There’s something particularly satisfying about watching cricket sat on a park bench that is positioned on the long leg boundary – even if the white picket fence you’re sat behind is plastic rather than wooden.
From there you’ve a fine view of the scoreboard as it somewhat lackadaisically attempts to keep up with the score. But this is cricket, and the relaxed atmosphere engendered by the clear blue skies and warm sunshine means that it doesn’t much matter exactly what the score is, it’s enough to simply enjoy the runs being scored. And besides there’s a chap a few seats away keeping a tally of each dot ball and every firmly struck boundary and, if asked, he’ll happily tell you how many the pair in the middle have put on since the fall of the last wicket.
Eventually though the scoreboard catches up and receives sympathetic applause from the healthy crowd who have helped make Somerset the third best supported county in the country this season.
As play began this morning the bells of St James Church were ringing out, perhaps in celebration that Jack Leach was back in the Somerset team. But with Somerset batting first the Somerset faithful would have to wait a while before they could welcome him to the field of play.
Not everything in life is straightforward. Imagine, for example, having to decide between having your root canal filled or spending an hour listening to someone who thinks there’s too much county cricket. OK, bad example, even when undertaken by the most sadistic of dental practitioners, the former is considerably less painful.
Even so, if Daniel Bell-Drummond had asked me at 10.30 whether, having the won the toss, he should have been batted or bowled first, I would not have been able to advise him. But if the jury was still out at lunch when Somerset were 133-3, there’s little doubt that by tea, with the score now 265-4, that some would have considered the Kent skipper guilty of a tactical error.
Credit to the Kent team though, for bowling in such a way that the days allocated overs always looked likely to be completed more or less within the scheduled hours of play – which is something of a novelty these days. But if the over rate was healthy, so too was the run rate, with runs being consistently being scored at more than four an over.
Matt Renashaw, Tom Lammonby and Andy Umeed all made healthy contributions, but the highlight of the day has to be the fifth wicket partnership between the two wicket-keeper batsmen, Tom Banton and James Rew. Both hit sixes into the aforementioned area which continued to afford me a fine view of proceedings, Banton’s being struck, perhaps, in response to the one by Rew that had helped the youngster briefly pass his traditionally faster scoring partner – despite him having had a 36 run head start.
Banton, though, reached his hundred first, hitting his 150th ball back over the bowler’s head for four. 18 balls later he raced on such that he had made his highest score in first class cricket, passing his previous best of 126. The two hundred partnership soon followed, coming off just over 42 overs and then, with the very next delivery, Rew reached his hundred, made form just 128 deliveries.
All good things though come to an end. Banton was eventually out for 133 and Rew fell for 114 with just six and a half overs left in the day. Both were fine, fine innings, the like of which we’re all well away they’re capable of and which will hopefully serve to build their confidence.
Craig Overton was out in the penultimate over after scoring a brisk 23, after which Louis Gregory and Migael Pretorius saw out the eight remaining deliveries. At close of play, with still no sign of Jack Leach, and maximum batting points just 10 runs away, the score was a very healthy 440-7
And if a highly enjoyable day of cricket wasn’t enough in itself, there were, as is so often the case at county championship matches, opportunities to meet new people and talk cricket, including today, the elderly gentleman who pondered why left handers always seemed to have more time to play their shots than right handers, the venerable editor of a cricket magazine, who tirelessly campaigns for the survival of the county game, and a certain club cat who, not surprisingly, felt the day had been nothing short of purr-fect!
Brian – Somerset’s much loved club cat.
Other cricket related blogs:
To read ‘Is Cricket Amusing Itself to Death’, click here
To read ‘Safe and Sound at the County Ground, Taunton’, click here
In the preface to his book critiquing the effect of television on our culture, Neil Postman compares the concerns of George Orwell in ‘1984’ with those of Aldous Huxley in ‘Brave New World’. He writes:
‘What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture’
What is particularly astonishing is the fact that Postman’s book was written in 1985, long before the exponential rise in the number of TV channels and the dawn of Social Media which together have served to confirm Postman’s view that Huxley, not Orwell, was right. It is not religion, as Marx asserted in 1843, that has become the opium of the masses, but rather it is entertainment that numbs us to what is real and valuable.
It was then for good reason that Postman’s book was entitled, ‘Amusing ourselves to Death’.
Recently I heard a view being expressed that the changes being made to cricket seemed to be designed to appeal to those who had no interest in the game. Whether, as was being suggested, that is the expressed intent of those who are making the changes is up for debate, but one can’t help thinking that Postman would have recognised in the dumbing down of cricket for the benefit of a hitherto disinterested audience the same tendency towards trivialisation that he had documented so cogently in his book. Indeed, if Postman’s book was ever revised and updated, one can’t help wondering if room would be made for a chapter on how the proliferation of the shorter formats of the game will, left unchecked, ultimately reduce cricket to just one more meaningless pursuit, one barely distinguishable from the myriad others that seek to do nothing other than distract us from ever having an original thought ourselves.
Because, to be rendered ‘absent of thought’ is, after all, what ‘to be amused’ means.
It is of interest to me as one who walks in ecclesiastical circles, that some churches have in recent years made the same mistake that cricket is making today. Indeed, Postman rightly criticised how the church in his day was already becoming obsessed with entertaining the congregation – or should that be audience – by prioritising ‘fun’ over faithfulness to its core message. Now don’t get me wrong, the motivation for such a change of emphasis may have been well intended, but the problem is, whilst it may have swelled numbers attending services for a time, such superficial treatment of what, for many, are considered matters of deep significance, not only failed to maintain the interest of those they were designed to attract, but also alienated those who had been churchgoers for years and who longed for something of substance on a Sunday morning.
Might not the trivialising nature of an excess of T20 games and, more recently ‘The Hundred’, have a similar effect on cricket?
But, you might be thinking, going to church and watching cricket are totally different pursuits. And I would, of course, agree with you. Even so there are perhaps some comparisons that might be usefully made.
As cricket races to find more ways to entertain the crowds it hopes to attract, how often do those methods provide evidence that those employing them have lost confidence in the game itself by suggesting that simply being a spectator is not a sufficiently enjoyable way to spend one’s leisure time. Because it now seems that not even reducing the number of deliveries in what was once called an over in a patronising attempt to make it easier for those who it’s presumably believed can’t count to six, is enough to guarantee that your target audience have a good time. For that, it would appear, it’s now necessary to have a merchandising T-shirt thrown in their face and the opportunity to gurn mindlessly in front of one of the TV cameras that are forever being pointed at them rather than the game itself.
Andy Warhol was wrong – it’s not that everyone will one day have their fifteen minutes of fame, now a mere fifteen seconds of infamy would appear to be enough.
It’s been said elsewhere that whatever it is that you use to draw your audience, you’ll need to continue to provide if you want that audience to remain. And so I believe that if cricket wants to survive it needs to captivate people with cricket – it needs to entice people in by displaying the games intrinsic beauty and not detracting from it glories with those superficial and ubiquitous fripperies that, whilst briefly amusing to some, will inevitably fail to ensure the game’s long term survival. And that’s the problem with ‘The Hundred’ – ‘It’s cricket Jim’, as Bones might say to a bemused Captain James T, Kirk, ‘but not as we know it’. As such it will never protect the future of the game we know and love.
Last year holidayed in the Yorkshire Dales. It’s a beautiful part of the world which is made even more so by the many village cricket grounds that dot the landscape. But whilst I’ve taken great pleasure from walking through countryside protected by the National Trust and visiting buildings preserved by English Heritage, I’m sure that both those organisation would say that their endeavours are not merely to maximise my enjoyment. More than that there is something inherently important about these places that needs to be held on to.
Wouldn’t it be great if there was an organisation that sought to similarly preserve cricket for the good of the nation because, whilst one would like to think that there was such a body in place already, some of those in positions of power seem to be behaving like whoever it was who thought it was a good idea to build a set of tacky entertainments at Land’s End. Such amusements may have their place, but it’s not where they detract from the splendour of such a wonderful part of the British coastline.
And it’s not at Lord’s or the Oval either. Still less at the County Ground in Taunton!
One afternoon whilst away, I found myself in the Wharfdale village of Hubberholm. There I took the opportunity to visit the church of St Michael’s and All Angels in the graveyard of which the ashes of J.P. Priestly were once scattered. I was reminded of some words he wrote about the Grand Canyon. He said
‘It is all Beethoven’s Nine Symphonies in stone and magic light. Even to remember it is still there lifts the heart’
For me something similar could be said about the game of cricket. Because come close of play, cricket isn’t just about being entertained. It’s far more than that. Because even when you’re not watching it yourself, and despite your team losing to your arch rival to the tune of 198 runs, it’s somehow reassuring to know that the game is still being played.
And if one day it’s not, if one day the game dies, I for one will not be in the least bit amused. Because I can cope with Somerset losing, but not with losing Somerset.
This week I was asked if I was giving up on county cricket. my answer was a resounding ‘No’ – but I am concerned. Because at the end of the day, those who are prepared to wait for pleasure are a dying breed in a world where gratification must increasingly be instant.
And as the Proclaimers once sang, ‘What do you do when minority means you?’
And whilst we ponder the answer to that question, like the foolish man who built his house on sand, the rock solid foundation of county championship cricket is being rejected in favour of the instant thrills and quick financial returns offered by the shorter formats of the game.
One day though, when it’s target audience inevitably becomes bored of an excess of one dimensional games and looks elsewhere instead for the immediate satisfaction that it craves, the whole thing will come crashing down
By which time, I fear county cricket will no longer be there to offer the antidote to the trivial superficiality that will have become our day to day existence.
This is an updated version of a blog first posted last year.
Other cricket related blogs:
To read ‘A Tale of Two Tons’, – blog contrasting two centuries, one in ‘The Hundred’, the other in a one Day cup game, click here
To read ‘The Somerset Cricket Emporium – 2023’, of how the One Day Cup has been devalued by a certain short format competition, click here
To read ‘Safe and Sound at the County Ground, Taunton’, click here
It may have been that I was still too excited by Somerset’s weekend win over Essex, but I didn’t notice much attention being given to the fact that the Monday just gone was the first anniversary of the coronation of King Charles III.
But be that as it may, today is another day when an even more significant event in the life of a King is likely to be similarly overlooked by many.
Because today is Ascension Day – the day when Christians traditionally remember how, forty days after his resurrection, Jesus ascended into heaven.
But it’s not just unbelievers who fail to notice that today is Ascension Day – frequently it passes unrecognised by Christians too.
It doesn’t help, of course, that it always falls on a Thursday, with no associated public holiday, but it is nonetheless odd that Ascension day is marked by so few. After all, Jesus himself said to the disciples who loved him so much, that his leaving them would be for their good, [John 16:7] – something which they seemingly understood given how, contrary to what might have been expected, his departure resulted in them returning to Jerusalem with ‘great joy’ [Luke 24:52]
So what is it about Jesus’ ascension that, today, should fill us with great joy too?
Well, simply this. Jesus’ ascension, as well as paving the way for way for the promised Holy Spirit, was not just to heaven. More than that it was to a throne – a throne on which Jesus still sits.
As such, no matter our current circumstances, we can be sure that the one who rules over us now is one who will do so, not only for all eternity [Isaiah 9:7] but with both ‘understanding and knowledge’ too. [Proverbs 28:2]. And he is one to whom we can gladly submit, confident that his rule is characterised by both justice and perfect righteousness.
And if that wasn’t enough to cheer us on our way, Jesus is also now kneeling before the Father, interceding for us as our great high priest. As such, as well as any prayers we may have offered up ourselves, if we are Christians, we can be sure that today Jesus is praying for us too.
Furthermore whilst we may not always know what to pray for, Jesus always does. And though our prayers are frequently weak his are always strong. For if the prayers of a righteous person have great power, [James 5:16], how much more power have the prayers of the perfectly righteous son of God.
In short, the prayers that Jesus prays for us are the most perfect prayers possible.
Therefore, because of Ascension Day, we have in heaven one who is both a King who wisely rules over us and a Priest who lovingly prays for us.
And that, to me at least, is something immensely reassuring and, therefore, something hugely worth remembering, and celebrating , too.
And that, to me at least, is something immensely reassuring and, therefore, something hugely worth remembering, and celebrating , too.
Even on a working Thursday!
Related posts/
To read ‘Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things? Rejoicing, though temporarily sorrowful, on Easter Day’, click here.
To read ‘Why do bad things happen to good people? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Good Friday’, click here
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
To read ‘An Advent Calendar – Complete’, click here
Back in my student days, I used to live in the St Paul’s area of Bristol, a part of the city that, back in the 1980’s at least, was not without its problems. Even so, despite living there for the best part of a year and frequently walking the streets close to City Road nor far from where I rented a flat, I was never, unlike my flatmate, offered any illegal substance. Now don’t get me wrong, I would, of course, have declined all kind offers made to me by any business partner of a South American drugs baron, but it would, I think, have been nice to have been asked!
Perhaps it’s because I had an innocent face that I was never considered as someone who was likely to make a habit of consuming poppy based relaxants. And maybe it’s because I still have a look of youthful innocence that my recent visits to the county ground in Taunton to watch championship cricket, have been occasions when those charged with checking my bag for unauthorised items have taken a very relaxed approach to match day security.
Or maybe it’s because there is a tacit acknowledgment that a polite enquiry as to whether ‘Sir’ has anything dodgy in his bag, is more than sufficient to root out ne’er do wells and thus ensure the safety of those already seated comfortably around the boundary edge.
Now whilst it would be nice to think I still have the appearance of one who in his early twenties, in truth I hope it is the latter explanation that is behind the cursory inquiry into what I carried into the ground today.
Because we need to believe that there at least some places where we can go without being concerned for our safety.
And surely there can be few places on earth less perilous to spend one’s day than a venue where four day cricket is being played – a place where the only thing threatened is a players batting average, the only thing that’s risky is running on a misfired, and the only one in danger is the poor soul forced to field at silly point.
T20 games are, however, a little different. Here, where the applause thunders, rather than ripples, around the ground, security is, of course, of paramount importance. And not only because of the, let’s call them scallywags, who sometimes enjoy, a little too enthusiastically the apple based intoxicant so beloved by many in this orchard rich part of the country.
Because then the far greater concern is the risk posed by the likes of my octogenarian mother who once had a small fruit knife confiscated from her as she made her way into the ground. Her protestations that her teeth, still her own but no longer as lethal as they were in former years, necessitated the use of the bladed utensil to help her devour the apple she had brought for her tea, fell on deaf ears. Which was probably just as well as I can personally vouch for the violence she was capable of inflicting with a pair of scissors on any of her sons that she deemed to be in need of a haircut.
But, be all that as it may, today was a day to enjoy the less hazardous surroundings of the CACG, the setting for the second day of Somerset’s game against Essex in the LV County Championship.
Less hazardous that is for all save the Essex batsmen who were all out for 138, the last four wickets falling with only a single run being added to the scoreboard. Some particularly fine bowling from Josh Davey and consistenty excellent wicket keeping from James Rew, resulting in Somerset being set just (?!) 167 runs to win.
To be honest, despite Winviz being 93% confident of a Somerset victory, I was a little anxious as the Somerset innings began, so much so that my blood pressure may have risen a tad, though not, ironically, as much as that which would have resulted from the somewhat irritating scoreboard announcement seeking to educate me about the dangers of undiagnosed hypertension.
But I needn’t have worried as Matt Renshaw and Sean Dixon put on 28 in the first seven overs, twice that of the game’s previous best opening partnership. And by tea the score stood at 45 without loss, the pair having shared the highest partnership of the match thus far.
Soon after tea, Sean Dickson, a player I so want to see do well, brought up the 50 partnership with a four through mid off and then, from the very next ball, hit an imperious six over mid on. Two more boundaries from the bat of Sean Dickson followed and, before you knew it, with the opening pair still at the crease, the runs required for a Somerset victory were less than a hundred.
Renshaw eventually fell, lbw for 35, but with the score now 75 and the in form Tom Lammonby walking to the crease, I remained sufficiently confident of a win such that, even when Dickson fell for a fine 42 from 40 deliveries, I still saw no need to seek out anti-hypertensive medication.
Progress slowed for a while with Lammonby, uncharacteristically out for a 24 ball duck, with the total now on 99, Andy Umeed having scored 16 at roughly a run a ball at the other end. Umeed, looking as comfortable as he had in the first innings, then took the Somerset total past 100 with a finely struck boundary and I was left wondering about the mathematical prowess of the Essex player who shouted ‘half way there lads’ when Somerset had, in fact, knocked of 65% of the required runs whilst losing only 30% of their wickets!
Umeed, comfortably the top scorer in the game, was eventually out for 34 but by now less than 50 runs were required. Miguel Pretorius joined Tom Banton in the middle, the latter, causing hearts to flutter with a mistimed attempt at a reverse sweep before reverting everyone to sinus rhythm once more with two rather more orthodox, and vastly more successful, shots for four.
Pretorius scored just two, and James Rew just six, but when Louis Gregory came out to join Banton, just 15 more runs were needed. If any nerves remained, they were soon calmed when the captain hit two deliveries back past the bowler for four leaving just four more needed when the days allocated overs were completed.
With a result in sight, additional overs were permitted, the first seeing Banton caught in the slips having contributed a crucial 29 runs. That left Craig Overton to join Gregory and hit the winning runs in a game which leaves Somerset, temporarily at least, second in the table.
And so a classic game of championship cricket was over – the Somerset win the icing on the cake of a day which, even without the victory, would still have been a thoroughly enjoyable one.
Such are days, the like of which, we all need more of, not less – which is, I hope, something that won’t go unnoticed by those with influence in the cricketing world.
Other cricket related blogs:
To read ‘Is Cricket Amusing Itself to Death’, click here
Whether you’ve arrived here, by bicycle or car, Whether you are local, or have travelled from afar, The fact remains the same, dear friend, you’ll end up in a pickle, If you don’t stop to chat awhile, and give my dog a tickle!
Now you may be a neighbour, or a postie with a letter, Either way, do as I say, it really would be better, And please take note, all ne’er do wells, with intentions not good, If you ignore his pleading eyes, he’ll wake the neighbourhood!
And if you are a GP, who is visiting the sick, Best bring some sanitiser, for your hands he’s sure to lick, But have no fear, though he’s enclosed, within a garden gated, He’ll not pass on canine disease, he’s fully vaccinated!
This week, MPs backed a plan to ban anyone born after 2009 from ever buying cigarettes, a move that effectively ensures that the proposal will one day become law. Whilst the bill passed comfortably, there were those who opposed it and it’s not hard to understand their motives for doing so.
Because there are, of course, two sides to every argument, and opinions can differ as to what is for the best.
The fact that smoking is both injurious to one’s health and highly addictive is not, however, in question. And equally certain is that there are less unhealthy ways to deal with personal stress than relying on the calming effects that some folk gain from the inhalation of nicotine. And so it is not a denial of the harmful effects of smoking that prompted those who opposed the bill to vote against it, but rather concerns regarding restrictions being placed on an individual’s freedom to act in whatever way they chose.
And this concern is, of course, one that is well worth considering – since it is in fact a concern that is shared by those on both sides of the debate.
Because those who opposed the bill will not unreasonably want to ask those in favour of it whether they would also support a ban on buying alcohol, participating in dangerous pastimes or spending too much time sat watching television when it would be far more healthy to be engaging in some form of exercise.
Similarly, those in favour of the bill will, equally reasonably, want to ask those who want to preserve one’s right to choose whether or not to smoke, if such individuals are equally liberal in wanting people to be free to snort cocaine, participate in satanic rituals involving human sacrifice, or promote methods of how to commit suicide to vulnerable individuals on social media platforms.
It seems then that we all have a line which divides the acceptable from the unacceptable, the only thing that we differ on is where that line should be drawn.
All of us know more or less where we would place it – and that, inevitably, will be where we think the line between right and wrong lies. The problem then becomes that what we consider to be right and wrong will, to a greater or lesser extent, differ from what is thought by each of the other eight billion people currently living on planet Earth.
Having then tacitly acknowledged the existence of right and wrong and, unless we are psychopaths, recognising the need to act accordingly, we need to decide who gets to be the final arbiter of what is and is not acceptable.
For the arrogant amongst us, the answer is that it should be they themselves, those who, confident that they are supreme judge of such matters, would happily enforce their will on others, and, given power to do so, would oppress others as the head of a military dictatorship.
At the other end of the spectrum are those who, unwilling to impose any restrictions on anyone, are effectively endorsing anarchy, with everyone free to do precisely what they want.
A balance then needs to be struck, which is, of course, what democracy seeks to do by way of consensus and thus making decisions on what should and should not be legislated. Which is all very well apart from the fact that, despite the no doubt largely good intentions of those who sit in parliament, they too are flawed. Inevitably then not all their decisions are good ones and the question then that The Proclaimers once sang about then arises, namely, ‘what do you do if minority means you’.
No wonder then that Winston Churchill once said that,
‘democracy is the worst form Government except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time’
But what if there was such a thing as a benevolent dictator, a leader who, rather than being one who acted solely for their own benefit, ruled instead for the benefit of their people? What if there was one who truly knew the difference between right and wrong and, fully appreciating what was best for those under their authority, legislated accordingly. What if we had a leader whose judgments could be trusted and who could be relied upon to always do what was right?
Well I believe there is such a one – namely the judge of the whole earth who only does what is just. [Genesis 18:25].
Because as well as being the one whose unchanging word is both life giving and strengthening, not to mention illuminating and inspiring, He is also the one whose statutes are trustworthy, a source of hope and ones in which we can take genuine delight [Psalm 119:89, 25,28, 130, 161, 42, 43, 16]. Because not only are his commands good, they are good for us to.
And in addition to all this, He is the one that, when we err, remains merciful and gracious, the one who does not treat us as our sins deserve [Psalm 103:8,10], the one who, because of Christ’s substitutionary death on the cross for us, forgives us for all our foolish law breaking.
And so it is the case that, for me at least, God is the one who, in contrast to both myself and politicians, I am content to put my trust. And in this year of worldwide elections He is the one who has my vote of confidence.
And irrespective of your politics, I would suggest that He warrants your vote of confidence as well.
That cricket and wine have a lot in common is something that is not often appreciated.
But to me at least, the similarities are striking. Because whether we’re talking cricket balls or grapes on the vine, my preference is always for red over white, and both these two pleasures are, to my mind, ones that, rather than being rushed, ought instead to be savoured over time.
Furthermore, just as I know very little about what goes into producing a vintage of distinction and am liable therefore to rely on how much I’m taken by the label before selecting the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on which it is attached, so too my choice of cricket team tends to depend on whether or not the players’ shirts have emblazoned upon them, a maroon coloured dragon that identifies as a wyvern!
And, just as every bottle of wine need not be a Romanée-Conti 1945 in order for it to be relished, not every day at the cricket needs to include a sumptuous Tom Lammonby century, or a full bodied ‘fifer’ from Kasey Aldridge, before it can be a day that one can truly delight in.
But whilst it’s been a long, long time since I overindulged on the red stuff, it remains the case that I am not infrequently intoxicated by cricket!
It was Charles Baudelaire (1821 – 1867) who once wrote:
“You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it – it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk”
I know this because, some years ago, a particularly cultured patient of mine who played Jazz professionally and once performed with Acker Bilk, quoted the above to me in the original French! Which you have to admit is pretty cool!
Baudelaire’s poem goes on:
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: “It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.”
I suspect many of us will know what it is to have woken this week, ‘in the mournful solitude’ that comes as a consequence of having had the cold water of world events thrown in our face once more.
Baudelaire suggests to us that to avoid being the ‘martyred slaves of time’ the only way is to be intoxicated by something good that consumes us.
And whilst it is not by a long way the most important thing in my life, comforted as I am by greater truths that continue to endure under even the darkest clouds, cricket is, for me, something with which I like to fill my metaphorical hip flask, before proceeding to sip from it regularly throughout the summer months.
And so it was that I arrived at the county ground in Taunton this morning, giddy with excitement at the prospect of what was my first day of live cricket this year.
In much the same way that a bottle of wine ought to be opened a while before one intends to drink it, I like to arrive at the ground early and walk a few times around the ground, just as one might swirl the contents of a glass before imbibing. And then, just as a connoisseur takes a little time to revel in the wine’s colour and aroma, delaying gratification until, at last taking that much anticipated initial sip, so too, as the players stroll on to the field, I try and take full advantage of those few precious moments before the game finally gets underway, to absorb the sights and sounds that surround me.
Here then is a taste of what I drank in today:
The opening delivery, served up, perhaps, at a temperature slightly below that which might be considered optimal. A satisfying dot ball.
Craig Overton’s removing the Nottinghamshire opening batsmen half way through the opening over. Can a batsmen be decanted back to the pavillion? If so, then that’s what happened to Haseed Hameed – clean bowled for nought.
The opening over at Taunton. Somerset v Nottinghamshire April 19th 2024
Fluffy white clouds, scudding across bright blue skies as they pass behind the tower of St James’ Church.
The background noise of conversation in the well populated James Hildreth Stand as acquaintances are renewed after the long and wet winter break.
Having been generously gifted a season’s membership when I left my previous job last November, the view from the seat that has been designated to me for the T20 games that will be played later in the season – a seat that, coincidentally enough, has the same number as the room in the Hall of Residence in which I spent my first year at university.
James Rew’s jubilant appeal having taken the catch to dismiss Ben Slater off the bowling of Louis Gregory. 49-2.
The enormous white sheet that, draped between the Lord Ian Botham Stand and the pavillion named after the less exalted Colin Atkinson, billows in the wind as it serves as a makeshift sight-screen
Louis G extending his back as the umpire’s finger gives Will Young out lbw. 52-3.
Sean Dickson with his characteristically upturned collar offering precious little protection from the stiff breeze at the ground today.
Craig O racing in from the Marcus Trescothick Pavilion end and, having completed a sharp piece of fielding off his own bowling, lying sprawled headlong between the wickets.
Black trousered and fedora hatted umpires walking slowly to their positions between overs, each in turn relieving the bowlers of their jumpers before reuniting one with the other once more.
The covers, strangely white this year, never once straying from their rightful place – comfortably beyond the boundary edge.
An opportunity to read Brian Carpenter’s excellent tribute to Derek Underwood*, the first, not so slow, left armer I recall watching on TV as a boy.
A black Labrador, not mine, being fussed over by Tom Banton during the lunch break, an encounter that took place only a few yards from Brian the club cat’s summer residence.
Somerset returning to the field after lunch
Shoaib Bashir bowling. He seems every bit as tall as everyone says and certainly too long in the trunk to find a shirt of sufficient length to tuck into his trousers! Even so, after being hit by him for six in his first over, Bash has the last laugh when, he takes the wicket of Clarke. Tom Banton takes the catch and it’s 118-4.
Tractor, back for another season, offering his customary vocal encouragement, alongside that of the players’ themselves.
Watching a few overs whilst standing at the square leg boundary, as Josh Davey and the umpire engage in good humoured conversation between deliveries.
A near faultless performance from a seemingly in form scoreboard!
Matt Renshaw who, judging by the smile on his face, is enjoying his cricket as much as ever. He also finds time to help the individual on the players bench who is struggling to complete a crossword. It seems he not only knows the capital of Egypt, but knows how to spell it too.
Three quick wickets falling, the first off the bowling of Josh Davey and then two more for Craig Overton – all three caught behind the stumps by Rew, Lammonby and Gregory as, with the dismissal of Haynes, Montgomery and Harrison, 139-4 becomes 153-7.
Enjoying the overs before tea from the vantage point of the elevated seating in the Marcus Trescothick Pavilion. It seems I don’t have acrophobia and there is no recurrence of those vertiginous symptoms with which I entered the ground.
The view from the not so giddy heights
Ironic applause at the announcement, just before tea, that all pies and pasties are now selling at half price! An offer which I choose not to take advantage of!
Migael Pretorius getting his first wicket for Somerset at the CACG. Lyndon James lbw for 18. 183-8
Committed fielding by Somerset throughout the day, which is amply rewarded when a direct hit by Lewis Goldsworthy sees Hutton run out for 20 and the score at 185-9.
Rew’s third catch behind the stumps as Pretorious claims Fletcher as his second wicket of the day. And Notts are all out for 193 as tea is taken.
Sean Dickson reaching double figures with a fine square cut that sees the ball speeding across the beautifully green outfield all the way to the boundary.
Successive boundaries from the bat of Matt Renshaw, the first a majestic straight drive, the second an equally impressive shot through the covers.
I linger at the boundary edge for a couple of deliveries hoping for a brace of boundaries to take us past 50 but circumstances dictate that I have to leave the ground with Somerset on a very satisfactory 43 without loss with a good few overs of the day yet to bowl. But it’s been a terrific opening two and a half sessions of my summer of watching Somerset.
The full day of work that awaits me in the morning has enabled me to attend the game today, but it means I’ll not be able to see any play tomorrow. But hopefully I’ll be back again on Sunday afternoon, perhaps with my own black Labrador in tow. And who knows, with a bit of luck Tom Banton will be on hand to give him a tickle!
Addendum:
The day ended with Somerset on 116-1 with Dickson on a particularly pleasing 70 not out. Enough to warm any Somerset supporter’s heart – just as any fine wine would!
*To read Brian Carpenter’s excellent piece, ‘On Derek Underwood’, by clicking here
‘Rather than having always to pick yourself up, it’s better to be carried by somebody strong’
Last week I watched the second series of the excellent BBC Drama, ‘Time’. Whereas the first series followed the inmates of a men’s prison, this second series moves the action to a woman’s prison and seeks to relate something of what it might be like to spend time in such an institution.
It is testimony to both the superb writing by Jimmy McGovern and Helen Black, and the brilliant acting of Jodie Whittaker, Tamara Lawrence and Bella Ramsey, that one is left feeling sympathy for those who find themselves imprisoned. And that sympathy is not confined to those whose crimes seem relatively minor. For as well as those for whom a custodial sentence seems a huge overreaction, you find yourself shedding tears for those who have committed truly awful crimes, crimes that you can’t help feeling that, were your circumstances the same as those who perpetrated them, you too may have found yourself facing a prolonged period of detention for having committed them too.
Furthermore, despite the harsh and sometimes brutal environment, the prison is also shown as a setting where genuine compassion is in evidence. And not only from the kindly prison chaplain and the understanding and supportive prison officer. Real care and concern is also shown by many of the prisoners themselves.
Which is, of course, not all that surprising, for aren’t we all a complex mix of the good and the bad? Aren’t we all capable of performing acts of genuine kindness one minute, only to behave appallingly towards one another the next?
I know I am.
Ultimately then, perhaps more so than the equally excellent series that proceeded it, this second series of ‘Time’ portrays the penal system as not without some merit. And not only because, in a society that we all so long to be just, sometimes crimes really do need to be punished.
For whilst it is acknowledged that prison life can sometimes encourage individuals further into a life of crime, and that more creative ways to deal with bad behaviour than merely incarcerating those who act in such a way, need to be found, the drama also suggests that there is potential for time in prison to be genuinely redemptive, by which I mean that, appropriately supported, individuals can and sometimes do benefit from temporarily having their freedoms denied.
And perhaps it is similarly true for we who, whilst not doing time in jail, nonetheless find that difficult circumstances can sometimes be for our good too.
But what no amount of time in prison can deal with, and what no amount of suffering can resolve, is that all too real sense of guilt that we all inevitably sometimes feel.
And I don’t mean here those inappropriate feelings of guilt that we sometimes experience for things that really weren’t our fault – nor indeed that sense of failure that comes across us when we compare ourselves unfavourably with others who appear to be achieving so much more than we are. On the contrary, such pseudo guilt can generally be dealt with by a decent chat with someone who cares about us, or at the very most, a few sessions with a therapist who can help us think straight about what we are, and what we aren’t, responsible for.
No, what I’m talking about here is real guilt. Real guilt for real wrongdoing, such as was done by one of the characters in ‘Time’. At one point she was asked by the chaplain what she would ask for, were she to be granted a single wish. ‘I’d like to be able to grieve’, she answered, before adding, ‘but how do you grieve the death of a child when you’re the one responsible for it?’
How indeed?
Because grieving is more than simply feeling an appropriate intensity of sorrow, it’s a process one goes through by which one at least partially comes to terms with the cause of one’s tears. It’s a process that enables you to at last begin to make those first tentative steps that mark the beginning of you being able to carry on. And how can you possibly come to terms with what you have done, when what you have done, can never be come to terms with?
Likewise, how can you be forgiven for something that was, no matter the mitigating factors, wholly the result of something you did? And how can you be forgiven, when the one you have hurt is no longer alive to forgive you?
I remember being asked that question by a patient who once consulted me with a huge sense of guilt for her actions towards another. Actions that had irrevocably harmed the person in question such that they ultimately lost their life.
The patient had tried blaming others for what had taken place. She’d tried to rationalise what she’d done as something that, at the time, had been for the best. But neither of these two strategies had worked for her. And this was simply because she knew her actions were objectively wrong and that she was the one on whom the responsibility for her bad behaviour ultimately lay.
So what did I say to this individual who was genuinely guilty, this individual who longed for forgiveness but feared that it would never be hers to experience?
Well I’ll tell you what I didn’t say. I didn’t say that what she’d done wasn’t really all that bad. And I didn’t say that what she’d done was now like so much water under the bridge that it no longer mattered. And neither did I say that it was time now for her to simply forgive herself. Firstly because she knew that, however well-meant such foolish advice might be, the giving of it would fail to resolve the deep seated sense of guilt that she knew it was appropriate for her to feel. And secondly, how can one possibly forgive yourself when you are not the person injured by your actions?
So what than can be said to those whose guilt is real, to those whose guilt is not that whinny manifestation of something that is really no more than a dislike of how their guilt makes them feel? What can be said to those whose guilt is an honest recognition of the seriousness of their actions and which, rather than trying to rationalise it away, accepts the full responsibility for what it is that has been done?
Well there is hope for we who know how this all feels. But the solution is neither to punish ourselves by living a life of perpetual self-loathing. Nor is it to try to chalk up enough good works, in the forlorn hope that our good deeds will ultimately outweigh the wrong that we have done.
Instead then of looking within ourselves, we need to look outside of ourselves – specifically to a green hill far away on which a man was crucified.
For this man was one who willingly suffered and died in the place of guilty sinners. He took the responsibility for all that rightly causes them to feel guilty, bearing their punishment for them, the punishment that justice rightly demands.
And just as it’s better to be carried by somebody strong, than trying always to pick yourself up, it’s better to be forgiven by the one who has the authority to do so, than vainly attempting to forgive yourself.
For those who know what it is to feel guilty, this is good news – the best news possible. And so it is hard to understand why anyone would not want to hear it, especially as the circumstances of Jesus death and subsequent resurrection, far from being just a lovely story, are in fact rooted in history and confirmed as real events by the overwhelming evidence of the empty tomb, credible eyewitness testimony of those who saw Jesus after he was raised from the dead, and the authoritative word of the one who spoke the universe into existent.
Perhaps Christianity is unpopular because it acknowledges that there is such a thing as right and wrong and is offensive enough to say that our guilty feelings are therefore, wholly appropriate. But since guilt is something that, however much we might pretend otherwise, we all still experience, something that, despite our attempts to cover up, deny or make peace with, still leaves us feeling its reality, might not Christianity, with all it’s claims of an objective solution to our objective problem be something worth considering.
Recently I heard of somebody who had no idea that Easter had anything to do with Jesus. Which leaves me wondering if there is a generation or two out there that is made up of those who, if they have rejected Christianity at all, have done so without any real idea of what it is they have rejected.
Which as well as being a terrible indictment on folk like me who have failed to effectively communicate the gospel, is also a tragedy, since many are the guilty who have had to continue to live in shame without ever knowing the joy of having been forgiven.
For which of us wouldn’t want to know the good news that there really is an answer to that gnawing sense of failure, who wouldn’t want to know that even now, there is ‘no condemnation for those who are in Christ’ [Romans 8:1].
And whilst it is true that the effects of the wrong things we’ve done may continue, for ourselves as well as for those we’ve harmed, it remains the case that the one who can deal with our guilt has also promised to deal with the consequences of our misdeeds.
Because as well as promising us forgiveness, God has promised that a day is coming when every tear will be washed away and death will be no more [Revelation 21:4].
There is, therefore, hope – not only for us but also for those who we have hurt so badly.
Christianity claims to be objectively true. Surely then, everyone ought, at least once in their life, objectively consider its claims.
And for those imprisoned by guilt, for those who long to be free, perhaps the time for doing just that is right now!
[‘Time’ is available to view on the BBC iPlayer – and is very well worth a watch]
If, like me, you spent your teenage years listening to 80’s pop music, you may be familiar with these song lyrics.
‘A good heart these days is hard to find, True love, the lasting kind. A good heart these days is hard to find So please be gentle with this heart of mine’
So sang Fergal Sharkey, former lead vocalist of the Undertones in his 1985 solo hit ‘A good heart’. Though they aren’t likely to earn Sharkey the Nobel Prize for Literature, the words are none the less ones we can relate to as don’t we all desire to be loved with a perfect and everlasting love, all the while conscious of the frailties of our own heart? The only problem is, though, that a good heart, one able to love like that, is indeed hard to find.
The problem is not a new one, not one that is unique to ‘these days’. The Bible tells us in no uncertain terms that ‘the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately sick’ [Jeremiah 17:9] so anyone looking for a good heart is going to have their work cut out. And the problem that we face is all the greater for God. We may be fooled by our looking on the outward appearance but God looks on the heart [1 Samuel 16:7] – he sees us as we really are. He has searched us and known us, discerned our thoughts from afar and is aquatinted with all our ways [Psalm 139:1-3]. And his verdict is that ‘none is righteous, no not one’ [Romans 3:10].
A good heart then, really is hard to find.
The problem becomes all the more pressing when we consider Psalm 24. ‘Who shall ascend the hill of the Lord and who shall stand in his holy place?’ asks David, the writer of the Psalm. Who is the one worthy to be the ‘King of Glory’ – to be God’s chosen King. The psalmist answers his own question: ‘He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not lift up his soul to what is false and does not swear deceitfully.’
And with these words King David rules himself out of the running for the job. He is not fit to be the King. His hands are not clean. He heart is not pure. Like everybody else, David’s heart was deceitful above all things and desperately sick. His was a heart capable of adultery and murder, something God was all too aware of even as He selected him to be King of Israel in 1 Samuel 16.
A better King than David is therefore needed. Who might that be? Who might God chose? The prophecy of Isaiah gives us a clue when in Chapter 42 we find the first of the so called Servant Songs in which Isaiah speaks of one who was yet to appear on the scene.
‘Behold my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my Spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry aloud or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. He will not grow faint or be discouraged till he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his law.’
Here then is somebody who is qualified for the role of King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Here is one in whom God truly delights.
Well we know who this is don’t we? This is Jesus, the light of the world, who gave sight to the blind and who set the captives free just as the first of Isaiah’s Servant Songs went on to prophecy. This is Jesus, of whom God spoke at his baptism ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased’
Only Jesus has a good heart – his is the only good heart we will ever find. But, we must ask, will he be gentle with these hearts of ours?
The prophecy of Isaiah tells us that he will since it assures us that ‘a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench’. Our frail hearts are indeed safe in Jesus’ hands. Our hearts are not good but God loves us nonetheless. He loves us, not because we are lovely, but because he is loving.
‘In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his son to be the propitiation for our sins’ [1 John 4:10];
‘…but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.’ [Romans 5:8]
God does not save us because of our good hearts – he saves us so that our hearts might become good.
So what should our hearts be like now? Growing in goodness certainly. Justification, our once and for all being declared righteous by God on account of our sin being dealt with by Christ’s substitutionary death on the cross, together with Christ’s righteousness being counted as ours, is only the beginning. Because what begins with justification continues with sanctification, the gradual and ongoing transformation of our character such that we are transformed into the likeness of Christ, a transformation that will only fully be realised on the day of Jesus’ return.
But there is at least one characteristic that our hearts should display now. In Psalm 51, all too conscious of his adultery with Bathsheba and his having her husband Uriah killed, David asks of God,
‘Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin! For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.’ [Psalm 51:2-3].
David acknowledges his sin and expresses repentance and then, in verse 17, he asserts
‘The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.’
Contrition. Perhaps that is what God saw in David when he identified him as the one Samuel should anoint. Perhaps that is what singled David out as a man after God’s own heart. One who humbly acknowledged his weakness and was prepared to plead, ‘Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me’ [Psalm 51:10] for ‘God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.’ [James 4:6].
Here then is comfort for the contrite heart. Contrition is the quality that God is looking for our hearts to possess. It is the contrite heart to which salvation comes.
‘For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite.’ [Isaiah 57:15]
This is a truth echoed by Jesus in the sermon on the mount
‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.’ [Matthew 5:3-4].
A good heart these days is hard to find, but whilst we do not find one in ourselves, we do find one in Jesus. His is a true love of the lasting kind. A good heart these days is hard to find, but Jesus, King Jesus, is one who will be gentle with these contrite hearts of ours.
Recently I have begun watching the new Netflix series ‘One Day’. I’ve not finished it yet but, having read the book on which it is based, I kind of know what happens. It’s receiving good reviews and proving hugely popular, not least, I suspect, amongst those of my own age who, having left university at around the same time as the principal protagonists, can relate particularly well to some of what they experienced back then when mobile phones were a novelty.
The drama revolves around Emma Moreley and Dexter Matthew, their lives being recounted through the events that take place on a single day, July 15th, of each successive year. There is some bad language and some other less than wholesome scenes but despite these I am enjoying it and can easily see why ‘One Day’ is currently among the most watched television shows in the U.K.
It begins in 1988 when the two first meet on their graduation day, a time when their lives are relatively straightforward and their futures seem full of hope and opportunity, a time which those watching can’t help but remember fondly themselves, recalling how their own lives once seemingly stretched out in front of them, similarly full of promise and opportunity.
Furthermore, Em and Dex are hugely likeable and, because of the quality of both the writing and the acting, this remain the case even when their behaviour, perhaps also like our own, is often unpleasant and sometimes obnoxious. Over the years, their lives, like all of ours, become more complex, complicated by circumstances and their own, in some cases, catastrophic mistakes.
But despite all this you’re still left wanting the very best for them, hoping that one day they’ll be as genuinely happy as they hoped they would be when first they met.
Whether the series stays true to the book, for me at least, remains to be seen, but suffice to say that, given the honesty with which the characters are portrayed, it is far from guaranteed that eventually they will live happily ever after.
Because, as Abraham Lincoln once wrote
‘In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and, to the young, it comes with bitterest agony, because it takes them unawares. The older have learned to ever expect it.’
These may not have been the former US President’s cheeriest words, but I do think that there is some truth in them. Few of us get very far in our lives before problems bring with them a degree of unhappiness.
Even so, our inherent desire for a happy ending remains. And this longing for those we care about to experience joy is not just confined to characters in a fictional TV drama, it extends to those we love in real life too, and, indeed, to we ourselves.
But, as is the case for Em and Dex, real life isn’t always like that. When I worked as a GP, I was all too well aware of the struggles experienced by many of my patients, the sadness felt by those who, in some cases, had suffered for years. And now, working for a missionary organisation, I continue to hear of folk in far off countries whose stories are nothing short of heartbreaking. And just as was the case when I was a doctor, my best efforts now still seem wholly inadequate, unable to ease the very real pain of those who, though I may never actually meet them, are nonetheless people I find myself caring about, people for whom I also want a happy ending.
The problem of suffering, seems then to be ubiquitous. Even so, there is, I believe, a solution.
C.S.Lewis, the one time Oxbridge academic and author of ‘The Chronicles of Narnia’, once wrote of how our longing for something, implies its reality, that though we may not experience it in this life, it remains the case that such a thing must, necessarily, still exist. He said…
‘If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.’
And so I will keep hoping for that other, better, world, one that I consider I have good cause to believe in. Because if good can come out of a man suffering and dying on a cross, then the suffering I see around me, and sometimes, in some small measure, experience myself, is not necessarily without meaning.
And so I believe that the words written by the apostle Paul some 2000 years ago remain true today, that the sufferings of this present time are light and momentary in comparison to the weight of glory that is being produced for us and will will one day be revealed. As such our suffering isn’t meaningless, on the contrary it’s doing something for us as we look, not to the things that are seen but to things that are unseen. [Romans 8:18, 2 Corinthians 4:17-18]
All of which explains why those dear folk I alluded to earlier, those living thousands of miles away in Ukraine and Far East Russia, are such an inspiration to me. For theirs is a genuine faith, one that does not deny the current darkness but keeps on trusting God despite the ongoing difficulties. Confident that the light one one day dawn, they know that all is well, even when it isn’t, they know that despite their unimaginable hardship, the God of love is no less for them, and whilst, for the time being at least, he may choose not to remove all that currently causes them such distress, they know that one day he will make everything as it should be because that is what he has promised to do.
Because that man who suffered and died on a cross, didn’t stay dead. Three days after dying in our place and atoning for our own catastrophic mistakes, he rose from the grave and thus defeated death. ‘Swallowed up in victory’, death has therefore lost its sting. [1 Corinthians 15:54-55].
And so, though the tears may yet flow, we have a sure and certain hope that the God who raises the dead [2 Corinthians 1:9] will one day resurrect us, a hope that sustains us through even our greatest pain and deepest sorrow as we draw comfort from the promise of Revelation 21:4 that:
One day – there will be no more mourning, no more crying and no more pain. One day – all our tears will be wiped away and One day – death will be no more.
And so we need not fear the future but can look forward instead to living happily ever after, together with God.
With so much that is so wrong with the world, many are understandably wondering how it will all end. As for me, despite all the genuine horror of the war in Ukraine, the terror currently being inflicted in the Middle East and the violence that increasingly exists on our own streets, I remain convinced that, in the end, all will be well.
And considering the future to be that certain, there is, I believe, a sense in which it can be said that all is well now.
A boy has died. Without telling anyone why, his mother sets off to visit Elisha, the man of God. As she does so she tells her puzzled husband, who hasn’t yet learned that his son’s headache has had fatal consequences, that ‘all is well’. [2 Kings 4: 23].
Later when she reaches the home of the man of God and is asked if all is well, asked specifically even, if all is well her son, the woman insists that it is. ‘All is well’, she says [2 Kings 4:26]
What is going on here? How can she say that ‘all is well’ when it so self evidently is not? In her distress has the dead child’s mother lost her mind?
Far from it. In her distress she has done the most rational thing possible. She has turned in faith to God and has continued to believe that the Judge of the whole earth will do what is just. [Genesis 18:25]
Where God is sovereign, all is well, because all is well where God is sovereign.
Or at least it will be.
Weeping may tarry for the night time but joy comes with the morning. [Psalm 30:5] The current distress is real but the prospect of a bright tomorrow is so certain that, no matter how dark the night is, or how far off the day may still seem, we can still say that all is well. With God in control, we can be sure that the sun will eventually rise.
Because God has promised a day when all our tears will be wiped away, a day when death will be no more [Revelation 21:4], there is a sense in which ‘all is well‘ even as our tears continue to flow and daily we are surrounded by death and disease.
When the woman reached the man of God she took hold of his feet. The man of God’s servant tried to push her away, but the man of God was content to let her come to him in her distress. [2 Kings 4:27].
And so it will be for us. No matter the difficulties we currently face, no matter the sadness that daily fills our lives, we can be sure, that God is in control. As the psalmist reminds us, God has promised that if we call upon him in the day of trouble, he will deliver us. [Psalm 50:15].
It’s as certain as that!
Because of the cross our sins are atoned for. Because of the cross we are reconciled to God. Because of the cross nothing can separate us from the love of Christ.
And when I say nothing, like the apostle Paul, I mean nothing. Not tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword. [Romans 8:35]. Furthermore we can be sure that, for those who love God, and are called according to his purpose, all things work together for good. [Romans 8:28]
Because the Son has risen, we can be sure that God is for us. And if God is for us then ‘all is well’.
Even when it isn’t.
But perhaps you can’t see it.
It is sometimes said that seeing is believing, but for a Christian, this isn’t true. Because for a Christian, it is hearing that is believing. Faith, we are tolad, comes by hearing and hearing by the word of Christ. [Romans 10:17] Faith then is seeing what’s there, when what’s there, isn’t there to be seen, As the writer to the Hebrews says, faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. [Hebrews 11:1].
It takes great faith, therefore, to see the things that are most hidden.
His is often held up as an example of a simple faith but surely the faith of the penitent second thief is a remarkable one.
Here is a man who is about to die the most painful of deaths, somebody who is totally undeserving of salvation. But not only does he still ask to be remembered by Jesus, he does so whilst the one he is asking is hanging on a cross and about to die too. He says:
‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom’ [Luke 23:42].
Unlike the religious rulers, the Roman soldiers and the other thief who was being crucified that day, the second thief didn’t see Jesus’ death as a sign of defeat. He continued to speak of Jesus as one who was coming into his kingdom. For him, Jesus’ death didn’t mean an end to all the kingdom and salvation talk. In stark contrast to those who mocked Jesus, those who were looking to Jesus for a salvation FROM death, the second thief saw that the salvation Jesus was bringing about was one that was brought about THROUGH death.
He saw that Jesus’ death was not the end of Christ’s kingdom, but rather its beginning.
This is a profound truth – one that we would do well to try and grasp.
Far then from simple, the second thief’s faith was one that was truly remarkable. And we should not be surprised therefore when, as a result, Jesus responds to his request with the words:
‘Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise’ [Luke 23:43].
Jesus saw in the second thief somebody who got it! Somebody who trusted the power of God despite seeing what, to unspiritual eyes, was nothing but weakness. Somebody who saw victory where most saw only defeat. Somebody who understood the paradox of Good Friday.
That suffering is not irredeemable, That sorrow is not incompatible with joy and That even the darkest night can be followed by the brightest day.
Oh that we would all be granted a faith like that of the penitent thief who was assured of things hoped for and convinced of things not seen. [Hebrews 11.1] Oh that in the sadness of the nighttime we would all be able to look forward to the joy that comes with the morning. [Psalm 30:5] And oh that we would all believe that, irrespective of how things currently seem, God is doing all things well [Mark 7:37] and will surely see to it that the day eventually comes when everything is as it should be.
Because one day, all really will be well,
Related blogs:
To read ‘T.S. Eliot, Jesus and the Paradox of the Christian Life’, click here
To read “Luther and the global pandemic – on becoming a theologian of the cross”, click here
When we talk of love, more often than not we tend to focus our thinking on the one who is being loved rather than on the one who is doing the loving. That is, when we say that somebody is well loved, we tend to be making a comment about how wonderful that person is perceived to be, rather than how wonderful it is that such an individual is shown love in the way that they are by another.
This is largely because we live in a world where love and acceptance have to be earned and, as a result, too many of us feel burdened with a need to promote ourselves in an attempt to be constantly admired by all. Furthermore, feeling that we must be loved by everyone, too many of us find it hard when such universal admiration is not forthcoming, a state of affairs that, as anyone who has seen the excellent film ‘Judy’ will know, can have tragic consequences.
The truth is that, in a world where there are far too many who do not know what it is to be genuinely loved at all, none of us to universally adored. Neither are we happier, or healthier, by constantly having to strive for the love of those we need to constantly persuade that we are worthy of receiving it.
We, or at least I, need to learn that, rather than being admired by strangers on account of my striving to be somebody I’m not, it is better to be loved by somebody who knows who I really am and who continues to love me just the same. Though the former may have some temporary appeal, the constant demand to perform beyond my capabilities will eventually be my downfall.
This is in contrast to those who, knowing what it is to be loved unconditionally, experience the security out of which they can grow to become a little better than they might otherwise have been.
For me at least, getting this wrong and continuing along the road of expressive individualism, portraying myself as more important than I actually am, gets in the way of anything that is genuinely worthy. In particular it gets in the way of the unconditional love that I suspect I am not alone in longing for.
Contrary then to how the world sees things, to truly be loved speaks more about the merits of the one who loves, rather than the merits of the one who is loved. Expending too much energy on trying to make ourselves worthy of love results in us, not only being left with the burden of constantly striving to remain loveable, but also deprives us of the joy of knowing true love and acceptance because a love that is conditional on performance is not real love at all.
For us to be truly loved, therefore, we need someone who is truly loving, one who will enable us to become more lovely as a result of their love for us.
We do not improve by being constantly criticised for what we fail to achieve, and having acceptance denied until we perform better is not the basis of a good relationship. On the contrary, ultimately we are paralysed by such pressure to be perfect , crushed under a fear of failure. Genuine progress comes only as a result of the motivation that flows out of being accepted – only then are we free to flourish, only then can we truly grow into the human beings we all so long to be.
We, and those with whom we live alongside, need to be kinder to one another, acknowledging our humanness. We need to stop insisting that we must be more than we actually are. In short, we all need to be a lot more loving, if we are all going to be a lot more loved.
But whilst we can all strive to be more loving, it is, of course, easier said than done since, just as it is hard for others to love us when we sometimes let them down, so too is it hard for us to love those who sometimes let us down. I’m not sure that any of us are up to the task of giving unconditional love – I know for sure, that I am not.
If then we can not find such a love in ourselves, where might we find it? 1 Corinthians 13, a passage frequently read at weddings, gives us some pointers:
‘Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.’ [1 Corinthians 13:4-7]
True love, then, is patient towards those whose behaviour requires patience to be shown and is kind towards those who do not deserve kindness. Love bears what is uncomfortable to carry, hopes for what is not currently present, and endures what has to be endured.
It even endures the cross. [Hebrews 12:2]
As somebody who is far from perfect, this is the kind of love I need. I believe that God loves me, not because I am lovely but rather because he is loving. I believe the glorious truth that, in Christ, I am accepted by God and, as a result of the indwelling Holy Spirit, consider that there is hope that I might yet become the person that I am called to be, someone who is a lot more like Jesus than I currently am. Only then will I be fully able to love as God loves.
Because, whilst it is true that we all, created as we are in the image of God, have some capacity to love as God does, I, on account of my fallen nature, am not able to love as fully as I ought. My selfishness and pride invariably creep in and spoil anything of merit that I may achieve. I am grateful, therefore, to be married to a wife who graciously puts up with me the way she does.
I believe that, just as a good Father is pleased with his child’s efforts to please him, so God also delights in my efforts to try to please him. Furthermore, as that good father I consider him to be, I believe he withholds none of his love when my efforts fall short of the mark.
Even so, I also believe that I ought to be more loving than I am.
But if I am to have a perfect love for anyone else, a love that is not in the least dependent on the merits of the one I show love towards, a love that bears, hopes and endures as God has had to bear, hope and endure with me, then it will require that love to originate from outside of myself. It will need to originate from the source of all love, from God, for it is God himself who is love. [1 John 4:16].
Because, as the scriptures remind us, ‘In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.’ [1 John 4:10-11]. That is, Christ died for me, not because of my merits but because of my need, not because of his obligation but because of his kindness. Only by understanding this and realising my dependence on the one who was perfect for me, and who died in my place for my imperfections, can I hope to show genuine love towards others.
Even so, I ought to love, because, as the scriptures go on to say, ‘beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another’. [1 John 4:10-11]. Not in order that I might be loved, but rather on account of my being loved already. This is, of course, something that I sadly still fail to do the way I should but, even so the promise remains, there in Philippians 1:6, ‘that he who began a good work in [me] will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ’.
How then can we love others more? By first resting in the love that God has shown to us. Just as those who realise how much God has forgiven them, know what it is to love him more, [Luke 7:47], so too those who begin to realise the depths to which God has loved them, can begin to know what it is to love others, not on account of their merits, but on account of their need, a need we all share, for unconditional love.
So I am grateful therefore that God’s love is patient and kind, that his love does not envy or boast. I am thankful that his love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.
And above all, I am thankful that God’s love never ends. [1 Corinthians 13:8].
To read, ‘Professor Ian Aird – a time to die?’ and the possible tragic consequences of a constant need to achieve, click here
To read some reflections on the film ‘Judy’ on the dangers of constantly staving for love, click here
Last weekend I became a granddad for a second time. I won’t pretend there weren’t anxious moments on the way and yes, sleep was lost as we waited for the news to finally come through. Even so, the wait was most certainly worth it – Eliza Ann is a beautiful baby girl. Born weighing a healthy 8lbs and 11oz, she has already enjoyed a good night sleep in the crib that five generations of my family have slept in before her. As well as my grandmother and mother, the 26 others who have slept in that crib includes my own children, my other grandchild, and, indeed, myself.
In the coming months though my granddaughter will grow bigger and soon she will have to leave the crib to the next member of the family who, even now, is being knitted together in her mother’s womb. [Psalm 139:13]. But still, Eliza will need to sleep. My hope for her is that she will always know what it is to sleep well, but of course there are likely to be times when life for her will make that difficult. And when it does, I pray that she might find Psalm 3 as helpful as her Grandad does. It goes like this.
O LORD, how many are my foes! Many are rising against me; many are saying of my soul, “There is no salvation for him in God.” But you, O LORD, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head. I cried aloud to the LORD, and he answered me from his holy hill. I lay down and slept; I woke again, for the LORD sustained me. I will not be afraid of many thousands of people who have set themselves against me all around. Arise, O LORD! Save me, O my God! For you strike all my enemies on the cheek; you break the teeth of the wicked. Salvation belongs to the LORD; your blessing be on your people!
It’s common for those who are anxious, or under stress to find it difficult to get a good night’s sleep, so it’s no surprise that some of us find it sometimes difficult to awake refreshed after a full eight hours. After all, life is sometimes difficult, there are times when we all are unsettled by things that are changing around us, and we are uncertain of what the future might hold. And there are those who tonight will even fear for their lives as missiles threaten to take their life before morning comes. For some the nights have indeed been long.
In Psalm 3, David is under stress. His son Absalom has led an uprising against him and has even plotted to have him killed. David has had to flee and, as he has done so, he has had to listen to the taunts of those who oppose him, taunts which suggest that God is no longer for him. David however knows better. He knows God is his shield, the lifter of his head. Knowing that God will protect him and knowing he will not be put to shame, David therefore cries out to God.
And God answers.
And as a result, despite all his difficulties, David can sleep – knowing that it is God who sustains him as he does so.
Because of the protection he is confident God will give, David will not fear his enemies. He doesn’t doubt that God will deal with them, that he will both shame them and disarm them. As such, David knows salvation belongs to the Lord.
And so it is with us. Daily we face difficulties. We may feel overwhelmed by them and struggle as others look on and question how we can still trust in a God who, from their point of view, seems to have abandoned us. But we know different. Because, as we too cry out to God, he answers us in the promises he has made, the promises we find in the Bible. And so, with the shield of faith, we can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one [Ephesians 6:16].
Because the truth is that, no matter what our circumstances might be, God is for us. And ‘if God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also, with him, graciously give us all things?’ [Romans 8:31-32]
So then, we can be absolutely confident ‘that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. [Romans 8:38-39]
Knowing these things will help us, like David, to sleep at night. Like him, we can be sure that God will sustain us too.
But whilst Psalm 3 is a ‘Psalm of David’, written ‘when he fled from Absalom his son’, it is, at the same time, a psalm about another, greater, king.
Like David, King Jesus was rejected by his own people and was taunted by those who saw him as one who was beyond salvation. As Jesus hung on the cross, he was derided by those who passed by ‘wagging their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!” [Mark 15:29-30].
Unlike David however, Jesus was not spared death – even so, death could not hold him. Though he laid down and died, God did not let his ‘holy one see corruption’ [Psalm 16:10]. God sustained Jesus too – even in death. And on the third day he rose again.
And the same will be true for us.
Because whilst we will all one day die, as the verses above remind us, it remains the case that not even death can separate us from the love of God. On occasions in the New Testament Jesus describes those who are dead as merely sleeping. And no wonder. For when we do die, we can be confident that it will be no more difficult for Jesus to raise us as it would be for him to wake us from sleep. And so, just as he did with the dead daughter of the ruler in Matthew 9, he will take our hand or, perhaps, just as he did with the four days dead Lazarus of John 11, he will call our name. And when he does, we too will be raised.
God will sustain us, even in death.
And so, just as he did with David’s enemy, God has shamed and disarmed our enemies – the last enemy needing to be destroyed being death itself. [1 Corinthians 15:26]. And because of the cross, ‘death has been swallowed up in victory’ [1 Corinthians 15:54]. We who were dead in our sin, God has made alive. He has forgiven us all our trespasses, cancelling the record of debt that stood against us, setting it aside by nailing it to the cross.
Jesus’s death paid the penalty for our sins and, in so doing, God disarmed the rulers and authorities, triumphing over them and putting them to open shame, [Colossians 2:13-15]. With sin dealt with, death then has lost its sting. It has been disarmed and rendered utterly powerless. Now and forever.
This is good news indeed.
For reasons I won’t go into, we did not hear of the birth of our new grandchild for several hours after she was actually born. Though she was delivered just before midnight on Saturday evening, we did not know of her arrival until a little after six on the Sunday morning. And I was reminded once again that good news is only truly good once it is told, that what is true can only be rejoiced over, once it’s been made known.
Which is why I sometimes write as I do. Because the good news of Jesus’ victory over sin and death needs to be spoken about if others are to know the joy that comes from receiving it.
For those who do, they is every reason to sleep soundly at night – irrespective of their circumstances. Because the God who keeps them safe is one who neither slumbers nor sleeps [Psalm 121:2-3]. And when at last their time comes to die, they will be able to ‘rest in peace’ as those who ‘rely, not on [themselves], but on the God who raises the dead’. [2 Corinthians 1:9].
Because salvation really does belong to the LORD, and his blessing really is on his people.
And so I hope that it’s not just little Eliza that will sleep like a baby tonight. Rather it is my earnest hope that all who read this might know what it is to sleep well too.
Sweet dreams!
To read ‘We went to the animal fair – the diary of a novice grandparent’, click here
This week I’ve been watching ‘Mr Bates vs The Post Office’.
I don’t suppose there are many reading this who are unaware of what this superb ITV drama is all about but, for those who have not seen it, or the headlines that it has created, it charts the story of hundreds of honest sub-postmasters and mistresses who, due to errors in a computer system, were accused by the Post Office of false accounting and theft. Many were financially ruined, some received criminal convictions and others, despite their complete innocence, were served custodial sentences and thus spent time in prison.
Furthermore, they were all lied to by the Post Office who repeatedly told them that nobody else was reporting any difficulties with the computerised system that had, in fact, been the cause of all their problems. Each and every one was told, ‘You’re the only one.’
It is an account of a catastrophic miscarriage of justice made all the more tragic by the fact that some of those who were so publicly humiliated took their own lives.
As well as a being a reminder of the dangers of our being over reliant on technology, several other themes emerge over the four part series. Given that we live in a country where even the most trustworthy people can be falsely convicted, the first is simply that sometimes there really is smoke without fire. A second is that the truth is the truth, however many lies are told by those who seek to conceal it. And a third is that justice is important, and worth fighting for, irrespective of long the battle for it to be won might be.
But perhaps the most important thing that we need to recognise having watched this important television drama, is that irrespective of how impossible life might be for us, we are never the only one who is finding it difficult.
Even when, we very much feel that we are.
Because when we feel we’re totally inadequate, when we feel overwhelmingly sad, and when we feel that life is all too much – it helps to know that we’re not the only one.
Of course, recognising that there are others who are struggling just as we are won’t, in and of itself, make our problems disappear. But knowing that there are others like us, it might help us to stop imagining that all our problems are down to we ourselves having some unique inability to cope. And if we do, we might then be able to stop blaming ourselves for being unable to bear the unbearable.
Because, no matter how often you’ve been told the opposite, the truth is that none of us are awesome. And the reason you don’t currently feel that you are awesome, is simply because we’re all more average than some people like to insist that we are.
Furthermore, we all of us need an Alan Bates in our life, someone who can come to our rescue, not only by being awesome for us, but by bringing us quietly ordinary folk together in order that, together, we can be quietly, and contentedly, ordinary.
The problem of course is that for this to have any chance of actually happening, more of us are going to have to stop pretending that we are anything other than ordinary ourselves. Which in a world that encourages us to boast of all that we can do, will not be easy. Living contrary to cultural norms never is.
Even so, it will be worth it.
Firstly we will we be able to at last lay down the burden of always having to be awesome, one that is far too heavy for any of us to bear. And secondly, rather than having to always go it alone, we will know the joy that comes from not being too proud to receive the help of someone else.
And who knows, by acknowledging our weakness, we may find ourselves strong enough to expose the lies of those who, imagining themselves to be strong, cannot see just how weak they really are. Furthermore, in so doing, we might even help them to joyfully accept their own inherent weakness too.
Related posts:
To read ‘Machines – enough to drive you berserk’, click here
It was perhaps inevitable that I’d hear them said whilst watching the ‘The Repair Shop’ this week. The two little words were spoken by a lady who had just had returned to her what once had seemed an irreparable clay poppy, one that was, for her, a precious reminder of her now deceased dad. It had been handed back to her by ceramics expert Kirsten Ramsey who had somehow managed to make it as good as new once more.
Expressed so genuinely, I was struck by just how significant, how beautiful even, a ‘thank you’ can be.
For the person saying those words, it is an appreciation of the help that has been received, a humble acknowledgement of the need of others, a recognition that in this life we can not make it through alone.
And to the one to whom it is said, it is a confirmation that the assistance given was all they hoped it would be, it completes the joy that is inherent in aiding others, a reassurance that all that had been hoped for has finally been achieved.
But here’s the thing, genuine acts of kindness don’t in debt the one to whom that kindness was shown. For if it did it would not have been an act of kindness at all. Kirsten Ramsey is not now sat at her workbench waiting to be repaid, like some curmudgeonly relative who at Christmas, not having received a thank you letter by Boxing Day afternoon, is all affronted for not being lauded in the way they had expected for the oh so generous gift of a pair of black socks. Not at all, Kirsten Ramsey is, I’m sure, thrilled to have been able to help, the delight on the face of the one she was able to assist, reward enough for her endeavours.
And what is true on the horizontal plane is, I believe, true in the vertical direction too. What is true between we who live and breath on earth is equally true between we and the one one dwells above.
Helpless in the face of our wrongdoing, we need someone to come to our rescue, to repair a broken relationship that we can do nothing about. And recognising the restoration that has been brought about through the death of Jesus on our behalf, we too express our heartfelt appreciation, a ‘thank you’ that, though not demanded is, nonetheless, delighted in.
Because Jesus’ dying in a cross for us does not create a debt – it pays one. The one that we could never pay, so great is our wrongdoing.
So, like the owner of that now repaired clay poppy who has, no doubt, spoken to many of her acquaintances of Kirsten’s amazing restoration, our gratitude to God will similarly overflow in our excitedly telling others of all that he has done.
It is not Jesus then, who needs our praise, it is we who need to express it. For Jesus delights in our salvation and it was for the joy that was set before him that Jesus endured the cross. [Hebrews 12:2].
And we delight to praise Him, for in so doing is the pinnacle of our joy.
As C.S. Lewis once said:
‘I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation.’
Other ‘The Repair Shop’ related posts:
To read ‘The Repair Shop at the end of the year’, click here
A dog, as we all know, is for life, not just for an August Bank Holiday Monday when no county cricket is being played. Even so, finding myself with a Monday without gainful employment I took the opportunity afforded me to pick up our new puppy.
Meet Hector!
Here are some things you need to know about Hector.
1. The son of King Priam and Queen Hecuba, he was, apparently, the least annoying of all Greek heroes and the greatest of all the Trojan warriors. He was eventually killed by Achilles. In Greek mythology he was famous for wearing a particular sturdy helmet, so he shouldn’t be fazed by any short pitched bowling should Somerset, or any other team significantly depleted teams by The Hundred, ever come calling.
Butter wouldn’t melt…
2. His middle name is ‘Watching the gathering crowds’ – a reference to Debden Jubilee, the erstwhile news reporter from ‘On The Hour’, that wonderful radio comedy of the early 1990s. Though the moniker is, perhaps, a bit of a mouthful, it is still considerably shorter than that of our last dog, Barney, whose middle name was ‘Don’t drive that Rhino up a tree, it’s fallen death will shame your people’. Chris Morris, Steve Coogan and Armando Iannucci have a lot to answer for!
It may be a flowerbed, but that’s no flower asleep in it!
3. He’s the third dog that we’ve owned since getting married, and he thus fulfils the promise strangely omitted from our marriage vows that stated that we would have a dog for every child that was born to us. Our son, the youngest of our three children is now 25, so it’s taken a bit of time to make good on that particular pledge!
In the correct bed – well very nearly!
4. 14 months on from when we said ‘a farewell to Barns’, Hector has very big paws to fill – even so, as the newest member of our family, we think he’ll be every bit as lovely.
The always smiling Barney.
August 29th
So far Hector has settled in extremely well. True he needs to be reminded not to help when it comes to picking the flowers in the garden, and does, when excited, have the occasional accident – but hey isn’t that true for all of us as we get a little older!
He has also been the much needed incentive to kickstart the decluttering of our home given how adept he is at commandeering sundry items that we’ve left lying on the floor – items that he finds strangely more helpful than the toys we’ve specifically bought him, at some considerable expense, to cope with his teething issues.
I’ve heard of read, learn and inwardly digest but this is taking it too far!
For all that though he’s a happy, playful soul who is great company and a joy to have around.
Another ‘jolly old Hector’ – this one from the children’s TV series of the 1960s ‘Hector’s House’ though I recently discovered that the original was in French and called ‘La Maison de Toutou’
August 30th
I shall enjoy taking him to watch Somerset play. Sadly he won’t be fully vaccinated in time for their final game of the season against Kent next month – but, having already mastered the rudiments of the game, at least he’ll be able to watch the match via the livestream on YouTube!
Already expressing a preference for red ball cricket!
August 31st
Strange things have been taking place in the town where I live. Crime has plummeted this past week with reports coming in that a caped vigilante has been seen patrolling the mean streets of Wellington throughout the hours of darkness. Furthermore, contrary to our expectations, our sleep has NOT been disturbed by the sound of a puppy crying because he has been left alone in the kitchen overnight. It’s like he’s not even there.
Coincidence? I think not.
By day, the mild mannered Hector, by night… Batdog™ !
Hanging upside down – as every good Batdog™ should!
September 2nd
The problem with black Labradors is that they don’t show up terribly well in the dark. That’s why we’ve supplied Hector with these rather natty occular accoutrements. Not only can we now see him at reduced lighting levels but he’s also in with a chance of winning ‘The dog with the most appealing eyes’.
September 3rd
And then, looking down at the sinister creature that she had once again been forced to drag from the very much out of bounds settee, Little Red Riding Hood said:
‘Oh what wild staring eyes you have Hector!’
‘All the better to strike fear into the hearts of those upon whom I fix my gaze, my dear’
‘Oh what inky black fur you have Hector!
‘All the better for lurking in the shadows, my nefarious deeds to pursue unnoticed, my dear’
‘And oh what tiny sharp teeth you have Hector!’
‘All the better to rip the flesh from your invitingly exposed upper limbs, my dear’.
Little Red Riding Hood paused a moment to reappraise her feelings on the issue of canine couch convention and then, having plumped up the two soft cushions of the aforementioned three seated sofa, proceeded to invite the hound to make himself comfortable.
And that, she knew, as she curled up in the long since abandoned dog basket in the corner of the room, was the beginning of…
THE END.
September 4th
He said he wouldn’t steal a piece of fake coal from the fireplace.
He lied!
September 17th
Three o’clock in the morning and it looks like it’s going to be another sleepless night – so some advice please…
I have recently taken on a new patient whose behaviour is proving something of a problem.
The underlying issue is simply one of nocturia but it is the impact that this is having on the rest of his family that is the principle cause for concern.
Though far from being an elderly patient, the individual in question is insisting on drawing attention to his nocturnal need to micturate by waking the whole household in the wee small hours – pun absolutely intended – and then insisting he be accompanied outside, this being his preferred place for answering his seemingly pressing call of nature. Furthermore, if ignored, he has taken to urinating in the corner of his bedroom and refusing to clear up after him when daylight eventually comes.
So my question is: should I
a) insist that the members of his family put up with disturbed sleep and the associated daytime somnolence until such time as the patient sees the error of his ways and starts acting more responsibly,
b) ask the district nursing team to catheterise the individual and live with the risk of the patient using his bare teeth to shred the urethral appliance to pieces in a manner similar to the technique he has employed with other plasticised items in recent weeks,
c) refer to the CMHT with a view to them employing a cognitive-behavioural approach in which, given his predilection for chicken flavoured comestibles, some form of poultry based reward is offered him when the shenanigans described above are absent,
or
d) attempt to overcome the patient’s refusal to swallow tablets and covertly administer an alpha blocker by secreting it in his evening meal. If so, does anyone know where I can find a dosage regime for the use of tamsulosin in juvenile delinquents of this type?
September 20th
What with work and life getting in the way, I’ve not seen much county championship cricket this season so I was looking forward to spending my day off watching Somerset v Kent.
But with the weather forecast for Taunton being what it was I decided instead to stay at home and spend the time explaining to Hector the intricacies of how you can be out LBW? After all, he seemed keen to learn, not least because he’d be vulnerable to a ball pitching in the ‘ruff’!
Furthermore, given that he still lacks full understanding of the command ‘Wait’, I suspect he may be liable to getting himself run out.
Even more concerning though is his long tail – something else which could one day also prove a problem!
September 22nd
TodayI told Hector of Tom Lammonby’s century yesterday for Somerset. Given his response it seems likely he’ll be asking I buy him club membership next year.
But he is a little apprehensive about the current prospects for play…
September 24th
Last night we watched ‘A Quiet Place 2’. For those unfamiliar with the film’s premise it involves ferocious alien creatures who cannot see you but are liable to rip you to shreds if they hear you.
As I tiptoed silently across the landing last night I reflected on how life sometimes mirrors art!
Yes, Hector does still has those very sharp puppy teeth!
September 27th
Still, for the time being at least, a frontline healthcare worker, today I had my Covid booster. But it wasn’t just me who was jabbed this morning as Hector was due a vaccination too.
But whereas the vet plied her patient with tasty liver paste and various other canine treats, all I got from the person sticking a needle in me was her reassurance that I didn’t yet look 65, something which, given I’m a good few years off that particular landmark, I would like to think was obvious!
That a dog should be shown such favouritism doesn’t seem right to me but at least I came away with a sharps box which should enable the safe disposal of Hector’s baby teeth when they at last start falling out!
October 3rd
With tomorrow being the first day he’s allowed out, Hector has spent the day planning where he’d like to go for his first walk.
Sadly though, since he’s only allowed short excursions for a while, I’m going to have to tell him that his choice of a 10 mile hike taking in the Steart Marshes and Bridgwater Bay will have to wait ‘till he’s older.
October 4th
When in life you’re faced with a dilemma and you don’t know quite what course to take, do as I do and ask yourself this simple question:
WWHD – What would Hector do?
The answer will invariably be ‘Chew it’!
Hector would however like it to be known that he was absolutely NOT scared of the hoover this morning, it’s just that sometimes he likes being under the kitchen table.
He did enjoy his first walk up the field though.
October 5th
Hector enjoyed his interpretive dance class today. Asked by his instructor to convey the confining nature of the womb, he made imaginative use of his legs to represent the three blood vessels of the umbilical chord.
6th October
Next up in The Repair Shop is a man who has travelled up from Somerset with a rather ropey looking duck toy that has been in his family for literally minutes.
But it has now seen better days due to the way its been treated by the most recent arrival in his household.
‘It’ll take a lot of work to restore it’ says Jay Blades eyeing the item in a concerned fashion, ‘and frankly I’m not sure it’s worth the effort. If, that is, you’re going to keep the dog?’
The Somerset man indicates his understanding before sloping sadly away muttering as he does so something about how a dog is for life, and not just for September.
It seems that some jobs are too big for even a dream team of master craftspeople.
October 11th
At puppy training this week Hector learned the difference between ‘Wait’ and ‘Leave’.
‘Wait’ is the command given for something he can have after a short delay, whilst leave is the command for something he can never have.
So, for example, he should ‘wait’ for a treat but ‘leave’ a friends very expensive leather bag.
Pity he didn’t learn that a day earlier!
October 25th
The dogtor will see you now!
We were delighted to have Hector locuming for us today at East Quay Medical Centre and proving that Dr Phil Hammond was right when he said that for 90% of symptoms you’re better off with a dog than a doctor. He further pointed out that, as well as being an antidote to loneliness and a great incentive to exercise, our canine friends are always willing to give encouraging licks – something which most GPs are reluctant to do!
And as well as providing excellent care, Hector’s fee for the day, consisting as it did of just a handful of treats and a copious number of tickles, was highly competitive when compared against the going rate.
My only criticism would be that he did, perhaps, order too many Lab tests!
November 5th
Today I watch Planet Earth 3 and I am now looking forward to David Attenborough narrating an episode on this strange creature whose diet today has consisted of the sofa, earth from the garden and a Welsh cake. Carry on like that and he may well find himself on the endangered list!
I wouldn’t mind but he’s not even Welsh!
November 15th
Recently our back door has taken on a strange brown colour and we haven’t for the life of us been able to work out what might have caused it. Today though I think I might have caught the culprit…not red handed perhaps, but certainly muddy pawed!
November 21st
Whilst walking Hector in ‘The Peaks’, the rain it pitter-pattered, But to our canny canine friend, in truth it hardly mattered, For though a stream he’d not ‘ere seen, he showed no hesitation, And so got wet without the need of cloud precipitation.
Along the sodden paths he sniffed, his tail he held up high, And when the mud we bid him ‘Leave’, he could not fathom why, ‘Cos self respecting Labradors, will of their own volition, Stop to devour, all they see fit, for speedy deglutition*!
*Apologies for the use of the fancy medical term for swallowing but old habits die hard and it was kind of necessary for the rhyme to work. I will try to be less magniloquent in future!
November 22nd
‘I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with S’, said Hector, demonstrating to everyone how good he now is at spelling. But his direction of gaze did somewhat give the game away!
November 23rd
Disappointed by suggestions that his spelling ability was imagined rather than real, Hector challenged me today to a game of Scrabble. He won of course – establishing an unassailable lead with an impressive opening score of 106, I never stood a chance!
November 25th
Pausing to avail myself of the flask of hot coffee with which I’d had the good sense to set out this morning, Hector took the opportunity to seat himself on a rocky ledge positioned a little higher than the patch of grass where I myself had chosen to take my ease.
Exaggerating the degree of fortification that his present surroundings provided, he then announced himself to be the ‘King of the Castle’, before having the temerity to add that he considered me to be a ‘rascal’, and a not particularly clean one at that. All this despite the fact that it was he, not I, who had spent much of our ramble consuming what most would consider unfit for canine, let alone human, consumption.
‘A rapscallion I may be’, I countered, ‘but at least I don’t eat the egested material of a hundred hillside herbivores’. The pleasure afforded me by my alliterative put down lasted only a moment however, as, adopting a supercilious air, he fixed me with his deep dark eyes and suggested that now might be a good time for me to polish his crown.
Chastened, I rummaged through my rucksack and pulled out the tin of Brasso that I always carry with for just such an occurrence as this. And so, dutifully submitting to the task in hand, I became the ever so humble servant of King Hector the Halitotic.
November 28th
Family birthday today – good to have extra help with the unwrapping!
December 4th
Can anyone translate – I’m not quite sure what he’s trying to say but it might have something to do with his having been taken out in the pouring rain. For anyone who can speak Labrador, I apologise for any bad language that this clip might contain!
December 6th
Once a Prime Minister has completed their first 100 days in office, it is not unusual for political commentators to review what that new premier has achieved in that time.
Well today marks the 100th day since Hector darkened our doors with his jet black fur. And so I thought that I’d reflect a little on what he has managed to achieved since joining us.
So far he has:
Destroyed a significant proportion of the plant life in our garden and left an unsightly hole in the already dismal looking lawn.
Devoured two and half very large sacks of puppy food and produced a seemingly greater amount of material that has had to be deposited in the conveniently positioned red bin situated at the end of our road
Disturbed over 90% of our nights with his nocturnal requests to have just one more moonlit stroll around the now barren flower beds.
Driven us to ever higher degrees of vigilance in a vain attempt to avoid a repeat of those occasions when he chewed up an unguarded paperback book or the straps of a dear friend’s rather expensive leather bag.
Covered the kitchen floor with his muddy paw prints such that our constant cleaning seems more futile than that of Sisyphus and his oversized boulder which, had he been there to ‘help’ Hector would probably have crunched into a thousand tiny pieces before leaving them strewn across the King of Ephyra’s courtyard.
Lain awkwardly across his bed in such a way that, with his airway partially obstructed, he snores so loudly and so persistently through the most tense moments of TV dramas that we can barely follow what’s going on.
And that’s just about it really – other than one last thing that he’s managed to do, namely to so endear himself to us that we wouldn’t want to ever be without him.
Which, when you think about it, is really rather odd!
December 11th
Dear Canine Behavioural Psychotherapist,
Judging by the holes that he has started digging in our back garden, my black Labrador puppy appears to believe himself to be part of the Leporidae family.
Should I
a) start feeding him carrots and have him vaccinated against myxomatosis
b) send him off to the circus in the hope that he can make a living in a freak show as the world’s only Rabbit Dog, or
c) concrete over the lawn and accept the fact that I was never going to win anything at the Chelsea flower show anyway.
Yours ever so sincerely but perhaps now just the teensiest bit exasperated…
December 12th
Dear Canine Behavioural Psychotherapist,
I’m sorry to bother you again but since our last communication, my allegedly intelligent black Labrador puppy seems to have taken, a little too literally, my assertion yesterday that he didn’t have a leg to stand on for his injudicious digging up of our back garden.
I say this as it would appear that he has now resolved, in his all too tiny mind, to try and eat his way through his own hindquarters. Having not come across such autocannabalistic endeavours before, I was wondering, should I:
a) allow him to continue unabated and reduce his daily food allowance accordingly,
b) check Amazon for a suitable prosthesis and, given his obvious enthusiasm for the task in hand, hope that it is available for next day delivery or
c) dig out my sons long discarded skateboard with a view to it forming the basis of a device upon which, when the inevitable happens, he can propel himself using only the power of his inherent determination to always move in the direction of food irrespective of how putrid the imagined tasty morsel might be?
Thank you in anticipation of having to correspond with you yet again in the not too far distant future.
Yours ever so sincerely…
December 16th
‘Sanctuary’ – for the dog who rolls in fox poo.
December 21st
Hector gets ready for his staring role in the local Nativity Play.
December 24th
‘Twas the night before Christmas and, at 4pm, when it had only just got dark, Hector got himself ready for bed evidently looking forward to what his stocking would contain in the morning!
He wasn’t, however, very good job at pretending to be asleep!
December 25th
Hector was pleased with his Christmas present – so much so he promptly destroyed it. Still I suppose it saves him having to write a thank you note!
January 1st
It’s early days but So far at least, Hector’s New Year’s resolution, to always wipe his paws thoroughly after coming in from the garden, seems to be going pretty well!
But don’t be fooled by his innocent looking face, he’s only gone and eaten the bloomin’ Christmas tree!
Ah well, it was time we bought some new decorations anyway!
January 6th
When you’re a big dog but think you’re a small cat
January 7th
Dressed all in black it was perhaps inevitable that Hector would one day try his paw at football refereeing. Seems like he intends to come down hard on any wayward tackles!
January 21st
Our Hector is a Labrador He’s not a smelly rat, And so it is my earnest hope That he’s now clear on that.
‘Cos poison meant for vermin, Is food unfit for dogs, Still Hector thought he’d try some but… …he hasn’t popped his clogs!
We took him to our local vets, Their treatment it succeeded, But it ain’t like the NHS Free at the point it’s needed.
The moral of this costly tale Is dogs, ‘Eat poison less’ And to avoid high healthcare bills, Fight for the NHS.
January 30th
In a desperate attempt to claw back some of the expense of his recent trip to the vet, we’ve decided that Hector now needs to get himself a job so as to be able to contribute to the household finances.
And so today he started work as a plumber’s assistant. It was a bit of wrench to see him leave home this morning, but who knows what as yet untapped talents he may possess!
Feel free to add your own plumbing related puns below – but please, don’t force it!
9th February
What a difference a dog makes, Twenty four little weeks Lost the sun and the flowers Now there’s nothing but…
…well take a look for yourself! Our garden, before and after Hector!
BeforeAfter
17th February
I’d like to say that this is a photograph of Hector helping me clear away the vast quantity of sticks and other assorted plant life, that he had previously distributed across our back lawn.
However, it’s not.
On the contrary, having spent a considerable while on the solitary task of completely filling a green wheely bin with the detritus resulting from his clumsy attempts at gardening, it should have come as no surprise to me that he would take the first opportunity afforded him to begin the enthralling task of trying to empty it all back out again.
This then, dear reader, is what is pictured here.
21st February
Suprised to find that we’d had a tree down overnight – I mean it wasn’t that windy. But then, what other explanation could there possibly be for this branch to appear in the middle of our lawn?
Oh, the Hec-tor, has such teeth, dear And he shows them pearly white…
Well at least he apparars to have enjoyed his breakfast, given how he’s licking his lips!
The branch that mysteriously appeared in our back garden this morningHector’s pearly white teethYum Yum!
25th February
Always nice to have someone waiting to welcome you back home…
Surely that can’t be comfortable!
2nd March
We have a Moldovan Pastor staying with us at the moment. The question is, will he survive his time with us. Because the toast he was about to enjoy for breakfast didn’t, not with Hector prowling around the dining table! Happily though, his fingered all remain intact!
Don’t be fooled by his innocent face!
March 31st – Easter Day
I’m sorry folks, but I’m afraid I have some rather tragic news to report.
After his mistress failed to share with him her Easter egg, Hector decided to take things into his own hands or, somewhat more precisely, he chose to take her arm into his mouth.
Things then spiralled out of control and what began as a harmless bit of fun, took a somewhat darker turn as he skipped about in front of me with the former Mrs Aird’s severed limb now dangling from his slavering jaws.
Regrettably, the tiny dog treat that I held out to my increasingly excited canine friend was not sufficient to persuade him to give up his ill gotten gains and I was, alas, unable to prevent him from stripping the scapula, humerus and ulna of and every ounce of flesh
And so it was, as I looked on helplessly, that I found myself wondering if I should have proffered one of my own chocolatey comestibles by way of distraction instead.
Which, of course, I would have done had the seasonal confectionery in question not been both a particular favourite of mine and wholly unsuited to a Labrador’s gastrointestinal system.
Still, you live and learn.
And even though I’ll miss the one to whom I was, until very recently, betrothed, I do at least have this photograph to remember her by!
April 3rd
Things you’d prefer your dog not to find washed up on the beach: No. 238
Oh Hector!
I mean it’s not as though his breath didn’t stink already!
April 4th
For Labradors of jet black hue, a walk it ain’t complete, If nothing dead and putrid is available to eat, But though today, the one thing in his mouth was long and pink, he Still has breath, take it from me, that’s really rather stinky!
10th April
‘So,’ said Hector, after I explained to him, yet again, the behaviour we expected of him should we ever be foolish enough to leave him at home alone again, ‘let me see if I’ve got this right. I CAN empty the contents of the kong toy you left me with – but NOT that of my overpriced padded blanket’
‘That’s it in a nutshell’, I replied, my fractured mind, the consequence of nine long months in the presence of this Labradorian menace, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that I was now conversing with an apparently talking dog.
At which point I swear the canine creature’s facial features contorted into the barely perceptible, yet unmistakable grin of one who knew he was now the undisputed leader of the pack.
April 18th
Sometimes it’s good to paws for thought and consider the most important questions in life. Such as, what would we do without our canine friends?
Well a lot less hoovering for a start!
April 21st
Popped into the County Ground in Taunton for the afternoon session of Somerset v Nottinghamshire to give Hector his first taste of championship cricket.
Initially he was keen to see all that was going on but enthusiasm did wain just before tea after what hadn’t, perhaps, been the most enthralling couple of hours play.
As you can see below though, he did make two appearances on the livestream with Vic Marks, a childhood hero of mine describing his antics!
As the Test Match Special commentator said, ‘I think you’ll find that when there’s a hungry dog on the screen, not much is happening out in the middle!
View from the Pavilion – Gimblett HillCatching every possible glimpse
Hector on the livestream
April 23rd
Whether you’ve arrived here, by bicycle or car Whether you are local or have travelled from afar The fact remains the same, dear friend, you’ll end up in a pickle If you don’t stop to chat awhile and give this chap a tickle!
Now you may be a neighbour, or a postie with a letter Either way, do as I say, it really would be better And please take note all ne’er do wells with intentions not good If you ignore his pleading eyes he’ll wake the neighbourhood!
And if you are a GP who is visiting the sick, Best bring some sanitiser, for your hands he’s sure to lick, But have no fear, though he’s enclosed, within a garden gated, He’ll not pass on canine disease, he’s fully vaccinated!
April 24th
In Stella Gibbon’s book, ‘Cold Comfort Farm’, the characters frequently refer to there being something nasty in the woodshed.
What exactly it is is never fully explained, but we’re left in no doubt that it’s something sinister that is best kept hidden from the world at large.
Well today I went to my tool shed – and found there something equally dark and inexplicable!
April 28th
When you know you shouldn’t have, did anyway, and fear now that you’ve been found out!
May 4th
May 5th
No, not a still from a canine remake of ‘The Great Escape’, but an attempt by Hector to reach the sandwich that someone had discarded on the other side of the fence.
As for the aforementioned film, Hector did audition for the Steve McQueen role but wasn’t successful – not because of an inability to ride a motorbike you understand, but due to his insufficiently blue eyes.
To be fair though, he’d probably have been better casted as an S.S. Officer. That, or for a part which involved more actual digging!
May 6th
Bluebells, and breath that smells, Slobbering jowls, Black hairs, and chewed up chairs, Erratic bowels, Vice like jaws, and muddy paws, Bags full of poo, All kinds of everything, remind me of you.
May 9th
After discovering that the lower branches of my little apple tree have been largely destroyed by a creature or creatures unknown, I have begun researching whether or not there is a breed of miniature giraffe that might, perhaps, be indigenous to the British Isles.
If, however, my quest for such an animal proves fruitless* then I suppose I will have to come up with some more obvious explanation.
*much as I expect my apple tree to be this summer
Hector though, might just have given himself away with this attempt of his to help me prune the roses!
May 10th
At the end of a week that had me, on more than one occasion, telling Hector to stop ripping branches from the plant life that surrounds our garden, today I spent the morning wielding a hedge trimmer almost as indiscriminately at Hector does his sharp white teeth.
Inevitably Hector joined me to help with the clear up operation, and as he did so I a swear I heard him mutter ‘Hypocrite!’
It was either that or ‘After you with the power tool!’
Apparently, I missed a bit!
13th May
‘No, it’s the middle of the night and you can’t stay out any longer in the hope of seeing the aureola borealis’
TO BE CONTINUED… probably!
Other dog related blogs:
To read ‘A Farewell to Barns’, with an exclusive performance of Barney’s recently discovered Christmas hit, click here
Part 4 of what is rapidly becoming ‘The Chronicles of Hector’. Here are some festive incidents from the life of Hector- now 6 months old.
November 28th
Family birthday today – good to have extra help with the unwrapping!
December 4th
Can anyone translate – I’m not quite sure what he’s trying to say but it might have something to do with his having been taken out in the pouring rain. For anyone who can speak Labrador, I apologise for any bad language that this clip might contain!
December 6th
Once a Prime Minister has completed their first 100 days in office, it is not unusual for political commentators to review what that new premier has achieved in that time.
Well today marks the 100th day since Hector darkened our doors with his jet black fur. And so I thought that I’d reflect a little on what he has managed to achieved since joining us.
So far he has:
Destroyed a significant proportion of the plant life in our garden and left an unsightly hole in the already dismal looking lawn.
Devoured two and half very large sacks of puppy food and produced a seemingly greater amount of material that has had to be deposited in the conveniently positioned red bin situated at the end of our road
Disturbed over 90% of our nights with his nocturnal requests to have just one more moonlit stroll around the now barren flower beds.
Driven us to ever higher degrees of vigilance in a vain attempt to avoid a repeat of those occasions when he chewed up an unguarded paperback book or the straps of a dear friend’s rather expensive leather bag.
Covered the kitchen floor with his muddy paw prints such that our constant cleaning seems more futile than that of Sisyphus and his oversized boulder which, had he been there to ‘help’ Hector would probably have crunched into a thousand tiny pieces before leaving them strewn across the King of Ephyra’s courtyard.
Lain awkwardly across his bed in such a way that, with his airway partially obstructed, he snores so loudly and so persistently through the most tense moments of TV dramas that we can barely follow what’s going on.
And that’s just about it really – other than one last thing that he’s managed to do, namely to so endear himself to us that we wouldn’t want to ever be without him.
Which, when you think about it, is really rather odd!
December 11th
Dear Canine Behavioural Psychotherapist,
Judging by the holes that he has started digging in our back garden, my black Labrador puppy appears to believe himself to be part of the Leporidae family.
Should I
a) start feeding him carrots and have him vaccinated against myxomatosis
b) send him off to the circus in the hope that he can make a living in a freak show as the world’s only Rabbit Dog, or
c) concrete over the lawn and accept the fact that I was never going to win anything at the Chelsea flower show anyway.
Yours ever so sincerely but perhaps now just the teensiest bit exasperated…
December 12th
Dear Canine Behavioural Psychotherapist,
I’m sorry to bother you again but since our last communication, my allegedly intelligent black Labrador puppy seems to have taken, a little too literally, my assertion yesterday that he didn’t have a leg to stand on for his injudicious digging up of our back garden.
I say this as it would appear that he has now resolved, in his all too tiny mind, to try and eat his way through his own hindquarters. Having not come across such autocannabalistic endeavours before, I was wondering, should I:
a) allow him to continue unabated and reduce his daily food allowance accordingly,
b) check Amazon for a suitable prosthesis and, given his obvious enthusiasm for the task in hand, hope that it is available for next day delivery or
c) dig out my sons long discarded skateboard with a view to it forming the basis of a device upon which, when the inevitable happens, he can propel himself using only the power of his inherent determination to always move in the direction of food irrespective of how putrid the imagined tasty morsel might be?
Thank you in anticipation of having to correspond with you yet again in the not too far distant future.
Yours ever so sincerely…
December 16th
‘Sanctuary’ – for the dog who rolls in fox poo.
December 21st
Hector gets ready for his staring role in the local Nativity Play.
December 24th
‘Twas the night before Christmas and, at 4pm, when it had only just got dark, Hector got himself ready for bed evidently looking forward to what his stocking would contain in the morning!
He wasn’t, however, very good job at pretending to be asleep!
December 25th
Hector was pleased with his Christmas present – so much so he promptly destroyed it. Still I suppose it saves him having to write a thank you note!
January 1st
It’s early days but So far at least, Hector’s New Year’s resolution, to always wipe his paws thoroughly after coming in from the garden, seems to be going pretty well!
But don’t be fooled by his innocent looking face, he’s only gone and eaten the bloomin’ Christmas tree!
Ah well, it was time we bought some new decorations anyway!
Other dog related blogs:
To read ‘The All New Adventures of Hector’, click here
To read ‘The Return of a Dog Called Hector’, click here
Maybe it’s because I’m rapidly becoming a sentimental old fool, but take my advice and never, ever, agree to watch ‘The Repair Shop’ with me – not, that is, if you’re likely to feel awkward sat next to a grown man who is struggling to hold back the tears.
As a result of how much I bang on about it, my family will all tell you how I absolutely love ‘The Repair Shop’. What is it though that keeps me tuning in to watch each new episode, all of which are, essentially, the same?
Maybe it’s the inherent pleasure that comes from watching a group of skilled craftsmen and craftswomen at work, and seeing the obvious affection that each one has for all the others. Maybe it’s the warm glow I get inside from witnessing, not only the smiles they put on the faces of those whose broken items they repair, but the joy they themselves so evidently experience from doing so. Or maybe it’s because I’m guaranteed, not just one, but four happy endings with each heart warming episode.
But whatever the reason, I always enjoy the show and not infrequently find myself coming over all emotional. And catching up last night with this years Christmas special was no exception.
Because as well as being fun to watch an amazingly complex mechanical Christmas cake being restored, I found it genuinely moving to look on as the much more simple repair of an old record player took place.
The broken turntable enclosed within a wooden box had huge sentimental value for the lady who brought it to ‘The Repair Shop’, as it had been bought for her as a present by her 11 year old son, and given to her on Christmas Day 2005, less than two weeks before he died of osteosarcoma, a particularly unpleasant form of bone cancer.
Understandably, his mother wanted it repaired so she could use it to play the records she and her son had enjoyed when he had been alive. With it functioning again, she would be able recall more vividly the happy times they had shared, a tangible reminder of her son that would somehow make him feel that he was back with her once more
It was a highly emotional story and I was not the only one moved by it. Mark Stuckey, the electronics wizard charged with restoring the device, was also visibly affected by it such that he too was close on tears, something that must only have strengthened his resolve to make good the repair.
I don’t doubt how comforting it must be for the Mum to now be able to use her son’s parting gift to her to play the records that she listened to all those years before, but I couldn’t help wondering how much more comforting it would be if it had been her son who had been repaired, if it had been he that had been given back to her in perfect working order.
And so I thought of another reason why I might enjoy ‘The Repair Shop’ so much, and why I find it so often causing me to shed a tear. Perhaps, I thought, it’s because, as well as reminding me how much in this world is broken, it points me forward to a time that that will surely one one day be, when a more masterful craftsmen than any in ‘The Repair Shop’, and a greater physician than any I have ever worked with, returns and makes all things well.
Because as a Christian that is what I genuinely believe I have good cause to look forward to. I wholeheartedly believe that Jesus really will return and when he does, for God’s people, every tear will be wiped away and sickness and death will be no more.
At the end of a year in which so many have suffered as a result of war or natural disaster, and the beginning of another, which many I know will start with them struggling with sickness and sadness, it is a comfort to me that, whilst for now I weep with those who weep, we none of us need mourn as those who have no hope.
Because irrespective of whether Jesus returns this year, or long after I have myself died, it is no less true that, though weeping may tarry for the nighttime, joy really will come with the morning.
There are most certainly better days ahead – ones when the repair shop will no longer be required.
Paddington woke up. He stretched out his arms and yawned the yawn of a bear that had grown accustomed to the comfort of sleeping in a soft bed in a warm house in Notting Hill rather than in a leafy tree in the rainforests of Peru. He emitted a contented growl as he slid his legs over the edge of the bed and made his way to the bathroom. Having washed his hairy face and attended to his impressive teeth, being a bear who was always careful to obey instructions, Paddington left the cotton buds in their packet and, as had become his custom, proceeded to clean his ears out with an electric toothbrush. Then, with a couple of puffs of Otomize, sprayed into each of his auditory canals to treat his unaccountably persistent otitis externa, he finally completed his morning ablutions.
Downstairs breakfast was almost over and Mrs Bird was already beginning to clear the table. Mr Brown however was still sat there reading the morning paper. Paddington noticed the headline on the front page. Once again it was being reported that GPs were irresponsibly refusing to see patients in their surgeries for face to face appointments.
‘I don’t know’, Mr Brown said to Paddington, noticing him as he clambered onto a chair and began to help himself to a bowl of cereal. ‘Who’d be a doctor these days, what with all the bad press they seem to be getting? Sometimes I worry about whether Judy has done the right thing by going to medical school. Surely there must be better ways for her to make a living’.
Paddington continued to eat his breakfast. He was making something of a mess of things and it wasn’t long before Mrs Bird was fussing around him, mopping up the milk that was dripping off the table and collecting in small pools on the floor.
‘I hope you’re not planning on spending the whole day at home’, she said to Paddington. ‘I’ve already got plenty enough to do today without you making more work for me.’
Paddington thanked Mrs Bird for the breakfast and assured her that he had other plans for the day.
‘I thought I might go and see my friend Mr Gruber’, he said to her. ‘There’s something rather important I’d like to talk to him about’.
Paddington made himself a packed lunch made up solely of marmalade sandwiches which he then proceeded to balance on his head before covering them with his hat. Then he put on his old blue duffel coat and bright red Wellington boots and stepped out of the front door of number 32 Windsor Gardens. As he began to make his way down the steps to the street below he heard an angry voice coming from his neighbour’s house. Mr Curry was leaning out of the front window holding a phone to his ear.
‘Oi bear’, he shouted at Paddington ‘I need you to make yourself useful for once and post a letter for me. It needs to be in the post box at the end of the road before 10 o’clock. I can’t do it as I’m stuck here on the phone trying to get through to the GP surgery. I’ve already been kept waiting for 15 minutes and apparently there are still 37 other callers in front of me in the queue. What kind of service do you call that?’
‘I’m sure they’re all doing their very best’, replied Paddington, ‘I hear they are exceptionally busy at the moment and are struggling to cope with…’
Mr Curry was having none of it and interrupted Paddington mid sentence. ‘Don’t you start with all that rubbish about GPs being busy. The truth is that GPs are overpaid and lazy. They’re just scared of a hard days work and are taking advantage of all this nonsense about Covid-19 to make excuses as to why they can’t do their jobs properly. It’s not good enough. Some of us have urgent medical problems that need sorting. I’ve had a nasty wart on my finger for nearly a week now and I’m going to absolutely insist that somebody sees me about today.’
With that Mr Curry threw an envelope out of the window which landed at Paddington feet. Paddington picked it up and waved it cheerfully at Mr Curry. He then carefully slipped it under his hat explaining that that was where he kept everything that was important. He assured Mr Curry that he’d be sure to post it promptly.
‘Just be sure that you do’ Mr Curry growled at Paddington before slamming his window shut with such force that the glass rattled in the frame and Paddington thought for a moment that it might break.
Paddington continued on his way and before too long he was stood on the Portobello Road, outside the antique shop owned by Mr Gruber. Paddington pushed open the door, and as he did so a small bell chimed to announce his arrival.
‘Ah Mr Brown!’ Mr Gruber exclaimed emerging from the room at the back of the shop, ‘How very lovely it is for me to see you. Come in, come in. You are just in time for elevenses. I was just making some tea. Please join me and tell me what it is that I have done to deserve the honour of your company’.
Paddington sat down on an old chair. Mr Gruber poured them both a small cup of a tea from an old China tea pot and then, noticing that Paddington had a troubled expression on his face, asked his dear friend if anything was the matter.
‘Well it’s like this, Mr Gruber. Everyone seems to be blaming GPs for everything. Almost every day the newspapers have something unpleasant to say about them. Are they really the cause of all the problems in the NHS? And what about Judy? She seems such a kind young lady. Will she become mean and uncaring too after she’s been studying medicine for a few years?’
Mr Gruber walked over to where Paddington was sitting and sat down next to him. He smiled to himself as he placed the cups of tea on the small table that was positioned between them.
‘GPs aren’t the problem’, Mr Gruber began in his strong Hungarian accident. ‘And most of the people know it. But there are those who like to have somebody to blame and though it’s only really a very small number who have it in for GPs at the moment, they are making such a lot of noise just now. So you see Paddington, you shouldn’t believe everything that you read in the papers. If there’s one I know for sure it’s that not everything that’s reported there is strictly true. And something else I know for sure is this. You absolutely needn’t worry about Judy. She’ll always be as lovely as she is today.’
‘But why would reporters not want to tell the truth?’ asked Paddington.
‘Why indeed, Mr Brown Why indeed? Now drink your tea and l’ll see if I can’t find us something nice to eat’.
Paddington and Mr Gruber sat and chatted about how busy the NHS was and discussed what, if anything, could be done to make things easier for those who worked in what was, they both agreed, an organisation that needed to be supported rather than constantly criticised. After a while, Paddington stood up.
‘I think, Mr Gruber, that I had better get going. I think I’ll pop along to the doctors surgery that the Brown’s are registered at and see for myself just how busy they really are. Perhaps I could even lend a helping paw.’
And with that Paddington said ‘Goodbye’. He left Mr Gruber’s shop and made his way to the medical centre. It was about a twenty minute walk away and when he arrived it was approaching midday. Outside the front door of the building was a long queue of people. Paddington made his way to the front where a man was shouting at a receptionist and insisting that he be allowed to speak to the practice manager.
Paddington didn’t like the way the man was speaking to the lady behind the desk who was clearly close to tears. He gave a couple of firm tugs on the man’s sleeve in order to gain the man’s attention. The man duly stopped his tirade towards the poor receptionist and turned to look at the furry faced figure that was standing by his side.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ Paddington began. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt what I am sure is a very important conversation but I thought you might like to hear something that my Great Aunt Lucy used to say. She lives in a home for retired bears in Lima now but she always told me that ‘If we are kind and polite, the world will be alright’.
And with that Paddington wandered on into the main body of the medical centre, the man looking incredulously on as he did so. Slowly the man turned back to the receptionist, seemingly lost for words.
‘Was there anything else’, the receptionist asked him, her mouth now breaking out into a broad smile.
‘No, No, Nothing at all. thank you’, said the man. ‘Other than…’ He paused turning to watch as Paddington slipped out of sight. ‘Are you aware that you have bear in your health centre?’
Paddington, meanwhile, was making his way along a quiet corridor. At the end was a door. He pushed it open and found himself in what appeared to be a small store room. In front of him was a cupboard labelled with the words ‘Blood Bottles’. Paddington was a little concerned as to what might lie within so it was with some relief that, when he eventually summoned up the courage to open the door, he found that the shelves were all empty.
To his right was a trolly on which lay a strange looking machine, the like of which Paddington had never seen before. He looked at it closely and saw written over what appeared to be two handles, the words ‘Lift here’. Doing only what he was instructed, Paddington took hold of the handles noticing as he did so their shiny undersides. As he picked them up a light appeared on the machine and a voice that seemed to come from within the machine announced that a shock was advised. Paddington wasn’t quite sure what that meant but as he was pondering what he should do next the voice in the machine spoke again helpfully suggesting that he should press the button that had now started flashing insistently. Paddington clasped the two paddles to his chest with one hand and in so doing freed up the other hand to press the button as he had been directed.
Paddington wasn’t entirely certain what happened to him at that point but the next thing he knew he was he was lying on the floor looking up at the ceiling. Amazingly his hat was still on his head but the fur on his chest was badly singed, his body was covered with a soot like material and he noticed that wisps of smoke were spiralling out of both his ears.
‘Well that was a shock’, Paddington said to himself getting to his feet and brushing himself down. ‘Perhaps it would be better if I moved on and see if I might be able to offer my help more fruitfully elsewhere.’
Paddington made his way back down the corridor passing the reception area again and continuing on until he eventually came to a large room in which were a number of chairs placed in pairs, each pair a couple of metres away from any others. Only one chair was occupied. A young woman sat with her head down staring at the ground. She was fidgeting with her hands and she was having difficulty keeping her feet still. Paddington thought she looked sad and he went over to her seating himself in the chair next to hers.
‘What’s the problem’, he said to the woman who looked up at him, seemingly not registering the fact that she was being talked to by a bear.
‘Oh just everything’, she answered and with that she began to cry and proceeded to tell Paddington so many things that she was concerned about that Paddington didn’t know what to say. He thought it would be best therefore if he said nothing at all and decided instead to gently place his paw on the woman’s hand.
‘I’m sorry you’re sad’ he said, and as he did so a tear began to trickle down his cheek. As he sat there he remembered something else his Aunt Lucy had once told him, something she’d once read about how a real friend, a friend who truly cares, is someone who knows how to share the pain of another, who can stay with that person in their hour of grief and can face with them the reality of their powerlessness.
After a few minutes of silence, the woman looked up and smiled at Paddington, ‘Thank you’, she said. ‘It’s been lovely having you sat with me for a while. You’re a very kind bear.’
Just then a man stumbled into the waiting room. He staggered around until eventually he collapsed onto one of the chairs on the other side of the room to where Paddington and the young woman were sitting. He looked unwell. Very unwell. His skin was sweaty and he appeared confused. Paddington walked over to man and tried to make conversation but Paddington couldn’t make any sense of what the man was saying.
Paddington looked at the clock on the waiting room wall and noticing that the time was a little after one o’clock, had an idea. Perhaps, he thought, the problem was simply that the man was hungry. And with that Paddington lifted his hat and took the marmalade sandwiches that he’d made earlier down from off his head.
“Would you like to share my lunch?’ Paddington asked the man, ‘I never feel my best if I go without something to eat around this time of the day.’
The man didn’t appear to understand what Paddington was saying. He only seemed to be getting more and more unwell. Paddington, confident now that he’d diagnosed the problem correctly, forced open the man’s lips and pushed a little of one of the sandwiches into the man’s mouth. At first nothing happened but slowly the man’s colour returned and his speech became more coherent. Within a minute or two he’d stopped sweating and was sat upright in the chair smiling.
At that moment a doctor rushed into the room having been called by a receptionist who had noticed the sick man when he had first lurched into the building a few minutes previously.
‘What’s up?’ gasped the doctor, catching his breath after running as fast he could from his room on the other side of the building. He’d been busy all morning seeing other folk who were unwell and had just been admitting a patient who was acutely short of breath with what he suspected was a pulmonary embolus.
‘Nothing now, doc!’ smiled the man. ‘thanks to this ‘ere bear! I’d given myself too much insulin this morning and I was having another one of my hypos. But this young bear’s marmalade sandwich has put me right good and proper so it has!’
Paddington didn’t really understand what the man was saying but was glad he was clearly feeling very much better. A number of other people were now gathering in the waiting room and every single one of them was looking at Paddington. Paddington smiled back at them, taking a mouthful of what was left of the half eaten sandwich. ‘Would anyone else like I bite?, he asked. ‘I find that most things seem better after eating a small amount of marmalade’.
It was then that another receptionist walked into the room. She was looking somewhat alarmed. ‘Dr Mungo’, she said nervously. ‘There are some people here to see you. They say they are from the CQC’.
The receptionist stepped to one side revealing the two men and one women who were stood there behind her. They were all wearing smarts suits and clutching clipboards. None of them were smiling. The woman, who seemed to be the leader of the group, stepped forward.
‘We’ve come as a result of reports we’ve received that there is a bear on your premises. As you’ll be aware this is entirely unacceptable and if true will undoubtedly lead to the practice being rated as inadequate and having to shut down immediately’.
The room fell deathly silent. But then the man who had until recently been so unwell, stood up and approached the group of officials. ‘I’ll have you know this young bear just about saved my life’.
‘That’s as maybe sir. But how well a bear may or may not have managed your particular condition doesn’t change anything. The presence of a bear within the walls of a GP practice is a clear contravention of the guidelines that have been laid down to ensure the safe running of medical centres and I am afraid that I therefore have no option but…’
At this point the CQC inspector stopped talking, her eyes drawn to Paddington who had also stood up and was now looking at the woman intently. In fact, so intently was he looking at her, he might even be said to have been staring, one of those hard stares that Aunt Lucy had taught him to give to those who were acting in ways of which they should be ashamed. The inspector flushed, obviously embarrassed by her behaviour.
‘…but perhaps’ the woman continued slowly, ‘we can make an exception in this case. In fact, it will be my recommendation that this practice be rated as ‘Outstanding’, and I will see to it that you won’t face any further inspection for at least three years’.
With that the team of inspectors turned and left the building and everybody started clapping in delight. Somebody shouted ‘Three cheers for Paddington’ and before long a song started up, the gist of which seemed to be that everyone was happy to agree that Paddington was ‘a jolly good fellow’. Paddington however was feeling uneasy and his ursine features could not conceal the fact. Dr Mungo, noticing something was up, stepped over to where Paddington was sat and asked him what the matter was.
‘It’s this letter’, said Paddington, holding out the envelope that Mr Curry had thrown at him earlier. ‘I promised my neighbour that I’d post it by 10 o’clock but I completely forgot. It was only when I went to get my sandwich out from under my hat coat and it fell on the floor that I remembered. And now it’s too late and I won’t be able to post it on time’.
Dr Mungo took the letter form Paddington and laughed. ‘It’s OK, Paddington’, he said. ‘look at the address. It’s a letter for here! And if I’m not very mistaken I recognise the handwriting. It’s that of somebody who is always writing letters of complaint to the practice. I’ll file it with the others!’
Paddington was delighted by the news that Mr Curry’s letter had safely arrived at it’s intended destination. ‘Oh I am glad’, he said, ‘because it is so important one keeps one’s promises’. He paused for a moment. ‘Dr Mungo, try not to be too hard on Mr Curry. I don’t think he means to be unpleasant, it’s just that he doesn’t seem to have much that makes him happy. I think perhaps his life may have been rather hard’.
‘Don’t worry Paddington‘ said Dr Mungo smiling, ‘I’ll do my best to follow the advice of an old Peruvian bear who I believe once said that, ‘If you look for the good in people, you’ll generally find it’.
Paddington smiled. ‘Oh that’s so true, Dr Mungo. Aunt Lucy certainly is a wise old bear. But before I leave you to get on with your work, here’s something else she used to say. ‘However busy you are – always stop for lunch’.
And with that Paddington removed his hat and held out to Dr Mungo what was left of his lunch. ‘How do you fancy a marmalade sandwich?’ he said.
*****
PADDINGTON AND THE AILING ELDERLY RELATIVE
It was Christmas Eve and Dr Mungo was writing up what he hoped would be the last consultation of the day. As he did so he reflected on what had been an eventful twelve months. A year previously he’d been a partner at Portside Medical Centre but when several doctors left and nobody could be found to replace them, the practice had eventually collapsed. And so, when Bob Cratchit had got in touch and asked whether he would like to join his practice, filling the vacancy created by the untimely death of Dr Ebenezer Scrooge exactly one year ago, Dr Mungo had jumped at the chance.
The last few weeks though had been incredibly difficult. The demand for appointments had never been so high with duty doctors regularly being asked to manage more than a hundred requests for urgent medical attention a day. No wonder he was looking forward to a few days off over Christmas.
But then the phone rang. Dr Mungo picked up the receiver and heard the familiar voice of one of his receptionist.
‘I’m sorry to bother you Dr Mungo but we’ve just had a ‘walk in’ who says he’s worried about his Aunt. He says he tried to phone but, what with us taking so many calls this afternoon, he couldn’t get through. I should add, Dr Mungo, that the person with me in reception…well…he’s not a person at all. He is in fact…a bear!’
‘A bear you say?’
‘That’s right. And he says he knows you’.
‘Does he now?’ said Dr Mungo beginning to smile. ‘Is he by chance wearing a blue duffel coat and sporting a red hat?’
‘As a matter of fact he is. How did you know that?’
‘Because one doesn’t get to meet too many bears, not, at least, in this part of the world. It can only be Paddington. And yes I do know him well. What’s more I will be forever indebted to him as a result of his coming to my rescue when the CQC paid a particularly stressful visit to my old practice. Please, show him through’.
And so a minute or two later Paddington was stood in the doorway of Dr Mungo’s room.
‘Good evening Dr Mungo’ he said, lifting his hat as he did so. ‘It’s very kind of you to see me so late in the day. And on Christmas Eve too’
‘Not at all Paddington, it’s my very great pleasure. Now, how can I help?’
‘It’s my Aunt Lucy, Dr Mungo. She’s not been in the best of health for a while and has been in residential care for some years, living in a home for retired bears in deepest, darkest Peru. But she’s always wanted to visit London and the Brown’s very kindly said she could come and stay for Christmas. But this week she become more unwell with her breathing getting steadily worse. She didn’t want me to bother anyone but today I’m very worried about her. Could you possibly come and see her?’
‘Of course Paddington’, said Dr Mungo noticing the clock was showing that it was now past six thirty. ‘I’ll come straight away. Have you got your car?’
‘Sadly not. I had to stop driving a couple of months ago following an episode when Mr Brown panicked and took me to casualty because he sought I’d had some kind of absence attack. It was eventually put down as an unprovoked syncopal episode though in reality it was merely that I was experiencing a moment of ecstasy after tasting Mrs Bird’s steamed marmalade pudding’.
‘Oh I am sorry Paddington. But never mind that now, we’ll go together in my car. Follow me’
Dr Mungo grabbed his medical bag and exited the building, pursued by a bear. Paddington’s home was a few minutes drive away and so Dr Mungo took the opportunity to ask Paddington what he’d been up to since last they’d met.
‘Oh nothing much’, Paddington said, ‘though, having said that, there was that one occasion when I had tea at Buckingham Palace. I met the Queen there, a lovely lady and, do you know Dr Mungo, she told me she once did a parachute jump?’
‘I did hear something about that’ replied Dr Mungo, pulling up outside 32 Windsor Gardens as he did so.
They got out of the car and headed into the house whereupon Paddington led the way to the downstairs room where his ailing aunt was lying in bed. The room was in darkness and the only sound that could be heard was the obviously laboured breathing of an elderly omnivore. It was immediately clear to Dr Mungo that Paddington’s Aunt Lucy was in urgent need of medical attention and wasted no time in pulling his phone from out of his pocket and dialling 999.
The phone rang…and rang…and rang. But nobody answered. Eventually, when nearly ten minutes had past, Dr Mungo, knew he could wait no longer. Lately he had had patients experience long delays for ambulances and he was, therefore, all too well aware of how stretched the emergency services were. And so he decided he and Paddington would have to try and get Aunt Lucy to the hospital themselves.
Kneeling down next to her bed, he asked if she thought she could try to make it to the car. Aunt Lucy indicated her willingness to try with an almost imperceptible nod of her head and so began the painful process of sitting her up in her bed, easing her legs over the edge of the bed and then, with all her weight supported upon Dr Mungo’s shoulders, slowly walking her out of the room, across the hall and out onto the street. Finally, having manoeuvred Aunt Lucy into the backseat of his car and strapped Paddington safely in beside her, Dr Mungo got into the driver’s seat and set off for the hospital. As they arrived it was beginning to snow. Dr Mungo found a wheelchair that they could make use of and before long he was wheeling his ever more breathless patient through the doors of the A&E department.
Inside, the waiting room was packed. Patients were sat on every available chair and many more were sitting on the floor. A television screen attached to the wall indicated that the average waiting time was seven hours. Dr Mungo said that he’d stay with Aunt Lucy and suggested that Paddington should join the queue to tell the receptionist of their arrival.
In front of him was a man he recognised as his perpetually complaining neighbour, Mr Curry. Eventually he made it to the front of the queue and glared at the young woman who was doing her very best to enter everybody’s details on the hospital computer system.
‘Call this the National Health?’ Mr Curry began. ‘More like the national disgrace. You should all be ashamed of yourselves’
The receptionist tried to ignore his unpleasantness and enquired how she might help.
‘I want to see a doctor and I want to see one now’
‘Well as you can see sir, we are very busy. But if you could tell me what the problem is we’ll do all we can to help you just as soon as we possibly can’
‘I’m not telling someone who isn’t medically trained my problems. Get me a doctor this minute’
As he said this he felt a tug on his sleeve and turned to see Paddington looking at him intently. Suddenly he felt somewhat hot about the collar.
‘Why are you looking at me like that…is it me or is it hot in here… why am I feeling so uncomfortable…so flushed…so queasy?’
‘It’s a hard stare Mr Curry’ replied Paddington. ‘My aunt taught me to do them when people had forgotten their manners’
Suddenly Mr Curry forgot what aspect of his health had been concerning him and he wandered away from the reception desk leaving Paddington at the front of the queue. The receptionist smiled at him and thanked him for his patience.
‘That’s totally OK’ Paddington said, ‘I can see that you are busy, it must be very hard for you’
‘It is a little – especially when not everyone is as understanding as you are’
‘Aunt Lucy always says that if you look for the good in people, you’ll find it.’
The receptionist, unaccustomed to being spoken to so kindly, looked for a moment that she might cry.
‘Your aunt sounds like a very wise and exceptionally kind lady’ she said. ‘Perhaps she should write a book containing all the beautiful things that life has taught her’
‘That’s a lovely idea’ said Paddington, ‘but first I think she might need to see a doctor. She’s over there in the wheelchair. She’s very weak and she can hardly breathe’.
The receptionist looked across to where Paddington was indicating and saw immediately that Aunt Lucy needed urgent attention. She promised Paddington that she would get her seen as soon as possible and hurried off to find a nurse. Moments later one appeared and Paddington and Dr Mungo watched as she wheeled Aunt Lucy off to a separate room, explaining as she did so, that she’d be back as soon as she had any news.
It was now nearly 8pm and Paddington told Dr Mungo to go home explaining that he’d be fine now by himself. He explained the Browns would all be home by now and they would be able to collect him when the time came. Dr Mungo conceded that there was no more that he could do at present and so said his goodbyes but not before making Paddington promise that he would call if there was anything he could do to help.
Once alone, Paddington realised he was thirsty and he noticed that there was a machine that dispensed hot drinks standing in the corner of the waiting room. He briefly considered making use of it but, with the memory of an encounter he once had with a defibrillator still fresh in his mind, he dismissed the notion, recognising how, whenever he tried to make use of any electrical appliance, disaster seemed to inevitably ensue. On this occasion however he needn’t have worried for the machine was out of order and had been for some while.
Paddington then went for a walk around the emergency department. Amongst those waiting for treatment it seemed to Paddington that there were a great many who didn’t really need to be there at all and he wondered how the doctors and nurses coped in the face of such demand. Wandering further he passed through some double doors and found himself in a room where a doctor was sat at a desk with his head in his hands. And Paddington suddenly realised that not all doctors and nurses were coping.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked the doctor who looked like he might have been crying.
‘Oh nothing’ the medic replied. ‘It’s just that sometimes it all feels too much and that I’m just not good enough’
‘My Aunt Lucy says that we should never blame ourselves for what isn’t our fault.’ said Paddington. ‘She’d say that you were undoubtedly doing your best in sometimes impossible circumstances and that’s all anyone could ever ask of you’.
And with that Paddington lifted up his hat and pulled out a marmalade sandwich. ‘Before he died, my Uncle Pastuzo used to say ‘A wise bear always keeps a marmalade sandwich in his hat in case if emergency’. Well it seems to me that this is just such an emergency.’
Paddington held out the sandwich. ‘Take it’ he said. ‘It’ll do you good. You know, one marmalade sandwich contains all the minerals and vitamins a bear needs for a whole day!’
The doctor took a bite and as he did so he felt instantly better. It wasn’t that he was suffering from any nutritional deficiency, nor was it that he liked marmalade, on the contrary he found the taste particularly unpleasant. But the kindness with which the snack had been offered was sufficient to lift his spirits’.
‘Thank you’ the doctor said, putting what was left of the sandwich on the desk. ‘I guess I had better see another patient. It’s just such a shame that we sometimes have to see so many that don’t really need to be seen at all’.
And it was then that Paddington had an idea. He made his way back to the middle of the waiting room and then, having taken a big breath in, gave the biggest ursine growl of his young life. And then, as the sound of his exhalation rattled the windows of the waiting room, something remarkable happened as dozens and dozens of patients whose medical needs were not worthy of their attendance in an A&E department decided they would rather not wait any longer and simply left, leaving only those who were truly in need of medical attention.
The medical staff were delighted at the effect of Paddington’s intervention and set about their work with renewed vigour. But even as they did so, Paddington noticed that his efforts hadn’t been sufficient to encourage Mr Curry to leave.
‘Are you aware there’s a bear in your department’ he said to the receptionist before turning towards Paddington and approaching him with such a frown on his face that it was all too apparent that he’d found yet another thing he could complain about.
‘Well I wouldn’t exactly call that benevolent, roaring so loudly and scaring so many needy people away. I’d say it was rather hypocritical coming from bear who is always insisting that we should always be kind. What would your precious Aunt Lucy say about that I wonder!’
Paddington paused a moment to consider his response. ‘I think, Mr Curry, that she’d say that kindness isn’t simply a matter of being nice, that sometimes it’s also about being fair, and that what’s fair isn’t always what everyone wants’. And then Paddington gave another of his hard stares, one that was so hard that even Mr Curry couldn’t help but turn tail and head out of the casualty department and into the cold night air.
Exhausted by his endeavours, Paddington sat down in one of the now numerous empty seats. He watched as all around him the NHS did what it does best, namely providing care that is free at the point of need to those who required it. And he wondered how Aunt Lucy was getting on and whether or not she’d be all right.
Half an hour had passed when Paddington heard a familiar voice. Looking up he saw it was his good friend Mr Gruber, who, he remembered, had taken a job as a hospital porter to supplement his income now that, as a result of the economic downturn, his antique shop was no longer an establishment that made a profit sufficient to live on.
‘Master Brown’, he said ‘I have been twisting my knickers looking for you. Aunt Lucy has been moved to a side room in a ward elsewhere in the hospital. The doctors are saying you can see her now. Follow me’.
Mr Gruber led Paddington down a long empty corridor till they came to the ward where Aunt Lucy had been taken. On the left there was a side room, the door of which Mr Gruber opened and ushered Paddington in. Aunt Lucy was lying in a bed, her breathing less laboured. She appeared to be asleep
‘The doctors, they soon will be here’ said Mr Gruber quietly. ‘When they arrive be careful not to be forgetting your queues and peas’. He smiled at his friend and then slipped out of the room.
Paddington sat down on the chair next to the bed and waited. After a few minutes the door opened and in walked two women both with stethoscopes draped around their necks. The taller of the two approached Paddington and introduced herself.
‘Hello Paddington, my name is…’
‘The same as mine’. The voice was barely audible but unmistakably that of Aunt Lucy. ‘I can see it written on your badge’
‘That’s right’, said the woman, turning to Aunt Lucy. ‘I’m a consultant who specialises in elderly care. And this is a medical student who’s working with me this evening. Her name’s…’
‘Judy’, exclaimed Paddington excitedly, suddenly recognising Mr and Mrs Brown’s daughter who was, he remembered, nearing the end of her medical training. ‘It’s so good to see you!’ He slipped off the chair and gave her a big hug.
The consultant smiled at them as she watched them greet each other. She sat down on the edge of Aunt Lucy’s bed and waited for small bear as he climbed back onto his chair. As he did so, Paddington watched the consultant intently and wondered what it was that she would have to say.
‘How is she Doctor?’ he asked.
‘Well Paddington, I’m afraid your Aunt is very old now. As you know she’s been becoming frailer of late. And now she’s really quite poorly’ The consultant turned to Aunt Lucy and placed her hand on her paw. ‘We’ve done some tests, an X-ray and some scans, and we’ve found that there is a growth on her lungs. The kind of growth that is going to get bigger, the kind of growth that we can’t do a great deal about’. The consultant paused a moment, allowing Paddington to take in the enormity of her words. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’ she asked gently.
‘Are you saying, she’s got…’ Paddington paused, not wanting to add the word he knew he must. ‘Cancer?’
‘I’m afraid I do’
All was quiet for a few moments. Nobody spoke. Eventually Aunt Lucy broke the silence.
‘It’s all right Paddington’, she whispered. ‘It’s all right. It’s my time’.
Paddington slipped back down from his chair and climbed up onto Aunt Lucy bed and kissed her, a solitary tear rolling down his cheek. He looked back at the consultant.
‘Is there nothing you can do?’ he asked quietly.
‘Oh yes, there’s a lot we can do…but we can’t cure her.’
Again the consultant paused and Paddington looked down at Aunty Lucy again
‘We can’t cure her Paddington, but we can care for her’
Paddington looked up again as another tear began it’s long journey down his cheek and along his nose before falling silently to the floor. He wasn’t sure what to say.
The consultant turned again to her patient. ‘What’s important to you Aunt Lucy’ she asked.
‘Being with Paddington’, Lucy replied, taking her nephew’s paw in hers as she did so. ‘And marmalade of course!’ she added, managing a slight chuckle.
The consultant smiled again. ‘Would you like to go home?’
‘I rather think I would. You’ve been very kind, but I’m not sure I like being in a hospital.’
‘Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll get everything organised for you to go home where you’ll be more comfortable. We’ll speak to Dr Mungo and make sure everything is properly in place. I’m sure that he and the district nurses will be able to provide all the support you’ll need’.
The consultant stood up and checking that nobody had anything else they wanted to ask made to leave. At the door she turned and asked Paddington whether perhaps she could ask him a question.
‘Of course!’, he replied
‘That time you met the Queen – did she really have a sandwich in her handbag?’
Paddington smiled. ‘Oh yes!’ he said earnestly. ‘And she used to make her own marmalade too. I’m sure that is the reason she lived to such a ripe old age. Is that a possibility?’
‘Well,’ replied the consultant, ‘I couldn’t say for sure, but I understand that marmalade is a good source of vitamins and minerals so it certainly won’t have done her any harm. Perhaps I should start carrying a marmalade sandwich in my medical bag – just in case of emergencies!’
And with that the consultant left the room, indicating to Judy as she did so that she should stay with Paddington and Aunt Lucy.
For a while none of them said anything, choosing instead to hold each other and share the preciousness of those few moments in each another’s company
‘Judy’ began Paddington eventually, ‘the consultant you’re working with, she is a good doctor isn’t she?’
‘Oh yes Paddington. She’s one of the very best. Like your Aunty Lucy she is very wise and exceptionally kind. She always knows what’s best – sometimes I think she must know everything that there is to know.’
‘Perhaps she should write a book’
‘Perhaps she already has!‘
Paddington’s eyes widened.
‘That’s right Paddington. And a very good book it is too. In fact it’s thebook about getting older. You should read it one day!’
‘Perhaps I will’ said Paddington, ‘but first I think we should ring your parents. They’ll be wondering where I am. It’ll soon be Christmas Day and I wouldn’t want them to worry about me! And besides, I have a question I need to ask them’, he added, looking at his dear Aunt Lucy. ‘Would they please look after this bear!’
*****
Far, far away, yet somewhere unimaginably close, Dr Ebenezer Scrooge is walking across beautifully green fields. Alongside him is Mrs Gray, his former patient, who had died only a year or two before the former GP. They are laughing together
Up ahead is a wood – a vast unexplored wilderness. There they meet a bear whose name is Pastuzo. He tells them how a new room has been built on the tree house where he lives and that recently a huge preserving pan has been delivered full to overflowing with perfectly ripe Seville oranges. He says that it’s almost as though a place is being prepared for a new arrival with everything that they could ever possibly want being made ready for them.
Pastuzo wonders who it might be. He says he thinks he knows. And now he can barely contain his delight.
THE END
‘Paddington and the Ailing Elderly Rekative’ serves to complete both ‘The Scrooge Chronicles’ and ‘The Dr Mungo Chronicles’, the latter being made up of ‘Mr Benn – the GP’, ‘A GP called Paddington’ and ‘Scooby Doo and the Deserted Medical Centre’. Links to all these stories can be found below together with a review of ‘The Book About Getting Older’ written by Dr Lucy Pollock. You’ll also find links to a number of other GP related tales and some attempts at Christmas Comic Verse.
The Lord God said to the serpent…”I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring[e] and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.”
Genesis 3:15
Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel
Isaiah 7:14
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6
In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration before Quirinius was governor of Syria. And all went to be registered, each to his own town. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,
“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”
When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.” And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. And when they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child. And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them
Luke 2:1-20
Christ Jesus…though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.
Philippians 2:5-8
And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And some of the bystanders hearing it said, “Behold, he is calling Elijah.” And someone ran and filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a reed and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.” And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”
Mark 15:33-39
Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.
Isaiah 53:4-6
For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
2 Corinthians 5:21
God raised him up, loosing the pangs of death, because it was not possible for him to be held by it.
Acts 2:24
Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
Philippians 2:9-11
For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have fallen asleep.
1 Corinthians 15:3-6
For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 6:23
All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.
2 Corinthians 5:18-20
For “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”
Romans 10:13
And you, who were dead in your trespasses …God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross.
Colossians 2:13-14
There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
Romans 8:1
For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:38-39
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.
Revelation 21:1-4
He who testifies to these things says, “Surely I am coming soon.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!.
Revelation 22:20
*****
Joy to the world, the Lord is come Let Earth receive her King Let every heart prepare Him room And Heaven and nature sing And Heaven and nature sing And Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing
Joy to the Earth, the Savior reigns Let all their songs employ While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains Repeat the sounding joy Repeat the sounding joy Repeat, repeat the sounding joy
He rules the world with truth and grace And makes the nations prove The glories of His righteousness And wonders of His love (and wonders of His love) And wonders of His love (and wonders of His love) And wonders, wonders of His love
Previously from ‘A Christmas Countdown’:
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 24’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 23’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 22’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 21’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 20’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 19’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 18’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 17’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 16’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 15, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 14’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 13’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 12’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 11’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 10’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 9’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 8’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 7’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 6’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 5’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 4’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 3’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 2’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 1’, click here
To read ‘An Advent Calendar – Complete’, click here
Even at Christmas, not everyone in my family is a believer. Sadly my wife can’t see what is all too plain to me and if I ever try to speak to her about the wonder of it all she is want to roll her eyes or try and change the topic of conversation. And when it comes to my wanting to listen to his music then I will generally have to wait till I’m all alone in the house or out by myself in the car.
As well as being the day we start opening Advent calendars and making use of Christmas mugs, December 1st is also the day that we in the Aird residence dig out our Christmas CDs and begin to listen to them as part of the run up to December 25th. But, because of the aforementioned aversion to all things Dylanesque, one CD that is rarely played within earshot of the lady of the household is Bob’s 2009 album ‘Christmas in the Heart’.
Admittedly my wife is not this modern day troupadour’s only critic. One reviewer of his aforementioned compilation of festive classics suggested that Latin had never sounded more dead than when that ancient language was employed by Dylan to sing ‘Adeste Fideles’ – that’s ’O Come All Ye Faithful’ for those of you who, like me, had a classical education that was somewhat lacking!
Even so the words of this classic Christmas Carol are worth considering:
‘God of God, Light of Light Lo, he abhors not the Virgin’s womb Very God, begotten not created’
They are borrowed from the Nicene Creed of the fourth century which sought to make plain that the child who was born of Mary was, in very essence, God himself, something that John, an eyewitness of the life of Jesus, conveyed in the first chapter of his gospel when he wrote:
‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.…And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.’ [John 1:1-3,14]
This is what is meant by the incarnation – that God became a man in the person of Jesus Christ. And this is what we celebrate at Christmas.
*****
So with that said I’ll leave you with a track from ‘Christmas in the Heart’ that I’m proud to say that even my children consider a Yuletide classic – well at least one of them does. There may be better songs about the man ‘who’s got a big red cherry nose’ and ‘laughs this way, ‘Ho, ho, ho’’ – but if there is, I’ve never heard it!
It’s not for nothing that Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2016!*
*It should be noted that ‘Must be Santa’ is not originally by Bob Dylan – but then there are those who say that neither was his Nobel Prize acceptance speech!
DAY 2
A WALK IN THE SNOW
WARNING: THIS ENTRY MAY NEVER ALLOW YOU TO THINK THE SAME WAY ABOUT A MUCH LOVED POEM.
My favourite Advent hymn is ‘O Come, O Come, Emmanuel’. For many years, it was hearing its first verse being beautifully sung as a solo at the start of the school carol service that marked for me the beginning of Christmas. ‘Emmanuel’ is a big Bible word. It is one of the names that we are told in scripture will be given to Jesus. [Isaiah 7:7]. It means ‘God with us’ and it confirms that we really are right to think of Jesus as, not only fully man, but also fully God.
The idea that God is with us is one that is repeated throughout the Bible. Back in the first book of the Old Testament we read in Genesis 5:22 how Enoch walked with God, the psalmist speaks of how the the Lord of hosts is with his people, [Psalm 46:7] and in the closing chapters of the last book of the New Testament we read how God will dwell with his people even as he himself will be with them as their God. [Revelation 21:3]
Little wonder then that this deeply comforting thought has inspired some to put pen to paper. Whilst there are a number of versions of the much loved poem ‘Footsteps’, this is the one that I find most affecting.
One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the LORD. Across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand: one belonging to him, and the other to the LORD.
When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of his life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life.
This bothered the man and so he questioned the LORD about it: “LORD, you said that once I decided to follow you, you’d walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don’t understand why when I needed you most you would leave me.”
The LORD replied: “My son, my precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that we hopped!
OK, I admit that the original version seeks to be more uplifting and ends with Jesus explaining to the man that it was in the difficult times of his life that he was being carried, but I prefer the above version by comedian, and Christian, Tim Vine. Not only does it make me laugh but it also stops me from thinking that there is ever a time when I, prone to stumble as I am, don’t need to be carried. Personally I find it more comforting to read Deuteronomy 33:27 where I find the reassurance that ‘The eternal God is [my] dwelling place and underneath [me] are [his] everlasting arms’.
Because life can sometimes be hard and when it is, it can often be difficult to know which way to turn – it can be easy to feel lost.
Some years ago, whilst out on a walk, one of my children announced that they were lost. This was on account of said child not having a clue as to where they were. But the individual in question was wrong – they weren’t lost, because the one who held their hand, [me], knew exactly where they were.
I knew the way home.
Perhaps you’re struggling at the moment, perhaps you can’t see a way through all that’s going on this Christmas time. But be assured – you’re not lost if you’re being held by the one who knows exactly where you are and who, even in the most difficult of circumstances, knows the way home.
And that ‘one’ is Emmanuel, the God who is with us, the one who knows ‘the end from the beginning’ [Isaiah 46:10]. Why not take his hand and discover that he already holds you – tighter than you could ever possibly imagine?
*****
I’ll end today with a particularly fine rendition of a traditional version of ‘O Come, O Come Emmanuel’ sung here by The St.Michael’s Singers, conducted by Paul Leddington Wright. As all good waiters/waitresses say, ‘Enjoy’!
DAY 3
PUNCTILIOUS PUNCTUATION
As any punctuation pedant will know, the presence, or otherwise, of a comma is every bit as important as where it’s placed.
Let me explain. When my children were younger we had a pet guinea pig called Chestnut, as a result of which I was liable to upset my offspring whenever I sang along to ‘The Christmas Song’. This was not, as you might have expected, because of my inability to carry a tune but rather because, by dint of them having added a non-existent apostrophe, they were left imagining that their much loved pet was now roasting on an open fire!
A similar issue arises with one of my favourite carols, but before I tell you which one, let’s be honest about Christmas. For some it is not a happy time and for many the forced jollity is unwelcome. Let’s face it, when life is characterised by sorrow and despair few of us are up for a party, regardless of how many amusing Christmas jumpers are on display.
And because not everyone is ‘simply having a wonderful Christmas time’, I have heard it suggested that we should no longer wish others a ‘Merry Christmas’ as to do so risks being insensitive to those who are experiencing difficult times. But to suggest as much is to misunderstand Christmas, to consider it nothing more than an excuse for overindulgence as we try to deny the vicissitudes of life
Which brings me to that much favoured carol of mine that I referred to earlier – namely ‘God rest ye merry, gentleman’. Note the position of the comma.
For many years I misunderstood this Christmas classic imagining that the words were expressing the hope that God would give a bunch of already merry gentlemen a well earned rest! But this is not the point at all – as the position of the comma makes clear. What is being hoped for is that God would cause these souls, of undisclosed happiness, to be rendered merry.
And the reason that they should be left in such a state of merriment, the reason that, as the carol goes on, nothing should cause them to dismay, is that ‘Jesus Christ our Saviour was born on Christmas Day’. But why was he born? Well, as the carol goes on to tell us, the answer to that one is ‘to save us all from Satan’s power when we had gone astray’.
This is news worth hearing for it is very good news indeed – tidings, no less, of comfort and joy,
This is not to suggest that those who suffer do not do so significantly – on the contrary, their suffering may be severe and, what’s more, continue for longer than they feel they can cope with. Even so this good news, this gospel, has the potential to comfort those who have to face even the darkest of days for it brings with it the certain hope that better days really are on the way. For ‘weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.’ [Psalm 30:5].
So then, irrespective of your current circumstances, may I wish you all a very Merry Christmas.
*****
Here then for your listening pleasure is one my favourite versions of ‘God rest ye merry, gentleman’, sung on this occasion by ‘Jars of Clay’.
DAY 4
CHRISTMAS STOCKINGS WAITING TO BE FILLED
A fanfare please, for the worlds greatest Christmas one liner…
‘For Christmas this year I’ve bought my wife a wooden leg. Don’t worry though, it’s not her main present, it’s just a stocking filler!’
I don’t know about you but there are only a few ‘main’ presents that I can still remember receiving as a child. There was the gerbil (obviously), the Wings LP, ‘Venus and Mars, (don’t ask) and a game called Logacta which was a football game played with dice designed for people who had no friends! But despite my desperately wanting each and every one of them at the time, none of them seem very important to me now. Curiously though, the gift that was very much a part of every childhood Christmas, but at the time did not interest me that much, grows ever more precious to me as I get older.
It’s great to get presents and I still hold out some hope that this year I might finally be the happy recipient of the Scalextrix Set or Scooby Doo Shaker Maker kit that I never had as a child, but none of these will be the main present that will be offered me again this December 25th. In fact, were I to receive either of the aforementioned items, they would, whilst welcome, be nothing more than Christmas Day fillers and quite possibly a distraction from the greatest gift of all. And so, if I am to be disappointed once more by the absence of these items from under the tree on Christmas Day morning, I will nonetheless be more than content with the good news of God’s inexpressible gift [2 Corinthians 9:15] – namely the birth of the Saviour, Jesus Christ.
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from God above. [James 1:17]. And most wonderfully of all, because of his great love for the world, God gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life’ [John 3:16] ‘For [though] the wages of sin is death…the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. [Romans 6:23].
And to my mind, main presents don’t any get better than that.
*****
In recent years Michael Bublé has been a regular part of our Christmas – so much so that our old dog Barney was once inspired by him to sing his own version of ‘Santa Baby’. I wouldn’t recommend it, but if you search hard enough you may find a video of his performance in the darker recesses of the internet. If I were you though I’d content yourself with this photograph of him in his Christmas garb…
… and stick with Michael Bublé’s significantly superior version. In it he lists all the things he’s hoping Father Christmas will bring him this year. But, I ask you, should anyone really refer to Santa Claus as ‘Dude’?
No, I didn’t think so either!
DAY 5
A BONE OF CONTENTION
In recent years our family has played a game in the weeks running up to Christmas in which the winner is the last person to hear the song ‘The fairytale of New York’. Thanks to a poorly timed visit to the Exeter branch of ‘White Stuff’ on November 28th I’ve already been eliminated and can only hope to do better in a similar game, one which, since I play it by myself I always win. This version of the game is won when one hears something that is commonly heard at this time of year, :
‘Christmas – of course it’s really just a time for the children’
Every time I hear these words, like an enthusiastic member of a pantomime audience, I want to slap my thigh and scream, ‘Oh no it’s not!’ The reason why I am tempted be so vociferous is simply this – that though Christmas is, of course, for the children, those who say as such invariably are implying it’s not for older folk like me and, perhaps, you.
But it is!
Because the angel who announced the news of Jesus birth to the shepherds was very clear. ‘Fear not,’ he said ‘for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for ALL the people.’
So whilst you may be looked at a little oddly if, in your late 50’s, you queue up at your local garden centre to visit Santa in his grotto (trust me on this one, you will), nobody is EVER too old for Christmas.
And that includes you!
*****
Today’s song is, inevitably, ‘A Fairytale of New York’ by The Pogues and featuring Shane MacGowan and Kirsty Kirsty MacColl, both sadly now dead. Anyone playing the game that our family does probably shouldn’t click to hear this Christmas classic!
DAY 6
BASIL BRUSH – wait for it, wait for it
Back when I did my O’Levels, exam questions often began with a request that the candidate compared and contrasted one thing with another. To the examiners, it seemed, to do so had some merit and I suppose they were probably right as by analysing, for example, differing responses to seemingly similar events we may be helped to see the important ways those two events differed.
So let me give you an example. Not so long ago, when I was still a frontline healthcare worker, I had a Covid booster. But it wasn’t just me who was jabbed that morning. Hector, my recently acquired Black Labrador puppy, was due a vaccination too.
But whereas the vet plied her patient with tasty liver paste and various other canine treats, all I got from the person sticking a needle in me was her tacit acknowledgment that I didn’t yet look 65, something which, given that I’m still a good few years off that particular landmark, I considered was obvious and not something that required her to comment upon.
I wondered why a dog should be shown such favouritism but, sure enough, comparing and contrasting the way in which Hector and I were treated, highlighted differences between us which might not otherwise have been obvious. One of us you see, was handsome, cute and simply adorable…and the other was a Black Labrador puppy!
Boom, boom! (Thank you, Basil!)
But there is another, more interesting, comparison to be made between the two individuals who, in Luke Chapter 1, are told by God’s angel that they are going to have a child in unlikely circumstances.
The first is Zechariah. He is the man who is told by an angel that his elderly, and seemingly barren wife, will have a son, who will one day come to be known as John the Baptist. After receiving the news, Zechariah asks the angel how he can know that this will actually happen – and is rendered mute as a result of his lack of faith.
The second individual is Mary. She is a young woman who, despite being a virgin, is told she will have a son, Jesus. On hearing this she not unreasonably responds by asking how this will come about but, in sharp contrast to how Zechariah was treated, far from being reprimanded, she is commended for her faith.
So what is so different in the way they responded to the news of imminent parenthood? Well I think it’s this. Whilst Zechariah isn’t convinced that what he has been told will actually come about and seeks further confirmation that the word spoken by the angel is trustworthy, Mary, despite finding it difficult to comprehend how her pregnancy will come about, none the less believes what the angel tells her is true.
Whereas Zechariah doesn’t believe the authoritative word spoken to him by God’s messenger, Mary does believe what the self same angel tells her. Zechariah lacks what Mary doesn’t – faith. Sure she has questions but as has been suggested, Mary’s is a faith in search of understanding.
And I suppose there is a lesson in all this for us too. If God says something we can be sure that it is true, irrespective of how much we might not want it to be. We might be confused by it and appropriately seek help to understand it better, but we should never question what God declares to be the truth.
Because it is God, not us, who determines what is true and false – just as it is he determines who determines what is right and wrong. And so the truth is the truth irrespective of what we might think. Zechariah discovered that. He may have doubted what God said was true but reality didn’t change as a result and Elizabeth had her baby son whilst he looked on speechless.
Zechariah learnt the hard way but we, on hearing God speak will, if we are wise, humbly believe what we are told. And then say, as Mary said:
‘Behold I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.’ [Luke 1:38]
We would do well to remember it…well
*****
Which is a particularly clumsy segue into today’s song which isn’t remotely Christmasy but is instead one from none other than Basil Brush himself – in his original 1970’s incarnation. Here he is duetting with Petula Clark.
DAY 7
AN OPEN SECRET
Nobody should imagine that I consider myself even remotely similar to God, but I do sometimes wonder if I share, just a a tiny bit in one minuscule aspect of his character. Let me explain.
Long ago, when we were first married, my wife and I lived in Bristol. In those days Kaye was working as a teacher and so it eventually came to pass that I had a week off during term time and I was therefore home alone. Being the deeply romantic individual that I am (stop sniggering at the back!), I thought I’d try and do something to surprise her and so, on the Wednesday of my week’s holiday, I decided to see if I could book tickets for us to go and see ‘Les Miserables’ in London the following Saturday night.
So I bought a newspaper – no internet back then – and found in the London Theatre Guide the phone number for the theatre where the show was being performed. I made the call and amazingly, despite it being the most popular show in the West End, and my asking for the most popular performance of the week, I managed to get tickets – for, if memory serves me right, the unbelievably cheap price of just £5.50 each! (Don’t worry, I may have treated her to an ice cream in the interval as well !)
Anyway, my plan was that I’d keep it a secret from Kaye, telling her only that we were going out on Saturday but not telling her where it was we were going. Well I couldn’t do it! Within minutes of her returning home I was dropping hints of what we would be doing and, so excited was I that, by the time we went to bed that night, I’d completely spilled the beans.
Do you know in some ways I think God is the same. For having planned his great salvation he too was unable to keep it a secret. Indeed, just moments after the fall of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, and thousands of years before Jesus was actually born, God promised that somebody would one day come, one who would be ‘the offspring of a woman’ and would ‘crush the head’ of Satan even as he himself had his heel bruised. [Genesis 3:15]
And then we read in the New Testament that ‘when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman’ [Galatians 4:4]
All through the Old Testament God keeps spilling the beans about the saviour who would one day come. He speaks of how he’d be a descendent of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, a member of the tribe of Judah and an heir to the throne of David. Then, still hundreds of years before Jesus’ birth he tells us, in the book of Micah, that the child would be born in Bethlehem [Micah 5:2] and, in the book of Isaiah, that he would be born of a virgin. [Isaiah 7:14]
These predictions, made hundreds of years before Jesus’s birth, were fulfilled. Each and every promise that God made was kept – which is no surprise at all because God always keep his promises.
And not only did he keep the promises he made relating to Jesus’ birth, he also kept the promises he made relating to Jesus’ death – amongst many others, that he would suffer and die for the sake of others [Isaiah 53:4-5], that he would be buried in a rich man’s tomb [Isaiah 53:9] and that he would subsequently be raised from the dead [Psalm 16:10].
And so it is little wonder that the apostle Paul, writing to the church in Corinth said:
‘For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures’[1 Corinthians 15:3-4]
But God’s promises don’t end there. He has made many more and he will keep the promises that he has made concerning the future as surely as he has kept the promises related to things already past. And these include promises that assure us that everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved [Romans 10:13] and that a day is coming when all our tears will be washed away and death will be no more. [Revelation 21:4]
Like my surprise trip to London, this is another ‘secret’ that I am just too excited about to keep myself – and that’s why I’m spilling the beans here!
Take my word for it – these are promises worth believing.
So what song should I choose to close with? Well the one I’ve opted for is not a Christmas song, but it is a cracker, so it will just have to do. And in a funny kind of a way it’s sort of appropriate too since it concerns somebody who is unable to keep quiet about the love they have for another. The only thing is that God doesn’t ask you to promise not tell others of his love for you, rather he asks that you spread the ‘secret’ of his love… to the very ends of the earth.
I told you he can’t keep a secret!
*****
Over then to The Beatles, singing here ‘Do you want to know a secret’.
DAY 8
A MAGNIFICENT DOG
I know what you’re thinking, ‘What has a magnificent dog got to do with Christmas?’. Well I’ll tell you. Not a lot. It’s true that a magnificent cat would have been a marginally more appropriate illustration to head up a few words on ‘The Magnificat’ but, as well as being something of a dog person, a picture of a regal looking canine is, for reasons that may be well known to you, a lot easier for me to lay my hands on. And yes I know that I’m pushing things a bit here but we are now on Day 8 of this advent calendar malarkey and if you think that by the time we’re done things won’t have taken a precipitous downturn then I’m afraid that you’re going to find that you are sorely mistaken.
But I digress. ‘The Magnificat’ is the name given to the song that Mary sang after being told that she would be the mother of the Son of God. It begins with the words ‘My soul does magnify the Lord’ and takes its name from the word for ‘magnifies’ with which the Latin translation begins.
But for those of you who haven’t been distracted by a little Latin and haven’t forgiven me yet for my crass inclusion of a picture of Hector, here is where I try to redeem myself, something which, ironically, a Christian should never attempt to do! But here’s the thing – just as a magnificent dog is not what you’d expect to see at the beginning of a discussion about ‘The Magnificat’, so too the words of Mary’s song are not the ones that we might expect to read, coming as we do from a culture that is so in love with itself.
As a result, therefore, Mary’s song is one that ought to reverse our expectations. We live in a world where the strong lord it over the weak, the rich oppress the pour and we, having been told to always think of ourselves as awesome, are encouraged then to spend our days going about the exhausting business of boasting about our own achievements.
And yet Mary sings of the one who has saved her, the one who scatters the proud, who brings down the mighty, and who sends the rich empty away, and the one who, as he does so, simultaneously raises up the humble and fills the hungry with good things [Luke 1:51-53].
Isn’t that the kind of world in which you would want to live – one in which the arrogant are brought low and the humble are lifted up? Well if it is, know this – it’s the kind of world that God wants too. For
‘God opposes the proud and gives grace to the humble’ [James 4:6)
And so he is prepared to humble, not just the proud, but the only one who truly is awesome – that is, himself. And he does this, not only by becoming, in the person of Jesus Christ, a man and then living a life of poverty, but also by subsequently going to the cross, and dying there the most appalling of deaths. And he did all this to ensure that those who acknowledge their weakness, those who recognise their need of rescue, far from being dismissed as an irrelevance, can know the love of the eternal and almighty God who will not only one day raise them back to life but also adopt them into his own family and number them among his own dearly beloved children.
No wonder Mary want’s to magnify the Lord. But note this – she doesn’t magnify him the way a microscope magnifies something, making something very small look bigger than it really is. Not at all. Mary magnifies the Lord in a way a telescope magnifies something, making something that’s really very big look more like the size it really is.
God is big – but to some people he doesn’t appear to be all that important. But if we turn our eyes away from ourselves for a moment and fix them instead on Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, the one who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross – and then, not only will we not grow weary or fainthearted but we will find that God really is every bit as big as we need him to be. [Hebrews 12:2-3]
And perhaps we will find ourselves magnifying the Lord as well
*****
Finally then, a song. Or rather two. First it’s ’Tell out my soul, the greatness of the Lord. This hymn, one we had at our wedding, isn’t really a Christmas song – but perhaps it should be, given how it is based on ‘The Magnificat’.
And then as a special treat, a second bonus song. Why? Because it’s a song about a magnificent dog of course!. Not only that it’s one my grandson likes it too!
DAY 9
BREAD
Bread – not something you generally think of being associated with Christmas but, as I hope to prove (did you see what I did there?), there is a link – and quite an important one at that.
All of us have things which we would find hard to do without. Take me for example – I have something of a reputation for being partial to a custard cream, if called upon to gather together a small collection of discs prior to being castaway on a desert, I would almost certainly include a couple of Bob Dylan tracts, and I have been seen to twitch uncontrollably if Somerset are playing cricket and I’m not aware of the score.
My wife however, prefers her biscuits to have a fruity component, would undoubtedly sail on by any, and I mean any, marooned seafarer who was consoling himself by playing ‘It’s All Over Now Baby Blue’ and, despite her predilection for such a twice baked comestible, she couldn’t give a flying fig roll whether or not Tom Kohler-Cadmore’s strike rate is higher or lower than that of Will Smeed or Tom Banton.
Clearly then, she still has a lot to learn.
But though we have differing preferences on non essentials, there are some things that we both have real need. Take bread for example…
‘Well you’ve finally got round to talking about bread – well done you. But it’s taken you long enough – and you’ve not yet made a case as to why this staple of the British diet has anything to do with Christmas’.
You make a fair point
‘Thank you – you’re very kind’
You’re welcome – but here’s the thing.
Whereas most people will know that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, and many will be aware that his birthplace was predicted by the Old Testament prophet Micah 700 years before the event [Micah 5:2], far fewer will be aware that Bethlehem means ‘House of Bread’ – which is when you come to think of it, interesting given how Jesus once said that he was the ‘Bread of Life’. [John 6:35]
More interesting still though is the fact that Jesus made this claim the day after he fed 5000 men, plus a corresponding number of women and children, with two barley loves and a couple of fish, an episode which parallels what God the Father did in Old Testament times when, on route to the promised land, he provided his people in the wilderness with the curious food known as ‘manna’ [Exodus 16] By performing an act similar to that previously carried out by God, Jesus was, by association, making plain that he is, not only the Bread of Heaven, but God himself.
But that’s not the end of it. Jesus went on to say ‘I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.’
Which sounds a little weird until you realise just what Jesus is saying – specifically that, by benefiting from his being consumed by death, we can receive eternal life.
No wonder then that the Welsh sing so heartily that fine old hymn ‘Guide me, O my great Redeemer’.
Guide me O thou great redeemer, pilgrim through this barren land; I am weak, but thou art mighty; hold me with thy powerful hand. Bread of heaven, bread of heaven, Feed me now and evermore, Feed me now and evermore.
*****
Which brings us to today’s song. No surprises as to what it is. Why not click below and sing along?! It is allowed – even if you’re not Welsh!
DAY 10
THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM
Can we talk about the elephant in the room? I only ask because my wife refuses to discuss the subject, seemingly perfectly at ease with the fact that one of the world’s largest land mammals has taken up residence in our lounge. I wouldn’t mind, but Nelly, (not, I’d have thought, the most imaginative name that she could have come up with), is someone she claims offers more stimulating conversation than I do, takes up less room on the sofa and, can you believe it, has kind eyes!
But leaving all that aside, the idea of the virgin birth is something that some people would rather wasn’t mentioned, so much so that there are those, even within the church, who claim that it never really happened. But it seems to me that the reason some people don’t believe some things is simply because they’ve never heard of those things happening before. But to say something can’t happen simply because they haven’t previously is intellectually dishonest and is no different from saying that God doesn’t exist merely because you don’t believe he does.
Furthermore some people seem to find the wrong things hard to believe. Take the resurrection for example. Whilst I understand why some people might find it hard to accept that Jesus was raised from the dead, it is the fact that he died in the first place that should really cause us to be astonished. The Bible tells us that, ‘the wages of sin is death’ [Romans 6:23] and so, since Jesus was sinless, his death is genuinely shocking.
And so we have to conclude that it was as a consequence of the sins of others that he suffered. Which it was – for it was for the sin of those he came to save that held him to the cross that day, dying as he did in their place, taking the punishment they deserved. But having died, being without sin himself, it was always going to be impossible for death to hold on to him. [Acts 2:24]
Far then from being unbelievable, Jesus being raised from the dead was nothing other than inevitable.
Now some of you might be thinking that I’m drifting away from the subject at hand. But really I’m not. And the reason I say this is because it was absolutely necessary for the virgin birth to have taken place if Jesus was to have been truly sinless – just as it was absolutely necessary for Jesus to have been truly sinless, if he was to come back from the dead.
Because, you see, if Jesus had been the biological son of Joseph, if he had been just another human being, all be it a particularly good one, he would have been tarnished with the same sin that we all are, the sin that we were all born with on account of Adam’s fall in the Garden of Eden.
Make no mistake though, Jesus was, by virtue of his being born to Mary, fully man and so was a fitting representative to die in the place of those who trust him for salvation. But equally, conceived as he was by the Holy Spirit, Jesus was fully God and so was utterly sinless, making his death the perfect sacrifice that was necessary to pay the price for the sins he bore for others.
Jesus – 100% God, 100% man – a beautiful, mysterious, paradox.
Which is, of course, all very well but is it true. Because my believing something to have happened, no more means it did than somebody not believing something happened, means it didn’t. Even so, you have to admit that, though a virgin birth is not a common occurrence if, like someone coming back from the dead, it were to happen, even just the once, it would change absolutely everything.
And so the question remains, was Mary really a virgin when she gave birth to Jesus?
So let me be clear. Whilst my talk of oversized members of the order Proboscidea settling down to an evening of stimulating debate with my wife is not, for one moment, something I seriously consider to have ever taken place, I do wholeheartedly believe in the virgin birth. And if you were to ask me why I believe something that, not having been there at the time, I can’t possibly know for sure, I would tell you that it is by faith that I believe.
‘Ah’, you say, ‘that just a cop out’. But mine is not a faith that is blind like that of the White Queen in ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ – a faith that enabled her to believe in ‘as many as six impossible things before breakfast’. On the contrary, my faith is, as defined by the Oxford English Dictionary, a belief based on evidence, testimony or authority. As is the case with many things that we all believe, my belief in the virgin birth, far from being wishful thinking, is in fact, an entirely rational belief, based, like the resurrection, on the compelling eye witness testimony of those who were there at the time.
That and the authoritative word of the one who spoke the universe into existence – the one for whom all things are possible [Matthew 19:26], and the one who, ‘knowing the end from the beginning’ actually predicted the virgin birth 700 year before the event.
‘Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.’[Isaiah 7:14]
Luke, the author of the gospel in which we are told of the virgin birth was a doctor and is, therefore, not somebody you would expect to believe something without good reason. And yet, having looked closely into these matters, having gathered information from those who were there at the time, Luke was clearly persuaded by all that he had been told.
And so he wrote his gospel – so that we who read it may have certainly concerning these things. [Luke 1:4]
That’s why I’m convinced, the question is, are you?
*****
I appreciate it’s been a bit of a heavy one today – but not as heavy as the one who, kind eyes or not, has completely wrecked our living room furniture! Even so, I promise you all something much lighter tomorrow.
But now, today’s song – ‘Mary Did You Know?’, performed here by One Voice Children’s Choir.
DAY 11
THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS OF OXFORD STREET
At home, strategically positioned in front of our recently condemned gas fire, stands a candle – one that proves the lie that you can’t go wrong by buying your nearest and dearest such a gift as a Valentine’s present. Because nearly ten months on it has remained untouched and it is only in the last week, with the nights well and truly now drawing in, that have we finally bothered to light it.
But when we did, the darkness in our living room immediately shrank back from around it’s flickering flame and I was reminded once more of how differently light and darkness behave.
Because whilst darkness is dispelled by the switching on of a light, the opposite is not true – light isn’t dispelled by the switching on of the dark. The darkness may surround the light, but the light is never snuffed out.
Light then always triumphs over darkness. Which is nothing short of what we should expect for this is exactly what we are told in the opening verses of John’s gospel, verses that traditionally make up the final reading in a service of nine lessons and carols.
‘The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.’ [John 1:5]
This is comforting to know. And what is also comforting to know is that something very similar could be said for love and hate. No matter how intense the hatred, love always triumphs over it. Though it is true that hatred may not simply flee from love in the way that darkness flees from light, and though hate may actually intensify its efforts in the face of love’s persistence, it is none the less true that, come what may, love will always win.
Because love never dies.
Except perhaps that one time – when the light went out.
Jesus said that he was the light of the world, [John 8:12] and at Christmas that light, ‘the true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world’ [John 1:9]
But despite ‘Jesus [coming] to his own…his own people did not receive him. [John 1:11]
And so, on Good Friday, mankind rejected the one who had come to save them. But Jesus continued to love those who hated him – even as they hammered the nails into his hands and feet. ‘Father, forgive them,’ he prayed ‘for they know not what they do.’ [Luke 23:34]
When Jesus died the light went out – and ‘there was darkness over all the land’. [Matthew 27:45]
But not for long. Because love didn’t stay dead. Three days later, the light came back on when Jesus rose from the grave.
And so, no matter how dark it might currently be for some, we can all be sure that there will be brighter days ahead. Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning’ [Psalm 30:5]
Because the light will never go out again.
*****
Only one possible option for today’s song – Coldplay and ‘Christmas Lights’
‘Those Christmas lights Light up the street Down where the sea and city meet May all your troubles soon be gone Oh, Christmas lights keep shining on’
DAY 12
FATHER CHRISTMAS
Today is December 12th which by my reckoning means that we’ve now reached the halfway point of my Countdown to Christmas. I’m not sure who is most relieved – me or you – but I don’t doubt that in many households the excitement is beginning to build as Christmas draws ever nearer. But when all is said and done, Christmas is for many a huge anticlimax, a deeply unsatisfying time. I wonder why that might be.
For some of us, Christmas is just too busy – there is simply too much that has to be done. Perhaps we long for the Christmases of our childhood, fondly remembered as magical times when we believed in someone who was better and kinder than ourselves, one who insisted on bestowing upon us one kindness after another without, it seemed, us ever having to do anything to deserve it.
Now though, as adults, we have lost sight of any transcendence that Christmas once held and, rather than resting in the generosity of one greater than ourselves, find ourselves burdened with a list of a thousand things we must do if we are to be considered acceptable celebrants of what a consumerist society has now made Christmas.
Wouldn’t it be lovely then if we could experience Christmas, indeed experience life as a whole, as we did when we were little, with a childlike faith that someone other than ourselves would be kind to us in ways we don’t come close to meriting, one who would see to it that everything worked out just fine in the end.
If that sounds appealing to you, if that sounds like heaven, then be encouraged by the words of one wiser than me who once said
‘Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven’ [Matthew 18:3].
Because, you see, you can’t work your way into heaven – rather you are provided with a free pass. Why? Because Jesus, the one who said the words above, has paid the entry fee and, undeserving though we are, seen to it that everything will indeed work out just fine in the end.
We enter the kingdom of heaven by grace, not by works.
Which means to say that Father Christmas, with his insistence that we have to be good to benefit from his generosity, comes a poor second to the God who sent Jesus into the world to save sinners.
Contrary to what many people think, Christians don’t believe that they’ll go to heaven because of their good works – on the contrary, Christians know all too well how far short they fall of God’s perfect standard. Its not arrogance on their part to believe that they are assured a place in heaven, rather it is a humble confidence in the one who not only bore the punishment for their sins but also lived the perfect life that they themselves ought to have done. As such, it is Jesus’ perfect life, credited, as it were, to their account by the God who now treats them as if they’d lived that life themselves, that gives a Christian confidence of a place in heaven.
Put simply, Christians know that Jesus was good for them – and they give God all the glory. Furthermore, Christians know that this Christmas, Jesus could be good for you too.
*****
So to finish, have a listen to Michael Bublé give a particularly fine rendition of ‘Santa Claus is coming to town’. And as you do, take note of the rules laid down by ‘the big fat man with the long white beard’ and ask yourself whether this undoubted festive fun really is what Christmas is all about.
DAY 13
A SHEEP THAT’S BEING WATCHED – THOUGH NOT AT NIGHT
No one can deny that Christianity has a thing about sheep – and the Christmas story is no exception. And I’m not referring here to the all time classic ghost story by Charles Dickens in which Scrooge, the principal character and archetypal grumpy old man, goes about saying ‘Baa Humbug’ all the time.
No I’m talking about the Christmas story in which, soon after Jesus is born, the angel of the Lord appears to a bunch of shepherds, not, as many a schoolboy has suggested, to act as a celestial TV remote to ensure that they watch Clive Myrie and not Tom Bradby read the evening news*, but rather so that he might deliver the day’s headline himself.
And oh what a startling headline it was! Not only was it ‘good news’, something that is itself all too rare these days, but also, unlike most of the numerous electronic notifications I receive each day, it was news that everybody needed to hear.
And it’s news that everybody still needs to hear.
So just imagine for a moment how you’d feel if, having heard an alarming ping from your trouser pocket, you pulled out your phone and saw this displayed across the screen:
‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord’ [Luke 2:10-11]
It isperhaps a little surprising that it was a bunch of shepherds who were the first people to be told the good news since, in those days, shepherds were considered amongst the least important members of society. Don’t forget, the announcement that was being made here was a royal announcement, one that regarded the birth of a King. Because, contrary to what some people think, ‘Christ’ is not Jesus’ surname – rather it is his title and translates as ‘God’s anointed one’. As such, the news that the shepherds were being told was that the long awaited Messiah had been born!
But perhaps it’s not so surprising after all that the shepherds were told first – for two reasons.
Firstly God has a habit of choosing the weak over the strong, the humble over the proud, and the supposedly unimportant over the seemingly significant. What’s more, as the shepherds were soon to find out, God chose a manger and swaddling cloths over a king sized crib and regal robes.
That’s the kind of God he is – one who comes to us, not with a show of power, but with a show of humility.
And the second possible reason why the announcement was first made to the shepherds is this – who better than shepherds to first hear the news of the birth of a lamb?
For that’s what Jesus was, ‘the Lamb of God’ who would one day take away the sins of the world. For this was the job for which he was born. And it’s a job that he would one day achieve by dying on a cross – yet another apparent act of weakness which was, in reality, quite the opposite, For it was the means by which God brought about a very great salvation.
A salvation that none of us should neglect.
*****
Jesus being the Lamb of God refers most specifically to the Jewish Passover and the last of the ten plagues that God used to force Pharaoh to let his enslaved people go. That plague saw the first born son of every Egyptian household die save for those in homes where a lamb had been killed, its blood being spread on the doorframes of the house as a sign to the Angel of Death that is should ‘pass over’ that particular dwelling place.
As such the lamb acted as a substitute for the one who would otherwise have died, a sacrifice prefiguring that which Jesus would later offer by dying on a cross.
But there is an even earlier example of a lamb acting as a substitute for one who would otherwise have died. That story can be found in Genesis 22 and, despite it having taken place thousands of years before Jesus’ birth, parallels remarkably with Jesus’ own death. If you’re interested you can read more about it by clicking here.
We’re going high brow for our music selection today – because you can’t go through Christmas without hearing at least a little bit of Handel’s Messiah.
* If you have no idea what I’m talking about here, and I accept that that is a distinct possibility, then just be thankful that you have a more refined sense of humour than I did because, growing up in a rural market town in the 1970s, I found the following couplet amusing!
‘While shepherds watched their flocks by night all watching ITV, The angel of the Lord came down and switched to BBC’
DAY 14
A SNOW ANGEL
How much do you know about angels? Not much? Me neither! But then I suspect that neither of us have ever had the pleasure of meeting one ourselves. Or maybe we have – since the Bible tells us that ‘some, by showing hospitality to strangers, have entertained angels unawares’. [Hebrews 13:2]
Be that as it may, somebody who says he does know a thing or two about angels is Robbie Williams. Because, it seems, he has been told that ‘salvation lets their wings unfold’. Now don’t get me wrong, ‘Angels’ is a jolly fine song, one that I have, on more than one occasion, sung along to vociferously whilst driving my car up the M5 on the way to my former place of work. But beautiful though his words may be, I’m not quite sure what Robbie means by them.
But leaving that aside for a moment, one thing that I am sure about angels is that they are big on offering reassurance. Just take a look at what they say on each of the four occasions that they appear to people in the Christmas story. If you do you’ll see that the first words that come out of their mouths are always an assurance to those that they are visiting that they need not be afraid.
Now you might think that angels must be truly terrifying creatures if their every conversation has to start with either a ‘Fear not’, or a ‘Do not be afraid’ – and well they may be. I for sure would be taken aback if a celestial being appeared unbidden in my kitchen and started to engage me in earnest conversation whilst I was trying to do washing up. But however accepting they might be of an alarming pile of dirty crockery, I think there is more going on here than simply angels calming the immediate fears of those with whom they are having a particularly close encounter.
Take, for example, the angel of the Lord who appeared to those shepherds who were watching their flocks by night. He doesn’t say to them, ‘Fear not – I’m not going to hurt you’ but instead he says, and I’m paraphrasing here, ‘Fear not – God isn’t going to hurt you’.
Because here’s the thing – for you or I to come into the presence of a holy God, when we ourselves are sinful people, is a terrifying prospect. God is a righteous judge, something, incidentally, that we all want him to be, unless, that is, we are content to watch the many injustices within our world to go unchecked. And because God is a righteous judge, it means he must punish sin. And that includes ours.
That’s why the Bible describes God as ‘a consuming fire’ [Hebrews 12:29] and tells us that ‘it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.’ [Hebrews 10:31].
Which is, as I’m sure you’ll agree, something of a problem.
But imagine for a moment that you are out one night and you find yourself all alone on an expanse of open moorland whilst all around you is raging the most violent thunderstorm that you have ever encountered. To be in such a situation would be genuinely terrifying.
But suppose you were then able to find a cleft in a nearby rock and from that place of safety continue to watch the lightning as it lit up the sky. What a difference that would make. Instead of being terrifying, the storm would now be a genuinely awesome spectacle, one that you couldn’t help but delight to watch.
God, like such a storm, is genuinely awesome, only more so. But also like the storm, he is not safe. And so we should be terrified of him. And we should be equally terrified if one of his representatives was ever to appear before us. At least, that is, until we have been reassured by them that God has prepared a safe place from which to marvel at him.
And that’s exactly what the angel of the Lord did to the shepherds out in the fields on that first Christmas night. Let me remind you of what he said.
‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord.’ [Luke 2:10-11]
Because you see, this news of a saviour is news of one who would die in our place, one who would pay the penalty for our sin and thereby satisfy God’s need for justice. Thereafter, safe as it were in Jesus, we can now enjoy God for the awesome one that he truly is – thrilled by the beauty of his holiness rather than forever fearful of his judgment.
That is the gospel, the good news of great joy that is for all people. That is the promise of salvation for which, like the angels, we should give glory to God.
Finally, here’s one more thing that I know for sure about angels – ‘there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents.’ [Luke 15:10].
Who knows, perhaps that’s what Robbie meant in his song.
*****
Given that the former Take That singer’s vocal range is a little greater than mine, it is perhaps fortuitous that there is no footage of my in-car performance of this epic ballad. So you’ll just have to settle for Robbie Williams himself. With words includes – so there’s no reason for you not to join in too!
‘When I’m feeling weak And my pain walks down a one way street I look above And I know I’ll always be blessed with love.’
DAY 15
SLADE FRONTMAN NODDY HOLDER – NOW AND THEN
It is now 50 years since Slade topped the charts with ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ and a week today we will learn who will have the honour of being this year’s Christmas number one.
No doubt many of us will have at least one CD which has on it a collection of the classic tracks that have become such an important part of what for many is ‘the most wonderful time of the year’ and each of us will have our own personal favourite. But amongst all the genuinely great songs out there, there are one or two that contain lyrics that are, to say the very least, somewhat bizarre.
Take, for example, Chris de Burgh’s ‘A Spaceman Came Travelling’ which suggests that an extraterrestrial came to earth 2000 years ago, travelling here in his intergalactic space craft to break the good news of peace and goodwill to all men. And then there’s ‘Do they know it’s Christmas’ which, whilst being part of the genuinely admirable money raising efforts of Bob Geldof, seems to suggest that Christmas might go unnoticed by those who have the least rather than being longed for all the more.
But it’s not just the songs that make up our party playlists that contain some strange lyrics – so do some of the carols that are sung in church. Take that staple of a countless infant nativity plays, ‘Away in a Manger’. Given the fact that scripture informs us that Jesus was ‘a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief’ [Isaiah 53:3] and that ‘Jesus wept’ at the tomb of his good friend Lazarus [John 11.35], it seems unlikely to me that, when woken by a herd of lowing cattle, ‘the little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes’.
And then there is the much loved ‘In the bleak midwinter’ which gives the impression that there were subzero temperatures and deep snow in Bethlehem when Jesus was born. Now I’m not saying that this is totally out of the question but given how a quick Google search reveals that the average snowfall in Bethlehem is no more than a couple of inches a year, and that the Bible makes no mention of wintry conditions at the time of Jesus’ birth, it would appear that Christina Rosetti’s words owe more to the romanticised notions of how those in the west like to imagine the first Christmas than to any meteorological reality.
That said, there are some carols that contain wonderful theological truth, including ‘In the bleak midwinter’ itself which, in its much more profound second verse, manages to convey something of the paradox of the one who holds the whole world in his hands taking up residence in a young girl’s womb. The verse begins with…
‘Our God, heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain, Heaven and earth shall flee away, when He comes to reign’
…before going on to describe how the Lord of all creation humbled himself by becoming, not only a vulnerable baby boy, but one for whom ‘a stable-place sufficed’.
Another great Christmas carol containing wonderful biblical truth is Charles Wesley’s ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’. If there a finer sound to be heard on Christmas morning than that of this magnificent hymn being played by an organist who, quite literally, has pulled out all the stops, then I’ve not heard it. And what a joy it is to add to the noise by joining with others and singing words that announce, so much better than John Lennon ever did, that war is over:
‘Peace on earth and mercy mild God and sinners reconciled’
The hymn continues with an exhortation for everyone to see that the ‘offspring of a virgin’s womb’ is none other than God himself…
‘Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see! Hail the incarnate Deity! Pleased as man with man to dwell, Jesus, our Emanuel’
… before finally reiterating just why it was that Jesus came:
‘Mild He lays His glory by, Born that man no more may die Born to raise the sons of earth Born to give them second birth’
It’s all tremendous stuff , and surely the best Christmas song of all time – save perhaps for the one that was originally sung by a choir of angels in a live performance that took place over the fields not that far from little town of Bethlehem. The lyrics may be familiar to you, found as they are in Luke 2:14
‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!’
*****
Sadly there is no recording available of what took place on what was surely far from a silent night. So instead for today’s song we’ll go with the carol that their anthem inspired. I do hope that you’ll all enjoy singing this majestic carol at least once over the coming weeks.
DAY 16
A BRIGHT STAR SHINING
Can you remember a time when you were overjoyed, when it was as if you had too much joy? Can you remember a time when you were so happy that it almost hurt?
I can – It was 21st July 1981
Now I know what you’re thinking, or, at least, what those who know me are thinking. You’re thinking, ‘I bet that’s the date of some famous cricket match’ Well, I’m pleased to be able to inform you that you’re…absolutely right.
Long story short. England v Australia – 3rd test of the summer – at Headingly. Australia had made 401 in their first innings and England, having made 174 all out in theirs, were made to follow on. But despite slumping to 135-7 in their second innings, a fantastic 149 from my schoolboy hero, Ian Botham, meant that Australia were still set a modest target of 129 in their second innings. It should have been easy and, having made 56-1, it looked like they were home and dry. But then Bob Willis tore through the Australian batting line up finishing with 8 for 43 and Australia were all out for 111. So England won by 18 runs.
And as every Australian wicket fell I can still remember experiencing the human equivalent of the zoomies – literally leaping round the back garden. So elated was I that I even did a head over heels under the washing line in celebration of each Australian dismissal! I was 14 at the time – who knows what my mother thought. But who cares, it was just a fantastic day.
My wedding day was quite good too!
The reason I mention all this now is that in Matthew 2:10 we read of the wise men being similarly overjoyed. You know how the story goes. They were travelling from the East to Jerusalem in order that they might worship ‘the one who [had] been born king of Jews’ [Matthew 2:2]. And when they saw the star come to rest over the place where the child was they:
‘rejoiced exceedingly with great joy’
As has been pointed out by others, the wise men didn’t just rejoice, they rejoiced exceedingly. More than that they rejoiced exceedingly with joy, but with a joy that Matthew has to stress is a great joy if he is going to adequately convey just how happy these wise men were. Put all together, the gospel writer’s words are, I think, just about as good a definition of ‘overjoyed’ as you’re ever likely to get.
But it wasn’t the star that made them so happy – rather it is what seeing the star signified. And what the star signified was that they would soon see Jesus. That’s why the wise men were so happy it almost hurt.
I wonder if we are as excited about the prospect of meeting Jesus now as the wise men were then. Or are we so caught up with the things that tell us its beginning to look a lot like Christmas without ever enjoying the fact that Jesus has been born?
Because it’s all too easy to get excited by the signs and neglect what it is that those signs are pointing to. Which is about as sensible as heading off for a day at the seaside and then opting instead to stop and spend time admiring the signpost that points to the beach. Such behaviour would be madness. Not only that, rather than leaving us overjoyed, it would leave us underwhelmed.
So how are you approaching Christmas this year? Are you cynically bemoaning the admittedly over commercialisation of Christmas, grumbling at all that you have to do in preparation for the big day and fretting at how much it’s all going to cost?
Or are you approaching Christmas like a wise man – overjoyed at the prospect of meeting Jesus?
*****
And so to today’s song? I did toy with choosing the jaunty theme music from the BBC’s cricket coverage, or 10cc’s ‘I don’t like cricket, I love it’ but in the end I went for ‘I’m a believer’ by the Monkees. Why? Well firstly I read on the internet (so it must be true!) that neuroscientists have rated it is one of the Top 10 happiest songs of all time – well I mean it’s not as though they have anything more important to do. And secondary, because I am one!
DAY 17
CHRISTMAS PRESENTS
It’s August 1983 and a teenage lad is waiting anxiously for his O’level results. Eventually the postman arrives and with his hands all a tremble the youngster manages to peel open the tightly sealed envelope and unfold the single slip of paper that he finds contained within.
It turns out the ‘boy done good’ and his pleased as punch mother asks the young man if there is anything he’d like her to buy him to mark his achievement.
It turns out there is. As an already proud only of one moderately trendy T-shirt, the lad imagines himself to be quite the New Romantic and so, without a moment’s hesitation, he replies that he would very much appreciate the new album by Spandau Ballet.
I know this much is true. Because, dear reader, I was that boy.
One of the tracks on ‘True’ was called ‘Gold’. This is highly fortuitous for me since it brings us rather tortuously to the subject of today’s post – namely the gifts that the three wise men brought the Christ child.
Now it is sometimes jokingly suggested that those who had travelled so far to see Jesus must have been men as only men would have brought such impractical gifts. But in fact the gifts that they brought reveal that the wise men were…well, very wise indeed actually. And here’s why.
The first gift was gold which back then was, just as it is now, very valuable. Gold was a gift fit for a King and so it was wholly appropriate for the wise men to offer some to the one who had been born king of the Jews. More than that it fulfils the prophecy of Isaiah which describes how this king would be worshiped by all nations.
‘And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising. Lift up your eyes all around, and see; they all gather together, they come to you… They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall bring good news, the praises of the LORD., [Isaiah 60:3-4a,6b]
Frankincense is also mentioned in Isaiah’s prophecy. As a fragrance that was used for the purposes of worship, it had a distinctly priestly connotation making it a highly appropriate gift for Jesus too.
‘But why?’ I hear you ask – well the answer is found in the Old Testament. Back then priests acted as mediators between God and man and offered animal sacrifices for the forgiveness of the sin. But whereas it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins [Hebrews 10:4], the blood of Jesus, the lamb of God, can. [John 1:29].
And so, when Jesus sacrificed himself he too was acting as a priest [Hebrews 14:4] and the only mediator between God and man [1Timothy 2:5]. And so frankincense is an entirely appropriate gift to bring the child who would one day be our great high priest [Hebrews 14:4]
And then there was the myrrh, a fragrance used in the preparation of the dead for burial. And since ‘Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners’ [1 Timothy 1:15], a task he achieved through his death, burial and subsequent resurrection, myrrh too was an entirely appropriate gift for the wise men to bring.
So gold, frankincense and myrrh were in fact wisely chosen gifts that point us perfectly to a king who, acting as a priest, would die for his people.
But more than anything else, what marked out these travellers from the east as wise was the fact that, recognising Jesus to be somebody so much greater than they were themselves, ‘they fell down and worshipped him’. [Matthew 2:11].
And, to cut a long story short, we would be wise to do the same.
*****
So what shall we have as today’s song? Well I suppose the obvious choice would be ‘Gold’ by Spandau Ballet but sadly the young man of our story is no longer young, and neither is he now a New Romantic. Please don’t take this to mean that he is now old and somewhat disappointed in love, rather that over the years his musical tastes have changed. So by way of a nod to the second of the wise men’s gifts I’ve chosen a song from the film ‘Young Frankenstein’. I know, I’m pushing it, but it’s Christmas and this song always makes me laugh. Perhaps it will you too!
DAY 18
THE FIRST LIGHT OF DAWN
It is sometimes said that ‘Christmas is a time for giving’ and in many ways it is. But what is seldom said is that Christmas is a time for lament.
Even so, it very much is.
Which is why, before we give, we need to first receive the gift of the one who gives his only son. After all, it is God who gives most.
The apostle Paul spoke of how he was ‘sorrowful yet always rejoicing [2 Corinthians 6:10] and so, even at this time of joyful celebration, there is still a place for sadness. Because this Christmas, globally as well as nationally, locally and, for many, personally, there is much that is worthy of our tears.
Paradoxically then, we need to learn how to be happy and sad at the same time. Because, just as when we are sad there are things that can make us smile, so too, when we are happy, there are things that can make us cry.
The murder of the innocents is an aspect of the Christmas story that rarely makes it into the Nativity plays that we love to see our children take part in. Maybe that’s because, whilst the judicious positioning of a tea towel on an infant’s head instantly transforms them into the likeness of a first century Judean shepherd, the props required to convey the malevolence of a homicidal tyrant aren’t so readily available in the nation’s dressing up boxes.
Because that’s what King Herod was – a homicidal tyrant. Pathologically jealous he killed his own wife and, to ensure she didn’t give him a hard time over it, killed his mother-in-law too. He had two of his sons slaughtered lest they tried to seize his throne, and a third executed five days before his own death.
Furthermore, when he knew he was dying, he ordered the arrest of many of the most distinguished citizens of Jerusalem and saw to it that they would be executed on the day of his death. Why? Because, knowing his demise would be welcomed, he wanted to be sure that there would at least be some who were mourning in Jerusalem on the day he died.
No wonder then that the Bible tells us that when he heard of a potential rival to his throne, the one the wise men spoke of as being the King of the Jews, it wasn’t just Herod who was troubled – it was ‘all Jerusalem with him’. [Matthew 2:3]
And so we read of how King Herod has a secret meeting with the wise men in which he tells them to search diligent for Jesus and, when they finally find him, make known to him his exact whereabouts. He tells them that he too wants to worship the boy, but in reality he just wants the child dead. The wise men however, having found Jesus and been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, wisely head home by another route, leaving a furious Herod ordering that all the male children under the age of two be killed.
It’s all very unpleasant – as real life sadly sometimes is.
Now there will be those who will try to shut their eyes to the reality of suffering this Christmas. Others will pay lip service to how dreadful things are for others before pushing it all to the back of their minds and continuing on their merry way – unchanged, unmoved, and unaffected. ‘After all,’ they’ll say ‘what’s suffering got to do with Christmas?’
And therein lies the problem with Christmas, or rather the problem with the Christmas that we have created. As with life, we struggle to conceive that the realities of hate, pain and suffering sit alongside those of love, joy and peace, that these things are, to a greater or lesser extent, present in all our lives. And so we have marginalised the horror of the Christmas story, preferring the sanitised version that fits better with our forever optimistic outlook on life and our overly positive view of who we really are.
But, though we might say ‘It’s all good’, the reality is, it’s not – we live in a world of both good and evil. And whilst life can be filled with overwhelming joy, for some the sadness is just too much.
Regardless then of whether or not you are somebody who believes the Christmas story, the biblical account does at least reflect the reality that life is a mix of the good and the bad. The joy of the birth of Jesus, and the hope that his arrival brought, is mixed with the abject poverty into which he was born, the rejection experienced by his parents and the murder of the innocents at the hands of Herod.
Furthermore, what began in ‘O little town of Bethlehem’ continued on to ‘a green hill far away’ where the baby whose birth we celebrate at Christmas suffered as a grown man the horrors of crucifixion. The Roman orator Cicero described crucifixion as ‘a most cruel and disgusting punishment’ and suggested that ‘the very mention of the cross should be far removed not only from a Roman citizen’s body, but from his mind, his eyes, his ears.’
That is the world we live in, joy and sadness, pleasure and pain – we cannot have one without the other. Indeed, for me at least, the two are inextricably linked with the existence of suffering being the reason why we need a redeemer, one who, through the suffering he himself endured, ensures that the suffering that we all still experience will one day come to an end.
This Christmas, therefore, is a time to lament – because suffering is still very much a part of the world in which we live. But even though we grieve, we need not do so as those who have no hope [1 Thessalonians 4:13]
Because though weeping may tarry for the night, joy comes with the morning’ [Psalm 30:5] Of this we can be certain – for the child whose birth we celebrate at Christmas is the one who will ensure that a day is coming when every tear really will be wiped away and death will be no more. [Revelation 21:4]
And I for one can’t wait.
*****
The song today is a melancholy version of Jingle Bells by Chilly Gonzales – just the thing for any for whom this year will be a ‘Blue Christmas’. But first a poem – by John Piper – about an imagined encounter between the grown up Jesus and the Innkeeper of Bethlehem. It’s quite long but, I believe, well worth nine minutes of your time. I find it intensely moving.
DAY 19
A PARTY POPPER
So the reason for my choosing a party popper as the item behind today’s ‘door’ is not, as you might imagine, because it is something that gives an air of the celebrations that are so appropriate at this time of the year, but rather because it’s the closest I could get to a picture of a party pooper!
Because, whilst I assure you that that is not what I intend to be today, it is, I fear, what some might consider me.
But this is not because I’m going to come over all Grinch like and,
‘with all of my grinch fingers nervously drumming, look for some way to stop Christmas from coming!’
Not at all. But having said a little yesterday about some of what often gets left out of those hugely enjoyable nativity plays that make up such a large part of our Christmas celebrations, today I thought I’d say something about the things that are included but might not be strictly correct. Please do feel free to ‘boo’ and ‘hiss’ me as you see fit – it is pantomime season after all! [Oh yes it is!
Take then the idea that Jesus was born in a stable – this is something which is not actually mentioned in the biblical account. We know that Mary and Joseph were unable to find suitable accommodation in Bethlehem, but we don’t know, with any degree of certainty at least, why that was. It may have been due to it being a particular busy time for those offering hospitality in Bethlehem, what with the census that was taking place requiring everyone to return to the town of their birth, or perhaps it was the result of the scandal that would have surrounded Mary at the time, with folk being unwilling to offer accommodation to a pregnant woman who was unmarried and whose child was not fathered by the man with whom she was travelling.
The idea that Mary gave birth somewhere that was surrounded by animals comes only from the fact that Jesus had no crib to lay his head and so had to make do with a manger instead. [Luke 2:7]. That Jesus was born in a stable is therefore, an assumption, perhaps not an unreasonable assumption, but an assumption it is all the same.
But it is when the three wise men join the shepherds in that stable that we begin to deviate more sharply from what we know took place from scripture.
Firstly, we don’t know how many wise men there were. The idea that there were three comes only from the fact that they brought three gifts. Who knows, perhaps there was a fourth wise man and two of them went halves on the cost of the frankincense – after all, as anyone who has recently looked into the cost of Chanel No. 5 will know, perfume ain’t cheap!
Secondly the Bible doesn’t actually say that the wise men followed a star all the way from wherever it was that they began their journey. What it does say is that they saw a ‘star in the East’ and, as a result, came to worship the one to whom that star belonged. [Matthew 2:2]
‘But if they didn’t follow a star’, I hear you ask, ‘how did the wise men know where to go?’
In the Bible the wise men are more properly called Magi, the name from which we get the word magicians. The Magi hailed from the East where they had come to hold great political power.
This was back in the days of King Nebuchadnezzar – the same King Nebuchadnezzar who had taken the Israelites into Babylonian captivity back in Old Testament times. It was the job of the Magi to not only recognise and crown kings, but also, when called upon to do so, to offer advice on certain matters which, on occasions at least, seemed to include the interpretation of dreams.
Now one of the Israelites who had been taken into captivity by Nebuchadnezzar was a man called Daniel and, partly due to his God given ability to interpret the dreams that King Nebuchadnezzar had that the Magi could not, this Daniel eventually rose to became chief of the magicians. [Daniel 5:11].
And so it is entirely possible that the wise men of Matthew Chapter 1 knew where to travel to because they would have been well versed in the prophecies regarding the birth of a king that had been handed down from the time of Daniel. Which in effect is what it says in Matthew 2:5-6. For there we read that, when King Herod asks the wise men where the Christ was to be born. they answer him with these words:
‘In Bethlehem of Judea, for so it is written by the prophet: “And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah, for from you shall come a ruler, who will shepherd my people Israel.”’
This then would explain why, seemingly at a time when they were not being guided by a star, the wise men went first to King Herod in Jerusalem – for surely they would have expected a king to have taken up residency there.
And it would explain too why the wise men went about asking everyone they met where they would find the one who had been born King of the Jews [Matthew 2:2] – for surely they would have expected everyone to have been so excited by the event that they would have kept abreast of exactly where he was residing.
But sadly, what the wise men had expected was not actually the case, for, as John reminds us at the beginning of his gospel, Jesus ‘came to his own but his own people did not receive him’ [John 1:11].
And so it is no surprise that the wise men were overjoyed when the ‘star’ seemingly reappeared and was able to lead the wise men the final few miles to the HOUSE where Jesus, now a CHILD, was living. [Matthew 2:11]. Which suggests that all this took place some time after the birth of Jesus. Unlike in the nativity plays, therefore, the shepherds and kings would never have met.
But all this rather begs the question about how a star can a) reappear and b) accurately pinpoint a specific location whilst way up in the sky.
Well to answer that one we need to ask ourselves what exactly the star was. Because whilst some have suggested that it was a planetary conjunction and others that it was a supernova or comet, there are still others who have suggested something rather different. The word translated ‘star’ is ‘aster’ which can mean ‘a shining or blazing forth’ and so, what the wise men saw in the East may have been, not so much a star, but a supernatural blazing forth of the glory of God, something not dissimilar, perhaps, to that experienced by the shepherds that we read of in Luke 2:9.
‘And an angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them.’
Well there have been a lot of ‘what if’s and ‘maybe’s today, so let’s finish with something definite.
Firstly the wise men came to worship the one who was born to be King of the Jews. And by bowing down to worship Jesus, these Gentile kingmakers acknowledged him to be, not just the King of the Jews, but the King of non-Jews too. As such Jesus is declared by them to be the King of the whole earth.
And secondly, regardless of the exact nature of the star, what is absolutely certain is who that star belongs to. For it was, without doubt, Jesus’ star [Matthew 2:2]. If it was a star in the conventional sense of the word, then it was Jesus’s star, because all creation belongs to him. And if it was a star in the sense of a manifestation of the glory of God, then it still belongs to Jesus, because, since Jesus is God, God’s glory is Christ’s glory too.
But whilst our much loved nativity plays don’t, perhaps, get everything quite, maybe it doesn’t matter all that much, provided, of course, that we grasp the most important parts of the story – that at Christmas God became a baby boy and, as every self respecting Nativity angel will tell you, he was given the name Jesus because he would save his people from their sins.
Which, you’ve got to admit is, is something still well worth partying over.
*****
Today’s song is ‘Yellow’ by Coldplay. I’ll leave you to look at the lyrics and judge just how appropriate a choice it is but, trust me on this one, it’s a whole lot more appropriate than the one sung for Day 17 by a tuxedo wearing monster! I promise that normal service will resume tomorrow!
DAY 20
FRODO BAGGINS
Hands up anybody who would like some tips on how to endear yourself to someone with whom you’d like to start a relationship? Quite a few of you by the look of it! Well, for those of you still straining to touch the ceiling whilst shouting ‘Me sir, me sir’ (thank you, you can put your hands down now), I’m delighted to tell you that today is your lucky day because I am about to reveal to you my tried and tested method, the one by which I managed to snare the woman I now call my wife!
First though you will need to master the runic alphabet as employed by J.R.R. Tolkien in ‘The Lord of the Rings’. And before anyone suggests that the reason I may once have done this has anything to do with me being a hobbit, I’d like to point out that, though diminutive in stature, I have far from furry feet! That said, I appreciate that this first step is not straightforward – but then who ever said that the path of true love ran smooth?
The second step is more straightforward. Simply transcribe the lyrics of the Eagles’ track ‘I wish you peace’ into the aforementioned language and, in your very best handwriting, write them on a piece of paper. Then slip it under the door of the one for whom you exclusively have eyes.
And that’s it. All you then have to do is sit back and wait for my guaranteed method to work it’s magic. Which, if my experience is anything to go by, should take about five years!
But some things, of course, are worth waiting for.
Take Simeon for example, the man, probably of advanced years, who we read of in Luke 2. Simeon was in the temple in Jerusalem when Jesus was taken there by his parents at around six weeks of age. He had been waiting for ‘the consolation of Israel’, that is, the long awaited Messiah who would one day come to rescue and comfort God’s people. Who knows how long Simeon had been waiting but he had been assured by the Holy Spirit that ‘he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ’ [Luke 2:26].
And so, when Simeon saw Jesus, he recognised him for who he was and, taking him in his arms, said the words found in Luke 2:29-32 that have become known as the Nunc dimitis:
“Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel.”
So here’s the thing. Whilst my hobbit inspired wish for peace for my nearest and dearest was just that, a wish, the peace Simeon experiences here as he draws ever nearer to his own death, is absolute – for he has seen with his own eyes, and held in his own arms, the fulfilment of the promise that God had made to send a saviour, one who would be as such for both Jews and non-Jews alike.
As we are all too well aware, war is very much part of life, with numerous conflicts currently taking place right across the world. Jesus himself said that in these days there would be ‘wars and rumours of wars’ [Matthew 24:6]. But the Bible also speaks of a time when all conflicts will end, when nations will ‘beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks’, when‘nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore’, [Isaiah 2:4].
One day there really will be peace on earth.
But this isn’t the only peace that the Bible speaks of. More significantly we are all offered individual peace terms with God, terms by which all hostilities between ourselves and God come to an end. And amazingly, despite it being our rebellion which has soured the relationship between ourselves and our creator, rather than something being asked of us to put things right, it is God who fulfils all the conditions of the peace treaty.
For on the cross, our sins were paid for when Jesus took there the punishment we deserved. As the prophet Isaiah makes plain
‘…he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.’ [Isaiah 53:5]
Because of the cross, all the causes of enmity between God and man have been dealt with. Because of the cross, the war that raged between God and man is over. Because of the cross, we really can know peace with God.
What Jesus suffered for us was truly awful. Even before being nailed to a piece of wood and left to die, he suffered horrendously at the hands of those whose true nature was being given free reign. As Matthew records
‘…the governors soldiers took Jesus…They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on his head. They put a staff in his right hand. Then they knelt in front of him and mocked him. “Hail, King of the Jews!” they said. They spat on him and took the staff and struck him on the head again and again. After they had mocked him, they took off the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him’ [Matthew 27:27-31]
Paradoxical though it undoubtedly is, that such violence should be the path to peace is nothing short of astonishing. Even so, that is what it took. Furthermore, it was for those who inflicted such suffering on Jesus that that peace was also secured. For even as he hung on the cross and yielded up his life, Jesus prayed for those who were treating him with such disdain. ‘Father, forgive them’, he said, ‘for they do not know what they are doing’. [Luke 23:32-34].
And we too can be included in his prayer. Hear God’s words spoken to you through the Old Testament prophet Isaiah:
‘Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned’. [Isaiah 40:1-2a]
These are indeed comforting words, spoken by ‘the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort’ [2 Corinthians 1:3]. And they are words that were later reinforced by the apostle Paul when he wrote that
‘there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus’. [Romans 8:1].
No matter then the depth of our wrongdoing, we who accept God’s terms of peace, surrender to the one who overwhelms us with his love and are gladly conquered by one so much greater than we are ourselves, we are the ones who, because of the cross, are completely forgiven and can genuinely know ‘the peace of God that passes all understanding’. [Philippians 4:7].
And like Simeon, we too will be able to depart in peace.
And so, as Christmas draws ever nearer, ‘all I am saying is’, like John Lennon before me, ‘give [this] peace a chance’. Because ‘war is over – if you want it – war is over now’
And wouldn’t that be precioussss!
*****
So there are a number of songs that could have provided today’s musical interlude including, of course, ‘I wish you peace’ by the Eagles. But that particular song has done enough damage already so instead it’s a return to these pages for Handel with another section from the Messiah. Today’s lyrics come from the prophet Isaiah and includes a list of some of the names by which Jesus would be called – a list that includes ‘the Prince of Peace’. Here are the words in full so you can sing along Karaoke style! They can also be found at Isaiah 9:6
‘For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace’
DAY 21
A WOODEN TOY FIRE ENGINE
As any self respecting Sunday School student will tell you, if anyone churchy ever asks you a question as part of an all age address, the answer is always ‘Jesus’.
And so it was that, some years ago, when I found myself asked to speak to ‘the young people’ one Sunday in late December, I decided that, in order to throw them off the scent, I would frame my enquiry in the form of a multiple choice question. That way, I thought, no child experienced in ecclesiastical etiquette would be able to blurt out the usual stock answer and expect to have a chocolate sweet thrown at them by way of reward!
The question I posed was this:
Which of the following options has the most to do with Christmas: a) a Christmas tree, b) a mince pie, or c) a fire engine.
Now whether the youngster who answered my question did so on the basis of his deep theological understanding, or whether it was simply that he realised that, if one of the possible answers is vastly less likely than all the rest, then that answer is almost certainly the correct one, I do not know. But either way, he was spot on when he hollered ‘Fire engine’ and duly came close to losing an eye as a fun sized Mars bar flew in his direction with both the speed and precision of an Exocet missile.
Because, you see, the point of my short dialogue was simply to point out that Christmas is all about rescue. Or, at least, the arrival of a rescuer. Miss this and Christmas loses all of its significance.
But here’s a thought. Even if we are minded to remember what Christmas is really all about, could it be that even religious types sometimes get too excited about Christmas?
Imagine this. It’s night time and you wake up to discover your house is on fire. You’re trapped upstairs in your bedroom as the flames burn higher and higher. The heat is intense, the smoke impenetrable and the exit unreachable. All hope seems lost.
And then you hear the distant sound of sirens telling you that help is on its way. You run to the window and the glow of a flashing blue light confirms that the fire brigade is close by.
What a relief!
Sure enough, a bright red engine soon careers around the corner and stops outside your house whereupon the neighbours all gather around the crew celebrating their arrival. Everyone seems very happy. But then you realise that the firemen aren’t doing anything to rescue you and, to your horror, none of your neighbours seem all that concerned by the fact. They’re just delighted that the rescuers have actually arrived.
What a tragedy that would be.
Christmas is about the birth of Jesus but his arrival is only the start, because he came with a job description – he came with work to do. The angel who announced Jesus’s birth to the shepherds had it right that night when he said:
‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a saviour, who is Christ the Lord’ [Luke 2:10-11]
The good news is that a saviour has been born. At Christmas, God became man and was given the name of Jesus because he would ‘save his people from their sins’ [Matthew 1:21].
But remarkable though his arrival was, Jesus’ birth did not, in and of itself, effect a rescue. Because, essential though his birth was, it was his subsequent life, death and resurrection that went on to secure the salvation he had come to secure. By living a perfect life, a life which God graciously credits us as having lived, and dying a perfect death, one that, by bearing the punishment that we deserved, was sufficient to satisfy God’s justice, Jesus saves us from the wrath of God and clears the way for our adoption into God’s family as dearly loved children.
At Christmas, forgetting the rescue that Jesus was sent by God to bring about is as tragic, and foolish, as our delighting in the arrival of the fire brigade at our burning home but having no interest in them putting out the fire!
Which explains perhaps why, despite nowhere in the Bible being commanded to remember his birth, Christian’s are frequently exhorted to remember a certain person’s death.
And the name of that certain person was…?
Well you tell me – only please be sure to duck as you shout out his name!
*****
And so to a song. With all the airborne confectionary that’s flying about today, my first thought was to go with that song by Phil Collins that contains the line “I can feel it, coming in the air tonight’. But in the end I didn’t feel it quite cut the Yuletide muster and went instead for something similarly aerial but rather more Christmassy. So here’s Peter Auty singing the original version of ‘Walking in the Air’ from the 1982 animated film, ‘The Snowman’.
DAY 22
THE GRAND CANYON
Some years ago, for her 50th birthday, I took my long suffering wife away for the weekend. Now, given how perilously close I have just come to revealing my wife’s age, I should, for the sake of my own frail longevity, make absolutely clear that, by ‘some years ago’, I actually mean, ‘18 years into the future’!
The centrepiece of the weekend was a day in London but, being the romantic old bratwurst that I am, I didn’t actually tell my nearest and dearest all that I had planned for us to do, choosing instead to adopt an air of mystery and reveal only the next scheduled activity on what was going to be a pretty busy day. That is to say, there was always a little more for me to tell her up until the point we reached the highlight of our excursion, namely the taking in of a West End show.
Well it’s a bit like that with this blog since, what I told you yesterday wasn’t the whole story. Because, whilst it remains absolutely true that the rescue achieved on Good Friday and Easter Day is greater than the Christmas Day arrival of the rescuer, there still remains something even more marvellous to mention.
Because what we are rescued for is even greater than the rescue itself.
‘Well OK’, you’re probably thinking, ‘what is it that could possibly be more important than our rescue? And will you insist on rambling on about something that is supposedly even more amazing tomorrow?’
Well to answer that I’d like to take you to the first question of the Westminster Catechism which was written way back in the 1640’s. The truth it contains hasn’t changed one iota in the last 320 or so years and, since it deals with the fundamentals of our very existence, it will remain every bit as true for all of eternity to come.
So then, the first question askedby the aforementioned summary of the Christian faith is this: ‘What is the chief end of man?’. And it gives as its answer: ‘The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy him forever’.
It’s sometimes said that the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing. And here it’s being suggested that the main thing is the glory of God and that the purpose of our existence is to both add to and enjoy that glory. Or, better put perhaps, our purpose is to glorify God BY our enjoyment of his glory.
So here’s the thing – we don’t glorify God by dutifully acknowledging his existence, on the contrary, we magnify his worth by joyfully expressing our love for him by our heartfelt and exuberant praise for all that he is and all that he has done.
Now I appreciate that to some the glory of God might not sound particularly exciting or indeed something to take pleasure in – but that will surely be the case only for those who struggle to see just how wonderful God really is and prefer to find their satisfaction in other things instead.
But, as the enigmatic author of the book of Ecclesiastes tells us, without God,
‘all the things that are done under the sun…are meaningless, a chasing after the wind.’ [Ecclesiastes 1:14]
And he that wrote these words should know, for having tried everything that this world had to offer, he found it all somehow lacking. And so he concludes that, in and of itself, this life cannot satisfy – not in any ultimate sense.
This is not to suggest that this life doesn’t offer us a wealth of good things that we can take pleasure in, far from it, for many are the good and perfect gifts that God gives us to enjoy. [James 1:17]. But whilst they sometimes might seemingly be able to satisfy us, without God, even the best things in life will not fulfil us. For even the very best of times will eventually come to an end.
Take for example the day out in London that I mentioned earlier that my wife and I enjoyed – you remember, the one that took place in 2041! First up we went on the London Eye and then we took a boat trip down the River Thames complete with, and this will show you just how much I love her, a pre-booked coffee and a mid-morning snackette! [I know – impressive eh – but it meant I could skimp on buying her lunch!] Next we visited the Houses of Parliament where we later indulged in a little tea on the terrace. And lastly, we went to the theatre and saw ‘The Lion King’ – you know the one, ‘Hakuna Matata’ and all that.
We had a genuinely lovely day…
…but eventually, of course, it came to an end.
And similarly, no matter how pleasant Christmas turns out to be this year, in a week’s time it will all be over. Because all good things do inevitably come to an end – that is the nature of our human condition.
So what are we to do?
C.S. Lewis, author of the Chronicles of Narnia, wrote :
‘If I find in myself a desire which no earthly experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world’.
But where might that other world be – where might our longing for infinite joy be eternally satisfied?
To answer that question it may help to consider this. Have you ever enjoyed a wonderful view from the top of a high mountain, or the waves as they crashed spectacularly against a rocky coastline? Have you ever marvelled at the night sky or been spellbound by a beautiful sunset as you headed home one evening? If you have, have you ever wanted that feeling of being caught up in something bigger and better than yourself to go on forever?
I have – and it felt good.
To enjoy such an experience is to acknowledge that true happiness comes, not from within ourselves, but from outside, not from being admired, but rather from admiring that which is truly admirable.
Because as John Piper says, ‘No one goes to the Grand Canyon to increase self esteem’. On the contrary, we go to the Grand Canyon to go ‘Wow’ and, what’s more, enjoy doing so!
And so it seems to me that to be infinitely and eternally happy we need something infinitely and eternally glorious to admire or, to put it another way, something infinitely and eternally glorious to worship.
And that something is, I believe, a someone – namely God himself.
King David says as much in Psalm 16 where in v11 he writes:
‘[O God,] You make known to me the path of life, in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand there are pleasures forevermore.’
You want infinite joy? David says it’s found in the presence of God You want everlasting pleasure? David says it’s found at God’s right hand.
The rescue that was heralded by the prophets of the Old Testament, that began with the arrival of Jesus at the first Christmas and was secured by his subsequent death and resurrection at the first Easter, will one day find its fulfilment when Jesus comes back. Advent is that season of the year when, as well as looking forward to Christmas, we anticipate Jesus return. Because whilst it’s good to remember Jesus’ first coming at Christmas, it’s better still to remember that one day he’s coming back.
For then we’ll see Jesus as he really is – and praise him as we really ought.
So then, if we’re looking for infinite and everlasting joy, let’s not put our hope in a few fun-filled days at the end of each December, pleasant though those days may be. Let’s not put our hope in our seventy or perhaps eighty years of life, for those years are soon gone and one day we will ‘bring our years to an end with a sigh’ [Psalm 90]. Instead let’s hope in God and the new heavens and new earth that he will establish when Jesus returns. Because this is a sure and certain hope, – one that will one day undoubtedly be realised!
Finally then, don’t misunderstand what I am saying here and imagine that I am encouraging a selfish pursuit of one’s own pleasure. Not at all. Nor am I suggesting that life for Christians should be trouble free – on the contrary, – life for Christians, just as it is for non Christians, is often hard – sometimes incredibly so. But Christians are, nonetheless, right to long for the infinite and everlasting joy that will one day be theirs when they finally know God in all his glorious splendour.
It’ll be like enjoying that wonderful view we thought of earlier – only more so. And it will be our delighting in God, marvelling at who he is and what’s he’s done, that will honour him so much more than our dutiful religious observance ever could.
So then, like the angels on that Bethlehem hillside, let us delight to give glory to God, like the shepherds tending their sheep, let us excitedly tell others of what we have seen, and like the wise men with their gifts, let us humbly bow down and worship Jesus Christ as the King of kings and Lord of lords that he truly is.
For with our past misdeeds forgiven and a bright hope for the future, we have every reason to do so.
*****
And so to a song. I did consider ‘When I’m 64’ by the Beatles, but decided that would be asking for trouble so I’ve opted instead for ‘Hakuna Matata’ that well known song from ‘The Lion King’ that I mentioned earlier. As you are probably aware, ‘Hakuna Matata’ means ‘No worries’ which, whilst making for a great little song, is a rather facile philosophy for this life if it’s not grounded in anything that can genuinely relieve us of our fears.
Even so, I’ve chosen it as today’s song because those who are ‘in Christ’ know that, since a day is coming when they will have ‘no worries’, there is a sense in which, despite genuine ongoing anxieties, they have nothing to worry about now.
I appreciate that sounds like a contradiction but it really isn’t and though a little complicated is all tied up in the very helpful theological framework known as “‘The Already’ and the ‘Not Yet’”. If you’re interested you can read about it here in something I wrote back in the days of the pandemic. Alternatively you can just enjoy the song!
DAY 23
HIGHLY FLAVOURED GRAVY
Let’s face it, giving birth to a baby is not easy – things don’t always go as one expects and even the most conscientiously prepared birth plan may serve only to provide some amusement for the medical team that has recently wheeled you down to theatre for a Caesarian section after you’d had the great misfortune of suffering a failed forceps delivery. And trust me on this one, yes that was a snigger you heard as the midwife left your room having just popped in to check whether your screams for an epidural mean that you’re no longer wanting to rely on the natural breathing techniques with which you had hoped to cope with your labour pain!
That said, some things on labour ward do have a funny side to them – I well remember the time my wife and I were left alone in our delivery room and we took it upon ourselves to try the gas and air. Oh how we laughed…
…and laughed…and laughed…and laughed!
But leaving all that aside for a moment, given how difficult it is to deliver a baby in the U.K. in 21st century, consider how much harder it must have been in first century Judea. Because, boy did Mary have it tough.
First there was the small matter of her finding herself pregnant never having had sex before. I was going to say ‘unexpectedly pregnant’ but, of course, it wasn’t unexpected at all, given that the angel Gabriel had told her how she would miraculously conceive the child. And even though she had a fiancée who, after an angelic visit himself, was as faith-filled as she was, she no doubt had to suffer the jibes of those who were, perhaps understandably, less believing than they ought to have been that neither Joseph, nor some other fellow, had been responsible for Mary’s ever expanding girth.
And then there was the journey she had to take from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Some suggest that this would have taken her and Joseph at least four days but, irrespective of exactly how long it took, travelling whilst heavily pregnant couldn’t have been much fun for a women in her third trimester, nor indeed, for the donkey on which she would almost certainly have sat!
Consider then the lack of pain relief and the far from ideal conditions in which Mary would actually have given birth. We don’t know for sure where she laboured but, given that there was no room for her in the inn and that her newborn child had to make do with a manger in which to lie down and sleep, I think we can safely say that, had it happened at Nonnatus House, Sister Julienne would not have been happy.
And that wasn’t the end of Mary’s problems either as, a few months later, together with Joseph and the infant, she had to flee to Egypt to escape Herod’s clumsy attempt to have her child killed by murdering all the children in the area who were less than two.
So given how difficult it all was for Mary, it is somewhat surprising that she is described the way she was by Gabriel. Let me remind you of his first words to her:
‘Greetings, O favoured one, the Lord is with you!’, [Luke 1:28]
and, just in case Mary, or indeed we missed it, Gabriel reiterates the point with these words:
‘Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God.’ [Luke 1:30]
What then are we to make of the fact that the one who is supposedly so favoured by God is the one who has such an unmistakably torrid time? Well many things I’m sure, but I’d like to suggest just two.
Firstly, those who become Christians should not expect a comfortable life. On the contrary, those who experience new life as a result of the Holy Spirit working in their lives, those who are born again into a new and living hope, should, like Mary, expect what Jesus himself said we should expect – namely, ‘tribulation’[John 16:33], which is a fancy Bible word meaning great trouble or suffering.
Because, as is all to plain to Christians who do suffer, the health, wealth and prosperity gospel, so beloved by TV evangelists, is an abomination. Don’t be misled – anyone who promises you that if you become a Christian you will experience your ‘best life now’ is selling you a false gospel. We should not listen to such lies but rather to Jesus himself, who promises us quite the opposite when he says:
‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.’ [Matthew 16:24].
Jesus is telling it as it is. Being a Christian, he says, is tough, it may even cost us our lives, as all but one of the disciples would one day discover. But having called us to die, Jesus, with his very next words, assures us that it will all be worth it in the end. He says:
‘For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.’ [Matthew 16:25].
And so, whilst in this life Christians will be grieved by various trials, they can nonetheless be comforted by the fact that in losing their life they will find it and one day discover the imperishable, undefiled and unfading inheritance that is waiting for them in heaven [1 Peter 1:4-6]. As such they know that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that will one day be revealed to them. [Romans 8:18]
And secondly, the fact that Mary suffered despite her being greatly favoured by God, may help us to answer that age old question so often raised as an objection by those who cannot conceive of a God of love in a world characterised by so much pain and suffering. That question goes like this: ‘Why do bad things happen to good people?’
The answer I believe is this: ‘So that good things can happen to bad people’. Because isn’t that the answer to why the worst possible thing happened to best possible person? Isn’t that why Jesus suffered and died on a cross?
Mary wasn’t perfect but she was a faithful believer in God. She suffered so that God could marvellously take on flesh and become a baby boy. And then, having grown up, the God-man went to the cross and there he suffered too. Why? So that the sins of the whole world could be forgiven.
And so the worst possible thing happened to the best possible person, so the best possible thing could happen to the worst possible people. People like the apostle Paul, who described himself as the chief of sinners, people like me who know themselves to be no better, and people like you, perhaps, who, no more deserving than the rest of us, can also experience the joy of being adopted into God’s family and know the warm embrace of a loving Heavenly Father.
Suffering then is real – but it’s not without meaning. Nor is it without purpose. As John Piper powerfully points out, if, as you’re walking through a hospital, you pass a room wherein comes the sound of someone screaming in pain, how you feel about what you’re hearing depends on whether that room is on an oncology ward or on a labour ward.
And so, just as the pain of childbirth ultimately gives way to the joy of new life, so too the pain and suffering of our day to day lives will one day give way to the inexpressible joy that befits a child of God.
Because Jesus’ death, to which Mary was herself an eyewitness and which was surely more painful for her than anything else she’d previously experienced, changes everything. For what she saw as she wept at the foot of the cross was the very thing that would one day ensure that her every tear would be wiped away. [Revelation 21:4]
And not only hers.
Mary was indeed highly favoured – and we who know and trust the child she bore, well we are highly favoured too.
*****
Easy choice for today’s song. Gabriel’s message, sung here by the Genesis 16.
DAY 24
THE CROSS
Some years ago at our daily get together over coffee, I announced to my former work colleagues how I was really rather enjoying Justin Bieber’s Christmas album. There followed an embarrassed silence, one that I did not fully understand until that evening when I got home and realised my mistake. I had confused my Justin Bieber’s with my Michael Bublé’s!
That was an embarrassing Christmas mistake, one that I was quick to put right the very next morning!
But it is not as big a mistake as the one that some might think I’ve been making this month by writing so much about my Christian faith. But in a world in which we are all too often encouraged to be strong, the reality is that in and of myself, strong is exactly what I’m not. From time to time life feels beyond me but my faith brings with it the realisation that, when I’m feeling overwhelmed it’s not all down to me. It gives me the encouragement I need to keep on in the face of ongoing difficulty and reminds me that hardships aren’t some kind of anomaly.
On the contrary they are to be expected. And when life itself is just too sad, it is my faith that gives me the assurance that even as we suffer and are sorrowful we can still hope and rejoice in the better future that I believe is surely coming, one in which every tear will be wiped away.
And so this Christmas, that time we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, I have been anxious to share good news. Not only because I find it helpful but because I believe it to be true. And so I am not ashamed of the gospel, believing it to be the power of God for salvation for those who believe. In other words I believe it has the power to make a real difference, not only in the lives of those who don’t yet believe it, but those who, like me, do but need to be constantly reminded of just how good the good news is.
So I’m going to embarrass myself one last time by saying that I really do believe the message that those angels brought to the shepherds that first Christmas night. I believe that the birth of a Saviour is good news ‘for all the people’, even for those of us who are worn out and exhausted. Indeed it is, perhaps, when life is at its hardest, when sadness and suffering are all around, that our need for Christmas and the hope it brings is most obvious.
So what exactly is meant by the ‘gospel’, a word that simply means ‘good news’? It is an important question to ask because the gospel is so often misunderstood, even by those who regularly attend church. Too many confuse the law with the gospel and end up believing that, to be right with God, they need to keep all of his commandments and only by being sufficiently successful in that endeavour will they earn their way into heaven.
Now don’t misunderstand what I am saying here – God’s law is good and, as well as repenting of the times we have wilfully ignored what it says and gone our own way, we should absolutely strive to keep its commands. But the gospel is the good news that God has done something to rectify the situation when we inevitably fail to do so.
Even so, many of us do seem intent on living a life of continuous struggle. And so, not content with trying to satisfy the just requirements of God’s law, we burden ourselves further by attempting to present ourselves as better than we really are to those whose love we crave. We live in a world that constantly demands that we are awesome. And what a burden this is for those of us who know how far short we fall, who recognise our weakness and our need for help.
With this in mind I have noticed lately a tendency for some to encourage friends who are facing great difficulties with the words ‘You’ve got this’. I don’t doubt that such expressions are well intentioned but I wonder how they are received by those who feel lost, confused and powerless, those who feel out of control and are all too well aware that they haven’t ‘got it’ at all. At such times, rather than being told that we can do what we know we can’t, how much better it would be to hear that what we need to do has already been done for us by somebody who really can?
And that, in short, is the gospel. The good news is that God has done what we can not.
But what exactly has God done? To some the answer may sound like foolishness, at least it did to those who, back in the first century when Paul was writing, considered themselves wise. But as the apostle wrote back then, ‘the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men’ [1 Corinthians 1:25].
What Paul was referring to was the cross on which Jesus was crucified. For this was an act that, despite its apparent foolishness and weakness was the means by which God wisely chose to show his strength. For violent and bloody though it was, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ was the means by which the penalty that was rightly ours was paid. It was on the cross that a righteous God’s need for justice was satisfied, and our peace with God was secured.
The law then reveals to us what God demands – demands that we cannot keep however hard we try. In contrast, the gospel tells us that dispute our sinfulness, God loves us, and sent his son into the world to save us.
The gospel is the news that by living a perfect life, Jesus kept the law that we could not, it is the news that a great exchange has taken place such that we are robed in Christ’s righteousness even as our sinfulness is laid on Jesus, it is the news that, because Jesus allowed himself to be crucified in our place, bearing the punishment we deserved, we are counted right with God.
Some will indeed say this is foolishness, but it is through such apparent foolishness that we have been redeemed and a great salvation has been a secured, one that, as well as guaranteeing the forgiveness of our sins, promises a future devoid of sickness, sadness and death. [Revelation 21:4].
How then should we respond to this good news. A story Jesus once told might help. This is what he said in Luke 18:10-14.
“Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
Jesus is describing two types of people. The Pharisees were the religious types who prided themselves on how well they kept the law. The one spoken of in this story seems particularly pleased with himself and clearly thinks God should be impressed by his performance. In contrast the tax collector, one of that group of people hated even more in Jesus’ day than they are in ours, recognises his sinfulness and, rather than trusting in his performance, appeals instead to God’s mercy and his willingness to forgive.
When Jesus says it was the tax collector who was justified, he is using a word that means that it was he who was counted right before God. And so you see what Jesus is saying – since nobody but Jesus himself was truly good, it is not by keeping the law that we are saved. On the contrary, rather than reaching a certain level of awesomeness, it is by humbling ourselves before God, by recognising our weakness and our need for mercy, that we are reconciled to the God who really does love us in the way we all so long for.
I for one am pleased that this is the case because I haven’t got what it takes. The truth is I haven’t ‘got this’ – but I am glad that God has. Perhaps you will consider it foolishness on my part, but rather than pretend that I can cope, I am content to leave things in the hands of the one who really does know what he’s doing. This doesn’t mean that everything in this life will necessarily work out the way I would like it to, after all, as the old hymn goes, ‘God works in a mysterious way his wonders to perform’. Even so, in difficult days it helps me to know that, because he is good and because he is strong, what God ultimately brings about really will be for the best, irrespective of how unfathomable current circumstances might sometimes be.
And I hope this Christmas, that this might help you too. For God really can be trusted and those who do will surely find that the foolishness of God really is wiser than the wisdom of man. God really does ‘have this’ and he has you too – safe in his everlasting arms.
This is the hope of Christmas.
***
So with all that said, it only leaves me to thank those of you who have stayed with me these last twenty four days, and to wish you all, irrespective of your current circumstances, the merriest of Merry Christmases and the happiest of Happy New Years.
Because, as I hope I’ve made plain, Christmas really can cheer the broken-hearted, and rest merry even the most downcast.
Now, how long is it till the 40 days of Lent!
*****
And so to our final song selection. I did consider choosing ‘I Wish It it Could Be Christmas Every Day’ because, in a way, one day it will be, only more so – because heaven will have none of the disappointments that inevitably characterise the Christmases we currently experience.
But in the end it had to be Slade’s classic form 50 years ago. So ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ and, as the song suggests, ‘look to the future’ – because of Jesus, it really is going to be ALL right
Take it away Noddy!
CHRISTMAS DAY
THE HOLY BIBLE
The Lord God said to the serpent…”I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring[e] and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.”
Genesis 3:15
Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel
Isaiah 7:14
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6
In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration before Quirinius was governor of Syria. And all went to be registered, each to his own town. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,
“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”
When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.” And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. And when they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child. And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them
Luke 2:1-20
Christ Jesus…though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.
Philippians 2:5-8
And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And some of the bystanders hearing it said, “Behold, he is calling Elijah.” And someone ran and filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a reed and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.” And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”
Mark 15:33-39
Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.
Isaiah 53:4-6
For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
2 Corinthians 5:21
God raised him up, loosing the pangs of death, because it was not possible for him to be held by it.
Acts 2:24
Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
Philippians 2:9-11
For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have fallen asleep.
1 Corinthians 15:3-6
For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 6:23
All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.
2 Corinthians 5:18-20
For “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”
Romans 10:13
And you, who were dead in your trespasses …God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross.
Colossians 2:13-14
There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
Romans 8:1
For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:38-39
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.
Revelation 21:1-4
He who testifies to these things says, “Surely I am coming soon.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!.
Revelation 22:20
*****
Joy to the world, the Lord is come Let Earth receive her King Let every heart prepare Him room And Heaven and nature sing And Heaven and nature sing And Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing
Joy to the Earth, the Savior reigns Let all their songs employ While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains Repeat the sounding joy Repeat the sounding joy Repeat, repeat the sounding joy
He rules the world with truth and grace And makes the nations prove The glories of His righteousness And wonders of His love (and wonders of His love) And wonders of His love (and wonders of His love) And wonders, wonders of His love
Some years ago at our daily get together over coffee, I announced to my former work colleagues how I was really rather enjoying Justin Bieber’s Christmas album. There followed an embarrassed silence, one that I did not fully understand until that evening when I got home and realised my mistake. I had confused my Justin Bieber’s with my Michael Bublé’s!
That was an embarrassing Christmas mistake, one that I was quick to put right the very next morning!
But it is not as big a mistake as the one that some might think I’ve been making this month by writing so much about my Christian faith. But in a world in which we are all too often encouraged to be strong, the reality is that in and of myself, strong is exactly what I’m not. From time to time life feels beyond me but my faith brings with it the realisation that, when I’m feeling overwhelmed it’s not all down to me. It gives me the encouragement I need to keep on in the face of ongoing difficulty and reminds me that hardships aren’t some kind of anomaly.
On the contrary they are to be expected. And when life itself is just too sad, it is my faith that gives me the assurance that even as we suffer and are sorrowful we can still hope and rejoice in the better future that I believe is surely coming, one in which every tear will be wiped away.
And so this Christmas, that time we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, I have been anxious to share good news. Not only because I find it helpful but because I believe it to be true. And so I am not ashamed of the gospel, believing it to be the power of God for salvation for those who believe. In other words I believe it has the power to make a real difference, not only in the lives of those who don’t yet believe it, but those who, like me, do, but need to be constantly reminded of just how good the good news is.
So I’m going to embarrass myself one last time by saying that I really do believe the message that those angels brought to the shepherds that first Christmas night. I believe that the birth of a Saviour is good news ‘for all the people’, even for those of us who are worn out and exhausted. Indeed it is, perhaps, when life is at its hardest, when sadness and suffering are all around, that our need for Christmas and the hope it brings is most obvious.
So what exactly is meant by the ‘gospel’, a word that simply means ‘good news’? It is an important question to ask because the gospel is so often misunderstood, even by those who regularly attend church. Too many confuse the law with the gospel and end up believing that, to be right with God, they need to keep all of his commandments and only by being sufficiently successful in that endeavour will they earn their way into heaven.
Now don’t misunderstand what I am saying here – God’s law is good and, as well as repenting of the times we have wilfully ignored what it says and gone our own way instead, we should absolutely strive to keep its commands. But the gospel is the good news that God has done something to rectify the situation when we inevitably fail to do so.
Even so, many of us do seem intent on living a life of continuous struggle. And so, not content with trying to satisfy the just requirements of God’s law, we burden ourselves further by attempting to present ourselves as better than we really are to those whose love we crave. We live in a world that constantly demands that we are awesome. And what a burden this is for those of us who know how far short we fall, who recognise our weakness and our need for help.
With this in mind I have noticed lately a tendency for some to encourage friends who are facing great difficulties with the words ‘You’ve got this’. I don’t doubt that such expressions are well intentioned but I wonder how they are received by those who feel lost, confused and powerless, those who feel out of control and are all too well aware that they haven’t ‘got it’ at all. At such times, rather than being told that we can do what we know we can’t, how much better it would be to hear that what we need to do has already been done for us by somebody who really can?
And that, in short, is the gospel. The good news is that God has done what we can not.
But what exactly has God done? To some the answer may sound like foolishness, at least it did to those who, back in the first century when Paul was writing, considered themselves wise. But as the apostle wrote back then, ‘the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men’ [1 Corinthians 1:25].
What Paul was referring to was the cross on which Jesus was crucified. For this was an act that, despite its apparent foolishness and weakness was the means by which God wisely chose to show his strength. For violent and bloody though it was, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ was the means by which the penalty that was rightly ours was paid. It was on the cross that a righteous God’s need for justice was satisfied, and our peace with God was secured.
The law then reveals to us what God demands – demands that we cannot keep however hard we try. In contrast, the gospel tells us that dispute our sinfulness, God loves us, and sent his son into the world to save us.
The gospel is the news that by living a perfect life, Jesus kept the law that we could not, it is the news that a great exchange has taken place such that we are robed in Christ’s righteousness even as our sinfulness is laid on Jesus, it is the news that, because Jesus allowed himself to be crucified in our place, bearing the punishment we deserved, we are counted right with God.
Some will indeed say this is foolishness, but it is through such apparent foolishness that we have been redeemed and a great salvation has been a secured, one that, as well as guaranteeing the forgiveness of our sins, promises a future devoid of sickness, sadness and death. [Revelation 21:4].
How then should we respond to this good news. A story Jesus once told might help. This is what he said in Luke 18:10-14.
“Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
Jesus is describing two types of people. The Pharisees were the religious types who prided themselves on how well they kept the law. The one spoken of in this story seems particularly pleased with himself and clearly thinks God should be impressed by his performance. In contrast the tax collector, one of that group of people hated even more in Jesus’ day than they are in ours, recognises his sinfulness and, rather than trusting in his performance, appeals instead to God’s mercy and his willingness to forgive.
When Jesus says it was the tax collector who was justified, he is using a word that means that it was he who was counted right before God. And so you see what Jesus is saying – since nobody but Jesus himself was truly good, it is not by keeping the law that we are saved. On the contrary, rather than reaching a certain level of awesomeness, it is by humbling ourselves before God, by recognising our weakness and our need for mercy, that we are reconciled to the God who really does love us in the way we all so long for.
I for one am pleased that this is the case because I haven’t got what it takes. The truth is I haven’t ‘got this’ – but I am glad that God has. Perhaps you will consider it foolishness on my part, but rather than pretend that I can cope, I am content to leave things in the hands of the one who really does know what he’s doing. This doesn’t mean that everything in this life will necessarily work out the way I would like it to, after all, as the old hymn goes, ‘God works in a mysterious way his wonders to perform’. Even so, in difficult days it helps me to know that, because he is good and because he is strong, what God ultimately brings about really will be for the best, irrespective of how unfathomable current circumstances might sometimes be.
And I hope this Christmas, that this might help you too. For God really can be trusted and those who do will surely find that the foolishness of God really is wiser than the wisdom of man. God really does ‘have this’ and he has you too – safe in his everlasting arms.
This is the hope of Christmas.
***
So with all that said, it only leaves me to thank those of you who have stayed with me these last twenty four days, and to wish you all, irrespective of your current circumstances, the merriest of Merry Christmases and the happiest of Happy New Years.
Because, as I hope I’ve made plain, Christmas really can cheer the broken-hearted, and rest merry even the most downcast.
Now, how long is it till the 40 days of Lent!
*****
And so to our final song selection. I did consider choosing ‘I Wish It it Could Be Christmas Every Day’ because, in a way, one day it will be, only more so – because heaven will have none of the disappointments that inevitably characterise the Christmases we currently experience.
But in the end it had to be Slade’s classic form 50 years ago. So ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ and, as the song suggests, ‘look to the future’ – because of Jesus, it really is going to be ALL right!
Take it away Noddy!
Previously from ‘A Christmas Countdown’:
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 23’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 22’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 21’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 20’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 19’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 18’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 17’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 16’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 15, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 14’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 13’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 12’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 11’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 10’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 9’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 8’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 7’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 6’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 5’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 4’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 3’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 2’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 1’, click here
To read ‘An Advent Calendar – Complete’, click here
Let’s face it, giving birth to a baby is not easy – things don’t always go as one expects and even the most conscientiously prepared birth plan may serve only to provide some amusement for the medical team that has just wheeled you down to theatre for a Caesarian section after you’ve had the great misfortune of suffering a failed forceps delivery.
And trust me on this one, yes that was a snigger you heard as the midwife left your room having supposedly just popped in to check whether your screams for an epidural mean that you’re no longer wanting to rely on the natural breathing techniques that you had hoped to mange the pain of your labour!
That said, some things on labour ward do have a funny side to them – I well remember the time my wife and I were left alone in a delivery room and we took it upon ourselves to try the gas and air. Oh how we laughed…
…and laughed…and laughed…and laughed!
But leaving all that aside for a moment, given how difficult it is to deliver a baby in the U.K. in 21st century, think how much harder it must have been in first century Judea. Because, boy did Mary have it tough.
First there was the small matter of her finding herself pregnant never having had sex before. I was going to say she was ‘unexpectedly pregnant’ but, of course, her pregnancy wasn’t unexpected at all, given that the angel Gabriel had told her that she would conceive a baby miraculously. And even though she had a fiancée who, after an angelic visit himself, was as faith-filled as she was, she no doubt had to suffer the jibes of those who were, perhaps understandably, less believing than they ought to have been that neither Joseph, nor some other fellow, had been responsible for Mary’s ever expanding girth.
And then there was the journey she had to take from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Some suggest that this would have taken her and Joseph at least four days but, irrespective of exactly how long it took, travelling whilst heavily pregnant couldn’t have been much fun for a women in her third trimester, nor indeed, for the donkey on which she would almost certainly have sat!
Consider then the lack of pain relief and the far from ideal conditions in which Mary would actually have given birth. We don’t know for sure where she laboured but, given that there was no room for her in the inn and that her newborn child had to make do with a manger in which to lie down and sleep, I think we can safely say that, had it happened at Nonnatus House, Sister Julienne would not have been happy.
And that wasn’t the end of Mary’s problems either as, a few months later, together with Joseph and the infant, she had to flee to Egypt to escape Herod’s clumsy attempt to have her child killed by murdering all the children in the area who were less than two years of age.
So given how difficult it all was for Mary, it is somewhat surprising that she is described the way she was by Gabriel. Let me remind you of his first words to her:
‘Greetings, O favoured one, the Lord is with you!’, [Luke 1:28]
and, just in case Mary, or indeed we missed it, Gabriel reiterates the point with these words:
‘Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God.’ [Luke 1:30]
What then are we to make of the fact that the one who is supposedly so favoured by God is the one who has had such an unmistakably torrid time? Well many things I’m sure, but I’d like to suggest just two.
Firstly, those who become Christians should not expect a comfortable life. On the contrary, those who, like Mary, experience new life within them as a result of the Holy Spirit working in their lives, those who are born again into a new and living hope, should, also like Mary, expect what Jesus himself said we should expect – namely, ‘tribulation’[John 16:33], which is a fancy Bible word meaning great trouble or suffering.
Because, as is all to plain to Christians who do suffer, the health, wealth and prosperity gospel, so beloved by TV evangelists, is an abomination. Don’t be misled – anyone who promises you that if you become a Christian you will experience your ‘best life now’ is selling you a false gospel. We should not listen to such lies but rather to Jesus himself, who promises us quite the opposite when he says:
‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.’ [Matthew 16:24].
Jesus is telling it as it is. Being a Christian, he says, is tough, it may even cost us our lives, as all but one of the disciples would one day discover. But having called us to die, Jesus, with his very next words, assures us that it will all be worth it in the end. He says:
‘For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.’ [Matthew 16:25].
And so, whilst in this life Christians will be grieved by various trials, they can nonetheless be comforted by the fact that in losing their life they will find it and one day discover the imperishable, undefiled and unfading inheritance that is waiting for them in heaven [1 Peter 1:4-6]. As such they know that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that will one day be revealed to them. [Romans 8:18]
And secondly, the fact that Mary suffered despite her being greatly favoured by God, may help us to answer that age old question so often raised as an objection by those who cannot conceive of a God of love in a world characterised by so much pain and suffering. That question goes like this: ‘Why do bad things happen to good people?’
The answer I believe is this: ‘So that good things can happen to bad people’. Because isn’t that the answer to why the worst possible thing happened to best possible person? Isn’t that why Jesus suffered and died on a cross?
Mary wasn’t perfect but she was a faithful believer in God. She suffered so that God could marvellously take on flesh and become a baby boy. And then, having grown up, the God-man went to the cross and there he suffered too. Why? So that the sins of the whole world could be forgiven.
And so the worst possible thing happened to the best possible person, so the best possible thing could happen to the worst possible people. People like the apostle Paul, who described himself as the chief of sinners, people like me who know themselves to be no better, and, perhaps, people like you who, no more deserving than anyone else, can still experience the joy of being adopted into God’s family and know there the warm embrace of a loving Heavenly Father.
Suffering then is real – but it’s not without meaning. Nor is it without purpose. As John Piper powerfully points out, if, as you’re walking through a hospital, you pass a room wherein comes the sound of someone screaming in pain, how you feel about what you’re hearing depends on whether you’re on an oncology ward or on a labour ward.
And so, just as the pain of childbirth ultimately gives way to the joy of new life, so too the pain and suffering of our day to day lives will one day give way to the inexpressible joy that befits a child of God.
Because Jesus’ death, to which Mary was herself an eyewitness and which was surely more painful for her than anything else she’d previously experienced, changes everything. For what she saw as she wept at the foot of the cross was the very thing that would one day ensure that her every tear would be wiped away. [Revelation 21:4]
And not only hers.
Mary was indeed highly favoured – and we who know and trust the child she bore…well we are highly favoured too.
*****
Easy choice for today’s song. Gabriel’s message, sung here by the Genesis 16.
Previously from ‘A Christmas Countdown’:
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 22’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 21’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 20’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 19’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 18’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 17’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 16’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 15, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 14’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 13’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 12’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 11’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 10’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 9’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 8’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 7’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 6’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 5’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 4’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 3’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 2’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 1’, click here
To read ‘An Advent Calendar – Complete’, click here
Other related posts:
To read ‘T.S. Eliot, Jesus and the Paradox of the Christian Life’, click here
To read “Luther and the global pandemic – on becoming a theologian of the cross”, click here
As any self respecting Sunday School student will tell you, if anyone churchy ever asks you a question as part of an all age address, the answer is always ‘Jesus’.
And so it was that, some years ago, when I found myself asked to speak to ‘the young people’ one Sunday in late December, I decided that, in order to throw them off the scent, I would frame my enquiry in the form of a multiple choice question. That way, I thought, no child experienced in ecclesiastical etiquette would be able to blurt out the usual stock answer and expect to have a chocolate sweet thrown at them by way of reward!
The question I posed was this:
Which of the following options has the most to do with Christmas: a) a Christmas tree, b) a mince pie, or c) a fire engine.
Now whether the youngster who answered my question did so on the basis of his deep theological understanding, or whether it was simply that he realised that, if one of the possible answers is vastly less likely than all the rest, then that answer is almost certainly the correct one, I do not know. But either way, he was spot on when he hollered ‘Fire engine’ and duly came close to losing an eye as a fun sized Mars bar flew in his direction with both the speed and precision of an Exocet missile.
Because, you see, the point of my short dialogue was simply to point out that Christmas is all about rescue. Or, at least, the arrival of a rescuer. Miss this and Christmas loses all of its significance.
But here’s a thought. Even if we are minded to remember what Christmas is really all about, could it be that even religious types sometimes get too excited about Christmas?
Imagine this. It’s night time and you wake up to discover your house is on fire. You’re trapped upstairs in your bedroom as the flames burn higher and higher. The heat is intense, the smoke impenetrable and the exit unreachable. All hope seems lost.
And then you hear the distant sound of sirens telling you that help is on its way. You run to the window and the glow of a flashing blue light confirms that the fire brigade is close by.
What a relief!
Sure enough, a bright red engine soon careers around the corner and stops outside your house whereupon the neighbours all gather around the crew celebrating their arrival. Everyone seems very happy. But then you realise that the firemen aren’t doing anything to rescue you and, to your horror, none of your neighbours seem all that concerned by the fact. They’re just delighted that the rescuers have actually arrived.
What a tragedy that would be.
Christmas is about the birth of Jesus but his arrival is only the start, because he came with a job description – he came with work to do. The angel who announced Jesus’s birth to the shepherds had it right that night when he said:
‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a saviour, who is Christ the Lord’ [Luke 2:10-11]
The good news is that a saviour has been born. At Christmas, God became man and was given the name of Jesus because he would ‘save his people from their sins’ [Matthew 1:21].
But remarkable though his arrival was, Jesus’ birth did not, in and of itself, effect a rescue. Because, essential though his birth was, it was his subsequent life, death and resurrection that went on to secure the salvation he had come to secure. By living a perfect life, a life which God graciously credits us as having lived, and dying a perfect death, one that, by bearing the punishment that we deserved, was sufficient to satisfy God’s justice, Jesus saves us from the wrath of God and clears the way for our adoption into God’s family as dearly loved children.
At Christmas, forgetting the rescue that Jesus was sent by God to bring about is as tragic, and foolish, as our delighting in the arrival of the fire brigade at our burning home but having no interest in them putting out the fire!
Which explains perhaps why, despite nowhere in the Bible being commanded to remember his birth, Christian’s are frequently exhorted to remember a certain person’s death.
And the name of that certain person was…?
Well you tell me – only please be sure to duck as you shout out his name!
*****
And so to a song. With all the airborne confectionary that’s flying about today, my first thought was to go with that song by Phil Collins that contains the line “I can feel it, coming in the air tonight’. But in the end I didn’t feel it quite cut the Yuletide muster and went instead for something similarly aerial but rather more Christmassy. So here’s Peter Auty singing the original version of ‘Walking in the Air’ from the 1982 animated film, ‘The Snowman’.
Previously from ‘A Christmas Countdown’:
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 20’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 19’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 18’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 17’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 16’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 15, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 14’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 13’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 12’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 11’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 10’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 9’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 8’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Part 7’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 6’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 5’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 4’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 3’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 2’, click here
To read ‘A Christmas Countdown – Day 1’, click here
To read ‘An Advent Calendar – Complete’, click here
Some musings 