As this week has proved once again, it only takes one disturbed person with a gun to wreak havoc in a school and kill innocent children. And regrettably there are many more individuals out there who have a similar desire to inflict such harm. Furthermore, the evidence is unequivocal – the correlation is strong: there really are more mass shootings in the U.S. where guns are easily available, and the ready access to such weapons really does play into the hands of those with such malevolent intent.
There are, of course, those who insist on a right to bear arms for their own protection – which one can, to a point, understand. But in part at least, the fact that weapons are so easily obtainable is the exact reason that makes it more necessary to be able to defend oneself. Moreover, most mass shooters are not experienced criminals with the wherewithal to obtain illegal weapons – instead they are those who need to be able to simply walk into a shop and buy them to carry out their lethal desires.
And so, as I said at the start, it’s not difficult – in fact it’s all too easy: gun control needs to be significantly tightened with, at the very least, background checks being undertaken, so called ‘red flag’ laws to temporarily restrict individuals of concern from owning a weapon, and the introduction of time delays between requesting a gun and actually obtaining one.
None of which should be seen as an attempt to curb rights – but an endeavour to save lives. Because the second amendment is all very well, but there are no second chances for those who get shot.
TAKE TWO
It’s not difficult – in fact it’s all too easy.
As this week has proved once again, it only takes one disturbed individual in charge of a country to wreak havoc on a neighbouring territory and kill innocent children – be that Ukraine or Gaza. And, regrettably I fear, there are plenty more individuals out there who have a similar desire to inflict such harm.
Furthermore, the evidence is unequivocal – the correlation is strong: dropping bombs on a residential area increases the number of civilians that are likely to be killed – which, in some instances at least, appears to be the desire of those with such malevolent intent.
Some will insist that such individuals were elected as a result of democratic processes and therefore have the right to rule in accordance with the mandate that they have been given. But leaving to one side questions regarding how free some elections really are, it remains the case that being voted for doesn’t necessarily make you fit to govern.
And so, as I said at the start, it’s not difficult – in fact it’s all too easy: controls need to be significantly tightened to ensure homicidal maniacs aren’t allowed to run for high office, background checks ought to be undertaken on individuals of concern, to check for example for any criminal record, and those with dictatorial ambitions need to be prohibited from ever holding high office.
Because, notwithstanding how impossible that surely is – people in pursuit of power can often be persuasive – wouldn’t it be great if we could ensure leaders had sufficient integrity to manage the influence they are given. Not as an attempt to curb rights – but to endeavour to save lives.
Because democracy is all very well, but there are no second chances for those murdered by the winner of a popular vote.
As this week has proved once again, it only takes one disturbed person with a gun to wreak havoc in a school and kill innocent children. And regrettably there are many more individuals out there who have a similar desire to inflict such harm. Furthermore, the evidence is unequivocal – the correlation is strong: there really are more mass shootings in the U.S. where guns are easily available, and the ready access to such weapons really does play into the hands of those with such malevolent intent.
There are, of course, those who insist on a right to bear arms for their own protection – which one can, to a point, understand. But in part at least, the fact that weapons are so easily obtainable is the exact reason that makes it more necessary to be able to defend oneself. Moreover, most mass shooters are not experienced criminals with the wherewithal to obtain illegal weapons – instead they are those who need to be able to simply walk into a shop and buy them to carry out their lethal desires.
And so, as I said at the start, it’s not difficult – in fact it’s all too easy: gun control needs to be significantly tightened with, at the very least, background checks being undertaken, so called ‘red flag’ laws to temporarily restrict individuals of concern from owning a weapon, and the introduction of time delays between requesting a gun and actually obtaining one.
None of which should be seen as an attempt to curb rights – but an endeavour to save lives. Because the second amendment is all very well, but there are no second chances for those who get shot.
TAKE TWO
It’s not difficult – in fact it’s all too easy.
As this week has proved once again, it only takes one disturbed individual in charge of a country to wreak havoc on a neighbouring territory and kill innocent children – be that Ukraine or Gaza. And, regrettably I fear, there are plenty more individuals out there who have a similar desire to inflict such harm.
Furthermore, the evidence is unequivocal – the correlation is strong: dropping bombs on a residential area increases the number of civilians that are likely to be killed – which, in some instances at least, appears to be the desire of those with such malevolent intent.
Some will insist that such individuals were elected as a result of democratic processes and therefore have the right to rule in accordance with the mandate that they have been given. But leaving to one side questions regarding how free some elections really are, it remains the case that being voted for doesn’t necessarily make you fit to govern.
And so, as I said at the start, it’s not difficult – in fact it’s all too easy: controls need to be significantly tightened to ensure homicidal maniacs aren’t allowed to run for high office, background checks ought to be undertaken on individuals of concern, to check for example for any criminal record, and those with dictatorial ambitions need to be prohibited from ever holding high office.
Because, notwithstanding how impossible that surely is – people in pursuit of power can often be persuasive – wouldn’t it be great if we could ensure leaders had sufficient integrity to manage the influence they are given. Not as an attempt to curb rights – but to endeavour to save lives.
Because democracy is all very well, but there are no second chances for those murdered by the winner of a popular vote.
To read ‘It’s not difficult – take two’, click here
‘I’ll go along with the charade until I can think my way out’
Bob Dylan
Some years ago, a patient presented at the practice where I used to work having been sent to us by a doctor from the local minor injuries unit. Having had an ECG which had revealed a minor abnormality, she had been advised to request an urgent blood test to determine her blood levels for a certain heavy metal. It subsequently turned out, however, that the automated report had attributed the ECG’s irregularities not, as had been believed, to lead poisoning but merely to lead positioning!
It was an embarrassing mistake, made by one who clearly hadn’t been thinking. But before we laugh too loudly, I wonder how many times we have acted similarly.
In an increasingly hectic world, it is all too easy for us to stop thinking for ourselves and fall into stereotypical patterns of behaviour based on the assumptions we make as a consequence. Though they may speed our decision making, such cognitive errors too often serve our own purposes rather than those of others, and make us quick to draw conclusions which steer us down the familiar paths that we find most comfortable to travel.
Might it be that we too have stopped thinking properly, failed to see what was in plain sight and, ignoring our own responsibility to help, chosen to pass blindly by on the other side? On occasions, I undoubtedly have – and so I find myself asking why that might be.
Of course the easy answer to that question would be to say that it’s because I’m either too lazy, too busy, or too uncaring to properly address the problems that are presented to me. And again, I don’t doubt that, if I am honest, each of those explanations have almost certainly sometimes been true.
But another explanation might be that, rather than face the distress of a problem that cannot be solved, it has sometimes been easier for me to not notice what I have been unable to put right.
In his book, ‘How to think’, Alan Jacobs writes of how, once established, the consensus is hard to challenge because there is great comfort in sharing the commonly held position. He quotes Marilynne Robinson who suggests that we have a ‘collective eagerness to disparage, without knowledge or information’, alternative or unpopular views ‘when the reward is the pleasure of sharing an attitude one knows is socially approved.’
If this is true, we are predisposed, to unthinkingly endorse the view that every problem can be solved be that by adequate education or inexorable scientific advance, sufficient financial investment or wise political intervention. Because not only is this what we would all like to believe, it is also a view that is liable to make us unpopular if we disagree.
And we do, of course, all so like to be liked.
And so we are all invested in not thinking because it would feel too uncomfortable to disagree and, as Robinson puts it, ‘unauthorised views are in effect punished by incomprehension…as a consequence of a “hypertrophic instinct for consensus”.’
Jacobs asserts that if we want to think, then we are going to have to shrink that ‘hypertrophic instinct for consensus’. But, he says, ‘given the power of the instinct, it is extremely unlikely that [we will be] willing to go to that trouble.’
Jacobs believes that the ‘instinct for consensus is magnified and intensified in our era because we deal daily with a wild torrent of what claims to be information but is often nonsense’. That is certainly true in our world of relentless 24-hour news cycles, multiplying social media platforms, and artificially created polemics in which nonsensical opinions are too often unjustifiably imposed upon us.
Jacobs quotes T.S. Eliot who, almost a century ago, wrote, ‘When there is so much to be known, when there are so many fields of knowledge in which the same words are used with different meanings, when everyone knows a little about a great many things, it becomes increasingly difficult for anyone to know whether he knows what he is talking about or not.’ And in such circumstances, ‘when we do not know, or when we do not know enough, we tend always to substitute emotions for thoughts.’
That is, confused about what to believe, we will default to what feels comfortable and agree with the consensus – what is the perceived wisdom.
Could it be then that when we are presented with a problem we cannot fix, a problem for which we do not have the answer, the cognitive dissonance we subsequently experience serves to make it less likely that we will see that problem at all and so end up seeing only those with which we feel we can deal?
And as a consequence, might we see asylum seekers as criminals rather than individuals who need our help? Might we see dictators as powerful individuals we can do a deal with rather than those we should oppose? And might we see members of another nation as enemies who need to be killed rather than children who need to be fed.
Jacobs believes that ‘anyone who claims not to be shaped by such forces is almost certainly self-deceived.’ We are social beings who need to feel accepted and, since agreeing feels good, we are, therefore, prone to toe the line. ‘For most of us’, Jacobs suggests, ‘the question is whether we have even the slightest reluctance to drift along with the flow. The person who genuinely wants to think will have to develop strategies for recognising the subtlest of social pressures…The person who wants to think will have to practice patience and master fear.’
So could we do that? Could we practise patience and master fear and thus resist the ‘hypertrophic instinct’ which insists that we have an answer to all our problems.
I hope so.
But it will mean feeling uncomfortable at times – as speaking the truth often is.
It will mean giving up the charade that we have the answers and having to look outside of ourselves for help. And, recognising our own weakness, it will mean choosing to sit alongside those who suffer and, for a while at least, sharing their distress with them.
And that would be a far more thoughtful way to behave.
This week, as part of my critique of Israel’s behaviour towards its Palestinian neighbours, I made use of the biblical command that teaches us that, unlike the attitudes that we are currently witnessing in the Middle East, we should love our neighbour as ourselves.
But this appeal, found in both the Old and New Testament, to act with compassion to those who are outside our own in group, is not meant to be heard just by those who embrace the Judaeo-Christian belief system, because it is, of course, a version of the so called ‘Golden Rule’ that is found in many of the world’s religions and which is generally accepted as a valuable guiding principle by those outside of any faith community.
And so, before we adopt an air of complacent self righteousness and congratulate ourselves for not, on the one hand, being involved in terrorist activities against Israel or, on the other, complicit in war crimes against Palestine, we need to consider our attitude to those from overseas who are seeking, in our country, shelter from the oppression that they are experiencing in theirs.
That their arrival brings challenges that will need to be addressed is, of course, without doubt, but just as the wars in Ukraine and the Middle East continue endlessly on despite all the talk of peace, so too do we still hear from those who speak disparagingly of refugees and asylum seekers in a way that, even if isn’t overtly racist, is almost always ‘refugee-ist’.
By which I mean that they are speaking negatively of those in need, not as a result of having any personal knowledge of them, or indeed their situation, but simply because of the genuine pressing needs that they undeniably have and inevitably, and not unreasonably, bring with them.
And that simply isn’t good enough.
For whilst it might be convenient to fall for the illusory correlation, that results in acts that occur rarely being perceived, because of their salience, as more common than they really are when carried out by members of a minority group, the truth is that ignorance of out groups too often results in them being disliked and mistrusted more than is in any way justified.
Or put more simply: to tar a whole people group with one brush because of the actions of just one individual is wrong.
And since to do so is unjustified, it is, because it’s also hypocritical, unworthy of those who are quick to condemn the unjust acts being carried out currently by those on either side of the conflict in the Middle East.
But it’s more than just unfair – it’s unloving too.
And as such it’s a behaviour that is similarly unworthy of any who call themselves a Christian, a Jew, or a Muslim, any who call themselves a Hindu, a Buddhist, or a Sikh, any who call themselves a Shintoist, a Zoroastrian, or a Confucian.
And it’s also unworthy of any of us who, considering ourselves to be part of the human race, like to be considered in any way humane.
Related posts:
To read ‘On the crises in the Middle East’, click here
Yesterday I was asked to write something about the situation in the Middle East – the request coming from someone who, having presumably read some of my posts on Ukraine, felt that there were other conflicts in the world that are worthy of comment. And they’re right. Because whilst my work means that my focus has been on the war in Ukraine, that does not mean I am unconcerned about the events in Gaza.
Of course there may be those who, if they read what follows, will say the causes of the fighting in the Middle East are complex and that I clearly don’t fully understand the problems. All of which may be true. But though the matter is indeed a complicated one, there are some things which are easy to comprehend and some things are plain for us all to see. And first amongst these is the fact that the killing has got to stop.
So let me start by stating two things that really ought to go without saying. The first is that the attack on the Israeli people on October 7th 2023 was totally unjustified, no matter the perceived provocation.
And the second is this – any criticism of Israel on my part is no more antisemitic than my being a Christian is Islamophobic. On the contrary, it simply means that I profoundly disagree with the actions on both sides of the divide, something that you are free to do with my opinion without fear of me hating you as a result.
So with all that said, here’s why I am so deeply opposed to what Israel is now doing.
First of all is the fact that, as we all know, two wrongs don’t make a right. And if two wrongs don’t make a right, then neither do 62,000 wrongs – the current number of predominantly Palestinian civilians (40-50% of whom, as stated in UN reports, were women and children) who, according to Gaza’s Health Ministry, have been killed by Israeli action since that appalling and inexcusable Hamas attack of October 2023 which saw around 1200 people senselessly lose their lives, and another 251 taken hostage. Because whilst it’s undeniably true that Israel has a right to defend itself, that number, which is not all that higher than even the more conservative estimates of the death toll, is surely one that suggests that theirs has been a disproportionate response.
And it’s not as though those deaths are quick and painless executions. On the contrary, many of them are long drawn out affairs, the agony of those succumbing to starvation matched only by those who have to watch their children waste away in such inhuman and harrowing conditions.
And if Israel wants to avoid a charge of genocide, an accusation that the International Court of Justice has said is plausible, then it would undoubtedly be helpful if, instead of blocking aid convoys and destroying civilian hospitals, for example, they acted in ways that weren’t so easily interpreted as genocidal.
Because whilst the shooting of one person seeking food at a distribution site might conceivably be seen as a tragic accident, and the shooting of two can at best be viewed as indicative of gross negligence on the part of those providing security, when such tragic ‘accidents’ occur with monotonous and monstrous regularity then one can’t help but see it as perhaps the result of a policy decision.
Furthermore, if Israel is confident that it can defend itself against such claims, might it not help their cause if they allowed news agencies into the country so reporters could independently report on what the Israeli government presumably considers is acceptable behaviour.
Though why members of the press would want to risk being the target of yet more Israeli missiles is anyone’s guess. Because, given the at least 191 media workers who the Committee to Protect Journalists say have already been killed, some of whom having been targeted in Israeli attacks, it would suggest that that is exactly what they would be if, by reporting what they’d seen, they said something that the Israeli government would rather they’d kept forever to themselves.
And then there are those inevitable religious considerations which, whilst I understand will not be of interest to all, are nonetheless important because, irrespective of how true the claim is that religion is the cause of most of the world’s conflicts, it’s undoubtedly the case that distorted theology has sometimes been used to justify war – as we’re now seeing in the Middle East.
But as is always the case, those who blame God for their unrighteousness acts only ever compound their guilt.
So what are the religious considerations that I am referring to. Well, there are those, including some Christians, who support Israel’s actions on the basis of a belief that the disputed territory was promised to them by God.
But accepting that the question of land ownership is a highly emotive issues and important to all who contest borders, recognising that even within Christian circles the matter has long been debated, and respecting those who hold a different opinion to my own, it is my belief such a view comes as a result of misunderstanding what the Bible says and thus failing to distinguish between geographical Israel and spiritual Israel.
Because, though important, geographical Israel is less significant than spiritual Israel, which, as the apostle Paul, drawing on Old Testament passages, repeatedly points out is made up of only those who put their faith in Jesus. [Romans 9:6-8; Galatians 3:28-29, 6:15-16]
So then, with Christ more important than a piece of land, who you belong to is far more important than where you live, and it is those who are ‘in Christ’ that make up true Israel, and the land that believers are promised is not just a small area of land in the Middle East, but the whole of creation that will, when it is fully realised, be part of the Kingdom of God.
Which as well as explaining why Jesus himself said ‘blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth’ [Matthew 5:5], it also makes plain why we are to take the gospel to the very ends of the earth [Acts 1:8] so that those from every tribe and nation, including both Israelis and Palestinians, will one day be a part of it. [Revelation 7:9]
Furthermore the Kingdom of God is a kingdom that will not be brought in by violence. Let’s not make the same tragic mistake of the medieval crusaders who, hundreds of years ago, sought to impose Christianity on others by military means. Because far from being realised by force, the kingdom of God will be established by the proclamation of the gospel – a message of unparalleled love which speaks of one who, far from killing those who opposed him, was willing to die for them.
For that is what Jesus did. Because his death on the cross for us was an atoning sacrifice that secured the forgiveness of all those who repent of their sins – even the brutal atrocities that have been so much a part of day to day life in the Middle East. None of which is to say that Israel has no right to exist – only that it has no right to do so at the expense of Palestine.
But lest I be accused of making things unnecessarily complicated, let me finish with some simple, but no less essential theology – namely that to love your neighbour is not just something Jesus said. Because it is in fact an Old Testament command that therefore surely applies to Israel too.
And if they seek to justify their actions on the basis of being the people of God, then they should first take note of what He says and endeavour to act lovingly towards those they consider their enemies – the Palestinians who live alongside them.
Because, as I said at the outset, the killing must stop – a ceasefire must be agreed and a concerted effort must be made, on both sides, to find a solution to what is an age old problem and so ensure a just and lasting peace.
Related posts:
To read, “At Halloween – a nightmare in the Middle East’, click here.
This week somebody wasn’t listened to and, as a result, the people whom he represents weren’t listened to either.
Instead, without Zelensky present, Trump and Putin were left to discuss the future of Ukraine alone, undisturbed by the voice of those whose future they were deciding. And so, though no deal was reached, and recognising that negotiations are set to continue, there are many who, like Zelensky himself, warned that his absence invalidated the meeting and feared that those with power sought to wield it for their own benefit rather than the benefit of others.
What a contrast to the situation that we who trust in God find ourselves – for we who are in Christ have an advocate with the Father who is interceding on our behalf with the one who is the sovereign Lord of the universe.
What a contrast to us who having received the Holy Spirit know that, in our weakness, He helps us when we don’t know what to pray.
And what a contrast to the one who hears us – our Almighty God who, because He cares for us, invites us to cast our anxieties on Him and promises to work all things together for our good and His glory.
This week, when they met in Alaska, Trump and Putin were far away from President Zelensky and the people of Ukraine. But God is near to the brokenhearted. He will not break a bruised reed or quench a smouldering wick. On the contrary, those who are faint and weary, those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.
Which is why, irrespective of their true intentions, I am glad that it is not world leaders who are in ultimate control today, but the omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent God, who is as infinitely loving as He is infinitely wise.
And though He will no doubt continue to sometimes act in ways I do not understand, in ways I would not choose for Him to act myself, I am nonetheless glad that He will remain sovereign for all eternity too.
Related posts:
To read ‘Luther and the War in Ukraine – on becoming a theologian of the cross’, click here
Last week, a GP surgery in my hometown of Wellington announced that it would be closing next month. And it’s not the first – because, according to recent trends, it’s estimated that more than a thousand others have shut their doors across the UK in the last five years. Add to this the approximately six and a quarter million people who are currently waiting for consultant-led care, a number that, according to recent NHS estimates, appears to be on the increase, and it becomes evident that the National Health Service really is in crisis – and has been for some considerable time.
On the eve of the 1997 election, the year I became a GP partner, Tony Blair declared that the nation had ’24 hours to save the NHS.’ Today, nearly thirty years on, like those who lauded the emperor who paraded about town in his nonexistent new clothes, some politicians pretend they cannot see that the NHS is in the altogether perilous state of near collapse. One wonders if they have completed a DNAR form for the NHS without the agreement of those who love it most.
Be that as it may, what is certainly true is that the NHS cannot do all that it is increasingly being asked to do with each successive year. This is for at least two reasons.
Firstly, as science advances, more things become theoretically possible. But as Isaac Asimov once said, ‘The saddest aspect of life right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.’ This is still true – not all that can be done should be done.
The second reason is, I think, more fundamental. We live in an increasingly anxiety ridden society.
Henry Thoreau wrote: ‘The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation, and go to the grave with the song still in them.’
Undoubtedly some of us are indeed desperate. Lacking the fulfilment that we long for, but don’t quite know how to realise, we are increasingly anxious not to miss out on whatever it is that would give us satisfaction. By idolising absolute health, anxiety rises as our longing for the elimination of every problem – big or small, real or imagined – inevitably goes unmet.
The constant endeavouring to solve every problem is exhausting and counterproductive, for both those with the problem and those trying to do the solving.
In the last album he released before his death in 2016, Leonard Cohen sang: ‘There is a lullaby for suffering and a paradox to blame’. He was right. Because facing our weaknesses and accepting our suffering can be paradoxically comforting.
This is, however, a difficult philosophy to convey and one that is harder still to convince people of. So anxiety persists, together with its lonely companion, its accomplished accomplice, depression.
Anxiety in all its forms is now so pervasive that I think it easily represented the most common problem presented to me in my final years working as a GP.
Firstly, there were those who presented with frank anxiety – by which I do not mean to suggest that they had an irrational fear of Frank’s – be that Sinatra, Zappa or D. Roosevelt. I mean, instead, that they presented with clinical symptoms of generalised anxiety or panic attacks.
Then there were those concerned about symptoms that they feared represented serious underlying disease. And they were often hard to reassure, so twitched were they by the twitches that they experienced.
And then there were those whose presentation generated anxiety in me and those I worked alongside. Because healthcare professionals can also be left worried that they are missing something serious and fear what that might mean both for the patient and their own reputations – reputations that, myself included, they cherish, perhaps, more highly than they ought.
Put all these together and it seemed that almost every consultation had an agenda, hidden or otherwise, driven by anxiety.
I wonder how much of this is tied up with the prevailing postmodern notion of relative truth and its recent spawned offspring, ‘alternative facts’. We all know how recent years have been difficult, characterised as they have been by a global pandemic, financial difficulties, and numerous escalating conflicts, all of which perhaps do give us good reason to be uneasy.
But also concerning, and perhaps even more so, is the fact that a few years ago the Oxford English Dictionary made ‘post-truth’ its word of the year – a decision that reflected that public policy is being decided based on appeals to personal emotions rather than objective facts.
Paul Weller and ‘The Jam’ once sang, ‘The public gets what the public wants’ – and it seems today the public is at least sometimes promised what it feels it wants, independently of what it needs, because it is politically expedient so to do. And so I am left wondering if all the anxiety we see, and feel, stems from the fact that, along with the still clean bathwater of objective truth, we have thrown out the baby of any sense of assurance.
If nothing is certain, how can we not be anxious about everything – and how can we be reassured about anything? Because, with experts no longer trusted to know anything, what they know to be the case is now no more authoritative than what others only ‘feel’ to be true.
Our supposedly equally valid opinions serve only to trap us in a cage of constant concern.
Some years ago, I was surprised when my assurances, that a lesion on a patient’s scalp was a harmless seborrheic wart, were not accepted by the patient because her hairdresser had felt it was a skin cancer. But then, if truth is relative, my ‘expert’ opinion (and I use the term lightly) has no more authority over that of a non-specialist.
Similarly, another patient of mine once challenged a consultant cardiologist’s opinion that her ECG was normal, as she felt her symptoms were consistent with what she had read of Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome. The objectively normal ECG, and the expert opinion of the consultant on that ECG, were both at odds with the patient’s feelings. And so a second opinion was requested, one that, when it was declined, prompted the patient to write directly to the consultant expressing her belief that her concerns were being ignored.
This notion extends to the anxieties that health care professionals experience too. If truth is relative, how can they have any confidence in what they consider to be true either – and if the patient feels differently to them, how can they say that they are right and their patient is wrong?
I am aware, of course, that there are, inevitably, times when a diagnosis is in doubt, when the truth is uncertain, but it sometimes seems to me that we are no longer prepared to accept that those working in the NHS know anything for sure.
And that includes the doctors!
Because in a society suspicious of intellectualism, the learned are themselves suspicious of their learning. I sometimes saw that in myself. Too concerned that my patients be happy with my opinion, my clinical diagnoses sometimes needed to be malleable, tempered to acknowledge the validity of the patients’ opinion regardless of how lacking in objectivity that opinion might be.
I doubt it was only me who has, on occasions, found myself kneeling at a patient’s feet and, whilst examining their sylph-like ankles, heard them reluctantly murmuring: “They are a little swollen I suppose”.
Of course it is no wonder that I and my former colleagues sometimes behaved like this, given how, for years, it has been driven into us that we should be more ‘patient centred’ – when of course, what we should have been urged to be was more ‘truth centred’.
But it’s arrogant to claim to be right about anything these days – facts prove nothing. In a consumer society, the customer is always right. Is it any wonder then that, as a result of medicine being opened up to market forces, the result has been that the patient now is always right too?
And if feelings are what are important, then what others feel about us becomes every bit as much an indicator of who we are as what we feel about ourselves. After all, a satisfactory review is sacrosanct – I’m OK, if and only if, you’re OK with me.
But if everybody’s feelings are different, how can any of us be OK – since how can any of us be OK with everyone? How can we make everybody feel positively toward us when they all have different criteria for what it is that would cause them to feel in such a way?
Anxiety is, I think, largely, a fear of unhappiness in the future which leads inevitably to us being unhappy in the here and now. That’s why anxiety and depression are such common bedfellows.
With the loss of religious belief, and with it the hope of a better time and place to come, society no longer is prepared to accept that we must sometimes wait for happiness. In an age when everything is instant, waiting is not an option – we must be happy now.
But in a materialistic, consumerist society, which daily advertises to us our discontentment by displaying what it insists we need, but do not have, to be happy, it is no surprise that we are anxious that life is passing us by, that we are missing out on being fulfilled today.
And of course it’s not just material goods that our society consumes. We consume health – it is the ‘must have’ we assume and insist upon. No suffering, however small, ought to be tolerated. We must have health and we must have it now – not next month, nor next week, not even tomorrow. The doctor must see me now – be it Tuesday morning or Sunday afternoon.
And so the National Health Service has become the National Health Slave even as the NHS itself, colluding with society that it can meet its greatest needs, slavishly insists patients behave in ways that current medical opinion dictates.
Don’t smoke, don’t drink, don’t fail to exercise, don’t eat just four of your five a day, and whatever you do, don’t forget your Vitamin D.
Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t – and you might just live forever.
And so it seems to me that what this all ultimately boils down to the existential question of death. It is the one thing certain about life but we, increasingly perhaps, try to pretend that this too is uncertain as we pursue eternal life through medicine, lifestyle adaptations, and sentimental and fanciful notions of how those who undeniably have died, somehow live on.
In a world where nothing is certain, the certainty of death is above all to be doubted.
But we need to face facts.
Irrespective of how much money is pumped into the NHS to fund all that medicine increasingly can do, irrespective of how long GP surgeries are open or how short waiting times in A&E departments become, and irrespective of how much we heed medical advice and adjust our lifestyles accordingly, we will all one day die. And irrespective of what we may or may not believe about life after death, if we are to find any happiness in this life, we need to stop pretending otherwise.
We must stop believing that what we do will ever prevent the inevitable.
And so, rather than always looking to do more, if we want a population that is healthy in the fullest sense of the word, I think the NHS must judiciously look to do less and not, for example, insist on pointlessly prescribing a statin to my 94 year old Dad whose considerable age far outweighs that of his cholesterol, irrespective of how elevated it might be.
But this should not be seen as a call to abandon the NHS. On the contrary, it needs to be funded adequately – in order to do what a long hard look determines is objectively found to be important rather than that which is subjectively felt to be urgent.
We must stop pandering to ourselves who are too often intolerant of even the slightest inconvenience or hardship, and we must stop foolishly believing that by attending to our cholesterol, blood pressure, and vitamin D levels, all our future suffering can be prevented.
Why?
Because a good life is not solely determined by the absence of suffering – now or in the future. Unrealistic attempts to deny the inevitability of death all too often serve only as an expensive and time consuming distraction – one that compels us to look down at the temporary and trivial whilst neglecting to look up at the significant and satisfying.
We all need to learn to be less obsessed with the mundane and consider instead the transcendent. Only then will we cease from enduring an existence weighed down by anxiety and depression, and start enjoying a life buoyed by contentment and joy.
Having just got back from Poland, I am well aware of the many Polish words that are difficult to pronounce. But when it comes to pronunciation, the name of the Welsh town, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch must surely rank as one of the most difficult words to say.
But what do you think is the hardest word to mean?
For Elton John it seemed to be ‘sorry’, and his suggestion is certainly a strong one given how, when we do manage to force that word of apology out of our mouth, more often than not it is accompanied by a ‘but’ of self-justification, or an ‘if’ that implies oversensitivity on the part of the one we are reluctantly conceding we may have hurt.
But as for me, I’m inclined to disagree with the aforementioned bespectacled pianist because, like Jesus, I believe there are some things that are even more difficult to say.
I’m thinking here of the conversation Jesus had with some scribes in Matthew 9:1-8. Four men had brought their friend to Jesus and had gone to some considerable trouble to do so. Because the room where Jesus was preaching was so crowded, they lowered their paralysed companion through a hole they’d made in its roof.
And then, having seen his friend’s faith, Jesus said to the paralytic, ‘Take heart my son, your sins are forgiven.’ [Matthew 9:2]
Now when the scribes heard Jesus say this, they were shocked. They knew that only God could forgive sins and, understandably enough, considered Jesus to be blaspheming by speaking in a way that only the Almighty can.
And it was then that Jesus, aware of what they were thinking, asked the scribes a question that wasn’t dissimilar to the one that we have been considering above.
‘Why do you think evil in your hearts?’, he said to them, ‘For which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’? [Matthew 9:4-5]
Perhaps then Elton John was at least in the right ball park when he suggested that ‘sorry’ was the hardest word – because here Jesus is talking about how difficult it is to pronounce forgiveness.
But before we rush on to a conclusion, let’s consider what Jesus is saying here more closely. And let’s try and answer his question ourselves since, having asked it of the scribes, Jesus didn’t give them a chance to answer it themselves.
At first glance it may seem easier for Jesus to say to the man that his sins have been forgiven because, in so doing, he’d not be required to provide any visible evidence to back his words up. This would have been in stark contrast to telling the paralytic to pick up his bed and walk which, had the man remained lame, would risk exposing Jesus to public humiliation. In that sense, at least, to say ‘Rise, take up your bed and walk’, would be the harder thing for Jesus to say.
But for Jesus to mean it when he said that the man’s sins were forgiven, it would subsequently require him to suffer and die in the place of the paralytic. He would have to take on himself the punishment the disabled man deserved for all the wrong things he had ever done. So in that sense, because of the greater sacrifice required, ‘Your sins are forgiven’ would have been the far harder thing for Jesus to say.
We are left then with a dilemma – one that Jesus’ next words help us to resolve. This is what he said.
‘But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins…Rise, pick up your bed and go home.’ [Matthew 9:6]
First of all, let me be clear about what is the most important thing to appreciate about what is going on here. Jesus is responding to the scribes questioning his authority to forgive sins. They rightly understand that only God can do such a thing and so, by miraculously healing the paralytic, Jesus is proving to them that he was God in human form.
But because of the way Jesus phrases his statement, it seems to me that, whilst not more difficult for Jesus to bring about, the man’s healing is of huge significance as well, demonstrating as it does something more about what Jesus would achieve through his death on the cross.
Let me explain. If I wanted to prove to you that I could do something difficult, I wouldn’t provide you with evidence of something that was easier for me to do. On the contrary, I would provide evidence of my ability to do something far harder. So, for example, I wouldn’t prove my ability to calculate the area of a triangle, by reciting the two times table but, to prove my ability to perform differential calculus, I might present you with my A’ level maths certificate.
In the same way therefore, in order to prove his authority to forgive sins, Jesus chooses to do something that is both visible and verifiable too which, at the same time, demonstrates his ability to do something beyond even the forgiveness of sins.
Now don’t misunderstand me. I am not saying that healing the paralysed man was more difficult than forgiving his sins. On the contrary, nothing has ever been done that was more difficult than what Jesus did by his substitutionary death on the cross. Even so, the healing of the man, offers us an even fuller picture of what was actually achieved there.
Because the forgiveness that Jesus secures for us is just the beginning of the fuller restoration that he will one day bring about. That is to say, our eternal healing is not just spiritual – it is emotional and physical too.
As such, not only is the healing of the paralytic proof that Jesus really can deal with our sin, it also anticipates the consummation that will surely come about as a result of that forgiveness.
The Kingdom of God is something that Matthew was particularly concerned about when he wrote his gospel. And here we are given a picture of what that Kingdom will be like – a kingdom that is both ‘already’ present and ‘not yet’ complete.
When Jesus first walked the earth, he performed signs that showed how his kingdom was breaking into the world that, up until then, had been under the rule of a more malign dictator. And, at the same time, he gave us a foretaste of what his eternal rule will look like when he returns to Earth and his Kingdom comes in all its fullness.
Because the fulfilment of our forgiveness is more than freedom from guilt and shame – rather it culminates in everlasting life, lived in perfect resurrection bodies, in a world that is absolutely without blemish.
Which is good news for those who are currently finding life hard – for it is the assurance that all their suffering will one day come to an end. And it’s good news too for those who, growing old, are now approaching death – for it is the assurance that one day we all will be resurrected to enjoy eternity in glorified bodies.
So then, when it comes to which of the two things were harder for Jesus to say, rather than either/or, it’s both/and.
For whilst it was indeed difficult for Jesus to forgive his sins, by healing the paralytic Jesus shows that, as God, he not only has the authority to do so, but the power to bring about something even more wonderful – by demonstrating what our forgiveness will ultimately lead to.
What then is the hardest word to say? For us perhaps it is ‘sorry,. But for Jesus, to forgive our sins, was infinitely more difficult, and immeasurably more costly.
But he did it just the same.
And so, just as it was for the paralysed man so it will be for us. Just as his healing flowed from the forgiveness that he received, so too will ours. Jesus does more than simply forgive us. For by his death and subsequent resurrection he has also guaranteed our future – one in which we will not only be sinless, but wholly healthy too.
For there is a day coming when ‘the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise.’ [1 Thessalonians 4:16]
It’s been a super week in Poland and as our time draws to an end we’ve a lot to look back on fondly.
Thank you so much to everyone who’s made our time in Poland such an enjoyable one…
Andrew each day with his sporting endeavours, Being so busy whatever the weather. Teaching the children ‘bout Jesus the King, These were a few of our favourite things.
Elijah too with his biceps so bulging, Plans that Emilka kept daily divulging Sharing the hope that the gospel it brings, These were a few of our favourite things.
Both Clare and Esther teaching Irish dancing, Stories of Jesus always so entrancing, All falling silent each time the bell rings, These were a few of our favourite things.
Ruth and Kaye too, all the craft they’ve inspired, The Polish team that we’ve hugely admired, Sharing how God takes us under his wings, These were a few of our favourite things.
Pete eating dog food – that’s truly disgusting Helping the children in God to be trusting, Speaking the truth to which all of us cling, These were a few of our favourite things.
Two of our team with their accents so Brummie, Food on the tables that’s always so yummy, Songs before dinner that everyone sings, These were a few of our favourite things.
All of the laughing and all of the joking, Slipping and sliding on surfaces soaking, Pizzas we made with their tasty toppings, These were a few of our favourite things.
As our time ends, Having made friends, And we fly away, Remembering all of the fun that we’ve had, We’ll say a big ‘Dziękuję’
More favourite things:
To read ‘The Sound of Hector – his favourite things’, click here
Last Sunday, the Observer newspaper published an article by an investigative journalist that seemed to cast considerable doubt on the veracity of Raynor Winn’s ‘unflinchingly honest’ account of how she and her husband Moth walked the 630 miles of the southwest coast path.
For those who don’t know, ‘The Salt Path’ became a bestseller and was subsequently made into a film and, whilst not universally admired, seemed to offer huge hope to many that, no matter what life sometimes throws at you, be that severe financial hardship leading to homelessness, or being given a terminal diagnosis, it can all nonetheless be overcome by one’s own positive endeavours – in this case, the going on a long walk.
Since last weekend’s revelations that the couples homelessness may have been the result of the author previously having been guilty of embezzlement, and the severity of her husbands illness might possibly have been overplayed, social media has been awash with those who, like myself, have felt the need to comment.
These range from those who are supportive of Winn; through those who, as with my own, hopefully light hearted response, have tried to inject a little humour into the situation; to those who have nothing but contempt for both the author and what she has written.
So at the risk of adding yet more noise to what is already a voluminous debate, I’d like to comment further, not on the accuracy or otherwise of what has been written in both the Observer and the ‘The Salt Path’ itself, but rather what has been written by those in response.
Because it seems to me that the two opposing groups may have rather more in common than immediately meets the eye.
On the one hand we have those who support Winn and who rightly point out that nobody is perfect. More questionable though is their view that it doesn’t really matter if what she has written is true if, as a result of her words, she has provided people with a little hope.
There are at least two problems with such an analysis. Firstly there is such a thing as justice and, whilst there is most certainly a place for forgiveness, there first needs to be evidence of sorrow for one’s wrongdoing, if that is, the importance of justice is to be both recognised and maintained. And secondly, hope based on a lie is a false hope – and a false hope is no hope at all.
Which brings me to those who on the other hand are vehemently opposed to Winn. Because if what I’ve read this week is anything to go by, what has really angered them is the fact that the hope that they thought they’d been offered appears to have been unfounded.
Both groups then want to believe that it is possible for an individual to redeem themself. Where they differ is that, whereas Winn’s supporters continue to believe that whilst dismissing evidence to the contrary as irrelevant, Winn’s opposers are troubled by the fact that what they wanted to believe was founded on a lie.
All of which leads me to something else I read on social media this week, in a post that suggested that we all have to go it alone – that not only is everybody else too busy thinking about themselves to spare a thought for you, neither is anyone ever going to come to your rescue.
But that deeply depressing place is where the philosophy of ‘The Salt Path’ will ultimate lead – which is, I believe, why the book is a lie, irrespective of how true it might actually be.
Because I believe that there is someone coming to save us, and that there are many who, irrespective of whether they recognise the fact, are made in his image and thus do care about others and are prepared to lend us a helping hand.
But of course, wanting to believe something positive no more makes it true, than not wanting to believe something negative, makes it false. Furthermore, I am not so naive as to be unaware that there will be those who consider what I believe to be true is less attested to than what’s been written in either ‘The Salt Road’ or last weekend’s Observer.
Even so, I believe there is a path that can only be started down through a narrow gate – one that leads where the one in whose footsteps I seek to follow has already gone. And where it leads to is a cross where not only is forgiveness found, but genuine hope for the future too – as a result of the resurrection three days later of the one who suffered and died there.
And the reason I believe all this is not just because it’s something I want to be true, but because it’s something that I consider I have good reason to believe – on account of the overwhelming evidence for the histories of the empty tomb, compelling 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 existence.
And thats why, irrespective of any merits it may or may not have, rather than following ‘The Salt Path’ I, by God’s amazing grace, hope to continue to follow instead the one who is not only the way and the truth, but also the one who surely leads me along the path to eternal life
‘Through many dangers, Toils and snares, I have already come; ‘Tis grace hath brought Me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home.’
Related posts;
To read “Hope comes from believing the promises of God”, click here
To read ‘The Resurrection – is it just rhubarb?’, click here
No week’s holiday would be complete without time spent wandering around a graveyard. So that’s what we did today, spending a pleasant half hour looking for the final resting place of my wife’s relatives, believed to be in the burial ground surrounding St Mary’s Church in Carew.
But our quest was in vain, the inscriptions on most of the headstones too weathered and worn to be read by modern day passers by.
Which made me think of how all but a very few of us will eventually be either lost to those who one day might come searching for us or, alternatively, simply anonymous to those frequenting such places – as were the bones of those who, in centuries past, uncovered them whilst digging new graves, only to subsequently be deposited in the charnel-house, along with the remains of countless other long forgotten lives.
So wouldn’t it be great if there was someone who not only knew us and remembered us in death, but also could be trusted to keep the promise he has made his followers – to one day come and take us to be with him where he is.
As I believe there is. [John 14:3]
Later, we visited the Lilly Ponds at Bosherton and, from there, walked part of the Pembrokeshire coastal path. As we strolled along the cliffs, we could hear guns being fired as part of the military exercises that were being carried out nearby. For us the noise was merely an irritation but I was conscious of those, in Ukraine for example, for whom, together with falling missiles, the sound holds a far greater significance – a constant reminder, as it is, of the transience of all our lives.
Even so, tragic though this is, I’m glad that believers in Ukraine too will not be forgotten – not in life, and certainly not in death.
Perhaps you’ve heard them too, the whispered rumours of a quiet revival which is seeing younger people in particular attending church in increasing numbers and reading the Bible far more than they ever did before.
Why though might this be?
Well one possibility is that this generation has grown cynical of a world in which it’s not just supposedly true memoirs which turn out to be full of lies – so too it appears, are the statements made by our political leaders who, despite their constant promises to bring about change for the better, repeatedly fail to do so.
Add to that the consequences of war, environmental issues and financial insecurity, and perhaps it’s easy to see how today’s younger people are like the disciples who on the first Good Friday were similarly disillusioned, having seen the one they’d genuinely believed would make things better get crucified. For had another so called messiah appeared on the scene that day, promising them a better tomorrow, they too would probably have rolled their eyes in disbelief at what they were being told.
So then, just as today’s Gen Z’s are in search of something different, so too were the disciples. But for those first century followers of Jesus, something different is exactly what then took place
When we think of power, we tend to focus on the ability some people have to inflict their will on others, the strength of military might, and the impotence of those who find themselves standing in its way. But there is another way to think of power.
Consider the power to repair, like that of the surgeon whose meticulous attention to detail can knit back together what has previously been torn apart; think of the power to restore, like that of those with the practical skills necessary to put back in place all that has recently been torn down; and think of the power to reconcile, like that of those with the wisdom and sensitivity to speak the well chosen words required to sweeten the most soured relationships.
Think of the power of love that counters brute strength with gentleness and, even in the face of hate, continues still to be kind.
That was the power that was on display on that first Easter Day. When Jesus exploded back to life, a power was released that was infinitely greater than even the twelve GBU-57A/B MOP bombs that America dropped on the Fordow facility in Iran last month. But unlike their ability to only destroy, the power of Christ’s resurrection was one that was wholly creative.
And it’s a power that continues unstoppable today – a power that, having been released, can’t help but bring about what the one behind it desires.
Furthermore it’s the power we all need to see on display today, be we Generation X, Millennials, or Baby Boomers. Because it’s what unites us all – the need for an infinite and creative force for good.
One which, today, some, including Gen Z’s, are rightly looking to find in Christianity.
Today, I thought I’d write an account of the life affirming walk I took along the Pembrokeshire Coast Path – one that is every bit as true as the plethora of similar narratives that are so in vogue at present.
But before I do, you need to understand the circumstances under which I embarked on my trek. Firstly I was somewhat strapped for cash, the state of my finances all the more perilous for want of the 40p I was charged to use the public conveniences, and secondly, I’d just been diagnosed with terminal hay fever.
But desperate though my plight was, these were challenges that prompted me to don my walking boots and start my epic journey – one that I very much hoped would result in my finding myself.
Which I did, not long after, in Saundersfoot, the town where I’d decided to commence my hike.
But no sooner had I alighted from the bus that had taken me there, I suffered one of my blackouts. For what other explanation could there be, for why one second I was biting into an individually wrapped biscotti covered caramel flavoured sponge cake, and the next I was staring at the floor where Hector was devouring what little now remained of it?
After which, things went from bad to worse when I and my canine companion were accosted by an octogenarian member of the Pontypool Women’s Institute, who forced us to give up the bench which we’d just been about to vacate, by fiendishly appearing to be a delightful individual who wished only to engage us in friendly conversation.
Despite such an unsettling start to the day, we nonetheless made our way to the seafront and started along the coastal path to Tenby. Soon we were strolling along, high above the beach and I noticed a black Labrador, not dissimilar in appearance to Hector, splashing happily in the waves. Eager to point out the fun his double was having, I looked around to see where Hector was – only to realise that it was he who was now wreaking havoc two hundred yards away to my left. Amazingly though, having called the hapless hound, he responded immediately, and made his way back to me, choosing a route that involved him clambering over rocks and leaping off one that must have been at least eight feet high.
Unscathed he rejoined me on the footpath and we continued on our way. After walking what seemed like days, but was in fact just an hour and a quarter, we stumbled upon a private beach where, mistaken for John Noakes and Shep, we were invited to join the celebrities who were relaxing there. And so we spent a pleasant hour playing French cricket with Bryn Terfel, the Andrews Sisters, and the Marquis de Sade.
After experiencing such a high, it was perhaps inevitable that I would soon come crashing back to earth. And so it was, at the foot of an exceptional steep hill which seemed to stretch endlessly up to the heavens, I began to ask myself life’s biggest questions – the greatest of all being why so many passers-by seemed drawn to comment on how handsome Hector was, whilst so few seemed inclined to comment similarly regarding my own facial appearance.
Managing somehow to put such concerns to one side, we managed to struggle on until eventually Ye Olde Vape Shop came into view, the establishment famously frequented by Henry VII when he visited Tenby back in the 1400s, marking the end of our walk
And so we reached our journeys end – tired but somehow better for what, man and dog, we’d experienced together.
Some people go about their lives like the CEO of a huge multinational company, their every interaction with others carried out as it were some kind of business deal – one for which they seek to broker terms that are favourable only to themselves.
And so the offers of help that they sometimes make, always come with conditions that ensure that they will be the ones who benefit the most – be it the guarantee of some future financial reward, the forever indebtedness of the one being assisted, or the warm glow of self satisfaction that comes as others look favourably on at their, always very public, displays of apparent benevolence.
Even on their wedding day, their marriage vows are likely to be made in the context of a prenuptial agreement that has already been signed, one designed to protect their own interests should things ever turn sour – which they almost inevitably will, given such an obvious lack of commitment to the relationship, even from its very beginning.
There is nothing big or beautiful about such behaviour. On the contrary, imagining themselves to be smart, these people come across only as scheming and self serving.
Furthermore it is not how those, saying how it is in God that they trust, ought to behave. Because those who claim to follow Jesus should follow the example of him who having taught us that we should give without expecting anything in return, went on to show us what that looks like when, despite our having nothing to offer him in return, he did everything that was required for us to be saved – including dying for us on a cross.
But the proud resent being the recipients of such amazing grace, preferring instead to earn their way to heaven, albeit whilst manipulating the terms of that agreement so as to minimise the investment necessary to achieve such favourable returns.
Such was the attitude of the lawyer who one day asked Jesus what he needed to do in order to inherit eternal life. Which is an odd question for him to have posed, given how he, more than most. should have known that, rather than having to be earned, an inheritance is something that is bestowed on you by someone who has died.
But leaving that to one side, Jesus encouraged the man to answer his own question. Which he did, by rightly summarising how the law requires us to love God with all our heart, soul, strength and mind – and our neighbours as ourselves.
But it was then that the lawyer sought to negotiate more favourable terms for himself, by limiting what the command to love one’s neighbour actually meant. That’s why he asked Jesus to give his definition of what a ‘neighbour’ was, in the hope that those making up that particular group of people would be so reduced in number that loving them might become somewhat more manageable.
But if that was what the lawyer had hoped for, he was to be sorely disappointed. Because, in telling the parable of the Good Samaritan who came to the rescue of a man who had fallen among robbers, Jesus makes it plain that to love your neighbour means not only meeting your enemy’s every need, irrespective of what the cost to you might be, but to do so with genuine, heartfelt compassion. Which is not something that the lawyer had ever done.
And neither, need I point out, have any of us.
Which is why, if we are going to one day make it to heaven, we had better all hope that there is a way other than having to merit our own place there.
But the good news is that there is indeed another way.
Because whilst we might think that nobody has ever loved the way the Good Samaritan did, I know that there is in fact one who loved me like that.
The one who saw me lying spiritually dead – ravaged by sin and guilt. The one who tended my wounds and led me to a place of shelter. The one who paid the price for all my restoration.
There is then one who shows me mercy. And his name is Jesus. And what he did for me he did, despite my being a sinner and hostile to the one who I was created by.
Furthermore, he did it, not out of duty, but out of love.
In very many ways then the parable of the Good Samaritan is a parable about Jesus.
Because Jesus is the Good Samaritan.
So whilst continuing, of course, to try to live as virtuous a life as we possibly can, let’s not put our hope in our own good deeds to make us worthy of heaven. Because we will fail. Instead, let’s trust that Jesus’ death deals with God’s anger at our sin, and, what’s more, that his perfect life is one that God now graciously counts as having been lived by us.
Let’s accept, by faith, that offer of a lifetime. Because we do not inherit eternal life through our own efforts. Rather with receive it as a gift, one that is bestowed upon us by the one who died – both for us and in our place.
Some people go about their life like the CEO of a huge multinational company, and sone lay down their life for others. And I know with whom I would rather deal.
How, I wonder, about you?
To read ‘AN ADVENT CALENDAR COMPLETE’ – which includes 24 reflections on the Christmas Story, click here
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted – sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
To read ‘Why do bad things happen to good people? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Good Friday’, click here
To read ‘Foolishness – Law and Gospel’, click here
To read ‘A CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN – 2024 – COMPLETE’ – which includes 24 more seasonal reflections – this time on why Jesus came to Earth on that first Christmas Day’, click here.
Above is a representation of Hector, one that, since he doesn’t have any real intelligence of his own, was generated by AI. Superficially. I suppose, it is, a striking image – one that could even be considered impressive. But irrespective of how clever the technology is, it’s one that, for me at least, lacks heart.
The photo I sacrificed to ChatGPT in order for it to be produced was the one that I posted yesterday, alongside the so called poem I wrote for Hector’s birthday. After which, curious to see what it would come up with, I asked the same AI Chatbot if it could improve my own attempt at comic verse. Which, the bar not being particularly high, of course it did – seemingly with consummate ease, judging by the second or two it took to complete the task.
But even as it did so, it made me a little sad – not because I’d been shown up by a soulless computer programme, but rather because, written without affection, the ‘improved’ version was reduced to nothing more than a clever use of words – and an artificially clever use of words at that.
And therein lies the problem with AI – it is, as its name suggests, counterfeit and fake. And whilst AI may indeed be able to process data at incredible speeds, just as there are more to facts than raw data, and more to knowledge than simple facts, so too is there more to intelligence than a lot of knowledge, and more to wisdom than great intelligence.
Which is why, if we start to rely too heavily on AI, it’s not just the ensuing pseudo wisdom that we should be concerned about. More than that we should be concerned about what artificial intelligence will do to us.
Because, whilst the words offered up by AI will undoubtedly resonate with some who read them, since they don’t mean a thing to the piece of software that strung them together, those words cannot be anything other than meaningless.
And who wants to be moved by a misleading machine? Or a computer who couldn’t care less?
In recent years technology has created an increasingly contactless world – one in which a more remote existence is the experience of many. So then I wonder., having encouraged us to distance ourselves from those we live alongside, are we seeing technology now urging us to distance ourselves from our own thoughts and, in so doing, rendering us unable to either express or feel any real emotion at all.
I hope not, because that’s not what life is all about. I’m no more in need of a perfect Hector than I am a perfect poetic ability. Or, indeed, a perfect you.
On the contrary, the ability to deal with both our own, and each other’s, ‘necessary fallibility’, is part of what it is to be human.
And if as I do, we do want to be changed for the better, shouldn’t we want that to be by an encounter with something, or someone, who is real? Which is why, no more wishing to faultlessly fool my fellows, than I desire to be meticulously misled myself, this will not just be the first post of mine that AI has had a hand in – because it will also be the last.
Related posts:
To read ‘Machines – enough to drive you berserk’, click here.
He celebrates a birthday, Today he’s two years old, That big, black, beast called Hector, Who won’t do what he’s told. So will he now, I wonder, A grown up dog, play ball, Desist from doing what he does, And come each time I call.
Or will he still continue, As I suspect he might, To do the things he’s prone to, That cause him such delight? Consuming what he shouldn’t, And drooling ere he feeds, Whilst plotting as he does so, Dim dark disturbing deeds.
The gooseberries he’s gobbled, Rhubarb remains at risk, Like Pavlov’s dogs, he can’t resist, His reflexes are brisk. But in the scorching sunshine, This canine cat keeps cool, With jam packed gut he ruminates, On fruity, flavoured, fool.
A furry, fiendish fellow, He daily causes grief, Some ask me why I love him, It beggars their belief. But though he is a monster, With very little brain, His driving me around the bend, Is all that keeps me sane!
‘Cos as we walk together, Along life’s shady paths, Each day it’s surely safe to say, He brings me lots of laughs. So Happy Birthday Hector, You goofy, gorgeous, goon, I hope you have a smashing time, This twenty-eighth of June!
Imagine you were God, a good God – how do you think you would act?
Perhaps you would create a world, speaking it into existence in the way that only you could, one that reflected, not only your almighty power, but your inherent goodness too. Perhaps you’d inhabit that world with creatures that would enjoy both who you were and what you’d made, not because of any neediness in you, but because you understood that true happiness comes from admiring the truly admirable. And perhaps, recognising that right and wrong are objective, determined by what you yourself decree them to be, you’d insist on certain behaviours but, at the same time, be prepared, by humbling yourself, even to the point of death, to forgive transgressions in order to restore all that got broken and reconcile even those who rebelled against you.
But imagine now that you only thought you were God, but were in fact only a man – how do you think you would act then?
Perhaps you would strut around the world stage as if you owned the place when in fact it belonged to somebody else. Perhaps, desperate to be admired, you’d disparage others whilst surrounding yourself with those who told you how great you were, those who, somehow able to suspend their own disbelief, could buy into the lie you yourself persisted in propagating. Perhaps you’d make proclamations, believing, despite evidence to the contrary, that what you’d said was true simply because you’d spoken. And perhaps, having arrogantly promised to save the world, you’d lose your temper when it emerged you were not the self professed messiah you seemed to believe you were and people didn’t always do what you told them they should.
What a tragedy that would be – not only because of how foolish you would prove yourself to be, but because yours would be an ugly parody of what is, in fact, beautifully true.
We live in troubled times, when a cycle of ever more violent retaliation looks set to result in yet more heartache for those most affected by the violent actions of those who, though claiming to, neither represent them or have their best interests at heart.
And all this at a time when a great many of us are increasingly dissatisfied with our lives general.
Why might this be?
Hannah Arendt (1906-1975) was a German born philosopher best known for her book ‘The Human Condition’ (1958). In it, if I understand her correctly, she explains her view that the way out of living a meaningless life is to bring about change through our ability to act and thus create something new.
She distinguishes our ‘actions’ from our ‘labour’ and our ‘work’.
‘Labour’, to Arendt, is simply those activities of living by which we meet our biological needs – needs which, because they can only be temporarily met, always need to be repeated and thus in themselves, are not able to satisfy us at any more than the most superficial level.
‘Work’ she defines as that which we do within the world that imparts a ‘measure of permanence and durability upon the futility of mortal life and the fleeting character of human time’. ‘Work’ produces something abiding, and is of a higher level than ‘labour’ which merely perpetuates.
Our ‘actions’, however, are what she says really count. It is not so much ‘what’ we are that matters but ‘who‘ we are. And who we are is best revealed through our words and deeds – when we go beyond our inherent selfish survival instincts and ‘act’ to bring something new and unexpected into existence.
Two key behaviours that Arendt identifies as bringing about this change are those of forgiveness and the making and keeping of promises.
Forgiveness is the behaviour by which it is possible to nullify past actions, releasing others from what they have done and enabling them to change their minds and start again. ‘Forgiveness‘, she writes, ‘is the key to action and freedom‘ and ‘the only way to reverse the irreversible flow of history‘.
In contrast, our ability to make and keep promises marks us out as being able to make the future different from the past. ‘Promises are the uniquely human way of ordering the future, making it predictable and reliable to the extent that this is humanly possible‘.
Arendt believes that, to be fulfilled, we need to be able to act in ways that advance or better society as a whole.
And herein lies the clue as to why some of us may have lost satisfaction in our day to day lives.
Though we continue to seek happiness, so restricted have we become in public life, by the guidelines that we have to adhere to and the hoops through which we have to jump, that we have become like slaves who have no prospect of having genuine influence.
In Arendt’s terms, we can ‘labour’ and ‘work’ – but we cannot ‘act’.
Furthermore, having given up the prospect of doing something that might bring about real change and produce genuine benefit, we have retreated from the public sphere and been reduced to consumers who are content to amuse ourselves in private – with yet another bottle of prosecco, perhaps, and an evening spent bingeing on the latest Netflix TV series.
Arendt further suggests that ‘under conditions of tyranny, it is far easier to act than to think‘. Such then is the consequence of living in societies where conformity to a prescribed viewpoint is all that really matters. In such circumstances, we are prone to unquestioningly comply with what we are told we must do and, from fear of reprisal, anxiously seek to do so perfectly.
But, says Arendt, ‘In order to go on living one must try to escape the death involved in perfectionism‘. By giving up the hope of genuine autonomous action we have given up our hope of fulfilment and with it our hope of happiness.
Thoughtlessly striving for perfect compliance, we therefore die.
This links into another idea of Arendt – that whilst we can know much about the objective world, we fail to understand what lies beneath the surface – that which is most important.
By stereotyping those who belong to groups other than those we belong to ourselves, we make the mistake of only recognising the ways in which they are different to us with the result that we can all too easily form a falsely negative view of them and thus justify our harsh treatment of them. But if, instead of lazily contenting ourselves with knowing only ‘what’ such people are, we seek to ‘know’ them as the individuals they are, those who just like us, long to live peacefully and bring up their children in safety, we would find it a lot easier to look for better solutions to our mutual problems than that of going to war.
Instead then of resorting to long range missile attacks and bombing campaigns, we need to spend more time in close proximity to those we are prone to want to attack – not just to end the killing, but also, Arendt says, for the joy of seeing them reveal their true character.
Because failure to know our imagined enemy, not only diminishes them in our own minds, it also diminishes us as well.
But seeing ‘who’ our neighbour is becomes increasing difficult in our relentlessly busy lives characterised as they are by a million and one seemingly more important concerns that press in on us daily.
Finally then, what of ourselves. Arendt suggests that we may never really know who we are ourselves because that is something that can only really be observed by others, those who see us act in ways that we cannot see ourselves.
This is most true when we love – for love, she says, reveals ‘who’ we are like nothing else simply because it is unconcerned with the ‘what’ of the one we love. ‘Love, by reason of its passion, destroys the in-between which relates us to and separates us from others’
To regain our satisfaction with life, therefore, we need to change. We need to stop behaving in the way that we have all too often been encouraged and, rather than focus on how we sometimes differ with others, recognise instead how much we have in common.
In short we need to care better about one another. Rather than mercilessly punishing others for their past mistakes, we need to show a little grace, forgiving them for the hurt they cause and thereby give them the chance to start again.
Because that’s exactly how we need them to treat us too.
We all need to give peace a chance if we are to have any hope of beginning again and creating something new.
I believe people can change. But only in the presence if someone who believes that they can who also promises all the help and support they need to avoid remaining stuck as they are.
And though it’s true that we will need someone infinitely better able to do this than we can ourselves, someone who really does represent us and has our best interests at heart, we all nonetheless need to seek to act in considered, creative and unexpected ways for the good of others. For if we do, as well as making a real difference in the world in which we live, we will begin to restore our own satisfaction with life as well.
Rather than simply settling for what is expected of us, we need to think for ourselves, challenge the status quo, and tackle head on the problems that the world is currently facing.
Because to live is about more than merely complying whilst being mindlessly entertained. The provision of ‘bread and circuses‘ is not enough for us to be happy.
Rather, to truly live is to be somebody who acts and brings about the change, the new start, we all so hope for. The change we very much need if we are to do more than just keeping on keeping on.
Eleanor Oliphant, the eponymous hero in Gail Honeyman’s novel captures the sense of this well.
“I suppose one of the reasons we’re all able to exist for our allotted span in this green and blue vale of tears is that there is always, however remote it seems, the possibility of change”.
Related post.
To read ‘On not remotely caring’, which considers further the dangers of living at a distance can be found here
Today MPs will vote again on Kim Leadbeater’s Assisted Dying Bill. It’s an important debate that will rightly generate strong emotions since the matter being discussed is one that strikes at the heart of what it is to be human.
Opinions of course differ wildly, and I have dear friends who I know to be kind and considerate people who are in favour of assisted dying and hope that the bill will be passed. And I trust they will remain my friends irrespective of the outcome of today’s debate.
But as for me, I am opposed to the bill and have written previously why I hope that it won’t be passed. This is not only because of my religious beliefs but also because of what, being one myself, I believe regarding what it is to be human.
But one final thought – regarding what is sometimes called the slippery slope.
Some don’t consider the incline that we are currently standing atop to be all that precarious, confident that the passing of the bill will not lead to a situation when, over time, the conditions necessary for assisted dying to be permitted will lessen such that far more people will end their own life than was originally intended.
But history suggests otherwise.
Take the 1967 Abortion Act that legalised termination of pregnancy when two doctors agreed that the continuation of a pregnancy would pose a greater risk to the woman’s physical or mental health than if that pregnancy were terminated, or if there was a substantial risk that the child would be born with severe physical or mental abnormalities.
Because, as well as creating all manner of inconsistencies in the way we care for unborn children, the act has brought us to where we are today – a place where we have abortion on demand.
Throughout my thirty plus years working as a doctor, I never heard of a request for termination being turned down, and some years ago it made headlines that termination clinics were run with a stack of pre-signed forms approving termination – a state of affairs that suggests that individual cases are not being individually considered.
Little wonder then that in 2022, there were 251,377 abortions for women in England and Wales, the highest number since the Abortion Act was introduced.
So then, the slope was indeed slippery when it came to termination of pregnancy – can we really be sure it wont be any less slippery when it comes to assisted dying.
It’s my fervent hope that we never find out.
Related posts:
To read ‘Assisted Dying – we’ll need to be happier to help’, click here
To read ‘Assisted Dying in the light of the Cross’, click here
A firm foundation is important for everything in life.
And so it was that my grandson’s first experience of watching cricket was a session of a county championship game played at Taunton in 2023 – a day made special, not so much by the coronation of King Charles, but by Tom Kohler-Cadmore completing his maiden century for Somerset.
But that was two years ago and now, having got to grips with the complexities of the lbw law, learnt to appreciate the beauty of an expansive cover drive, and developed the necessary wisdom to be able to set a field for a slow left armer bowling to an right-handed batsmen in need of quick runs, it seemed the right time for the now three year old to be exposed to a shorter format of the game.
Even so, like the fun-loving illegitimate child born to one of more noble birth, T20 fixtures can be both wild and unpredictable affairs and, attending a game should not therefore be undertaken lightly.
Thorough preparation is therefore essential.
And so I taught him how, should a lone trumpeter cause a few plaintive notes to echo across the ground, in order to avoid the scorn of those around him, he ought to offer by up a Pavlovian cheer in response. I taught him how he should take cover if he should become the target of an unprovoked attack by those who saw fit to throw unwanted merchandise at him. And I taught him the vagaries of DLS just in case bad weather intervened and he was called upon to come up with a revised target for the team batting second.
And so the great day arrived, and together we made our way to the ground, my young companion carrying the vintage Somerset flag that I provided him with, my own cherished relic of a bygone season that, despite its poor quality and basic design, I’d somehow never got round to disposing of.
Before taking our seats we took a tour of the ground, hoping for an glimpse of Tom Banton – the wicket keeper/batsmen being a particular favourite with my grandson ever since he’d seen him hobble onto the field of play after last summer’s epic match against Surrey. Little wonder that earlier this season, when his hero scored that triple century, he named his cuddly toy monkey after the great man.
Though we didn’t spot him warming up, it turns out that wearing wicket keeping gloves makes you particularly salient and easy for even a three year old to spot. And so it was that throughout Kent’s innings I was repeatedly told of Tom’s whereabouts which was alway, you won’t be surprised to hear, behind the stumps where a wicket keeper is want to be.
Kent finished on 228-5, my grandson enjoying, a little too much for my liking, celebrating each boundary by waving one of those cards in order to indicate the exact number of runs scored. The other highlight of the Kent innings was, perhaps predictably, Tom Banton’s catch to remove Bell-Drummond for an excellent 100 from just 49 balls.
And yes he was caught behind!
Somerset started well in their innings, with much for all Banton fans to enjoy. Certainly his 68 from 33 balls, which included six sixes and five fours, made one little boy very happy.
The match ended well past my fellow supporter’s bedtime, with Somerset not quite able to get over the line, thus affording the opportunity for another important lesson to be learned – that cricket can be enjoyed even when your team loses.
But any disappointment that my grandson may have felt having seen Somerset defeated was more than compensated for when, now in his pyjamas and ready for the long drive home, he was able to meet his hero, get his autograph and tell him the name of his toy monkey!
And to be told by Tom that the next time he comes to a game, he should bring it with him so that the two can get acquainted!
Thank you Somerset CCC and Tom Banton. You gave one little boy a great day out this weekend.
Other blogs about formative cricketing experiences:
To read ‘Sharing the important things: on introducing your grandchild to cricket’, click here
To read ‘Cigarettes, Singles, and Sipping Tea with Ian Botham: Signs of a Well Spent Youth!’, click here
For this, a particularly frightening Father’s Day, a reworking of a previous blog…
A while back, as I was listening to a song by James Blunt, I found myself starting to cry.
Now this will come as no surprise to those who are less than appreciative of the creative efforts of the one time captain in the British Army – such folk will no doubt see my distress as nothing more than the inevitable consequence of experiencing the efforts of the aforementioned musician. Even so, the reason I was reduced to tears had nothing to do with the artistic merit, or lack thereof, of what it was I was hearing.
The particular song in question was ‘Monsters’. In it Blunt sings of how his father had once chased away the monsters that had existed in his son’s life, and of how his Dad needn’t be afraid that his life is seemingly drawing near to its end, because Blunt junior has now taken on the responsibility of chasing away any monsters that continue to prowl the environs of Blunt senior’s remaining years.
So why the moist eyes?
I think, in part, they began to spill over on account of the fact that my own dear father is now 94 years old and, though he remains reasonably fit and well, he is inevitably gradually drawing ever closer to his own death.
As indeed are we all.
For what is true for my Dad, is equally regrettably, true for you and me. Perhaps, for us, our time has not yet gone – but the day is surely coming when it will have.
But more specifically, my sadness reflected a realisation that, despite being a genuinely great Dad who has, over the years, lessened a great many of the fears I have myself experienced, he has, of course, been no more successful in chasing away all the monsters in my life as I myself have been successful in chasing away all those that have inhabited the lives of my own children and those of others whom I have loved or cared for, both inside and outside of work.
Life is at times a scary business and, as a former doctor I have, perhaps, seen more of those things that lurk in the shadows than some others.
I know that the world is full of protracted dementia and premature death, it’s full of cancer and congenital disease, it’s full of pain, paralysis, sickness and sorrow.
But what I’ve seen in my life pales into relative insignificance when compared with what is currently being experienced by far too many people in far too many parts of the world.
Because, as we are all too well aware this weekend, it’s a world that is far too full of war as well.
We live, then, in a sometimes confusing and confounding place, one that is both wild and unpredictable. And whilst, for a time, we may be able to cage some of the monsters we encounter, as with those great creatures of old, the Behemoth and Leviathan, we can never tame them fully.
That is as true today as it surely will be tomorrow.
Perhaps, in part, that’s the point of monsters. Perhaps we are meant to be terrified by these fearful creatures, at least for as long as it takes for us to appreciate that it will always be beyond our ability to domesticate them and thus, render as harmless, that which threatens us most. (See Job Chapters 40 and 41). Only then will we come to realise that our only hope lies, not in ourselves, but in the one who created what terrifies us, in the one who, as their creator, stands high above each of those dreadful dangers and who, more terrifying perhaps than they are themselves, sovereignly controls and constrains them such that their sphere of influence extends only as far as he decrees.
Because of our finite and, therefore, inherently limited minds, there is, of course, an unfathomable mystery to God that we will never completely understand, an infinite depth to his being that we will never fully plumb. But by faith we know that this fear inducing deity, is also a God of love. As C.S. Lewis helpfully reminds us, God is not safe, but he is good.
In the book that bears his name, Job, in his anguish at the devastating loss he has experienced, pours out his complaint to God. And when it is eventually answered, it is out of the whirlwind that God graciously speaks. [Job 38.1].
Whatever our current circumstances, however incomprehensible we may be finding what is happening to us today, God has promised that he will ultimately restore the fortunes of his children just as he restored Job’s. And when he does, it will be as a result of his loving kindness and his infinite goodness.
Though he may, in his mercy, first have cause to humble us, an experience which we may find to be deeply painful, having done so he will vindicate us, accepting us as righteous on account of the perfect life lived by Jesus.
And in the end, he will richly bless us, a consequence of who he is by nature – that is a compassionate God who invites us to take refuge in him. Then, just as those who, sheltering in a crevice of a rock can marvel at the frightening force of the storm, so we, safe in Christ, will be able to marvel at the fearful awesomeness of who God really is.
So who will protect you from the hooded claw, who will keep the vampires from your door?
Surely only the one who is sovereign over all that is evil – surely only the one who, though God, paradoxically ‘emptied himself by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men and, being found in human form, humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.’ [Philippians 2:7-8]
This is the power of the perfect love shown by the perfect and almighty God who is love. His is a love that chooses to suffer, a love that chooses to lay down it’s life, and a love that, in so doing, subverts evil, disarms it of its power, and defeats death itself.
My father may not have been able to chase away all the monsters in my life, but he has pointed me to the one who can, a Father who is greater than either of us could ever be.
God is the only perfect father – one whose son I am glad to be. And he is the one to whom I seek to point others, including my own children, because, since his is the only perfect love, and since ‘perfect love casts out fear’ [1 John 4:18], he alone is the one who can deal with all that frightens them, all that frightens me, and all that frightens those I love and care for.
Contrary though to the lyrics that James Blunt sings in his song, there is a need for forgiveness. But the good news is that, on account of Christ dying a substitutionary death in our place, our faultless Heavenly Father, who does indeed know all our mistakes, lovingly offers that forgiveness to all who will receive it.
If then, when our time is gone, we know his forgiveness, and if, as we close our eyes in sleep for that final time, we hear someone gently whisper ‘Don’t be afraid’, we will know, even then, that there really is nothing that we need fear.
For then, the monsters really will have all been chased away…forever.
For those unfamiliar with the song ‘Monsters’ – here’s a link to where you can listen to it. You can say what you think, I think it’s all right!
Related post:
To read ‘On NOT being afraid at Halloween’, click here
To read ‘At Halloween – O death where is your victory?’, click here
A county cricket supporter [CCS] enters a sports shop. Behind the counter is the chairman of the ECB [COE]
CCS: Hello, I wish to register a complaint.
COE: We’re closin’ for lunch.
CCS: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this ‘ere cricket competition what I’ve been following these last fifty years and for which you are responsible.
COE: Oh yes, the, uh, the County Championship…What’s, uh…What’s wrong with it?
CCS: I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it, my lad. It’s dead, that’s what’s wrong with it!
COE: No, no, it’s uh,…it’s coping extremely well as it adapts to the rapidly changing world of cricket.
CCS: Look, matey, I know a dead county championship when I see one, and I’m looking at one right now.
COE: No,no it’s not dead, it’s, it’s a vital part of the domestic season and coping extremely well! Remarkable competition the county championship, isn’t it? Beautifully structured corporate hospitality packages.
CCS: The structure of its corporate hospitality packages doesn’t enter into it. It’s stone dead.
COE: No, no, no, no, no! It’s an essential and highly valued part of the summer schedule.
CCS: All right then, if it’s highly valued, why are most of its games played at the outer fringes of the season; why are no games played in August when school children are free to attend; and why at the start of June, do some counties have only one more day this season scheduled to be played at the weekend? That is what I call a dead county championship.
COE: No, no…..No, it’s stunned!
CCS: STUNNED?!?
COE: Yeah! It’s just stunned. The county championship stuns easily.
CCS: Um…now look…now look, mate, I’ve definitely had enough of this. This county championship is definitely deceased, and when I suggested as much to you previously, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it being tired and shagged out because there was too much cricket being played. And then you added a new, and totally unnecessary, competition.
COE: Well, it’s…it’s ah…probably pining to play at Lord’s.
CCS: PINING to play at LORD’S?!?!?!? Pining more like for a decent schedule and a quality one day competition that does indeed have its final played at the home of cricket. Answer me this. Why is the much loved and hugely entertaining county championship treated as an irrelevance by those who are supposed to look after its interests?
COE: Well perhaps it’s because it doesn’t bring in much money. Even so, it’s a remarkable competition. Beautifully structured corporate hospitality packages!
CCS: Look, I have taken the liberty of examining the county championship and I have discovered that the only reason that it has remained on its perch for as long as it has, is because of those who, because of their great love for the counties, continue to turn up to games in order to follow the teams that mean so much to them.
(pause)
COE: Well, of course! Given how poorly we promote it, if it wasn’t for the efforts of those tedious supporters who demand it should be taken seriously, it would have disappeared long ago. That’s the thing with the county championship – It’s very vigorous!
CCS: VIGOROUS!? Mate, this county championship wouldn’t be vigorous it you put four million volts through it! It’s demised!
COE: NO,no! It’s pining!
CCS: It’s not pining! It’s passed on! This county championship is no more! It has ceased to be! It’s expired and gone to meet it’s maker! It’s a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If it wasn’t for its supporters it’d be pushing up the daisies! Its metabolic processes are now history! Its off the twig! It’s kicked the bucket, It’s shuffled off its mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-COUNTY CHAMPIONSHIP!
(pause)
COE: Well, I’d better replace it, then.
(He takes a quick peek behind the counter)
Sorry squire, I’ve had a look ’round the back of the shop, and uh, we’re right out of county championships.
(pause)
CCS: (Incredulous) I see. I see, I get the picture.
COE: (pause) I’ve got an alternative though?
(pause)
CCS: (Mocking) Pray, does it encourage cricket to played in the way so cherished by lovers of the longest format of the game?
COE: Nnn- not really. It’s a format that we’re thinking of calling ‘The Fifty’!
CCS: WELL IT’S HARDLY A SATISFACTORY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?
(He storms out and joins the increasing number who are losing all interest in the summer game. After all, he only ever wanted to be a lumberjack)
With apologies to Monty Python.
And having announced its death, here are a couple of spooky cricket stories related to county crickets demise:
To read ‘Scooby Doo and the Mystery of the Deseted Cricket Ground’, click here
To read ‘A Cricketing Christmas Carol: A Ghost Story’, click here
Other Monty Python inspired cricket pieces
To read ‘A Somerset Cricket Players Emporium 2022’ click here
Yesterday I saw a picture posted by my friend Katya, who lives in Kharkiv and was thus an eye witness of Russia’s latest attack on the people of that city. Below is some footage she shot of that same attack – footage that, knowing the person who filmed it, I found particularly sobering to watch.
But it’s film, I believe, that others would benefit from not only watching, but listening to as well.
Because, as well as by the things I was seeing, I was struck by how the distinct sound of birdsong could be heard despite the terrifying background noise of missiles exploding and air raid sirens being sounded.
All of which got me thinking.
Whilst putting up with the relentless attacks on their homeland, many Ukrainians speak of the hurt they feel when they hear certain world leaders blaming them for the war, claiming as they do that they either started it, or are somehow in the wrong for trying to defend themselves. It feels to them like yet another unjust assault on their already beleaguered nation.
But when those making such utterances are supposedly those with the greatest power, who else do those they are addressing have to listen to?
Well today is a day which might provide a clue to the answer to that question. Because today is Pentecost Sunday, the day that Christians remember the outpouring of the Holy Spirit – the same Holy Spirit who, just as he brought order out of the chaotic waters he hovered above before the creation of the world, is able to bring order out of the chaos that we find ourselves experiencing today.
If that is, we would listen to the one he longs for us to hear – be we Ukrainians living in a war zone, or those who are simply struggling, perhaps less dramatically, with our own everyday difficulties.
There will of course be those who say that it is naive to hope in God but, to me at least, truly naivety would be to keep on hoping in men and women when, rather than knowing what best to do, those we elect seem to be nothing other than utterly out of control. Wouldn’t it be better to fix our eyes on Jesus and, as the one who announced him to be his son urges us, ‘listen to him’ instead.
That isn’t, of course, easy – especially when there are those who are so loud mouthed that, like those relentlessly exploding missiles, they seem to constantly demand our attention too.
But just as alongside the cacophony of war there is the reassuring sound of birdsong, so too, alongside the nonsense spouted by mankind, there is the infinite wisdom of the unchanging word of God which, as a result of the Holy Spirit working in us, we begin to see revealed to us in the Bible.
And it’s there that we read of the occasion when the LORD appeared to Elijah. First ‘a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper.’ [1 Kings 19:11-12]
It was, therefore, through his ‘still small voice’ that God made himself known to Elijah. And so it is that he continues to make himself known to believers today – through his living word that, as those who have heard it will testify, is infinitely more powerful than the comparatively plaintive whines of those who, in this world, like to consider themselves important.
And so, on this Pentecost Sunday, may we all know the Holy Spirit helping us to understand God word as he has made it available to us in the holy scriptures; may we all experience the joy of knowing our sins have been forgiven as a result of Jesus’ substitutionary death for us on the cross; and may we may all look confidently forward to that day when, as well as experiencing our own bodily resurrection, all our tears will be wiped away and death will be no more.
And since these are the things that those who hope in God, are sure and certain of, let’s all hope in God.
Recently I started reading David Seccombe’s book, ‘The Gospel of the Kingdom’, and I was interested to learn how the word ‘Gospel’ has a meaning beyond that of ‘good news’ that it is well known to have within Christian circles.
The first occurrence in the Bible of the word ‘gospel’ is found in 1 Samuel 4:17 where it appears in the context of long-distance communication on one of Israel’s darkest days. A messenger arrived in the town of Shiloh where Eli was waiting anxiously for news of the battle that had been taking place between Israel and the Philistines.
Eli asked the messenger how the battle had fared and we read that the one who brought the report, literally ‘the gospeller’, answered by relaying the catastrophically bad news of Israel’s defeat, the death of Eli’s two sons, and the capture of the ark of God.
‘Gospel’ then, as originally used, wasn’t a word associated solely with good news.
On other occasions however, it was – as was the case when David received news of how his army, led by Joab, had fared against that of his rebellious son Absalom. Joab had won a great victory and a messenger was subsequently despatched to take the news to David. And when David sees him approaching, he says in 2 Samuel 18:25 that if he runs alone, ‘there is news in his mouth’, literally he carries ‘gospel’.
And there are other, non-biblical uses of the word too. I could tell you how the word is used in the story of Pheidippides who ran from Marathon to Athens to convey the good news of the Greek army’s victory over the Persians, or how the great Roman general. Pompey, received the good news, to him at least, of the death of King Mithradates from the despatch riders that the historian Plutach calls ‘gospels’.
But irrespective of whether the news is good or bad, on every occasion the word is used for the conveying of momentous announcements related to victory in battle and the rise and fall of kingdoms.
Which I hope you will see the relevance of. Because the Christian gospel is indeed good news, relating to the regime change that has been brought about through the death of Jesus Christ on the cross and his subsequent resurrection. Because it is through this most momentous historical event that the ruler of the kingdom of this world, the devil, has been overthrown and been replaced by King Jesus – the ruler of the now present kingdom of God.
All of which is particularly significant today since it is Ascension Day – the day when Christians traditionally remember how, forty days after his resurrection, Jesus ascended, not just to heaven, but to a throne.
A throne on which he still sits.
Which is indeed very good news since, no matter our current circumstances, we can be sure that the one who rules over us now, is the one who will do so, not only for all eternity [Isaiah 9:7] but also with both ‘understanding and knowledge’. [Proverbs 28:2]. Those of us who are his subjects can, therefore, gladly submit to his authority, confident that his rule is one that is characterised by both justice and perfect righteousness.
All of which helps us understand what it is to be a Christian. Because such are those who are no longer under the rule of the old regime, the one that ultimately leads only to death. Instead we are citizens of the kingdom of God, under the Lordship of Jesus Christ, and thus can look confidently forward to eternal life.
It is a radically different way of life, as Jesus himself makes plain when in Luke 9:23-27 he says,
‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses of forfeits himself? For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words, of him will the Son of Man be ashamed when he comes in his glory and the glory of the Father and of the holy angels. But I tell you truly, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see the kingdom of God’”
These are challenging words.
As disciples of Jesus we are called not to follow our hearts in the way that the world so often encourages us to do, hearts that are, remember, unreliable guides given how they are deceitful above all things and desperately sick. [Jeremiah 17:9]
Rather we are to follow a person, one who, as God’s chosen King, has every right to demand our allegiance.
And, like Jesus, our lives are to be cross driven. Like him, we are to deny ourselves and take up our cross too. Having become beneficiaries of the regime change that Jesus brought about, it makes no sense for us to continue living for ourselves, because that futile way of life, characterised as it is by sin and death, is the life that we have been saved from. To go on living for ourselves would therefore, be both a denial of what was achieved for us on the cross and a denial of our new identity in Christ.
To be a follower of Jesus is then an all or nothing affair. Rather than something we can commit to only as much as we feel inclined to at any given time, we are, says Jesus, to deny ourself daily by putting our own selfish desires to death each and every day of our lives.
That then, is what it means to follow Jesus.
And we should recognise too how our response to the gospel is a matter of life and death. For, as Jesus himself says, if we continue as we once did, supposedly saving our lives by pleasing ourselves as citizens of the kingdom of darkness, then we will only ultimately lose them. But if we submit to Christ’s lordship, losing our lives for his sake, we will actually be saving them.
So then, to be a disciple of Jesus is to be one who is learning to live, not for oneself, but for God – in the light of the reality that we are, as a result of Christ’s saving work in our behalf, citizens now of heaven. And we need to remember that even if we were to live ‘successfully’ in the kingdom of darkness, we would still ultimately lose everything. ‘For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself?’
But notice something else from Jesus’ words – his call to live a life devoted to him, though a challenging one, is not one that we should resist. Because to lose our life for his sake will ultimately be worth it as it will mean that, as well as our lives being eternally preserved, we will go on to enjoy everlasting life with God, ‘in whose presence there is fullness of joy and at whose right hand there are pleasures for evermore’. [Psalm 16:11]
That’s what it means to have our lives saved – something that surely we all want. If it is, however, we are called first to lose our lives, to recognise that our allegiance is rightfully to Jesus and thus live to please him and not ourselves.
On Ascension Day therefore, let’s not be ashamed of the one who sits on the throne. Let’s not be ashamed of the one who rescued us and has guaranteed our future. And let’s not be ashamed of the gospel that is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes. [Romans 1:16].
Related posts related to the Christian Calendar:
To read ‘AN ADVENT CALENDAR COMPLETE’ – which includes 24 reflections on the Christmas Story, click here
To read ‘A CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN – 2024 – COMPLETE’ – which includes 24 reflections on why Jesus came to Earth on that first Christmas Day’, click here.
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted – sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
To read ‘Why do bad things happen to good people? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Good Friday’, click here
It’s not unusual for Christians to struggle. And nor is it unknown for them to sometimes question God.
In Psalm 77 Asaph cries out in his distress and calls on the God who, it appears to him, is not listening or, if he is, has forgotten to be gracious. Nonsensical though it no doubt seems to him, the psalmist even wonders if God’s everlasting love for him has finally come to an end.
Perhaps some of us have felt similarly. But if we have, we would do well to take a leaf out of Asaph’s book and do what he, in his despair, wisely chose to do himself.
Which was to remember God – and In particular the powerful acts he’d performed in the past.
Now for Asaph, writing as he was in Old Testament times, the mightiest of all God’s acts was the Exodus – the occasion when he recused his people by parting the waters of the Red Sea and thus rescued them from Egypt and Pharaoh’s vast army that was pursuing them. This is how Asaph describes that event in verses 16-20 of Psalm 77.
‘When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; indeed, the deep trembled. The clouds poured out water; the skies gave forth thunder; your arrows flashed on every side. The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind; your lightnings lighted up the world; the earth trembled and shook. Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters; yet your footprints were unseen. You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.’
It all sounds very frightening for the people of God, and yet it was through that experience that they were saved – an experience during which, though his ‘footprints were unseen’, he was nonetheless with them, leading them as a shepherd leads a flock.
We don’t know what was troubling Asaph when he wrote his psalm, but given how it ends with the above words, it seems to me that his recalling God’s past record of coming to the rescue of his people was enough to comfort him, reassuring him as it surely would have, that God could, and would, do the same for him, no matter how difficult his situation was.
So how can all this help us in our distress?
Well we can remember the mighty works of God too – specifically the one by an even greater rescue of the people of God was brought about.
For that is what Jesus achieved by dying on a cross. Because his death paid the price, not for the things that he had done wrong – for he was the sinless Son of God – but for all the sin that we have so grievously committed. And it was by dying in our place, that Jesus saved us from the slavery of sin and the existential fear of death that we all are consequently prone to.
But merely bringing Christ’s crucifixion to mind does not, of course, change our current difficult situation – nor does it remove all of our ongoing distress. But it does change our perspective of it. Because the assurance of God’s infinite and everlasting love for us, evidenced by his sending Jesus to suffer and die for us in the way that he did, gives us absolute confidence that all of his many promises of a better tomorrow will surely be kept.
And the promise of a better tomorrow causes us to feel better about the distress we may be experiencing today. Let me give you an illustration, one that I’ve used before.
Suppose, back when I worked as a GP, a patient comes to see me with a really nasty chest infection. They feel horribly unwell and are seriously worried that they will never recover.
And then I give them a prescription for some antibiotics and promise them that, if they take them, they will soon be restored to health.
Immediately they feel better.
Even though they aren’t.
How could they be, they’ve not even picked up the prescription yet. But they nonetheless begin to feel better because they have believed my promise that better is what they will one day be.
Well God has made promises too, one’s that can be depended upon far more reliably than any promise made by any doctor ever. And not least amongst them is the one that, so precious to me and many other believers, tells us that a day is coming when he will wipe away every tear from our eyes and death shall be no more. [Revelation 21:4].
In Psalm 77, Asaph wrote of how God led his people as a shepherd leads his flock. So it is not insignificant therefore, that Jesus described himself as the good shepherd, one who lays down his life for his sheep [John 10:11]. Furthermore, like those of God at the time of the Exodus, though his footsteps may not be seen, in frightening times we can still be assured that he is with us – even as we ‘walk through the valley of the shadow of death’ [Psalm 23:4].
So then, by remembering the mighty works of God, he restores our souls. And as he leads us in paths of righteousness, we need fear no evil. Because, by trusting in his promises, we can surely know, that ‘goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our life’ and we will dwell, safe and sound, in the house of the LORD forever’ [Psalm 23:6]
Related blogs:
To read ‘Luther and the war in Ukraine’, click here
To read ‘When our joy will be complete’, click here
Some musings 