A King Size Bed

 There are beds for every shape and size, even beds for dogs! Yet, in many parts of the world, children don't get to sleep in their own beds. They sleep on the floor or on a mat, or else share a small bed with others. It is interesting to see how much bigger and more luxurious beds have become in the wealthy West in recent years. Still, we do spend a third of our lives in them, so I suppose they had better be comfortable.

But there was no fancy bed for the King of kings. When Jesus was born he was laid in a feeding trough because there was no room for him in the Inn. Whether formed from pieces of wood as in our picture, or hollowed out from stone, the main purpose of this receptacle was providing food for hungry animals, not being a bed fit for a king. Three times in the brief first part of Luke chapter 2 the gospel writer refers to the manger. It was remarkable to him, as it is to me even today.

It was a borrowed bed. Much later in his life Jesus pointed out that foxes have dens and the birds of the air have nests, but he had no place to regularly lay his weary head. Everything Jesus had was lent to him, usually by grateful followers. But, this manger was lent by the animals and their owners. How amazing that the arrival of the Son of God, the world's creator, should be greeted by willing creatures lending him a place to sleep! Jesus still inhabits borrowed quarters. He waits for us to hear his call and lend him our hearts and lives. 

It was a humble bed. No fancy throne here. In Matthew's gospel Jesus said; 'Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls' (Mt 11:29). Jesus chose to humble himself so that we could be lifted up in him! At the cross his lowering of himself became complete. 'God made him who had no sin to be sin[a] for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God' (2 Cor. 5:21).

It was a sign. The angel appearing to the shepherds said as much. 'This will be a sign to you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger' (Luke 2:12). The humble manger became a sign of a humble saviour. It pointed to something and someone way beyond its lowly confines. It pointed to the one who can truly be King and Lord of our lives if we will let him. And if we will? Then our lives can become signs also - pointing others to the Christ of Christmas.

Have a blessed and peaceful Christmas and a glorious New Year!

A Fearful Possibility? - or a Place of Shelter?

With news of a new variant named 'Omicron' by the WHO that may possibly dodge the effects of the vaccine on our immune systems, as well as being even more transmissible than the Delta version, it is clear that the pandemic is far from over. The fear of new variants has been acknowledged for some time, but now seems to have been realised due to the low take-up of vaccination in the global south. As one scientist said on the radio recently, 'none of us are safe until we are all safe', urging the fairer spread of vaccine into the poorer nations, now that rates of protection are fairly high in the developed world.

Our own island community has seen infection rates soar since the borders were re-opened in July. The freedom from 'non-pharmaceutical interventions' that we knew - mask wearing, social distancing etc - is now a distant memory as we are tasting what the rest of the British Isles and elsewhere have been going through in the last couple of years. Covid came even closer home to me recently when Diane, my wife, caught Covid and went through a couple of weeks of the symptoms of a really heavy cold, though thankfully nothing more. At the time of writing I am grateful to be still free of the infection.

But some of he stuff I learned during my long battle with life-threatening illness is helping me now. I realise, for instance, that I must make a decision not to let fear dominate here. Why should I be afraid if I know that my life is held in God's hands? Illness and death have always stalked the Earth since the earliest days of mankind, as have wars and famines, but God has always shown himself to be faithful. Christmas is the announcement of God breaking into our fallen humanity with the presence of the one who is described as 'Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Prince of Peace and Everlasting Father'. None of the horrors of the pandemic have taken him by surprise and his hand is still on the tiller of history.

A prayer from the book of Psalms says; 'when my heart is overwhelmed within me, lead me to the rock that is higher than I'. (Psalm 61:2). If you are starting to feel fear's icy grip on your heart, you probably need to pray that too. The new variant may be coming, like another wave of evil, but God's rock is still strong enough for you and me to shelter by. That rock is Christ!

 

Scars of Victory!

 

Watching the Remembrance Day march-past at the UK Cenotaph in Whitehall, London, once again today, I am moved by the faces of the veterans in parade. Regathered after last year's pandemic shutdown, the serried ranks of the comrades, men and women, showed faces beaming with a sense of achievement. As the bands of the Coldstream Guards played wartime tunes they marched past in their thousands, medals jingling, berets askew, arms swinging, chests thrust forward with pride. Yet, for many, the march was a test of endurance. I saw several double amputees in full regalia tottering forward on their artificial limbs but keeping in step with their colleagues. There were guide dogs for blind veterans and several young people in uniform accompanying others. Some marchers were bearing their scars of war so bravely it seems that they were almost decorations, not disabilities.

In my book Through the Storms I describe this scene at the start of a chapter about bearing our scars with pride and not shame. So many of us do have scars from our encounters with pain, disappointment, trauma or battles of all kinds. I have many, both physical and emotional, from my own two decade long struggle with acute and chronic pancreatitis and the many long stays in hospital and appalling pain I endured. When I bared my torso for a medical examination recently the nurse exclaimed 'wow - that's not a scar; that's a shark attack!' The trauma of more than one 'near-death encounter' and long spells in intensive care has left its mark on my sub-conscious, and still affects me occasionally. But these veterans of war marching today by their thousands have reminded me again that our scars are not shameful - no, they speak of our overcoming, our victories.

If you are badly marked or impaired in some way either outwardly or within due to to trauma, hold your wounds up as badges of honour, not signs of disgrace. When Jesus overcame even death itself, his resurrected body still bore the marks of his traumatic death on the cross. They did not disappear in the glory of his victory precisely because they describe his triumph so clearly. Those wounds also become a sign to me of the way he enters into my own suffering so completely. They qualified Jesus as the perfect man as well as God, able to enter into our own battles and sufferings with complete understanding, and total victory.

So, scarred warrior, march on with pride, and when the devil reminds you of your past - just remind him of his future!

No COP out now!

As the worlds' leaders and their teams gather in Glasgow for COP 26 this weekend let's be praying for action instead of merely words and grand gestures. The need for urgency is clear, despite the protests of those with huge vested interest in keeping things the way they are. Certainly our young people seem to understand the message even if their forbears have literally grown deaf. Of course, such action will hurt the lifestyles of those who have become used to the luxury of multiple vehicle ownership and the mass consumption of fossil fuels, but is there a Plan B? I think not.

One aspect of all this that does concern me is the lack of balance between the haves and the have-nots of climate change. Many of the world's poorest communities are experiencing the effects of this period of human tenancy on Earth. From widespread drought in sub-Saharan Africa to wild fires on Greek islands, the threat to the very existence of homes along the rivers in Bangladesh, and the potential disappearance of whole communities into the sea in low-lying island nations like the Maldives, this imbalance is clear. The Western and developed world has made its fortune extracting ore, minerals and fossil fuels from the Earth and it is, quite literally, payback time. The time has come to recognise the essential unity of mankind and the responsibility placed upon us all to be stewards of God's creation.
 

When stuff goes wrong with any piece of equipment in my life, I often refer to the maker's manual. Whether online or in a booklet, I pay attention to the original purpose for the item in question, seeking answers from the one who made it. This is what God has said in his Creator's Manual that goes with the Earth, and reflects His plans for mankind: God spoke: “Let us make human beings in our image, make them reflecting our nature, so they can be responsible for the fish in the sea, the birds in the air, the cattle, and, yes, Earth itself, and every animal that moves on the face of Earth.

God created human beings; he created them godlike, reflecting God’s nature.  He created them male and female. God blessed them: 'Prosper! Reproduce! Fill Earth! Take charge! Be responsible for fish in the sea and birds in the air, for every living thing that moves on the face of Earth.'" (Gen. 1:28-30 The Message).

Shortages? What shortages?

 

During our visit to the UK last week we were amazed by the long queues at petrol stations and the empty shelves in some shops. It seems that panic buying has a lot to answer for, but the underlying problems are more complicated than that. The aftermath of Brexit followed swiftly by the pandemic has disrupted supply chains across Europe, and certainly in the UK. So we see troops driving tankers instead of tanks, and 80 year-olds being begged by the government to drive heavy goods vehicles again! You couldn't make it up!

Apparently it doesn't take much disruption to affect supply chains. A container ship stuck in the Suez Canal for a few days was a big part of all this. Yet, if it wasn't for our human tendency to panic and hoard, a lot of this pressure would be a great deal more manageable. What lies behind this feature of modern life?

Well, fear has a lot to do with it. The fear that what I want, or even what I need, might not be available or perhaps affordable in the future, leads to panic buying. Fear is a powerful force, and as we saw in the early stages of the pandemic, can affect human behaviour in profound ways. Some are positive, like the fear that makes us aware of speeding traffic around us, or a threat posed by hostile groups of young men as we walk about. But fear can also paralyse us, or drive us to irrational actions such as panic-buying or hoarding. In certain circumstances fear can rob us of joy and peace, even causing distressing symptoms in our bodies and minds.

It is for these reasons that he Bible says so much about fear. Some people say there are 366 'don't be afraid' phrases in the Bible - one for every day and one more for a leap year! Jesus spoke about fear a lot, urging his followers to try and let go of anxiety about having whatever they need. Here's a sample, taken from Matthew chapter 6;  “What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met".

Living with a bit of trust in that kind of relationship with God should surely help us to avoid panic. St Paul had lots to worry about, yet whilst languishing in a Roman prison he wrote "And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus" (Phil 4:19). No shortages there then, and no blinding fear either. Handing our lives and our future over to a loving heavenly Father makes so much sense in a world of increasing uncertainty.

Who can we trust anyway?

 

When PC Wayne Couzens pulled out his police warrant card there was no point Sarah Everard running away. If she had done, she might have lived, as the monster was depending on her subservience. She knew that running from an arresting police officer was a criminal offence, and like so many of us would in similar circumstances, she bowed her head and complied. It was the last decision she would ever make.

The judge who sentenced Couzens this week to die in jail rightly pointed out that the murder of this innocent and beautiful soul was compounded by the betrayal of her trust, and ours. We appoint these officers to be guardians of our society and the abuse of that trust horrifies us. But sadly, this is not an isolated betrayal, as the dreadful murder of George Floyd by a policeman in the USA in 2020 shows. 

The abuse of trust by people in power over us, who ought to be protecting or helping us, stuns our
minds, shocks our hearts, and shakes our confidence to its core. Whether teachers, or clergy, or football coaches or broadcasters, the issue of breaching trust can lead us to doubt the value of trusting anything or anybody ever again. Cynicism grows like bacteria in our souls in an atmosphere of mistrust and is fed by the curdled regurgitation of evil in the media. I have not read the sordid details of the Couzens case in the papers, and I don’t intend to, for this very reason.

But we cannot let this evil rob us of the power and hope that flows from trusting something or someone outside of ourselves. Over the years I have had to put my trust in doctors and surgeons who warned me that the upcoming procedure might kill me, and the only way I could make the choice to go ahead was to recognise that higher hands were holding theirs as they operated on me, time and time again. Bowing my head and signing the consent form was only possible because I had previously bowed my head to the Great Physician and put my trust in him. Of course, they could have made errors and sometimes did, but in the end my trust was not in the professionals alone, but in the God who loves me and has a plan for my life.

A very moving verse from the Bible letter of James says: ‘So, my very dear friends, don’t get thrown off course. Every desirable and beneficial gift comes out of heaven. The gifts are rivers of light cascading down from the Father of Light. There is nothing deceitful in God, nothing two-faced, nothing fickle’. This tells us that there is not an iota of abusive intent in the heart of God. He can be trusted. At my baptism as a young teenager, I was given the Bible verse Proverbs 3:5 ‘Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he’s the one who will keep you on track’ (The Message).

‘There is nothing deceitful in God, nothing two-faced’ – but tragically there often is in people. As we put our trust in higher hands, let’s also pray for the family of Sarah Everard who showed such courage and dignity in the courtroom at the Old Bailey this week. And let’s not allow a murderous fiend like Couzens to steal our ability to trust others as well as well as trusting the God who loves us. And may God help any of us in leadership or places of authority to be trustworthy in thought, word and deed.

Parental Pain

 

We were sitting together outside the operating theatre waiting while our only son was being anaesthetised and prepared for surgery on his hand. In the end, it turned out to be only a minor op that he needed after he got his fingers caught in the spoke of a bicycle wheel, but it was no less traumatic for us as his parents. We would gladly have changed places with him on the gurney if we could! We were living in the developing world, in a tiny island nation in the Indian Ocean, where at that time hospital facilities were very basic. Thankfully, no great harm was done, mainly to our fingernails as well as his, and Matthew recovered well. But there is no greater pain than watching your children suffer.

This week two children connected to our fellowship have been in the UK undergoing surgery. One was a '12 hours in theatre' job, and the other followed multiple previous surgeries. We have been supporting both families in prayer, and know that our God is also so moved at the needs of children too. He feels for us in our distress.

I came across a Bible verse today that says 'I kneel humbly in awe before the Father of our Lord Jesus, the Messiah, the perfect Father of every father and child in heaven and on the earth' (Eph 3:15-16 The Passion Translation). I was aware that the 'father' heart of God is so much more loving and compassionate than mine. He feels deeply for our pain as his children. We are never out of his sight or mind. The parents who have sat and waited for surgeons to come back and report, feeling such strong emotions, reflect how our heavenly father feels about us. 

Today, let's thank God for his fatherly care of us. And let's really try to lean back on that care for our children too, and for our children's' children. '...from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children' (Psalm 103:17). 

Father-like He tends and spares us;

Well our feeble frame He Knows.

In His hands He gently bears us,

Rescues us from all our foes.

Praise Him, praise Him,

praise Him, praise Him,

Widely as His mercy flows. 

(From the hymn; Praise my Soul the King of Heaven - public domain)

Going for Gold

Outstanding preparation combined with exhausting effort has been paraded on our screens in the last week. Tokyo 2020 is proving to be the making (and the breaking) of so many hopes and dreams. Despite the rigours of the pandemic and the delays that has caused, these young men and women are committed to achieving their highest and their best in Japan - nothing less will do.

Commitment is what gets them up every morning long before the rest of us, to train, exercise and prepare. Then, after a full days work in most cases, it is their high level of commitment to achieve their Olympic gold, that gets them out to train in the evenings also. It must be a lonely road in order to prepare properly for these few days of competition, as others may not share or appreciate the single minded devotion to their sport that they must show.

One of the early leaders of the Christian faith, St Paul, urged those who follow Christ to recognise that they also are in a race or are competing to win in life.  Winning may not have the glamour of the Olympic podium or win the applause of others, but it will only happen when a life is lived with a clear-cut commitment to a cause outside of oneself. He wrote; 'Do you remember how, on a racing-track, every competitor runs, but only one wins the prize? Well, you ought to run with your minds fixed on winning the prize! Every competitor in athletic events goes into serious training. Athletes will take tremendous pains—for a fading crown of leaves. But our contest is for an eternal crown that will never fade' (1 Cor. 9:24 JBPhillips). Maybe we need a commitment check-up right now?

We have seen the look of utter exhaustion but also of ecstasy on the faces of medal winners as they meet the goal for which they have been training for so long. I wonder what our faces would reflect if we were truly committed to do God's will and serve his purpose in our time? In fact, I wonder what our churches would look like if a majority shared a level of commitment that would not settle for second best? The glint of life's greatest gold beckons us on!

A Message from Rock

 

I went walking on a Guernsey headland during a recent week on a day when the weather was particularly dull and cold for mid-July, and the sky was black with foreboding. A brisk chill wind was blowing in my face, and it looked like a storm might be brewing. Suddenly, at the top of a little grassy hill, I came across a lump of granite on which someone had sprayed the word ‘HOPE’ in golden letters. I felt as if the word had been painted there just for me. 

Addressing islanders at last Friday’s coronavirus briefing, the island's leading psychiatrist Dr Bishop urged that people continue to trust the relevant medical and political teams that have watched over us so well but added two more things we need at this time: kindness and hope. After the dark cold months of pandemic, when so much has been taken from us in terms of freedom, only to be replaced by fear and isolation, we are all in need of both!

What struck me as interesting about the painted rock is that the granite is split in the centre from top to bottom. Into my mind came the words of an old hymn, ‘Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee’. The hymnwriter Augustus Toplady drew his inspiration from an incident in the gorge of Burrington Combe in the Mendip Hills in England. Toplady, a preacher in the nearby village of Blagdon, was travelling along the gorge when he was caught in a storm. Finding shelter in a gap in a nearby rock, he was struck by the title and scribbled down the initial lyrics. He drew on the biblical idea that Jesus is a rock who was split or ‘cleft’ on the cross at Calvary and can be a place of shelter for us today when life gets stormy.

When threatened with destruction during the Second World War, the George Cross island of Malta was saved by, among other things, three flimsy Gloster Gladiator biplanes which were christened by the locals ‘Faith, ‘Hope’ and ‘Charity’. They overcame huge attacks thrown at them by enemy air forces. Perhaps these same virtues will help and protect us, including our mental health, as we fight on against the pandemic to regain our freedoms today.

The Reluctant Rescued

Who would have thought it!? Surely butter wouldn't melt in the mouth of this little dog? Yet, a similar Bichon Frise was the subject of a recent BBC 2 documentary about the amazing work of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) in the UK, called 'Saving Lives at Sea'. The poor dog was on a walk with its owner when it ventured too close to the cliff edge and fell 40 metres to an inaccessible beach below. The owner was distraught and immediately determined to climb down, putting his own life at risk. Thankfully, a bystander convinced him otherwise, and called for the emergency services.

Now my international readers may not understand the mindset of a British volunteer lifeboat crew who would put their own lives at risk to rescue a dog. They set out to do so for several reasons, among them the love of animals, but also in the knowledge that if someone did not help it the owner might do themselves harm, or even die in the attempt. Their self-sacrificing act speaks volumes to me of human kindness and mercy, and is a reflection of God's grace too.

What followed was a sight to behold, because the team managed to get onto the cliff bottom only with great difficulty and finally locate the stranded animal - who didn't want to have anything to do with them! The scenes that followed were amazing - well meaning grown men trying to coax a tiny dog into a salvage bag while the beastie growled and tried to bite them like a tiger! Thankfully, despite risking a finger or two, the team managed to subdue and get it into the bag, onto their boat and back to the grateful owners. They could not believe the little canine had been so aggressive, and he was back to his usual loving self within seconds, even licking the lifeboat men's hands.

All of this made me reflect about how I treat the grace of God myself. He only comes to rescue me from my own misdemeanours and mistakes, yet so often I am equally reluctant to trust him. Of course I realise that the poor animal was shocked from the fall and terrified by the appearance of bright yellow coated and helmeted beings looking like aliens! But God's grace does not always reach us in ways that we can easily recognise. In fact, some of his rescue missions can appear very alien to the world we normally inhabit.

As a dog lover I was so relieved that the team managed to overcome the animal's resistance to be rescued and get him home. I hope that the next time I require God's mercy (and I think that will probably be today) I will receive it a bit more willingly than our little furry friend did!

Filling a Dad-shaped hole

 

Len Gaudion

I miss my Dad. He died aged 71, not much older than I am now, and would have been in his 90's if he had lived. Len Gaudion was a tomato grower by instinct and upbringing. I say instinct because he could make anything grow! If he tossed some old lettuce seeds onto a patch of waste ground, they would sprout into giant greens. His nemesis was ‘fusarium wilt’ which as a child I could not understand, but when I heard him telling my mother about it in hushed tones across the tea table, I knew we were in big trouble. I used to walk carefully and quietly between the rows of toms, hoping that the dreaded wilt would not leap out and savage me like Dad warned it would do to the crop.

My father was such a hard worker. In those days, the soil in Guernsey greenhouses had to be steam sterilised every year in October or November, and he was a stoker for the coal-fired steam boilers. Not only did he work all night digging up the soil in huge glass houses, burying and reburying the grids needed to steam the ground, in appalling heat caused by the rushing vapour from the burner, but he also had to feed the voracious appetite of the beast, shovelling vast amounts of coal to keep the furnace burning. The rest of the year he lived for the toms, working 16–18-hour days to keep food on the table. And still he was my Dad and had a bit of time for us kids – but not a lot! My special memories are few, but include amazing times fishing together with him from the sea-wall on the island's west coast.

On this Fathers’ Day I miss him so much. I have such respect now for what he sacrificed for us, and love his sense of humour and physical strength, but I also have some regrets. I am sad that I did not listen to him enough, and that I did not ask him the questions I wish I could now. How did you and Mum meet? What happened to you after you were evacuated from Guernsey with all the children in your school year at the start of the German Occupation? How did your foster families treat you – and why did you have so many of them? If you had your time again, Dad, what would you have done differently?

But I can’t ask him any of that. Why didn’t I take the opportunity years ago? Now I am a father and a grandfather, and I want my heirs to know my story. But I have regrets about the Dad-shaped hole I have in my memory. If you still have your father, use today as an opportunity to sit and listen to his story. And ask your questions now before it’s too late. I wish I could hug Len Gaudion one more time today, perhaps even inhale that strong odour of tomatoes, sweat and aftershave. If you can still do that – pandemic rules permitting, then do it while you can.

If you didn’t have the privilege of having a really good father like mine, and are disappointed at the experience of being parented by yours, then maybe today is a chance to climb up onto the knee of your loving heavenly Father, and call him ‘Abba’ which means ‘Daddy’. There is not one tiny bit of abusive intent in his heart, nor anything that makes or loves a lie. In the purity of that relationship there is healing for us all this Fathers’ Day.

Is there any justice?

 

'Justice delayed is justice denied' is a phrase often attributed to the British Prime Minister W.E. Gladstone from a debate in 1868. It means that if there is a legal solution to an issue suffered by someone and yet it is not dealt with in a timely and efficient way, it is as bad as if justice had been denied altogether. Very wise, perhaps, and certainly applicable to many situations I can think of. Like that of the families of the 96 victims of the Hillsborough football disaster which happened in 1989 but has only reached court this week, only to be dismissed by the judge. Their justice has been both delayed and denied.

But there is another similar problem. Justice rushed is no justice at all. This week the UK media have been obsessed with the vengeful ranting of an ex-employee of the current Prime Minister, who has been spilling the beans very publicly in an attempt to justify himself and vilify his ex-bosses. Dominic Cummings has set himself up as judge and jury of the way that the UK government handled the Covid 19 pandemic, and has been deeply critical of all involved, especially the Prime Minister.

Perhaps the blame culture we live in today is not as helpful as we would like it to be. It is clearly too soon to gather all the evidence and assess the effectiveness of the handling of a pandemic that is still raging. Countries like South Africa and Seychelles are reporting signs of a third wave, and we simply cannot yet afford the luxury of hindsight. When the time does come for such reflection, what are our options? To imprison some, or to execute others? I don't think so. 

This was an unprecedented assault by a force outside of our human experience and faced by the whole world at pretty much the same time. Lessons should surely be learned for the next pandemic - and there will be others - but blame is such an empty exercise. Sometimes grief demands that someone should carry the can for the things, or the people, that we have lost, but loss and fragility are built-in to our humanity, and it can be unhelpful to be constantly scouring the horizon for someone to blame.

There will come a day, though, when we will all stand before the assizes of the ages, and the events and deeds of this life will be examined. We might expect justice then, but actually, we will be heavily dependent upon mercy. For mercy is better than justice. And mercy has a name - that name is Jesus!

When Broken Works Best

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. In addition to being a method of pottery repair, it’s also a philosophy, that treats breakage and repair as part of an object’s story, rather than something to disguise or to be ashamed of. The scars of being broken then become aspects of real beauty in the rebuilt articles. Such golden adhesive results in items that become more valuable after their near destruction than before they were dropped or smashed.

But this is nothing new to those of us who know our Bibles. Speaking of our bodies and lives as delicate containers of God’s glorious grace, St Paul said; ‘We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure’. (2 Corinthians 5:7 NLT) The more cracks there are, the more that light shines through! 

Rebuilt clay pots may still bear the marks of their ordeal, rather like my scars after 22 years of serious disease and multiple surgeries. But, in the same way as Kintsugi makes the item more valuable after its repair than before, when God rebuilds a broken heart, he gives us new hope and a new future.

With Jesus, there is always the possibility of a new start. Our scars then become a reminder, not of just how hard life has been, but of the depth from which God has lifted us. They point forward as well as backward and proclaim ‘I may not be what I would like to be, but I am not what I was’. 

 

Liberation at Last

This day, May the 9th, is our national day in Guernsey - our Liberation Day! Some folk in the UK are surprised when they learn that these British islands were under Nazi occupation for 5 long years, 1940-1945. Early in the Occupation an RAF plane had dropped leaflets over Guernsey containing a personal message from King George VIth promising “We will return...”, feeding the hope that would be finally fulfilled on the 9th May 1945.

The final few months of the Nazi presence in Guernsey were the worst, especially after D-Day. According to one eye-witness, Mrs Irene Dunk, who was the wife of Rev Gilbert Dunk, minister of Eldad Elim Church in the island's capital St Peter Port, both the local population and the occupying forces were cut off from outside supplies in a siege situation and starving. Only the arrival of the Red Cross ship the Vega at New Year 1945, bringing food parcels from Canada and New Zealand for the local people, brought any degree of relief. In a small booklet published some years ago, Mrs Dunk, who went on to live until aged 100, tells of surviving for three weeks along with her husband and their small child, on a diet of parsnips alone before those vital supplies were received.

Finally, the Allied Force 135 arrived off St Peter Port on May 8th, 1945, but even then, things were tense and frightening. The Commandant, a fervent Nazi named Admiral Huffmeier, had vowed that he would never surrender. There was a real possibility that the Allies might need to fight their way ashore against an opposed landing. When his deputy, a Leutnant Zimmerman, told the force to withdraw or else they would be fired upon, Brigadier Snow, the Force Commander, replied that if the Admiral fired upon them today, they would hang him tomorrow! Thankfully Huffmeier was over-ruled by his subordinates and the next day British troops poured into St Peter Port to be mobbed by grateful islanders.

We thank God for the freedom we enjoy today. When Gilbert Dunk stood cheering in the crowds at North Esplanade that first Liberation Day, a local preacher whom he knew grabbed his shoulder and yelled excitedly “this is the Lord’s doing and it is marvellous in our eyes!” (Psalm 118:23). God had heard their anxious appeals for deliverance and had brought them through great trials to eventual liberty. Through all the long years of deprivation and loss there had remained that hope for freedom, and a heart cry of prayer for its fulfilment. On this day, 76 years ago, that answer came.

The present pandemic is hard, and the virus a deadly enemy. Let's take hope from the fact that the long and terrible ordeal of our parents did end, and ours will too. When it does, it will be marvellous in our eyes too.

Is Anyone Listening?

 

My wife has been deaf for a few days. Voices have been raised - an unusual phenomenon in our house! At least, it's usually me that is turning the television volume up and complaining that young people just don't speak clearly anymore! Now, thanks to an infection of the sinuses and ears, the tables are turned. Even my loud invitation 'Would you like a cup of tea my love?' went without her acknowledging me with a brief nod. I was transmitting but she was not receiving! Thankfully, a course of antibiotic pills and a steroid ear-spray seem to be doing the trick, and life may soon return to its previous calm in our home.

But Diane's condition has alerted me to my own spiritual deafness. I serve a God who speaks. But I very rarely hear what he is saying. Only occasionally can I quieten the frantic clamour of smartphone, emails, tv news, social media and messaging to even ask if he has something to say. It seems that I suffer from the equivalent of congestion of the soul, or perhaps blocked spiritual sinuses!

What kind of father would I be if I didn't want to speak to my child, or grandfather that only spoke to their grandchild once a year or so? God is a loving heavenly Father, who delights to communicate with his children. He does so through his words in the Bible, but also by the whisper of his Spirit in our quietened hearts. He is speaking every day - but are we listening?

In George Bernard Shaw's play Saint Joan, the newly crowned King Charles says to Joan of Arc:

'Oh your voices, your voices. Why don't the voices come to me? I am king, not you.' Joan replies; 'They do come to you but you do not hear them. You have not sat in the field in the evening listening for them'.🞼 

Diane's deafness is thankfully short-lived. A course of medication will clear it, but my spiritual deafness may take a little longer to undo. Maybe I should pray the prayer of Samuel, the Old Testament prophet who said to God 'Speak Lord, for your servant is listening'?

🞼 quoted by Peter Lawrence in The Spirit who Speaks (DavidCCookUK, Eastbourne, 2011) 63.

Is there any Hope?

"Hope is vital - it's not a question of what you hope for, but who you hope in." These words on BBC Radio 4 recently challenged me. We all hope for things - whether for relief from pain or distress, a great holiday, or a home that is our own, and these are all legitimate. But hope for life beyond the grave is a huge ask. Nobody knows what waits for us there because no-one has come back to tell us.

But hang on a moment - somebody has! This Easter Day we celebrate the greatest day in history. Jesus Christ died on the cross for our sins on the first Good Friday and then rose again from the dead on the following Sunday. More than 500 eye witnesses confirmed sightings of him with some them touching his body and others speaking with him. The early Christian church would never have grown to become the world's major religion if the resurrection was a fraud or a lie. The disciples would not have given their lives as martyrs in painful deaths if they knew they had stolen the body. All the Jewish leaders had to do was go to the guarded tomb and produce Christ's remains and the new faith would have been stopped in its tracks. They did not because they could not. Christ is risen!

Through the storms of major illness that have come my way over the last couple of decades I have had several moments very close to death. I even reviewed my own 'final arrangements' again last week as I prepared to undergo potentially dangerous (for me) cardiac procedures in hospital a few days ago. One day I will walk that valley right through, but I have a serious and sustaining hope. Since Jesus rose from the dead I shall also rise, because I believe in and am following Him. Jesus said; 'Because I live, you shall live also' (John 14:19).

In the words of the Old Testament writer of the Psalms "Put your hope in God". The message of this great resurrection day is that hope in Him will see you through this life's struggles and even into eternity. Christ is risen indeed!
 

A Tomb with a View

 

There is a tomb with a view at the centre of the Easter story. A place of cold grief and bitter tears. A real tomb for a really dead man, not just somewhere for a swooned imposter to await rescue by his fellow conspirators. This is God's tomb, where God the Son tasted death for me. This is the devil's best, an attempt to wipe out the catalogue of miracles and mercy that Jesus wrote in Galilee and substitute his own pathetic offering of "always look on the bright side" and "did God really say..?" doubt.

It doesn't really surprise me that Jesus rose from the dead. He is the Lord of life after all, the creator of all that lives. What is amazing is that the broken body of Jesus lay shattered in this grave for as long as it did. There are all kinds of ideas as to what Jesus might have been doing during those days and nights, but for me the great miracle of Easter is that God entered human broken-ness at its lowest and darkest. Smashed by evil men, bloodied, crushed and discarded, - "this is my body, broken for you".

And the view from the tomb of Jesus is magnificent. Its light casts a quick flicker of hope over a place of suffering and pain, Golgotha or Calvary, and slowly expands towards the brilliant dawn that is already starting to change the colours we see only through our tears. Yes, this is God's tomb, but much more than that - it is MY tomb as well. For, in the words of the Apostle Paul, "I have been crucified with Christ" (Galatians 2:20). The old me is dead and buried, and just as Jesus breaks forth from the tomb outside Jerusalem, so I am set free by Christ from self, from having to impress others, even from the fear of death itself.

I am grateful that God knows what it feels like to suffer and die, and be laid in a tomb by weeping loved ones. I am glad that he understands my pain, and yours, and that he comes to us on our 'silent Saturdays' and dark nights of the soul. But I'm also rejoicing that the tomb is no longer in use as a grave. The Lord of life and glory could not be held by those chains of death. 

And here's an offer you won't see in many catalogues - it can be YOUR tomb as well! "Oh thanks Eric" I can hear you say "that's all I need on top of everything else I am suffering". But that's the whole point, this tomb is the place where you can lay your sufferings down, and your achievements, and stop trying to impress God and others. You can be identified with Jesus in His death also, and rise with Him to a completely new life! It may be Easter Saturday, but hey - Sunday's coming!

Have a very happy Easter!

Through Another Storm

Photos by Karen Langlois

Stormy seas near our home today. I love to walk near the shore, keeping well out of the way of the crashing waves, just smelling the salty breath of the angry sea. But I would not want to be out in a boat or travelling in these conditions.

It amazes me that the very same powerful blasts of gale-force winds provide an opportunity of a different kind to our local seabirds. They see these conditions as an occasion to celebrate! Soaring up into the grey sky, undeterred by the spray and spume, they frolic and play in the blasts of frosty air, gliding almost perfectly still at times.

The same storm that brings chaos and threatens life and safety to us provides these majestic creatures a reason to soar and rejoice. They know that when the storm does subside there will be new riches of food amongst the detritus thrown up by the maelstrom. Meanwhile the very winds that tear at our faces offer them the chance to get a bit of gliding practice in, like kids in white jeans and T-shirts arriving at their local skate park. 

Storms give us opportunities too. Tough times that make us afraid, cause us to stagger in our faith or confidence, may not seem like opportunities, but they can be. We can learn new skills in storms that can never be ours in millpond calm. Calling on God for His help becomes natural when the wind howls and we fear going under. Experiences of 'coming through' severe trials can change us, equip us, grow us. As St Paul writes, 'we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;  perseverance, character; and character, hope' (Romans 5:3-4).

And there is food - spiritual nourishment - in what is left following a storm. Nutrients found normally at enormous depth are cast up on the shore of our souls by the surging seas of what we go through in life. I write about these in my book Through the Storms. Maybe they are some of the 'riches stored in secret places' spoken about in Isaiah 45:3. In any case, the great thing about storms is that they do pass, and better days lie ahead. 

'We will win - that's what we do!'

 I find myself a little misty-eyed as I write this, having just watched the Livestream of the funeral service for Captain Sir Tom Moore. It was sad to see only 10 people in the Bedford crematorium as I'm sure many thousands would have gathered in a cathedral to honour a man who has captured the nation's heart during this pandemic. There were around 22,000 devices watching the Facebook Live stream with me, and probably many more on other media.

Coincidentally I have also just finished reading his autobiography 'Tomorrow will be a Good Day' and feel like I knew the man very well. I was so impressed with his high sense of duty, decency, determination, (I am running out of 'd's!) combined with unrelenting politeness, perseverance in trial and positivity. I love the fact that at 90 years old he travelled on his own to Kathmandu in Nepal and hired a small plane to fly around the summit of Everest! Two years later he was back in India again, this time in the company of his daughters, revisiting his wartime haunts. Famous for his £38.9 million fundraising for the NHS during 2020, this great man seemed indestructible - but he never claimed it so, acknowledging the privilege he had been given in living so long.

Elsewhere in the book Captain Sir Tom spoke endearingly of his quiet Christian faith, perhaps in keeping with that of the awesome lady of his own generation, Queen Elizabeth, who knighted him at Windsor last year. 

When speaking of the Covid virus pandemic he said: 'Faced with a common enemy, we were all in this together - comrades in arms - only now the battle was against a virus. And just like the war, I knew that we would win. We always do in this country. It often takes time, but we win. That's what we do'. The battle against Covid is a global one, and we can forgive the old warrior boasting of his own land, but the sentiment and positive example is stirring.

What I also find heartening about the adulation and attention being given to this unassuming and very normal little man, is the amount of respect being paid to the fading generation of which he was part. If there is any silver lining to the dark storm-cloud of the pandemic, it may be that so many of us have sacrificed and worked together to save the lives of as many senior citizens as we can. In a time when older folk were at best marginalised and ignored, and at worst maligned, mocked and abused, by a world obsessed with youth and looks, it is gratifying that millions have paused to honour the passing of a generation that suffered greatly, who accepted duty and sacrifice with equanimity and yet hope, and who laid down foundations of Christian behaviour from which we would do well to learn.

Farewell, Sir Tom. May God bless and comfort your dear family.

Baring our Hearts and not just our Arms

I was grateful for a mild fever last weekend. It was the day after my second vaccination against Covid-19 and although it meant a few hours with a headache or feeling a bit out of sorts, this was a good sign. My immune system was working away, identifying, and reacting to, the vaccine, and it quickly passed. I am so thankful for the huge crowd of folk who have made this possible, from the scientists who rose to the challenge of producing this great weapon against the virus, to the doctors, nurses and front-line vaccinators who are offering it in Guernsey today.

Yet, it was my choice to respond to the phonecall telling me that, due to my medical history, I was being offered this injection now. I have friends who have misgivings about it. I respect them but hope that in time they will come to see that this is God’s gift to our communities. It is something to be grateful for and not to be afraid of. But it will still be for them to choose. I cannot bare their arms for them. Scientists have developed vaccines against a variety of diseases, but even in countries where these vaccinations are readily available, often free of charge, the diseases have not always been eradicated. The reason? People must choose inoculation to enjoy immunity. This vaccination campaign in Guernsey, as elsewhere, is not mandatory. The science has provided the gift, but we must each choose to receive it. I hope that when your turn comes, you will feel able to do so.

There is another virus at work in our society today. The Bible calls it ‘the power of sin’ and it leads to all kinds of social and personal distress and disaster. God’s solution is ‘the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!’ (John 1:29). He has provided for us a way to be forgiven and to learn how to forgive. Through Jesus he offers us an intervention against both the power and the penalty of sin. But just as with Covid-19, everyone must make their own choice, baring not their arms this time, but their hearts. Without that moment of willing surrender, the process of healing and internal change cannot begin. But with it, a new life opens ahead of us, and God’s ‘new normal’ starts to appear.

 

Herald of Hope or Prophet of Doom?

Photo by Ian Taylor on Unsplash

"Discouragement is both dangerous and contagious. It is one of the devil’s most potent tools, because it mutes truth and muffles hope. Do you tend to be a prophet of doom? How might you be a herald of hope instead?" These words in my daily Bible reading notes⃰, got me thinking this morning. How much am I encouraging others? What proportion of my interaction with others, whether online or in person, gives someone else support, confidence, or hope? (This is the dictionary definition of 'encouragement').

These are tough times. With regard to the pandemic, the way ahead is not yet clear, though there are positive signs. It is not likely that we will see significant inroads into death tolls and hospital admissions with Covid-19 until well into the year, but hopefully by Easter. Whether that leads on to the restoration of 'normal life' is less likely in the short term. Travel and hospitality are bound to be impacted by the last 12 months, and large gatherings and social events are probably going to be treated with suspicion for some time to come.

But - better days are ahead! History teaches us that. The Spanish flu epidemic of 100 years ago did pass off after 18 months or so, and without a vaccine. The devastation caused by the two great wars of the 20th Century was overcome in Europe. The terrors of SARS and AIDS took a dreadful toll, but are now fading in the face of advances in medicine and lifestyle.

I happen to be married to one of life's great encouragers! For nearly 50 years Diane has brought laughter, warmth, hope and encouragement to me, through some of the darkest times imaginable. From being at my bedside in dingy, Dickensian hospital wards in London, to holding my hand through long periods of unconsciousness, this lady chose to be a 'herald of hope'. I salute her for that, and want to be like her. 

The greatest reason to encourage my own soul, and those of others, is the assurance that God is still in control of this universe and that He has a plan for its future. An old cliché rejoices that 'the future is as bright as the promises of God' and I believe it. God has an exciting plan for your life, and mine, and though it may involve passage through storms, the outcome is not in doubt. With Christ, better days are definitely ahead! 

⃰ https://content.scriptureunion.org.uk/wordlive/god-will-save-his-people 

Lockdown sorrow hits last pocket of resistance in Britain

 

Guernsey is finally in lockdown once again - the last place in the British Isles to succumb to the 'second wave' of Covid 19. Just 4 cases of community seeding - positive test results with no obvious link to travel or isolating individuals -meant the island's government took the difficult decision today to immediately shut down everything, including places of worship, restaurants, takeaways, close contact services, non-essential retail, the whole shebang. Whilst this is sad and potentially very tough for businesses, it is the kind of strong leadership that has enabled several Asian nations, including China itself, to deal with the virus very effectively thus far (less the human rights abuses and militaristic elements of course). Cracking down hard, quickly and completely, for a period, and then opening up very carefully seems to offer a methodology worth following. Our prayer is that this method will be equally efficient here.

But we cannot overlook the cost to individuals as well as businesses. Low income families in tight accommodation without gardens will feel it keenly. People who can't work from home will be afraid as they go about their necessary work. Frontline staff in our small hospital and other medical facilities will be wondering where all this might lead. Thankfully, there is hope:

• The medics know this virus by now (better the devil you know etc)
• The vaccine rollout is going well, offering the best chance of beating it
• Last year's experience means there are now some treatments that work in extreme cases
• Guernsey's community pulled together remarkably well last lockdown and overcame in due course
• Better weather is on the way (good to see some sun today) even if weeks ahead
• Previous plagues have just subsided even without a vaccine (Spanish flu etc)
• God hasn't resigned and is still occupying a throne on high
• The Holy Spirit is in us and makes the presence of God real (love, joy, peace etc)
• The Word of God is still true and all his promises are 'yes and amen' in Jesus
• We have a glorious future in Christ - even beyond the grave!

So, as we re-join the rest of Britain in restrictions like social distancing and masks, which we had enjoyed being without for months, I choose to be grateful not fearful, and to hope, not complain. I also want to be a source of real encouragement to others. Thankfully, we can keep in touch in so many ways. But, I'll be honest, I hope it won't be at all long before we can meet together again!

A Thin Stream of Fear

‘Worry is a thin stream of fear trickling through the mind. If encouraged, it cuts a channel into which all other thoughts are drained.’  So said US author Arthur Somers Roche (1883–1935).∗ I reckon he was right. I have never been to see the Grand Canyon but it was apparently caused by a small water stream originally, which finally cut its way through solid rock! 

In the grip of a global pandemic there is plenty of water in the streams feeding our fears. People are using social media to lob their own bucketfuls of fear filled paranoia into the debates about vaccination, the virus and the uncertainties of our age. Frightened folk are being led astray by conspiracy theories that belong in medieval England not the western world of the 21st Century. But we are where we are, and whilst we can do little about the pandemic, we are each responsible for dealing with our own fear and worry.

I try not to let fear make the decisions around here! I know there are some dreadful things going on, but I choose not to let them disturb my present or determine my future. Fear and worry can be paralysing and when I face scary situations I choose daily to believe God’s promises and trust in His presence to see me through. When I do wake up terrified, or suffer a flashback from the past, I offer it up in prayer to a God whom I know loves me, and try to choose to move on. I don’t always succeed but I feel it is important to keep fear at bay and focus on God’s presence and promises.

Jesus spelled out a really helpful antidote to worry in Matthew 6:25-34. “So don’t be anxious about tomorrow. God will take care of your tomorrow too. Live one day at a time" (v34). This is sound advice but not always easy to follow. What might make it easier is knowing how much we are loved. Once we know that, and remind ourselves of it daily, then the remorseless drip-feed of fears and worries can be gradually turned off at the source.

If somehow the tiny stream in the Arizona desert could have been damned and used for some other purpose millennia ago, the awesome depths of the Grand Canyon would never have been formed. Of course, the finger of God drew those imposing escarpments, even if He used the tiny stream like a crayon. And my fears may not seem significant now. The voice of the fearful conspiracy theorists might not appear much more than mischievous at this point, but if we don't deal with fear and worry at this early stage, things can get badly out of hand. Thankfully, perfect love does still cast out fear (1 John 4:18).

∗ Taken from WordLive by Scripture Union https://content.scriptureunion.org.uk/wordlive/worry-antidote 

 

Whose side are you on?

Recent events in Washington, where the Capitol was assaulted and occupied, albeit briefly, in a violent confrontation, have shocked and saddened millions. Even fervent supporters of the outgoing President appear to have been stunned by these developments. Democracy itself is under attack. These scenes were reminiscent of 1930’s Germany and the thuggery that marked the rise of fascism in Europe. Thankfully in this case it appears to have caused a national reset, a sharp intake of political breath, and hopefully lessons learnt. 80 years ago it led to world war.

Deep divisions seem to be causing distress in Western democracies of all shapes and sizes. In Britain, the Brexit debate triggered intolerance, anger, and tribalism. And Covid is putting strain on governments and economies in unprecedented ways, leading once again to strong divisions of opinions and conspiracy theories. In all these things, the drive to ‘circle the wagons’ and listen only to voices like our own is very real. This is true for Christians as much as anyone, but we must resist the temptation to withdraw into our defensive bunkers. Jesus said that his kingdom is not of this world, and neither should his people be, however strongly we might hold to political opinions of all colours. Neither should we allow fear to make the decisions around here.

In the Bible book of Joshua, chapter 6, the young zealot faced his greatest military challenge, the fight for the stronghold city of Jericho. The night before, he had a vision of a heavenly figure holding a great sword. Joshua’s question to this Divine being could almost have come from today’s America or Britain. ‘Are you for us or for our enemies?’ he enquired. The answer would have shocked Joshua. ‘Neither, but as commander of the army of the Lord I have now come’ (v14). Is God for us or for them? Joshua would have presumed that God was on his side, not theirs, but he was wrong. 

Jesus came into the world to establish a new world order where love, forgiveness, grace, and mercy would triumph over evil, oppression and wrongdoing. The cross of Calvary is where God judged our sin, not the Capitol in Washington nor the Palace of Westminster, and he calls his followers to be people committed to a ministry of reconciliation. The real question is not whether God is on our side, or that of the opposition, but whether we are on the Lord’s side?

 

Hope at the End of a Long Climb

 

Getting to the start of the New Year called 2021 is like arriving at the summit of really tough mountain climb. You have sweated and struggled, felt like you were falling again and again, wondered if the steep cliff face would ever yield, until you stagger to the peak, still shrouded in storm clouds, and the joy of the moment is in the hope of better days to come.

Happy New Year! Did I hear someone say 'well it can't be any worse than 2020!'? It is hard not to be cynical and wonder what new plagues may be lurking on the other side of the summit, but cynicism never achieved much. In fact, I once heard someone say that 'cynics gnaw away at their own skeleton' - harming only themselves. No, I want to breathe the high mountain air and enjoy the view and walk on with hope and gratitude in my heart. I need not fear 2021 because God is already there, and he is still faithful. I want to share with you the words of the book of Lamentations in the Message version of the Bible, as I find them helpful this pandemic New Year:

I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness,

    the taste of ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed.

I remember it all—oh, how well I remember—

    the feeling of hitting the bottom.

But there’s one other thing I remember,

    and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:

 

God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,

    his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.

They’re created new every morning.

    How great your faithfulness!

I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over).

    He’s all I’ve got left.

 

God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits, to the woman who diligently seeks.

It’s a good thing to quietly hope,

    quietly hope for help from God.

It’s a good thing when you’re young

    to stick it out through the hard times.

 

When life is heavy and hard to take,

    go off by yourself. Enter the silence.

Bow in prayer. Don’t ask questions:

    Wait for hope to appear.

Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face.

    The “worst” is never the worst.

 

Why? Because the Master won’t ever

    walk out and fail to return.

If he works severely, he also works tenderly.

    His stockpiles of loyal love are immense.*

* Scripture taken from The Message. Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of the NavPress Publishing Group.