Play it Again Sam!

I have lost count of the number of times Diane and I have flown to London for hospital treatment, but here we go again! Next Sunday morning (2nd Aug) we will set off for the capital and have a dangerous and delicate procedure repeated on Monday morning. Hopefully this will clear out clogged ducts again and set me up for the next few weeks! People sometimes ask us if we are going to "take in a show" while we are there! The only theatre we will be visiting will be in University College Hospital in Euston Road and the show is very boring indeed - so much so that I usually snooze my way through (most) of it.

When we fly through Gatwick Airport it is always so full of holiday makers and lots of excited children either about to embark on their break or arriving back tired out after an overnight flight from somewhere exotic. Another phrase people often use is "You could do with a break!"  Yes, thanks, great idea, yet have you noticed that when you go on a break you tend to take your body with you? Now take a break from this body of pain.. ah, that would be something else.  Even I could get excited in the terminal if the break included freedom from pain.

Our lives are in the hands of a God who never takes a break.  In fact, He neither slumbers nor sleeps!  He who watches over us is on duty 24/7/365. I'm so glad about that because it means that even in our disappointment and frustration we are travelling on His watch. And when those hands are fiddling with my innards on Monday? Actually, holding them are higher hands and I am glad.

The Power of Helping Hands

They had carried their friend a long way already when their way was blocked by crowds. Like a troop of soldiers gripping their fallen comrade following the urgent cry of "man down!" the young men faltered only for a few seconds. Of course, if the healer from Nazareth is in a house there will be scores, if not hundreds, of people trying to get in. In a flash they changed their battle plan and set to again to reach Jesus inside the house. Climbing to the flat roof they flung the roofing material aside and like bearers at a graveside prepared to lower their mate down with strips of cloth, down to the feet of Christ.

And they got their miracle. Their pal was not only healed, his whole life was changed - and all this because of the power of helping hands.

I am so grateful for the people who help me in my pain. As I write this now I can see your faces, some smiling some crying, some creased with joyful laughter, but all expressing love and concern. I thank God for you all. It gives me confidence that I am not alone and that there will always be some who will bring me before the Lord, carried in their prayers, no matter how many things crowd to stand in their way. And I want to do the same for you too. Because we fight a common foe whose attacks may hit any of us. Whenever you hear the cry "man down!" remember that this is why God "sets the solitary in families" and that he has set healing power in helping hands.

Those hands have lifted me!

Ground Hog Day!

It hardly seems possible but I am having to get back to London on Monday (15th June) for even further surgical work on my pancreas the next day to try and clear out the stones and debris in the pancreatic duct that is making me so unwell. I have a fever, extreme nausea and appalling pain, all of which are signs that I am blocked again, only one month on from the last trip to University College London Hospital. There are no words that can adequately describe my disappointment that this is the pathway mapped out for me, but I am determined to make every day count for the kingdom of God. It is so much easier to say or to write that than it is to do it, and life is throwing up some very real challenges each day at the moment. I feel that we have to just 'batten down the hatches' and choose to trust in the midst of the storm as we are buffeted and blown about by swirling gusts and opposing tides.

I have been doing some writing just recently as I have been asked to contribute to Scripture Union's Encounter series of daily devotional Bible readings. The study is doing me good and I hope that in some small way others may be helped and encouraged by these thoughts in due course. I was really challenged and blessed by these amazing words from the book of Hebrews "Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today and for ever" (Hebrews 13:8). Along with that amazing statement came into my mind a line from an old hymn "...has He lost His heart of pity? Is the risen Christ less strong?".  My heart shouts 'no' into the tearing wind, and I stretch out my hand one more time, more in desperation than faith, and take hold of a reality that will give me an anchor to prevent me slipping away in the raging storm.

Keep the faith!

Catch Up Time

Recent events have kept me from posting in my blog as I have been through another prolonged period of struggling to get through life with a dodgy pancreas! This 'infernal internal' gives me so much trouble that I often wonder if I could do without it. The answer is yes - but to get there would involve massive surgery in a much operated on organ full of scar tissue etc and may result in me being a brittle diabetic. Besides, experience shows that these huge and demanding ops don't always resolve pain for the sufferer. Time will tell, and I will be guided by my excellent pancreatic/biliary team, but I thank God that my life is held in higher hands than theirs!

This recent crisis resulted in another admission to UCLH in London and yet another dangerous and delicate procedure under anesthetic to clear out my pancreatic duct (for the 8th time in recent months). They found that my duct was so blocked with stones and debris that the metal stent that had been fitted a few weeks ago to enable flow had itself been pushed right out of the duct by the pressure! The pain has been out of this world. I saw recent research which shows that pancreatic pain is the worst a man can know - as the pancreas is full of pain-transmitting nerves. It certainly is the worst I have ever known! So now I am home again with no stent. The strictures they found in the duct are just the same, and my propensity for making stones and sludge is undiminished, so I don't know how long it will be before another attack of acute pancreatitis puts me back in hospital, but I hope and pray for relief.

Some people ask me how I cope with all this.  I often answer that I am not sure I do cope some of the time!  I get through and keep on going, despite over a hundred hospital admissions and two decades of battling this disease, largely due to the prayers, love and support of others, most notably my wonderful wife Diane. I also know that God is with me, and that Jesus is alive and real - a very present help in trouble as he is described in the Bible. I also know that my body is an amazing machine - even my tiny Pomeranian dog has a pancreas - and the One who made me can mend me, In the meantime, I choose to trust him and wait for whatever he has planned for me in love. Thanks for your interest and prayers.

Decision Day!

After 4 weeks of incessant electioneering in the UK I expect most folk there must be thoroughly fed up with it! We will have our own general election in 2016 here in Guernsey so we are not part of it, but as most of our media comes from the UK we are subjected to the overflow. It seems to me from a distance that there are big choices to be made at this election and I pray that the right outcome will prevail. One thing that is clear is that just about every vote counts and so I hope if you have a vote in the UK you plan to use it in a week's time.

Choices!  Life is full of them. Many of them are trivial - which coffee to buy, what kind of soap etc - but some are life-changing. When I was away at a Christian Healing Centre a couple of weeks ago I was presented with a very difficult choice indeed. Those kind folk who were listening to my story and ministering to me in prayer felt that I needed to choose to do God's will with joy even if that includes pain for me. As I write this now I am in intense pain, and under the influence of morphine. A recent op in London (the latest of several this year) appears to have failed yet again and the pain is extremely hard to bear. Yet, when challenged a fortnight ago to make my choice I did so, albeit with great difficulty, and I elect to stick with it today. I am content to let God set the agenda in my life whatever that may mean for me. So far it appears to have involved the most painful disease known to man - pancreatitis. In the future I hope that it will include healing and recovery but I am not certain of that.  All I am sure of is that there is a God who loves me, and if he never does take away my pain he has already done so much for me in his Son Jesus Christ that I can trust him for time and for eternity to do what's right for me.

For me, the choice as to who rules my life is not expressed in a ballot box but in my heart. I recall the words of a very special prayer, prayed each New Year in the Methodist Covenant service.  It goes:
"(Lord) - I am no longer my own but yours.
Put me to what you will, rank me with whom you will;
put me to doing, put me to suffering;
let me be employed for you or laid aside for you,
exalted for you or brought low for you.
Let me be full, let me be empty, let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things to your pleasure and disposal.
And now, glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
you are mine and I am yours.
So be it... Amen"

Hmmm. Can you say 'Amen' to that? On May 7th in the UK you will express your choice with a cross.  God has also set out his desire for us at a cross, but we must daily cast our vote.

Trusting When it Seems so Wrong to me

Last week I had a few glorious days at Harnhill Christian Healing Centre in Gloucestershire, a truly wonderful place of ministry, peace and quietness. I went to wait on God for his guidance in my life but also to receive prayer for healing. I was not disappointed and really enjoyed my time there, but I learned some valuable lessons by just observing nature around me. With the warm weather that week and the sights and sounds of scores of new born lambs leaping in the sunshine it felt like a glimpse of heaven! I saw one ewe give birth to triplets, only then to discover that there was a fourth lamb on its way. This tiny creature slithered into the world and the long-suffering mother began to lick off the protective yellow coating with a sigh as if it had just come in home late after falling in a puddle. Yet the beauty of the week was challenged by the fact that the farmer had to then remove two of the lambs due to the ewe not being able to suckle them all. He seemed almost heartless in his matter-of-fact approach to his task even though I knew him to be a man who cared deeply for his sheep. The bereaved ewe could not have known this but those lambs would be given to other sheep that had lost their own lambs by being stillborn. There was method in his harshness and even a touch of mercy in his apparent indifference to her bleating cries.

Clearly from the ewe's point of view the shepherd was being really harsh and cruel, taking away her precious offspring and the fruit of her hard work. Only he really knew what the gift of those lambs would mean to some distant bereaved sheep, perhaps even on some other farmer's land as they co-operated together in lambing time. Being a shepherd is a tough job and those who undertake it are not soft, though they are usually well meaning and wise. Our divine shepherd asks us to keep on trusting him even when his actions may cause us grief or pain. Having been a patient in a London hospital many times in the last 12 months I have reflected on this mystery often. What I have discovered is that in every circumstance of life it is important for the sheep to keep trusting Jesus who described himself as "the good shepherd who gives his life for the sheep". No flock could ask for more from its shepherd even if they fail to understand his methods. He has good plans for us even in the difficult times. He knows what he is about and our job is to welcome him and trust in him.

So Harnhill was good for me.  It enabled me to reaffirm my confidence that I am willing to let God set the agenda in my life even if that means the awful pain I go through daily. I can't discern or describe any worth or purpose in this but I do acknowledge that my 'good shepherd' has a plan and I choose to trust in him.  And you?

Easter Saturday - a place of comfort and strength!

"It's Friday - thank God Sunday's coming!" is an attitude to Easter that I can understand. But Saturday seems to have fallen off the Christian radar as an irrelevant day. Jesus died on Friday - so that dreadful day becomes Good Friday for those who realise that he died to obtain our salvation, the forgiveness of our sins. Sunday is self-evidently the highlight of the Easter story. Jesus did not remain dead, he rose again and destroyed the power of death over our lives. But hey - don't forget Saturday!

At the heart of the amazing achievements of the first Easter is a day of disappointment. The great teacher and prophet is dead. Hope lies discarded in a Middle Eastern tomb. Despair and sorrow are the emotions filling the hearts of all those who loved Jesus. Except perhaps for one. Joseph of Arimathea was the one who asked Pilate for the broken body of Jesus. It was he who pulled out those cruel nails and laid the frail frame down, wrapping him in a clean linen cloth. Then he carried the bloodstained mess to his own garden and laid it in the grave that he had prepared beforehand. I reckon that Joseph had heard and understood the prophecies Jesus made about his coming death and resurrection. He welcomed Saturday as a vital part of the Easter story. He knew that for the power of the Easter message to work there had to be a pit of despair and death in his spring garden. In a miracle much more profound than Christmas Joseph carried the Lord of Glory as a broken corpse and welcomed mystery into the heart of his faith.

As I face my own twentieth Easter with the appalling pain of chronic and recurring acute pancreatitis I find comfort waiting in the garden belonging to Joseph of Arimathea. I find the "now but not yet" message of the Kingdom of God becomes clearer sitting and waiting outside this cold tomb. My Jesus is Lord of Easter Saturday with all its pain and disappointment even if it does not look like it. His broken body did not stay that way but the fact that it was even laid in a cold stone tomb gives me hope.  Of course I can't stay here - because he is not here now He is risen! My own body will one day be like his resurrected body and until that day I choose to embrace the mystery of as-yet unanswered prayer and trust that God knows what he is doing. But for today I take comfort from my Saviour's tomb. "It's Saturday - but thank God Sunday's coming!"

As I prepare to leave for London again on Monday, the tenth such trip for medical help and hospital visits in the last 12 months, I can't help reflecting on the fact that it is the start of Holy Week. My particular battle is with physical pain so that for me, the cross of Calvary is very pertinent, and the sufferings of Jesus there for me seem stark and real like the sudden death of a close friend or loved one. It is amazing that my God should plan it that way so that the maker of the universe was made subject to the most appalling pain on my behalf. There was no accident about this.  Jesus did not stumble into taking my bullet - like the Indian clerk who takes the shot for the lead character in television's Indian Summers - no, he chose to go that way and experience that pain because he loves me and cares so deeply about my destiny.

For that reason alone my pain becomes more bearable.  But there is more. This Jesus did not stay dead. Against all scientific reason and historic precedence he rose again on the third day. Now by his death and bodily resurrection Jesus becomes the means of my own redemption from sin and death. My pain is temporary.  It may be extreme at times, and I long for it to be over, but even if I am not healed this side of eternity, and I pray ever day that I will be, I know where I am going when I do die. Not for me the 'hope so' uncertainties of balancing scales or trying to climb a crumbling pile of good works to see over my skip loads of mistakes and regrets, no!  Because he lives then we who trust him will also live!  His empty grave is our visa and his book of life our passport.

So in this momentous week for every Christian I set off to face the uncertainties of a delicate and dangerous surgical procedure knowing that all will be well. Easter changes everything. 'Calvary covers it all'.

One Step at a Time

After nearly two decades of battling serious ill health and severe pain I am learning to take each day one step at a time. It can be very difficult to do this, especially because I like to have my path well laid out before me and prefer to know where I am going and what is just around the next corner. But that is not how God has led me and life has definitely been, as the old song title has it 'One Day at a Time'.

In the last few months I have been back and forth to London with monthly interventions at University College London Hospital. Each time we have been there Diane and I have looked at each other and said 'this must surely be the last time!' but we have been wrong.  Despite the dangerous and difficult nature of these surgical procedures, and the fact that I seem to be becoming immune to the anesthetics being used so that the last couple of occasions are clear in my memory, it seems that I must have yet another one. So we will leave for London on March 30th for admission on the morning of Tuesday 31st and spend a few more days away while we seek an answer to my desperate situation.

But this step by step approach to medicine and treatment is no stranger to the Christian pilgrim. Our journey of faith is one of daily increments in our walk with God. Any attempt to hurry the divine will or rush ahead seems doomed to failure as we discover that this Christian life is a walk and not a mad dash to heaven! 'Step by step as you go the way shall open before you' is God's promise to us all and we need daily grace to be able to accept that.

So despite the natural fear and disappointment of facing it all again, I guess I need to stretch out and take one more step on this journey, praying that the outcome will turn out to have been a giant leap in securing victory and getting well again. Please Lord!

Leaders who don't Listen!

Over a month ago I wrote a passionate letter to a senior medical consultant doctor asking for answers to several important questions. I have not yet received a reply, and from speaking to his assistant I know he received it but do not expect a response. At this time in the UK an election is looming and although it doesn't affect us in Guernsey I watch with interest the antics of the leaders involved. Now the sitting Prime Minister, one David Cameron, has refused to engage in debate with the leader of the main opposing party on television during the actual election campaign itself. Ed Milliband is urging him to do so, as is much of the general public, but the PM is above all that! He appears to be yet another leader who does not listen!

The Bible tells us about a leader like that. The apostle Paul wrote a letter to one Diotrephes asking him to engage in debate, and the church leader refused. According to the text Diotrephes 'loved the pre-eminence' or 'loved being first' and felt he was above entering into debate with anyone, least of all Paul.  Truth be told, he was probably afraid that he might lose that theological contest and so refused to budge, but the real reason was arrogance. In the case of a previous UK Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher, a very similar haughtiness preceded her political downfall. "Pride" as the saying goes "precedes a fall".

I don't expect either my consultant or the Prime Minister will suffer any great consequences from not being willing to answer questions and debate their position, but after a lifetime of leadership roles within the church, I hope for better things from Christian leaders. Diotrephes is a very poor role model for Christian leaders, who should always be ready to give an answer for the faith that is within them, for their conduct, and for the sacred charge that is given to them by the Lord. Any leader who finds him or herself loving 'being first' should note the example of Jesus who washed his disciples feet and declared that they who desire to be first among us should be servants of all. That is a long way from the kind of leadership we see in the worlds of politics and medicine, but we are entitled to expect better of those who lead the church.

Clearing out blockages...

I wish it was as simple as cleaning out a blocked drain.  Unfortunately, stents in the pancreatic duct are not quite as easy to deal with! After only 3 weeks from my last procedure in London I am already aware that the two stents which were inserted into my duct are blocking already. What sorrow this has brought to me, and frustration. When there is a blockage anywhere in the body, the whole body feels unwell. There is great pain, of course, in anything to do with the pancreas, which is situated so close to major pain carrying nerves so that any inflammation or blockage causes immense discomfort and pain. But there are other effects also, all pointing towards this same problem.

The same is true of course, in other areas of our lives.  When there is a blocked duct or tube then communication is hindered and the whole of life gets out of kilter. Whether in our minds or in our marriages, we need to keep using the old plunger if we want to stay healthy. In the Bible book of Genesis 26:17 the Old Testament character Isaac went to the wells that his father Abraham had used and which had been filled up and blocked with stones and soil and he cleared them out. This determination to clear out the ducts and draw water from the same source as his godly father brought Isaac mixed blessings. His enemies hated him all the more for it but God saw his actions and commended him by repeating the promises to Isaac that He had first made to his dad. A cleared duct was all it took for Isaac to be completely renewed in his faith.

I wonder what might be blocking your ducts? I know what's blocking mine and it will mean yet another trip back to hospital in London eventually to get it sorted out. But there are plungers we can use for some of the other channels that get stopped in our lives. Forgiveness, re-commitment, surrender, prayer, all can assist us in getting the life-giving ducts of our hearts clear. Whatever it takes it must be easier than what I am facing, so why wait?  Get plunging today!

Will I Ever Learn? - Snowbound Enthusiasm

This is not what our back yard looks like today - this is how it was in March 2013! But today we are waiting for the threatening snow that is expected to hit our community, and it is proving to be a bit of a disappointment! Yet, if I turn my mind back to 2013 I can still remember how bad the experience was. We were unable to fly in or out of our island for three days, during which my wife was in Southampton with our son and daughter-in-law for the immensely difficult hospital birth of our first grand-child. I longed to get there to be with them but could not. I had recently undergone surgery (again!  Am I ever not?) and had stitches in, and burst them while shoveling snow! I had to be restitched but couldn't get to the hospital - grrrrr it was a dreadful experience full of frustration and extreme cold. So, why am I secretly hoping that it might snow again?  What kind of masochistic longings do I have to want to go through anything as horrible as that again?

Well, I suppose the old adage holds some truth, that time does heal. I have forgotten the feelings of frozen fingers and toes, the soaking wet freezing mess that goes down your neck when snow falls off the roof onto your shoulders.  And mostly, I have allowed the pain of that experience to fade and am ready for another go! What?  Am I crazy? Or maybe I am not alone in this child-like delight in a blanket of snow on a winter's morning.

The truth is that it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, and even in the most adverse of circumstances there is something we can marvel at if we have a mind to try. The old story is told of two men who looked out of the same prison bars, one saw the mud and the other the stars. It is all a matter of perspective and, awful as it was, those terrible days of March 2013 did pass, and dear Maggie, our grand-daughter, is doing well now and we love her very much. My wound did eventually heal and I did get to Southampton to be alongside Diane.

And I wouldn't mind if it snowed tonight!  Do you think it will? Oooooh - how exciting is that?

'A pill for every ill' - is the oral myth of the 21st Century. It says that there must be a cure for everything and if there isn't then there should be. Our Western sophistication has led us astray and given us unrealistic expectations of the medical profession. They can treat and care, but only God heals. They can cut and cauterise, but only the Creator recreates and cures. As a long-term user of the medical services because of chronic ill health lasting over two decades I have come to see that we simply cannot expect that our every problem can be fixed in the surgery or the treatment room. The long lines of waiting ambulances queuing up outside UK Accident and Emergency rooms is testimony to the fallacy. Thank God for the expertise and excellent care that is given us but we really should not expect too much from them.

Our God is a healing God.  One of his names is 'the God that heals you' and even before Jesus began his amazing miracle ministry God has revealed his desire to heal and restore those whose lives have been blighted by disease. My long experience of illness has not dimmed my understanding of this great truth nor my hope that he will heal me. I submit to his sovereignty and great wisdom, and acknowledge that he has plans for my life that I cannot understand this side of eternity, but my hope is in God - not in the medics. That does not make me anti-medicine. No, I am pro-recovery and that puts me on the same side as the medics!

I was deeply moved by the kindness expressed in the voice of a young registrar from University College London hospital who telephoned me today to say they are expecting me next week. I felt sorry for his obvious frustration and sympathy for me in my extremely painful condition, and was touched by his desire to help me. I am grateful, but I wanted to reassure him that I am not expecting him to heal me.  To treat me yes - but not to heal me - because that job belongs to God. And into his loving, healing hands I commend myself once again.

Change of Plan

As 2015 begins we islanders are being faced with a bracing rash of road closures. Routes that have been long part of local travel-lore are suddenly shut to us as pipes burst, mains need laying, cables require maintenance and surfaces damaged by flooding and heavy lorries require renewal. So with the usual dogged perseverance we accept the inevitable and fume in line as we waste time and fuel on long finger-tapping diversions. The good thing is that nowhere over here is far and we will all get there in the end, we just may need to take the scenic route for a while!

Recalling my long habit of getting very frustrated by diversions and sudden changes of plan I remember one wag suggesting that such things are sent to enable our souls to catch up with our bodies. I doubt very much that my soul is far behind my body these days as I have slowed down considerably, but there is a lesson in this for me anyhow. These changes of my plan are not unplanned - it's just a different plan!  There is a higher power who knows what he is about even if I don't!  I was supposed to be having surgery this January at the Princess Elizabeth hospital in Guernsey but the anesthetist decided I was too unfit to proceed. Apparently I need to get back to London and face another of these difficult and dangerous pancreatic procedures to replace yet another prematurely blocked stent. I can feel my soul trying to tell me to calm down and keep trusting.

So it is more of the same in this New Year. All I pray is that I may know him more clearly and follow him more nearly so that my diversions will be guided by His all seeing eye. Happy New Year!

Take Heart

As we enter the New Year in less than 24 hours I find myself feeling a mixture of sorrow and hope. Sorrow at what has been a very difficult year for us as a family and hope that this new year is full of opportunity. As I spent a few moments this morning in reflection and prayer I came across this verse from the book of Psalms "Praise be to the Lord, to God our Saviour, who daily bears our burdens." (Psalms 68:19) and then in the New Testament book of Hebrews these words of Jesus ""Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you." (Hebrews 13:5).

In our saddest moments during 2014 we have not been left alone. God has been with us even though we have not found it easy to discern his presence at times. I have a very close friend, Martyn, whose dear wife Gill died suddenly just over a year ago, and who found great help and comfort in his grief in a song by Fernando Ortega, "Take Heart my Friend" and it has become precious to me also.  In the dark nights of pain I have played it often. It has been my encourager as I have sat in my car watching the waves pounding angrily on the sea-shore. As I face tomorrow with its wet sand just waiting to be written upon by whatever God has planned for Diane and me, I do take heart from the fact that we are not alone. Read the lyrics here and see if they help you also.

Take heart my friend, we'll go together
This uncertain road that lies ahead
Our faithful God has always gone before us
And He will lead the way once again

Take heart my friend, we can walk together
And if our burdens become too great
We can hold up and help one another
In God's love, in God's grace

Take heart my friend, the Lord is with us
As He has been all the days of our lives
Our assurance every morning
Our defender in the night

If we should falter when trouble surrounds us
When the wind and the waves are wild and high
We will look away to Him who rules the waters
Who spoke His peace into the angry tide

He is our comfort, our sustainer
He is our help in time of need
And when we wander He is our shepherd
He who watches over us, never sleeps

Take heart my friend, the Lord is with us
As He has been all the days of our lives
Our assurance every morning
Our defender in the night

Take heart my friend, the Lord is with us
As He has been all the days of our lives
Our assurance every morning
Our defender in the night

When the time comes, Diane and I wish you all a very Happy New Year!

Lighten our Darkness

It is so appropriate that in our part of the world Christmas comes at the darkest time of the year. Displays of light, whether consisting of candles or LED's, abound as we make the most of this dark season to proclaim the coming of 'the light of the world'. But in another sense this reminds me that every year, almost without fail, the most appalling acts of darkness, natural or unnatural disasters, seem to take place at or around Christmas. Even in my own short memory I recall events like the Penlee lifeboat disaster from 1981 in which 8 volunteer life-boatmen gave their lives to rescue the crew of a sinking freighter at Christmas. Then there was the dreadful downing of the Lockerbie PanAm flight right near the special day, and of course, 10 years ago, I was in London for hospital treatment when Diane came back from a Boxing Day carol service to say that thousands were feared dead in a terrifying tsunami. By the time that particular horror had run its course nearly a quarter of a million people had perished - what a Christmas! And then this year we have wept at the savage, inhuman slaughter of the little ones in Pakistan.

But then, like it or not, that's how Christmas started out. We love to idealise the stable scene with its kneeling wise men, adoring shepherds and hushed animals all worshiping the baby in the manger, but the reality included much less savoury facts. The young parents in Bethlehem were very soon to be engulfed with the most appalling sorrow as every child under 2 years of age was put to death by evil King Herod. The young Jesus with his Mum and Dad escaped as refugees like thousands of others in Jordan and Syria today, leaving behind them mourning and crying as the prophet Jeremiah described so powerfully, "Rachel crying for her children and not able to be comforted".

Why is there this dark side to Christmas?  Just co-incidence?  Maybe if you subscribe to the co-incidence view of history, but I prefer to recognise that the coming of Jesus was the greatest threat to the powers of darkness that they had ever faced, or would ever face. Just as evil King Herod feared that this baby had come to take away his kingdom and power, so there are forces in our world that tremble at the sound of the songs of Christmas. The birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus are the hinges on which the door of human history hangs. As we celebrate his coming this Christmas let's not lose sight of the dark side but rejoice that the light has come! "Joy to the world, the Lord has come.  Let Earth receive her king!" Amen to that!

Pre-Christmas Exhaustion and its Cure!

A mum was out Christmas shopping with her two children. After many hours of looking at row after row of toys and everything else imaginable; and hearing both her children asking for everything they saw on the shelves, she finally made it to the lift to leave the store. She rubbed her weary eyes with a hand weighed down with three loaded carrier bags and sighed as she waited for the lift to come to her floor, the kids pulling constantly on her coat sleeves and screeching in tired frustration. She was feeling what so many of us feel during this time of the year. Overwhelming pressure! Pressure to go to every party, or get the kids to theirs, taste all the holiday food and treats, get that perfect gift for every single person on our shopping list, not forgetting anyone on our card list, and the pressure of making sure that Christmas is altogether 'magical'.

Finally the lift doors opened and there was already a crowd inside. She pushed her way into the lift and dragged her two kids in with her and all the bags of stuff. When the doors closed she couldn't take it anymore and muttered with bitter resignation, "Whoever started this whole Christmas thing should be found, strung up and shot." From the back of the lift everyone heard a quiet calm voice respond, "Don't worry, we already did that - we crucified Him." For the rest of the trip down the lift was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

It can be so hard to keep our heads above water at this time of the year and find space to maintain our own peace, and especially our walk with God.  I don't think Jesus invented the modern Christmas and must be feeling pretty left out of it all anyway. But I came across a really helpful translation of a passage in the ancient gospel of Matthew that just about sums up what Jesus might say to us if we had a minute for him. "Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." (Matthew 11:28 – 30 from The Message).

If Christmas feels "heavy or ill-fitting" we can be pretty sure Jesus didn't lay it on us, and maybe we should spend a few moments tuning his way at a time supposed to be all about him? Give it a go anyway and see if you can get through this season "freely and lightly".

Fragile but Precious

When people ask me how I am now in the aftermath of recent medical intervention I usually reply 'Doing well - but fragile!'. This got me thinking about fragility generally and especially as we start receiving parcels marked 'FRAGILE' in advance of Christmas. What does it mean and what do I mean when I use it to describe my state of health? The dictionary offers two meanings for the word - "able to be broken easily" and "in a weakened physical state" and so it's the latter sense that I am using. But there is another aspect of the word that takes my interest - the fact that so many precious things are fragile. Glass ornaments, prized artefacts, antiques, sensitive technical equipment, medical kit - all these important and valuable things may be described as 'fragile'.

When faith is fragile it is sometimes open to criticism, especially from those whose faith is robust and strong. Like the man who used to get sand kicked in his face in the advert for muscle-building products, Christians can feel intimidated at times when their faith is fragile. Perhaps in the aftermath of trauma or bereavement, or the barren wasteland of loss and disappointment, faith can be especially fragile as we travel the journey of our lives. Yet this fragility itself speaks to us of the precious nature of the cargo. Our faith - whether fledgling faith like that of Jesus' disciples or bruised faith like that of those of us who have suffered long and hard - is of immense value to God.

You see, just a little faith placed in a mighty God can achieve amazing things! A small and faltering step taken on a strong bridge will get us so much further than confident stamping on a shaky artificial temporary walkway! When we see that someone else's faith is fragile, let's not be too quick to criticise. In fact, when illustrating the power of faith placed in God, Jesus took the smallest of all the seeds in a Middle-Eastern garden, the mustard seed, to show how precious such faith can be. So instead, maybe we need to back off and pray that their small and fragile faith may be placed in a powerful and loving God and so bring forth the fruit that it is capable of producing in the long run.

Till then, I'm doing OK thanks, but fragile!

Doing it Afraid - Again!

It's never easy to face surgery again. I say again because of the number of times I have been through this before. Going into the theatre and lying down for this particular procedure on the table, waiting for them to put me out, is a very lonely place to be. It's always very cold due to the extreme air-conditioning and the fact that the poor patient is virtually naked under a thin surgical gown.  As each of the people present introduce themselves to me one by one their names go immediately out of my mind because I am TERRIFIED! I smile politely at each of them a bit like Mary Queen of Scots is said to have tipped her executioner so that he would make a good job of it with his axe. I am always reminded of the old gospel song that goes "You've got to walk that lonesome valley, You gotta walk there by yourself.  And no-one else can go there for you, You gotta go there by yourself!"

Yet I am not alone, not really alone. Once a long time ago, when one of these very same ops had put me into Intensive Care for several weeks, and I came very near to death (another reason why I get so scared!!), I felt the presence of Jesus very real with me indeed. In the midst of my terrifying ordeal, and very near the end, I felt him come to me and imagined that I could feel him sitting on the bed. You may think it was the drugs that caused all that but I know differently. There was something supernatural about the calm that came into my fevered mind and my pain-wracked body at that moment.  I wrote about it in my book Braving the Storm. It changed my whole life at that time and it still has an effect today.  Because on Monday, when I lie down on that table and they are inserting tubes and lines into all manner of orifices and veins, I will hush my heart with the image of the face of Christ, and remind myself of his words 'Lo, I will be with you always, even to the end of the age'.

And I will get through it.  Not without fear. Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the will to go through despite one's fear. As Joyce Meyer says often in her television broadcasts, I will be 'doing it afraid'. And that's the only way to do it really. Honestly!

Growing through Storms

When storms come they usually leave a mess behind. Some well built structures get thrown around and carefully constructed items can lose their shape and purpose completely. How we deal with the shock, sadness and disappointment caused by all this determines whether we grow through the storm or are diminished by it. Certainly the equivalent of surges and storm force weather in my life have recently caused me quite a lot of pain and not a little disappointment too. The amazing pain control system placed surgically within my spine nearly four years ago and then renewed this July has lost its effectiveness completely. I am being told stuff about the nerves of the body growing tolerant or getting scarred so that they no longer pass the pain-relieving current as they did at first.

A month ago I had a stent fitted to my pancreatic duct to try and bridge a stricture and relieve the pressure and pain. There followed two or three weeks of relative calm.  I really thought this was it!  They have cracked it at last! Then the symptoms returned big time. Now it appears that the stent is blocked and so I must return to UCLH in London to have it removed and replaced with a larger one. The disarray in my life is great though not complete. My carefully constructed plans are once again thrown into a mess. I have to cancel a visit to the Lake District next week to attend a writer's retreat and put off a friend who was coming to eat with us over this weekend.  Grrrr!  Frustration and pain.

But it is so good to know that I have a shelter in these storms, in fact, in every kind of upheaval that life throws at us. Peace in a time of storm, hope when despair threatens, the assurance of eternal life in Christ, the comfort given by knowing that I am loved, the constant reassurance I find in my precious wife and her amazing support of me, the fellowship of praying friends - WOW! Like mid-Western Americans slowly climbing out of their hurricane shelters to witness the devastation that the storm has brought, I am saddened and shocked - but I know this damage is only temporary.  It will be repaired because ultimately my life is not a series of accidents and storms, but is held by a hand greater than my own. You can read more about this in my first book Braving the Storm.

I recall that, whilst gazing on desolation in the deserted streets of the destroyed city of Jerusalem a few hundred years ago, Jeremiah the prophet wrote "Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:22-23). That perspective gives me hope. God is not finished with me yet. His mercies are new each morning and He still has a plan for my life. Well, maybe we'll get this mess cleared up soon eh?