When Christmas Hurts

We have just returned home after an eventful few days in the Channel Island of Jersey. We were there to visit our family and take gifts ahead of Christmas, but we found this island community, best known for its dairy herd (above), potato crops and finance industry, plunged into shock and grief by a double tragedy. At the end of last week the ferry from the UK and Guernsey collided with a Jersey fishing trawler and the crew of 3 fishermen appear lost presumed dead. In the early hours of Saturday morning this was followed by a massive explosion in the capital, St Helier, in which it is now known that 9 are dead, and possibly a few more will be found in the wreckage of their apartment building, almost certainly devastated by a gas blast. We stood quietly with thousands of islanders in Jersey this morning at 11am in a one minute silence to mark the sense of loss, grief and sadness that has engulfed this small community.

It is strange that Christmas so often seems marked by tragedy. I remember the Penlee lifeboat disaster from the 19th December 1981, and the downing of the PanAm flight 103 on December 21st 1988. Perhaps that is because our emotions are heightened in this season as we think of family far away and indulge in a bit of communal nostalgia, but it seems unjust for pain and grief to mar our anticipation of this special time of the year, or intrude upon our planning for the festivities. And yet - and yet this brings the true message of Christmas so much more into focus for us. The first 'noel' was marked by the pain of rejection, poverty and violence. Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus were forced to flee to Egypt as refugees shortly after the birth. Every baby boy under 2 years of age was brutally murdered in the area of Bethlehem as vicious murder squads fulfilled the orders of an insecure, drunken overlord, King Herod. Why didn't God prevent that? 

The 'silent stars' and melody of the 'angelic host' soon gave way to the howls of bitter sorrow from the mothers of Judah, and the screams of their infant sons. The road ahead of the infant Christ was already marked by blood. Why?

As we wrap ourselves in the warmth and familiarity of Christmas, we should never forget that God could not prevent the pain. Not if he was going to achieve the very reason for the season. Christ Jesus came into the world to save. He came to intervene in the headlong rush of mankind into a life and an eternity devoid of hope. Like the emergency services that have rushed to the aid of those affected by these unseasonal tragedies, Jesus came to bring us rescue and life, not just warm good wishes and a few cheery carols.

So, if you are in pain this Christmas, or grieving and alone, please know that Jesus came for you, to be with you in your need, and offers you and me his life, death and resurrection as God's response to the tragedies that so often mark this time of the year.

70 Not Out!

My sincere thanks to all who sent greetings, cards and messages yesterday on my 70th birthday. I am so grateful for the blessing of your friendship and the privilege of knowing you all. But I am also thinking deeply about the amazing fact that I am still alive to see this date! I very nearly died when I was 45 during my first brush with acute hemorrhaging pancreatitis and then on other occasions too over the 22 years that followed. On more than 100 times I was admitted to hospitals in Cardiff, Guernsey, Southampton, London and Newcastle, during two decades of battling one of the most painful conditions known to humanity. By all rights I should not still be here, but there must be something for me to do!

One of the effects of a long fight with pain and frequent hospitalisations is a sense of gratitude for any relief. I am so grateful for the cutting-edge transplant surgery that transformed my life 5 years ago, and am happily living without a pancreas, spleen, gall-bladder or bile ducts. But I am free from that dreadful, gut-wrenching, tearing, red-hot agony of pancreatic pain, thank God.

In my book Through the Storms: a manual for when life hurts I deal with some of the other issues that arise in long-term pain or distress of any kind. Fear, loneliness, post-trauma disorders, all complicate the already fraught matter of physical recovery. Added to that, for those of us who know that God is our loving heavenly Father, who only has good plans for us, are the questions that the writer of the Psalm might have had in mind when he coined the phrase 'deep calls unto deep'. 'How long, O Lord?' and yes - 'why me?' 

I don't have the answers, but I do know someone who does. Hope is spelt J-e-s-u-s and he has been faithful to me throughout this long ordeal. Today I am privileged to continue sharing life with my lovely wife, Diane, and with Matthew and his wife Chula and our precious grand-daughters. Life is good, but I don't take it for granted. The very air I breathe is a loan, and I know that it will be called in one day. Till then, I am going to share the good news of hope and life in Jesus as widely as I can. For me, that's what 'many happy returns' really means!

Stronger than Ever?

 

Five years ago today I was the patient on the operating table in this photo. It was taken during a 16.5 hour transplant op at the International Transplant Centre in the Freeman Hospital Newcastle. It has absolutely transformed my life! I have been out walking in the wonderful warm sunshine on Guernsey's magnificent sea-shore this morning, and really thanking God for the Professor, his team and all involved, and for the many who prayed for my recovery from 22 years of the most appalling pain and suffering. Their prayers were answered that day, and on this anniversary I give thanks to God.

Before the surgery my life was blighted by daily agony, requiring industrial doses of opiates to give me even a modicum of pain control. Today I am largely pain-free and able to live a normal life, as I tell in my fifth book Through the Storms: a manual for when life hurts but I shall never cease to be grateful for these bonus years following surgery.

The thing about surgery is that you have to go down into a very deep valley before you can come up the other side. I very nearly died in the aftermath when I contracted pneumonia in ICU. It was hugely painful and challenging, but you don't get a testimony without a test! If you are facing a similar valley of pain or perhaps medical intevention, I hope you find the courage to press ahead in faith that although maybe the medics have got this - God has got you!

Today I thank God for his mercy and grace. He did not take me out of the situation quickly or easily, but he was with me throughout, and has delivered me in the end. Very early in our two decades long ordeal, God gave us a promise from the Bible - 1 Peter 5:10 which we have called our 'stronger than ever' text. Here it is; "After you have suffered a little while, our God, who is full of kindness through Christ, will give you his eternal glory. He personally will come and pick you up, and set you firmly in place, and make you stronger than ever" (Living Bible).

'I was in constant agony'

 My story was featured in this month's edition of Christianity magazine in the UK. It is about my most recent book, 'Through the Storms: a manual for when life hurts' and takes a look back at the 22 years long odyssey of pain and hospitalisation that lies behind it. The magazine also says a lot about the recent anti-racism rallies around the globe, and I found its approach to be refreshing and well-balanced, even though I'm sure some will disagree.

I hope, though, that in telling my story I am doing more than simply marketing a book. At least four people told me last weekend that they are reading Through the Storms and finding it both challenging and helpful. Above all, I want it to bring glory to God and show people his amazing love. Faith is not always a procession of glorious successes. It is often written in what Winston Churchill called 'blood, toil, tears and sweat'. If you feel that your own faith is failing you in this current pandemic crisis, then can I encourage you to get hold of books like mine, and magazines like Christianity, which may help you to just get through. You only get a testimony when you have been through a test, and maybe one day your own story will be a help or encouragement to someone else.

You can also hear a recording of the full interview with the editor of Christianity magazine, Sam Hailes, on Saturday 11th July on Premier Christian Radio, the Profile at 8pm or download the Profile podcast from https://www.premierchristianradio.com/Podcasts .

Lessons from Weakness

Sorry to have missed out on blogging for a while. Things have been a bit tough for me recently. In the last month or so I have spent 3 weeks in hospital with a vicious attack of acute pancreatitis on top of chronic pancreatitis. This has also involved a tangle with ascending cholangitis (nothing to do with the colon - this is an infection of the bile ducts and/or liver) and left me with pleurisy in both lungs and a partially collapsed lung. I just wanted to say all that to show that I haven't been lazing around all day taking it easy! It has been particularly difficult this time because of the problem of physical weakness just when I need to be strong for the possible major transplant op planned for this summer in the UK. But also because I want to encourage you if you also are passing through a time of weakness for any other reason. This too shall pass.

I think it's a man-thing not to want to own up to any weakness. We blokes like to see ourselves as immune to frailty or fragility of any type and it is so hard to become dependent upon the kindness of nurses and relatives to be able to meet even the basic demands of the day or night. My time in hospital has given me insight into the awful frustration that men and women feel when they become overtaken by weakness. All I can say is that I believe that this experience will not be wasted, and that it can have a really formative effect on our soul, our faith and our experience of God. When we place our weak hand in his powerful grip then despite our weakness we can learn, develop and grow spiritually.  That's why the apostle Paul said "When I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Cor. 12:10).

One of the ancient prophets of Israel, a guy called Habbakuk, once went against the grain of the myth that says if you are a reasonably good person then you should enjoy success, wealth and strength. He wrote: "Though the fig-tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Saviour. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights". (Hab.3:17-19)

When I read these words on New Year's Day, I wept.

Early on New Year’s Day I was looking through my favourite version of the Bible for inspiration after a difficult Christmas period. I had been up to A & E over the special season, including on Christmas Day itself, and in touch with my GP twice in the space of four days or so. I endured the usual diet of overwhelming pain, fever, the rigors, extreme nausea – all the signs of a classic flare-up of my old enemy chronic pancreatitis. I say “old” because it was Christmas 1995 when I was admitted to hospital in Cardiff for the first of what would become over 100 such admissions in the last two decades.  Twenty years of frustration, struggle, and the loss of my ministry due to no fault of my own. It’s starting to get to me as you might well imagine.

And then I came across this promise of hope. God, speaking to His people Israel in the Old Testament, promised them that “I will restore to you the years that the locust has eaten” (Joel 2:25). Wow, that really hit home to my discouraged heart. Years ago, when we lived and worked in Africa, we were hit by a small locust swarm one evening. With the sound of an approaching express train it descended on a large bush in our garden and stripped the lot in seconds. When it lifted, like a swarm of hornets into the air, what had been a large and fruitful shrub was left a desolate collection of bare branches.

Maybe you have faced the hordes of locusts too. Whatever length of time has gone by, you probably can’t forget the sense of grief and loss you feel at opportunities denied you, relationships gone sour, loved ones taken away in their prime. The ‘not fairness’ of life takes its toll on us all, whatever the cause of the pain.

God knows our distress and hears our cry, even in the dark of the night. The Bible says in typically pictorial language that He keeps all our tears in His bottle. He must need a tanker for mine! I don’t know if the locust swarm will leave me in 2016 though I sincerely hope it does – but if not, this promise of God keeps me going as I start a third decade. “I will restore to you [place your name here] the years that the locusts have eaten”!

I don’t know how, or when, but I do know who will achieve this, and I’m holding on to Him for dear life!

Happy New Year!

In the Shadow of the Cross

Diane is not really that much shorter than me - she was sitting down! What matters in this picture is that the shadow of the cross is over us both. At the very centre of our relationship, and the heart of our faith, is the cross - the symbol of the death of Jesus Christ and for centuries a sign of all that Christ accomplished for us at Calvary. It is also a reminder that there is a cross at the apex of our Christianity.  It is an invitation from Jesus to come and die to our selves, our own ambitions and desires, and to live a new life of trust and obedience to Him.

I think that it is easy to forget this important fact.  We tend to think that we deserve happiness in life and the fulfillment of all our dreams. Now it is great to have a dream and hold on to it, but Jesus achieved so much by laying down His life on the cross so that His vision of bringing forgiveness and life to us could be achieved. We can never equate our own suffering with that of Jesus on the cross with its barbaric cruelty and pain, but He does call us to "take up our cross and follow" Him. We are not guaranteed a pain-free walk of faith in this life and the cross reminds us that whatever we go through God has suffered more, and with every cross there comes a resurrection if we trust in Him.

Thanks to all those who are praying for us at this time. I am due to return to University College Hospital in London next week (2nd Dec 2015) for the 11th time this year.  The plan is to let them clear out my pancreatic duct of debris and stones and then to do a nerve block all around the pancreas in the hope of giving me some relief from the appalling pain of pancreatitis. We are also waiting to hear the outcome of our appeal for funding of a major transplant operation by the States of Guernsey which has the potential to bring this nightmare to an end, but is very expensive. So far the early signs are not good - but hey, as I said there is a cross at the heart of our faith and our trust is in God. Anyway - one touch from the King changes everything!

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!

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!

All Things Tough and Testing

I've got a new line for the old hymn "All Things Bright and Beautiful"! Now it begins "All things Tough and Testing".. It doesn't work musically but boy does it fit my recent experience! I won't bore you with the details save to say that I am facing 3 operations in the next few weeks and am in desperate levels of pain. Apparently I am sitting on a time-bomb with stones and a stricture in my pancreatic duct, and the £30,000 worth of electronic gadgetry inside me has failed (again) and requires me to go through the whole July surgery once more! Add to that some decidedly unpleasant personal plumbing and you have a mixture fit for the 'dunghill' to wax all King James Version.

When I can think clearly through the fog of opiates and the sharp sense that there must surely be a spear right through my upper abdomen - and doesn't it stick out at the back too? - I startle myself with a sense of well-being. Before you call the men in white coats there are reasons for this state of calm that are not just drug induced. I have found special help this week in certain obscure (but not pointless!) Bible verses. One is found in Ephesians 4:6 where it says that my God and Father is "over all and through all and in all". I had not considered that before but it has sealed my soul in a firm compost of comfort this week while I try to bear fruit in a barren environment. God is in charge - not the doctors, nor the devil and thankfully not me!

Another came at me sideways from the good old book of Psalms - ancient Israel's national songbook. Reading almost like a medical report it says: "You couldn’t stand the sight of food, so miserable you thought you’d be better off dead.Then you called out to GOD in your desperate condition; he got you out in the nick of time. He spoke the word that healed you, that pulled you back from the brink of death." (Ps 107:18-20 The Message) Wow!  Now that gave me hope.  Of course I realise that wishful thinking may be at work here, but actually choosing to trust in God's promises and his words is proving to be a powerful steadying force in this trying time.

So although I am messing about with the first line of the old hymn, perhaps the ending can still stand?  "The Lord God made them all" And if that's true then I'll be OK, even if the time-bomb does go off.

Bowing Down to Rise Up!

It's time for this old horse to bow out gracefully!  Or should I say donkey because Guernsey folk are often caricatured as being stubborn like donkeys! It is vital for every servant of God to bow the knee before Him and say 'have Your way Lord!' and that's what I am doing right now. After 43 years of full-time Christian ministry in the UK, the Channel Islands, Seychelles and Zimbabwe, I will retire this weekend. BUT - I am not finished yet! My work is entering a new phase and I welcome the opportunity to see what God is silently planning for us in love. Romans 8:28 is still in my bible and I know that there is a plan in all this and that the important thing is to remain positive, hopeful and yet submitted to God's will. Diane and I are so grateful for all the prayer support and encouragement we have received over the years and are still receiving now, and boy are we going to need it over the coming months!

I had an MRCP scan at University College Hospital London this week and it revealed an extensive stricture or closing of my pancreatic duct with what appeared to be stones piling up behind it. This accounts for the severe pain I have been in for some time and means that in 3 weeks I will be having a surgical procedure to open this up and clear the duct, similar to one that I had some years ago and put me in ICU for quite a long while! Yet I have peace about this one and trust my loving Lord to watch over me that day. Then I also have to go back to Guys and St Thomas' hospital in London too in order to find out why the spinal neuro-stimulator fitted to relieve the awful pain of pancreatitis has failed - and if it is faulty as suspected I will have to undergo having the operation of last July done again. I am also waiting for all this to be finished so that I can have a routine plumbing operation in my local hospital! Plenty to be getting on with then!

I am still praying for healing and release from this every day, and look forward to the day when I can put all this behind me and press on to new and better things. When a horse is being trained, however, to be useful to its trainer there comes a moment when it is 'broken'. The stubborn will of the creature is won over, and it desires whatever its master wants it to do. Now we are not animals and God treats us very differently, inviting our love and joyful surrender as an expression of our partnership with Him in the redemption and recreation of all living things. But even Jesus went through the experience of 'brokenness' when He submitted to His father's plan for salvation. When we follow His example and allow God to master us and use us in His plan, then much can be achieved in and through us.

That's a Relief!

At last - a few days of pain relief after months of the most appalling pancreatic agony!  Diane and I travelled last week to University College London Hospital for a procedure called a 'coeliac plexus block' which is done under heavy sedation in the endoscopy unit there. A large amount of steroids and narcotics are injected directly into a bundle of nerves right near the pancreas in an attempt to interrupt the pain - and voila - a pain free Easter pour moi!

Years ago I had a series of six such blocks and they gave me varying degrees of effect, ranging from nothing at all (twice) to six weeks of glorious freedom. I don't know how long this one will last, but it is such a pleasure to experience life like so many do without the nerve tearing, burning, intensity of pancreatic pain.

In all these 18 years of battling this condition we have found it essential to take hold of something someone reminded us of in church this morning. Jenny stood at the front of the building and said that she has come to understand, through her many years of sorrow and struggle in different ways to mine, that our sufferings are there for a reason. 'They are', she said, 'allowed by God so as to make us more Christ-like'. Now I wish that God had other ways to make more Christ-like - in fact I'll bet Jesus Himself would have preferred other methods to that when he heaved the cross to his shoulder that first Easter, but he knew I needed him so he went to an unimaginable place of pain for me (and for you).

Jenny was right.  The bible actually says so. There may be many other reasons why we battle, some our own fault and some the fault of others, but God has not finished with us yet and we need to trust him even when we cannot trace his ways.

Meanwhile I'll just be grateful for a few days off and pray it lasts a long long time!

Cut and come Again!

It is never easy to approach the operating theatre again after so many previous visits - 30 to be precise!  There is no more lonely place on this planet than lying on a gurney outside the anesthetics area waiting to be wheeled in to begin the process. It is then that I am so glad I'm a Christian!  I recall the old gospel song 'You gotta walk that lonesome valley, you gotta walk there by yourself, and no one else can go there for you, you gotta walk there by yourself!' Very cheerful eh? Ah well, Friday is the day for the knife for me and I am really not looking forward to it, but it's got to be done.

Surgery is such a savage mercy.  In order to heal and help the surgeon must cut and cause pain.  To save life he or she must shed life's blood. To make well they must first make the patient feel worse! Who would want a job like that?

Yet in some ways this healing work mirrors the same process in the spiritual life too. God must occasionally act as a surgeon in our lives and not simply as 'the Great Physician'. Things that we count precious may have to go.  Relationships that are not helpful may need to be cut. Security that we have come to rely upon may need some re-arranging in order that we can really understand that we can't do this thing called 'life' without Him. Now that's not an easy process to bear, nor a bloodless one as Jesus found out on the cross. But it is an important one if we are to be made whole.

Thankfully, for me, this surgery is not major and is likely to be straightforward, but I will keep my eyes on the benefits ahead and try not to worry too deeply about the journey!! See you soon - I hope!

The High Price of Pain

The British Prime Minister, David Cameron, has led tributes from countless people who were shocked and saddened this week by the tragic death of PC David Rathband.  This brave policeman was brutally attacked by a fugitive from justice who had declared war on the police, Raoul Moat. Pc Rathband was shot twice by Moat, in the face and the shoulder, as he sat in his patrol car on the outskirts of Newcastle in July 2010. He spent 17 days in hospital and despite several operations to restore his eyesight he was still classed as being "black blind". Sue Sim, Chief Constable of Northumbria Police, said PC Rathband's life had "changed forever" when he was shot by Moat. "David showed outstanding bravery in what was a terrifying situation," she added. "He was a dedicated officer who acted in the best traditions of the police service."

What strikes me about the case, apart from the fact that David was the victim of a cruel and heartless attacker, was the discovery that he was also suffering immense physical pain since the attack.  I believe that it was this, combined with his devastating loss of sight, that brought him to an end of his resources.  As someone who suffered more than 15 years of chronic debilitating pain I feel great sympathy for this dear man who gave himself in the service of his community.

I hope that the manner of David's death, and the notoriety of his attacker (now also dead incidentally) will not detract from the memory of his self-less bravery and sense of public service.  I also hope that it will not discourage others who are coming to terms with sudden blindness or awful pain and who wonder if they can go on.  Above all, I hope that the publicity surrounding David's case will raise the profile of the problem of chronic pain and bring it back to the gaze of those who control health budgets and public purses.  Certainly in my case, the tens of thousands of pounds spent by my Health Authority to give me pain relief by means of a spinal neuro-stimulator has been a real life-saver - literally.