A Bad Case of Truth Decay

 

‘The first casualty of any war is truth’. This statement, maybe by an ancient Greek dramatist called Aeschylus around 550BC, or else a US Senator from just after World War 1, is proving to be so accurate in describing the current war in Ukraine. For weeks US and British intelligence agencies were warning of impending invasion whilst all the time being mocked by Russian leaders claiming this was a figment of their febrile imaginations! ‘Russia has no plans at all to invade Ukraine’ was reported around the world.

Once the invasion began, pictures of Russian aggression were being shown on their TV station but claiming that NATO and Ukrainian ‘Nazis’ were bombing their own cities. The Russian forces were on a ‘peacekeeping mission’ to protect Ukrainian civilians. If this were not so sad it would be ludicrous, but of course, claim and counter claim will be used by both sides in this conflict to try and gain popular support, and even being used as weapons.

But truth decay has also affected our society incrementally. It is not only the bomb and the bullet that can impact human lives. When Royal celebrities are asked to reveal ‘your truth’ by TV interviewers, as if truth were a commodity to be owned and shaped by individuals to suit their lifestyle, behaviour, preferences or even sense of gender, then truth is indeed ‘fallen in the street’. In fact, ‘justice is beaten back, righteousness is banished to the side-lines, truth staggers down the street, honesty is nowhere to be found, good is missing in action’ (Isaiah 59:14 The Message).

It was a great Russian, Alexandr Solzhenitsyn who said, ‘One word of truth outweighs the world’ and that philosophy undergirded his resistance to the Soviet system and his belief that ultimately, the truth will out. And he was right. Joseph Goebel’s elaborate propaganda organisation, for instance, died along with the Nazi regime in the burning rubble of 1945 Berlin. Truth has power. It can, eventually, overthrow systems and states built on deception and lies.

Jesus distinguished himself from these corrupt leaders when he declared, ‘I am the truth’ (John 14:6) and that his Spirit was and is ‘the Spirit of Truth’ (John 16:13). He also said that his followers ‘will know the truth, and the truth will set you free’ (John 8:31). Only the truth will liberate, morally and spiritually and culturally. 

For now, though, the liars have the floor. Satan, the father of all lies may be delighted. But his rejoicing will be short-lived. For the Truth is returning, and possibly very soon! When he comes, every knee will bow, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord! Till then, let’s pray that the Spirit of truth will open blind eyes and hearts all over the globe so that the tinsel deception of truth decay will be replaced with radical love and the return of peace, especially to the dear folk of Ukraine. And may God intervene to expose lies and deliver the innocent by miracles of protection too!

 

Storm Damage

Watching a man from London being interviewed on the TV news this lunchtime standing in front of his broken house and crushed car, I was made aware how long it can take to recover from storm damage. Of course, the effects of storms Dudley and Eunice in the UK recently will be cleared away, and will be done so much more quickly than parts of the world affected by flooding and landslides where there are no sophisticated means of repair. Never-the-less, the emotional and psychological pain of storm damage may take a lot longer than the physical effects, to make good.

Part of the pain is the shock of the unwanted, unsolicited violation of your property and potential safety. A sudden, unexpected intrusion into a world that seemed so normal and predictable, blown your way by some faceless blast, even if it is given a fancy name by the Met Office. However sophisticated our Western lifestyle might have become, it only takes a big storm to make us aware of our fragility and the potential for everything to change overnight, literally.

Life's storms are very real. In a moment, what was chugging along nicely can be turned on its head. Where once were security and familiar circumstances there can come uncertainty and chaos, bringing with them fear and apprehension on a grand scale. For me it was the sudden onslaught of devastating chronic ill health. Along with it came a flood of problems like - how will we pay our rent? Who will provide food for our family? Will I even survive?

Thank God that we don't have to face life's storms alone. God says 'When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.' (Isaiah 43:2). The storms of life can be endured and overcome when we know the active, manifest presence of Almighty God with us. That's why I published my book 'Through the Storms; a manual for when life hurts'. If you are going through devastating storms right now, or you know someone who is, get a copy of this book for yourself or to give to them. Click here to order one in paperback or Kindle format. Or you can email me to obtain a signed copy at throughthestorms750@gmail.com.

It's likely that many more would have died, and much greater damage would have been done, if the Met Office in the UK had not warned in advance about these storms, and the authorities put in place strategies to cope. Don't wait till the waters rise or the floods come. Remember the motto of the Scouts movement; 'Be Prepared!'

 

Baby Steps to Freedom

 

As Covid restrictions ease and, at least legally, end completely in Guernsey after February 17th, and in the UK a couple of weeks later, there will be some of us feeling a bit nervous. The two-year long battle against this unseen but potentially deadly foe has taken its toll on us all, whether we have had Covid or not. Some have lost loved ones whilst many have been shielding, afraid of going out. We are grateful for one of the best vaccination records in the world and for all the care and oversight of our medical and Public Health teams, but it feels strange to be coming out of this pandemic with hundreds of cases in our islands and lots of new ones being discovered each day.

Taking baby steps out of the pandemic is a challenge to our faith, our hope, and our love. Our faith because we must choose not to let fear dominate us in the aftermath of all we have been through. Our trust in God means that we need to heed the many ‘fear nots’ in the Bible (some say that there are 366 – one for every day of the year and one for a leap year) and choose to be grateful for the amazing grace that has seen us through thus far and will take us forwards. Faith in our dedicated public health and medical teams is also well founded given their track record. And hope, because ultimately our hope is in God, his faithfulness, and his promises. The opposite of hope is despair and no good ever came out of that, so we don’t want to go there. Keeping a positive and hopeful attitude can see us through the most appalling difficulties if we put our trust in God, so as we climb up the other side of this viral valley it is needed more than ever.

Love means that we recognise that not everybody is travelling out of this pandemic at the same speed. Some feel very unsure, vulnerable, and uncertain, while others are bruised by grief, financial hardship, and loss. We can help one another by respect and patience and by simple words of encouragement that can lift a heavy load. Faith, hope and love may be the three main virtues of the Christian faith, but they make good sense for people of all faiths or of none as we move into the uncharted waters of recovery from a devastating global pandemic.

Blue Monday or Jubilee Year?

 

70 years ago today a wonderful lady was born! Diane Jean Guille arrived as a tiny baby in our home island of Guernsey. So, this January begins a Jubilee Year for us as I will also turn 70, and we will celebrate our Golden Wedding anniversary in September, God willing. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the second became our monarch in the same year we were both born so we have truly lived through the 'Elizabethan era' and are grateful to God for his blessings and grace to us throughout. We both know that I should have died at 45, but was brought back from the brink so that we could continue to be together, through both pain and pleasure. To God be the glory!

When we set out on this journey called life none of us can know the time allotted to us or the direction our paths will take. For us it involved submitting to what we felt was the call of God, though not without struggle. When that call meant leaving our home island and heading first to the UK, then to Seychelles and Zimbabwe, it seemed really scary and intimidating. We both questioned whether we had got it right many times, but looking back at lessons learned and lives changed, we can see that it was always meant to be.

The most difficult challenge, mind you, was not going forth in service, but staying behind in pain. Our hearts were seared most deeply by the long season (13 years) of Diane's own battle with anxiety and debilitating depression, and my own 22 years of facing some of the worst pain known to humankind. Compared to that, setting out to serve God and share his love with others, was both a privilege and a learning curve. We bear scars, however, that are trophies of overcoming, not marks of despair. Diane's joy and cheerfulness in every experience of life, may have been hidden during her years of anguish, but have burst forth in blessing right up to the present day. She is the light of my life.

So, no 'blue Monday' for us here. Instead it's Happy Birthday Diane and welcome to our Year of Jubilee!

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!