Fiction -Week 2 - A Fiasco in a Restaurant.

This is a continuation from Week 1.

All characters are fictional and bear no resemblance to any person, living or dead.

I wrote the original story around 34 years ago, with this version modified and updated.

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                                                                 3

Through a gap in the trees alongside the road, Windsor Castle loomed in the distance, its west side illuminated by the pink glow from the rays of the setting sun. At this point, Roger spoke just after listening to the 9 o'clock news on Steve's car radio:

Russia invading Israel? Exactly what Ezekiel prophesied thousands of years ago!

We are in Windsor! Steve cut in. Let's hope we haven't lost our table due to our lateness. The last thing Steve wanted was another eruption from Phil, assuming that this Ezekiel was a Bible character.

Once in the town centre, the red Ferrari swung around a corner into a car park. After a short walk, three slender young students and one more muscular motor mechanic entered the diner and were greeted by a smartly dressed Asian waiter.

Steve's Ferrari.

We have a table booked for four under the name of Mr Wright, set for nine o'clock. Steve announced apologetically. We are sorry for arriving late.

That's alright, sir. Come this way, please.

We were led to the only vacant table in the packed restaurant. The waiter removed the "Reserved" sign and handed each a menu. We then settled down. The diner offered a variety of menus from different nationalities, including Indian curry. 

A vindaloo curry for me. Phil said, I like a touch of the hot stuff any time. He concluded with a smirk, watching for any response to the double meaning of his statement. We all grinned, including Roger.

I'm having a chicken Korma, I replied. I prefer the mild variety of curry.

All four of us decided to stick with curry. Although I prefer my taste to be mild, the other three ordered the extra spicy Vindaloo.

The waiter has arrived at our table. Ready to order, sirs?

Three Vindaloo curries and one chicken Korma, please. Steve spoke for the whole group.

After our orders were taken, a pretty blonde waitress arrived to offer drinks. Roger ordered a shandy, and Steve ordered an orange squash as he was driving. Phil and I went for a pint of cider.

I regarded Roger, an out-of-place motor mechanic, sitting directly opposite me and next to Phil, who, in turn, sat opposite Steve, who sat to my left. Roger had his elbows on the table with his cheeks resting in his hands. His eyes were closed, and I had the impression that he was engaged in silent prayer.

Presently, the waiter arrived with a couple of table stoves. On top of these, he laid three portions of Vindaloo curry and one Korma curry. He then disappeared and returned with four dishes of rice. We proceeded to serve our own curries from the two stoves.

The bold logo on Roger's T-shirt made my curiosity strong enough to ask about his beliefs.

Roger, we live in a scientifically oriented world where our knowledge of both physics and biology has rocketed to heights never dreamed of in history. We have technology unmatched in any past century, and our culture is the most sophisticated.

Go on. Roger prompted.

How can you have faith in a book written by ancient and ignorant men, who were bound in superstition and supposed divine miracles? The sun standing still and a talking donkey. Come on! Why, the Bible writers were just silly fishermen. They had none of our learning.

Roger looked somewhat hurt by my dig, and I felt that I had pushed a little too far.

The mechanic immediately asked, What is our calendar based on?

Well, what do you mean? I asked, hoping to delay answering.

We are in the 21st Century. Roger went on. From which apparently insignificant event do we base our calendar on?

From the birth of Christ. I was forced to respond.

Exactly! Roger confirmed. Now, we celebrate Easter, Whitsun, and Christmas each year, and we have been celebrating for the last two millennia. What do these holidays represent?

The life and death of Christ. I reluctantly admitted.

So, throughout your lifetime, you have been celebrating a load of myths written by foolish and ignorant men who lived two thousand years ago! Roger looked hard at me as he drove home his point. We have inherited our Western culture from the ancient Greeks and Romans. Among the Greeks in particular were great men such as Homer, Erastosthenes, Plato, and Aristotle. Do you believe these men existed?

Of course I do! I answered. Those men were gifted with great intelligence and wisdom.

Then why don't you have a holiday for each of them? After all, it's because of their great learning that your own knowledge is founded. 

As a student in genetics, I couldn't answer. This mechanic had me stumped! And going by Steve's looks, he too was lost for words. On the other hand, Phil looked irritated, like black clouds gathering over the ocean and stirred by the strengthening wind. I was dreading what could occur in this crowded restaurant.

Roger, who sat next to Phil, was totally unaware of the student's irate mood as he continued his dialogue with me.

So, Jesus Christ must have been very different from all other great men. In fact, one of his titles is "The Word", which means he was God's spokesman. Roger continued. In fact, the Gospel of John opens with a dramatic statement. It reads, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." 

Jesus himself said, "My Father and I are one".

And later, after his Resurrection, Thomas fell at his feet and cried out, "My Lord and my God."

Paul the Apostle also wrote of him: 

"Who (that is Jesus), being in the very nature of God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death, even death on a cross."

And at another place, the apostle wrote:

"(Jesus) is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and things on earth...all things were created by him and for him...for in Christ all things hold together."

And again,

"For in Christ all the fullness of his deity lives in bodily form..."

Barely had Roger finished his sentence when Phil exploded.

SHUT UP, DAMN YOU, SHUT UP FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

He made a swipe, and the curry he had hardly touched went flying off the table. The carpeted floor softened the impact of the plate, saving it from shattering. He then rose, his face flushed, and began to make for the exit.

Roger arose and caught Phil before he made for the door.

Please Phil, no offence. It's my fault. Please come and join us, and enjoy the food. You can have my portion. I hadn't touched it. I'll order another. I'll pay for the lost meal. Phil, please come back and join us.

But Phil's anger wasn't calmed. Shaking off the mechanic, he shouted aloud, oblivious to all the other customers in the packed diner. Most of them had their heads down in embarrassment. However, a table on the other side of the restaurant had four casually dressed young men who looked on with glee. Entertainment like this was a very rare occurrence, especially between apparent toffs. At a nearby table, a young girl in a family of four began to cry, and her mother reached out her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

YOU IGNORANT FOOLS, ALL OF YOU! You let some stupid myths cloud your thinking. Damn that fabled Christ! Don't worry about me. I'll catch the bus home.

Realising that he still had his eating fork in his hand, he threw it, and, meaning to aim for the table, it clipped my cheek, leaving a sting. 

I shot up from my seat, clenched my fists and would have felled him, had not Steve risen to restrain me by pulling at my shoulders from behind. Instead, I thumped the table, making the crockery jump as I shouted,

YOU MIND YOUR WAYS, YOU ARROGANT YOUNG PUP. Who the hell do you think you are?

I was gasping for breath just as the manager and the waiter appeared to see what the commotion was about.

I talk about what I damed well want to talk about, and I can say what I bloody well please! I exclaimed.

Please, George, Steve trembled as he pleaded. The cops will come, and we could end up in custody.

The thought of a police cell brought me slowly to my senses as Phil stormed out of the restaurant.

What's going on here? asked the manager as Steve, Roger and I resumed our seats.

Sir, there was a disagreement. Roger answered as he tried to play down the severity of the dispute.

Looks like you're about to have a fight, and frightening my other customers. He turned to glimpse the little girl whose face was buried in her mother's chest. I want you three to leave the premises. I'm not going to ask for payment, but if you don't leave straight away, I'll call the police.

With that, Roger interceded. Sir, I hold myself responsible for the commotion. The other fellow who caused the feud has already walked out. I'll promise to pay for the mess on the carpet as well as the lost meal if only you let us stay and finish our dinners.

The waiter sided with Roger. I have seen the commotion, and I can verify that the troublemaker has already walked out. The manager regarded the situation for a moment, then said to the group, Okay, you can stay, and don't worry about paying for the mess. But...He looked sternly at us all. A squeak from either of you, and I'll call the police to escort you out. Is that understood? 

Yes sir. We answered like naughty schoolchildren at the headmaster's office. We ate our meal in silence. Despite Roger's intercession with the manager, we might as well have walked out. Our evening was ruined. Roger knew it, so did Steve, and I certainly knew it. Neither Steve nor I was bothered with religion, but thinking and talking about the subject was something I didn't mind too much, provided it didn't become an obsession. But I couldn't understand Phil's antagonism. I wondered what kind of childhood he had that had made him think and feel this way. Could it have been an ultra-strict church-going uncle who held a Bible in one hand, and a leather belt in the other?

The face of Windsor Castle loomed in the sunset.

During the meal, Steve was regarding Roger in a new light. How he answered my objections and how well he interceded to save our evening were notable examples of his character. Steve saw how this mechanic took the situation with astonishing calmness. There was no anger, no rancour, no ill feelings, only the sorrow he felt for Phil. I now remember Steve once telling me that he had known the mechanic for most of the three years he attended university at Royal Holloway. He was a frequent visitor to the Padula household, whose parents had always made the student feel welcome and treated him well. I was also aware that Steve was not convinced that religion is all silly superstition, although he would laugh it down to save face with people like Phil and perhaps also me.

Yet, he knew from his university course on Archaeology that religion has always been the backbone of mankind to believe in and find some hope and comfort in a world where natural forces, sometimes unleashed, are mysterious yet devastating catastrophes on humanity, as his studies could well attest.

But the faith he has seen in Roger was not based on fear of divine retribution. Rather, it was a response to an apparent favour the gods have already done for mankind, and both Steve and I could see that Roger was enjoying the full benefits of such grace.

Tears began to roll down Steve's cheeks as we finished our meal.

Roger, this Jesus is so real to you. Roger, can I get to know him, too?

Why, of course you can, Steve! Roger exclaimed as his face suddenly brightened.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in him should not perish but have everlasting life.

The mechanic continued, Jesus also said, "He who comes to me I will in no wise cast out. The Bible also says, "He who calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved."

However, Roger concluded, the true Gospel is encrypted in one of Paul's letters, his first letter to the Corinthian church. In it, he wrote, "This is the Gospel that was delivered to you. That Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, was buried, and rose from the dead on the third day, according to the Scriptures."

You see, when Jesus Christ was crucified, he died to take away all your sins, past, present and future. His shed blood can wash you clean forever, and his righteousness will be imputed into you, making you a son of God, and as much a delight to the Father as Jesus himself. What you need to do is to trust in the efficacy of the Atonement Christ has made for you.

Steve was visibly moved. Without any encouragement from Roger, he bowed his head, and I heard him say, Lord, I believe that you died for me on the cross, you were buried, and on the third day, you rose from the dead. Lord, I'm asking you to receive me and wash away all my sins in your shed blood. Lord, I thank you dearly for saving me, and I ask you for your redemption. Amen.

Steve looked up at Roger to find him weeping. I watched the two stand up and clasp each other in a tight embrace, which caused a few other customers to look on in curiosity, while I felt my own face flush in embarrassment and jealousy of such a blatant show of emotion.

Steve, Roger said as he gently pulled away from his student friend. He then whispered, God wants you to be like Jesus, and through his Holy Spirit, who has sealed you and now lives in you, he wants you to become more and more like him.

After about five minutes, the two resumed their seats as I summoned the waiter for the bill. The waiter soon arrived and took Roger's card and swiped it through the terminal, completing the transaction in barely a second.

George, why not accept my Jesus too, and complete the circle? Steve asked.

No, forget it. I replied. To me, Christ is still a myth. You are just upset over Phil's tirade.

No. Steve disagreed. Already, I sense a deep peace and joy within me. It has nothing to do with Phil. It must be supernatural, as far as I know, human emotions don't change so rapidly as mine have.

A peal of thunder rolled outside.

Strange. I responded. The sky was clear, and we enjoyed a lovely sunset while we drove up here only a short while ago. The British weather can be so unpredictable.

The thunder lingered. Instead of phasing out, as with the case of normal thunder, this grew progressively louder until the dishes on the table began to vibrate. People began to stare wide-eyed at each other as well as around themselves as they became alarmed at the very unusual occurrence.

Suddenly, both Steve and Roger stared wide-eyed at the ceiling.

ROGER! Can you see - up there, up there - through the ceiling - there - something in the sky, and I see stars appear to be rotating, orbiting around a central point directly above our heads...I...I...CRIKEY!

All I could see was the ceiling. Nothing abnormal whatsoever. except the earsplitting noise of the thunder. Then it happened. VOOM! Roger and Steve vanished - their clothing left draping on their chairs while the thunder suddenly diminished.

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To be continued.

Fiction - Week 1. A Fiasco in a Restaurant.

Introductory Note:-

After more than a decade of writing factual blogs based on my Christian faith, travel, and my testimony, I thought about turning to fiction and allowing my imagination to roam, yet remaining within the boundaries of Biblical truth.

Around 35 years ago, not long after I bought an Amstrad Word Processor that took over the Sinclair Spectrum home computer, I began to practice typewriting for future prosperity. My only qualification I had was a GCE in English Grammar, which I achieved as a mature student at an evening class I attended voluntarily.

As a Christian believer, I have Bible study books touching on subjects such as salvation and eschatology, the study of the end of current human history. From learning what the Bible has to say about the future, in the early nineties, I wrote a fictional story. It was original, with characters and situations arising from my own knowledge, laced with imagination.

This story is the one I wrote around 34 years ago, modified to fit today's current circumstances. For example, in the early 1990s, the UK was a member of the European Economic Community, the forerunner of the European Union. At present, Brexit has left Britain rather isolated from its nearest trading community.

The characters are fictional and bear no resemblance to any person living or dead. However, the locations on which the story is set are real and located on a map.

To avoid too much on a single screen, the story is segregated into weekly episodes.

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                                                                                 1

After a shower, Phil Banks stood topless in front of his life-size mirror in his rented apartment, which he shared with two other students. Not that he was particularly fond of his physique, for he was rather thin for his six-foot height, which gave him an emaciated appearance. Rather, he was proud of his tattoo on his right arm just beneath his shoulder. The tattooed image was that of a growling bulldog surrounded by the colours of the Union Jack. Under the image were the words, Land of Hope and Glory.

Phil then went to his wardrobe and selected a clean white shirt, checking to see whether it was properly ironed. Satisfied, he put it on, then checked his appearance in the mirror again. He gloried in his finesse, as his white shirt contrasted with his navy blue trousers. He stood for a long time staring at himself. Such idiosyncrasy he only indulged if he was alone, as the other two students had already gone home for the summer break.

Checking the time, he saw that there was another half hour before Steve Wright would call for him, and another student, George Bolton, to go out for a meal at a restaurant in Windsor to celebrate the end of another academic year at Royal Holloway College, part of London University, where all three would return for their final year in the Autumn.

Royal Holloway College, Egham, Surrey.

He looked out over the copse of trees separating each apartment block, then settled in his armchair, allowing his thoughts to dwell on current and economic affairs, a favourite subject for a student in Politics.

Somewhat over forty minutes later, and wondering what was happening to Steve, he reached for his tie hanging on the tie rack and selected a navy blue from a variety of colours. He hadn't yet fastened the knot in place when the doorbell rang.

Steve Wright stood outside, smartly dressed in a white shirt and burgundy tie. Phil let him in as he finished with his own attire.

What's the matter? Steve asked. You look thoughtful.

Phil answered, Oh, I'm sad that our country was forced back into the EU after the disaster of Brexit!

Federal Europe, isn't it? Now that all the European countries have amalgamated into a single empire. Steve concluded.

Yes, Phil answered. New Headquarters in Rome after moving there from Brussels. My! It is as though the old Roman Empire has revived!

The Empire's throne is vacant, though. Steve responded. No head of state seems to have the right qualifications or character to reign, although there are some possible candidates.

There is one hopeful, Phil replied as he suddenly brightened and looked optimistic. That handsome Italian fellow, who was born and bred in Rome.

Steve gasped. You don't mean Gaius Caligula?

Yes, I do mean him! Phil answered. I can't help thinking that he will solve much of the present economic crisis, and on top of that, he promised to hand back our national sovereignty.

You don't say!

Well, I have full confidence in him. Judging by his manifesto, my word, he has to be some sort of god. Anyway, Steve, I'm ready to go when you are.

Okay, let's go.

The two students made their way towards a bright red, four-seater Ferrari, parked just outside the entrance to Phil's apartment block.

Damn good car you have there! Phil gasped.

A gift from Dad for doing so well in my studies and flying through my last couple of exams. Steve explained. He can afford such things, the position he is in.

Phil answered, Yes, it must be great to be the son of a company's top-notch, especially the size of the corporation your old man is involved in.

As the car pulled out, Steve spoke. We have a fourth person coming with us. His name is Roger Padula. He is half English, half Italian. Eccentric, I reckon, but his heart is in the right place.

How do you know him? Phil asked.

He repaired my old car free of charge, not long before I acquired this one. Steve answered. So I invited him to join us tonight. He's a bit of a religious nut. He takes the Bible seriously and lays great emphasis on Jesus.

Phil was visibly angry. If you think that I'm going to be swamped by such garbage coming from someone fit for an asylum, then you can turn back and drop me back home!

Calm yourself. Steve pleaded. Roger is a very generous and sensitive mate. He is slightly older than us, a skilled motor mechanic, whose father is the manager of a car showroom.

Working class, eh? You know that I cannot associate with such plebs! It's beneath my dignity.

Please, Phil, be reasonable. Steve again pleaded. Roger has been a good mate of mine for some time. He has been more helpful than many of my college friends. Besides...Steve turned and winked at Phil. With people like Roger making up the working-class stratum, you should be proud of your own status! Without the working classes, WE would be at the bottom of the social strata! Steve exclaimed, hoping that he had buttered up his friend with enough nonsense to calm his temper.

Phil's truculent mood did change to one of mirth. We can forgive the poor guy for his crackpot beliefs! Phil said, smiling. Steve drove the short distance to George's apartment.

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It was quiet in my own apartment as I straightened out the knot of my own tie, a burgundy stripe contrasting with the whiteness of my shirt. As I finished, the doorbell jingled. 

Steve and Phil, I do believe. I muttered under my breath. As I opened the door, Steve stood there and cried out, SNAP! Noticing my puzzled look, Steve followed with, Identical attire, George.

Good Lord, I gasped. You have gone up in the world!

Oh, you mean the car. Steve responded as we approached the exit of the building and headed towards the shimmering vehicle. Dad's gift for my brain power, Steve replied as he winked.

As the car cruised quietly with Steve at the wheel, we felt and looked like three cock-of-the-walks, realising that the world was our oyster. Not that our careers were certain in Federal Europe, with spiralling unemployment, but with the Third World Countries rapidly developing, we were set to be great assets abroad. It was Steve who brought us back to the present with his statement, Only Roger Padula to pick up.

Roger? Didn't you mention him some months ago? I asked.

Yep. A mate of mine who fixed my other car a short time ago. Steve answered. He is a skilled motor mechanic.

A Worker among us? I cried, shocked. I wasn't prepared...

 

Easy now! Phil cut in. What Steve says about him, he seems a generous fellow. But he is superstitious and believes in a lot of fairy tales. He is someone we can laugh at.

 

You don't say, I responded.

 

Yeah, Christ and the Bible. Things like that, Phil said.

 

You are joking! I cried. No one believes in that stuff anymore.

 

Phil went on. It's true, though - damn - next thing he'll tell us is that Cinderella and the magic pumpkin were also history.

 

Poor Roger, I contributed. After all, if he's only a manual worker, like you say he is, we'll let him live in his cloud-cuckoo land.

 

That is enough now! Steve felt the need to defend Roger. We have the right to our own beliefs.

 

Our beliefs are in the real world, with problems only science can solve, Phil answered, raising his voice. Take a look at the current problems we had a few years ago. It was science which solved the growing rate of Third World starvation, giving people in those regions a chance to develop. We are teaching them scientific technology, not religious claptrap. Then these viral infections - Covid, Hantavirus, even AIDS - were all arrested with a vaccine. You should know that, George, as it's your line of study. Not to mention communications, transportation, and... Phil broke off, allowing his rising temper to cool. 

I felt resigned. In this day and age, I find it amazing that there are some mentally inane people in this country.

ENOUGH OF THAT! Admonished Steve, as his car slowed down to pull up outside a detached suburban house.

The front door immediately opened, and Roger ran out towards the waiting car, his face looking radiant.

He must have been waiting at the window when we pulled up. I commented.

Roger was quite different in his appearance from the rest of us. While our hair was short and neatly groomed, Roger's hair was dark and long, protecting the nape of his neck and touching his shoulders. Also, his brightly-coloured T-shirt and denim shorts were a stark contrast with the collar-and-tie attire befitting a committee of executives. On the yellow shirt was a blue logo in large letters, JESUS SAVES. Underneath, in smaller lettering, the logo read, you, that is, not his money!

Roger suddenly looked embarrassed. I...I didn't expect any of you to be all dressed up. If you just wait a jiffy, I'll nip back in to dress in more appropriate clothing. 

No, don't bother. Steve said as he glanced at his watch. We have a table booked at nine, and we still have to get there.

Roger climbed into the back seat, next to me, and as he turned to greet us all, I noticed his blue eyes, indicating his pedigree. He had an Italian father and an English mother.

After the car pulled out, Steve twisted a dial, and soft, easy-listening music filled the air with a soothing melody. Presently, the music gave way to a rich female voice, which announced,

This is Radio Two from the BBC. It is now nine o'clock, and here is the news from Duncan Stewart.

A male voice filled the airwaves.

Good evening. The grave concern that the Russian Premier has over the poverty of his country due to crop failure over the past three years is a serious worry for Rome, delegates stated earlier today. Some experts believe that the Premier has his eyes on Israel, and unofficial and conflicting reports are coming in about a mobilisation of Russian troops along with military forces from Eastern European and Former Slovak countries.

Rome has sent diplomats to Moscow to investigate, although with their superior military arsenal rebuilt after their defeat in Ukraine, the best Rome can hope for is a settlement through peace talks...

Steve turned off the radio and sighed. Let us not get bogged down tonight by current affairs. Tonight is a night to celebrate.

I'm amazed by Israel, Phil spoke up. In the last few years, Israel has become a flourishing breadbasket, not only for its huge immigration of Jews, but also now for its neighbouring Arab countries with whom it made peace in exchange for its exports. It is now true to say that Israel at present upholds the economy of its neighbouring Arab countries.

From between the trees, Windsor Castle loomed into view.

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To be continued.

15. I should have Picked up a Knife.

The Need to Rightly Divide the Political Truth.

My head is in a whizz at the moment. Right-wing media are congratulating Reform's rise to power in the local elections, while its leader, Nigel Farage, gloats over our Labour Prime Minister's decline in national trust and popularity.

Our present PM, Keir Starmer, after winning power in 2024, made commitments to cut the State Pension and top up benefits for in-work and low-paid workers, along with cuts to disability benefits. All that was to fill in the "massive budget hole" left by the preceding Tory Government. Immediately, his national support and popularity plummeted, and he never recovered. So serious was his fall that his own party had to persuade him to U-turn on these matters.  

And so he did. Then, at present, came the by-elections, and the electorate gladly chose Farage's Reform Party members to chair local council administration across England. What would be his main manifesto, should he win the next general election? To deport all those illegal immigrants who have taken over our hotels. This included restarting the Rwanda scheme and making Britain great again. 

However, what our media has kept very quiet about is that when Farage attended Dulwich College as a teenage student, he was a racist bully who held disdain for any student who was non-Caucasian, that is, black or brown-skinned. Dulwich College was not a comprehensive school. It was a posh public school, attended by boys whose parents could afford the extortionate fees. It was very much like Eton, Harrow, or Winchester.

Furthermore, what our media is not saying is that the ambitions of Reform, should it ever gain national power, are to privatise the National Health Service from the taxpayer-funded free-at-the-point-of-use to the American-style billing system, where private insurance companies are set to make massive profits from the ill and infirm. Like Starmer originally, he too wants to tighten pensions and benefits. At the same time, follow Liz Truss' agenda of lowering taxes for the rich and removing workers' rights. This also includes doing away with holiday pay and other workers' benefits, hard-earned over the decades, so employers and businesses could maximise their profits without the need to declare them for appropriate taxation.

Nigel Farage.

Two different political parties, both with similar policies. One was criticised by the media, the other was kept hidden from the electorate. Yet, both declared themselves to be friends of the working employee, the one who gets his hands dirty in his struggle to house and feed his family.

Failure to rightly divide the political truth. Instead, only one side is presented, the side that appeals to the electorate. Their manifesto to deport illegal immigrants and return Britain as a home for the white indigenous is well presented. But within their agenda is to pander to the rich and the wealthy, to the billionaires who own big corporations, at the expense of the common working family, the unemployed, and the disabled. Therefore, every voter should rightly divide Reform's political agenda before voting them into power.

Dulwich College, London.

Dividing Biblical Truth.

So I ask, where is the similarity between rightly dividing the political truth and rightly dividing the Word of Truth as instructed by the Apostle Paul in 2 Timothy 2:15?

In my testimony, I have already described what this dividing, or a lack of it, has affected my life after conversion. At the time of conversion, I was told that I was a sinner and had fallen short of the glory of God. As a result, I was to face judgment and be eternally condemned. But the Son of God, Jesus Christ, came to die for my sins, was buried, and on the third day, he rose from the dead, and by believing this, I received eternal life. That is the Gospel. A glorious Gospel! Thus, if the Atonement made by Christ on the cross took away all my sins and imputed his righteousness into me, then it follows that I could never be lost or condemned again. In short, once saved, always saved (OSAS). This is wonderful news.

.

However, it wasn't long before I was challenged by Arminians. These Christians are followers of Jacob Arminius, a 16th-century Dutch theologian who disputed the doctrine of free grace and insisted that salvation must be kept by works of faithfulness, or the believer ends up lost again.

This false doctrine of forfeitable salvation robbed me of assurance, and with it, the peace of God. And so I lived in this spiritual state for nearly five decades! Only yesterday, on Facebook, there was a post advocating once saved, always saved. In the comments forum beneath the poster were many responses from unhappy deniers who insisted that salvation is forfeitable. As a result, they did not rightly divide the Word of Truth. Three main Bible verses were quoted to support their assertion. They were Hebrews 6:4-6, Matthew 24:13, and James 2:20. Those verses deeply troubled me in the past, before I learned to rightly divide the Word of Truth. That is cutting straight, like a knife cutting through a cake. This was when I should have picked up the knife.

The death of Christ took away all my sins.

Failure to rightly divide the Word of Truth leads to contradictions and confusion. It also robs the believer of peace and assurance. Therefore, as this comes under my testimony, I will show what these verses are and what I had to go through.

Hebrews 6:4-6. For it is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost. And have tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they shall fall away, to renew them unto repentance; seeing that they crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame.

This passage of Scripture is the most quoted. It was thrown to my face, even angrily, when I said that I believed in OSAS. Yet, there are three possible interpretations:

1. That it says what the Arminian says. If a believer decides not to believe any more, then he loses his salvation, his heart becomes hardened, and it will be impossible to bring him back to his faith. I saw that this presents a problem. It contradicts John 10:28, which says that he (Jesus) gives eternal life to his sheep, and they will never perish. If the believer cannot perish, a fact further endorsed by Paul in Romans 8:38-39, it can only mean that he is kept by God, and not by the believer's own faithfulness.

2. The second interpretation is the one I held for a long time. The title of the letter is "To the Hebrews"; that is, the whole book was written to Jewish believers rather than the present Gentile Body of Christ. Many were true believers and forever saved. But among the assembly were interested Jewish enquirers. Just by being among true believers, they too were made partakers of the Holy Spirit and gained knowledge and experience. But instead of trusting the Gospel, they decided to return to the Temple and continued to seek their own righteousness by offering sacrifices. Their rejection of Jesus as their Messiah became absolute.

3. There is a third interpretation I have recently learned. All here referred are true believers. However, some of them decided to return to the Temple and offer sacrifices. Yet, they remained saved, although they will lose their rewards at the Judgment Seat of Christ. As believers, they remain kept by God. Losing their salvation was an impossibility, as this would have meant Jesus being crucified all over again. To me, this is a valid interpretation and worthy of consideration in the light of eternal security.

Another verse thrown at us was Matthew 24:13, which reads, But he that endures to the end, the same shall be saved.

This was spoken during his Olivet Discourse, describing the last days immediately before his second coming. It will be a time of the Great Tribulation, including the Temptation. The coming Antichrist will issue an order to the whole world. Accept his mark or starve to death. In those days, no one will be able to buy or sell unless he has this mark. Only the faithful who refuse to accept the Mark of the Beast and either starve to death, are imprisoned, or executed are saved. Here is where rightly dividing the Word of Truth kicks in, as I had recently learned. The Tribulation saints are not the present Body of Christ. If they are still alive after the Tribulation, then they will inherit an earthly Messianic Kingdom.

3. Then the third quote, James 2:20, Faith without works is dead.

I have heard this repeated like a mantra when OSAS is preached:

Faith without works is dead.

Faith without works is dead.

Faith without works is dead.

Saving faith for salvation is invisible to mankind. Only God can see it. But for someone to see whether the referred person has faith, he can only see it through his works. If I see a good, generous person, I may wonder whether he is a Christian. But if I encounter a churchgoer who is selfish, inconsiderate, and even short-tempered, I would doubt his Christian profession. His faith would be dead to me even if still genuine before God.

To sum up, an evangelist or preacher may present the saving grace of the Gospel of Christ, and this would bring peace and joy to the new believer. But at this stage, he wouldn't know how to rightly divide the Word of Truth. The evangelist will most likely preach on the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ to a group of enquiring unbelievers, but because of his unbelief in OSAS, he would withhold any thought that salvation is forfeitable, and each Christian believer must keep the Law of Moses to remain saved. He knows that wouldn't go down very well, at least for the time being.

Exactly like Nigel Farage and his Reform Party. He is keen on deporting immigrants, but silent on privatising the NHS.

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Next Week, should I consider writing fiction to emphasise Biblical truths?

14. How OSAS saved my Faith.

The Celebration at the Western Wall, Jerusalem.

It was a Friday evening in 1993. My highlight of the year. I was standing just outside the Western Wall courtyard, yet leaning on the partition separating the inner and outer courtyards. The inner yard was crowded with Orthodox Jews, aged from twelve years upwards. Tables were arranged in rows across the inner courtyard, some with chairs. Around these tables, a group sat, listening to a sermon or Bible reading. The inner courtyard was further partitioned by gender, with the women's section approximately a third of the length of the Wall.

The gathering was far from a formal service. It was a celebration. Orthodox Jews lined the Wall, their heads nodding as they prayed. Others formed a long line to dance what we call the Conga, all rejoicing in their praise to God and thanking him for the initiation of their weekly Sabbath. All were dressed the same. A white shirt, most of them open at the neck, while a few wore ties. Some even wore black jackets in the warm air. But all wore the yarmulke, the skullcap, compulsory for all male Jews.

Celebrating the Sabbath at the Western Wall.

Throughout their celebrations, I stood at the partition and watched. I felt at one with them. These were descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. I was watching how they worshipped in their own country, the land God promised to give to their patriarchs. Furthermore, it was here that the Christian faith originated, the offshoot of the original Judaism, consisting of all who believed that their Messiah, Jesus, who was crucified, buried, and rose from the dead on the third day, and through faith alone, would take away our sins forever and receive the imputation of his righteousness.

But if I were to ask any of these Jews whether any of them believed in Once Saved Always Saved (OSAS), without a doubt, they would give me an odd look, probably wondering what on earth I am talking about, then explain that we are to keep the Commandments and remain faithful to the end. For the righteous, they look forward to the future Messianic Kingdom. In this earthly and global kingdom or Olam HaBa, each inhabitant will live in a physical body under their Messiah-King, who will reign from Jerusalem. However, it is agreed among Jewish beliefs that after death, many will spend up to a year in a type of Purgatory, or Gehenna, before reuniting with their own people in the spiritual realm, awaiting the physical Kingdom.

The claims of the afterlife between Judaism and the Roman Catholic Church regarding Purgatory, I find, are striking. Although both faiths agree that Purgatory is temporary, Judaism restricts this to twelve months. Catholics teach that Purgatory could last between a few hours and a thousand years, depending on the life of the deceased believer.

But on both faiths, OSAS is denied.

And the issue was that such denial had percolated within the Reformation. The Anglo-Catholics, the Methodists, the Pentecostals and their varied denominations, along with nearly all the cults, all believe that salvation is forfeitable due to excess sin or renunciation of the faith. People such as the late David Pawson, whom I have already mentioned last week, used their academic qualifications as a weapon to destroy any idea of OSAS being true.

How the Denial of Once Saved Always Saved Affected Me.

For decades after conversion, I lacked the assurance of salvation due to this widespread teaching. This lack of assurance touches everything partaking to day-to-day living. Examples of this include strife in the church fellowship. When a deacon shows greater honour and respect for a graduate than for a factory worker, bad things happen. And then the graduate expresses a level of haughtiness, then for sure, there was grit in the fellowship. In addition, the envy that was generated within me at work. While I was wearing overalls, my better-educated colleagues walked past in their business suits to the offices upstairs.

Much of that was due to parental upbringing. Dad wanted a daughter who graduated from a university. Instead, he had a son who failed at school. This had a big impact on my life as an adult. There were two issues. One was that I suffered from a lion's share of an inferiority complex. The other was that I couldn't understand why I was unable to enjoy the company of a girlfriend, leading to marriage and raising a family. Rather, on one occasion, I was a target of teasing by a couple of young females while I was browsing at a bookstall. To them, I was a laughingstock. And that took place in a church after a service. Ironically, one of them did marry, but divorced some time later without having any children. Her friend disappeared and was never seen again.

It was in 2005 that I had a three-hour session with a psychotherapist as part of the parental assessment course. On the positive side, my IQ was somewhat above average. The downside was that I had high-end autism. This was the reason why I found group socials difficult. Today, I simply refer to myself as "on the spectrum". Again, on the positive side, being on the spectrum was the mental powerhouse for all my travels. I was referred to as "brave" more than once for backpacking the Middle East amidst unrest, along with North America. This was followed by the 1997 Round-the-World solo backpacking, taking in Singapore, Australia, and California. My autism empowered me to snorkel over the Great Barrier Reef, also to hike the Grand Canyon in Arizona, the rainforest at the Blue Mountains National Park in Australia, and the West Coast Path here in the UK.

On the negative side, autism made group socials difficult and kept me single until I was in my mid-forties. And it also robbed me of my assurance of eternal life. That, despite studying the Bible and concentrating on verses supporting OSAS, and believing in this throughout my Christian life.

All came to a head in 1994. That was the year when David Pawson caused a near-riot at a Butlins theatre in Minehead, Somerset, denying the truth of OSAS and declaring an eternity in Hell for divorcing and remarrying. It was the year that our own pastor, Barry Buckingham, received hostile glares for supporting OSAS as a true Biblical doctrine. It was also the year that I was rebuked for suggesting Pawson was a false teacher.

1994 was also the year that I reached the point of renouncing my faith. This was a year after I stood near the Western Wall to watch the Jewish Sabbath celebrations. This time, I returned to Israel as a volunteer at the Christian Conference Centre, Stella Carmel, in the village of Isfiya near Haifa. Remember the two females in their late teens or early twenties taunting me? Well, this happened again at the Centre. But not teasing or laughing at me this time. Instead, it was downright hostility. These unmarried women who called themselves Christians weren't able to handle an autistic colleague, especially an intelligent, high-end male who failed to get a university degree.

The director of the Centre, Peter Acton and his wife were Anglican Church attendees who denied the truth of OSAS, meaning that salvation could be lost by the believer. Another C of E couple, David and his rather aristocratic wife, on one Sunday service, preached against OSAS and also insisted on a forfeitable salvation. But I held my guns. I stuck to believing in OSAS.

Stella Carmel Conference Centre. Taken in 2000.

Later, on the same day of David's Arminian sermon, I was called into Peter's office. The head of Maintenance, Andrew Lessey, was with him. Then the director dropped his bombshell. I was to have my stay as a volunteer terminated the next day, and it was left to me to book my own flight home.

One point here. According to the Centre's policy, anyone who offends by breaching the house rules is sent straight to the airport. When the offence was discovered, the manager then booked a seat for the next available flight home. When one was confirmed, the offender was called in, dismissed and escorted to the airport by a Centre staff member. He then had no other option but to check in.

But with me, this was different. I was allowed to remain in Israel until the right time to book my own flight. This shows that I was innocent. Instead, the director caved in after the demands for me to go were made by the other volunteers.

That night, I didn't sleep a wink. I was alone in one of the Centre's bedrooms, wrapped in torment. It was a personal Hell. During the night, my mind's image of David Pawson added to the torment. Was he right after all? Was he truly a prophet of God? Was I in error to believe in OSAS as Biblical? Is God trying to show me something? If what he says was true, that salvation was forfeitable, wasn't his great success in public preaching and the many books he wrote, confirm all this? Furthermore, had my dismissal from Stella Carmel been proof that I had already lost my salvation, and I'm bound for Hell? And so, the torment continued unabated until the first rays of the Israeli sunshine began to light up the bedroom.

Later that morning, I was escorted to the Haifa Bus Station and abandoned. I was alone with my backpack. I boarded the next bus to Jerusalem, where, after arrival, I found the New Swedish Hostel in the heart of the Old City, a backpackers' resort housed in a Medieval building, and booked a bed at the reception. I was to stay there for a month before flying home.

After checking in, I lay on the bed in an empty dormitory, as it was the middle of the day, and all the others were out. My torment resolved. I was to abandon my faith. Never again would I attend a church and pretend to live a holy life. That was it. My faith in God was over! By heck! No wonder intelligent atheists scorned organised religion. It stank! And the putridness of hypocrisy issuing from Stella Carmel wafted all the way to here in Jerusalem.

After a while, I began to sense a voice in my head. It was gentle, loving, and pleading.

Frank, will you carry on following me?

Immediately, I responded, Yes, Lord. I will follow you.

I rose from the bed and left the hostel to walk along the narrow, roofed street towards the Temple Mount. The way will be hard, a gradual uphill journey, but Once Saved Always Saved has verified itself as true and Biblical.

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You can read the full details of what happened at the Centre, which led to my dismissal, by clicking here. This will take you directly to the blog on the Travel Biography.

Next Week: Lacking assurance? I should have picked up a knife.

13. A Theatre Performance I had Never Attended.

 No Collar to get Hot Under.

One Saturday afternoon during the early 2000s, I sat alone in the Sauna cabin at Coral Reef Waterworld. This was many years after walking into a sauna at the Leisure Centre for the first time in 1976. Back then, I had some muscles after spending time in the gym. But also a slim waist. I had already flown from my parents' nest and was establishing my own home in a newly built apartment block as the residence's first tenant.

During the seventies, the Leisure Centre spa suite had a club-like atmosphere, with each bather known to the others. Since each gender used the facilities on alternate evenings, we were on the men's night and allowed to bathe starkers. One dominating character, a builder and an extrovert, Errol's loud voice dominated the hot room. 

Errol was several years older than I was, but he was physically larger and already an older hand at the sauna suite than I was. Therefore, I felt like a mere youth in his presence and intimidated by his loud talk, especially when teasing or criticising someone he knew behind his back. He was around at the time I flew out to Israel in 1976, then to America in 1977 and again in 1978.

Approximately 30 years later, as I sat in the heat at the Finnish Sauna at Coral Reef, Errol walked in alone and took his place on the lower front bench, while I sat on the high rear bench where the heat was most intense. With just the two of us, I plucked up enough courage to ask what he thought of Jesus Christ.

Having believed that an intelligent discussion might arise from my question, instead, he exploded into an angry tirade. He wasn't angry at me, this I understood. Rather, he was angry at the Roman Catholic Church, where he grew up, believing that God was so fickle over sin that he repeatedly withdrew his grace. Thus, the constant need for grace to be restored by confessing to a priest and doing penance - a set of prayers recited and a programme of good works - to have his road to salvation restored. With the threat of Purgatory after death for even the most devoted believer, and the danger of eternal Hell for any mortal sin left unconfessed, there was no assurance of eternal life for Errol. Even missing Mass (the Eucharist) on a Sunday or Holy Day without a valid reason was considered a mortal sin by the Church.

I was far from feeling judgmental that afternoon. Instead, I felt sorry for him, since I understood how he felt from experience. When I was a teenager, I too had very similar feelings. I, too, grew up in the Catholic faith. Although I referred to myself as an atheist, in reality, it was a hatred for God, his fickleness, and my lifelong attempts to remain in his good books.

A Sauna like this one, where Errol and I met.

Butlins Theatre, Minehead, Somerset.

In December 1972, I was converted to Christ, as already described in this Testimony. One of the earliest doctrines of salvation I was taught was the Eternal Security of the Believer, often known as Once Saved Always Saved (OSAS). This was very new to me, and a massive contrast to the Catholic catechism. The idea of a forfeitable salvation was decided by the Church between 1545 and 1563 during the Council of Trent, and anyone who believed that salvation was attained through faith in Christ alone and was eternally secure was accursed.

However, in the years to come since 1972, I was faced with a debate, and one that was ongoing since the 16th Century. Although OSAS was taught at the Children of God cult, St Jude's in Brixton, and at Bracknell Baptist Church, within the latter, I have come across those who didn't believe in OSAS. These people are known as Arminians, after a 16th-century Dutch Protestant theologian who sought advice from the Catholic founder of the Jesuits, Ignatius of Loyola. There were a few Arminians at Bracknell and Ascot, even though I saw that OSAS was held to be true by the church's elders.

I even read and watched on YouTube videos that OSAS was invented by the Devil, and that it remains promoted by him for an excuse to believe in Christ and still enjoy sinning. If that were true, then the Adversary has failed dramatically on a global scale. Of all the world's religions, including Christianity, belief in OSAS affected only a tiny minority, and the majority of OSAS believers don't practice sin willingly.

According to my own experiences with Arminians, I have found most of them not to be content in their faith. I recall an invitation to a home prayer meeting in 1994. Johnny was in his thirties, married with a pre-teen daughter. Others were invited too, but over the weeks, the group whittled down to just the two of us. In a conversation, I made a passing statement that Once Saved Always Saved. It was a casual utterance, an offhand afterthought. Immediately, Johnny glared angrily at me and denied the truth of OSAS. Two angry men, Errol and Johnny. The only difference was that Errol wasn't angry at me. Johnny was. Both lack the assurance of salvation God has promised to all believers. With Johnny, I feared for his daughter. Would she grow up to be like another Errol?

My friend Richard was also challenged by a frustrated Arminian churchgoer one evening in a pub. I wasn't there, but I believed Richard's story. On another occasion, a whole family, particularly the father, was hostile to me, and it was he who ordered me to move when I sat next to him at a restaurant table during a church men's curry night. This OSAS denier tried to convince one elder that salvation can be lost, and described a very fickle Jesus who constantly kept account of the believer's faith and lifestyle. When this guy was allowed to preach one Sunday, his appalling dress style betrayed his low self-esteem.

So how was Ascot Baptist Church swallowed in this debate in 1994? It was from the Spring Harvest of that year. Minehead in Somerset was one of two Butlins venues where Spring Harvest was held annually. The other venue was Skegness. In 1994, Spring Harvest were divided into three 5-day weeks. At Minehead, an itinerant Bible scholar and Cambridge-educated Methodist pastor was one of the front-stage preachers on Week One. Many at Ascot Baptist Church attended that particular week in Minehead and sat in the main theatre to listen to this fellow's sermon. This Bible scholar was the late David Pawson.

That evening, Pawson preached on Philippians 2:12, work out your salvation with fear and trembling.

What no one in the massive audience realised was that the Scripture does not say, work for your salvation with fear and trembling, but work out your salvation with fear and trembling. There is a big difference. Pawson conveyed the motive of fear of punishment and loss of salvation if we didn't shape up in our faith. This includes couples in the audience who divorced and remarried. To Pawson, this was adultery, and Hellfire awaited them. A near panic erupted in the theatre. It would have blown into a riot had not Pawson's friend and colleague, the late Roger Forster, pleaded with the audience to calm down. After the meeting, a large number sought counselling, mainly to have their fears allayed.

What an experience! With not a single parallel of this kind recorded among the New Testament churches.

I wasn't there at the near riot. Instead, I attended Spring Harvest in Minehead in Week Three. By then, Pawson wasn't there. He was expelled from the Spring Harvest team after the end of Week One for causing a disturbance at the theatre.

The late David Pawson.

After the festival was over and we settled back into our churches, one Sunday morning, our pastor, Barry Buckingham, preached on OSAS, supporting it. Afterwards, one who sat next to me asked, Did you see those arrows flying out of the eyes of the people, and all aimed at Barry?

I replied that I didn't see any arrows. Could this be because I agreed with Barry over OSAS, and the rest didn't?

Then there was a dear senior citizen, the late Barbara Morgan. At a housegroup, I questioned the genuineness of David Pawson, hinting that he might be a false teacher. Immediately, Barbara defended him. He is a man of God who knows the Bible inside out, and many consider him to be a modern-day prophet. (That is, equal to Isaiah, Jeremiah, or any other Old Testament prophet). I dismissed her defence as untrue. Jesus spoke the last word, according to the author of Hebrews. At another meeting, again, I suggested Pawson as a false teacher or prophet. The whole group banded against me in Pawson's defence.

All this goes to show a major flaw in our national Christian culture. In our churches, credibility for leadership, public preaching, or even writing books is not based on a person's spiritual state or on day-to-day real-life experiences. It is based on his level of education. David Pawson gained a Bachelor of Arts in Theology at Cambridge University. That has placed him on a high level of respect, especially by fellow church pastors. He wrote many books, one titled, On the Road to Hell, which has a chapter about the many Christian saints suffering in Hell, and the easy loss of salvation. Another book, Once Saved Always Saved?, has very much the same theme.

A high level of education does not define a true teacher or prophet.

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Next Week, how I struggled with OSAS against its denial.

12. How a Bible in a Rucksack was so Empowering.

My Late Father's Hopelessness in Family Holidays.

Before I was born in 1952, my future mother had left her Italian hometown of Turin and found accommodation in London. Not that there was any dispute with her parents or siblings. During this post-War period, all agreed that she might find better opportunities here in the UK. As such, there were rivers of tears when she boarded the Paris-bound train at the city's Porta Nuova Station.

It was here that she met her future husband at an Italian community in the Barbican area of London. I was born a year after their wedding in 1951. However, throughout my childhood years, and including the birth of my brother six years later, Mum always kept close to her parents in Italy. At first, she corresponded solely by letter-writing. It was several years later that international phone calls became available. These were made via an operator, and the lines were connected after a delay, perhaps up to an hour. Hence, these international calls were a special occasion, despite Dad's anxiety about paying the phone bills.

By the 1960s, Dad had passed his driving test and had bought his first second-hand car, a Ford Popular. After using it locally and taking day trips to the seaside, which was at Brighton, the nearest Channel resort to London, Mum's longing for her reunion with her parents was strong. Hence, during my boyhood, Dad drove us all the way to Italy twice during the sixties, with the final third trip made in 1971, when I was 18, and dating my first girlfriend, Sandra.

The only exciting moment of these holidays was the Channel crossings. It took three days to cover the 770-mile distance, with two nights spent sleeping in the car. We had to face the truth. Dad was hopeless with hotel bookings, and as for "off the street" walk-ins, it wasn't that he lacked confidence. Rather, these holidays were governed by a tight budget. Sleeping in a parked car was his solution to a holiday abroad that my parents couldn't really afford.

My maternal grandparents (Italian: Nonni) lived on the top floor of an apartment block, the standard of Italian housing. Every apartment had two balconies, and the upper floor offered interesting views, especially from the rear balcony, which overlooked a children's swing park. Thank goodness for the swing park!

If it wasn't for the swing park, I would have gone mad with sheer boredom! My grandparents couldn't speak English; in turn, I couldn't understand Italian. Therefore, at age 13, I was locked out of all conversations. My apparent apathy towards the extended family earned a hard smack across the cheek from Dad, and a loud telling off from my grandfather, whose endless torrent of unintelligible words landed on deaf ears. Turin is an inland city, no seaside, no amusements, no stroll in any beautiful environment. An industrial town with its urbanisation, and with little historic significance, to my mind.

1966, aged 13. Dad drove us to Italy to see Nonni.

However, it was during the 1971 trip to Italy that I enjoyed some independence, although still staying at our maternal grandparents'. Avoiding their unintelligible chatter, I, alone, took the tram to the city centre, and I discovered that Turin did have something to offer the tourist, although there were no Roman archaeological sites. The River Po passes through the east of the city, and with the hills in the background, making a pleasing environment.

Dad's first car was a second-hand Ford Popular.

Independent Travel? It's in my Genes.

The Costa Brava on the Mediterranean coast of Spain, just south of the Pyrenees, was my first holiday abroad with a college friend and without my parents. It was 1972, and I was approaching the end of my teenage years. However, I still wasn't a Christian believer, and by natural instincts, this was a time for unrestricted hedonism, to "let it all out" after my boyhood constraints at my grandparents' apartment. This led to alcohol intoxication during the night, even spent the small hours of one night sleeping in the hotel bathtub amidst vomit.

Spain 1972 was a package holiday with the travel firm Cosmos. A package is a trip for which both the airline flight and hotel accommodation were made under a single booking. The hotel also serves as a base for excursions, a day spent on an escorted tour. In this one, we boarded a coach for a day trip to Barcelona, taking a boat cruise around the harbour, followed by an afternoon spent watching a traditional Spanish bullfight.

I became a Christian believer in December 1972. This conversion had changed my mode of travel entirely. A change from family get-togethers and then package hedonism to solo backpacking. And this was to be my mode of travel until our honeymoon in 1999, where we had a package to the Greek island of Rhodes.

27 years of solo backpacking. On two different occasions, I was referred to as brave. It was a lovely compliment. Yet, I was surprised. I never equated backpacking with fighting in a war, or rescuing someone from a housefire, or a drowning person from deep water. However, from a Christian point of view, I was rather unique. Why was this? 

My experience with church people of my age bracket seldom ventured abroad on their own. They had their own travel firm, Oak Hall, a company specialising in Christian packages. There was even a posh version, Intersun, now Richmond Travel, for Christians who wish to holiday with the elite. But solo backpacking? Within the 27 years of independent travel, I have never encountered another backpacker of the faith. Indeed, I knew of one believer who flew across the Atlantic Ocean to attend a conference in Washington DC. Another flew out to attend a church revival in Florida. But backpacking - to travel from one destination to another, each with its own accommodation- I'm still waiting for someone to testify.

But believing that God will care for me at all times has encouraged me to venture out. One example of this was Israel in 1976. This was after three years of Bible study. Since almost the entire Bible is centred on Jerusalem, and the city of the Crucifixion, Burial, and the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, God incarnate, this was one place I wanted to visit for myself. So, with a Bible packed in my luggage, I set off alone, unlike any other Christian I knew, and having arrived, I walked into a hotel to ask if there was a room available. That is independent travel.

The 1977 and 1978 trips to Canada and the USA followed the same pattern. With a Bible in my luggage, I travelled from town to town, from one tourist venue to another, always walking into a hotel or hostel from the street, and being offered a room or a dormitory bed. 

Long-haul travel ceased temporarily after the 1978 trip to the States. This was due to a change of occupation, from a machinist at the British Aircraft Corporation, to a year of unemployment, to becoming self-employed in 1980.

As mentioned last week, it was October 1992 when I received something like a vision while I was up on a ladder and cleaning a bedroom window. The vision was about my second trip to the Holy Land, specifically to pray for Jerusalem. The fulfilment of the vision took place ten months later in 1993, thus proving its genuine authenticity.  This was to open a new era of long-haul travel as an independent backpacker. This time, I carried a rucksack on my shoulders, freeing my arms, making me a "proper" backpacker. Before then, I hauled a suitcase. This second era of backpacking lasted eight years between 1993 and 2000 inclusive, the year we went for our final visit to the Holy Land before the birth of our first daughter. Except for our honeymoon in 1999, which was a package, in 2000, we walked into two different hostels, and we were offered a room in each. The independent way.

Although I boast about my mode of travel over the years, I fully realise that all of it was linked to my faith in Jesus Christ as Saviour and Guide. Take-off was, as I remember, preceded by prayer and entrusting myself to God's care. By recognising the need for his Guidance, I ventured out without fear or trepidation. Travel experience peaked in 1997. After hiking the Grand Canyon in 1995, the climax was backpacking in Australia. In 1997, I was able to gaze at the Southern Cross constellation in the night sky, streaked with the Milky Way, and look through goggles at the corals making up the Great Barrier Reef while snorkelling.

Cream of backpacking: hiking the Grand Canyon, 1995.

Cream of backpacking: the Great Barrier Reef, 1997.

On this Blogger page, I have written a detailed Biography of my travels. This was the result of the wishes of my readers, who also suggested writing a book. Feeling shy of approaching publishers, I have posted it here. It's quite long, all 129 weeks. Therefore, I have created an Index to the Biography, splitting it into sections. To access the section that interests you, first, click here for the Index. Then click the appropriate section you are interested in. Many sections have several blogs. After finishing the first, click "Newer Blog" which is found at the foot of the page.

Also proved to be even more popular are the travel photos. These consist of 58 weeks. However, there is no separate index for the photo section. To reach it, again, click on the Index, and click on "Newer Post". This brings you to the start of the photo album.

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Next Week, one man stood up. The theatre audience fell into a panic. And how that affected me.