It was one those unusual evenings after alighting at London Waterloo Station when I thought a walk across the River Thames on a traffic-free footbridge would be more fulfiling than boarding a London Underground, or Tube train, direct from the mainline terminus.
An old route has recently been reopened. After being closed off for several years due to the presence of a huge redevelopment project, a footbridge now crosses the busy York Road into South Bank, where two newly-built skyscrapers reaching heavenward stand side by side, with a pedestrian concourse in between, giving easy access to Jubilee Park which fronts the river, itself dominated by the huge bicycle wheel-like London Eye, erected twenty years earlier to commemorate the start of the new Millennium.
The presence of these sky-high buildings, along with the noise of busy traffic behind, made me feel very small and insignificant. And indeed, whilst at the otherwise deserted concourse, a mother and two young children were making their way in the opposite direction, towards Waterloo. The mother was frustrated with her daughter, looking to be six or seven years old. Although she was telling her off for something, her foreign tongue prevented me from understanding what she was saying to her. The sole parent was also wheeling a pushchair, within a two-year-old boy was strapped, his cheeks run with tears as he was screaming his protest. By looking back after they had passed, the reason for his tears became obvious. Poor Mum, thinking only for the best for her son, attempted to cover his head with a woolly balaclava, only to be violently whipped off immediately whilst the child cried even louder.
There was something about the whole scene which hit me hard. The two huge and intimidating skyscrapers, with us in between, the roar of nearby traffic. And the sight of a screaming two-year-old whose wails contrasted so feebly with the traffic noise. All in all, a picture of minuteness in a huge, uncaring world. I felt my emotions slide into a deep depression.
Halfway across the gardens, I was approached from behind by an Afro-Carribean, in his twenties, who asked me where he can find Eye-Park. A very suspicious question indeed. Whether he was referring to the gardens we were at, or Hyde Park (quite a distance from where we were) or some other location I had never heard of before, I just turned around and, I hope, with an aggressive expression, I said I don't know. He beat a rapid retreat. Being very aware of sly pickpocketing gangs using this very approach to avert attention, I was very wary, checking that I hadn't lost anything.
I approached Embankment Station on the other side of the river, and after passing easily through the barriers, it was only a few moments later, whilst sitting at the platform, when tears were rolling down my own face. The young child back at that concourse brought out all mental images of my beloved, first her present absence, then her illness, her hair loss during chemotherapy, now her daily trips to Guildford for radiotherapy, in addition to our own daughters growing up elsewhere...I felt no shame as my tears flowed, only to be interrupted by the rumbling of the train slowing down as it enters the tubular station.
As the train doors opened and those who wanted to alight had all done so, there was this gent with a holding case just standing there on the platform edge, outside the waiting train, blocking my entry just as the doors were about to shut. I muttered:
For heaven's sake, get in there!
He stepped in with me immediately following. He then launched into a tirade. How dare that I hurried him to board the train! I had a choice. I could either:
A. With my clenched fist, force him to swallow his own teeth, or
B. Ignore his tirade and move away along the carriage.
With the train packed with many standing, including both of us, I thought B was the better option. After all, a scene was what I just did not want, being on board a crowded train, and then the police, etc, etc.
At last, I alighted at the street at Russell Square. Directly opposite the station is a Pret A'Manger Coffee bar. I was hungry so this was quite a welcoming sight. Yes, as soon as I had settled down with a cappuccino and croissant, another Afro-Caribbean or one of Asian origin, looking to be in his late twenties or early thirties, approached my table from behind, asking for small change. Despite my anger, I just told him to go away without swearing or being too rude. I was amazed when he went around all the other tables, including one occupied by two women, with the same request. No one gave him anything. And rightly so. He looked healthy, well-fed, and clothed reasonably well. Not only that, but outside in the street, I saw him prattling around without any sign of distress, asking passersby for money. Homeless? He looked to be a fake.
Gosh, what a journey! Four separate incidences within just a couple of miles and feeling down in the pits. But where was my final destination? It was at Senate House of the University of London, where I was to attend a lecture delivered by Prof Michael Scott, who is also a BBC TV presenter on classical archaeology, on the same par as BBC presenters Brian Cox or Simon Reeve. Tonight's theme was about the ancient city of Herculaneum, destroyed by the eruption of Mt Vesuvius in AD 79.
I felt all my negative emotions melt away as I entered the Woburn Suite fifteen minutes before the start of the lecture, feeling far more relaxed and content. As I occupied a seat on the second row from the front, I did notice that the majority of attendees making up the audience were senior citizens, very much unlike the audience of Oxford students who attended a debate two weeks earlier at Trinity College. These were not only predominantly senior citizens but they had an upper-middle-class look about them. Yet the topic of Herculaneum was always something of interest, going way back to 1973 while backpacking Italy, the train I was in flew through the station of Portici Ercolano whilst on its way to Salerno from Central Naples, to alight at Pompei to visit the excavations.
I felt a sense of anticipation as I watched the professor talking to one important-looking elderly chap, dressed in suit and tie, before commencing on his talk. During his lecture, there was one item of discussion which, to me stood out from the rest of the life and events of Herculaneum, and that was to do with the effects of the eruption. People attempting to hide from the pyroclastic blast were annihilated instantly. This including the boiling of the blood and other body fluids to complete dryness in 560-degree Celcius heat. But what I found most striking of all was the brain of one individual vitrified into a glass fragment as the hot blast hit him. Scott spent quite a bit of his lecture on this alone, explaining that the early archaeologists thought that the glass fragment, which was found inside the victim's skull, were pieces of jewellery until laboratory testing proved otherwise.
A human brain vitrified into a piece of glass? Isn't glass made from sand mixed with some silicone heated to a very high temperature? In other words, glass is sand which as been through intense heat. Yet he's speaking about a human brain, made of organic material consisting of billions of nerve cells - turning into a piece of glass!
I can't help but remember the Scriptures, that the first man, Adam, was created from the dust of the earth. After the Fall, God reminds our first parents that they were made from the ground, they are dust, and to the ground, they return (Genesis 3:19). How amazing then, that Science, Archaeology, and a secular Professor has all unwittingly endorsed the truth of Holy Scripture!
Following the lecture was question time. Unlike at Trinity College where the moderator decided whose question will be received, this time it was Scott himself who pointed at my raised hand. I then asked:
Sir, back in the eighties I had a copy of The National Geographic.* In it was an article about the find of an upturned hull of a boat found in one of the arches of Herculaneum. Archaeologists were very interested in the find, but with the interior concealed in mud, they were keen to discover how the Romans fared at sea. But the hull was scorched to charcoal and therefore very brittle to the touch. Has any more information about this boat come to light since the article was published?
Professor Scott looked flabbergasted as he tried to answer my question, then admitted his own unawareness of the boat. After the meeting officially closed the important-looking elderly chap dressed in his suit and tie then approached me in person.
He then went on to explain to me that yes, he is familiar with the boat, and it's now on display at the Pliny Museum, located on-site at Ercolano. Looking at his prominent breast identity badge, I could see that this fellow was Rob Fowler, chief Treasurer of the Herculaneum Society, which is responsible for annual escorted tours of the region, which he tells me that this year's trip is already fully booked up. Such visits allow visitors into parts of the excavations not open to the public. All members also receive literature, news and updates mainly on Herculaneum itself. Fortunately, he did not try to push any sales tat on me to join the club. Who knows, maybe I just don't look the posh type! Before I left, I shook hands with open-neck Professor Michael Scott himself, the TV celebrity, and thanking him on how well I have enjoyed the talk.
What a contrast of moods in just one evening. How I felt after seeing this mother and her two offspring, followed with my threefold reaction to different fellows at each situation has confirmed that unless I'm fully acquited by Jesus Christ and having his righteousness imputed into my account, there is absolutely no hope of Heaven after death. As such, believing in Once Saved Always Saved, or Eternal Security of the Believer is vitally crucial in my walk with God. Such reality of Biblical truth was as if forced upon me during the lecture. Here I was reminded of the awful, instantaneous deaths suffered by the people of Herculaneum and Pompei alike.
Were they greater sinners than I am today? By no means, according to Jesus himself. But unless I repent, I too will perish like they did (Luke 13:4) and unless I believe that he is, I too will perish in my sins (John 8:24.) To change my mind to believe that this Jesus of Nazareth is the risen Christ is the essence of repentance. But once having truely believed, my being becomes the home of the Holy Spirit and I forever become a son of God. That is wonderful news.
That's why I long for those who don't believe in Once Saved Always Saved to realise what a bad situation to be in. There are many such Christians, some I have known personally. Perhaps the idea of keeping the British stiff upper lip will prevent them from falling into sin. The trouble with that idea is that one can fall into sin just by harbouring a pleasant but unclean thought. Or to silently or under breath call someone an idiot without actually verbalising it. Really, how far into sin one sinks into before losing his salvation? No one can define where the line is, when crossed over, salvation is lost. But the Bible says that one who keeps the whole Law perfectly until he stumbles at just one point has already sinned, having broken the Law and is subject to judgement (James 2:10.) That's why God justifies the wicked or the ungodly through the imputed righteousness of Christ (Romans 4:5.) There is no other option.
Indeed, sin is still in me. John the Apostle agrees. In his first letter, he writes that anyone who says he is without sin is deceiving himself (1 John 1:8). Not surprising, as a human, I too suffer emotional turbulence - even as a believer in the risen Jesus Christ. And that had begun just by seeing a screaming two-year-old trying to survive in a big, noisy and apparently uncaring world. Yet, I did not sin when I saw the child. What has happened straight after, the emotional knock-on effect eventually led to sin.
I thank God for God's mercy - and not end up like any of those poor souls in Herculaneum.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*National Geographic, vol 165, No.5. May 1984.
An old route has recently been reopened. After being closed off for several years due to the presence of a huge redevelopment project, a footbridge now crosses the busy York Road into South Bank, where two newly-built skyscrapers reaching heavenward stand side by side, with a pedestrian concourse in between, giving easy access to Jubilee Park which fronts the river, itself dominated by the huge bicycle wheel-like London Eye, erected twenty years earlier to commemorate the start of the new Millennium.
 |
| London Eye across Jubilee Gardens. |
The presence of these sky-high buildings, along with the noise of busy traffic behind, made me feel very small and insignificant. And indeed, whilst at the otherwise deserted concourse, a mother and two young children were making their way in the opposite direction, towards Waterloo. The mother was frustrated with her daughter, looking to be six or seven years old. Although she was telling her off for something, her foreign tongue prevented me from understanding what she was saying to her. The sole parent was also wheeling a pushchair, within a two-year-old boy was strapped, his cheeks run with tears as he was screaming his protest. By looking back after they had passed, the reason for his tears became obvious. Poor Mum, thinking only for the best for her son, attempted to cover his head with a woolly balaclava, only to be violently whipped off immediately whilst the child cried even louder.
There was something about the whole scene which hit me hard. The two huge and intimidating skyscrapers, with us in between, the roar of nearby traffic. And the sight of a screaming two-year-old whose wails contrasted so feebly with the traffic noise. All in all, a picture of minuteness in a huge, uncaring world. I felt my emotions slide into a deep depression.
Halfway across the gardens, I was approached from behind by an Afro-Carribean, in his twenties, who asked me where he can find Eye-Park. A very suspicious question indeed. Whether he was referring to the gardens we were at, or Hyde Park (quite a distance from where we were) or some other location I had never heard of before, I just turned around and, I hope, with an aggressive expression, I said I don't know. He beat a rapid retreat. Being very aware of sly pickpocketing gangs using this very approach to avert attention, I was very wary, checking that I hadn't lost anything.
I approached Embankment Station on the other side of the river, and after passing easily through the barriers, it was only a few moments later, whilst sitting at the platform, when tears were rolling down my own face. The young child back at that concourse brought out all mental images of my beloved, first her present absence, then her illness, her hair loss during chemotherapy, now her daily trips to Guildford for radiotherapy, in addition to our own daughters growing up elsewhere...I felt no shame as my tears flowed, only to be interrupted by the rumbling of the train slowing down as it enters the tubular station.
As the train doors opened and those who wanted to alight had all done so, there was this gent with a holding case just standing there on the platform edge, outside the waiting train, blocking my entry just as the doors were about to shut. I muttered:
For heaven's sake, get in there!
He stepped in with me immediately following. He then launched into a tirade. How dare that I hurried him to board the train! I had a choice. I could either:
A. With my clenched fist, force him to swallow his own teeth, or
B. Ignore his tirade and move away along the carriage.
With the train packed with many standing, including both of us, I thought B was the better option. After all, a scene was what I just did not want, being on board a crowded train, and then the police, etc, etc.
At last, I alighted at the street at Russell Square. Directly opposite the station is a Pret A'Manger Coffee bar. I was hungry so this was quite a welcoming sight. Yes, as soon as I had settled down with a cappuccino and croissant, another Afro-Caribbean or one of Asian origin, looking to be in his late twenties or early thirties, approached my table from behind, asking for small change. Despite my anger, I just told him to go away without swearing or being too rude. I was amazed when he went around all the other tables, including one occupied by two women, with the same request. No one gave him anything. And rightly so. He looked healthy, well-fed, and clothed reasonably well. Not only that, but outside in the street, I saw him prattling around without any sign of distress, asking passersby for money. Homeless? He looked to be a fake.
Gosh, what a journey! Four separate incidences within just a couple of miles and feeling down in the pits. But where was my final destination? It was at Senate House of the University of London, where I was to attend a lecture delivered by Prof Michael Scott, who is also a BBC TV presenter on classical archaeology, on the same par as BBC presenters Brian Cox or Simon Reeve. Tonight's theme was about the ancient city of Herculaneum, destroyed by the eruption of Mt Vesuvius in AD 79.
I felt all my negative emotions melt away as I entered the Woburn Suite fifteen minutes before the start of the lecture, feeling far more relaxed and content. As I occupied a seat on the second row from the front, I did notice that the majority of attendees making up the audience were senior citizens, very much unlike the audience of Oxford students who attended a debate two weeks earlier at Trinity College. These were not only predominantly senior citizens but they had an upper-middle-class look about them. Yet the topic of Herculaneum was always something of interest, going way back to 1973 while backpacking Italy, the train I was in flew through the station of Portici Ercolano whilst on its way to Salerno from Central Naples, to alight at Pompei to visit the excavations.
I felt a sense of anticipation as I watched the professor talking to one important-looking elderly chap, dressed in suit and tie, before commencing on his talk. During his lecture, there was one item of discussion which, to me stood out from the rest of the life and events of Herculaneum, and that was to do with the effects of the eruption. People attempting to hide from the pyroclastic blast were annihilated instantly. This including the boiling of the blood and other body fluids to complete dryness in 560-degree Celcius heat. But what I found most striking of all was the brain of one individual vitrified into a glass fragment as the hot blast hit him. Scott spent quite a bit of his lecture on this alone, explaining that the early archaeologists thought that the glass fragment, which was found inside the victim's skull, were pieces of jewellery until laboratory testing proved otherwise.
 |
| This glass fragment is actually a vitrified human brain. |
 |
| Another view of the same glass fragment found inside a skull. |
A human brain vitrified into a piece of glass? Isn't glass made from sand mixed with some silicone heated to a very high temperature? In other words, glass is sand which as been through intense heat. Yet he's speaking about a human brain, made of organic material consisting of billions of nerve cells - turning into a piece of glass!
I can't help but remember the Scriptures, that the first man, Adam, was created from the dust of the earth. After the Fall, God reminds our first parents that they were made from the ground, they are dust, and to the ground, they return (Genesis 3:19). How amazing then, that Science, Archaeology, and a secular Professor has all unwittingly endorsed the truth of Holy Scripture!
Following the lecture was question time. Unlike at Trinity College where the moderator decided whose question will be received, this time it was Scott himself who pointed at my raised hand. I then asked:
Sir, back in the eighties I had a copy of The National Geographic.* In it was an article about the find of an upturned hull of a boat found in one of the arches of Herculaneum. Archaeologists were very interested in the find, but with the interior concealed in mud, they were keen to discover how the Romans fared at sea. But the hull was scorched to charcoal and therefore very brittle to the touch. Has any more information about this boat come to light since the article was published?
Professor Scott looked flabbergasted as he tried to answer my question, then admitted his own unawareness of the boat. After the meeting officially closed the important-looking elderly chap dressed in his suit and tie then approached me in person.
He then went on to explain to me that yes, he is familiar with the boat, and it's now on display at the Pliny Museum, located on-site at Ercolano. Looking at his prominent breast identity badge, I could see that this fellow was Rob Fowler, chief Treasurer of the Herculaneum Society, which is responsible for annual escorted tours of the region, which he tells me that this year's trip is already fully booked up. Such visits allow visitors into parts of the excavations not open to the public. All members also receive literature, news and updates mainly on Herculaneum itself. Fortunately, he did not try to push any sales tat on me to join the club. Who knows, maybe I just don't look the posh type! Before I left, I shook hands with open-neck Professor Michael Scott himself, the TV celebrity, and thanking him on how well I have enjoyed the talk.
What a contrast of moods in just one evening. How I felt after seeing this mother and her two offspring, followed with my threefold reaction to different fellows at each situation has confirmed that unless I'm fully acquited by Jesus Christ and having his righteousness imputed into my account, there is absolutely no hope of Heaven after death. As such, believing in Once Saved Always Saved, or Eternal Security of the Believer is vitally crucial in my walk with God. Such reality of Biblical truth was as if forced upon me during the lecture. Here I was reminded of the awful, instantaneous deaths suffered by the people of Herculaneum and Pompei alike.
Were they greater sinners than I am today? By no means, according to Jesus himself. But unless I repent, I too will perish like they did (Luke 13:4) and unless I believe that he is, I too will perish in my sins (John 8:24.) To change my mind to believe that this Jesus of Nazareth is the risen Christ is the essence of repentance. But once having truely believed, my being becomes the home of the Holy Spirit and I forever become a son of God. That is wonderful news.
That's why I long for those who don't believe in Once Saved Always Saved to realise what a bad situation to be in. There are many such Christians, some I have known personally. Perhaps the idea of keeping the British stiff upper lip will prevent them from falling into sin. The trouble with that idea is that one can fall into sin just by harbouring a pleasant but unclean thought. Or to silently or under breath call someone an idiot without actually verbalising it. Really, how far into sin one sinks into before losing his salvation? No one can define where the line is, when crossed over, salvation is lost. But the Bible says that one who keeps the whole Law perfectly until he stumbles at just one point has already sinned, having broken the Law and is subject to judgement (James 2:10.) That's why God justifies the wicked or the ungodly through the imputed righteousness of Christ (Romans 4:5.) There is no other option.
 |
| Professor Michael Scott, whom I met personally. |
Indeed, sin is still in me. John the Apostle agrees. In his first letter, he writes that anyone who says he is without sin is deceiving himself (1 John 1:8). Not surprising, as a human, I too suffer emotional turbulence - even as a believer in the risen Jesus Christ. And that had begun just by seeing a screaming two-year-old trying to survive in a big, noisy and apparently uncaring world. Yet, I did not sin when I saw the child. What has happened straight after, the emotional knock-on effect eventually led to sin.
I thank God for God's mercy - and not end up like any of those poor souls in Herculaneum.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*National Geographic, vol 165, No.5. May 1984.
Dear Frank,
ReplyDeleteAs science advances, it is amazing (and yet not surprising) how facts in the Bible are corroborated by scientific observations. Secular scientists often do this without realizing, as in an article I recently read about the genetic overlap between Neanderthal and modern-day man. This would be expec5ed if both were offshoots of a common ancestor, and not if the second "evolved" from the first.
Praise God that He loves us infinitely and that once saved, we are eternally secure, no matter what sinful state or mindset we are in.
Thanks as always for the excellent,thought-provoking post. Prayers for you and Alex.
God bless,
Laurie
Thank you for a very interesting post. My youngest son came home from School the other day and told me how his teacher (who is not a Christian) told the class how we are all only star-dust. I smiled and referred to the Bible and confirmed that we are all infact dust, however very much loved dust, so much so that Christ gave His life for us. I could see the little fellow thinking for a bit, then he smiled and ran along to play. Your post reminded me of how small, yet how loved we are. God bless, Pam in Norway
ReplyDeleteI don't know much about Herculaneum. Your post has introduced me to it and I'm interested in knowing more, particularly about how ONLY the brain seemed to vitrify. What was so different about his brain, vs the rest of his body?
ReplyDeletePraise God that He loves us eternally despite all my shortcomings, and we are safely hemmed in with Him. Thanks for blogging, Frank.
Sam.