Let Him Who Is Without Sin...

Jesus was sitting at the Temple grounds, teaching the crowds surrounding him. Presently there was a disturbance as a group of Pharisees were dragging a desperate woman towards him, kicking and shouting as she struggled to break free.

Jesus probably glanced upwards with the thought, Oh dear, here we go again - and began to write on the dust. What he was writing, nobody knows, and we still don't know to this day, as the Holy Spirit did not feel it was necessary to tell us. The group then stood before Jesus as he sat there with his finger continuing to write. Then one of the Pharisees, sensing the Lord's apparent apathy or disinterest, began to present his case with urgency, accusing her on how she was caught in the very act of adultery, and asking whether she should be put to death, as the Scripture says. The rest of the crowd who was listening to Jesus turned with anticipated excitement combined with a sense of shock of certain execution taking place right in their midst.

Instead, Jesus kept on disregarding the woman's accusers as he kept on writing (or maybe, doodling.) As the leading Pharisee kept up with his accusations, Jesus could have asked about the whereabouts of the male lover, if she was caught in the act, and why he wasn't with them, being dragged alongside with her. After all, it takes two to tango. And I wished he had asked that! It would have been interesting if the accuser had to answer. Thus, the story was lacking much for it to make proper sense. 

The accusing Pharisee still had a valid point. He was referring to Leviticus 20:10, where it says that if a man lies with another man's wife, then both must be stoned to death. Therefore, where was he?

And after a period of provocation by the accusers, Jesus finally looks up and answers:

Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.

This story is recorded in the first eleven verses of John, chapter eight. In the KJV, it's included in the normal flow of the script without any gaps or comments. In the NIV, a note is inserted in the interruption preceding the text, explaining that the earliest and most reliable manuscripts do not contain this portion, followed by a lined space preceding verse 12. The RSV goes even further, omitting the story altogether and inserting it as a page footer with a suggestion that it might have been a fragment taken from Luke's Gospel. 

But whatever its origin, the inspiration behind the story is obvious enough. It's history, on the same level of truthfulness as the Crucifixion itself. And within the last few weeks, more than once have I seen the answer Jesus gave to justify the deeds done by our political leaders.

It can be controversial, this idea of letting anyone who is without sin to throw the first stone, that is, to execute judgement. Really, how far can this be taken? Yet I have had those words thrown at me on Facebook whenever an issue was raised. Yet, if I was to take the Lord's words literally on all levels, then would our Law Courts cease to exist? Would all inmates be freed and all prisons closed? One night a burglar breaks into a house and makes off with jewellery which has sentimental connections as well as a high value in price. The victim goes to the Police to report the crime and to get justice. Only to be told that the Law will only act on his behalf if the victim can prove that he's without sin.

Doesn't make sense, does it? At first, this looks totally unjustifiable. The householder whose jewels were precious to him suffers a terrible loss, while some stranger is going to sell the stolen items for personal profit. Indeed, any reader would instantly comment that the two offences are beyond comparison. But are they really that incompatible? 

A woman commits adultery. If the punishment for this offence is taken from Old Testament justice such as Leviticus 20:10, then the woman was already married to someone else, hence the seriousness of the sin. Her husband would have felt cheated, and now has to endure a terrible loss and enforced widowhood. The loss felt by the husband of his beloved would have been just as intense as the loss of precious jewellery, maybe more so, as the wife is of one flesh with the husband and close to his heart. I could even go as far as the possibility of him ready to forgive, as was the case of the Old Testament prophet Hosea, who brought back home his wayward wife, but the original letter of the law forbids this. Instead, she has to die, along with her lover. And in this case, with Jesus, the lover must have either done a runner or was told to escape.

But the chance of the cheated husband feeling enraged could have been equally possible, and his wishing for an act of quick revenge would have remained unfulfilled with the Lord's willingness to forgive. It may not have been the loss of jewellery irritating him, but having been cheated, the loss of justice and the greater likelihood of forbidding her to return home. On the other hand, by recognising who Jesus is, he might have also forgiven her and took her back in.

With such complications surrounding the incident, I have come to conclude that this was a unique, one-off occasion with the dual purpose of getting her accusers, all of them religious, to see sin lurking within their own hearts and that forgiveness is available to them too if they believe that this particular man is their Messiah, the Son of God. Even if the origins of this story has been questioned, no doubt, it teaches a valuable lesson, and that is, to believe that this Jesus - the one sitting at the Temple and writing on the ground - will be their risen Christ, from whom acquittal will be granted to all who believe.

Later, in the Acts of the Apostles, an instance of instant retribution is dished out to a couple, Ananias and Sapphira, for lying to the Holy Spirit, Acts 5:1-11. The church in Jerusalem was in a crisis and a decision was made by its leaders for anyone to contribute financially towards it. We are told that Barnabas sold his field and willingly gave all his proceeds to the church elders. And many others all made similar donations by selling off what they had and laying the money at the apostle's feet. Then came Ananias and his wife Sapphira. They too sold their field but afterwards agreed between themselves to give only a portion of their money and keeping some back. That in itself isn't bad. They were free to keep back all they had. All was purely voluntary.

But instead, they gave only a portion and then declared that this was the full price gotten for the sale of their field. When Peter revealed their sin, they both died instantly, the husband first, then his wife three hours later. It's a far cry from the fate of the adulterous woman brought before Jesus, and for a crime which, at a human point of view, looks far less severe than committing adultery. It does look as if administering justice was not abolished by being aware of universal sin lurking in the heart.

And Romans 13:1-7 endorses this. Here, Paul gives the very reason why governments exist and why we are encouraged to obey all in authority. Governments are there to keep evil in check and to ensure the best administration for the country, province or territory. And the apostle warns that everyone who does evil will need to be in fear of them, as they are the authority appointed by God to bring justice. Likewise, those who do good can receive praise from the same. And that was written long after Jesus dealt with the adulteress.

However, although both Paul and Peter have encouraged all Christians to honour and obey the king, ancient history tells us that the Roman emperors were some of the evilest men who ever walked the earth, guilty of murder, adultery, even incest and paedophilia, so the story goes. Nero, for one, is reputed to have killed his own mother, Agrippina, to secure his own independent power. Yet Christians in his day, under the apostles, Paul and Peter, were exhorted to give honour to the king and to obey the laws of the land.

Therefore I need to ask: Was I wrong to raise the issue about our Prime Minister when his suitability for the job was under scrutiny? And that with his life history tainted by more than one divorce and at present, had just fathered a child from his girlfriend half his age? One friend answered back:

Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. 

And that was posted to me by one of our ex-church leaders.

It's well known that the one who posted that statement was a devout Brexiteer, and our Tory PM Boris Johnson promised: "to get Brexit done" as his last election manifesto. This makes me wonder whether our Facebook friend would have posted the same statement if our PM had been a Labour leader who pushed hard to remain in the EU and had, in the past, walked out of his wife and family to date a female half his age. Indeed, would he had picked up the stones then, or simply walk away like those Pharisees did?

And now, over the past week, this scandal over Dominic Cummings. He is the PM's chief advisor who played a major role in Brexit and he was also behind the Coronavirus lockdown, insisting that we all, as a nation, to stay home, stay safe and respect the NHS. According to the Press, Cummings was attending meetings held behind closed doors alongside our top scientists in putting together the appropriate action for tackling the pandemic.

Then, after the edict was passed and endorsed by our Government, faithful people stayed at home and stopped visiting their family members living elsewhere. This included hospital visits, care home exclusions and minimal funeral attendance. We were also banned to drive miles to national parks and other popular venues. One dog walker was stopped and reprimanded by the Police for walking his dog in a remote area of the Peak District National Park. Other motorists, on their way to the coast, were forced to turn and go back home, on the orders of the Police.

Yet, Cummings drove the 264-mile distance from London to Durham to sort out a family issue. He then drove a further 30 miles to Barnard Castle "to test my eyesight." If he was unsure about his eyesight whilst on that leg of the journey, how did he manage the 264-mile trip in the first place with his wife and son?

Tie-less advisor - Dominic Cummings. 

During the debate which followed, a poll revealed up to 52% wished for him to leave his post as Advisor, whether by resignation or by dismissal by the PM, and the remaining 48% insist he should stay. From the 48% who thinks he should stay in his job, a quote appeared on Facebook, posted by a journalist in full support for him:

Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.

That was aimed towards all those who felt judgemental towards Dominic Cummings. As for me, I have become fed up with the issue. If he goes, then let him go. But if he wants to stay, then let him stay - but with much discredit to his advice. But with opinion split almost right down the middle (the same result, by the way, with the 2016 referendum whether to stay in or leave the EU) - I can't help but believe that the majority of pollsters who voted for Cummings to remain in his post were Brexiteers, and those who want him out were mainly Remainers, although there is an area of grey in between.

Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.

Okay, I have been reprimanded. Let me stand back and just allow matters to take their course.

After all, God is our sovereign Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer, to which we all have to give an account. I'll trust in Him. 

Airlines and Computers in the Bible?

Do you find yourself going through an evening where you're stuck at home and don't know what to do? You take a look at the TV guide, only to find that there is not much on which is worth watching on either BBC channels. Oh, there is a movie, an exciting drama on one of the commercial channels, but what's the point in watching a movie so frequently interrupted by commercial breaks, when you already have your own DVD recording of the movie? So shall it be watched again? Not really. You have watched it already only last week, and that was the third time after purchasing it.

I have to be honest here. I despise commercial channels! For me, anyway, I find nothing more frustrating than to be deeply involved with the plot of the film, and just when an exciting bit arrives, there is this sudden silence followed by an advert on Kitekat (we don't have a cat) or Chunkie dog food (we don't have a dog either) or this geyser driving a flash sports car as he passes a lone young female at an exotic location and tries to impress her. Not very relevant to me here either, for I don't have a driving license. The only appropriate advertisement is the one on Cadbury's Dairy Milk. After all, who doesn't like chocolate? But alas, there's no chocolate in the house and either the superstore had closed for the evening or I'm too tired or not bothered to go back out. Furthermore, I'm waiting for the movie's climax.

Thus, the wonder of the Internet! So useful it has been during this pandemic lockdown. Indeed, I'm beginning to wonder how the generation which had to endure the Bubonic Plague in the 13th Century managed to cope? Okay, there may be some bad things online, but it's also an unlimited storehouse of useful knowledge. Trivia which I had missed out at school is now easily accessible with just one or two clicks of the mouse.

And that also includes virtual reality. Yes indeed, I have moaned about our virtual church service over the weeks. But I have always agreed to the principle during these critical times: to be able to worship God and to listen to the preach from the speaker on screen. I certainly can see him as he stares back at me, only that he cannot actually see me, nor, for that matter, can he see anyone else gazing at him, but instead, he looks into a camera and at the same time keeping track on how many are tuned in. But it's the bit after the service is over when chatting rooms come on screen. Here, not only can I literally talk to the person on screen but we can actually see each other as well. It was as if talking through a windowpane.

About nothing worth watching on TV. Here we have two other channels we can rely on. One is the BBC Iplayer, where I can watch the hour-long travel documentaries presented by Simon Reeve which I normally miss on TV, along with other programmes. The other website is YouTube. And one set of videos has recently caught our attention and that is by Prowalk Tours. Unlike most travel presenters, who love to stare into the camera and narrate, this fellow simply walks along, holding his video camera aloft on a pole. This gives the impression that as he walks, it's as if the viewer himself is walking and filming. There is no vocal narration nor any background music. Instead, his footsteps can be heard crunching on the gravel, along with the voices of talking passersby.

One of his videos was about his ascent to the crater of Mt. Vesuvio, with the walk starting and finishing at the car park. It was very enlightening. The modernisation of such a tourist attraction has become well-advanced since my actual visit to the volcano in 1973. Where in my day the footpath leading to the rim was nothing more than a band of light dirt streaking along the barren, ash-laden slope, now there is a proper trail, fenced in on both sides with a trestle of logs and wide enough for up to six people to walk abreast. Where in 1973 I was practically the sole walker, in the video the path was very busy with mostly families walking in both directions.

But then, such a video looks to be almost too perfect. I guess it has to be for public viewing. Not like in my day when nearing the crater, the heavens opened, and the torrential downpour, consisting of marble-sized raindrops, had soaked me in seconds before I spotted a natural alcove in the lava cliff, where I had taken refuge before some kind driver offered me a lift back to Naples. Not to worry. I managed to successfully reach the crater on the next day after another hiking attempt from sea-level.

In reality, such mishaps such as a sudden rainstorm make the adventure so much more exciting! Too bad such don't show on YouTube videos. After all, there are no mountains of real success without valleys of failure in between.

But the near-perfection of video shooting can be appreciated more so if it was shot at a location where I had never set foot. Capri is one such location. Yet as a fledgeling backpacker of the early seventies, after arriving by train into Stazione Napoli Centrale, I couldn't help notice the posters featuring I Faraglioni on display around the terminus. These are natural stacks jutting out from the south coast of the island, and it's one of the main features symbolising the whole of Italy throughout the tourism industry. But back then, I wasn't aware that they were not part of the mainland. Instead, I thought that these stacks were of nearby Sorrento. 

I Faraglioni Stacks, Capri.

After finding a hotel at the Piazza near the station and asking whether there's a room available, I settled in, intending to check out the city itself. But more importantly, I Scavi di Pompeii was a must for my visit, along with a must-see of the crater of Vesuvio. Sorrento can wait until another day. 

And this is how Prowalk Tours had shone quite a light on Capri. As the cameraman walked along through the maze of narrow streets, I began to get acquainted with the island until I began to feel that I have actually visited. However, there are some setbacks. One is looking at those stacks from a height without walking down to the very foot of the stack which nearside is still part of the land. Nor was seen the second stack, out at sea, which had a natural arch through where cruise boats carrying tourists passed under.

I happen to be very fortunate to have travelled in a way I did. I guess I'm one of the fulfilment of Holy Scripture where it says that in the latter days, men shall run to and fro and knowledge shall increase, Daniel 12:4 KJV. The advance of technical sciences along with skyrocketing travel seems to have come as no surprise for the Holy Spirit.

But I was equally intrigued by King David's cry of despair when he expresses his wish to grow wings like a bird so he could fly away to rest and take respite. He actually wrote,

Oh, that I had wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest. (Psalm 55:6.)

If only David knew what the Holy Spirit had already known, some three thousand years before fulfilment! Indeed, we do "have wings like a dove and have flown away to find rest." The tourism industry is fixed on that very purpose - to find rest from the day-to-day stresses of modern living. Of course, David visualised having his own pair of wings resembling that of a bird (or even an angel) yet would have never imagined a metal tube with two huge metal wings and with a capacity to hold more than a hundred passengers. But the Holy Spirit had already known.

And there is another very astonishing prophecy found in the Revelation of St John, and that is of the Two Witnesses of Revelation 11. John records that during their ministry "the beast out of the Abyss" attacks and kills them. Whether this "beast" is the Antichrist himself or his agents, we cannot be sure. The crunch of the matter is that whilst the two bodies lying dead in the streets of Jerusalem, they are observed by the whole world all at once. This would include people living in Australia, North and South America, Africa, all of Europe and Asia, everybody will be able to see the two bodies simultaneously, verses 8-10.

Although many interpreters believe that the two witnesses will be Moses and Elijah, I tend to believe that one of them will be Enoch rather than Moses. In the Old Testament, Enoch and Elijah were the only two men in the whole of history to have been taken to heaven alive, without facing death. Moreover, if the one was Moses, he would have needed to die twice, the first time at Mt Nebo as recorded in Deuteronomy 34. As physical death is the gateway for every believer into the eternal presence of God, both Enoch and Elijah must face death sometime within human history.

For many centuries, commentators were baffled on how could the whole world observe these two lying at a specific location. Then in the 1970s, author Hal Lindsey was sure that this problem was solved by the development of Telstar Television. This was a big leap forward. But with his prediction that the 1980s was the countdown to Armageddon, the turn of the new millennium came and went with no divine intervention, as Lindsey had never thought of the idea of the internet in his time.

As far as we presently know, it does look as if the Internet will be the media used for the observance of these two witnesses by the entire global population. It will be an act of God's grace for, at their resurrection and ascension into Heaven, many in terror will turn in repentance to God, a demonstration of worldwide salvation which by then only modern technology can help bring about.

"If only I had wings like a dove, I'll fly away..."

However, this scenario is based only on what I can see and observe at the present. Nobody knows when the coming of Christ is due, and who knows, there could be even greater wizardry in service before he returns, gadgets that may not be around until after my own passing, and technology I cannot at present imagine. But neither was any of our own technology ever imagined by past generations, let alone by the Romans.

Nor by the ancient Israelites who were camped near Mount Sinai, and were ready to receive the Decalogue. While the Ten Commandments were given out, God knew everything about modern technology which will not arrive until some 3,500 years later.

Just as God has every day of our lives marked and a specific number of them to be lived by every individual, according to Psalm 139, then while we all thread through this pandemic, we can be assured that it was all written down long before the beginning of time, and thus, we can trust him.

And that includes the moment when I stood at the rim of Vesuvio's crater, trusting it would not suddenly erupt.

Dealing With A Difficult Neighbour.

As I write this, both my beloved and I have to endure a noise coming from next door, at number 49.* It's hard to describe this noise accurately, but I can come as close as possible by saying it's a cross between a whine and a hum. The annoying sound can continue for a long time without interruption, before a relieving quiet break lasting anywhere between a couple of minutes to several hours.

Moreover, the noise can have an effect on my wife, being in her present state of health, the noise, which itself isn't very loud, can still generate a penetrating annoyance which leads to a headache. Then her resort to Paracetamol, Ibuprofen, or even Co-Codamol if the pain is unusually severe. I thank God that we have access to these painkillers. Because had this happened only two or three years earlier, her throbbing headache meant an ambulance ride to the nearest Accident & Emergency for blood-pressure tests and even an X-ray scan to ensure there is nothing serious going on, such as internal bleeding or even the possibility of a tumour.

In addition to those tests, she was given intravenous feeds of such drugs until she was well enough to be sent home, normally between four to five hours after admission. And to avoid another such experience, the Consultant ensured that she had access to these medicines at home, prescribed by our own General Practitioner. How wonderful is our National Health Service!

When going through such stresses, it is tempting to bang on the neighbour's front door and to let him know that the noise is driving us up the wall! It's not that the noise was confined to just one or two days. Rather, we had to endure such nuisance for over a week and there's no sign of it ending. Eventually, with my curiosity spilling over the source of such noise, I knocked on his door.

By asking whether his wife still needed the old toys once owned by our daughters, I made the issue of the noise more of a side issue than the main one, hence allowing him to fill me in with the facts without anger. Since the couple runs a school-term childcare business in their own home, the issue of unwanted toys is a good icebreaker, to start a conversation without the need to zero straight in on what's on my mind.

He's that type of working-class Englishman who loves DIY for its own sake, and whenever there is no school, as in this case due to the Coronavirus lockdown, he will always take his tools out of his shed and start work. Most of the time, what he does is well within toleration and any unwanted noise, such as using a handsaw on a piece or a sheet of wood, this can be easily drowned out by playing soft music on the laptop. Ah! Thanks to YouTube, despite those annoying ads slotted in between videos.

And it was only yesterday when a card dropped through our door. It was from the neighbour from #45, the house on the other side of ours. They had just moved out. On the card was written a thank you for being such a patient and a considerate neighbour. They thanked us for our patience with them when they played their loud and deep-sounding music centre which can be heard across several back yards. They also thanked us for our patience with them when their lively children often kicked their football and even their other toys into our garden when they fought among themselves. Either Alex or I tossed the items back into their garden without a fuss. And I will never forget the little girl say with some hesitation, "Thank you" and my response of, "it's a pleasure" in a reassuring tone.

I have always got on well with the family at #45. He was a black African married to a white Englishwoman. When their third child was born, a daughter, she had the pleasure to show the newborn to me, and I wished them all well.

That is until one day when their son's football flew over the high fence and landed in our garden, I gently tossed it back over. Suddenly there was this angry, vehement torrent pouring out at me. But it wasn't spewed out by the African. Instead, I was told off by the wife's brother who had called in to visit. It was he who upbraided me for letting the returned ball fall on their coffee table, on the other side of the high fence.

Sometimes I just can't win.

These set of events has made me think back to my domestic window cleaning business. Throughout the years I received hospitality from a few of my customers. Let's for argument's sake, at any one month I had a hundred clients (actually I had more than that, but to illustrate, this will do.) Of the one hundred, ten of them offered me a coffee. Also, five of the one hundred were from an ethnic minority. Of these, two of them offered me coffee. With a bit of number crunching, of all my clientele, 10% of them were generous. But the percentage of those of an ethnic minority, a staggering 40% of all non-white customers were generous, compared to the actual 8.4% of hospitable Caucasians.

Going back to my next-door neighbour at #49. My main reason for knocking at his door was to find out how long this noise is to continue. But I had to make the main point a side issue. If I hadn't, he could have answered with a frown. Instead, I was told with a level of apology that since there is more gloss paint to be stripped off, he needs to use that machine for "a couple more days". Well, so far, it was longer than that.

Never mind that old paint can be stripped off using a brush and Nitromors paint stripper. Or better still, to rub-down with wet-and-dry the old interior paintwork to a smooth, matt surface then repaint. A job I know can be done in one or two days without all that noise, effort and the use of power, taking up to two weeks to complete, as well as bringing unnecessary stress on the neighbours. 

But my fear of making enemies of my neighbours stem from past experiences, especially from working-class men. On one occasion, I was passing by when this customer up on a ladder looked to be in distress. He called me over. When I asked what was troubling him, he pointed to a bolt which held the old TV aerial in place, and he was trying to turn the bolt to remove the aerial, and he felt ill-at-ease up on the ladder. He gave me the wrench and with it, I turned the bolt with apparent ease. On the following month, when I approached to clean his windows, in no uncertain terms he angrily told me to take a hike and never come back.

Or at another time and place when I left my own ladders overnight concealed in a narrow alley near the back gate of this volatile fellow's garden. As I lowered them into place, it was the clanging of the metal against concrete which set his dog barking. He came to the gate and angrily challenged me for leaving my ladders on his property, causing all the dogs in the street to bark, along with a threat that if he saw the ladders there again, he would take them and throw them across the street and ensuring maximum damage to them. I replied that the ladders were not on his property but outside, they were concealed from view and their presence cannot cause the dogs to bark once I'm gone. I then thought better, picked up the ladders and carried them away, despite that it was that time in my life, nearing retirement when carrying such heavy equipment around became more tiring.

Then there was the time, more than fifteen years ago, when a loud birthday party in the apartment above ours was threatening to wake up our baby daughter at two in the morning. So for the second time, I knocked on their door with a request to tone the music down. A young blonde woman whose birthday it was, arrogant and partially intoxicated, answered and rudely told me to beat it. I answered back. Immediately a group of men whom I knew to be England football fans shot out of the door to beat me up, but I ran into my own apartment and closed the door. The angry mob, all partially drunk but all were aware of what they were doing, tried to beat the door down but the lock held well before retreating back upstairs, leaving a strange silence through which my daughter slept peacefully without waking up.

In point to note: If it looks as if I had a very turbulent life, then the reader must consider that all these events occurred over 35 years when I was self-employed. This means there were long periods in between when I enjoyed peace.

But as the whine from next door continued, Alex asked me to turn the music on, which was very helpful for both of us. Then as I pondered:

Why do many English working-class men have such volatile temperaments?

That, according to my experience, I once put to a good friend of mine, a fellow Christian who graduated at Loughborough University and held a successful career in computer programming. He agreed with me that a working-class man is subject to physical violence at a level greater than the middle-classes, and suggested that he has a greater need to reassert himself. Then today I was asking myself:

Instead of feeling angry, anxious or frustrated, how can I love this guy in the same way God loves me?

That is where I need the infilling of the Holy Spirit. For only he can work out within us the situation as a means to strengthen our faith and to enable us to persevere. And in this area, I'm not totally without experience, having learned from my previous mistakes.

I have discovered, especially with the family living on the opposite side, not to knock on their door when their music centre is playing loudly, which is usually during the day rather than in the evenings. Instead, I turn off my own music, whether from the HI-FI or from the laptop, and allow their music to entertain us. It's free and I don't have to contribute towards their energy bills!

When one of their children throws or kicks a ball over the fence, all I need to do is to gently toss it back over. No reprimanding. Rather, no matter how many times the ball may land in our garden, just toss it back without any ado. If I hear a "thank you" - then I should regard this as a bonus and not out of expectation.

The same applies to the neighbour living on the other side. Knocking on his door whilst busy at work would only aggravate the situation and could make an enemy out of him. Instead, if my curiosity throughout his project needs to be met, as already happened, to greet the fellow and to turn the main issue into a side issue seem to have brought more positive results.

Often I see him standing in his front yard smoking when I enter or leave our house. I found that greeting him a good day with a smile goes a long way, even if we don't have much in common. On one occasion, after Alex called the ambulance at my absence, the crew had to call the firemen to let the ambulance crew into the house. The door was repaired shortly afterwards while I was still out. When my DIY-loving neighbour saw everything that happened, he afterwards approached me with an offer to keep one of our spare keys. After agreeing with Alex, I allowed them to keep our back door key for the sole purpose of letting the ambulance crew into the house if I'm out. This building of trust will go well towards having a good relationship.

Then there is something which I consider to be the most difficult part - praying for them! This is due to experience challenging my faith that the adult working-class Briton is nigh impossible to bring to Christ for salvation. The sauna is one good example of where this attitude is found. I once asked a bulky, hard-boiled builder what he thought of Jesus Christ whilst alone with him inside the sauna cabin. He burst into a rage and told me how the Catholic Church, in which he grew up, had been a letdown. Another bather, at a different time and place, avoided my question by bringing up something altogether different, then walking out of the sauna. Yet, throughout my Christian life, I had never shied away from insisting that this Jesus of Nazareth is the risen Christ, especially in the workplace.

Now the African neighbour and his family have moved out. I have no idea where they now live. All I have from them is a card thanking me for being patient with them and showing consideration. Now the house stands empty, one in a line of suburban terraced homes which is very common here in the UK. Who will move in?

It is my hope that the new occupants will not be the typical English under-thirties couple, bringing into their lounge massive HI-FI speakers, each the size of a small cupboard, and having the habit of all-night parties. And hostile towards anyone who raises any issues with them.

Yes, with those sort of people I have had my fingers burnt already. 

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*For privacy, the addresses are changed.

Lock-down Delusion?

He was homeless. And lonely. Very lonely, in fact. Furthermore, he felt that he was afraid of being mugged, even stabbed. Therefore, unable to sleep, he kept himself on the move, wandering from one place to another, constantly glancing behind to see whether he was followed.

He was also very hungry and thirsty. Eventually, he gives up. He lays down on the ground, feeling very suicidal. "To hell with life," he thought. "Let someone come and kill me. Or maybe, if I were to fall asleep here, I may not wake up again. I don't care anymore. I had enough!"

That was around 842 BC.

Elijah journeyed through the desert for forty days, or just short of six weeks. Yet he was supernaturally supplied with the appropriate food and drink, more than once. Yet despite such care taken of his welfare, he maintained a twisted cord of emotions: Loneliness, along with fear, and anger has driven this fellow to a remote mountain where he met God, and after throwing out a plethora of complaints, protesting that he is the only faithful one left throughout the whole of Israel, God eventually got around to saying that he has reserved for himself seven thousand men who had not bowed the knee to Baal (1Kings 19.)

Maybe such a revelation might have been encouraging for him. Then again, he might have also thought to himself: If there were seven thousand godly men in Israel alone, apart from any in Judah, then why has none of them made any effort to come and offer me food, drink and shelter, hidden and protected from my enemies?

I think that having such thoughts would be perfectly human. For throughout the forty-day journey, he was running away from Queen Jezebel, the dominant wife of King Ahab and who also wore the trousers. He was fleeing from her after performing a spectacular showdown against 450 prophets of Baal, Jezebel's idol, and not only putting them to shame but having them all executed.

Were these 7,000 godly men converts of Elijah's spectacular showdown? Probably not, for the Scripture indicates that they had already chosen to stay faithful to Yahweh, the true God of Israel since childhood, having never bowed their knee to Baal throughout their lives. Those who witnessed the contest between Yahweh and Baal might have been impressed with Elijah's spectacular victory, but for some, it doesn't necessarily depict true and lasting conversion. Left unconverted, the temptation to return to Baal worship becomes irresistible.

So there he was, feeling lonely, and suicidal. And this also makes me wonder how many were tempted to feel that way during this present Coronavirus lockdown? At least there were some parts of it which seems beneficial. Emptier roads for starters, resulting in cleaner air and a slowdown of climate change. Office employees working from home instead of the daily commute, whether by private or public transport. Still others on furlough, remaining employed by the business which was forced to close for the duration of the pandemic, resulting in a long paid "holiday" for its workers.

By the grace of God, I didn't find this lockdown financially difficult, due to being on State pension. Fortunately, I was not under compulsion to stay at home, as was the case, I believe, in Spain and Italy. Instead, I was still free to go out and exercise once a day, either walking or cycling. 

With both swimming and the gym locked away, so to speak, with walking, I have enjoyed the wonderful privilege of admiring Rhododendron bushes in full bloom, the magenta flowers glowing in the Spring sunshine. Funny, really. These species were originally imported from China and has established themselves well here. Yet there are many gardeners, environmentalists and perhaps horticulturalists who have taken a dislike to this bush, seeing it as a foreign invasion, and there was even a faceless bureaucrat sitting at the Council office of Bracknell Forest who had sent out an order to have much of the Rhododendron at the back of one street destroyed, thus removing the sound barrier between the busy traffic and the homes of many residents and leaving an ugly scar on the landscape. 

Rhododendron in full bloom near my home, taken May 2020.

Cycling is another form of exercise taken during the lockdown. These days it takes more of an effort to ride a bike long-distance, as a couple of other cyclists overtook me by quite a wide speed margin. Perhaps my age and state of health combined with the solar heat taking it out on me, yet there is that lovely feeling of accomplishment as I rode to Dinton Pastures, a country park some nine miles away from home, with its beautiful Black Swan Lake, dotted with forested islands and surrounded by a bridleway cutting through a forested environment lining both sides, thus combining the day out with both cycling and walking.

But there is the detrimental side to the lockdown, and that's how much I miss the church! At Ascot Life Church, along with all other churches in the UK, we now have "virtual services". This means that instead of being in the physical company among brothers and sisters in Christ, there is this figure speaking from the screen of my laptop. Although I can see him and hear him, all he is doing is looking into and speaking to a camera. He has no idea who is in the audience, and each member of the audience have no idea who else is watching - unless comments are posted, which scrolls up alongside the picture. But even then, we as an audience or congregation can't intercommunicate with each other.

As such, a virtual service is a very poor substitute for the real thing. There is no sense of love, no fellowship, no intimacy, no hugging, no greeting, no private news shared personally between members, and most importantly, no coffee & doughnuts! But at least the preach comes over well, and this has caused me to wonder whether the High Speed 2 railway project is already obsolete even before the very first track length is laid, as the purpose of the project is to whisk executives to their conferences as quick as possible. Has the use of computers made this HS2 a white elephant for the national economy? After all, we now have this Zoom app, which delivers pseudo-fellowship communication among partakers.

This also means that no one in my church can meet up over coffee. This used to be a favourite activity, for someone in the church, especially one of the Elders, to meet up at Starbucks. Here, we can advise each other, as I can give advice as well as receive it. Such meetings were very useful during times of crisis, like at the present when my beloved develops a toothache, just as the lockdown has closed every dental surgery in town. Like this, moral and spiritual support is compromised, as the telephone or Zoom could never replace the person-to-person counsel and intimacy which arises from it. Hence the lockdown has given me a sense of isolation, the feeling of remoteness, which even surrounded by talking pictures, fail to meet what Jesus Christ had in mind when he established His Body here on earth.

And this "social distancing." That means when I approach an oncoming pedestrian whilst on the footpath, we both alter our courses to ensure neither of us passes within two metres of each other, although to compensate, we often greet each other with a "hi" or even with the thumb up. It's as if every person not with the household is some kind of abomination. Go too near and you will die. 

And the economy under dire threat. According to the Press, this national lockdown is the end result of advice delivered to our Government by one bureaucrat, Neil Ferguson of Imperial College, who warned that the UK death rate of 250,000 or more could occur unless the Government imposed a total lockdown. The likelihood of this being true scientific modelling by Imperial College is questioned by the previous modelling of the BSE crisis of 2002 as standing with an estimated 150,000 deaths in Britain. The actual number of deaths from CMJ, a related disease in humans, stood at less than 200 overall.*

It's from such sources such as the Imperial College where our ministers had taken fright and have put our national economy into a coma, from which it may not fully recover. Therefore it's meant to be this weekend when our Prime Minister will begin his "slow, steady lifting" of the lockdown. This includes some gardening centres re-opening, allowing picnics in parks, exercising outdoors more than once a day, and a bubble of family members and friends of no more than ten persons are allowed to come together. 

But there be no church meetings, no pubs, no coffee bars or restaurants, no leisure centres, and social distancing still enforced. As Dr John Lee has written, Boris Johnson lacks the courage to kick-start the economy to its pre-pandemic level, lest a second, more severe wave of infection was to occur. Also, according to this doctor who is an expert in pathogenicity, believes that if the virus were to infect more people, (with the vast majority suffering only minor symptoms) it would have to mutate to a less harmful form to preserve itself. Therefore he suggests that younger people should return to work and to live normal lives whilst at the same time the elderly and the vulnerable should be given adequate protection. 

Our PM lacking courage? That's not the same man who promised a golden age of national prosperity for all of us after leaving the EU, is he?

My good friend, PhD holder and geneticist Andrew Milnthorpe have always been sceptical about the lockdown, and he said to me that such action was way over the top. At first, I was taken back by what he had said, surprised at his apparent apathy for the spread of the virus. But since then, two journalists had both written that this national lockdown was a farce and the average Briton should not tremble with fear over the daily reporting of the number of deaths. One of these writers was Dr John Lee, who wrote in the Saturday Essay page of the Daily Mail. The other writer was Peter Hitchens. As the Bible says, when two or three agree, then the evidence is more likely to be factual.

Black Swan Lake, Dinton Pastures. Stock photo.

Maybe this lockdown had just one other benefit. It might have caused more people to think about God. I have heard a report that more people have gotten into prayer as a result of this pandemic. If this was such a good opportunity for the Gospel to be heralded, this is it. If churches such as Ascot Life Church, the Kerith Community Church, and other churches advertise their virtual service on to social websites, chances that more people may tune in, for it's much easier to go online at home than it is to bother driving to the church building full of strangers.

Despite all it's setbacks, God can work through the lockdown, as nothing is impossible with God.

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*Dr John Lee, Daily Mail Newspaper, Saturday, May 9, 2020.

A Cure for Low Self-Esteem.

If you are a Christian believer reading this, then may I ask:

How would you feel if I admit to watching two naked lovers having sex on the BBC Iplayer?

Would you gasp in surprise? Or start praying desperately that I have not hit the road to apostasy? Or even click off this page and log on to another website if not slamming the lid of your laptop shut?

But please read on, the "how to..." will follow.

It is here that I want to make a point which I feel is very important, and therefore I don't want to put out a wrong message. As a Christian myself, I do not want to encourage anyone to watch porn, whether it's on the screen or on magazine paper. For many, indulging in porn to stimulate desire is sinful, and as such, I would not encourage it, neither would I play down the seriousness of sin.

Having said that, such close-ups don't bother me. I don't get sexually excited or stimulated by such scenes. Therefore, it was no different to me than if I watched an edition of Songs of Praise on a typical Sunday evening. After all, as a married man, both my wife and I can enjoy such naked intimacy whenever we want to, without a camera fixed upon our torsos and without a bloke behind the camera, operating it - and without the slightest guilt of sin. 

As a matter of fact, it was in 1994, whilst staying at a mixed dorm of a small backpacker's hostel in the heart of Jerusalem Old City during its peak season, that was when the dorm was crammed with young couples, predominantly from Scandinavia, Holland and perhaps Denmark, sleeping in each other's arms on mattresses laid out on the floor, whispering to each other loving endearments just as little as a few feet away.

Alone on a narrow single bunk bed, I slept well each night under the domed Medieval ceiling without any problems. Really, I couldn't give a toss about who was around me. I was far more interested in the Holy Land with its many archaeological sites, its ancestry, its Middle East culture, physical beauty and its links with Biblical history than I was in what was going on between the couples around me.

But I digress. The intimate scenes were not the reason why I wanted to watch the adult drama, Normal People, a twelve-part series with its first episode aired only earlier this week. Rather it was to watch the lives of two schoolmates, Connell Waldron (Paul Mescal) and Marianne Sheridan (Daisy Edger-Jones) - he from a working-class background and she from a middle-class one. Both lived with their single mothers who were both divorced. Furthermore, Connell's mother worked as a cleaner at the posh home of Marianne's mother who also has an older son, Alan Sheridan (Frank Blake) - Marianne's brother.

Normal People characters Connell and Marianne

What led me to watch the whole series over four evenings this week was the first episode, and I was keen to watch the climax, how the story ends. Connell was a popular boy, a hero among his mates. Not only was he getting ready for university life, but this very intelligent, bright youth was also brilliant on the school football pitch. Topless for a moment, he made sure that we saw his superb physique on the pitch after taking off his shirt after the game ended. He, with his teammates, played Gaelic Football against a rival school vying for the championship league cup. Having scored two or more winning goals, he was the hero of his team and of the whole school. Meanwhile, Marrianne was one of the many spectators, dressed in a drab grey uniform, sitting at the grandstand. 

In contrast to Connell, Marianne was unpopular at school. She was teased both by the boys and other girls alike for having a "stuck-up" attitude which included disrespect for the teacher's authority. Yet, like Connell, she too was very bright, something which earned the jealous wrath of her brother Alan.

This "Plain Jane" image of a timid, immature schoolgirl who feels worthless and neglected was not the first I have watched on TV. Around 34-31 years ago a family-viewing Australian soap, Neighbours, featured this new arrival who took on residence with her grandmother's after the death of either one or both parents. Feeling ashamed of herself, she kept herself to herself. It was not until after she left school for uni, and shed her uniform when her ravishing beauty and her extroversion came out, and it wasn't long before she had a boyfriend and enjoyed popularity with her peers.

The same happened with Marianne. When she started at Trinity College at Dublin, a 130-mile drive from her home town in Sligo County of the Republic of Ireland, her beauty shone and she gained instant popularity with her fellow students, and with Connell also attending the same college, a rather bumpy relationship developed between the two of them.

But it's Connell I really want to focus on here. Very bright, athletic and good looking, this guy knew how to socialise with his fellow students. He was a good contributor to his committee and he was very popular with female students as well as male. Literally, girls were queuing up to share his bed. Furthermore, even at a young age, he knew how to handle responsibility and look after himself in such a mature manner, so far away from home and without his Mum's interference. In addition to all this, he was studying for a degree in English, with the goal as a writer, whether as a novelist or journalist, I couldn't be too sure, but there was a hint of a novelist. Writing for a living was something I always had a wish for.

Jane Harris (Annie Jones) in Neighbours, 1984 onwards.

Connell's life as an undergraduate was a world away from my own experience in growing up. I was unpopular at school, in the slow learner's class, and feeling of little worth. And this feeling of worthlessness was enforced at home, at school and later, at work when having to push a broom across the workshop floor, I was teased and constantly reminded of my worthlessness. The psychological damage gotten from this lifelong experience, caused by having Asperger's Syndrome which was unknown to me at the time, wasn't fully eliminated until I married Alex decades later.

As such, had I watched this drama around 35-40 years ago, I would have turned off the TV the moment Marianne begged Connell to take off his clothes whilst both were still at school. But such an action would not be due to Christian convictions or piety! Instead, I would have turned off the telly through envy.

Like Jane in Neighbours and Marianne in Normal People, I too began to change for the better after leaving school. But it took a lot longer. During my first five years of employment in an all-male environment, its culture was centred upon the idea of picking up a girlfriend and enticing her to share his bed was the ultimate fulfilment of masculine virility. This attracts respect, even admiration. Thus, it came as no surprise that my supervisor often boasted of his army days when enticing women to share his bed was as easy as ABC, thus rubbing it in that having no girlfriend made me feel even more of a failure.

Indeed, as a result of this culture, I felt ashamed of being single. Whilst still living at home, the one thing I wanted to do, above all other things, was to marry and raise a family.

Had I watched such a drama as Normal People back then, would it have resulted in a very harmful mental outlook and shaky emotions? But here I would like how such a psychological state can be overcome, even to the point of immunity when surrounded by courting couples in a hostel dormitory. Even the title of the drama would have rubbed salt into the wound. Normal People? So that's how all undergraduates live and interact with others, isn't it? And that's normal? If so, doesn't that indicate that I'm not normal, but way below?

So what were the steps to free me from such psychological bondage?

First, faith in Jesus Christ as Saviour. This I believe to be the very foundation and first step towards freedom. This includes learning to pray, regular reading of the Bible and church attendance. I turned to Jesus Christ in December 1972, less than five years after leaving school. To develop a loving Father/son relationship with God is vital for any psychological healing.

Secondly, I found hobbies which delight me. They were several wholesome activities. I would go further to say that it was triune of interesting activities - Travel, Photography and Writing, and these three are interrelating. Various sports I have found enjoyable. And here I mean enjoyable. At school, I had to participate in team sports such as soccer and rugby, which was under compulsion. I have watched other boys receive corporal punishment for forgetting to bring their kit on the day. But Triathlon was one individual competitive sport I enjoyed participating in the years 1985-1992, which was purely voluntary.

Flying the nest was another brick in the building towards freedom from low self-esteem. Learning how to be responsible for making my own decisions and how to manage my own finances, and feeling free to go out for the evening without answering to Mum's question of Where have you been, is another liberating benefit, as well as constantly criticised by Dad over my faith in Christ. I moved into my bachelor's pad in May 1976, at a grand old age of 23 years. The saying of absence makes the heart grow fonder is indeed true here. By living alone, after a while, I began to feel a greater level of affection towards my parents.

This is a threefold building or bulwark against the feeling of worthlessness and low self-esteem. And that as a single person. I feel that participation in such interesting and wholesome activities is just as vital as faith in Christ itself. When I first believed, not only have I gained a friend in Jesus Christ, but I have also gained an enemy, an Adversary who will always remind me of my worthlessness and sins, making me feel that I'm no good for God. These bulwarks help guard against such lies.

Then there is my job. Going self-employed in 1980 was another brick in the wall against low self-esteem, as this involves responsibility which was once taken care of by my employer. But even then, my mistake of comparing my social standing with other Christians of my age bracket in the church, just about all graduates, has caused a relapse into a sense of worthlessness. Especially when I struggled with finances as one self-employed and therefore unable to travel. This was worse during the 1980s.

An "explosion" of travel occurred after receiving a vision from God on October 1992 to fly to Israel on the following year specifically to pray for Jerusalem. By August 1993, I found myself entering a small medieval building in the heart of the Old City of Jerusalem and climbed the stairs to the reception upstairs to ask whether a bed was available. Thus, the New Swedish Hostel on Souk David was going to mean a lot to me, especially afterwards in 1994, where I'm due to spend a whole month there as a resident.

New Swedish Hostel opened onto this street.

By then, since after eighteen years after flying the nest, I have grown immune to the want of marriage and I began to feel content for being single. This was justified, as a door has opened for worldwide travel. Combine this with my love of photography and later, writing, with each of the three well soaked in God's love and my faith in Him and an efficient bulwark against low self-esteem has been established within.

It was at the height of World Travel era in 1998 when Alex came along. 1998 was the year I flew out to New York for a short stop-gap break before planning to fly out to Cape Town in the year 2000 for another Round the World trip. But just when I was no longer looking for marriage, and I was content to remain a bachelor for life (as some of my friends still are to this day, most of them graduates) - instead, marriage found me, and Alex and I tied the knot in October 1999.

I am aware that any single person, man or woman, suffering loneliness may find this difficult to read and I apologise for that, but if If I'm likening the bulwark against low self-esteem as a building, then marriage is the final paintwork, or if likened to a cake, it's the cherry on the top.

Although I might get a wave of feeling worthless from time to time, my life's testimony, inspired by watching an adult play on television late in the evening after Alex had gone to bed is, I hope, a demonstration of God's power to everyone who believes.