A Walk In The Woods...

It was just a normal morning when I browse my Facebook wall when a piece of memorabilia scrolls onto the screen. It was a photo taken from one of my online albums, World Backpacking 1 - on public view online. It's a small selection of film-based photos taken from the main physical album, titled, 1997 Travel Triathlon.

The album consists of four volumes covering Singapore, the Australian Pacific coast, and Southern California. Between them, there are 560 photos altogether, 140 pics in each volume. And those are the better quality pictures. There are more of them, rejects, often consisting of "sister photos" that is, two or more identical ones, out-of-focus snapshots or those of bad shading. They are all kept in safe storage elsewhere. In all, within the ten-week Round-the-World trip, I might have taken up to 600 photographs. The Facebook album has only 62 of the best pictures of the Australian coastline, including several taken underwater at the Great Barrier Reef.

At Low Isles, GBR, taken in 1997.

When the single underwater photo appeared unexpectedly on the laptop screen, my emotions rose, and I was consumed by a deep feeling of nostalgia. Linked to this feeling of nostalgia was my awareness of God's goodness in allowing me to see his creation firsthand, and furthermore, the availability of a cheap, single-use submersible camera which, back in 1997, was purchased for just AU$10 at a kiosk onboard the Cairns-Port Douglas catamaran.

At the same time, I was invited by a long-standing church friend of forty years, who is now in his seventies. He asked me if I would like to accompany him for a walk in the pine forest, just across the main road from where I live. During our walk, I would say, for the better part of an hour, our talk included our world travel tales.

He travelled further than I did, as his story included a working trip to South Africa and entry into New Zealand, the one pair of islands I couldn't reach on my 1997 RTW trip due to both insufficient funds and the shortage of time. His visit to Australia took in Perth, on the West Coast, Sydney, on the Pacific Coast, and the Great Barrier Reef of Queensland's glory. However, unlike me who travelled alone, his trip to Australia was with his wife to meet with one of his family members who, I believe, lives there permanently.

Like me, he too swam or snorkelled at the Reef, although at a different site from where I snorkelled. He wore a full wetsuit during his dive, as he admitted his awareness of the presence of "stingers." I knew that he was referring to the lethal and dreaded Box Jellyfish or Sea Wasp.

When I visited the Reef in 1997, it was in the weeks between late May and June, their "winter" - although the weather was certainly hot and dry. The Sea Wasp is, fortunately, a short-lived seasonal marine creature, spawning in November and dying around April, that is, during their summer. Therefore, unlike my friend who had to wear a full-body wetsuit, I was able to snorkel in just shorts and a shirt, the latter to lessen the chance of sunburn on my back as I checked out the corals directly beneath. The fact that I already knew of the stinger's demise was due to a study I made at a Cairns backpacker's hostel, where I was staying before moving on, before boarding the catamaran.

Although picture postcards of the Great Barrier Reef, along with books, magazines and television documentaries, always showing the submerged biosystem in bright colours and in crystal-clear waters, giving the impression of an underwater paradise. However, when I was there, the water was always slightly cloudy, hence my own photography doesn't quite match those from the pro's camera. And it was anything but an underwater paradise! At night, any coral polyps too close to their neighbour tend to fight over territory rights. Also at night, sharks can locate small fish hiding in rock crevices and pry them out. Other fish guard their territories whilst some preditors swarm the reef, looking for a meal. Other potential prey stays on constant guard or has developed incredible body defences. Meanwhile, the majority of both fertilized coral and fish eggs floating in the currents, along with their hatchlings, will eventually be eaten.

I have wondered what a coral reef might have looked like under a primaeval ocean surface before the Fall, assuming that, like all life on the planet, such a biosystem was created "with the appearance of age" - very much like Adam and Eve were, who looked to be in their mid-twenties or even in their early thirties to the observer, when in reality, they were only a few days old. Such a reef must have been a beautiful paradise, an incredible delight to the eye.

And for other natural beauty that I had seen with my own eyes, such powers of nature such as the trail winding through the rainforest - with its spectacular waterfalls- of the Blue Mountains National Park near Sydney, the sleeping crater of Mt Vesuvio, the active crater of Mt Etna, the thundering Niagara Falls, the Colorado River flowing through the majestic Grand Canyon, the Mangroves thriving in saltwater, a beautiful array of Traveller's Palms sprouting fan-like leaves, a mountain stream flowing from the Alps, the terrific display of stars with the Milky Way streaking across a clear tropical night sky...

 

Aso here in the United Kindom, I have always been enthralled at the Jurassic Coast Path, together with the mountainous landscapes of the Lake District National Park, and in Scotland, Loch Ness, and further north, the dramatic beauty of the vertical cliff walls of the narrow canyons, along with the sandstone stacks of Duncansby Head, all within easy reach of John O'Groats.

The lethal Box Jellyfish or Sea Wasp.

Indeed, it's through the mercy of God that after the Edenic Curse, God retained much of the natural beauty we see around us, allowing us to glorify our Creator and to thank Him for his goodness and mercy. Furthermore, I can't help but give thanks to my Redeemer for allowing me the pleasures of travel and the opportunities to see all these locations first-hand. Indeed, such was the privilege!

As such, that one Facebook picture opened wonderful memories.

While my friend and I carried on talking, it became apparent just where our focuses lay. He was more into political, cultural and current affairs both at home and overseas. He was also into the business world, as in his heyday, he ran two private enterprises. One was an agency to help young graduates find the right start in their professional careers. At the same time, he also opened The Good Book Shop, a retail outlet in the town centre specialising in Bibles and other Christian literature. 

By contrast, I am more into natural beauty and dynamism.

He was sharing with me his experience of life in apartheid South Africa before the days of Nelson Mandela and his ilk. The severance between white and non-white was so serious, that even the public conveniences had both exclusively white and non-white use, with separate entrances and rooms. He even described a footbridge crossing over a railway track. The bridge, so he tells me, had a dividing fence running along the middle. One lane was for the whites, the other for blacks.

 

The conversation had revealed such a beautiful world spoilt by the entry of sin, and the Curse, which not only turned vegetarians in the animal kingdom into carnivores but also brought in hate and division into human society, the division between races which not only blighted the history of the Deep South of the New World with negro slavery but also resulted in Apartheid in South Africa - a shocking spectacle which my friend saw and experienced first hand.

And the worst thing was - that both groups believed that both slavery and social segregation were ordained by God. Indeed, the atonement made by Jesus Christ on the cross was robbed of all its potential. For the Cross not only had slain the old man but had reconciled the new man to God and to each other, so Paul was able to write:

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for you are all one in Christ Jesus. Galatians 3:28.

Therefore, when my friend testified about an all-white church youth group excluding all coloured people. This came as a shocking surprise to hear about. This is what I don't understand: How could a church - any church - profess to acknowledge the truth of the Bible and yet exclude by force anyone whose skin colour isn't approved?

As I read in an article in yesterday's Daily Mail online, Janet Street-Porter writes that the joys of travel seemed to have vanished with this Covid pandemic. She believes that the old bulldog spirit had evaporated and the nation had turned cowardly, with most of us too scared to leave our homes.

No other article had received such a huge number of hostile comments in the forum beneath it!

Perhaps they were all correct in their hostility. If I had my way, I'll be heading for the airport tomorrow. But as one married to my beloved who is partially disabled and in need of a wheelchair - plus - the rules for wearing masks, the need to take a Covid test, maybe more than one test, the need to quarantine at a hotel, long, stationary queues at border control - NO THANK YOU! Yes, the joys of travel have evaporated - but this, to me, didn't start with the pandemic.

It began nearly twenty years earlier.

In 2001, actually. In this case, Tuesday, September 11th. It's better known as the 9/11 attack. I remember that day. Alex and our baby daughter were at home. I was out on my job cleaning windows. Then my attention was turned to the customer whose windows I was cleaning. I watched on the news the World Trade Center in New York City - the roof of one of its towers that I stood upon in 1978, admiring the panorama of the city with the Empire State Building at the opposite end - was going up in a black column of smoke. The tower then went down in a mountainous pile of smoke, dust and rubble. The very building I stood on almost exactly 23 years earlier! 

The 9/11 Disaster.

It's my belief that it was this which changed the joys of travel forever. For example, before 9/11, I was able to head for the airport, check-in, board the 'plane and fly across the Atlantic whenever I felt inclined, thanks to the Visa Waiver Scheme agreed by our PM Margaret Thatcher and then-President Ronald Reagan. Travelling to the States was as easy as taking a ferry to France, and I took full advantage. But now, if I want to fly to the USA, I would need to get an ESTA document (Electronic System for Travel Authorisation) something not much different from the old tourist visa of the 1970's nightmare of vigorous form-filling and bureaucracy.

Maybe, you can ask yourself: Supposing you were at the departure gate, waiting to board your flight. You look around among all the other passengers who will be on your 'plane. You then spot two Arabic-looking young men with their hoods up, whispering to each other. They too will be on your flight. How would you feel? Nothing more than a passing coincidence? Or would you feel your hair stand on end in terror? Would you stay quiet? Or would you inform the flight attendant that you don't feel at all comfortable sharing your flight with these men?

Yes, I think I know what I would do. Inform the flight assistant to have these men removed. If not, then for them to go through a thorough security check. And that includes stripping down to a thorough body search. And have their luggage in the hold checked, if not removed entirely.

Indeed, the joys of travel had changed. But not by the pandemic. 

Yet, I thank the Lord for allowing me the wonderful privilege to travel when the times were good. Now, I can sit back and enjoy virtual travel on YouTube, having experienced the reality of the real thing.

When Sparks Fly...

Earlier today, as I watched the funeral of the Duke of Edinburgh on television with my wife, I felt a lump in my throat as we watched the Queen sitting all alone at her seat inside St. George's Chapel within the walls of Windsor Castle. I, too, was almost about to cry as we watched her sitting all alone, mourning for her beloved husband. Almost her entire face was obscured by the brim of her black hat and also the black face mask she was wearing. To me, for her to wear a mask while sitting alone, away from all her family members, seemed so unnecessary, especially when she is already fully vaccinated and the interior of the chapel happens to be very large and spacious. However, not far away sat her two married grandsons: Prince William, the Duke of Cambridge and his younger sibling, Prince Harry, the Duke of Sussex.

Sometimes I wish I was in Prince Harry's shoes. No, not because of his title of Duke, neither because of his wealth and not because of his fame and social standing either. But rather, had it been me who flew back to the UK from California to attend my Grandad's funeral, the first thing that would cross my mind would be to ask to be brought to my older brother, Prince William, who is second in line to the throne. 

The Duke of Edinburgh's Coffin.

If he consents, I would then run into his arms and allow my tears to wet the shirt covering his shoulder. I would plead for forgiveness and full reconciliation, as both of us had emerged from the one and the same womb. The ball would then be entirely in my brother's court. Would he accept my plea of repentance? Or would he push me away so hard that I actually stumble backwards across the room? 

I felt a sense of sombre while I watched on TV both brothers walking behind the coffin. But unlike at their mother's funeral back in 1997, this time, these two brothers weren't walking next to each other. Instead, their cousin, Peter Phillips, was walking between them, as if acting like a human barrier, just in case these two brothers were to suddenly pounce on each other. 

Come on! As if such an incident would have ever happened. Not at Prince Philip's funeral.

Here, I try to look inside the Duke of Sussex's head while he's under quarantine, a tongue-in-cheek attempt to analyse his train of thinking. 

                                                                   **********

"What rotten luck it was to have someone beat me to the throne even before I was born. From conception onwards, I will always play second fiddle to my older brother William. It's like having a carrot held in front of two moving donkeys, but no matter how fast I can run, I'll never get to eat the carrot. The other beast is head and neck ahead and the gap between its mouth and the carrot is getting narrower, albeit slowly.

"Being initially third in line to the throne still sounds pretty good. I have already jumped in front of my two uncles, Princes Andrew and Edward. But trust my brother to marry Catherine - or Waity Katy, as that Daily Mail columnist, Amanda Platell, used to call her. How Platell loved to show some contempt at the future Duchess' apparent idleness before she married William. Then later, as soon as a baby is born to them, it would take my place as third in line, pushing me back to fourth.  

"Then how could I forget 2003? That was the year I finished my studies at Eton. A real posh school. Fit for a prince. But that doesn't really solve anything. My older brother also attended Eton. Our Dad Charles should have sent him up north to Gordonstoun. Perhaps the school would have made more of a man out of him. After all, Dad attended, but he was so miserable there, so I was told. Maybe that was why both of us attended Eton instead. 

"Then my gap year and that awful trip Down Under! While there might have been other British tourists visiting real attractions such as the Great Barrier Reef, instead, I had to work as a cattle rancher. Or a cowboy as they called him. Cowboy? Nah! Here in the UK, a cowboy is a dodgy builder - or any swindler who charges an exorbitant price for delivering shoddy work or even no work at all. No! I'm not a cowboy, and I don't want anyone to call me that. I'm a prince, for heaven's sake, even if I have to spend the whole of my life under the shadow of my brother.

"Coming to think of it, this is the funeral of our Grandfather, the Duke of Edinburgh. During his lifetime, there are legends that he had quite a tongue. Let's see. Asking the President of Nigeria, who greeted him whilst dressed in formal national garments, if he was ready for bed. Commending a black Brit who was born here that her English is surprisingly superb. Then that bit about calling the Japanese "slitty-eyed." Or was he referring to the Chinese? It doesn't matter, anyway. As the Media cried out throughout the last week, his death marks the end of an era. Yea, I know what that means. The British Empire and all the white supremacy which went with it. No wonder Philip took the p*ss out of anyone who might look a little different.

Prince Philip when young.

"Going back to that trip in 2003. Australia, a Commonwealth nation. A former colony in other words. How the British subjugated the indigenous Aboriginals who lived in that land for maybe thousands of years. So, if I'm a rep of the old Empire, how dare they assigned me as a rancher! Playing a role in maintaining the Reef, surely this would have been a lot better. None of that poo stench one would expect at a cattle ranch. Coming to think of it, I wonder if the Duke of Edinburgh would have loved the Reef? He was so much into the natural environment and the threat of climate change, even my father inherited the same set of traits, which is also parallel to the views of David Attenborough. 

"As a rancher and knowing that I must play second fiddle to my brother, had made me feel miserable Down Under. Then they began to accuse me as one of those whinging poms. Okay, perhaps I did feel like a Prisoner Of His Majesty's Service but had they treated me more like a Prince than a Pom, then there would have been nothing to whinge about. 

"But since Mum's death and her funeral, I made every effort to get on well with William. And so we both did. We were inseparable. The bond between us couldn't be broken, no matter what strain it was subjected to. But to live under his shadow, always playing second fiddle - why does anyone need to question the way I had behaved before I met and married Meghan? Why was it that through being an extrovert, I managed, quite successfully to woo the nation, making me the second most popular Royal after the Queen?

"And those parties I loved attending! On one occasion, I was caught topless by a passing photographer. What a scream! Especially when my pic made it into the national newspapers. And then having started the Invictus Games back in 2014. What a success they were. Not to mention the polo games I played, which I had inherited from both my father and grandfather. Oh, I loved it, really loved playing in the rain and ended up drenched and mud-splattered. Like that, I can shine my own light to cancel out William's shadow, at least for the time being.

"Then Meghan came along. Wow! What a raving beauty! And with African bloodline, this, to me, has enhanced her beauty. And this film star had recently divorced her husband. Yea, I know what the Bible says. That is, if a bloke marries a divorcee, he commits adultery. And my Grandma is the Defender of the Faith and head of the Anglican Church. And there was a time when our Church forbade divorcees from remarrying. But with the advance of Darwinism, much of that is discarded. A divorcee she may be, Meghan is the one for me.

"After the wedding and after the close of the honeymoon was when reality began to percolate into our lives. That was when a split between them and us began to show. It was Meghan who shone a light into my soul. How would I have ever known that by being a Royal myself that I too, had the imperialistic mentality festering in the subconscious? I wasn't even aware of it, and coming to think of it, none of my family members had ever been aware of it. Yet, here it sits in the subconscious mind - and has an influence on everything I think, feels, says and do. I guess it's his subconscious that made Grandad make such gaffs to his non-white hosts.

"And when I told her about that stag do which was held at Windsor Castle. I attended dressed in a Nazi suit. It was meant to be a lighthearted gaff, a fancy dress party. But it was Meghan, with her darker skin and therefore, more sensitive to these issues, who revealed to me my subconscious intuition. It was after all this was revealed to me that my imperialistic intuition got to me, and feeling rather ashamed of my Royal upbringing, I became more inward-looking and withdrawn. Meanwhile, the rift between Willian and me became wider, which also gave me another perception of the whole institution.

Prince Harry at a polo match.

"And just as Grandad became ill and was hospitalised, this interview with Oprah Winfrey came along. Really, it couldn't have been at the worst time. As Grandad was in a London hospital, recovering from an op, it had to be Meghan who accused our family of racism. What she was doing was revealing this intuition that dwells in their subconscious without any of them being aware of it. But I guess it can manifest itself in one way or another, such as in Grandad's gaffs, a sensitive question that was asked of Meghan, or even the way I dressed for a party. For her to accuse the Firm of racism was the final straw which broke the back of our relationship camel with William. No wonder he was furious!

"If it wasn't for royal protocol, I think William would have punched me hard in the mouth! I bet he was itching to do just that. Whew! Talk about flying sparks! Therefore, had I had the chance, I might have called William over and had a talk in the hope of cutting a trail towards reconciliation of some sort. However, with the pandemic, I had to quarantine as soon as I entered the UK. I couldn't see anybody for a week, let alone William. But to be honest, do I really want to make it up to William? After all, both he and his wife had upset Meghan before now. It's no surprise that I too feel agitated over this whole issue, and withdrew from royal duties last year.

"Why, oh why, wasn't Meghan better accepted by the rest of the Royal household? The British Empire was all about national white supremacy. It was out of this fruit of Empire where this human maggot grew within and crawled out. Charles Darwin had certainly left this dark brown stain of Evolution within the apple, making it inedible. I have already been reading the funeral schedule during isolation. It involves staying separate from my brother.

"But Psalm 104 will also be read out during the service. It's all about God's Creation. Something the Duke of Edinburgh believed in. Oh, the nation will bow its head momentary whilst it's read out aloud. But after that, it will be universally discarded with Darwinism fully embraced.

"It's all about pageantry. Nothing more than that."

The Day I'll Talk to the Queen...

A strange atmosphere is at present shrouding the whole of the United Kingdom. It began about midday yesterday, Friday, April 9th, 2021. Thank goodness such an announcement wasn't released eight days earlier. It could have gone down as the cruellest April Fool's joke anyone would have thought up.

Suddenly, everything in the Media had changed. Before yesterday, the centre of all attention was focused on the British-made AstraZeneca vaccine and whether there is a link between it and the few deaths which occurred following a blood clot in the brain. And so, arguments for and against this theory kept on swinging back and forth, baffling the experts. And that is despite in a recent poll, 69% of the British population say that far too much fuss was made about the vaccine-clot link, while only a mere 16% disagree, while a further 15% weren't sure.

The AstraZeneca was invented at Oxford University.

Having received my first dose of the AstraZeneca vaccine, I'm eagerly waiting for my turn to receive the second dose, and in no way would I allow such a controversy to get in between! Especially if the stats show just one to four blood clot-related deaths in 1,000,000 recipients of the AstraZeneca vaccine.  

However, through means of the daily feed, we are told that at the time of writing, there were a total of Covid-related deaths equalling 127,040 here in the UK. Not a single victim named. No faces, no familiarity. Instead, it's all about numbers. Just numbers. And not a single name appearing on the remotest corner of any newspaper page. And so, the Grim Reaper never takes a day off. Rather like Santa Clause on Christmas Eve, he goes roaming around the globe, but instead of giving out presents, he takes one human life after another at a shockingly high rate. And he's not even polite enough to first knock on the door!

Then the news comes in that HRH Prince Philip Duke of Edinburgh had just passed away. One news anchorwoman changes out of her brown outfit to don a black one. And male correspondents, journalists, reporters, and all others involved in the Media, including those behind the scenes, all strip off their current ties to make way for their black ties. Others who feel more comfortable wearing an open-neck shirt suddenly produce a black strip of cloth like a rabbit out of the magician's hat. It was as if everyone was expecting the Grim Reaper, sooner or later, to invade one of Windsor's apartments without an invitation.

And as death will come upon all of us without exception, most will see death as just a natural part of the evolutionary process. And it goes to show how cold and pitiless Evolution really is, as it pushes on with its survival of the fittest. This process of Natural Selection - could this be why a tourist who visits a Safari Reserve can only do so in a protective jeep or similar vehicle? Any lion, tiger, or other carnivores would have no special respect for a tourist. Rather, the satisfying of her hungry stomach and the welfare of her cubs would always be its priority.

And the same applies if our Queen and Prince Philip had ever visited the park. They too would have had to ride in the jeep. The big cats would never favour this royal couple above everybody else and spare them. The same applies to a visit to the local zoo. London Zoological Gardens has a VIP entrance which is separate from the public entrance. But once in the park, none of the animals born in captivity would give this couple any more attention than everyone else. Rather, the keeper will order the Royals to stay out of the tiger's pen, just as he would have ordered anyone else to stay out. Likewise, with our supposed closest relative, the primates, none of them would bow to the Queen any more than they would to any casual hipster.

Therefore, for the whole nation, along with its former colonies, to go into mourning over the death of just one person - whilst over 127,000 die of a viral disease without a single bat of the eyelid. According to the Daily Mail newspaper of Saturday, April 10th, 2021, the first 35 pages are fully devoted to Prince Philip and the whole of the century of his life. Then on page 36, Specsavers Opticians placed a full-page advert pic of a delicious vanilla ice cream cone, complete with a Flake bar, before the paper begins to cover other, less important news, including a set of national statistics on the AstraZeneca vaccine. 

Is ice cream good for eyesight? Food for thought, perhaps.

But here, I would like to set the record straight. I have never had any issues with the Monarch or her kin. I believe that over the decades she has done a wonderful job as Sovereign. Likewise, the Duke of Edinburgh had always been her backbone, supporting her throughout her entire reign, especially during difficult times when Charles and Diana divorced and afterwards she was killed in a car accident. He stood by her, and quite likely, had played a vital role in preventing the institution from disintegrating.

But what I find so incredible is how just one man's death brings the whole nation mourning - while many died within a month of a positive test result for Coronavirus - and each victim of the virus looked upon merely as a statistic without a name. And yet the Media goes into overdrive when just one man dies. Nothing new here, this sort of monarch-worship is not confined to Britain. Rather, this had been ongoing for thousands of years elsewhere.

The Royal Couple, taken in 2019.

But like the virus, death does not discriminate one person from another. It will get us all eventually, that is if each one of us is a descendant of our first parents, Adam and Eve. It's that awful reality, so out-of-sorts, so unnatural, and so invasive. It has caused families to grieve throughout history, it can cause a whole nation to mourn, yet when a wicked or cruel man dies, there is often a sigh of relief - as the environment is at last free from his grip, power or influence. I wonder how many felt relief when news of Adolf Hitler's death made the headlines?

As death doesn't discriminate on who it will hit next, yet there is one man who had defeated death and is alive now, Jesus Christ, who is of Jewish descent. And one day, after every believer alive throughout the ages is resurrected, we will be like him, for we shall see him as he is. The Lord Jesus Christ is the Great Equaliser.

The Revelation of John the Divine is the very last book of the Bible. It's also known as the Apocalypse by the Catholic church. The book consists of letters written to seven churches located in what is now western Turkey. These letters are then followed by a series of prophecies of the future, with the establishment of God's eternal Kingdom. The whole book is centred on Jesus Christ himself. Its author, the apostle John, experienced a series of divine visions while he was exiled alone on the Greek island of Patmos. 

In chapters 21 and 22, John describes a glorious city, the New Jerusalem, "coming down out of heaven." It's a city of tremendous size, which indicates a very large population. The city will be surrounded by a wall with twelve gates which will never be shut. This may indicate access to the rest of the world, glorious in beauty with an abundance of lush vegetation, along with mountains, valleys and streams of pure, drinkable water, as the whole Earth is restored to an Edenic paradise. Somewhere in the city, the throne of God is established, and with Jesus Christ as the Lamb of God enthroned, there will be easy access to the throne where anyone can approach, without hindrance or any form of special preparation, and talk to God face-to-face, like a man talking to his friend.

Apparently, 24 more thrones look to be established, twelve on each side of God's throne. One set of twelve will be seated by all twelve tribal heads of Israel - each of the twelve sons of Jacob. The other twelve will be occupied by the twelve apostles of Jesus Christ. Each will be easily approachable, with no need for special preparations beforehand.

I believe that next to the throne of God, there could be a crucifix. If so, then this will be placed there to remind everybody that they are in his presence because of the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ which had defeated sin and death altogether. 

Not a single "good deed" done by any of its inhabitants have ever earned a place in this city. Instead, by atoning for every sin by dying on the cross, every inhabitant has God's own righteousness imputed into his soul whilst still in his old life, and this imputation comes by faith in the risen Christ. In other words, God had saved every single believing individual now alive in the new world.

And this includes the Queen and Prince Philip. Not because of their former status but because of Christ redemption on the cross. It also includes every Christian I have known personally, and it includes my beloved wife and me.

Alex will be a ravishing beauty, her face shining. Likewise, both the Queen and Philip will look as if they're in their early thirties, and each one of us will be approachable. There will be no security guards surrounding them and no need for escorts.

And thus the Queen is walking arm-in-arm with her husband. Alex and I approach and all four of us can engage in a conversation, with then relating to us on what the life of a monarch was really like, while I relate to Alex's past illnesses and how she's so wonderfully delivered. Since there's no shortage of time and nobody is in any hurry, the happy chat between us can last for quite a while. We would never get bored with each other, nor suffer any form of impatience, and there will be no "we must move on" attitude.

I can imagine a table placed near the banks of the river which will flow from God's throne. At this table, the four of us can sit, and enjoy eating the fruit that grows continually on the riverside trees. Then, great men of the Bible are often seen and there are times when we can talk to them and allow them to relate about their former lives. The prophet Daniel, for one, can tell us what it was like spending the night in a den of lions. David can tell us how he felt when he killed Goliath. Gideon tells us how he doubted God's faithfulness and how he tested him twice using a fleece. Samson tells of the day he had a haircut. Noah then relates to what it was like taking care of both his family and all the animals on board the ark for a year. Finally, Abraham comes along and points to the cross standing next to God's throne. And to God we all bow.

How the Cross of Christ levels everything and everyone! Maybe that was meant by a prophecy that in him, valleys shall be filled in, every mountain and hill brought low. The crooked ways made straight and the rough ways smooth. The gross inequality between the death of Prince Philip and the victim of Covid will be levelled off and made equal. All it takes is to believe in the Death, Burial and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and salvation will come to us all in all equality. 

Easter: Read Between the Lines -

An atheist was cycling along in a built-up area when a car suddenly emerged from a narrow, one-way street without stopping to give way. However, the rider had a quick reflex and he swung his handlebars to the left just short of ploughing into the side of the car. The manoeuvre caused him to fly off his mount as the front wheel ploughed over the kerb. How he hated those wretched T-junctions, especially in an urban area when buildings on each side of the turning concealed any traffic approaching from the left.

He lay for a moment on the sidewalk, the bicycle next to him with the rear wheel still spinning while the front wheel suffered a buckle, rendering the whole machine unrideable. But worse than that, he was suffering pain where his impact with the unyielding concrete had grazed his skin at one knee joint, another graze at his left wrist and an ache at his hip indicating the formation of a bruise. At least his face and head were okay. A blow to the cranium could have been fatal. Perhaps, in future, the purchase of a cyclist's crash hat is a worthwhile investment.

He locked up his damaged bike onto a post, followed by a need to wait for the rest of the traffic to clear, then he crossed the road to make his way to a nearby Costa Coffee. As for the "idiot driver" - either he didn't see the cyclist approaching, or if he did, he must have put his foot down pretty sharpish, as the car was nowhere to be seen. How about the driver pausing to give an apology and to ensure that his victim was all right? Come off it! What planet do these fantasists live on?

Unfortunately, not the heavenly planet where God is supposed to be enthroned. And as he sat with a cappuccino and a croissant in front of him, he began to ask questions in his mind about this imaginary guy in the sky:-

You who sit on your cosy throne, surrounded by angels all pampering to your comforts, if you're there and suppose to love us so much, then why all this suffering? And why did that bloody idiot had gotten away without any hint of punishment?

I bet you had never felt any pain, not to suffer wounds where I could easily pick up a bug that causes sepsis and other stinking infections. No, of course not, not whilst sitting on your cosy throne. I bet you have never known what's it like to feel hungry or thirsty or to feel tired, exhausted, or covered in sweat, or even to feel cold.

And consider the evils of slavery. I bet that in your perfect world, you have never been humiliated, to be put in your place by your owners, to be made a mockery of. Huh! You don't have to be a slave to suffer that. Just take a look into the playground or in the gym locker room of my old school. And poor, spectacled Joe, with his paunchy belly and buck teeth. I bet you have never been pushed into a corner and kicked, along with all the revilings, teasing and laughter those bullies constantly throw at him. He sits crouched in the corner, his face buried in his arms, weeping silently, and already thinking about taking his own life. Hence the sheer worthlessness he feels, simply because he doesn't fit in with the crowd. Then the master arrives and barks at him, ordering him to change into his kit and join the rest of his class for the basketball lesson, knowing full well that no team captain would choose him.

And you know, God, about those born into slavery - just by forgetting to call his miserly master "Sir" -  he gets flogged with a leather whip across his naked back. Lash after lash pulverising his skin while he screams, begging for mercy while his master revels in his own evil satisfaction. While you continue to sit enthroned with all your angels playing on their harps, entertaining you.

You say that you created us. You say that you have people you call your own. Heavens! If there is such a lousy Designer, it has to be you, if you really exist up there in the sky.

At this point, the atheist pauses in his thinking. He takes a sip of his cappuccino, but the emotion he was suffering caused his throat to convulse slightly as he swallowed, sending the liquid down the wrong way. He started to cough raucously, attracting attention from the other customers, who looked on with sudden alarm as if he was a virus superspreader. One or two who were gazing at him in the queue turned and walked out of the coffee bar before their turn came to be served.

Feeling angry at their reaction, which is intensified by the constant ache he felt in his knee and wrist, he felt the need to defend himself. So he called out:

My cough isn't caused by the virus! I gulped and it went down the wrong way! There's nothing to worry about!

At a nearby table, a female toddler began to cry for no apparent reason. A small piece of cake can be seen quivering on her tongue as she wailed. The atheist, who is unmarried and having no children of his own, wondered what's it's like being a parent. It didn't cross his mind that the child was alarmed by the man's loud reassurance. As her mother tries to comfort her daughter by embracing her and sitting her on her own lap, the young man, still gazing towards the young girl as her crying ceased and swallowing her food, remained on the thought line of parenting, and he began to think about a very disturbing set of incidents that had brought unconsolable distress to one elderly father.

Poor little girl! I wonder whether I might have scared her. But those who walked out of the cafe - they make me sick! Geesh! Just as well this is not the Greater Manchester area. Those drug dealers living in this decrepit terraced house in a slum area. By heck! We might have colonised half the world during the days of Empire, but heaven help us, we are the masters of slum-ugliness when it comes to home-building. And all this makes me wonder what is there to be proud about.

Poor Toby! He set up his patch within the same turf as Larry and his lads. Larry then made very careful plans including giving away his mobile phone to one of his gang members so he couldn't be traced. He then invited Toby to come to his home to set up a drug deal. When Toby arrived, he was shot five times, all point-blank. Later, at the mortuary, the dead man's father was called in to identify him.

"Oh, bloody hell," he cried. "Yes, he's my son!" Wow, never would I have thought that such pity over his father's loss, combined with such a statement would send shivers down my spine. Supposing this hell is real. That's why I hate this Christian faith. There is this invisible man in the sky, sitting comfortably on his throne, and you must love him unconditionally or end up in hell. At least that was what Mum's church taught, anyway. As for Larry, well, right now he's serving more than thirty years in prison.

What a way to live! I guess a lack of proper education and thus, remaining unemployed has really screwed those lads up big time. And rather than claim benefits, they turn to drug dealing. Not merely to survive but to make big profits. And woe if you step on another's turf! Unless you're desperate to buy the field...

This invisible guy in the sky. If Mum's church is anything to go by, then those who call themselves God's people are a world away from all those I had described. Well-to-do, educated, holding down professional careers. There are even many undergrads who also meet there. Really, I don't understand at all.

Does God really associate himself with these guys? What with a life of comparative ease, maybe identifying themselves with this cushy number sitting on his heavenly throne. They say that one day they will be like him, for they shall see him as he is. One day in the future? Huh! They are just like him right now. All have a similar thing in common. A nice, cosy, middle-class family.

Again, the atheist pauses in his thoughts as he watches the mother at the nearby table rise and taking her daughter, lowered her into her pushchair. Although at that moment, many kids of her age would start crying over the loss of freedom to move around, this one didn't make too much of a fuss, only a couple of whimpers. Then the mother walks away, pushing her daughter's chair towards the door, leaving the table piled with an empty coffee mug, a cup half-full with orange juice, a plate with screwed up wrapping paper next to a piece of uneaten muffin, along with enough crumbs scattered across the small round table which will provide some work for the staff member responsible for clearing up.

As more people pour into the coffee bar, the atheist saw how a messy table was very successful in deterring everyone looking around for an unoccupied table to settle down at. As a vegan, the atheist also knew that he couldn't touch a muffin, as its ingredients include milk and eggs. Fortunately, it was possible to make a cappuccino with almond milk, an ingredient from a vegetable source. And to him, such a way of life is entirely justifiable, as he is free from the conscience that he is contributing to the intense suffering and slaughter of so many animals, including the forced separation of the calf from its mother, just to suit the tastebuds. A far cry from the Judeo/Christian culture of meat and dairy consumption.

Eventually, he rose from his table and made his way to the exit. He makes his way to the locked bicycle and unlocks it to wheel it to a bicycle shop a couple of blocks down the street. He has already decided that a new front wheel, identical to the old one, would suit both his bike and his pocket.

As he approached a narrow alley, he pauses, and still holding on to his bicycle, he looks up towards the sky, and cries out, oblivious to anyone within earshot:-

Oh God, I don't believe you exist - but if you do exist, I bet you have absolutely no idea what it's like to live as a human down here.

I bet that you have no idea what it's like to feel tired and hungry or to feel thirsty in hot, dry weather.

I bet that you have absolutely no idea what it's like to suffer rejection, to feel lonely, to feel what it's like to have all your friends desert you. I bet you have never experienced any form of bullying, just like poor Joe. I bet you never felt a pariah in society, to be mocked, teased, hated, made fun of. I bet you have no idea when you thought a best friend you thought you had, turned and betrayed you for the sole reason of making money and getting rich. 

And I bet that since you sit in comfort, enthroned in heaven, you have absolutely no idea what it's like to suffer pain. Unlike those poor, wretched slaves, I bet you had never felt the lash of a whip across your back. Unlike them, I bet that whilst sitting on that throne, you can't even imagine what it would be like to suffer flagellation - to have a whip with bits in to pulverise your skin to the point when you're almost about to lose consciousness, then leaving you lying on the ground whilst they laugh and mock at you. Yet history is full of such cruelty.

I bet you don't know what it's like to be put to death as a common criminal. And history does testify of those who were victims of a miscarriage of justice - they died while actually innocent. I bet you never went through any of that, O God. Just think of it. Some of these death sentences involve cruelty beyond which human imagination can ever devise. But you, O God, of course, would know nothing of the experience.

If you exist, you are just an invisible entity in the sky.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We wish you all a happy Easter. God bless.