If I Was An Atheist...

As I stepped outside this morning, it was no longer in just tee-shirt and shorts as was during the previous weekend. Instead, I was dressed in normal long trousers and wearing a woollen zip-up jacket over the tee-shirt. Indeed, the arrival of Storm Hannah from the Atlantic Ocean has cooled the weather significantly over the last few days, drawing in a strong North-Westerly breeze which has an impact in the fall of air temperature. But here in the South of England, we just had the cool breeze with cloudy skies. According to the Met Office, from the Midlands north, there was continuous heavy rain which, so far, we managed to escape save for a few isolated showers.

Last weekend was, of course, the most important weekend on the calendar. It was to remember the Crucifixion, the Burial and the Resurrection of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, the Son of God. The weather back then was glorious - warm sunshine which heightened the mood of the whole country - thanks to a large area of high pressure which sat over the UK. At last, we were able to leave our overcoats, scarves and woollies at home and venture out in Summer attire. And spend considerable time, both on Easter Sunday and Bank Holiday Monday, with my academic Christian friend, Dr Andrew Milnthorpe.

On Easter Sunday, my wife Alex and I joined Andrew and his parents David and Sandra, both whom I knew well, even before Andrew was born, to be treated for Easter lunch at a popular self-serve restaurant. As former window cleaning customers for many years, I believe in the possibility of their gratefulness for the few occasions when we took their son under our wing, especially during the two Creation Conference weekends as well as other trips to London, and to Oxford, too.

Here in the UK, Bank Holiday Mondays are statutory whenever a Christian festival falls on a Sunday, whether Christmas Day, Easter Sunday or Whitsun. Therefore on this Easter Monday, Andrew, together with Alex and I took a fast Great Western train from Reading to London Paddington for a visit to the Science Museum in South Kensington. For me, such an exhibition of the advance in science by the invention of clever commodities to make our day-to-day living more comfortable is certainly impressive. But we had to cut short our visit after arriving at the basement where the Children's Gallery, housing fully hands-on exhibits, have made my beloved wife very upset.

This was because she remembers it from some sixteen years earlier when Alex and I took our young daughter Rosina to this particular gallery so she can play at "The Garden" which includes a water exhibit. Here she was allowed to get her hands wet by opening and closing valves, rather like the gates at a canal lock, and therefore regulating the flow, and at the same time learning basic physics.

Such memories haunted my wife, and she began to experience another of her episodes. My quick action averted her comatose-like condition, followed by a quick exit from the museum altogether.

We began to make our way to Kensington Gardens, then into Hyde Park itself, where at the Serpentine were many pedaloes and rowing boats plying aimlessly across the artificial lake. Ah, rowing boats. An activity inherited from my father, this reminded me of my happy days as a fit young man in my twenties and thirties, when I came here on Saturday afternoons specifically to hire a rowing boat on the Serpentine. Too bad that a chain barrier has always been up to stop us from taking the boat under the West Carriage Drive bridge into the Long Water, thus rowing the full length of the lake. At the sight of the pedaloes, Andrew got rather keen, but with my wife's state of health, I wasn't too sure about hiring one for ourselves.

However, with the design of the boat to allow Alex to recline comfortably on the front seat, along with my academic friend offering to pay for all three of us, I relented, and a short while later we spent an hour pedalling away from one end of the Serpentine to the other. All three of us had thoroughly enjoyed the experience despite the constant tiring out of my leg muscles necessitating the need for frequent breaks.

The whole weekend was under the remembrance of Jesus Christ, his death and resurrection. I think the warm sunshine was an ideal symbol of this. His death on the cross brought atonement, and his resurrection defeated death, and eternal life, lost in Adam, is now given as a free gift to all believers. It is a time of joy, a time for friendship, a time of rest, just as all Christian saints enter God's rest from the moment of first believing, according to Hebrews 4: 1-11. Such was the Easter weekend.

Other Pedaloes on the Serpentine, taken by Alex.

However, less than two days after arriving home from such a wonderful day trip to London, all came crashing back down to earth! Just as the weather itself began to cool with intermittent showers.

On the morning of Wednesday 24th April, while I was checking for updates and personal messages, there was no more remembrance of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Instead, this video poster came up on the laptop screen as I scrolled through Facebook. The video was of a short clip about Brexit-supporting factory owner Lance Forman giving an interview on why he is withdrawing his support for the Conservative Party to join Nigel Farage's newly-formed Brexit Party. He was dressed in suit-and-tie, the ideal attire for an English businessman and mandarin, and in all appearances, a true Englishman through and through. The video was posted by none other than my good friend Dr Andrew Milnthorpe.

Not only was I feeling disappointed but also irritated by such an anticlimax to a superb weekend. My mood was the exact reflection of the weather - getting cooler, breezier with storm clouds gathering. It was later that evening when Andrew phoned me with an invitation to attend a prayer meeting at the Kerith Centre. I declined - a very unusual action to take - but I was hit with a sudden shock that this prayer meeting may involve Brexit.

I had to examine my heart. To decline an invitation of this kind was not only unusual, but it was also sudden, impulsive. Why did I refuse? I tried to think of various other reasons, including the notion that although I was honouring God with my lips, my heart would still be far from him (Isaiah 29:13, Matthew 15:8) - especially on the issue of Brexit. Yet, as I began to feel an element of regret for not turning up, I began to pray at home, asking God what exactly had made me behave the way I did. Finally, I concluded that this Brexit video was the main contributing factor. I also prayed for God to capture my heart and draw it closer to his, an act of grace, for it's impossible for a natural heart to draw close to him, in fact, without the Holy Spirit's help, it's unable to do so.

I did a little bit of research on Lance Forman. He is a fourth generation Jewish descendant of Russian immigrant Harry Aaron Forman, who emigrated to London at the start of the twentieth century to set up a salmon smoking business in East London. The firm's present heir and owner only took over relatively recently, within the last 25 years. Perhaps being involved in the fishing industry, I'm not at all surprised that he is keen on Brexit, with the reclaiming of territorial waters around the British Isles from surrounding European nations will help secure the future of his business.

Also, the fact that I called a Jewish businessman an idiot on Facebook was also unsettling, according to Genesis 12:3, where it says that God will bless everyone who blesses Abraham and curse those who curse him. After all, Haman cursed the Jews and he was hanged for it (Esther 7). But Haman knew what he was doing, in turn, I wasn't aware of Forman's ethnic origins. I hope God will forgive me.

It was an article by Daily Mail columnist Richard Littlejohn who only yesterday has brought up a question now frequently asked on the first date between potential sweethearts:

Have you voted Leave or Remain?

Littlejohn goes on to say that to answer this particular question would either make or break a fledgeling relationship. I guess he must be right. If there was ever a topic of discussion that has a potential for family breakups, turning friendship into enmity, splitting the Government into polarising positions and dividing the whole nation into two halves, it has to be Brexit. This is why despite that Andrew and I have opposing views, I find it amazing that we are close friends and continue to be close friends, even regarding ourselves as brothers. It is the grace of God. The Holy Spirit can accomplish what the natural heart wouldn't have been able to do. Unite us even under diverse opinions.

Easter is a time to reflect on the cruel death of Jesus of Nazareth on a wooden cross, his burial in a sealed rock tomb, and his Resurrection from that tomb. It crosses the mind of everyone. But to some, it's nothing more than religious hocus-pocus while their children are fixed on chocolate. To others, it's time for hats off to Jesus, but that's it for another year, maybe again at Christmas. But to others still, Easter is a revelation of the power of God to all who believe.

I spent my teenage years as a so-called atheist. I use the term "so-called" because I don't believe that real atheism exists, no matter what the non-believer himself thinks. I have been there. It wasn't a conviction that God doesn't or never existed. Rather it was a harbouring of hatred towards God stemming from the false idea that Heaven can only be achieved by self-effort, and for me to be "good enough" and to keep myself spotless and free from sin - an impossible feat! The notion that God is forever dissatisfied with me and even questions my motives if I was to call on him, this leads to hating God, not deny his existence, even if I loudly do so.

Supposing I was never converted to Jesus Christ in December 1972 or ever. Chances that I would never have known Andrew. This is because I met and got to know his parents in a Baptist church, the one place I would have stayed firmly away. But among all church-going Brexiteers, if ever I got acquainted with any of them, I would have slated all of them off as insincere hypocrites - claiming to know God whilst seeking their own national independence and glory. As I see it, the two just don't sit together - unless being a Christian and a nationalist is meant to be one and the same faith. If so, I doubt very much if such a religion would ever convert me to Christ.

Alex took this one of us - Easter Monday 2019.

The chances of forming friendships with Brexit-voting churchgoers would have been very slim, if not impossible. That is due to the fact that I voted to remain in the EU, although I still wouldn't have received any verbal hostility, but rather, I would be sidelined or even ignored and maybe even thought of as weak, spineless, a traitor or disloyal, with nobody actually saying any of that to me vocally, but I would have felt it in the air - and that is exactly what has happened among other Brexit-voting Christians whom I know well. Any chance of conversion from atheism to sainthood would have been razor thin if it ever happened at all. 

But I'm not an atheist now. Instead, I am a believer in Jesus Christ Crucified and his burial and Resurrection, therefore home to the Holy Spirit within. That is why I can form great friendships with the likes of Andrew, whom I treasure with great value. And in addition, my desire is to love all, especially those in the household of faith. 

My longing is to have a heart which is in union with God's heart, to love others unconditionally, as God does. And that includes nurturing the love I have for Andrew. But as long as I dwell in sinful flesh, my love will never be perfect until the day I enter Glory. After then, Brexit would be of no significance.

But right now, Andrew's friendship is everything to me.

Slain - But Not By George

St. George's Day came and went as expected - without any fanfare, bunting, flags, live bands, let alone any street carnivals, at least, not around my area. As I reclined under the warm sunshine on a sloping grass verge fronting the town's Roman Catholic Church, directly opposite the entrance of the indoor shopping mall, I watched people saunter past in all four directions, with no one, as far as I observed, wearing tee shirts sporting a red cross on a white background. Instead, whether any were in a hurry or not, all had some business to attend, whatever nature such calling would have been, without any hint that this day was meant to be special. Rather it was just another working day.

I guess most countries have their own national days. Even in the United Kingdom, Scotland celebrates St. Andrew's Day; with Ireland it's St. Patrick's; and Wales has St. David - not the ancient King David of Israel around 1,000 BC as I once thought, but a far more recent Bishop of Menevia who was around during the 6th Century AD. But even with these three saints, Andrew, Patrick, and David, a far greater effort has always been made to bring some carnival atmosphere into commemorating their special days. But not for our poor St. George, patron saint of England. As this is being typed right in the midst of a national election campaign to form the next UK Government, all the political parties broadcast their own manifestos, yet only one - the United Kingdom Independence Party, or UKIP for short - promises to make St George's Day a national Bank Holiday.

Not that businesses across England would welcome such a proposal. Unlike Easter Monday, May Day, and Spring Bank Holidays, all which falls on a Monday; St. Georges Day, like New Years Day, would fall on any day of the week. I can imagine employers being up in arms over this. Rue the day when St. George selects a Tuesday or a Thursday to mark his commemoration. Imagine the large number of employees who would phone in sick on the Monday or Friday respectively. I recall once the huge commotion in our national newspapers the week following January 1st a few years ago, when the holiday fell on a Thursday. According to the Press, the nation's economy had taken a nosedive when the Friday was taken off in addition to the holiday, and did not pick up again until the doors of the workplace opened on Monday, January 5th. Although according to one poll, 83% of the English population is in favour of making our national day a Bank Holiday, I can't see this going down well in the business world.

But even if St George became a national holiday, it would have nothing in comparison to the highly festive days celebrated with carnivals and a party atmosphere found in other countries, especially in Asian and tropical regions. Could it be that our conservative self reserve, the stiff upper lip, and our stoicism, along with a large dollop of pessimism, be connected with our lousy, unpredictable climate? After all, a chilly wind accompanied by driving rain is pretty well normal for August, when the kids take their Summer leave from school. Then to add to this, living on an island, cut off from mainland Europe by a minimum twenty miles of sea, does give us a false sense of an ideal society over the centuries at least, along with the delusion of being chosen by God, and his divine approval to go out to sea and conquer the world for him.

Oh, the irony of it all! We have St. George as the patron saint of England, yet this guy, whether historic of mythical, wasn't even an Englishman, but imported from either Georgia east of the Black Sea, Cappadocia in Turkey, or from Libya. Other things we so consider traditionally English includes tea, imported from India. Then the most English of all takeaways, fish & chips, being a convenience meal originating from a group of Jewish refugees, and the traditional pub or tavern was also common throughout the ancient Roman Empire, so according to a recent BBC programme. Little wonder that the English have really, little of their own to celebrate, and maybe can't be bothered to make any commemoration at all.

But come the World Cup football tournament, or any other national or international event, whether sporting, or pageantry, then many St. George Crosses begins to appear across the land - upon bedroom windows, gardens, tied to the aerial of cars, clothing, and even tattooed permanently on the (usually male) body. Yet it was only recently that I have learnt that the red cross of the English flag is depicted from the Roman Catholic crucifix. If there was a time that I wished I had a much keener interest in history at school, I might have learnt about such an elaborate story brought back to England by the Crusaders during the eleventh or twelfth Century. Something about the legend of a brave warrior who bartered with the local pagan population to slay a dragon living in a nearby cave, who had received a young maiden as a sacrificial offering, in exchange for a mass conversion of the people to Catholicism. When the local population agreed to the conversion, George took his crucifix with him, along with his sword, and successfully slew the beast. Afterwards the people were baptised into their new faith.

A very charming story which does not seem to have any historical verification, but I guess it was a good one to enforce the morale of the Crusaders themselves, as well as boosting the credentials of the Catholic faith to the general population of Europe and Britain. However, as one who believe that most, if not all legends, have a kernel of truth embedded within, it is likely that such a character named George did exist, in much the same way as Bishop Nicholas of Myra, a historical figure, known for his generosity and goodness towards the poor, giving rise to the eternal festive character of Santa Clause riding high upon a sleigh flown by airborne reindeer. So in truth, this fellow named George might have been a valiant soldier who had performed an outstanding act of war, or rescued a maiden in distress in similar ways that a fireman would rescue someone from a burning building. He might have even slain a more realistic beast such as a lion. Unfortunately, a lion is far less romantic or mystical than a dragon. But whatever the historical character might have been, he is portrayed as strong, courageous, and brave. And these are the triple virtue every Englishman wants to see in himself, as well as by others.

And maybe that's it. If I was to see myself as strong, brave and courageous, then why the need to trust in God? I would have everything I'll need, not just to survive, but also to prosper, and in a way to be my own saviour. Could this be the underlying factor which has built self confidence in lieu of faith in God? The snag with this philosophy is that it can be very difficult to hold up in the real world. Anger, fear and anxiety are the three harmful emotions which not only are so detrimental to the soul but also to physical health as well. I am aware that most men can keep their emotions under check in public, at least to a certain limit. But I am convinced that keeping emotions bottled up under a stiff upper lip, then be told to man up when things go wrong, is not the solution. Instead, Peter instructed all believers to "cast all your burdens upon him (Jesus, the resurrected Lord) for he cares for you" (1 Peter 5:7).

Strong, Bravery, and Courage, three virtues that are good qualities in a person's character. But if centred on self, as was the case of George and all his followers, than they could be a blockage to having faith in God, instead creating self-confidence and pride, along with a self-set standard no one can honestly keep. When failure comes, the one who thought he had these characteristics may arrive at the point in believing he is weak, cowardly, and timid, resulting in developing a low self-esteem that can last a whole lifetime, even leading to severe depression, and eventually, the possibility of suicide.

King David of Israel was very strong, very brave and very courageous. Whenever there was a threat from a strong enemy, particularly from the Philistines, he led his forces into battle, and always won, bringing victory to Israel. But he did not depend on his own strength to win these victories. Instead, he wholly trusted in God. One of the best examples of this dependency is found in 2 Samuel 7:18-29, where David prays to the Lord after God had delivered a set of promises through Nathan. Another is Psalm 40, where is faith in God is fully testified. David was filled with the Holy Spirit, who came into him at the moment he was anointed with oil by the prophet Samuel (1 Samuel 16:13). Throughout the rest of his life, David allowed the Holy Spirit of God to produce the fruits, including courage and bravery.

But while great men such as King David depended fully on God and has gotten his strength by trusting in him, that is not the case with the natural man, who has only himself to depend on, and is the basis of pride and self-exaltation if success comes his way. This happens individually, as a group or company, and as a nation. While in the past, the English might have had something to be proud of, and to boast about, mainly over imperial success and victory in warfare. Nowadays, there is little to be proud over, and the shameful defeat and humiliation of the England squad in the last World Cup tournament, for example, caused the nation to mourn silently while remaining stoic among other nations.

There is only one alternative, and that is to believe in your heart that Jesus Christ died, was buried, and on the third day rose from the dead, proving to the world that he is the Christ and Lord. By believing, you allow the Cross of Christ to slay the self-controlled Old Man, to give birth to the New Man, born of God with new desires to love and serve God and other people, and to love the brethren, that is, fellow believers. It was Jesus who has shown us how easy it is to be filled with the Holy Spirit of God. Just ask, and his Father in heaven will gladly give (Luke 11:13.) If you believe in your heart enough to ask God to fill you with his Holy Spirit, then he will send him, no strings attached. And that promise is from none other than Jesus Christ himself.

There is a test set out by John the apostle to prove whether you are truly born of God, and is this: Do you love the brethren, your fellow believers in Jesus? If you do, then you are a true believer (1 John 4:7-8.) God's love in us does not allow room for pride, haughtiness, conceit, snobbery, or the feeling of ethnic or racial superiority, neither does it seek for heroism. Instead, it seeks for the interest of the affairs of others.

Without the need to slay any dragons.