Beach Hedonism

Having just returned home from a short break, this holiday in Bournemouth was quite a learning curve, and very different from all the travel I had experienced throughout my lifetime. Because for the first time ever, our getaway involved a wheelchair in which my beloved sat, with myself pushing, often involving very steep ramps, as our hotel was located on a clifftop, and no matter which direction we took, we could not arrive at our hotel entrance without a stiff climb preceding it. Then the hotel was not really wheelchair friendly, as both the doorstep and the reception, just inside, involved steps. Fortunately, my wife Alex is what you may call semi-disabled. That is, she is able to get out of the chair and climb the stairs without aid before needing to get back in, making this an identical situation as at home, where she does not use the wheelchair at all - a big improvement from October of the previous year, when she was totally unable to move her thigh and leg muscles.

 

One of the highlights of the holiday were the long walks along the promenade, which connected Bournemouth with the neighbouring towns of Poole at one side, and Boscombe on the other, with the walkway linking all three without a single incline - such a blessing when it was constructed at a set distance above sea level. I have to admit, there was something euphoric in my spirit as I pushed the wheelchair over several miles. During these walks, I was able to look at Alex's head directly in front of me and felt such love for her pouring out of my heart - maybe because she depended on me entirely for her welfare and wellbeing. It seemed as an exact replica of the risen Jesus loving his bride, the church, both as individual believers and corporately as a body.

 

 

 

But not all was peaches and cream, the dream holiday everybody longs for. The weather was hot with unbroken sunshine, a heatwave by which we underestimated the strength of the sun. So on the day we lay on the beach and swam in the sea, we got sunburned, both of us, but the pain we did not feel until after we had returned to the hotel for the evening. Having a cold bath partially relieved the symptoms, but by the morning of the next day, we took action to buy a sunburn cream containing Ibuprofen, a non-inflammatory painkiller, and applied this liberally to the affected areas of our bodies. Indeed the aching did subside, and we both felt better afterwards, properly dressed and ready to start the first of our two walks, the longer one to Poole and back, with the sunburn virtually forgotten.

 

But for poor Alex, the cream had a side effect, causing her face to puff up, along with her feet, by the following evening. After she had watched the vast crowd of locals, visitors and holidaymakers enjoying their time at the beach and taking their mobility for granted, my dear beloved, away from the crowds, broke into tears. As I comforted her with tenderness, I assured her that my love and devotion to her will never ever fail, and I will be with her until my time is up. Once married always married. On top of this, I have encouraged her not to let her faith fail, and I gave her an example from the Old Testament character Job, who experienced the loss of all his children bar one, and the loss of all his possessions, and finally the loss of his health until he reached a point of hanging on to life by a hair. Yet, despite of all that, he declared:

 

I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth.

And after my skin has been destroyed, and yet in my flesh I will see God;

I myself will see him with my own eyes, - I, and not another.

How my heart yearns within me!

Job 19:25-27.

 

"I will see God." l will see God. The eternal security Job obviously felt about the afterlife was enough to strengthen Alex's spirit, and mine too. It was sufficient for the rest of the holiday not to be spoilt, and although the sunburn did gives us gyp, particularly at night, believing in the eternal promises of God was very re-assuring for both of us.

 

Yet the initial cause of my wife weeping as she sat in her wheelchair was the sight of so many people in such a holiday mood, as the sun shone, brightening up the whole environment into vivid colours and contrasts. Yes, we did see a few other wheelchairs about, but we could count on the fingers of just one hand the few we did see, compared to the countless individuals, couples, group of friends, and families, all sauntering along with probably no thought of their ability to walk normally without assistance. And on one evening, when we decided to stay in town until late at night, I especially, was taken in by the large group of revellers having barbecues on the sandy beach, with not a few actually having a late-night swim in the sea, with just the pier lights for illumination. The raucous, shouting, laughter, and generally messing about among them did not pose any threat of violence. Quite unusual, so I thought, for the British do have a reputation for alcohol, drunkenness, vomiting, violence and hospitalisation, not to mention a night spent in a police cell, particularly abroad, with the Mediterranean island of Ibiza being one of the top destinations for young Brits during the Summer. But as we drew nearer the crowd, I began to notice the dominance of both foreign languages and broken English. The crowds having a whale of a time seem to be mainly from abroad, who were able to revel without all those alcohol-related setbacks. At the same time the bright lights of the fun fair, in the town's main square, throbbing with life and loud music as more of these revellers opted for a ride.

 

The general age range seems to be in their twenties, which gave me a clue that they were likely students. But whatever the reason why they were here, has got me to ponder a little - or a lot, maybe. How would Jesus Christ had re-acted in this joyous environment? This question had got me to think how things were during the Victorian or Edwardian age. During those days, so according to some of the pictures I have seen, the coast would have been populated by smartly-dressed English genteel, who would have been offended by the sight of too much flesh exposed.

 

With their tight formal dress, I have wondered whether our hot Summers are a modern phenomenon, because the weather always looked so dull in these illustrations! But assuming that hot Summers were as prevalent in those days as at present, these people certainly knew how to endure their body heat in such constricting attire. It was such a vivid contrast to the present day, when during a typical weekday, we saw no more than half a dozen neck-ties worn, out of multiple thousands of males, many with just a tank top, vest or singlet. As we heard several times a swear word floating in the air, I could not help but ponder on the tiny percentage who regularly attend church, a massive contrast to the bygone days when Sunday church-going was all but mandatory for everyone.

 

Then I recall my own childhood days as a boy, wearing a suit and tie whenever we attended church. I also recall the day when I took the first Holy Communion at age thirteen - I have a picture of myself resembling a groom at a wedding. Then putting it all together, to me, there has always been a strong connection between formal attire and regular church attendance.

 

Do the average unbeliever or un-churched really think this? I have to admit that I don't really know for sure. But this was one main reason why I was very anti-church during my later teenage years. And going by the way the Victorians dress and their majority who attended church, indeed - if he was alive on earth today, I couldn't help but imagine Jesus walking along the promenade with a permanent scowl, judging and condemning the entire population for their skimpy attire, being drunk, swearing, having fun, and not attending church each week. To add to this, he would also condemn those who attend church dressed informally, with either tee-shirts, or open-neck shirts without a tie, and the ladies attending wearing low neckline attire and lacking a headscarf. As my father-in-law once said to me: attending church in casual dress, to him, is being disrespectful to the Lord.

 

And how would the Lord respond to the huge beach party with its barbecues and late-night swimming? And heaven forbid, not to mention the fun-fair, with its flesh-centred sensuality. Would he mingle around in his wrath, looking for at least one person formally dressed in Victorian attire, or at least in modern suit and tie? And not finding at least one "righteous" person, let alone ten, (Genesis 18:32) - would he call upon Heaven to send down fire and destroy them all? Or preach a loud message of judgement? Or at least turn his back and walk away, letting them all perish in their own iniquity?

 

No, not at all! I think it would be just the opposite. If Jesus was around at the massive beach party, what he would have wanted to do was to attract their attention in order to gracefully shower love, healing and forgiveness of sins abundantly. So the following scenario is what I personally believe what might have occurred if Jesus Christ was present that night:

At first, he would select someone with an infirmity, such as my wife in the wheelchair, with the right time and place set by his Father in Heaven. Then he would perform a healing miracle, purposely in the crowd, to attract attention. With growing astonishment together with an equally growing sense of curiosity among those who witnessed the miracle, two, three, maybe even four with physical disabilities approached him and they were all healed. With attention fixed on him, he would begin to preach - not  with a judgemental attitude, but with a smile, his words flowing with grace and meekness. Eventually, one of the many groups in the crowd would ask him to join them at their barbecue. As he sits by the fire, he takes a roll, a couple of beefburgers, and after bowing his head in prayer, instructs the group in charge of the barbecue fire to distribute to all who wishes to partake. Then by the fireside, he preaches the Kingdom of Heaven, the reality of sin, the need for forgiveness, and the need to believe in him alone in order to enter Heaven. Rather than condemn the beach party, he offers something more richer, more permanent, and with the ability to face up to life's adversities - living water, welling out of the belly of all who believe, and eternal life. As a result, a great many in the crowd would turn and follow him.

Then by chance a coach pulls up nearby, and around fifty immaculately dressed ladies and gentlemen alight to make their way to the pier. Their attention was instead drawn to the crowd on the beach beside the pier. After listening to Jesus preach and perform miracles for an hour or two, they all conclude that this man cannot be from God, because he mixes with the common rabble with their skimpy singlets and topless torsos. Furthermore, he actually makes friends with foreigners, and with the lowlife scum who most likely had never seen the inside of a church. This was an insult to their own nationality, their religion, and their own righteousness. Didn't they go to church Sunday after Sunday without ever missing a week? And everyone attending always dressed immaculately in suits and ties of the finest tailoring, and the ladies in dresses with buttoned up necklines and wearing a headscarf. Weren't they very class conscious, making sure that they knew their place in society, and associated only with those of the same social stratum? Furthermore, they tut-tutted anything sensual, especially on the beach. As they sauntered along, their scowling faces watching with deep disapproval at a young, topless man hugging his bikini-clad girlfriend after both having had a swim in the sea. One of the gentlemen then called out:

Don't you have any manners, young man? It's about time you two attended church and learn some respectability!

In which his reply, containing vulgar language, was essentially saying to mind his own business. The gentleman, feeling rebuffed, reassured himself that he was doing the will of God, and Heaven was waiting for him, and such lowlife will suffer his own eternal doom.

The above was just a story, but I hope it brings out the differences between how Jesus would have re-acted in such an environment, and what I believe how many may perceive the churches to be like, a lot based on my own experience as a boy.

If Only...

After snorkeling in the warm waters of the Indian Ocean, exploring the rich coral reef turning the sea bed into a beautiful marine garden bustling with life, I eventually make my way to the wooden steps to the boardwalk set just above the calm surface of the turquoise water. Alex my wife runs along the platform, arms wide open in greeting me as if I had just returned from a far-away mission.

Together we saunter back to the thatched wooden hut which was our beach-side hotel accommodation on one of the islands of the Maldives. I felt peckish, but as Alex suggested a gentle stroll along the golden sand beach, I was willing to forgo any food for now and spend some time together. Especially when the sun was beating down from overhead at a cloudless sky.

As we sauntered along the beach, with the sea gently lapping, and backed by a forest of palm trees and other tropical bushes, we came to a group of young people, three couples to be precise. The three men looked fit, their bronze topless torsos reflecting the sunlight from their glossy skins. In turn, the women were equally bronzed by the sun, even in their bikini swimsuits. In the midst of them was a barbecue stove emitting an appetite-stirring aroma of sausages and beefburgers. As we were about to pass them by, one of them stopped us in our tracks by asking why not join them in the feast. He also assured us that there was plenty to go around, therefore there was no need to economise.

Alex and I looked at each other and both of us agreed to the fellow's invitation. We took our places among them and sat down in their midst.

I perceived that they were not from the UK, or at least not from the London area or the Home Counties. This I surmised from the accent the young man spoke with, even if his English was good. Where they were from was not of my concern, so I let it pass by.

"It's so nice of you to invite us." I said, to open a conversation.
"Of course," the one sitting next to me responded. "We are family."
"Family?" I was curious.
"Yes, family. All of us here love the Lord Jesus, and I know for sure that had he been here in person, he would have invited all of us."
"So you're Christian? I too..."
"We already know, all of us. It stood out from both of you when you were strolling towards us."
The speaker then put his arm around me and gave me a hug. I hugged him too and said that it was really nice to meet him and his friends.

Then enough curiosity got the better of me to make me ask, "What do you all do?"
"We are university graduates. Mike over there wants to achieve a doctorate and become a medical doctor, Dave wants to become a barrister and I wish to pursue journalism. Our girlfriends have similar ambitions."

I felt my face redden, and it was not from the sun.

"I'm just a window cleaner, Alex here keeps the home. In the past this was known as 'housewife.'" I muttered with a degree of embarrassment. "We are absolutely fortunate that we are here, in this beautiful paradise of an island."

Mike looked at me what seems to be with a degree of envy. I found this a little disturbing. Then the student confirmed how he felt.

I envy you, both of you." he declared.
"Whatever for?" I gasped in surprise. "Gosh, if I was given a chance to become a doctor, I would be fulfilling my childhood dreams!"

"It's not that." Mike replied. "It's what Jesus and Paul said and wrote."
"Er, what?" I asked.
"Jesus said on one occasion that he who is least among us would become the greatest in the Kingdom of God, and on another occasion he said that the last shall be first and the first, last."
"Yes, I read those sayings." I replied.
"Then Paul also wrote that the foolish things in the world will confound the wise." Mike finished.
"So what are you saying?
"We are saying that you should not be ashamed of your occupation, for if you please God, he will reward you richly."

I was rather aghast! In all the years of being in the faith, I have not heard that before.
"But surely, God will reward you as well. He is not into favouritism." I answered.
"No, he is not into favouritism." Steve confirmed. "But because he has given us greater responsibilities, so his judgement on how we had stewarded his goods will be far more severe."
"So you're not into social class then? Many back at home seem to be obsessed by it."
"No, definitely not." Steve answered. "To all of us, serving God is our greatest priority. Remember, his love for us when we were helpless was so great, that he sent his Son to suffer and die for us, so we could be redeemed. Social class does not come into the equation."
"Gosh!" I exclaimed as I turned to my wife Alex. "These guys have some wisdom."

Then again curious, I asked, "You say you are all boyfriends and girlfriends? Does this create a problem with hotel accommodation?"
"Our hotel is just behind those trees." Steve answered, as he pointed to the opposite direction from where our thatched hut was. "But booking was not a problem. We have two huts, one for us and the other for our girlfriends. In this we keep ourselves disciplined, and we found the holiday to be richly enjoyable. There has not been a single disagreement between us."

Then David, who had so far been quiet since we were invited, stood up and tended the barbecue stove. Then he announced that the food was ready, and he began to insert the sausages and beefburgers into cut rolls of bread. As we were the guests, we were served first, and as I reached out to take the roll, I suddenly found myself in bed in our semi-dark bedroom.

Yea, it was all just a dream...

Alex was still asleep beside me as my heart fell at the sight of my own bedroom here at home in the UK. At daybreak I had to attend an assessment at a London hospital, so I declared it a day off from work, which, I have to admit, made me feel better after having such a wonderful dream with such a rotten anticlimax! After all, a day off to break the monotony of daily window cleaning in the thick of winter was most welcoming.

The chilly wind blew through the station, its design and construction making the station itself a wind tunnel, as one side had a wall topped by trees and the other, a high office block which sits over the station entrance. With the cold easterly wind, occasional snow flurries blowing in the air, the current weather making us all concerned whether the whole nation would grind to a halt yet again due to an inch of snow on the ground.

Bracknell Railway Station

The platform I was standing had a large number of men in suits waiting for the delayed train to arrive. While the wait was seemingly long, the voice of the station manager crackled through the speakers:
"The o-seven eighteen to London Waterloo will be twenty minutes late. We apologise for the delay. This is due to staffing problems."

Staffing problems. In other words, the driver scheduled to bring this train here was still in bed! So they had to call another driver who was originally meant to take the next train out. I surveyed the platform. The guys in their suits were either stone deaf or because of such British stoicism, no one stirred or said a word. There were no protest or any grumbling heard. It seemed to me that delayed trains were a normal way of life for them.

As not being a regular commuter, I muttered something about being stuck here in the cold and the threat of being late for my appointment. One of the well dressed men gave me that unpleasant look from the corner of his eye, and walked off to the far end of the platform. So much for encouragement.

On board the late train, I managed to find an empty seat. Just as well, as further down the line, later boarding commuters had to stand in the central aisle. It was almost eerie. Not a single vocal conversation could be heard, not a greeting, a good morning or asking how you are today. Above the mechanical sound of solid steel wheels rolling on solid steel rails, the only sounds heard were the rattling of the newspaper as one turned the page, along with the shuffling of well shod feet and thick sleeved arms, an occasional harrumph of a cough, the unwrapping of a sweet wrapper and perhaps, once the train had halted at a red signal, a distant dssst-dssst of a personal earphone player.

I allowed my head roll from side to side as I closed my eyes and looked back at another train journey I completed way back in 1974. Only this was in Italy, on a route from Foggia to Napoli (Naples) during one of my early backpacking days. The carriage at the time was the old compartmental type with a side corridor. I boarded at Foggia and walked through the corridor looking for a vacant seat. Within each compartment people was happily talking to each other, a torrent of almost incomprehensible Italian constantly filling the air. I found one empty seat by the window in one compartment already occupied a three Catholic nuns on one side and two young guys on the other, where I was about to sit.

I recall a conversation developing between myself and the nun opposite me. I told her in broken Italian that I was from England and I was touring the country. She was very impressed and she even offered me a sweet (candy). Also impressed was the young guy sitting next to me, who took over the conversation with me from the nun and plied me with questions, particularly where I'll be staying in Napoli and whether he can come round to see me again. After arriving at the city terminus, the young man, whose name was Claudio, and I made our way to the hotel where I stayed the previous year. He made sure that I was fully booked in before leaving. Two days later he, with another fellow and two young women made a group of five and spent the day together, including a cable-car ride up the slopes of Mt. Faito, paid on my behalf by my new friend. It was a beginning of a good friendship. Not much different from the dream of the Maldives.

I relate these two train journeys as both are true stories. However, the generosity shown by the people in the Maldives dream was based on a near identical true-life experience I had when staying at a hostel in Australia, back in 1997. At the hostel there were two Italian brothers who invited me to share in the dinner they have cooked and provided. This together with the southern Italian train journey, seem to show a contrast between British culture and those of other countries, particularly those at or close to the Mediterranean.

We in England pride ourselves as being a Christian country. The Church of England has its headquarters at the imposing Canterbury Cathedral, with the Archbishop being second only to the Queen herself, who holds the title of Defender of the Faith, dating back to the days of King Henry VIII. The English Tourist Board relies on the abundance of cathedrals and old churches scattered throughout the land, the more famous being St Paul's Cathedral and Westminster Abbey, both in London, the city where these stoic but unfriendly commuters heading each working day morning.

Then the obsession with social class. In the Bible we read about Jesus endorsing the truth that the least among us will be great in his Kingdom, and the first will be last, and the last, first - and so on. But our culture, based on Christian morals, has reversed the order, with the great being first and the least being last. I have also seen, over the years, the general rejection brought on by some because I don't quite fit in. Many times I receive that hostile look, often from the working classes, their avoidance of my presence, whispering and gossip behind my back, their general dislike, yet no one has ever come over to me with the problem, perhaps fearing that the truth about me might rumble them.

The English pre-occupation with social class was brought home to me by the BBC, which gave a report that the traditional three tier system has now developed into a seven tier system, based on one's education level, type of occupation, salary and property ownership. At the top end we now have the Elite, with their private education, very high salary and homeowner. At the bottom there is the Precariat, to which I belong, after taking the BBC online test. These are the ones who didn't do well at school, either labour or rely on State benefit for an income, and who is a Council tenant (Public housing.)

 John Cleese, Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett symbolising the English class system of the 1960s.

It looks to me that the well structured social class system here in the UK is at odds with the Bible, yet this country claims to follow Christian principles. So what would the best course of action I should take in this country's contradicting culture?

The one and only answer for a believer such as myself is to be constantly filled with the Holy Spirit, and through knowledge of the Bible, allowing Him to guide me, even if this involves swimming against our cultural current. This involves being friendly and ready to be open and hospitable even in such an environment as a morning commuter train. It means having an open door and not feel redundant to give to those genuinely in need. But most of all, to be able to love those who are otherwise impossible to love. And that is a divine miracle, wherever I'm at a golden, sun-kissed beach in the Maldives, or under an overcast sky in the streets of London.
And I can only achieve this through the power of the Holy Spirit. After all, why should only the Italians get the credit in applying Bible principles?