Travel Biography - Week 101.

A Stag Night in England versus Ibiza.

Here we go again! As I read through the pages of today's Daily Mail national newspaper - this particular media aimed at a conservative middle-class society that is interested in every aspect of the Royal Family, politicians and wealthy celebrities, there is another two-page spread about us Brits on holiday, this time, at the Spanish Balearic island of Ibiza. This week, the article was written by the journalist Jane Fryer whilst in San Antonio, observing mainly the female tourists, "scantily dressed, and worn down by endless drinking, drug-taking, vomiting, fighting, and sex in the streets, along with inevitable hospitalisations..."

She then includes one example of a groom at a stag night party, leaving me wondering whether he would ever make it to the church on time. Should the reader think I'm one of those sad, prudish individuals who had never cracked a smile, I recall my stag night back in 1999. After I was treated to a slap-up meal at a restaurant in another town several miles from home, I was then taken outside and handcuffed to a sturdy metal railing of a garden fence and had water thrown over me. Then all my mates ran off and hid, leaving me drenched and immobile in the deserted street whilst they hid and watched from a distance.

But I wasn't drunk, as I hardly touched any alcohol that evening, save a glass of wine, perhaps. I wasn't sick, I didn't vomit, and I was fully dressed. Thank goodness. One of my mates, after handcuffing me, wanted to pull down my trousers as well, but the others didn't agree to that. Furthermore, I didn't see the inside of a police station or a hospital. Furthermore, there were no hard feelings. Rather, I was still in high spirits yet nervous for the coming wedding a week later.

Arriving at Santa Barbara, California.

At State Street, Santa Barbara.

An example of Spanish architecture.

An outdoor restaurant on State Street.

Yet, just over two years before that memorable night, I was at the AYH hostel in the Gaslamp Quarter of Downtown San Diego, preparing to leave the city to arrive at my next stop, Santa Barbara, 218 miles or 350 km north along the Californian coastline. For the first time, after 1977, 1978, and 1995, I didn't have a Greyhound Bus Ameripass ticket, leaving me with the need to pay the fare before boarding. Hence, interstate bus travel in 1997 was restricted, staying local to Los Angeles, where I would fly back to London after three weeks spent in California.

The journey from San Diego to Santa Barbara wasn't direct but necessitated a change of buses at the Los Angeles terminal. From here, I boarded the Los Angeles to San Francisco Americruiser which has a service stop at Santa Barbara. Los Angeles is almost halfway along the route. The distance north to Santa Barbara from L.A. is almost the same as from San Diego to the south.

Arriving at Santa Barbara.

As I was about to leave San Diego, like with Sydney, I didn't fully realise that this would be the last time I ever walked the streets of the city. The city bus terminal was still at the same location on Broadway, a few blocks east of the YMCA building. (The bus station had moved to a different location since.) Once boarded, I was on my way.

After alighting to change buses at L.A. and waiting a while before boarding, I was once again cruising along the route I was already familiar with, having travelled directly to San Francisco in bygone years. But unlike the previous overnight journeys done on this route, this was a daytime journey, having left San Diego during the late morning and arriving in Santa Barbara during the late afternoon or early evening.

After arriving at the Greyhound station and alighting, there were no adverts for hostels at the main foyer, as many bus stations have, including the one at San Diego. Therefore, I had to rely on the USA hostel guide I had, which I used in 1995. By then, it was already outdated. There was meant to be an AYH hostel just down the street from the terminal, but when I found the address, I saw that the hostel had closed down permanently. There was no alternative accommodation advertised, so I was left to look around the town.

And it took a long while. It was after someone suggested the hostel at East Ortega Street. It turned out to be a Banana Bungalow hostel, affiliated with Rucksackers North America, the first of its two hostels I stayed in California (the other being West Hollywood). It was housed in a disused military hut, a large arch-roofed chamber where the majority of occupants had a mattress arranged in two or three rows along the floor. However, for a higher fee per night, I was allocated a bed in one of the side bedrooms.

And that wasn't without an incident at the reception, located immediately at the entrance. The desk was staffed by two young men, I assume were the owners.

As I was greeted by one of them, and with the heavy rucksack on my back, I gasped, By heck, it took me a long while to find this place after arrival.

To which he replied, Oh! That's a great pity. All the beds here are taken.

When he saw the look of horror after so much searching, he broke into laughter and gave me a choice of the main hall or, with a higher fee, sleeping in a small side dormitory. I felt a great relief that he was only joking, and I was happy to pay a little extra for the dormitory bed.

Los Pedros provides a background for the Beach.

Pier Views.

At Santa Barbara Pier.

Pelican on the Pier.

The hostel was housed in a disused military hut, a building with an arched roof. Like all other hostels, whether affiliated with HI or Rucksackers, this one too had a member's kitchen with an outdoor verandah for the dining area. However, its downside was that it had only one single-occupant bathroom, creating a problem if I needed to use it. But for a place to sleep at night, the accommodation was adequate.

For the record, sometime after I stayed there, the hostel closed down, and the hut became a superstore before it was eventually demolished. This backed the warning on the front page of the guide. American hostels often have a short lifespan before closing and the building is sold or demolished. However, some have survived to this day, including San Diego Downtown on Market Street, West Hollywood Banana Bungalow and even its sister in San Diego.

Those staying at the hostel were mostly men, although there were a few women as well. Among fellow backpackers was a British chap who was studying to be a psychiatrist, so he says, although he looked more like a mature student rather than a typical undergrad. And I was with a gay couple one evening in the kitchen whilst cooking dinner. Of all the residents there, the gay men were the only ones whom I sensed that I wasn't welcome by them, although they weren't hostile.

Like at Byron Bay hostel in New South Wales, here too, the staff laid special events for the guests. One of them was a beach volleyball contest one afternoon. However, when invited, I refused to join them. The memories of losing the table tennis at Arlie Beach in Queensland, followed by a thrashing I received at snooker at Coffs Harbour, NSW, had made me somewhat phobic with ball games. However, I partook in one of their evening suppers served by the staff, like at Byron Bay, and enjoyed a social.

Santa Barbara is a coastal town with a wide sandy beach crossed by a pleasure pier. The main shopping precinct lines State Street, through which Ortega Street crosses at right angles as with all symmetrical grid layouts. Like San Diego, Santa Barbara is a handsome, subtropical city backed by the mountains of the Los Pedros National Forest and the foothills of the Rockies. At the city railroad station, an Amtrack train remained stationary at one of its sidings.

I spent three nights in Santa Barbara, or four days in all. As far as I remember, there was no SeaWorld or zoo, but the pier did house a small aquarium. However, one advantage Santa Barbara had that San Diego hadn't, was the mountainous countryside visible in the background, the Los Pedros National Forest.

One day, while I was browsing in a bookshop, I went to the local attraction shelf. Among the books there, there was a guide on hiking trails around Los Pedros National Forest. The nearest trailhead from the city goes up Rattlesnake Canyon to Flores Peak, from there, magnificent views of the city and the coastal region can be seen and enjoyed. However, the guide also warned me that a certain bug - a variation of the tick, if bitten, could end up having Lyme Disease. And medical treatment in the USA isn't cheap!

As I left the shop and headed for the beach, I thought about these things. While I was in the bookshop, I also came across a fiction story, 2001 A Space Odyssey by Arthur C. Clarke, and I bought the book. Having seen the film by Stanley Kubrick, I thought having a read would help pass the time during quiet moments. Also, at the pier, there was a jukebox with a selection of Northsounds CDs and cassette tapes. Not having a CD player at home during 1997, I was interested in some of the cassette tapes. One disc with its corresponding tape was Pachelbel Ocean, that is, Canon in D Major, with the sound of ocean waves crashing on the beach in the background.

I bought the cassette tape, along with two others I also like. Since then, I have always regretted not buying the CD versions. The tapes are no longer functional. Had I bought the CDs in addition to the tapes, chances I could enjoy such music now, reviving memories, especially of the Great Barrier Reef, whose picture adorned the lid of the cassette and disc cases. Oh, the lack of foresight!

A walk along the beach.

More Pier Views.

An Art Sale at a park.

An Amtrack train at the sidings, Santa Barbara.

Walking along State Street, the "High Street" of Santa Barbara and the hub of the shopping precinct, there were shops with these inflatable aliens on display. Not merely one shop but several shops in one street had them on display. They all looked the same - a humanoid with a large head on a skinny bipedal body with two skinny arms. Its face consists of two very large eye sockets, a tiny nose and a tiny mouth, not unlike a coin slot. The creature seems to indicate an advance in evolution with little use of food consumption and digestion, yet with vision and intelligence vastly superior to ours. What is this obsession with extraterrestrials? Are they seen as potential cosmic saviours with the power to save us from ourselves?

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Next Week: Hiking up Rattlesnake Canyon.

Abraham the Backpacker

Abraham is one character I have always admired in the Old Testament. Maybe because he comes over as a very ordinary person, with fears, doubts and anxieties - and not with a heroism matching a faith superstar, nor as a "super-spiritual" who finds it easy to keep temptation out of his head and to abstain from every form of sinning. Abraham never had the opportunity to be "super-spiritual" - you may know of the kind - the one who shun the beach because of the presence of bikini-clad women, avoid the fairground for its worldly pleasures, and also staying away from the theatre as being the hub of sensuality, the one who keeps a record library of traditional hymns and spiritual songs as well as classical music, but with not a single rock, pop, or soul record to be found among his collection, and definitely no television in his house. The only secular books he would allow his children to read are educational. And glossy magazines? Don't even think about them! Such a person would find making and keeping friends very difficult indeed! Respect? Yes, to a certain extent. Intimacy would be a different matter altogether. Pie in the sky? I have met men who came close to such criteria. And one of them was kicked out of church eldership for committing adultery.

 

Nomadic Abraham had none of these modern conveniences, but he was a real person with real feelings. The Scripture tells us that he did throw a party to celebrate the weaning of his son Isaac (Genesis 21:8) and no doubt, there was music and entertainment. Yet we read that God, by sovereign grace, had chosen him, loved him, and most important of all, acquitted him from all sin and imputed his own righteousness - just for believing that he will be a birth father one day. Yet we read at least on two occasions his fears and apprehensions when it came to foreign travel. He believed that both the Egyptian king, and some time later the king of Gerah, were about to take his wife Sarah to add to their harem, so in fear of being killed, he lied to them, calling her his sister and practically disowning her, and that despite God's already revealed promises. To add to this, the 15th chapter of Genesis opens with God calming his fears. Reading about various points in is life, it doesn't seem too difficult to see that Abraham had a fear of the future, a lack of trust in other people, and the feeling of uncertainty in his heart, and he would have had to learn, bit by bit, how to trust in the Lord who initially called him from his comfy home in Shinar.

 

We read how he was encouraged by his father Terah's presence as he journeyed west to Canaan, and after the death of his father, he found security in the company of his nephew Lot by his side, along with his wife and his two daughters. So secure had he felt towards Lot and his family that God allowed a shortage of resources to occur between uncle and nephew, forcing them to dwell apart, with Lot choosing the lush valley surrounding Sodom. Abraham had to learn to lean on God rather than on family members.

 

In a sense, Abraham was well suited to his nomadic lifestyle. No doubt that way of living was free from the complexities that affect our way of life, such as fuel bills, getting into debt, taxes, mortgage payments, rent, the daily commute, holding down a job, threat of redundancy, the need for higher education, unemployment, and so forth. Abraham had none of all that, but neither did he have what we call the Bible today. Instead, his faith was entirely dependent on repeated revelations from God.

Although Abraham was generally fearful, I had wondered whether the simple nomadic life was more fulfilling than the complex lifestyles that exist at present, with all the mod-cons. Ever since I bought a laptop computer and had it connected to the Internet, it became a gadget I couldn't do without. Yet I was in my late fifties at the time I first bought it. How on earth did I manage all those years without the Internet? Yet I did. Activities such as participation in competitive sports like the Triathlon (Swim, Cycle, and Run) allowed me to get out of doors during the weekend, as well as being a paid-up member of a triathlon club, where we were just as committed to the Friday night social as the training programmes themselves. Other times, when there was nothing worth watching on TV, often I poured into reading books, both fiction and non-fiction, and this in itself became a prerequisite for future blogging, as well as grasping on general knowledge I missed out on at school.

Travel was something both Abraham and I had in common, along with the need for both of us depending on God's protection. I needed God's protection at the time I walked through East 7th Street of Los Angeles one evening in 1995, on my way to the Greyhound Bus Station from Santa Monica, carrying a rucksack, while gangs of Afro-Caribbeans lolled around the front doors of their homes. And divine protection I received, for although some characters looked shady, no-one batted an eyelid at me. In turn, on two occasions, Abraham feared being killed, and had his wife Sarah taken from him, he was weary of Canaanite inhabitants surrounding his camp, yet he was brave enough to rescue Lot from invading marauding forces and with God's help, defeated them and repopulated the captured city of Sodom.

Where travel is concerned, I can compare flying halfway round the world with long distance hiking.  I have found by experience that long distance hiking, cross-country cycling, and national and international train travel were no less fulfilling than air travel. As a matter of fact, I have found slow surface travel to be more exhilarating than sitting cocooned inside an airtight bottle several miles above ground. Little wonder that planning a holiday or vacation can be stressful, what with the need of having correct documents, tickets, long queues at airports, tight security including body search, flight delays and cancellations, industrial disputes, threat of illness, overbooked hotels, all eating into the joy of travel. All Abraham did was to un-pitch his tent, load it on a donkey, and move to fresh fertile ground. He must have done quite well. There are at least seven hundred miles 1,134 km between his home town of Ur of the Chaldeans and the Jebusite city of Jerusalem. That's the equivalent of hiking from London UK to Genova, well within the boundary of Italy. Not to mention various hikes up and down the land of Canaan, making his travels closer to a thousand miles.

Here is the irony. When Abraham and his fellow campers felt they had to move on for the want of fresh pasture, they simply packed everything away and moved on. None of the bureaucratic hassle which accompanies modern travel. But just a threat of an air strike, or a sneeze, or even the possibility of rain at the holiday destination, and we're prone to panic. A few years ago, thousands of foreign holidays were wiped out as a result of a volcanic eruption in Iceland. This being Britain, I hardly heard a murmur in the streets, but I wouldn't mind betting that behind closed doors there was much distress coming out of would-be travellers. Or going back to 1978, when the French Air Traffic Control strike crippled all flights across Europe. As I was at the departure gate waiting to board the unaffected flight to New York, there was a roaring, blood curdling scream echoing through the wide airport corridor. A young man, about my age, was told through the tannoy to return to the departure lounge, having spent the previous night walking back and forth to the gate from the lounge due to a series of false calls to board the 'plane for Spain. As I boarded my own flight, I watched a very sorry looking crowd of people saunter dismally once more back to the lounge. Just as well I paid more for a flight to New York. At least my airline took off right on time.

As he would have trekked across the wide hot desert on a train of camels, along with his family, servants, and all his livestock, I wonder how Abraham would have made of it all had he witnessed the ins and outs of modern travel? To add to all this, our dependence on TV, radio, the Internet, not to mention hospitals, along with mountains of highly sophisticated knowledge of science, mathematics, and other subjects. Then there is the matter of Holy Scripture. I cannot be dogmatic in saying that Abraham had no access to the Bible, as it was not yet written. He could have possessed the scroll, or a copy of a scroll detailing the lives of his ancestors, from Adam and Eve to Noah, the global deluge, and the ancestry of his family line and those of other nations. In other words, what we read as the early chapters of Genesis, most likely written by Shem, Ham, and Japheth (Genesis 10:1) in order to preserve the record of their ancestry for future generations. Therefore, I would say that the only way for Abraham's faith to grow would have been by direct revelation from God himself. A good example of this was the appearance of three men to announce to him that his wife Sarah will give birth to a son in about a year from their visit (Genesis 18.)

I guess we are the far more fortunate ones. We have the entire Bible, within containing the Three Powerful Witnesses (see my last blog) as well as the life and works of Jesus Christ told four times, the history of the beginnings and rise of the early church, and all the letters written by the apostles. Abraham had none of these. In Genesis 15:1, God had to reassure Abraham personally not to fear or be anxious, for God himself is his shield. Without the Bible, the only way God spoke to him was most likely audibly. Abraham never had the chance to read these precious words that were promised to us:

What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all - how will he not also, along with him, gracious give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those who God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died - more than that, who was raised to life - is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:

For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:31-39.

All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men's sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation.
2 Corinthians 5:18-19.

That is wonderful news. If only Abraham knew how much he was in Christ as we are, for he was equally acquitted. I'm so thankful to God that we have easy access to the entire Bible in one book, and not row upon row of separate scrolls, as was the time of Christ and the apostles. We have the best things God can offer, not only in the spiritual realm but also in the physical realm. I have always been thankful to the Lord for giving me the privilege of world travel, as far wide as California at one end, and Australia at the other. But even more fulfilling were the trips I made to the Holy Land. Imagine how it felt like staying at a backpacker's hostel in the heart of the Old City of Jerusalem, an area so familiar to Jesus Christ and the apostles. Imagine what it was like standing inside the Dome of the Rock and touching the very stone where Abraham offered to sacrifice his son Isaac, and then hearing God call out from Heaven. Imagine how Solomon's Temple might have looked on that very site, and the Second Temple at the time of Jesus.

God was with Abraham throughout his life. Even before he was born, God knew him. God knew him before the world itself was made and Adam was still dust on the ground. Yet despite all of the patriarch weaknesses, God had never forsaken him. Abraham was as much once saved always saved as we are.

If God took so much care of Abraham, even to the site of his burial, would he not be the same with us? That is grace, wonderful grace. Knowing that God loves us in Christ Jesus, he does not impute sin, but imputes the righteousness of Christ in us. That's why we can never ever be lost again. The righteousness of Christ, setting us free from the burden of trying to keep the Law. My own experience that if I perform to "stay saved" or to "remain in Christ by staying faithful" - then I am back under the Law. That is, I must perform to stay saved, there is something I must do, that is, to endure. Under such thinking I'm doomed to failure, simply because that even if I keep the Law, but stumble at just one point, then I have broken the entire Law, and doomed for judgement (James 2:10). Rather, in Christ I'm loved unconditionally, saved forever in my Father's arms.

Even if I don't act like it. Even if I get angry at someone. Even if I curse and swear. Even if I tell a dirty joke. Even if I watch porn on TV, on the Internet, or browse through glossy magazines. Even if I gaze at the bikini-clad female sunbathing on the beach. Even if I spend a day at the fun fair. Even when I prefer hard rock music to hearing spiritual songs. Even when feeling depressed. In Jesus Christ I'll be forever in my Father's arms, safe and secure.

But wait! Doesn't the New Testament exhort us to lead holy lives?

That is for the next blog.  

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.

Yes It's Raining - And We Love It!

Last week I took my wife Alex to Torquay in Devon, after accepting a recommendation to visit Torquay from Keith, a very good friend of mine who grew up in Devon. This particular area of the United Kingdom is also known as The English Riviera, because of the remarkably mild winters, allowing various species of palm trees and other vegetation, particularly from the Mediterranean, to flourish there.

We had just one day when the weather was warm, dry and sunny. The sea sparkled blue, the trees lush, people were in a good mood and our spirits were high. And I thanked God for such lovely weather we were able to enjoy while we set off on a day-hike on the South Devon Coast Path, a section of the West Coast Path, a hiking trail stretching 630 miles (1,020 km) from Studland Bay in Dorset to Minehead in Somerset.

However, two days later, dawn came with an overcast sky, and as soon as we set off for a day out, it began to rain, and it rained moderate to heavy all day with hardly a respite.

Our cool temperate climate here in the UK is always the talk of the town. In fact, I can go as far to say that a comment about the weather is a form of greeting between two passing strangers, and it is a good ice-breaker when in need to start a conversation. This is because, unlike the Mediterranean, which has long dry summers, our weather is constantly changing from one day to the next. I would go as far to say that declaring a drought after a couple of days of sunshine is now a standing joke.

After two or three months of frequent rain, our media is already describing our summer as "a total washout," together with "gloomy Britain," and statistically "the wettest June since records began," and "a month's rain in 24 hours." On the BBC weather forecasting, the attitude of the presenter is always to pray away the rain and, "we look forward for some sunshine over the weekend." If the Met Office cannot dish out the sunshine, then the BBC forecast for rain is often delivered with an apologetic tone of voice. Then among the academics, there was first the warning of global cooling, with the threat that we were about to enter a new Ice Age. Then a few years later, it was global warming, both caused by man-made pollutants pumped daily into our atmosphere. Nowadays, the issue is climate change, after a series of cool British summers seem to belie any idea that our planet was getting warmer. Whichever term the academics are giving to our climate situation, the message is clear: a climatic Armageddon is just around the corner, and it will be upon us if we don't act quickly enough.

At times I wonder how did such ideas originate? As far as I recall, our climate had always been changeable. Hot, dry weather hardly ever outlasted a week here in the UK, with just a rare occasion of such weather lasting up to a month. Even in the art world, English scenery painted in bygone ages often depict wet weather, as if just as normal then as now. So why all this talk and statistics about our present climate?

Personally, I believe this to be linked with our ability to travel internationally for leisure, something past generations were denied. And as Mediterranean countries opened their doors for tourism in the 1960s, so it became a natural habit to compare their climate favourably against ours. So international tourism grew to be such a successful business, until it is only second to Defence in being the largest service industry in the UK.

The British are crying out for sunshine, it seems, as if their lives depend on it. Just a couple of days ago the Daily Express national newspaper carried a threat of an airport strike corresponding to the holiday getaway after the end of school term. The front-page headline said in words depicting the "sheer misery added to thousands of holidaymakers looking for some sunshine after weeks of gloom here in Britain..."  Such is the adversity we feel towards wet weather.

But do we as Christians need to feel that way?

My wife and I had spent three full days in Devon, not including the two additional days set aside for the train journeys. On day one, we had wall-to-wall sunshine, strong enough to burn our skins red. As already mentioned, we day-hiked on the South Devon Coast Path. For us, it was heaven. Then on the second day we took a ferry to sail across the bay to a fishing town of Brixham. Then the sky was overcast all day but still mainly dry. By evening of that day a wind has started to blow, making the return sailing turbulent as the boat tossed about on the rising waves. Standing outside on deck, holding tight to the railing with the sea just two or three feet below, I swayed with the boat and looked out to sea, to prevent seasickness. I loved it. During that experience, I thought about the prophet Jonas out at sea during an even greater storm. How he would have felt on board that rocking ship, not having gone out to sea ever in his entire life, as seafaring was not part of Jewish life and culture during Old Testament times.

Then on the third day, (also suggested by my good mate Keith,) we decided on a visit to a nearby village of Cockington, basically an open air museum of how life was like during Victorian days, with craft workshops in full operation, particularly in glass-blowing. The wind of the previous evening brought the rain, and it rained moderate to heavy throughout the entire day. It was easy for us to feel gloomy in such an environment, with all the lovely colours of trees, leaves, flowers and the general surroundings turned to various shades of grey. But did we feel "let down" by God?

Standing by the stream near Cockington, Devon. The orbs are raindrops.

Not at all! First we needed to consider our state of health. My wife's skin, especially at her forehead, had turned red from the full day's sunshine, and further sunshine would have brought greater discomfort, maybe affecting her health altogether. But on the positive side, the path to the village passed through a park which had a stream (or a creek) running alongside the path, which became a boardwalk when ever the stream meandered underneath it. The rain had swelled the stream to full flow, and to me there is something very spiritual about a fast flowing brook. Both path and stream were at the foot of a forest-covered hill, with branches of trees providing some form of shelter from the rain.

When we arrived at the village church, we went inside and I knelt down and gave thanks to God for all his goodness, including the rain, which plays a major role in sustaining life by feeding our rivers, lakes and reservoirs as well as turning all the lovely vegetation around us to a deep, rich green, a sign of good health. When we arrived back at the beach, I practically danced and rejoiced in the goodness of God, no matter how ugly and unattractive the weather had made the coastline to be. Although it rained hard, we sauntered back into Torquay town centre in high spirits, to look forward to the plate of hot steak and kidney pie and potato chips (fries) at a local fish restaurant.

With seaweed for company, we felt jubilation as it rained on the beach.

Wet weather can easily get us down and make us feel depressed and gloomy. Public opinion, backed by the Media, endorse this, and has led to the sprouting of a highly prosperous tourism industry, with multiple millions of Brits heading for sunshine every year. But the cool temperate climate of the UK is due to its rather isolated position between the vast Atlantic Ocean on one side, and the North Sea on the other. Britain is also at the right lateral position for the warm, moist air carried by the North Atlantic Drift to meet the cold Polar air, resulting in these low pressure swirls which brings the rain. Because this is a fallen world due to sin our present global climate, including our cool temperate, is the best to sustain all life. For a new, better creation to come into being, God will have to intervene and put away sin forever and to usher in perfect righteousness. This is the definite promise that only God will keep and fulfil. And for everyone who have believed on the name of Jesus Christ for salvation can look forward to an eternity with God in a magnificent new creation which will never be spoilt by sin again.

Nor for that matter, wet weather.