Yes, So It's Winter - Yet Again...

Oh, the joys of Winter! I remember at one point before retirement, indeed, even before 2010, I sat on a low wall on a particularly cold day. The ladders lay on the sidewalk, the bucket of warm water also stood nearby. There I sat, shivering with cold, yet a strong sense of envy was eating me up and draining my energy from work. And it was only ten in the morning.

That's the advantage of having been a self-employed domestic window cleaner. Under my own steam, I can just sit there and indulge in my own despot of envy, allowing vivid images of the check-in desk at Heathrow Airport, and visualising four people preparing to board their flight to Singapore. As I sat there alone, at least for once I was grateful for not sitting in a busy office under the eye of a controlling bully of a boss. Instead, as it was, I was able to sit alone at a quiet housing estate, mulling at my thoughts and comparing the expectations of these four, consisting of two courting couples, with my own past experiences of world travel.

Window Cleaning, my former trade.

The two young men I knew personally. They were lifeguards of a local leisure pool in which features the spa suite, a facility I visited regularly every week, and my patronage there going as far back as 1992. One of them, Adam by name, was so proficient and so well skilled at his job, that he featured in our local newspaper, The Bracknell News. as the centre's best ever lifeguard. It was he, along with another mate and their girlfriends, who quit his job as a lifeguard to take a sabbatical Round-the-World backpacking trip featuring Singapore, Australia, New Zealand, and the USA.

Weeks of buildup led to that day, with Adam and I being friends on Facebook, I was able to post my own RTW experiences on the social site. But as I sat there mulling over my thoughts, I was wondering how sensitive some people could be. Here was a proficient lifeguard whose knowledge on lifesaving wasn't far below that of a paramedic, when he got offended with my jokey comment that the Sea Wasp is a jellyfish and not an insect. 

As a result, he quickly severed his ties with me, or "unfriended" me, and it has always remained a mystery to me how I had offended him. However, he did deliver some public posts informing us all that although he loved the Australian Pacific Coast, he wasn't impressed with New Zealand. As for the Great Barrier Reef, I can't recall any mention of it. Had his awareness of the Sea Wasp stung his usual confidence in the water? And to add to this, my realisation that Queensland during its summer months is subject to monsoons. Bah! No matter how hard I tried to shake off my envy of them by thinking about these things, I could still feel it.

Eventually, I got around the situation, got up and resumed work. Coming to think of it, the expenditure of physical energy cleaning windows is psychologically benefiting as well as keeping blood flowing through the muscles and creating body heat, a good combatant against cold weather. The Sea Wasp, better known as box jellyfish with their deadly sting, are in abundance at that time of the year. However, it's their inclusion of New Zealand basking in summer sunshine that has aroused my envy, with the salt of unfriending me just before take-off, adding to the wound.

On that particular day, I was working at an estate which has a high number of senior citizens. Throughout my business, I saw that pensioners made the best customers. I had found them to be more warm-hearted towards this lone itinerant tradesman, more generous with coffee and a biscuit, in addition, they were more trusting when allowing me into their kitchens to refill my pail, and they were never hesitant with payment or unnecessarily delaying to pay me. A few even got me to sit at their table after all their windows were cleaned, for coffee, a sandwich and a good chat. With such a friendly environment they gave me, it didn't take long for me to forget about those boys flying halfway around the world.

But working outdoors during winter was challenging. There was one street where nearly all its residents were at work, leaving each property empty of people, although an occasional dog barked. During the summer or when the air was mild, I was okay with that. But I recall one bitterly-cold Winter's day. With everyone out, I served one empty property after another. There was no source of fresh hot water. Indeed, I felt my hands turn blue with the cold as I kept on dipping them in cold, dirty water. I recall then packing everything away and going home early, during mid-afternoon. A refill with hot, clean water would have made all the difference!

And now, I read in a national newspaper that there is such thing as the most depressing day of the year, and it's either a Monday or a Tuesday in early January. I never heard of that before. I wonder where they got that from? However, perhaps the thought of the next quarter of long nights, short days, cold weather, the threat of a thin layer of snow bringing the country to a halt...

If that didn't have such an impact on our lives, I guess I would see the funny side. If the Council - heaven forbid - should forget to grit the roads beforehand or have not watched the Met Office forecast, then the chaos resulting when roads and their intersections turn into skid pans... hardly worth thinking about. Furthermore, trains were known to become marooned and even aeroplanes may not be able to take off. The fear or concern generated by the threat of a snowflake falling makes any anticipation for Spring more intense, along with catching flu or even a common cold, those dark days, long nights and the chilly wind from the Northeast - they all come around, year in, year out, but with the universal surprise it brings, I sometimes wonder whether it's the first time I realise that this cold season is annual.

Coral Reef Sauna Suite, my haunt since 1992.

Perhaps, it's since during Winter here in the UK, it's not every day that I open the bedroom curtains first thing in the morning to see a layer of falling snow covering our garden lawn, and lining the branches of the surrounding trees and bushes spectacularly. Yet, despite all the inconveniences posed upon modern transportation, such a wintry scene is so beautiful, so spectacular. The brilliance of the snow reflecting all the daylight back into the air makes even the contrast with the dull, overcast sky quite notable. Should the sky clear and the sun comes out, then how dazzling the scene is when romanticised into Christmas card fantasy.

And so I ponder at the mode of transport before the invention of the steam engine when horses ruled the day. These mammals were not afraid of the snow, they were able to pull the cart as easily as any Summer's day. No wheels were spinning on an icy patch while the vehicle remains stationary with the engine revving, filling the air behind it with a cloud of toxic fumes. There were no traffic queues stuck on the motorway with drivers phoning their bosses with an apology and a lame explanation why they will be late - if ever arriving at all. No, the guy sitting in a horsedrawn chariot overtakes them all as his beast trots happily along with the snow, leaving a trail of hoof-marks and cartwheel tracks behind.

Yet, from my bedroom window, I can admire the view of the snow-covered garden and ponder on why this stuff is so brilliantly white while any rainwater forming a puddle on concrete or on anything non-porous is as clear as crystal. Indeed, anyone who is good scientific knowledge can explain how water, when it freezes into accumulated snowflakes turns the whole scene brilliant white rather than remaining clear, yet even science can fail to explain why this happens, the beauty of each flake as it falls to the ground, each flake unique in itself, every one different - despite the vast numbers of them needed to cover a large field.

All this causes me to thank and glorify God for his creation rather than curse my fate at the steering wheel. Not that I can drive anyway - I have never owned a car driving licence, let alone a car itself. But as the snow on the road turns into dirty slush by a combination of partial melting and traffic pollution, I can't help but to wish away everything frozen, except ice cream of course, and long for Spring to arrive. After all, one of the positives to ponder on during this cold season is that the winter solstice is already behind us and the days are already becoming longer and the nights shorter. Furthermore, the Earth is at its perihelion, that is, it's closer to the sun in its orbit. No wonder Down Under, the Aussies has to apply a liberal amount of suncream on their bronzed torsos, else that dreaded mole will start burying into the skin, indicating Melanoma.

And so, another Winter's day arrives and with it, The Daily Mail national newspaper carries a story on two of its inside pages:

£44m Brexit success story to make Remoaners choke on their sea bass.*

The two-page article was written by journalist Robert Hardman in his How I see it series of articles. Checking on the text itself, Hardman himself does not use the word Remoaners, but Remainers. As far as the mechanics of the Press goes, the writer doesn't title his contribution. Rather, that's done by the editors. That is, by the newspaper itself. Indeed, I'm tempted to ask them, Is the Winter chill addling your brains?

As one who voted my support to remain in the European Union, the use of the word Remoaner in 2cm high lettering is an insult. I find it insulting because the word is purely detrimental. Furthermore, this isn't merely between two people talking in private. Rather, it's for the whole world to read.

And so, as the cold winter wind blows and blizzards are driven across the UK, those who voted to leave the EU will, sooner or later, find something to prove their point. And when one item is found, so the gloating begins. They look down on us Remainers with a condescending look as they turn up their noses, and if that's not enough, they then publicly insult us! Not a nice Christian attitude, is it? I wonder how Jesus would have reacted had he been around at present?

Earlier in the week, I emailed a message to two Christian people with a suggestion that an unclean spirit in the air has influenced Brexiteers with such subtlety, according to Ephesians 6:12, that even committed Christians who want to serve the Lord were also hoodwinked. With one of the recipients, that didn't go down well. But then, when I emailed those two, the headline hadn't yet appeared. 

Traffic slowed down by snow.

In an analogical sense, with the pandemic, lockdowns, hospitalisations, along with xenophobic, even racist attitudes, including physical and verbal violence, thus driving many Europeans back to their homelands, indeed, it's been a bleak winter - one that lasted for the past two years.

If we're about to go over the hill with the pandemic, at least there is, at last, hope that Spring is on its way.

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*Daily Mail Newspaper, Saturday, January 8th 2022, pages 50-51.

A Wild Fling of Imagination...

A typical weekday evening. You arrive home from work, tired, and the wife brings in a mug of soothing coffee as you sink into the comfortable sofa, facing the television which is already tuned in for the day's news bulletin. Just as with us when the news is about to start. We always watch the news on the BBC, as neither of us cares about advert breaks in the middle of the broadcast. Then after the main bulletin ends, the regional news begins.

And it was during one of these regional broadcasts, during the airing of a live report when all of a sudden the report was interrupted and the anchorwoman, Sally Taylor, appeared on the screen for between five and ten seconds without her knowing about it. She was looking away from the camera and gazing seriously at something which seemed to have caught her attention. Could it have been a bug crawling up the wall or a nearby piece of furniture or equipment? Or a spider, remaining stationary at that spot throughout the whole duration of the programme, maybe even for the whole evening? Or perhaps finding a spelling error in her notes?

It was that kind of unintentional whoopsie which adds that little more enhancement to life, the ability to smile when all around there is no reason to smile, as each gloomy item is delivered one after another from the newsdesk. But this unintentional error made by the screen controller has set my imagination racing as I ask, "What goes on at the newsdesk during a report, especially a long one delivered by a major foreign correspondent?"

Back in the eighties and nineties, it was normal for two anchormen to sit behind the newsdesk before the BBC decided to slim down on its budget. It was the perfect set-up for my imagination to run riot. Say, for example, that the headline is about a significant Middle East incident which is threatening the already fragile peace agreement at that part of the world. And so we watch the reporter standing in the cold, speaking into the camera, when all of a sudden, we're back at the newsdesk. And as the foreign correspondent drones away at his report, the two anchormen are caught larking about, totally oblivious of being on-air. Here I can imagine the late Peter Sissons, back then a smartly-dressed anchorman in his fifties, blowing chewing gum bubbles or laughing raucously at his companion blowing up a balloon which suddenly pops, throwing the smartly-dressed colleague back startled, and upsetting the glass of water all over his own trouser leg, much to Sisson's delight.

But immediately afterwards I see no more of the tomfoolery, for the controller, realising his mistake and with much embarrassment and in fear of losing his job, instantly switches back to the report. After the report concludes, who would ever guess, by the serious look on Sisson's face as he begins to deliver the next news item, bits of thin rubber are scattered across the studio and a huge wet patch remains hidden under the desk?

But it would have been too late. Poor Alex, sitting there and wondering what was so funny as she watches me literally rolling on the floor in uncontrollable laughter. But along with the amusing thought, would have been my curiosity on how the rest of the nation would have reacted. But going by experience, the nation watching would have been divided into two main groups: the men, rolling in uncontrolled laughter, and their wives and girlfriends looking with astonishment and wondering when their opposite gender will ever learn to grow up. Surely, anyone angry or upset with such a scenario must be of a small minority.

But it's just this, the boy in the man, something I wrote about before.* A very healthy psychological trait which, I believe, distracts from the stresses and disappointments life can throw at us, the doom-and-gloom spouted at us evening after evening, accompanied with ever-climbing graphs and continual lockdowns. With the gyms, swimming pools and spa suites closed, along with theatres, cinemas, pubs, bars, coffee houses, cafes and restaurants all closed, along with non-essential shops, indeed, I need some fun distraction to get my mind off the reality - that I can go into a garden centre to buy a gnome but unable to replace my worn shoes or a much-needed shirt should the time come.

And as such, I can take a real-life experience of the South Today broadcasting error and use my imagination to create a scenario set on a breach of a private moment. But such must be genuine, a bad mistake made unintentionally by the screen controller and followed by apologies from the BBC and not a deliberate put-on as characterised by any comedy show.

I can buy this little fellow but not a pair of shoes.

And all these sorrows caused by the pandemic with the new variant of the virus, couldn't have come at the worse time of the year - the Christmas season - that time of year when my beloved suffers a low mood, and often I do too, the setting in of Seasonal Affected Disorder, or SAD, an affliction I have been suffering for many years already. In addition to all this, on New Year's Day, Facebook was covered by posters submitted by Brexiteers rejoicing in their victory against those like me who would have preferred to have remained in the EU. And so they jump in victory as if England had just won the World Cup.

And so I can thank God in a sense that we're under strict lockdowns - or else I would have witnessed street parties held by Brexiteers, with St George flags and Union Jacks, mixing in the crowd to watch the fireworks display across the river. And their mantra: We've won. You've lost. So get over it! - and such chanted even by professed Christians and church-goers too, as they celebrate with the wicked, making this whole palaver into one mighty miracle that I hadn't ditched the faith and embraced atheism, as it looks to me, the latter doesn't seem to be going around chanting such slogans while they're denouncing the Bible to embrace Darwinism.

And such high hopes of a vaccine against this dreadful virus is diluted by news of supply shortages and tangles of red tape and bureaucracy. And so I now read that the most vulnerable of patients who had already received their first dose of the vaccine and were promised the second dose just three weeks later are now told that they must wait up to three months before they get the second jab. And I feel like tearing my hair out as I read that the making of the same vaccine in India was so efficient that their roll-out should proceed with ease. And that is a country with one of the highest population density in the world.

Thus, I can easily imagine a team of men wearing a suit and tie getting their sums disastrously wrong, and forcing our Government to change their minds over this vaccine roll-out. And the man in a suit - the archetypical Englishman whose high education, business success and resulting wealth and high social status make him the ideal icon for Brexiteers to aspire on a national level out of sheer pride, self-effort and determination. And so anyone who wished to have remained as an EU member is looked down upon with that awful, arrogant and patronising spirit which has no truck with the love, mercy and the grace of God, yet still embraced by some Christians.

Indeed, one offset is that we have left the EU with a last-minute deal which, I hope, will temper the potential dockside congestion caused by the new tariffs and paperwork which is now required for exporting and importing goods to and from the EU. And so the world turns, life must go on. As for me, any moaning done over Brexit must stop, indeed, by moaning, I cannot add a single cubit to my life, I must die exactly when appointed by God. Instead, I can pray that both Alex and I will be protected from infection.

And we can do more. That is the taking of a combined Vitamins C and D3 supplement which also include zinc, selenium and copper. Several respectable doctors on the Internet advocate the taking of Vitamin D3 as an additional supplement which they say is beneficial in keeping infection in check (but not as a cure) for all who live in the colder latitudes during the winter months. Although there may be others who disagree, personally, I feel that nothing is lost by taking them.

And so we stand and smile at the world, our faith firmly rooted in Christ, the Rock of our salvation. Okay, so it's mentally and emotionally healthy to allow the imagination to run riot, so to speak, of the incredible stupidity of formally-dressed newscasters making complete idiots of themselves when they thought nobody was watching them. Yet I know full well that this is just fantasy, with as much realism as watching Superman on the Big Screen. I enjoyed watching Superman on the Big Screen back in 1977 or 1978, but that does not mean scanning the sky every five minutes afterwards, but the movie did inspire a trip to the USA a short time later.

But as Alex and I have already agreed, it's not about the boy-in-the-man, nor Brexit or the pandemic. The whole idea of our existence is about being reconciled to God through faith in Jesus Christ. And so, despite our present circumstances, by God's grace and tender mercy, we will march on, not allowing anything to put us down but to turn to God for help and reassurance whenever we need to.

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*For my original blog about the boy-in-the-man, click here.

Easter Joy and a Facebook Shock.

This morning I went out to buy our weekly newspaper (which has the best TV guide any newspaper can offer) and then went on my daily walks. Such walks being vitally necessary to replace the regular swim and reduced cycling schedules, especially those weekly eight-mile round trips to church and back. And to replace my weekly session at Starbucks with its lovely and creamy, calorie-rich cappuccino coffee. Therefore, whether my health/weight would benefit - gaining the first and losing the second - only time would tell during this lockdown.

It was a beautiful morning. The sunshine bringing out the best in colours, such as the glossy green leaves of the Rhododendron lining either one or both sides of the footpath, various trees in the full bloom of white flowers while others have just budded into leaf, the green lawns matted with a carpet of daisies, and the warmth of the air allowing me to go out in Summer attire, that is, in shorts and a coloured tank-top or vest.

Easter. Or as someone calls it, Resurrection Day. It's perhaps the favourite time of the year, with Spring Equinox not far behind and the days continue to lengthen and the weather bathed in the warm sunshine. And while this coronavirus lockdown continues with no apparent end in sight, I was actually wondering whether God is teasing us. That is to say, giving health and beauty to the rest of his creation whilst our own health remains under threat.

Or could it be, as the Bible indicates, that through the beauty of his creation, God is trying to speak to us, encouraging us to turn to him, having already reconciled himself to us through the Death, Burial and Resurrection of his Son, Jesus Christ, to which this public holiday is all about? And so, for the first time since 1973, there is no church I can go to, nowhere to meet together to acknowledge and worship with fellow believers. True enough, throughout the years, there were some when I made off to the coast, particularly in the Bournemouth or Swanage area of East Dorset after finding a suitable hotel on a typical off-the-street walk-in method. And I was never disappointed. 

Indeed, over the years I have questioned whether our Lord Jesus was crucified on a Friday. The Roman Catholic Church has always taught so, and the vast majority of Protestant churches have always done so, too. But if there is any source that would throw the spanner into the works, it had to be the Bible itself. And to add to the apparent frustration, there is only one verse in the entire New Testament, Matthew 12:40, which are words spoken by Jesus himself, and it's not repeated in any other of the four Gospels. He was referring to the prophet Jonah in the Old Testament, who spent three days and three nights inside the belly of an unspecified marine creature after being thrown overboard from a ship whilst running away from God's specific command to visit the city of Ninevah, Jonah 1:17.

Here, Jesus makes a comparison. Just as Jonah was hidden from all life for three days and three nights, so Jesus himself will be "in the bowels of the earth" for the same duration. Of course, I want to go along with all other Christians and remember his crucifixion on Good Friday, as I grew up to believe. And every year, I always made an effort to attend a service on Good Friday But even from boyhood, with the assumption that the Saturday Sabbath is the very next day after his crucifixion, somehow I had an instinctive feeling that not all added up nicely. How I wished it did. Since a Friday crucifixion followed by a Sunday Resurrection does not add up to three days and three nights. Instead, his burial only adds up to two nights - Friday night and Saturday night.

The greater majority of Christians accept this without question. If all the churches taught this for nearly two millennia, then who am I to question it? Perhaps Matthew 12:40 is a copying error? If so, then how can I trust the rest of the Bible for being reliable? Indeed, an error of this kind, a quotation from Jesus, would mean that Jonah himself (or his biographer) erred when he wrote three days and three nights hid undersea. If Jonah had gotten it wrong, so did Jesus. Such doesn't lend much credit for inspiration!

There is always the idea that the High Day of John 19:31 was a reference to a special Sabbath, itself distinct from the normal Saturday Sabbath as being the first day of Unleavened Bread, a Jewish holiday lasting a full week gotten from Exodus 12:1-30. If this special Sabbath fell on a Friday, this would have meant two Sabbaths, Friday and Saturday, one after the other. If that was the case, that would mean that Jesus was Crucified on a Thursday, which was the Day of Preparation, when leaven was removed from every Jewish household across Israel and beyond.

Unleavened Bread.

Jesus died at the same moment when all the Passover lambs were slain, to be roasted and then eaten later that night, which was by then the first day of Unleavened Bread, a special Sabbath or High Day which was a Friday. Maybe that was why the apostle Paul called his Lord Jesus Christ "the Passover Lamb" of 1 Corinthians 5:7.

This seems to be a worthwhile study, and from it, I personally accept that Jesus was crucified on a Thursday, to die shortly before nightfall on that day. But this is something I need to keep for myself - or just share on this blog. I know that such an idea will be resisted by just about every Christian believer who either know me personally or who reads this blog. In the face of universal church authority, I would be perceived as just an oddity, a quack, one of those nerdy types who is off his rocker and therefore fully deserve by them to be ignored and not taken any notice of.

Maybe that is not as bad as it first looks. To God only am I accountable. If advocating a Thursday crucifixion will earn a stern rebuke from Heaven...

So be it. At least I can explain why I believe what I believe. But my biggest concern is that thereafter, no one will take my blogs seriously enough to bother reading them. I would be categorised as quackery, probably on the same level as believing that a small phial of water can be classed as holistic medicine, even if there is only one molecule of elixir in the entire phial, to give healing benefits.

Holistic medicine or not, for me, the historicity of the Crucifixion, and the timing of his death, his duration of burial and his Resurrection on that early Sunday morning even before daybreak is very central to my faith. Even Paul knew this by writing that if Christ had not risen, then my faith is in vain, without a purpose - 1 Corinthians 15:14. With our health under threat with a coronavirus infection with my beloved on special high risk, then believing in the historicity of Christ's final moments is absolutely central, allowing everything else to fall into proper perspective. And that includes the possibility that he was crucified on a Thursday, or the fifth day of the week.

It comes in as very supportive and edifying when in such a time when due to the lockdown, all dentists in our area have shut down and shortly after, Alex develops a severe toothache with pain spreading upwards towards her cranium. Earlier in the week, her pain was so severe that she begged me to phone 111. They believed that her condition was severe enough to warrant an ambulance. After the paramedics had found out that she overdosed (slightly) on both Paracetamol and Oramorph, they insisted on a trip to A&E where she will be further assessed. Due to the pandemic, I had to remain at home, for the first time ever. About six hours later she arrived home by taxi after being discharged without treatment, endorsing our opinion that the trip was a waste of time and effort.

Fortunately, her dentist has gotten through to us from his private mobile and prescribed antibiotics. As she gets closer to halfway through her course, the pain still comes and goes, but (with the help of painkillers) it's now less intense. The whole point of this episode is the timing of this entire scenario. It's as if she's a victim of some spiritual trickery or mockery, to make our lives as miserable and stressfully hard as can be. But her own faith in God is to be commended, much having been taught by me over the last twenty years of marriage and her more recent commitment to read the Bible.

Daily reports on nearly a thousand deaths with Coronavirus in intensive care each day, here in the UK, I find so distressing to the spirit. With the world looking so dark and grim, the Easter holidays should be a good time, a reminder that the light of Christ is shining, and God commands that all people everywhere should come to repentance and receive the eternal life which is on offer to all those who believe. If only Easter would shout all the louder! If only people would see the light of Christ with his arms open to receive them, and run to him, even from the fears and anxieties this pandemic is bringing. Yet what do I find?

A discussion about Brexit on Facebook! And that with the typical Brexiteer's insensitive response: To hell with Brussels, we are leaving at the end of the year, end of! This was amid a discussion whether, due to talks delayed by the pandemic, the intermittent period should be extended into next year, or should it still end on schedule without an agreement between London and Brussels? The Brexiteer has expressed his opinion that he couldn't care less about the talks. To him, nationalism is all or nothing. To be honest, I was shocked to read this during these sorrowful times.

Cry! Cry! Cry unto my soul, cry! Somehow, in this present distress, I don't think this is the right time to discuss such an issue. Why not? Well, let's see. Up to a thousand patients confined in intensive care have lost their lives with coronavirus each day here in the UK alone. That alone is very distressing. I think of the many families who have lost their loved one. I try to put myself into their place. I imagine my beloved wife lying in intensive care, unconscious, with a ventilator pipe connecting a machine to the inside of her trachea. She lies there alone, longing for my company had she remained conscious, but the hospital still forbids me to be by her side. Then her liver gives in. Immediately the nurse notices that her cardiac monitor is displaying a straight line and emitting a constant hum. The doctor arrives to give confirmation. Presently, I receive a phone call from the hospital, a very apologetic message to inform me that I'm now a widower.

This could be real. The NHS has informed her that she is on the high-risk category due to having cancer. At present, she remains at home under a shielding programme. But one mistake from me, who is allowed to go out for essentials, could still pass the virus to her.

But thanks to Easter, she would be one of the fortunate ones. At her passing, she would be in the arms of her Lord in Heaven. As she enters glory, all her pains would be over. Over for eternity, along with all the other problems the stresses of life had thrown at her. She would enjoy her final victory. It would soften the terrible blow I would have suffered at the news and the easing of the dread by Christ's presence from a very lonely existence, especially if our church services are still grounded by the pandemic.

Thank you, Lord God, for sending your dear Son as a once-and-for-all-time sacrifice to atone for our sins. And after three days and three nights confined in a rock tomb, you rise victorious from the dead, defeating both sin and death, and enabling us to receive eternal life through faith in your Son.

Thank you, Lord, for Easter.

Brexit, A Modern-Day Edenic Lie?

Only yesterday a tradesman called at our home to inspect and upgrade our smoke alarm system. As with most two-storey homes, we have two smoke alarms, one downstairs in the hallway, outside the kitchen door, the other upstairs above the landing, outside the bathroom door. I can understand the downstairs location. Cooking can be a risky business, and a slip up could cause the contents of the saucepan or frying pan to burn or smoulder, with thick smoke rising from the stove which would set off the alarm to screaming mode. 

But how a fire can start within a bathtub or shower unit is a bit of a mystery. Whether scalding my foot as I attempt to enter a bathtub of overheated water would set off the upstairs alarm or not, no doubt the makers of these gadgets had seen the wisdom to have such an instalment.

Can a bathroom generate smoke? Stock photo.

But it's not the gadgets in focus here but rather the tradesman who called by appointment. His broken English, as he introduced himself, quickly gave the game away. Another "foreign immigrant" stealing a job from an indigenous white Englishman who is left to live off Jobseeker's Allowance. Indeed, how terrible the European Union (EU) was to allow immigrants to invade our Sceptred Isles! The tradesman might have glimpsed into our kitchen whilst servicing the smoke detector and not realise that its excellent decor was also the work of non-indigenous foreigners, who also installed a new row of kitchen cupboards as part of their work schedule.

And the tradesman calls on the same day the UK leaves the EU. It was an apt reminder that the result of the 2016 referendum was due to the annoying fact that Britain was swamped by immigrants. Never mind that the total percentage of all immigrants into the UK was only 14% in 2018, the percentage from the EU is only a fraction of this, a mere 6%.

This added that it was the UK and not the EU who encouraged immigration, especially under Tony Blair's Government. And allowing them to live for six months without a job also was our idea, not the EU's. And then all the domestic problems, the kind which can afflict any nation: the wealth gap for starters, then the ailing NHS - which was brought about by our own austerity and the rise of the ageing British population, and not by immigrants, nor the EU. The decline of British industry came about mainly under Thatcher's Government and such resulting redundancy and the rise of crime is of our making and not from EU membership. Terrorism did not arise from EU membership either. Rather it was from the radical Muslims from the Middle East which isn't allied with the EU.*

But xenophobia against European immigration, Poles mainly, which was the main thrust to leave. After the result was declared on the next day, there was a sudden spike of racist and xenophobic violence thrown towards foreigners, again, mainly towards Poles but also to Asians too, who were not from the EU. These incidents were physical as well as verbal, making the reality of Brexit a massive disappointment to these citizens, encouraging them to uproot and return to their homeland with a bitter taste of British experience lingering in their mouths as well as giving the English a bad reputation. Hmm. Very Christian indeed!

Alongside the grudge against foreigners, the other reason why we voted to leave was to regain our independence and sovereignty. Ah, sovereignty. As one Facebook friend wrote about the newly-gained freedom, how wonderful it is to be free from the domain of the world's worst crooks. World's worst crooks? I thought they were locked up at Alcatraz Prison, an island jailhouse surrounded by the Pacific inlet of San Francisco Bay. Oh, wait! The prison closed down in March 1963. That is 32 years before I visited the site as a backpacking tourist in 1995. With a further 25 years leading up to the present day, 57 years is too long for the likes of Al Capone to settle in Brussels as a member of the European Parliament. Therefore, if my friend's evaluation of these members is correct, then we can only assume that at least one MEP is Capone's grandson.

Alcatraz housed Al Capone and other notorious criminals.

Having visited the EU Museum in Brussels only last year with my beloved wife, I find it strange that there seems to be a total ignorance on why the EEC, the forerunner of the EU, formed in the first place when Europe was still recovering from the ravages of war, and never again want any more of such a world conflict. The result is freedom of movement between countries, free international trade, a universal currency, and the ability for anyone to settle in a different country, including Brits settling abroad and continentals settling here, as well as a deterrent against another outbreak of a global war, certainly has made these "world's worst crooks" look like saints by comparison. Al Capone, you're forgiven!

This national pride (no humility?) national independence (from God?) and national sovereignty (never submit to God or to another nation or empire?) - are the threefold promise constantly put out by Leave supporters. Really, it's not about the strength or weakness of the Economy. It's all about national pride, independence and sovereignty. And a promise to rise in power sometime in the future? This long-sought imperial mentality? According to my experience in life, there is much said about "The Noble Englishman" being right at the top of Darwin's evolutionary chain. According to the Media, that's is what Brexit is all about, isn't it?

Promises of national glory. Prospects of a golden economic future. I can't help but hear the leaves on the trees of history shaking as if blowing in the wind, the flapping of the pages in the Bible. After all, isn't Brexit the very heart and soul of the fallen human psyche? These words continue to echo across a long, long period:

And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die.
For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.
Genesis 3:5.

If I can see a parallel between the Edenic Lie which led to the entry of sin and death to all men - and future national glory, then it's either a spiritual discernment I have or I'm insane or unrealistic. To be proud to be English, as it has been said to me, seems to imply shame of belonging to any other nationality, indicating an admission of superiority as a Noble Englishman. Indeed, that's what Brexit want to aim for, isn't it? National superiority?

I mourn over this. I just couldn't celebrate, whether at home or at Parliament Square with Nigel Farage exalting himself, while Big Ben remains stubbornly quiet, refusing even one bong, and no fireworks either. In fact, at the stroke of 23.00 hours on January 31st 2020, there was only one firework let off from a neighbour two doors away from our home. It was one of those fireworks which threw one explosive star after another into the air after just one igniting of the touchpaper. And that was it. Nothing at all resembling Bonfire Night or even New Year. Yet even Alex and I went briefly to the window to watch it.

Then the ensuring quietness of the night. The sense of normality lasting into dawn, but as Tony Blackburn's Sounds of the Sixties on Radio 2 attempting to bring cheer into our bedroom, I could still sense a death, the passing of something. A sense of isolation. A new beginning? It felt more like a horrible death. Furthermore, on the very same day when we were about to leave the EU, there was also news about how the coronavirus from China had already entered England within two patients, up north in Yorkshire. A very ominous timing indeed!

The world turns. The sun rises, the gentle wind sways the finer branches of the still-leafless trees of Winter, magpies continue to nest, elsewhere, rivers continue to flow, the waves of the sea continue to lap along the beach, clouds drift across the sky. On a more global scale, the Gulf Stream just keeps on flowing, bring warmer waters from the Carribean Sea, across the Atlantic Ocean, to give us milder Winters, whilst Canada and parts of the USA lay under a blanket of snow. And we continue breathing, wondering what has the future have in store for us.

Despite the continuous daily activity of the entire natural order which I could see, hear, and having awareness of, there is this other bad feeling in the air alongside the mournful sorrow. That is the sense of gloating of the Leaver's victory over us Remainers who had lost the original vote and is believed by them that through our ministers at Westminster, we tried our best to overturn Brexit (even if I wasn't involved.) That snooty look down the nose from the likes of Etonian Jacob Rees-Mogg, that smug attitude from other supporters, even from among churchgoers, the laughing and scornful tease from the street mob, shouting down the EU and its supporters in a derisory manner, making us feel small and maybe even embarrassed at their presence.

A pro-Brexit march in London.

And such awful titles such as Remoaner and Remainiac, the latter coined by disgraced Daily Mail columnist Katie Hopkins, one of Alan Sugar's The Apprentice fired candidates, who referred to all Remainers and Londoners alike as being barely distinguishable from the apeman, well behind on the evolutionary scale. Indeed, the Noble Englishman is definitely not a supporter of the EU!

And then there are my fellow brothers in Christ whom I know well. By their support of Brexit by some of them, including my closest friends, I had gotten the impression that Matthew 6:33 actually has Jesus giving the instruction:

But seek first your nation's sovereignty and its glory, and all these things will be added to you.

I'm aware of the seriousness of such tampering with God's Word. But if going by John's cry right at the end of the whole Bible, it's worth considering what the priorities of a believer's life should be.

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Matthew 6:33.
And John cries out:

He who testifies of these things, says, "Yes, I'm coming soon."
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.
The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God's people. Amen. Revelation 22:20-21.

The ushering of God's Kingdom. A Kingdom of peace and righteousness, and with the Curse of the Edenic Lie at last lifted from all Creation. Now that's the hope for optimism and nothing else which falls short should even be considered, especially if it causes so much pain, division and controversy.

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*The Guardian newspaper, February 1st, 2020.  

Looking Ahead - Good or Bad?

I have heard that this decade is already referred to as the Roaring Twenties - and that despite at this time of writing, we're only four days into it! The original Roaring Twenties was the decade between 1920-1929, nicely slotted in between two World Wars, and it was a time of economic growth and construction prosperity following the ravishes of the Great War. This time, however, rather than recover from global warfare, we are about to experience "oceans of opportunities as one invigorated nation with optimistic promises of a Golden Age of economic prosperity" post-Brexit, after four decades chained to Brussels, that cruel and wicked master of the European Union which was guilty of robbing the English of its sovereignty, identity and independence.

We pray for success? Will Brexit deliver?

Although from 1930 onwards, there was still eight-to-nine years of peace before World War II broke out in 1939. During those years, Adolf Hitler was already rising to power, becoming Chancellor from 1933 until becoming Fuhrer just a year later, in 1934. But it was from 1921 onwards that he became the leader of the Nazi Party, still in its fledgeling stage back then. Thus it can be said that during the Roaring Twenties, rumbling earthquakes were heard and felt which eventually climaxed in an explosive volcanic eruption in the form of the second great war breaking out.

While I write this, Brexit hasn't yet occurred. It's still more than three weeks away - if our current Prime Minister keeps his promise to "Get Brexit Done" by the end of January 2020, as he assured us during his election manifesto. Yet the earth is already shaking and rumbles of thunder already can be heard, so the newspapers like to forewarn us. I'm referring to the missile strike under the orders of US President Donald Trump to annihilate General Qassem Soleimani, Iran's chief military commander, while in his car exiting Bagdad Airport after a flight from Syria. An incident which took place successfully within the last couple of days.

Fearing retaliation from Iran, an online heading from The Daily Mail of Friday, January 3rd, warned of the "likelihood of World War Three," as Iran's revenge attacks on the West could involve Israel, Russia and China as well as Europe and the States. Oh, dear! It doesn't look as if there is an intermission period to enjoy the promised "oceans of opportunities" in the same way as The Roaring Twenties did a hundred years earlier. Instead, it's time to hide in the bunkers. Hatchets down! The Third Rock from the Sun is about to fry! So much for Boris Johnson's optimism!

This "snowflake generation" must have squealed loud enough for the newspaper to modify its output by the day after, as I read the actual paper itself whilst sipping at a Starbucks Cappucino this morning. Perhaps the reporters had to modify after a long forum of complaint trailed the original article, basically calling the journalist a scaremongering idiot. And the forum had an occasional contribution in words such as:- Don't worry, snowflakes. World War Three isn't going to happen. As today's paper has put it, there is no evidence that China or Russia will get involved, although Israel could still turn on Iran if the latter aimed its weaponry towards this tiny Jewish nation.

Therefore, rather than being a global conflict forewarned only yesterday, this time the national newspaper assured us that Iran's retaliation - if it decides to retaliate - will result in a local conflict, very much like that of the Falklands War of the eighties or the Gulf War of the nineties. This time, British troops may not be involved in this latest conflict between Iran and the USA.

Whew! That's a relief! Thank you, Daily Mail. At last, we can savour the "oceans of opportunities" post-Brexit. As one who voted to remain in the European Union, and having to endure nonsense words such as Remoaner and Remainiac as well, (I'm surprised that no one has thought about Remidiot also, but still, someone might already have done) - I have arrived at the expectation that the English majority will prove me wrong, and end up sailing, or even swimming, in the "oceans of opportunities" and enjoying all the benefits. Indeed, if I was proved wrong all this time, I will admit it.

And so here we are, with our Christmas decorations still up albeit they will come down tomorrow (Sunday 5th) unless I feel lazy, as I usually do on a typical Sunday afternoon, stuffed with roast chicken thighs and vegetables, after a four-mile cycling trip to Ascot Life Church and back. Indeed, I'll be glad when this silly season is over. Glum office staff journeying to work, congested roads, cancelled and delayed trains, bins filled with thrown-out Christmas trees, cold weather, all shops open and trading, ditto with the banks, and the kids back at school. And oh yes, as I would forget: the opening of Parliament, with Brexit being on the top of the agenda. What a couple of weeks this has been.

And television. Funny in a way, that all programme schedules go so awry during public holidays. Yet there have been some enjoyable movies such as the adult version of Charles Dicken's A Christmas Carol, shown in three parts, each evening leading up to and including Christmas Eve. And Eastenders? I know, to some of the more "spiritual" Christians around, only the "worldly" would sink low enough to watch such a soap. Never mind that the soap is bereft of swear words usually spoken among the real-world working classes, on Christmas Day we watched the explosive rage of a jealous husband of his wife who was impregnated by a handsome young man eight months previously. Indeed, lessons can be learned here on why God had commanded not to commit adultery. By honouring this commandment with obedience would have saved everyone involved from tons of anger, heartache and fear.

Then the three nature documentaries, Earth's Tropical Islands, narrated by actor David Harewood. Each covered three islands close to the Equator: Madagascar, Borneo and Hawaii. To me, this was a fascinating series depicting the vast array of species not found on any of the continents or islands outside the Tropical zone. But there were two inclusions which I found to be very sad, distressing, really. The first one covers about the last 10-15 minutes of the hour-long episode and details the precious rainforest being decimated for palm-oil farming, with vast areas of rainforest gone, along with the extinction of species and climate change. The sort of documentary put out by the BBC pierces exactly where it hurts, bringing up anger or sadness against these greedy capitalists who put profit before the natural environment and the welfare of its inhabitants.

The second source of distress came from the words evolution, evolutionary and evolved. Harewood used these words very frequently throughout his narration, without a chance for Creationism to even find a niche in the hour-long discourse. And so the English population watching these programmes lap it all up, without giving a moment's thought. It's interesting too, that it was at the same time when The Daily Mail newspaper had published a pie graph of the increase of Islam here in England alone and a decline of Christianity. There is an estimated 3,092,000 Muslims in England during 2016, which makes up 5.6% of the population (against 4.7% in 2011.) Jews, Buddhists and Shieks share 2.9% of the population while those who profess to be Christian makes up 56.6% (59.6% in 2011). This leaves 34.9% of English people who says they have no religion or any faith at all.

Of course, there is a big difference between professing to be Christians and being a true believer in the Death, Burial and bodily Resurrection of Jesus Christ which engenders trust in Him for salvation. According to one survey done more than twenty years ago, the percentage of true believers here in England could be as little as 2%, although that might have changed since then.

Committed Creationists are convinced that the knowledge of Evolution destroys the faith of the potential believer in Jesus Christ. They believe that higher education, whether at university or college, has the potential to destroy the faith of many when Evolution is directly taught or even referred to positively. The reason for this is quite straightforward. If a six-day supernatural Creation had not taken place, then the Crucifixion either had no power to save and it's completely meaningless, or that if Adam and Eve were descendants of apelike ancestors who all died, then death was not caused by Adam's sin and therefore the Crucifixion and Resurrection would have been entirely bereft of any saving power. In fact, if Evolution, involving death before Adam is true, then there would be no risen Jesus Christ and no salvation.

I wish that more and more people are saved. And as such, Creationism plays a big role in evangelism. One good example of this was when Paul the apostle approached a group of Greeks in Athens. He says:
The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not dwell in temples built by hands...From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live.
Acts 17:24, 26.

Paul knew that the six-day Creation is true and that Adam is the father of all men, and hence because Adam sinned, we are all sinners and subject to death because of sin, Christ, by rising physically from the dead, has defeated death and became the Firstfruit of the Resurrection. Because we are born naturally in Adam, we will die. But every believer who is in Christ, then he will live forever because of the Resurrection of Christ three days after his crucifixion. Creation and the Gospel are intrinsically linked. One cannot be true without the other.

That is why I long for a literal six-day Creation to be taught by a guest speaker at our Sunday services at Ascot Life Church. I was told by one Elder that Creation is not relevant for our church. But I disagree. Strongly disagree. Creation is not only relevant but an absolute necessity for the divine life which our fellowship is so committed to. And to believe in a six-day literal creation as narrated in the first chapter of Genesis nullifies an ancient Babylonian document, the Emuna Elish from being on the same level of authority as the Biblical record, as advocated at our church in the Summer of 2018, or the reason for the neutralisation of Theistic Evolution, embraced by most, if not all, university graduates filling most English churches.

One good friend of mine, Dave and his wife will be settling in Canada later in the Spring. Their mission will be to set up churches at a particular location. This is where I would strongly encourage the truth about a divine six-day Creation, the Fall, and Noah's Deluge to be taught as historical fact and how such Biblical truths makes up the foundation stone on which the Gospel can be verified as historical fact. One can't do without the other.

Will you feel embarrassed to advocate such truths as history in a modern, science-oriented world? Do you feel afraid to be cast aside, ignored, or even teased? Are you afraid that preaching Divine Creation will put people off from receiving the Gospel? Then this is worthy of consideration: At Athens, back then the capital of the academic world and the ancient equivalent of the present Oxbridge, Paul included Creation with his Gospel message. But he drew only a few followers. He wasn't very successful. Apparently, the response in Athens to Paul's revelation of Creation was so poor, that he wasn't even able to set up a church there, so it seems.

Jesus himself, he endorsed the historicity of Genesis (for example, Matthew 19:4-5, 24:37-39, Luke 17:28-32). But he came unto his own, and his own received him not. John 1:11. He might have endorsed the truth of Genesis, but that was no guarantee of wide acceptance.

Who knows, there might well be World War Three. But most likely not, at least not on a global scale. But in deciding for the coming decade, I do believe that reliable speakers from Creation Ministries International should be invited into our church as a guest speaker, along with the Kerith Centre receiving such a guest speaker to enforce the truth of the Biblical record to those sitting on the fence.

Election Result: How I Found Peace

Throughout the past three years, I have featured on my pessimism over the idea of the United Kingdom leaving the European Union, and later expressed my concerns concerning the future of the National Health Service (NHS). This has always been due to our for-life medicine supplies, with my beloved Alex relying on Diazepam and other drugs to keep her neurotic disorder under control, and Warfarin, along with other drugs, including beta-blockers, to keep my heart pumping healthily after an aortic valve replacement procedure back in 2015.

Happy to say, at present, I'm more at peace with our present election result with Conservative Boris Johnson elected as Prime Minister.

But before I proceed further into this blog, it might be helpful to give a brief background of my upbringing, so what follows will fit into place more clearly.  

Both my parents were ardent socialists, with Dad, in particular, a republican. Here in the UK, a republican is someone who prefers an elected president as Head of State rather than a monarchy, who's heir to the Throne passes from generation to generation without ever facing an election. Therefore, on the political front, both my parents had always been committed to voting Labour.

As for me, I am more sympathetic to the Monarchy than my father was, but only on the borderline. When I see the Queen busy at her duties and fully committed to them, then I tend to feel that she has done a good job and therefore engender a greater sense of sympathy. But at other times, such as the divorce between Prince Charles and Diana, her fatality under a Paris subway, along with the scandal following Prince Andrew's friendship with a billionaire paedophile, besides with such global broadcasting of royal pageantry, giving the impression that Queen Elizabeth II is the most important Head of State in the world, surpassing all other national leaders, then the pendulum tends to swing the other way, and therefore I tend to favour republicanism. And that is my position at present.

Since I became a Christian believer exactly 47 years ago, I came across literature by Christian authors, mostly American. These included Dr John R. Rice, founder of The Sword of the Lord in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, along with Hal Lindsey and Tim LaHaye. All three having testified that capitalism is linked to the Bible while socialism opposes it. Indeed, they have a point. The father of both socialism and Russian communism was Karl Marx, a Jewish atheist who advocated collective ownership of all property and distribution of all wealth gotten by high taxation. Along with the banning of all religion, and private ownership of property both were made a criminal offence, as all churches were forced to close, and land and assets were forcibly seized from their owners under Marx's manifesto.

Such a brutal system proved to be a failure, as both Perestroika and Glasnost of the 1980s led to the eventual downfall of Soviet Communism, and the dismantling of the Berlin Wall during November 1991. As such, as a Christian, I believe that capitalism is not only a better system to serve this fallen world, but it's closer to the Bible than outright socialism.

Along with the 8th and 10th Commandments of the Decalogue (Exodus 20) emphasising respect for private property ownership, one of the best-known teachings of Jesus Christ was on the Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard, recorded in Matthew 20:1-16. Here, an agreement was made between a landowner and a group of hired workers of a penny for a full day's work, starting early in the morning. Then throughout the day, the landowner went out to hire more workers to make it possible to market his produce sooner, whilst still fresh. He then went out to collect further workers in the early evening, and they did just an hour's work. Then at payout time, everyone received a penny or denarius, regardless of the hours put in.

The idea of a penny seems utterly worthless in our present currency. It doesn't buy anything. Of such little worth, our Government had talked about abolishing it, along with our 2p coin and our tiddler 5p coin, but an uproar from the public had quickly shelved that idea. But as the denarius is a day's wages for a worker, the penny of Roman times must have fed him and his family.

It came as no surprise then when the early-starters kicked up a fuss over receiving the same amount of money as those who only worked an hour. Forgetting the original agreement made with the landowner, their protest earned a rebuke and a questioning of his generosity.

For most of my Christian lifetime, I have thought that the landowner's generosity applied only to those who worked from mid-afternoon onwards. But lately, I have come to believe that he was generous to all his employees by allowing them to earn a day's wages instead of watching them and their families go hungry. If this perception is true, then I have begun to understand the underlying motives of the English capitalists of the Victorian era, that period of English history which has been re-enacted in a series of BBC documentaries.

Often depicted as the epitome of cruelty, we watch as these proprietors and mill owners extract the most arduous of work from their employees for the smallest pay they feel to be right. The result is that the working families, including their children, goes through a hard day's graft, under the threat that their pay will be withheld if they don't work quick enough or their final product is below par.

But these capitalists saw themselves as Christians, in obedience to God based on their awareness of Matthew 20:1-16, along with other Scriptures endorsing the virtue of land ownership. Therefore they saw themselves as generous, allowing the poor to eat.

Boris Johnson after his election victory.

It's such an environment of the 19th Century when the rise of the Labour Party took its roots. However, there is a subtle difference between Labour and Socialism which even my late father might not have been able to tell apart. The former wishes to give greater care and respect, along with a decent pay among workers within capitalism, allowing the latter to exist. Socialism wishes to do away with capitalism altogether. As one who believes that capitalism is of greater benefit than socialism, I believe Labour has done a great deal of good among the workers. Not only has their pay had risen to considerable heights, but paid holidays eventually became the norm, along with the forming of the NHS in 1948 under Clement Atlee's Labour Government.

Since then, the NHS has been the sticking point in every election manifesto, especially in the last few decades. And it was the issue of the NHS that has made me develop a deep distrust of Boris Johnson's attitude towards the NHS, with his intention for privatisation, together with his Brexit campaign.

It has all started with David Cameron's February 2016 declaration of a Referendum to be held on the 23rd June of that year. Two brothers who both attended Eton College, Nigel and Alex Noaks, were two businessmen who had an interest in psychological profiling. The older of the two, Alex, was also a former executive of the Tory Party's favourite advertising agency - Saatchi & Saatchi. In due course, another Etonian, Alexander Nix, joined the brothers after forming a company, Cambridge Analytica (CA), whose purpose was to persuade swing voters to support a particular candidate or issue and to win elections. 

As a result, in 2016, the Trump campaign, sponsored by wealthy businessmen such as Ted Cruz and billionaire Robert Mercer, was successful in winning the majority of the American electorate to vote for Donald Trump. Then afterwards, the main Brexit group, Vote Leave, which received £100,000 from one of its donors, billionaire Paul Marshall, along with donations adding up to millions of pounds made from other businessmen; and the website Leave.EU. sponsored CA to enlighten the nation to vote to leave the EU. 

Three tactics were used. One was to do with the NHS, with Boris Johnson promising that with the weekly £350,000,000 paid into the European Union, this instead can be used to fund the NHS. However, the then UK Independence Party (UKIP) leader Nigel Farage saw that Johnson's NHS argument was too overwhelming to be a realistic tactic, so he ventured on the second of the three tactics - immigration. Farage emphasised how the crisis caused by the 2015 Refugee Crisis into mainland Europe from Turkey and Lybia was the setting for his Breaking Point campaign, featuring a queue of refugees attempting to enter Croatia. This campaign was also heavily supercharged by Cambridge Analytica.

The third psychological tactic used by the CA was the idea that by leaving the EU, the British can reclaim its Bulldog spirit. This British Bulldog spirit mentality most likely had its appeal for the Labour strongholds of the North of England, where heavy industry such as coal and steel once held dominance.*

The Referendum came and went with Brexit the clear winner, albeit by just a small 52/48% margin. David Cameron resigned from his PM post on the same day, Theresa May took over as PM and Boris Johnson declared that the weekly £350,000,000 meant for the NHS were absolute rubbish, before setting off to play cricket with Lord Althorpe, another Etonian. Indeed, with the heavy influence of Etonian-run Cambridge Analytica, Boris Johnson, also an Etonian, used deception to fool the public. On a spiritual basis, this is a serious matter when considering what Jesus said that the Devil is the father of lies (John 8:44).

With this lie, my distrust for Johnson grew as he took over Theresa May's resignation on June 7th, 2019. After he won the post as leader of the Tory Party on the 24th of July 2019, one of his vows was:

I will sooner die in a ditch than not take the UK out of the EU by October 31st.

October 31st came and went and the UK was still in the EU. Then the matter arose of a document, produced by Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn, about the NHS being on the table among other trading agreements with the USA. This document was composed under Theresa May's administration and therefore vehemently denied by both Donald Trump and Boris Johnson alike.

With the Tories winning the December 2019 election with an 80 seat majority, I took a look into the Daily Mail newspaper of Saturday, December 14th, the day after the election result was given. He had promised a sum of thirty-four billion pounds! At first, I wasn't sure whether the paper meant the total sum of that amount throughout the whole five-year Parliament, or otherwise. It was later that this enormous amount of money, £34,000,000,000,000, was his annual contribution a small fact the paper did not mention.

It's an enormous promise, which apparently dwarfs the weekly £350,000,000 he says he would save from having to pay for EU membership after Brexit. If £34 billion per year is what he has promised, which he says will be legally binding through a law to be passed through Parliament, then I truly hope he will stick to his promise in the years to come!

Then there are the Labour strongholds, particularly in the industrial North of England. For up to a hundred years, no Tory candidate would ever be delivered to Parliament. For these regions to give their support for the Tories to deliver Brexit is an astonishing accomplishment. But this, I believe, is a borrowed vote, lent on condition that Brexit gets done. Tamper with the NHS to their detriment, and the Tories will become toast, especially after the Labour Party had changed its leader.

All this is a tremendous sigh of relief! But in truth, my trust must be in God alone. The One who holds everything in his hands and even uses the earth as his footstool. This is the real source of peace - a trust in God for his daily provision including medical care. He alone is the Saviour, the source of salvation, the gift of eternal life given to everyone who believes.

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*Good information is found in the paperback: Posh Boys, how English Public Schools ruin Britain, by Robert Verkaik, 2018, Reprinted 2019, Oneworld Publications

Post-Brexit Britain - Atlantis Reborn?

December at last! And the start of the party season which marks Christmas and New Year's Eve respectively. Next weekend (that is Sunday 15th) there will be a Carol Service at Ascot Life Church beginning at 4.00 pm and another one at the Kerith Centre at 7.00 pm. I'll be attending both, God willing, the later service through an invitation made by my good friend Dr Andrew Milnthorpe, who, this week, offered me a level of prayerful comfort after finding out that I'm waiting for a hospital appointment for tests to rule out the possibility of bladder cancer.

But the atmosphere of "goodwill and peace to all men" made manifest by the presence of Christmas trees illuminated by coloured light bulbs, fake glittery presents purposely placed around these trees in a public setting, tinsel and baubles hanging from wall to wall - such a festive air of goodwill seems tainted with anxiety and a feeling of uncertainty by the coming general election for the leaders of either of the two main parties for Government power. Those two candidates are our present Prime Minister Boris Johnson for upholding a free-market economy, against the Opposition, Jeremy Corbyn for promoting "extreme Marxism" which to many, poses a threat to the future of our country.

And so the two were up for an hour-long debate, with BBC reporter Nick Robinson as the monitor. With The Daily Mail national newspaper making a lot of fuss about Johnson's very narrow victory of the debate, a 52/48% majority, according to a snap YouGov poll, leaving he newspaper pleading with the electorate to vote Conservative at the next election, itself taking place less than a week after this blog is written and published. The narrowness of the capitalist's victory over the socialist leader does pose a threat of a hung-Parliament with a chance of Corbyn, with the support of, or even a coalition with, the Scottish National Party's leader Nicola Sturgeon, taking the keys of number 10 Downing Street.

Therefore the newspaper promises "a fabulous golden age of National Sovereignty and independence from Europe, where businesses will thrive, people will have well-paid jobs, world-wide trading being established, the building of up to sixty hospitals, the training of thousands of nurses, the immigration of skilled people only into the UK" - all promised to happen after Brexit. Or in other words, an independent nation of engineering skills and technology, along with a thriving economy.

Yet the newspaper is running scared. And that is despite that during the early stages of the BBC debate, no mention was made whatsoever by The Daily Mail of Johnson's constant er-er-humming in hesitation when an awkward question was presented to him. All he could come up with was GET BREXIT DONE! over and over again like a computerised zombie programmed by some insane maniac. Even then, a YouGov poll reveals a higher level of trustworthiness towards Corbyn despite his defeat in the debate. On Johnson's constant hesitation to answer directly, the Tory-leaning newspaper remains ominously quiet.

I suppose the unrealistic optimism of promising something of a resurrection of Atlantis after Brexit takes quite a beating! This was a fabulous island-continent somewhere "beyond the Pillars of Hercules" - according to the ancient Greek philosopher Plato, meaning somewhere out in the Atlantic Ocean. This landmass supported a population who was supposed to be so advanced in engineering and technology and enjoying a thriving economy before descending into wickedness, eventually resulting in a mass swallowing up by the ocean. A fabulous myth? Maybe so, but there is that distant echo of the world that then was, being overflowed with water, perished - 2 Peter 3:6 - a strong indication of not being a mythical but a historic event. And a global event too, not just restricted to the Atlantic Ocean.

Fantasy image of Atlantis submerged by the ocean.

Perhaps for the Tory-voting, Brexit-supporting businesses and entrepreneurs, the fact that Jeremy Corbyn is accused of supporting or endorsing antisemitism within his own party might offer some hope of this Labour leader will suffer defeat at the election. But among these Tory hopefuls, I actually wonder how many of them are familiar with that one verse in the Bible:

I will bless those who bless you, but anyone who curses you will be cursed (Genesis 12:3.)

It's so unfortunate that the greater majority of the electorate, both Tory and Labour, are not aware that a leader's attitude towards the Jews can be the reason for either his elevation or his downfall. If Corbyn is defeated at the coming election, then one cause of his downfall could be from his antisemitic attitude both within himself and in other members of his party. That is my opinion. But the many, who are aware of this verse, having learnt it at Religious Education classes at school but without conversion, will equate it as a fairy tale, although still acknowledging that Abraham might have existed, unlike that of Adam or Noah.

Maybe that's the reason sceptical scientists laugh at the idea of Atlantis having ever existed, just as much as Noah having ever existed at all. Both Plato's Atlantis and Noah's Flood speak of the same thing - a judgement sent from heaven to punish wickedness within a thriving society. And what I can see, Boris' optimistic utopia following Brexit looks to be very parallel to Atlantis and the antediluvian world. All three reached the height of technological splendour and with a flourishing economy - but all three rejecting God. As Jesus himself once said,

In the days before the flood, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark and the flood came and took them all away (Matthew 24:38, Luke 17:26.)

If that wasn't enough, then Jesus continues:

It was the same in the days of Lot. People were eating and drinking, buying and selling, planting and building. But the day Lot left Sodom, fire and brimstone came and destroyed them all (Luke 17:28-29.)

Little wonder the Bible is mocked or even hated to this day. Here were two flourishing economies, both divinely destroyed. Therefore Jesus must be endorsing history, for he spoke as if these events were history. There was nothing bad about these cultures (eg heterosexual marriage), nothing bad about these economies, nothing bad about these projects - their skills, their ability to educate themselves and become experts in architectural and engineering marvels. Their main shortcoming was to reject God and deny his existence. That left them feeling optimistic, fueled by self-confidence, opening the door for every kind of debauchery, along with all the sexual, covetous, and murderous sins the human heart could ever bring up.

Therefore my doubts on Boris Johnson's long-term optimism for a flourishing golden age of post-Brexit Britain. Although it's a crying shame, such hope doesn't have its foundation on the Rock of Christ but on the sand of Darwinism. Okay, for you who may be regular readers of this page, I know, I go on and on about this Darwinian theory opposing Divine Creation. But it's this, I believe, which has sent millions into a lost eternity in the past couple of centuries! A terrible tragedy. Tragic because it was a lost destiny I could have been heading myself, as I was once an atheist, a God-hater and a devout evolutionist.

It gives me no joy to write like this, hence my wish for all my Christian brothers not to bother so much about Brexit, but to be more emphatic about Divine Creation, along with Christ and his Kingdom, the final destiny, so wished for by the apostles that the speeding of his coming as part of their prayers - for a quick redemption of both body and soul alike. Heaven is about being in the presence of God, who is Love, the eternal love shared between Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and God's gracious wish and desire to share this eternal love with his Creation, with mankind, actually partaking in this love and sharing all the joys which go with it.

At Creation, God appointed a federal head of all mankind, Adam. But since the Fall, God appointed two more. Those two were Abraham, the father of all Jews, a nation appointed to intercede for all nations, and Jesus Christ himself, the Second Adam. All mankind is born in Adam, but through faith in the Death, Burial and Resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, the believer becomes one in Christ. Furthermore, the Christian receives the imputed righteousness of Christ into his account. That means that God the Father sees him in the same way as he sees his Son, the believer in Christ and Christ in the believer. And because the Father sees the believer in the same way as his Son, the believer can never be lost again.

As for Adam himself, the federal head of all mankind, is he in Christ? Yes, I actually believe he is (along with Eve). When God rebuked the serpent in the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve believed, and thus, the righteousness of Christ was imputed into their accounts (Genesis 3:15). But they were still driven out of the garden due to their sinful bodies. The fact that flesh and blood cannot inherit the Kingdom of God is why, when a saint dies, his spirit and soul goes to Heaven to be with Christ while his body goes to the grave.

Three federal heads: Adam, Abraham, and Jesus Christ. As such the plan of salvation which is infinitely greater than any utopian ideal dreamt by any political leader. Each of the three has a bride, a wife for the husband to love and care for. Adam had Eve, Abraham had Serah, and as for Jesus, his bride is still in the making. She is the Church, a nation of called-out saints who have received his imputed righteousness. 

Reader, if you are a believer in Christ and you are indwelt by his Holy Spirit, then I beseech you to let go of Brexit and take hold of the greater promises God has in store for you. As I say of Brexit, is the same instruction Jesus gave to one of his listeners:

Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the Kingdom of God. (Luke 9:60.)