A VERY Big Hole-In-One!

Games was something dreaded rather than anticipated at school. Of course, when I first heard about Games as a first-year fresher approaching his twelfth birthday, I envisioned something akin to Snakes and Ladders, Ludo, Checkers, or Chess. Or heaven forbid, Monopoly, which exercises greed rather than mind or muscle. Or as school being an institution for learning - Trivia Pursuit (Genius, of course), or Scrabble. But no, the period bearing the title Games on the day's timetable had no bearing on the numerous board games I was becoming familiar with. Rather it was to do with football (Association) or rugby during the Autumn and Spring terms, and cricket or athletics during the Summer term.

"Monopoly, which exercises greed rather than mind or muscle." 

In typical sixties style, all this exposes our weaknesses in the boy's changing room. The school uniform consisting of black blazer and trousers, grey shirt and of course, a striped tie, nicely conceals a moment of forgetfulness when a boy fails to bring in his kit without a proper reason. So in full view of us all, he was forced to bend over to receive a designated number of whacks across his buttocks from the sole of a size twelve plimsoll. If he was a first year, then one single whack. Two for a second year pupil, three for a third year, and so on. I have watched quite a number of this kind of corporal punishment throughout my entire four-year stint at secondary education. Some boys took the punishment with such stoicism, that all they did was wince slightly as the plimsoll flew through the air with full might. Then after it was over, the boy returned to his bench without further ado. By contrast, I recall at least one boy who burst into tears and begged for a reprieve before the third stroke landed.

And to add to this sorrowful state of affairs, I recall witnessing a very unfortunate incident at the boy's changing room at the master's absence, when one rather chubby fellow burst into tears as a result of being a recipient of ferocious teasing by other pupils nearby. Ferocious teasing? It was more downright mental cruelty, capable of destroying any sense of self-worth, and, to my mind, opening the likelihood of suicide. Let's put it this way. As all across Italy, found in every home, the use of the bidet would have spared anyone from such dreadful embarrassment. The poor lad wept as his token of privacy was thrown across one end of the room to the other to the delirious laughter of his oppressors. All I could do was sit nearby and watch, refusing to be involved.

But I doubt if anyone had ever realised the humility I felt every time it was left for the two team captains to select their own players, whether in football or rugby. I was always left on the shelf, ready for the unfortunate captain whose lot fell to include me in his team. Let's face it, I was a letdown to the team and as a consequence, became a victim of verbal bullying, and close to being physical as well. As physical prowess was the yardstick for peer respect, the ideal, popular pupil always excelled in team sports. Even if he had never played that particular game before, just give him a ball and a set of rules, and he will always produce.

It is from these schooldays experience that I began to realise what it takes to be a good Englishman. If you are fortunate enough to be born with brains, then life can be a fruitcake, especially in long haul travel, property ownership, quality of lifestyle, smart dress at work, greater respect from society - and a better chance for church leadership. But fail at school? Then physical prowess, a good team player, even having a magnificent boxing skill, patriotic, military service and devotion to a life of manual or skilled labour may engender a degree of respect as a true English bulldog, but responsibilities such as church leadership of any level will always be far less likely. The issue was, I was neither. Certainly not physical prowess, hopeless in team sports, with only one or two I can refer as friends, and indeed, not much to show. Except for endurance. 

As such, I found long distance cycling a source of moral and physical strength. It was after I was freed from the wretched school tie and its culture, that I eventually began to bloom. But I believe that this was connected to something which was totally life-changing - to experience a rebirth through faith in Jesus Christ as Saviour less than five years after leaving school. Before this experience, I was not all there. Immediately after, however, I was all there, even if there will be some time before the fruits of such a transformation will become manifest.

But I did not have to wait long before such fruits began to show. Because reading and writing was something I did enjoy to a certain level, I found such wonderful benefit in reading the Bible. Over time, I discovered that reading the Bible has raised my level of intelligence which seems to uphold the view that the Bible was written under divine inspiration. And generated more faith. And also the enjoyment of physical endurance. Long distance cycling is one of them. Some trips were purely for tourism, which involved riding to faraway places and then finding a bed at a hotel or hostel. Others were fast burn-ups, usually done locally, covering up to thirty miles 48 km, starting and finishing at home, or even at church. Then to add a dip and a trot, I became involved in the Triathlon between the years of 1986-1992.

Although I was totally hopeless in team games at school, I was never averse to sport as a whole. It is so fortunate that it comes with such a wide spectrum, and there are beautiful colours within this spectrum which, although never advocated on the school curriculum, had highlighted what I was better at, the enjoyment gotten from these has given me such a morale boost, something so unfortunate in never having attained at school. But the fear in sporting failure having remained ever since. One good example of this was around 1980, give or take, when a group of us from my previous church went out for a picnic. A voluntary game of football was played among us menfolk. I joined in, and although I have made an effort to contribute, I was still fearful of any reprimand that would have come my way. But no reprimand was thrown at me, much to my surprise. Instead, I felt accepted, and even surprised one of the Elders for participating in the game, which he had already perceived as not being part of my natural character. It was this that got me wondering whether there is a big difference in culture between school and church.

Weeks turns into months and months into years. After job redundancy in 1979, I started up my own business. Even after then I have kept long-distance cycling active for a good number of years. I then travelled the world over the next few years, sleeping in backpacker's hostels far and wide. Eventually I married and became a father. More importantly, I settled at my present church fellowship in Ascot, my spiritual home, where an active men's social had taken off during the last couple of years. Such men's socials are an excellent idea, mainly to promote stronger fellowship between us who by nature are very self-reserved and often cliquey, within the church as well as outside the church. Starting some years earlier with men's breakfast on a Saturday morning every six weeks, the midweek evening Curry Club at a local Tandoori also started up, much to the annoyance of my dearly beloved. Because of this, I have nicknamed this The Smelly Breath Night!

With a new administrator, the men's social has expanded to include an evening's trip to a brewery, at another occasion a private barbecue and sauna. Being such a fan of the sauna, indeed I was the first to step inside. Then there was earlier this week, after responding to an invitation, for golf. I thought, golf? I tried playing golf with some friends a couple of decades earlier. I was so bad that even if I stood directly over the hole and dropped the ball, I would still miss. Really, the idea of golf between two teams of men did not exactly inspire anticipation, but nevertheless, I had accepted the email invitation as soon as it was posted. It was because I was all for promoting closer fellowship, edification, and godliness among ourselves, rather than any excitement over a golf course, that I made up my mind to participate.

The original booking was for twelve of us, with eleven of us showing up. I was very impressed with the venue when we arrived there. It wasn't long that I discovered that this amenity, known as the Surrey Top-Golf, had no resemblance to the traditional golf course. Instead, it was a large field which within were set several large circular shallow pits, some more than twenty metres across. The idea was to get as many "hole-in-one" strikes from a stationary position under a heated shelter. It was a facility built on the latest technology. Each player had a set of golf balls, each with a chip inside with the player's name programmed into it. When the ball fell into any one of these pits, a number of points was scored. The chip within each ball sent the message to the computer displaying our names and scorecard.

Top-Golf, Surrey

Despite such huge holes, I still managed to miss more than scored. And I was not the only one. Far from it! Because since it was already dark by the time we arrived, the floodlights illuminated thousands of golf balls glistening in the drizzle across the field, none having ended up where they should be. And throughout the evening I added more to the glistening white forest. But was I met with disapproval from any in the team? Far from it. Rather, when one of our members realised that I was holding the club the wrong way, he gently offered to show me how the stick should be held. After this, my scoring rate dramatically improved. But after two games which between them took longer than we anticipated, I still came bottom, on an equal level with another player. But no feeling of rejection, no rebuttal, no let down. Instead we all had great fun. 

And that is what I believe the Kingdom of God is about. Love, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Any competition taken with a sense of lightheartedness, and those who are weak, as I was, to be supported and if necessary, redirected. I could not think of anything more dynamically opposite from our school culture half a century earlier. That was why I detailed the embarrassing episode with the poor chubby pupil at the gym changing room. Such dreadful action by his contemporaries can only lead to sorrow and death. And the memory of such an episode could remain throughout life, with any thoughts on self-worth permanently damaged, unless helped along over the years by his naturally charismatic temperament. In addition, the constant threat of corporal punishment hanging over our heads has made weaker team players such as myself more prone to dislike team sports. This, along with bullying for letting the side down, really, without Christ in my life to strengthen me, I would have been left with two choices. One was to sink into despair to the point of developing agoraphobia, maybe even feeling suicidal. The other choice was the one I had taken, to try and make good of a bad situation.

One example was not long before leaving school in 1968. It was a games lesson out in the field and we were playing football. Hardly the one ever to kick the ball, on this occasion a stray kick from another player brought the ball to where I was standing. So what was the object of football? To score goals, wasn't it? So after a little hesitation, I gave the ball a hard kick towards the goal. It went in. For the first time ever I have scored for our team. I felt ten feet tall and very ecstatic for the rest of the day. Not long after, I made another effort to score at an indoor five-a-side game. Unfortunately, my shot was this time well caught by the goalkeeper. Such opportunities had never occurred again. But the report I took home to my parents read this, as I have never forgotten it:

Frank has made some great efforts this term: Standard below average.

And that was written by our plimsoll-wielding P.E. master, who seemed to be lately pleased with me. Perhaps he'll make an English bulldog out of me yet. Then maybe not. Standard below average. That is on physical education. It would take nothing short of a miracle to change that. And I believe that faith in Christ did just that. For I did have a potential ability which was not manifest at school - long distance and fast cycling which later evolved into Triathlon competition, with good results.

For the Kingdom of God is not about meat and drink (nor sporting excellence) but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.

Romans 14:17.

That was how our group at Top-Golf behaved last week. Peaceful, joyful, Life building, edifying, supporting. It was, in a sense, a good taste of Heaven. And furthermore, such would kill off any concept that church life is about living hermetically like monks, unrealistically cut off totally from the world. Church life is nothing like that. Neither should believers be perceived as "holier than thou" with a self-righteous, judgemental attitude towards those who disagree with them. Unfortunately, I know several of them who are just like that, even from another church. Neither should true Christians be so self-reserved and unemotional to the point of being cold of heart. This kind of attitude may be characteristically English, but it has no part in the Kingdom of God. It is also unfortunate that I know quite a number of men, especially of my age, who live out such attitude, not all in our church though.

"Perhaps he'll make an English bulldog out of me yet."

These are fellows I knew as far back as 1978. One or two were excellent football players, and actually played weekly in a team representing their church at a local league. I was involved with this club myself, but not as a football player.

These men, along with their wives and children are all well educated, professional men now reaching retirement age. But there will always be times when I wish they would dump both their religion and their patriotic pride and allow the love of Christ through the Holy Spirit shine out freely from their hearts, especially towards people who are different to them. Then they would score a real hole-in-one.

A Boy Among Doctors.

He was only twelve years old. But his remarkable intelligence has certainly impressed the doctors he was sitting among. The academics asked the lad many tough questions, and the boy managed to answer them all. But it wasn't just one-way asking. The lad also asked questions and received appropriate answers from those he was with. Furthermore, the youngster never became impatient, neither did he rebuke anyone in his presence for asking what he might have considered to be an idiotic or inappropriate question. Not that he or any of the doctors he was with would have wasted their time with foolish matters. Rather, the subject centred around the Law of Moses and other Scriptural issues found in what we would call the Old Testament today. And plenty about prophecy. Prophecy foretelling of the coming Messiah and his credentials, long awaited by the Jews, even in his day.

So impressed were the doctors with the conversation, that the whole discourse lasted three days. Although we are not told where he spent those nights in the absence of his parents, I can only assume that one of the elite took him into his own home until his desperate parents return to collect him.

The youngster was indeed remarkable. Even on his biological level. Whether he knew that every human being carries 46 chromosomes in the nucleus of every cell in his body, for a boy of twelve growing up in a very unscientific but highly religious environment, this is a matter of speculation. I wonder how much he did know in this particular stage in his life, that for a woman to conceive: Her ovum, which has only 23 chromosomes, must be fertilized by a male sperm which carries a further 23 chromosomes before a new life can begin. To qualify as a full human, he must have had all 46 chromosomes. If he didn't, then he wouldn't be truly human. The snag being that this child has no biological father. So whilst still an ovum inside his mother's fallopian tube, where did he get those other 23 chromosomes from? Since this has happened only once throughout the whole of human history, I guess science will never have an answer.

But there is more about his early childhood. From birth onward he never had to be disciplined for wrongdoing by either Mum or Dad. I guess he wasn't fussy with his food either, but as an infant he ate everything without ado whatever Mother spooned into his mouth. Perhaps the only time he let out a piercing scream was on the eighth day after birth. That was the day he had to undergo circumcision, a law given to his father Abraham centuries earlier - by the boy himself. As he grew up, he carried out his house duties without a fuss. Surely his parents must at times were left wondering: What kind of a child is this? Especially if his four younger male siblings, James, Judas, Joseph and Simon all growing up as normal boys who needed discipline, objected to household chores, and often refusing to eat. And all of them disliking their eldest brother for being such a perfect goody-two-shoes! And on the subject of Abraham, did he, as an adolescent accompanied by his parents, pay a visit of pilgrimage to his ancestor's tomb located in Hebron, an otherwise insignificant town far south from his home town of Nazareth? If he did, he would have looked at the very same fortress I looked at myself some two millennia afterwards, as Herod the Great successfully completed this iconic structure shortly before the boy was conceived.

And so there he is at the Temple, deep in conversation with the doctors. How much knowledge he had at that age one can only speculate. Was he already aware that his main mission on Earth was to suffer and die a criminal's death to atone for the sin of all mankind? This shortfall having entered the world through the transgression of Adam after giving in to Eve's seduction to eat the fruit of the tree God told them not to eat from. And so as one man transgresses, so sin has infected all mankind, separating each person from God, from each other, and even from himself, and ending in death. Yet this twelve year old at the Temple - was he already aware of the Three Trees of human history: The Tree of Life, the Tree of Knowledge, and the Tree of Calvary? And by dying whilst crucified will reconcile each man to God, with each other and with himself? Was the boy already aware of the result of his destiny? And his physical Resurrection after three days buried in the tomb? Furthermore, was he already aware that one day there will be no distinction among believers between Jew and non-Jew, no distinction between a free citizen and a slave, and even no distinction between male and female, as so well narrated by Paul in his letter? - (Galatians 3:26-29).

Did the lad at the Temple knew already what the result of his destiny would bring? Not only the giving of eternal life to all believers but reconciliation and unity with each other whilst still alive here on Earth? I think he already knew. He knew very well about this. Such a lad of tremendous intelligence and knowledge, yet in turn would not reject other people who don't match his model, neither would he stand offish, or look down on any of his friends and colleagues of his age range, even if such other boys may have had non-Jewish births, have different colour skin, or having come from different nations.

Perhaps you may disagree. After all, as an adult, he sounded quite abrupt to a Canaanite woman up north in Tyre when she made a simple request for him to heal her daughter (Matthew 15:21-28). He actually called her a dog. It would have been an extremely unusual scenario had it happened in our day. The Canaanite woman might well have protested with no small anger, using words such as:

How dare you! You arrogant swine! I'm not a dog, I am a woman! How dare you Jews insult us just because we aren't Jewish ourselves! It's about time you learnt a little more respect!

Instead, she accepted her foreign status in the eyes of the Jews and then proceeded to demonstrate that even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from its master's table. Out of his love for her, proceeded to heal her daughter and at the same time grant eternal life as an additional free gift to both of them. What a man this boy grew up to become!

Reconciliation of fallen man to God, with each other and with himself. I am convinced that this lad already knew of his destiny by the time he reached that age. And he was determined that, at the right time, he would set off to give himself to the Cross, and accomplish his mission of reconciliation to the level which the apostle later wrote - no more distinction between Jew and Greek, slave or free, male and female. An astonishing accomplishment!

How I wish I had the capability for time travel. Yes, I have travelled the world in my time but never had the capacity to travel back in time. Because I would have loved to have witnessed for myself this boy's wisdom and intelligence. In fact I would have very much desire to be at his presence on three primary stages of his life - shortly after his birth in Bethlehem, at the Temple in Jerusalem twelve years later, and finally, standing at the foot of the Cross. I can imagine myself being in the Temple at the presence of such a company, watching and listening to this lad as he speaks and ask questions. Then, probably before the third day is spent, I would cautiously approach him, fall on my knees and bury my face onto the ground just in front of him, hoping, just hoping, that he will reach over and gently stroke the back of my head with the palm of his hand.

Because I would explain to everyone around that from where I came from, much of the population remains alienated from God, from each other and from themselves. For example, this idea of having evolved by chance from primitive organisms over multiple millions of years is now accepted as scientific fact, therefore discrediting any historicity of Divine Creation. Even among Christians, especially among those who has received further education, there is this rather absurd notion of Theistic Evolution, a line of thinking which would still discredit and destroy the truth of the Gospel. After all, if sin entered the world through one man Adam, and death to all men result from this one man's sin, then if Adam and Eve had parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, all the way back hundreds, maybe thousands of generations before looking distinctly ape-like - and if all of them had died before Adam and Eve were ever born, sinned and died, then death did not come by one man's sin at all, and the Atonement becomes totally meaningless and ineffective. Then to make matters even more complicated, one would have to ask where in this long generational line is the point of demarcation between non-human and human species, and how far back was this before Adam's time? Yet, as I would tell them in the Temple courtyard, there will be many highly educated Christians who will adhere to such a peculiar notion. 

Then we are suddenly experiencing the rise of neo-nationalism, both in the UK and in the USA, as these nations will one day be called. The leader of the then most powerful nation in the world will be set upon building a 2,000 mile wall on the border with its neighbouring country Mexico, to keep those Mexican people out. These isolationist principles, together with the UK leaving the EU, raises the likelihood of international war breaking out further into the future, resulting in turning natural rivers into rivers of blood. Not to mention the on-going hatred between Western civilisation and Islamic terrorists, the latter bent on killing all non-Muslims as heretics. Then I will conclude on this matter that his mission to reconcile all men to each other seemed to have disastrously failed, with the addition that even within a single church, from time to time, there will be a degree of prejudice and distrust among its members, especially between social classes, along with an influx of false doctrine which will drive divisions even further.

Donald Trump - "I will build a wall at the Mexican border."

I will go on to explain to the boy and his accomplices the rising numbers of cases of mental illness, together with a rise of suicides. The feeling of a low self-esteem by comparison with the successes of others around, especially in the area of academic achievement, together with a feeling of inferior complex, and an awareness of personal failure, real or imagined, has become epidemic in my time and in my generation. If anything, the lad's future mission to reconcile the majority of mankind with God and with themselves has failed as well, and as I can see it, it's getting worse. I will also explain the direct link between negative, stress-induced emotions and physical illness, a large variety of diseases, with heart failure and cancer being the two biggest maladies induced by excess stress, worry, and lack of personal value, the latter caused by believing that we are all mere accidents of evolutionary chance. And also the same belief in evolutionary chance being a contributing factor, and probably a major one at that, for the collapse in marriage, the rise in divorce, the rise in adultery and unfaithfulness, sleeping around, and the consequential result in the rise of sex-induced diseases - all in a vain attempt to boost self-esteem and to be more in control.

Then, after I have finished, the lad would instruct me to return to my own time zone, and keep trusting in him, and know that because of him I have eternal life, and that through faith in him I am a son of God, adopted into his family, and I will never be lost again, because I'm in his hand, and I will never be plucked from his Father's hand, because he and his Father are one (John 10:29-30). He then explains to me that when the time set by his Father arrives, he will return to redeem every believer and put the whole world to rights when there will be no more tears, no more pain or sorrow. A perfect world which he alone can restore to its original Edenic beauty. 

A Miracle For Us In Israel.

In previous blogs, I have always shared my experience as a lone backpacking independent traveller. Sure enough, that has always been my preferred way to explore our beautiful and historic planet during my bachelor days. Like that, any risk of bickering, disagreements, or missing out on a venue for another's preference, along with a lack of affordable time, were all avoided. Instead, I went wherever I wanted to go, and stayed at a venue as long as I decided, with no questions asked. As a result, I tended to be very approachable, friendly, and quite chatty to anyone I came across, and that especially in the member's kitchen at any backpacker's hostel. Of course, after I married Alex, much of that had changed. This includes acceptance of package trips where both single-venue travel itinerary and hotel accommodation were pre-arranged by the company in charge of the trip, whether it be Thomson's, Thomas Cook, or some other travel operator. The very sort of holiday I would have looked with disdain before I married. For example, our honeymoon was a package trip to a Greek destination with Thomson's, the first of such trips since a package trip to Spain with a college friend as far back as 1972.

But at least Alex and I did enjoy an independent backpacking trip to Israel in the year 2000, to celebrate our first wedding anniversary. And I rate this trip as backpacking because we spent our time together at three separate venues: The first at a hostel in Tiberias, a town on the western shore of Lake Galilee, the second venue at the Stella Carmel Christian Guest House at the small village of Isfiya, not far from Haifa, and the third at the New Swedish Hostel right in the heart of the Old City of Jerusalem. And as with any independent trip, we made our own way to each of these hotels through means of public buses and taxis. However, there was one big mistake we have made with that particular trip, and that was in the timing of the decision to make the journey from Tiberias to Haifa. We chose, of all days, the eve of Rosh Hashanah, or New Year's Day for the Jews in Israel, when the entire nation shuts down - every shop, all public transport, all administrative services - making the whole land look as if every human being had vanished. So we were stuck in the deserted city of Haifa after the very last bus from Tiberias has pulled into the depot. 

Furthermore, we couldn't see any Sheruts (shared taxi) to take us to Stella Carmel, and we were also strapped for cash, with just a few shekels in my pocket, having foolishly neglected to cash a Traveller's Cheque at a bank in Tiberias while we still had the chance. So although carrying a large book of cheques, we were basically penniless, and therefore we had little option but to attempt to walk from the city of Haifa to Stella Carmel, using the skyscraper of the University of Haifa as a guidepost. For I not only knew about the University but also its location, from the time I was a volunteer at Stella Carmel more than six years previously in 1994. But what I didn't realise was that Isfiya was just over twelve miles 20 km from Haifa Bus Station, and to add to the situation, not only did I have a heavy rucksack on my back, but there was a mountain to climb, Mount Carmel, a ridge of high ground 1,700 feet, 525 metres from sea level. And oh yes, Alex was 18 weeks pregnant with our first daughter.

Haifa University.

So we climbed the mountainside, using a series of stairways which cuts through the rising suburbs of the city. Near the top, as we were about to arrive at the beautiful summit town of Karmelia, we turned and looked back at the fascinating panorama of the whole city, its large harbour functioning as the only commercial goods port for the whole country, and the rest of the coastline leading north to Accra, a medieval port a few miles further away. Strange, really. Only three years earlier, whilst still single, I had a vivid dream of standing at that very spot, with an unrecognisable female whom I did not know at the time. Was this the fulfilment of an apparently prophetic dream?

After passing through Karmelia, we found the main road to Isfiya, and for the first time we saw the upper floors of the University skyscraper - far, far away. Then I knew that I have severely underestimated the distance from one venue to the other. It would have taken several hours to arrive at our destination, as there was still a considerable distance between the University and the village of Isfiya. I could say that the tower block marks approximately halfway between where we were and the guest house, and it was soon to get dark. We walked a little further, the heavy rucksack bearing down on my shoulders. As we passed a residential area, we spotted a vacant roadside bench, and we both sat down. I covered my face with both of my hands, and it felt as if I was about to cry. As a seasoned traveller, how could I possibly have got both of us into such a disastrous situation? How could a wanting of a little pre-trip research make such a difference? (No Internet back then.) I confessed to Alex, sitting next to me, that I was unworthy to be called an experienced traveller. I felt desperate, not so much for my sake as I have handled similar situations in the past. Rather I was desperate for my beloved wife and her unborn. 

Although at a residential area, a fence ran alongside the road, leaving no access to any of the nearby houses where I might have called for help. So we just sat there, remaining undecided what to do next - proceed with the walk which would have been too much for Alex as well as for myself, or spend the coming night here on the bench - and jeopardising Alex's safety as well as losing an already-paid night at the guest house?

After a short while, I saw a taxi halt directly in front of us on the other side of the dual carriageway, on its way to Haifa. The driver called out and asked if we were going anywhere. I shouted back that we are heading for Isfiya, but have hardly any money between us. The driver then shouted across to remain where we are, he'll be back. A couple of minutes later he arrived on our side of the road and beckoned us in. Again I told him that we had no money between us, only traveller's cheques, as we had forgotten to cash one of them whilst still in Tiberias. 

"Never mind about that, please get in."

As we headed the right way, the driver wanted to know more about us. We told him that we are Christian backpackers out on a trip to celebrate our wedding anniversary, still two days away. He then reached for his wallet and pulled out a ten-shekel note. 

"Please take it." The driver insisted.

When I told him that our final destination was Stella Carmel, we also felt that somehow he already knew.

"Aside from driving a taxi, I'm also a pastor of a Christian church in the city, and I was on my way there when I saw the two of you, and I felt God telling me to stop and tend to you."

It was a miracle! For I don't believe in mere coincidences, I knew there and then that the mercy of God had intervened. Of all vehicle drivers passing us to and fro along the busy carriageway, the one taxi driver who spotted us happened to be a church pastor, in tune with what God was telling him. The driver dropped us off by the front door of the guest house, and bidding us farewell, he drove off, leaving us to check-in at Reception, the very desk where I sat and administered six years earlier.

Stella Carmel Guest House.

And there are other hosteling trips I did overseas with other people - all of us young(ish) unmarried men. Four trips, if I remember, all between 1986 and 1989. The first two trips with four other mates, the third one with two of the same friends. And the fourth with just one from the group, making two of us on that particular trip. And the first two being actual cycling holidays across Holland, Belgium and Germany. And the fourth trip was also a (very testing) cycling holiday in France, over the hilly terrain of Normandy. This leaves just the third trip, without our bicycles, to Cologne in Germany, the three of us on a single-venue trip on the boat-train out from London to the English Channel crossing between Dover and Ostend in Belgium, and then by train on to Cologne. In all, by travelling with a group of friends, even independent from any operator, I have learned the meaning of fellowship and team co-operation through in-depth experiences which solo travel does not impart.

To travel as husband and wife is one thing, to travel in a small group so diverse is quite another. Between Alex and myself, there is that oneness of spirit which is unique only to married couples. My compulsion to protect my wife at an adverse situation was out of a special love reserved only for her, knowing that any harm coming to her would also hurt me badly as well, even if not physically. But among a group of young, unmarried men, we all had the instinctive ability to look after ourselves without the need for protection - at least not on the level as my wife needed while we were in Israel. 

Instead, while I spoke tender words to my wife whilst at our travels, between us men there was a lot of harmless teasing, with the ability for each of us to laugh at ourselves. And that was the real core of fellowship - the ability to laugh at oneself. Because this allowed each one of us to crack jokes at one another without hurting the recipient, or to pierce his heart, with myself being an easy target for teasing! There was even one moment I thought I had lost my bunch of keys, all on a single keyring, or that I had left them behind at the hostel where we spent the previous night. So there I was in a panic, emptying my backpack on the ground, and while I was rifling nervously through the contents, one of my mates called out what was that lump bulging out one of my pockets. When I shoved my hand into the pocket, lo and behold, there were the keys! This particular incident has become the main source of laughter and endless teasing for years to come, believe me! But the secret of such joviality was to laugh with them.

But once on the road, we all cycled in harmony, often with myself leading. And there was one occasion when I was called at from behind to slow down because one of our group was struggling. So I slowed down for the rest of the leg of the journey. (And to right the balance, there was another occasion when I was struggling, and I had to call out to the rest to ease it a little.) But whatever we might have faced or experienced during these trips, there was that one single bond which held us all together, and that was our unity in Jesus Christ. Except for one, the rest of us all attended a church of our own choice, and our universal belief in the historicity of the Bible is the inspired Word of God. But the exception was an unbeliever who came with us on the first trip (replaced by another, a believer, on the second trip). Yet he knew what the rest of us believed in and had respect for our faith, and has enjoyed a deep friendship with us before marrying and moving away.

But also what I have found very intriguing about these trips, especially with our bicycles, is that there was no social class distinction among us. Our small group consisted of an accountant, a banker, an architectural assistant, a kitchen porter, and a domestic window cleaner (that is, me). None of us had upheld one job being greater or with a higher status than another. The unbeliever who accompanied us on the first trip also worked at an office desk. But there was not an iota of snobbery found among us. Such is the wonder of the power of the Holy Spirit in us. 

At Cologne, Germany, 1987

Unity in Christ. The only power that can bring a bunch of men of such diverse opinions and such different ways of life to one of agreement among us. Like with my solo trips, we spent each night at a different hostel. But rather unlike hosteling as a lone individual where I tend to make conversation easily, in a group we tended to keep ourselves to ourselves, without giving any time to fellow hostellers. In a way that was a shame, because with Jesus Christ in us, I'm sure we could have offered something. 

But the point in all this is, whether as a married couple or a group of unmarried young men, God takes delight in fellowship. As it is written,

How good it is when brothers live together in unity! 

It is like the precious oil on the head, running down on the beard, running down on Aaron's beard, running down upon the collar of his robes.

It is as if the dew of Hermon were falling on Mount Zion.

For the LORD bestows his blessing, even life forevermore.

Psalm 133.

For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.

Matthew 18:20.

Love is the greatest force in the Universe, for God, its Creator who is Love.

Ah! Childhood Christmas!

When I was a boy, Christmas Day did not last for merely a day. Rather it lasted until I returned to school. I guess it began when dreary November gave way to December and with it, the appearance of the Christmas tree at our home, the real one which emits that familiar fragrance only that species of Fir can emit - the fragrance of Christmas joy with presents wrapped in cheerful paper together with a ring of fallen pine leaves slowly accumulating at the base of the tree, itself decorated with fragile glass baubles, strings of tinsel, and small chocolate Santas. Then those Christmas lights, wonderful when all illuminating together but one hell of a curse if one of the bulbs blows!

But the sheer excitement was at daybreak after a sleepless night, when the call came and I found myself rushing from the bedroom to the lounge where all the presents appeared as if by magic overnight. Dressed in pyjamas, the thought of washing my face and dressing in day clothes were as far from my mind as the South Pole is from the Sahara Desert. This was around 1960, give or take, when on that particular Christmas morning, I rushed into the lounge to find an electric train circuit already laid out on the main dining table. Over it stood my Uncle, Dad's elder brother, expecting me to make the bee-line to the miniature railway, and failing to notice the stack of wrapped presents piled nearby. As if fulfilling his expectations, he began to deliver his lecture:

Now, if you had a box of sweets just here, and you took one sweet after another, what would you be left with?

An empty box? I answered, nervously at this apparently huge man.

That is right. You'll be left with an empty box. Now these batteries are just like the sweet box. Use up the electricity and the batteries will lose their power. Now just one circuit.

I switched on the control and the train started to move, and rolled effortlessly until it was where it started.

Now switch off.

But Uncle....

You don't play any more on this until later!

But...

LATER!

As to calm the situation, Mum intercepted by lifting the pile of other presents and holding it in front, with the words:

Hey, don't forget all these.

One of the brightly wrapped parcels revealed a Lego building set, which took up much of the morning and sufficient enough to take my mind off the forbidden train set.

Although my Uncle's intentions were good, his attitude with the train set and its batteries did not endear my heart to him. Fortunately, the Lego building set saved the day and with it we all had a very good Christmas. But after my Dad's brother and his wife left our house to return home, yes you've guessed it. I was all over the train set, and once alone in the house, while Mum and Dad were both at work and school was still out, I deliberately left the train set racing round the circuit while I went out to the shops, not just to test the endurance of the batteries, but also to spite my absent Uncle. There it is. The law, meant to benefit my well-being and my parent's finances at the same time, instead brought out the reality of sin, kicking up a rebellion against this R.A.F. Warrant Officer.

Christmas is meant to be a time of joy, the giving and receiving of presents, to remind each other of the love between family members. Surely, there can't be anything more exhilarating for a father than to watch his son's eyes sparkle with excitement as he races to rip off the wrapper and shouts with exuberant joy as his gift is revealed. Then watching away the hours as the youngster keeps himself fully engaged with his gift. A sense of accomplishment for the Dad? Isn't that is what Christmas is all about, rather than arguing over the socks his wife had given him, or about a jumper he wouldn't be seen dead in, or for that matter, having a row over what to watch on TV or whose turn it is to do the washing up? I guess that's the reality. As soon as pandering to self starts to creep in, sooner or later the atmosphere will be spoilt when anger follows.

But the point is this. When a parent gives something to his offspring for Christmas (or for any other occasion) it is a demonstration of love. And that is regardless on how the recepient behaves afterwards. As far as I have ever known, I never had any present withdrawn as a result of poor performance. Neither have I known anyone else losing their present, nor have I ever heard of the keeping or withdrawal of a gift on the basis of behaviour or attitude. The gift is an expression of one's love, and surely this cannot be more manifest between husband and wife, especially if the gift is gotten at a great expense. If our own experience has anything to go by, I love my wife dearly and she knows it. Would she then go for another man just because I love her so dearly? The question is, can she do what she wants, knowing that my love for her would not fail? Yes she can. But would she? That is something very different. If I make such a suggestion, she would take offence. Whenever I leave her alone in the house to go to work, I never have to ponder on what she is up to at my absence.

But just suppose she was unfaithful, how would I respond? Would I divorce her, and separate myself from her for the rest of my life? That depends on how much I love her. If divorce is inevitable, then this shows a performance-based love. That is, my love will flow only if she walks the right way. But if I found that I love her anyway, regardless of her behaviour, how would she re-act? Chances would be that my love and acceptance of her would touch her heart for life, and never want to act that way again. That is grace!

I'm not merely pulling stories out of the hat here. Throughout adult life I have personally known two husbands who were unfaithful to their wives by each sleeping with another woman. One wife had kicked her unfaithful husband out of their home and has dissolved their marriage. But the wife of the other guy had forgiven him, and she stayed with him. As far as I'm aware, their marriage remains robust. Real love covers a multitude of sins, with himself loving his wife with a greater fervour than before.

Maybe this could be the reason why such a large percentage of the population don't attend church, nor accept the Bible as authoritative. They perceive God's love to be a performance-based, and not much good at that either. There is even a line of thought among the churches that natural disasters such as the Indian Ocean tsunamis which wiped out countless thousands exactly ten years ago was God's judgement on sin. Such a reasoning does not draw anyone's heart close to God at all, but does instill fear of punishment, and with the distant feeling which matches exactly the relationship between my Uncle and myself in 1960, which was manifest at his funeral in 1998, when I showed respect for his widowed wife's sake, but inwardly felt no sense of loss.

And as I write this blog, there has been some consideration lately whether I want to remain at my local church, the place I call my spiritual home. This has developed due to a strong dislike felt towards me by another person in our church. This guy from London believes in a pretty miserable and truculent God, who I have no desire to follow, let alone worship. This is a direct result of Probational Salvation, or Conditional Security. Perform, perform, perform, or there is a danger of Hellfire. In fact, according to this Londoner, at the Judgement I could well be one of many who will stand outside crying, "Lord, Lord" of Matthew 7:21. I have been told by him that I was wicked, deceitful, blind, wilful, and have driven some out of the fellowship, and many more have complained about me to him (but no one came to me.) So what was this great evil I was so guilty of? Oh yes, showing affection to other men by hugging them.

Yes I agree to a certain extent that there were a few who, over the years, I was insensitive. And to one of them I have apologised. That was several months before he left the church altogether. But according to this brother from London, it was I who drove him out, along with his family. But that did not seem to be the case, as they stayed on long after I made the apology. Rather they left our fellowship because they did not feel right about worshipping God at a racecourse, a national venue for gambling. This kind of attitude is quite common among those with a Pentecostal upbringing, from which this family came.

Why have I "washed the linen in public" so to speak? To show how effective this "Conditional love" can have on our perception of God and with others. This Londoner's God is perceived by him as thin-skinned, critical and judgemental towards all those who don't walk the straight and narrow. No wonder he sees me in exactly the same way. How you see God is how you treat others. However, through prayer and insight, my intention is to be less insensitive, and show a greater respect for the right of others. In the weeks to come, I'll see how that works before I may even consider leaving.

But here is the point. I could never be drawn to a God whose love is conditioned by performance, which includes holding faithful and abstaining from sin. The trouble is, we sin all the time. For example, am I sinning against God by eating pork? I eat pork nearly every day. Or wearing a woolly over a cotton shirt? (Leviticus 19:19) - Or even failing to grow and keep a beard? (Leviticus 19:27) - "Oh," you may say. "The death of Christ on the cross has dealt with all that, we are no longer under the Law." Perhaps not. But what if I were to say that before I married, not a few times I embraced a homosexual and held him tight in my arms. "Ah! Now that's different," I hear you say. Then out comes a quote from 1 Corinthians 6:9, saying that all homosexual offenders shall not inherit the Kingdom of God. Never mind that this verse is taken out of context, and Paul was discussing about saints taking disputes to unbelieving magistrates. Rather in my case I have crossed a line between not growing a beard and giving comfort to a gay man, and receiving comfort from him too. No sex involved, instead just locked in a tight embrace.

And all this would make a very interesting scenario if Jesus Christ would be around today. To those who believe in Conditional Security, Jesus would strike dead the two of us locked in a tight embrace, and send us tumbling into Hell, while giving commendation to the family who thought that worshipping at a racecourse was wrong and unholy. Ditto with the poor guy not wearing a tie in church, but to the one smartly dressed, he will reserve for him a place in Heaven. What a load of tosh all this is!

Rather, I believe in the Jesus who would heartily embrace a homosexual man, who would socialise in a tavern, who would talk to hard-core gamblers at a casino, to the down and out in scruffy clothes, to the smoker and heavy drinker. I'm sure he would find himself at home at an A&E of a city hospital, giving hope to the drunken yobs who were caught in a street brawl. In short, God so loved the world.

These are the very people the Lord laid down his life for, to atone for all their sins. This is the love that wins the heart, making the follower wanting, in his own will, to cease from sin, and not by instilling a fear of punishment. This is the love that shines so bright, that all his own righteousness becomes less than nothing by comparison.  It is a love that draws, which brings a response.

Like the child with a new toy. That's why I believe that giving of gifts should be done at other times of the year as well as at Christmas. Let the parent demonstrate his love for his son or daughter. Giving a gift is the same as God giving us the gift of salvation, fully free and totally without merit, but with much love. Unconditional love, without the threat of taking the gift away if the child misbehaves. Sure enough, I do believe in discipline, but that should always be for the child's own good, and not to satisfy the lust for revenge. The thing is, the lad can tell the difference.

And so a self-righteous pharisee in our fellowship has been a heavy burden to my soul. In no way could he edify me by his methods. Sure, I give my insensitivity a think-over, but he could never muster love in my heart, because he has no love in himself for God, for himself, or those like me who happen to walk a different path. So I was left with no alternative but to throw his heavy yoke off my shoulders, because it was hurting my heart. And that's how tragic on how the world sees the church. They don't stay away because they are so evil and wicked. They stay away because they cannot see love, only judgement, hypocrisy and self righteousness.

Oh, for the love of Christ to shine in us so brightly, all our fears and doubts would melt away, and be as excited over his gift of salvation as the young lad with his Christmas present.

Happy New Year!