Travel Biography - Week 107.

Please note: This week's blog contains pics of the Great Barrier Reef, and is not directly related to the content of the article.

Santa Monica - the final day.

As all good things must end, the 1997 Round-the-World would follow suit. While I was checking out Malibu, waves of sadness came and went, as I had one more night at the AYH Santa Monica. The next day, I didn't have to check out immediately, as the British Airways flight would take off in the late evening. I would land at London Heathrow by midmorning on Wednesday, August 2nd, 1997. Only then, would the Round-the-World be complete, as the name indicates, I finished where I started.

During the 1997 stop at Santa Monica, I didn't take many photos of the area. I was more camera-happy two years earlier on my first visit in 1995. Instead, on this week's blog, I'll be posting photos of what I believe was the brightest highlight of the entire 1997 RTW trip - at the Great Barrier Reef, both at Green Island and Low Isles. I'm aware that you might have seen them before, yet I hope you'll still enjoy the pictures. All of them were taken by me or at my request at the venues.

At Cairns, 1997, heading to the Great Barrier Reef.

Getting ready to snorkel, Low Isles Coral Cay.

Corals, Green Island Coral Cay.

Green Island Corals.

I spent my last day in California within the confines of Santa Monica. This included spending time strolling along the Pier, watching the waves of the Pacific Ocean roll along the wide sandy beach. As I looked out to sea towards the horizon, I was aware of the Queensland coastline directly across the ocean, yet, so far away and so much out of sight and hidden by the curvature of the Earth. Already, my heart was pining to be there, to snorkel over the Great Barrier Reef, to be mesmerised by the diverse aquatic life, the colourful fishes intermingling with the coral polyps. Yet, without a doubt, it was a wonderful privilege to have been there in the first place.

To be back in England with its changeable weather, the return to work cleaning windows of residents whose unique proverb is, the Englishman's Home is his Castle, along with the summing up of our island culture at the foot of a letter sent to me by a friend whilst I was a volunteer in Israel 1994 - You, feeling homesick? For a land of stiff upper lips, white shirts and ties, and no hugging. The letter has long disappeared, but that last line has stuck with me ever since. And so the waves of sadness. And a return to work with all the responsibilities of self-employment. At least that was much better than anticipating submission to a strict or unruly boss. 

Furthermore, the following year was 1998 - World Cup football. AAARGH! That time of the four years when most of my church friends would crowd around the TV cheering England, along with the neighbours whose loud cheer would filter through the wall of my apartment when a goal was scored. Woe betide me if England would ever be matched with Italy - and England wins! I would be a target of teasing and mockery - especially if these supporters had egos inflamed by jealousy over my worldwide travels. I knew that the only solution was to be out of the UK during the Final. In other words, flee the UK for my sanity.

Along with strolling along the pier, the 3rd Street Promenade wasn't far to walk to. This was a pedestrianised street bustling with life as shopping malls lined the street. One mall, in particular, was quite roomy, potted palm trees were everywhere while the ground floor was lined with shops and the overhanging 2nd-floor balconies seated restaurant customers. This mall was so huge, so well designed, I wondered why no British architect had ever thought of such aesthetics in the UK. Especially with the installation of palm trees and other subtropical vegetation that would survive well under cover and away from the winter cold outside.

Green Island.

Low Isles Coral Cay.

Low Isles

Low Isles.

The Flight Home.

When evening arrived, I knew that I had to make my way to the LAX International Airport. Having already vacated my hostel bed, my rucksack was kept in safe custody at the reception. Nothing unusual about that, as many who vacated the hostel also headed for the airport. Most flights to Britain and Europe from California were overnight flights. Mine was no exception.

There was a direct local bus service from Santa Monica to the airport without the need to go Downtown. After arrival, I checked in for my flight to London Heathrow without a hitch. Strange as it may seem, the last time I was at this airport, I had just flown in from Sydney and was here when I made the connecting flight to San Diego. The longest flight I had ever taken was immediately followed by the shortest with the connection here in Los Angeles. And now, the British Airways Transatlantic long-haul back to London.

Perhaps surprisingly, I wasn't sad when I boarded the airline. Rather, I was anticipating the journey ahead. I also felt a sense of relief. Throughout the ten weeks I was out of the UK, I never felt ill, although I did have some flu-like symptoms soon after arriving in Singapore. Fortunately, I had enough foresight to pack some Paracetamol before take-off from London Heathrow. The relief the medicine brought indicated that the symptoms were the result of rapid change of climate to my health. As the rucksack was loaded into the luggage hold here in L.A., there was still some Paracetamol left in it. Thank goodness I didn't fall seriously ill or suffer a broken bone in an accident here in California! Indeed, I was insured, but to what extent the cover would have reached had something happened? There are true stories of British tourists forced to sell their homes to pay for the exorbitant price of American healthcare.

As usual, on the plane, I had a window seat. But as it was already getting dark as we took off, I saw virtually nothing, and neither had I wanted to. For example, had we flown over the Grand Canyon, and that was quite a possibility, the view from 35,000 feet might have resulted in mixed emotions. I was better off with the blinds down.

By daybreak, we were served in-flight breakfast before landing. Our plane was already flying over the English countryside in broad daylight before landing at Heathrow. When we alighted, the silence as we walked through the arrivals corridor to Passport Control brought me to the realisation that here in Britain, any chatter and banter wasn't the done thing. I could go as far as to say that the sound of footsteps amidst the silence of stiff upper lips almost turned the air gloopy. Indeed, after ten weeks away, I had to readjust to British life.

Passing through Passport was a breeze, unlike in Cairns and Los Angeles. After collecting my rucksack from the luggage carousel, I made my way to the arrivals lounge from where I waited for a bus direct to Bracknell.

The last part of the journey was so different from the first one. Ten weeks earlier, I took a train from Martins Heron Station to Earls Court where I spent the first night before flying out. On this journey, I didn't go to London. Instead, a direct bus service linked Heathrow Airport to Bracknell.

Low Isles.

Low Isles.

Low Isles

Low Isles

Arrived Home - and it Happens...

Finally, I inserted the key into my apartment door and walked in - into an empty, silent bedsit apartment, originally built for a single occupant. The silence was deafening, as before leaving, I made sure that there was no perishable food left behind. With a stock of canned food ready for use, this allowed me to turn off the refrigerator before departure and shut down the main power. On my return, it was this overwhelming silence that got to me. No more hustle and bustle of life, chatter and banter every time I entered a hostel. No more preparing meals in the company of others, starting conversations and turning strangers into acquaintances, even friendships. No more looking at different things causing my eyes to pop in wonder in such a far away, unfamiliar environment. Instead, the familiarity of home was something I had to adjust to - even if gradually.

I felt my emotions plunge to unfathomable depths. A classic case of post-holiday blues. The emotion almost paralysed me for a while as I found myself unable to move and make decisions.

After turning on the power and the fridge, the gentle purring of the motor helped me to start thinking. I had a stack of undeveloped films waiting to be processed. But that could wait until the next day. Ready to go out to work? No, not at all! I had a further four days of respite before I was good to lift the ladders. I needed those days of respite to pull myself together.

Post-holiday blues. The longer the vacation, the deeper the depression felt after it's all over. I have even read that at the time, Trailfinders, the travel agent in London where I bought my airline tickets, was operating a post-holiday counselling service, a therapy session for distressed backpackers to get back to their daily routines. Indeed, this was something I needed. But instead of a trip to London to talk to a stranger, much closer to home there lives a Christian couple, Tim and Sharon, personal friends of mine. I called them over the phone. Sharon answered, and when she heard that it was me who just arrived back, she invited me to her home.

I arrived at their home after a short cycle ride. I was greeted warmly by both Tim and Sharon. We spent the evening together as I shared my adventures. I was in far better spirits by the time I arrived back home. With the hundreds of photos I still had to deal with, it didn't take long to adapt to normal living.

Low Isles

Low Isles.

However, the long-term effect of the RTW lasted months, even years. And these are in the form of dreams. All these dreams featured Heathrow Airport. One dream saw me standing outside the departure terminal in the warm sunshine but unable to enter the building. Another dream was that I was in a vehicle on the motorway, and I felt my emotions tighten as we drove fast past the airport. But a third dream had the greatest effect, as I remember well.

I dreamt that it was three years after I landed at Heathrow (hence the year 2000). And I was back there, this time with both Dad and his older brother. We were at Heathrow to welcome a relative who was about to arrive. Uncle was very authoritative, and he looked at me as if I was a mischievous child. Indeed, both towered over me as if I had rejuvenated back to adolescence, yet retained every memory of my 1997 Round-the-World adventure. On our way to the airport, I saw the Earls Court hostel where I spent the first night. That alone crushed my feelings, wishing that I could go back in time and re-live those glorious experiences without these two pesky adults at my side.

But more was to follow. The three of us entered the departure lounge, and I saw the same checking-in desks, the same facilities I used three years earlier, but held in restraint by my uncle. Three years earlier, I was there on my own, preparing to fly to Singapore. Now, I'm told to behave and wait with them for the arrival of the relative - whom I never saw, as I woke up just then. But the details of that dream have stuck to this day.

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But there was one issue which, at the time, I knew nothing about. Even before I took off to Singapore, someone had noticed me and began to watch me from a distance. A young, fiery spitfire of a teenage girl, a tomboy, had her discreet eyes on me. She attended the same church I was attending, with her older sister and her parents. Indeed, this fast, sleek speedboat had her eyes on a slow, creaking ship.

Could she change my destiny?

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Next Week: The 1998 World Cup Football Tournament sends me to the Airport.

What a Weeping Cissy!

A certain man had two wives, which means that under our present law he could be classed as a Bigamist. His first wife was the older of the two, whose weak eyes spoilt her facial beauty. However, his second wife, who turned out to be the first wife's younger sister, was strikingly beautiful, and it was of no surprise that she became her husband's true love, at the cost of his older wife's misery. However, the older spouse successfully gave birth the six of his sons in her desperate but unsuccessful attempt to win her husband's heart, whilst the ravaging beauty remained childless. Even two additional concubines each became mothers of two more of his sons, making a further four in all, totalling ten sons altogether.  

At last, his younger wife gave birth to his son when his firstborn had already grown up. Not long after this, his older wife died prematurely, most likely from a broken heart, and was buried in the family tomb. The man referred to here was Jacob, who was renamed Israel, and to anyone even faintly acquainted with the Bible through Sunday school classes, Jacob's wives were Leah and Rachel. Poor Leah! Enduring a loveless marriage, yet able to give birth to six of his sons, including Judah the fourth-born, who carried the Messianic Line. Rachel at last had given birth to Joseph whilst at middle age. As a result, Joseph became daddy's favourite, much to the jealousy of his older brothers. And this feeling of jealousy towards their youngest brother was not only universally shared, but it also morphed into hatred - especially after cockily revealing to them that he will one day rule over his brothers.

Joseph was around sixteen or seventeen years when he was rewarded with a sibling from his own mother. But this was a bittersweet experience for both Joseph and his father. His favourite wife died at childbirth, and she was buried at a separate location, away from the family tomb. Unfortunately, we are not told when Leah died, but when she did, it must have been close to Hebron where the family tomb, also known as the Cave of Machpelah, is located. However, it was most likely that Jacob was already a double-widower by the time the ten older brothers had sold their teenage sibling to the Midianites, who were heading to Egypt.

What a crush this must have been to poor Joseph! Some time after being sold as a slave to an Egyptian governor Potiphar, the handsome slave was falsely accused of attempted rape by Potiphar's wife, after having her advances and her attempts to seduce him snubbed by him during his master's absence. He was then thrown into prison, what looks to be for an indefinite term. 

Whilst in prison for a crime he didn't commit, such a circumstance could have been a just cause for self-pity, bitterness, or even rage. There was a high likelihood that he was still grieving for his late mother, he misses watching his younger brother Benjamin, whose birth he might well have witnessed, grow up into adulthood, and pondering what his father may be thinking and feeling. Does his father believe that he is still alive somewhere? Or does he believe that he is dead, and therefore grieving for his favourite son? There is no way he can glean such information. But at least he may be comforted by the fact that none of his older brothers would have been aware of his imprisonment. Such thoughts of them gloating over his fate might have been enough to send him over the cliff. Instead, by walking in the Holy Spirit, he knew how to build a good relationship with both the wardens and fellow prisoners alike. 

And so a steward reveals to a troubled Pharaoh about how a dream he had was interpreted by Joseph, and his prediction came true. The former slave was released from prison, and after interpreting Pharaoh's two dreams, he was promoted to Prime Minister, the second in rank after the King himself and therefore just about equal in authority. It was some years later, when a severe famine had struck, when all his ten older brothers arrived to buy grain to take home to their father.

Although Joseph acted stoically during their first encounter, having recognised his brothers, he had emotions which he had to hide from them. This we know, for the narrator slips in the little incident of turning to weep during a brief interval (Genesis 42:24). It could be the thought of his missing brother and his deceased mother which caused his emotions to rise. Or it could be just the presence of his own family in a strange and foreign land. Whatever it might have been, it was some time later, when his younger brother, who was also the son of Jacob and Rachel, turned up with the others. Here, the narrator does not hold back when he writes, "And Joseph made haste; for his bowels did yearn upon his brother: and he sought where to weep; and he entered into his chamber, and wept there."

Genesis 43:30, AV.

Soon after, the narrator adds, "Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them that stood by him; and he cried, Cause every man to go out from me. And there stood no man with him, while Joseph made himself known unto his brethren.

And he wept aloud: and the Egyptians and the house of Pharaoh heard."

Genesis 45:1-2, AV.

It goes on, "And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck, and wept; and Benjamin wept upon his neck.

Moreover he kissed all his brethren, and wept upon them: and after that his brethren talked with him."

Genesis 45:14-15, AV.

Here is one of the most powerful rulers of Egypt, next to Pharaoh himself, yet he had no qualms about weeping in company. If God has ever been wise on how to bring out love, pity and affection from others, it is in the form of shedding tears, especially in the company of loved ones. I have always admired this particular Bible character because of this alone. Two more characters I can think of who also had no qualms weeping in company. One of these is the apostle Paul. He was the apostle to the Gentiles, used mightily by God to spread the Gospel to non-Jews across the Roman Empire and founded churches in his known world. With leanings towards a work-loving Choleric temperament, Paul had the natural ability of a strong leader, determined, courageous, and tend to persevere undaunted in his task, regardless on how difficult it might be or what obstacles he may face in his determination to finish his project. But of what he naturally lacks was compassion for the more timid, as well as being prone to anger. A striking example of this was when he came to blows with his best mate and partner Barnabas, recorded in Acts 15:36-41. The disagreement was over John Mark quitting from his role in their mission and returned to Jerusalem, which is recorded in Acts 13:13. Unlike Barnabas, with his gentle nature and willing to give John Mark another chance, Paul couldn't stand quitters, so he refused to have John Mark accompany them for the next mission.

Another example of Paul's short fuse is recorded in Acts 23:3 where he stands before an accusing Sanhedrin. A priest strikes him on the cheek, to whom he responds: May God strike you, you whitewashed wall! Then not to leave out Paul's contention with Peter for his hypocrisy shown before Gentile believers eating at table, recorded in Galatians 2:1-14, when Peter, Barnabas, among other Jews, suddenly withdrew from the table when news arrived that devout Jewish believers sent by James were due to arrive at any moment.

Then comes this verse, even if it's the only one of its kind coming from Paul's pen. It is 2 Corinthians 2:4 where he writes that, "For out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote unto you with many tears; not that ye should be grieved, but that ye might know the love which I have more abundantly unto you." There is one other verse which testify of Paul's tears, and it's recorded by Luke in Acts 20:31, which reads, "Therefore watch, and remember, that by the space of three years I ceased not to warn any one night and day with tears." 

The public showing of emotion by someone like Paul is very much out of his natural character! His dominant emotion was chiefly anger, with a general lack of natural love, affection and compassion. And so to read of his post-conversion life as one shedding tears in public for the benefit of fellow-believers must be miraculous indeed - someone who had allowed the Holy Spirit to work within him by softening his character for the benefit of those he was to minister to. It is the power of the Holy Spirit to minimise his anger by adding tenderness, along with love and gentleness to his character. As a result, I would not be surprised to see Paul embracing another man as he cries tears on his neck - very much the same way Joseph did over his brother Benjamin.

Then who can forget the shortest verse in the entire Bible? It is John 11:35, which simply says, "Jesus wept." Here is the Jewish Messiah, the Christ, Son of God, Son of Man - weeping in public. An incident noted by all twelve disciples, along with the Pharisees, for they commented on how much Jesus loved Lazarus, who had just died recently and was buried in rock tomb. Of course, Jesus walked in the power of the Holy Spirit without a single fail. He was indeed God manifest in the flesh, and there he was, with the Cross well within his sight, crying like a child over the death of a loved one.

Which brings me to ask: Was Joseph, with his abundance of tears, a cissy? He cried out so loudly over his brother Benjamin that it was heard as far away as Pharaoh's house. Then there was Paul, the determined, hard working, persevering, opinionated, and often angry religious Jew who formerly persecuted Christian believers, rounding them up to bring them into Jerusalem to face prosecution, quite likely execution. He set off on that task with determination. He wouldn't let anything stand in his way while he was on that road to Damascus. So intense was his determination, that the Lord had to literally blind him just to make him see the error of his ways. Then, after that, he testifies of his weeping in public as part of his ministry to edify fellow believers. Had God really changed Paul from a strong, masculine and determined man into a weak, quivering wreck of a weeping Nancy-boy?

Or did God transform Paul into a proper masculine man?

Because Jesus himself was a proper masculine man, yet he had no qualms to cry in public.

And these are the three Biblical characters who had no qualms about showing emotion in public, or even to give a hug. And one of the three happens to be God incarnate. And so I write this blog a week after visiting my former church, which is now the Kerith Centre in my hometown of Bracknell. 

I became a regular member of Bracknell Baptist Church as it was then, in the Spring of 1975, just over two years after conversion. Over the years I have watched people come and go, including witnessing the deaths of many of its older members. And the arrival of new members, especially from 1978 onward, from universities across the country. This was due to several high-tech companies setting up business in our town and began trading here. These companies attracted young graduates as employees, who also began to fill our churches. Some of these graduates are still here with us to this day. And so I have seen when I paid a visit to the Kerith Centre last Sunday, when our own fellowship at Ascot had closed due to many attending West Point Bible Festival near Exeter. And so I was recognised by at least two of them, but not a single greeting, not a question asked how my walk with God is progressing, nor how my wife or family are keeping, or even if I'm enjoying retirement and what I do to occupy my spare time. Instead, just a stone-cold expression on their faces as they went about church business. Not that I was invisible. I wasn't invisible. I was seen. And I was ignored. Thankfully, I did spend some time enjoying a conversation with a couple of other members who had a genuine interest in my welfare. To them I will always be grateful. And having had a rather lengthy chat with one of them, I left the building feeling edified and with a general feeling of acceptance. But had those two had not been there, then I would have been ignored entirely by those who knew me for the past 35-40 years. 

I guess it's a very different environment from Biblical times, when men lived in tents and tended sheep. Our society of today is vastly different from Joseph's day. I realise that. Today we are far, far better educated, far more aware of class, profession, wealth, and status, and quite likely awareness of physical good looks too. And the end result being the cliquey culture, an in-group/out-group basis for acceptance depending on like attracting like. In other words, if you are different, then you're out, ignored, rejected. The trouble with this kind of set up is, if I have a genuine concern for their welfare, their walk with God, health, jobs, etc, then this makes it difficult to break the ice, because of a fear of rejection. This could mean the person whom I approaching turning and walking away, as if I'm chasing him - and believe me, that has happened before now in church! More likely it would mean delivering just one answer - "fine" - and then turning to speak to someone else or engage in a task. 

It is deplorable, coming to think of it. Then I wonder why, in a so-called "Christian Country" maybe up to 98% of the English population are heading towards a lost eternity? Do you realise that this grieves my spirit? Here I'm talking about the influence of Christian believers living in a cliquey, in-group/out-group culture. Say, for example, they arrive here in September 1980. That is 37 years to this day. Such a duration would cover 1,924 sermons preached, one every Sunday. Of course, no one would attend all 1,924 sermons. We have to allow for absences, including holidays, sabbaticals, work rota, illness, family issues, or simply the desire to stay in bed. But with the approaching of two thousand sermons, many of these sermons carrying weighty power, can lives really remain unchanged after all that time? After all, would I be able to distinguish a Christian graduate who is an established church member from another graduate, unchurched and an atheist?

Other than Jesus Christ, I think one of the Bible characters whom I lift my hat in respect has to be Joseph. Despite suffering ill-treatment throughout much of his youth by older brothers consumed by jealousy, he loved them to the end. And he embraced each one of them, and wept over each one of them unashamedly. If I had been there myself, I probably would have wept simply by watching.

There is something about Jesus instructions for every believer to love each other. He taught that this was the only way the world would know that we are his disciples. That we love one another (John 13:35) and to love one another is proof that we are born of God. And sorry to they this, but this godly love does not mean cliques! Neither does it mean listening to sermons every week then forgetting them, either. For that matter, it does not mean being good at the church electronic monitoring consoles either, or to be a good steward with a collection basket. Or to be good at the guitar, keyboard or drums. It means embracing with genuine love and acceptance all with different backgrounds and of all kinds of characteristics and personalities. 

In recent years I was told off by our church elders at Ascot for hugging too much. The main reason given was that hugging is not part of our culture. Hugging is not British. Between men, it's not masculine. It is a crying shame that because we are not physical brothers, we are culture-bound not to show affection. A limp shaking of the hands together with talk about business are acceptable, but not showing affection. 

Indeed, it's a crying shame.

David and the Giant - Worry.

You have been out for the evening and you are now walking back home alone late one Friday night. Your route passes through a narrow alleyway, which cuts the walk short by several hundred metres. Then about halfway through the alley, a gang of youths, about four or five of them in all, enter the alley where you are due to exit. They were high on alcohol, one of them picks up a stone and throws it at a semi-derelict window, cracking the glass, while laughing and guffawing at their misdeed.

You feel your heart beat faster to force oxygenated blood into every muscles of your body, your skin crawl and your hair as if standing on end. Your breathing becomes heavy, and within the bloodstream, extra platelets are produced in readiness of a possible wound, within the blood coagulates faster, saving on blood loss. And sitting on top of each kidney, your Adrenal gland pumps an endorphin, Adrenaline, which alert you to either fight or take flight.

Even if you run, they get exactly what they wanted and start chasing you, nevertheless you run, and run fast! Because you know that by confronting them, you would have been the loser, ending up in hospital with a smashed face or as with these days, a stab wound, possibly fatal. This little drama is the result of fright, a magnificent mechanism in ensuring self preservation. This reaction to an emergency is caused by a rush of adrenaline into the bloodstream, a direct result of the warning message passed to the brain from the eyes and ears. Afterwards, the spent endorphin will then be disposed of by the kidneys after the threat is past. I guess it is of no coincidence that the Adrenal glands happen to be located sitting on the kidneys themselves.

The Kidneys and Adrenal Glands

The same when a domestic cat is confronted by a dog. The cat arches its back, hisses, its heart races to pump adrenaline-rich blood to all the muscles in its body and the cat flees, usually up a tree or over a nearby wall. Fright had taken its course again.

Fright reaction is caused by a massive injection of adrenaline into the bloodstream, and it is for self-preservation in the face of a potential, life-threatening situation. But fear is something very different. Another term for fear is worry, and I think that there is no real difference between the two words, except that fear is to do with a potential physical uncertainty, while worry has more to do with uncertainty of the future.

For example, if you are fearful, then you will look down the alleyway and hesitate to take the short cut, and despite that all is still and quiet, you decide to avoid it, and take the longer but more safer route. During that moment, adrenaline is pumping into your bloodstream, even if there was no cause for concern. In fact the fear could quite well continue, even once you're safe in bed. It's just the thought of what could have happened that keeps the fear alive, and doing so, the Adrenal glands continue to pump the endorphin into the bloodstream, and if prolonged, can cause lasting harm to your health.

Worry is related to fear, and it means uncertainty of the future. One of the biggest causes of worry is money. Do we have sufficient funds to pay our creditors? In my younger days, before Direct Debit, anxiety over the quarterly power bill always preceded the arrival of the bill itself. Back then I had no real idea of the total the bill will display at the bottom of the column. The worry was, would the figure be so high that I didn't have enough to meet it? I had ideas of facing a Court hearing, possibly a jail term - such stirring of imagination caused by an uncertainty had a detrimental power over my health, particularly to one who was a natural-born worrier. Thank goodness for the arrival of the Direct Debit system. This arrangement in regular payments had lifted a very heavy burden of worry.

Payment of bills was one cause of worry, another was in preparation for travel. If you check my profile, or click on to one of my previous articles, Vagabond! (8th May, 2011), you will see that I have traveled a good part of the world. But it was the weeks leading up to the day of take-off. Would I fall ill? Would I be faced with a sudden, unexpected expense? And this was the big one - would there be a strike grounding the airplane? A threat of a strike had always been a worry when preparing to travel. When I flew to New York in 1978, take-off was right in the midst of the French Traffic Control dispute. That meant all flights to the Continent were delayed or postponed. While I was boarding the Transatlantic flight, right on time as well, a group of people at the next gate were told to return to the lounge. Their flight to Spain postponed yet again after a night stay at the departure lounge. A young man, about my age, rolled on the floor in hysterics, his screams of frustration echoed the length of the corridor. That scared me. No wonder that, just a year later, in 1979, the Labour Prime Minister Jim Callaghan was soundly defeated by Tory Margaret Thatcher in that year's General Election.

It is unfortunate that 33 years later I still have areas of worry. And here I want to be honest and avoid the idea of portraying myself as a "super-saint". As a committed Christian and a self-employed window cleaner, a loss of a client brings fears of the future. As with bill payments back in the 1970s and 80's, I try to imagine what it would be like being without a job, leading to homelessness with my wife Alex and I begging off the streets. Or to move across to the other side of the country just to engage in a dead-end job I wouldn't enjoy, or to have a cruel boss who takes delight in condescending upon and feeding on my personal weaknesses. And with many of my present clientele aging and drawing their pensions, along with a large proportion of the younger generation believing that we window cleaners are a waste of time and money, indeed there is much ground for worry and fear for the future.

Walking hand-in-hand with fear is anger, mainly at unfairness of life. Last week I lost a client who informed me that he now has his own ladders, and now prefers to clean his own windows.
"After all," he concludes, "during this economic crisis I must save on my expenses as much as possible."

Then only yesterday I read in the Daily Mail an excellent article by columnist Max Hastings, titled Looters in Suits. In it, he tells of our personal and economic hardship was primarily caused by the ferocious greed and incompetence of the City bankers. Starting with the collapse of the Lehman Brothers in New York during 2008, their greed caused our banks in the City of London to the brink of collapse, had it not been the bailout rescue from the tax-payer. Then after that the bankers continue to reap incredible high incomes and bonuses despite the rest of us tightening our own belts to stay out of debt. Little wonder I get angry at times!

Worry, fear and anger. The three most powerful emotions that are detrimental to our health. I have a book written by Dr. McMillen. Although the updated publication was in 1980, it is very much up to date as the first copyright in 1963. Dr. McMillen wrote that many physical illnesses, such as vomiting, diarrhea, asthma, diabetes, arthritis, along with bleeding ulcers, kidney disease, heart attacks, high blood pressure, backache, tiredness, fatigue, colitis, strokes, goiter, arteriosclerosis (a hardening of the arteries) and many other ailments are caused by these and other similar emotions.

Yet it was Jesus Christ who, during his ministry, gave a straightforward piece of advice. He said:

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds in the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labour or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his glory was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he much more clothe you, O you of little faith?

So do not worry, saying, "What shall we eat?" or "What shall we drink?" or "What shall we wear?" For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Matthew 6:25-34.

This Scripture, when mixed with faith, can be the David who defeated the giant Goliath. No doubt, when Jesus was teaching this, he did not have just our spiritual well-being. He was thinking of both our emotional and physical health as well. What he was actually doing was providing the key to happiness guaranteed to keep the doctor away if this advice was perfectly followed. This can only be done through the Holy Spirit dwelling in us.

Instead, to most people, this piece of Scripture is as far away from reality as it can get. The question here is trusting God, or faith in him. It can be very difficult to have faith in that which is invisible and intangible.

Yet these verses apply to everything I have mentioned above. Trusting in Jesus Christ and his goodness. Should this deliver me from worry and anxiety, fear of the future? It should do!

Let me go back to the things I have mentioned. Starting with bill payments - the fact is, since I flew the nest in 1976, then aged 23, I have never known to miss a bill payment. In 1980 I went through a period, just over a year in duration, when I had no job and hardly any money. I existed on a low benefit, which I had to sign for every week. One day I called at a house of a fellow church member for something, and I saw their table spread with such succulent dishes, that my eyes for a moment was transfixed. Then I walked home to my meager supplies, literally weeping tears. But then, I never went hungry. God knew what my needs were even then. Then a red-letter phone final reminder bill arrived, and I spread it on the kitchen worktop and prayed over it. Soon afterwards an anonymous envelope dropped through the door, containing enough to pay the bill. This happened a couple of times.

It was then I started my window cleaning business and became self-employed, signing myself off the benefit payroll. I have been working for more than thirty years and I have never felt in need. So if I lose a customer from time to time, I should not panic. After all, if God had taken care of me for all this time, why should he dump me in it now?

But sometimes he does. Job in the Old Testament, a very wealthy but a good man, lost everything including his health and just barely clung to life. Yet his faith in his God actually confounded the arguments of his three closest friends who tried to blame him and his sins for his losses and sorrowful state. Yet his faith triumphed. How would I react?

In travel, so far I had never been delayed by an industrial dispute. And I started traveling as early as 1972, when as still a teenager, flew to Spain with a college mate (and we are still close friends to this day). The only delay I suffered was in 1993, when a fault in the 'plane's hydraulic system delayed us for six hours at Gatwick.

Sydney, Australia - one of many places visited as a "vagabond".

Trusting in an invisible intangible God is often very difficult. He doesn't talk back audibly like a friend does. That is why prayer is essential. I have found that nothing is a better tonic than when faced with a crisis, is to bow the head in prayer, spilling out my fears and anxieties to my Heavenly Father and asking for the filling of the Holy Spirit.

But alongside prayer, we have the church. Church is not the building with a spire, it's the people in it. It is said that Jesus Christ had two bodies after his Resurrection. He took one with him to Heaven, leaving the other behind. And it wasn't on a whim or by forgetfulness! His body was left behind for a purpose.

Worry is a debilitating emotion. When a Christian finds it difficult to handle it, the members of the church are there to encourage and build up faith. At last week's loss of a client, I attended a prayer meeting that same evening. I shared my plight with one of the elders who happens to be a very good friend, and one whose spiritual life I look up to. The outward situation didn't change but I felt an inner strength to handle it better.

My encouragement to all Christian believers is to be involved with your church. The church is a group of fellow believers in Jesus. As such, it is the visible, tangible body of Christ with whom God can speak to you audibly. And together we can defeat the giant.