One Man's Threat to World Health?

A man wearing a suit and tie sitting in his office looks as respectable as any other well-educated member of staff attending to his duties. Except that this guy is quite famous - or rather infamous - as he's in full command of a strong military force, at this moment, in full progress in invading a small sovereign state.

St Michael's Church, Kyiv, Ukraine. 

And so, thoughts are going around whether the invasion into Ukraine by Russian forces is just a start of a westward expansion, and as one Facebook friend contributed in a discussion, President Vladimir Putin's real intention would be to extend his forces as far West as Lisbon, the capital city of Portugal on the Atlantic coast, thus transforming the whole of the Eurasian bloc into one revived Soviet State. 

But that was just one friend's speculation on social media. How near to the truth, or far from it, only time would tell. Also whether the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation or NATO would flex its own muscles to defend its territories, or would it just sit there, powerless to do anything while the enemy's pride and determination are inflated further.

And so the newspapers, especially The Daily Mail lead its readers to believe that we're on the brink of World War Three, a situation comparable to 1939. But then again, such a newspaper has a habit of adding extra colour to specific events, especially on the coming spell of inclement weather. After all, the whole object of the newspaper industry is to sell.

Just to imagine an advert identical to the 1914 poster featuring the image of Lord Kitchener pointing his finger directly at every passerby, with the words, Britons Needs You! appearing at every street corner. If I had read this correctly, I think there was a General who suggested that if a global war were to break out, mandatory conscription may be on the cards. After all, most Ukrainian men aged between 18 and 60, both in the military and civilians, are called to fight the invading Russian forces, and a large percentage seem willing to comply.

If any of this is true (and I can't verify this at the moment) - I'm wondering how the Millenial generation here in the UK would handle such calling. Furthermore, we "Baby Boomers" - at present in 2022, aged between 57-74 years, would be considered the luckiest generation ever to exist, living out full, war-free lives. As most of our generation are either pensioners or soon to retire, perhaps we'll be regarded as the most hated generation by those younger than us, as they would likely be more eligible for conscription.

With up to 76 years since the end of WW2, I'm wondering whether our present Western society is more averse to the possibility of warfare. Does just the thought of running towards the enemy with a powerful gun under your arm send shivers down the spine? Or, to the contrary, keen enough to apply to be sent abroad to fight? News of this came to light during the Gulf War of the early 1990s. Many who were unemployed or from mundane, dead-end, or boring jobs actually applied for posts at the Army Recruitment Centre across the country with the specific aim to be sent to the Gulf. Unfortunately for them, our forces don't send their recruits abroad without months of adequate training here at home, thus dashing their hopes for immediate adventure.

Maybe they had a point. Tales of comradeship and a strong sense of camaraderie among troops are sometimes shared with the public, the level of loyalty towards each other which just doesn't exist in an office environment. It looks to me that such camaraderie is vital for the team's morale when fighting the enemy. This, along with the added sense of adventure and daring in an unfamiliar environment. Not so much for patriotism as for personal excitement.

But other stories of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, began to percolate into our media, sometimes via the BBC news bulletins. Nothing new here. I recall the late sixties and into the seventies, especially during college days of 1968-1970. As I walked through the streets of London, I came across many "tramps" or the homeless. Most of them were elderly men, war veterans who fought in WW2 and had returned with PTSD, back then the malady unrecognised by health professionals, as they sat, begging for money from passersby and often sloshed with rum, whisky, or even methylated spirits. And one musician, Ralph McTell, wrote his song, Streets of London, in 1969, during my college days, and it was released as a single in 1974. The most striking was the fourth verse which reads:

Have you seen the old man outside the seaman's mission -

Memory fading with the medal ribbons that he wears -

And in the winter city, The rain cries a little pity -

For one forgotten hero, and a World that doesn't care -

It's the kind of song that jars my thoughts into their proper place, to see that I am so fortunate to be born not long after the War, and never had to suffer from warfare experiences. Yet, I can't help feeling for those who chose to fight in the 1914-1918 Great War. There, in the trenches in Northern France and Belgium, during the bitter winter cold and snow, men crouched as they fired their guns across to the enemy, while the hostile bullets whizzes past their heads, and never knowing who was next to take his last breath. Death remained imminent, especially for those on the firing line. Little wonder their adrenal glands were working harder than normal, constantly pumping out adrenaline into the bloodstream, inviting illnesses of all kinds, including PTSD.

The original 1914 Kitchener's Poster.

To some of these men, it got too much:

 

Stress >> Emotional turmoil >> Adrenalene >> PTSD >> Panic.*

But PTSD wasn't recognised by any doctors of the day and therefore the malady was branded as cowardice, and thus treated accordingly. Many were shot by their own superiors, and they were buried without their names appearing on any cenotaphs or other memorials for the next century.

Therefore, I can say thank goodness that the medical world has come a long way in recognising this malady! I have watched how veterans are now treated with greater sympathy than their predecessors were.

Perhaps I need to ask myself, what is the Christian point of view? I should I perceive this whole shenanigan? Maybe, I could think back to the exile of the Jews to Babylon in 586 BC under King Nebuchadnezzar. According to the Biblical prophets, the main reason why the Jews had to go into exile was due to their ongoing rebellion against God and his laws. Maybe it could also be the reason why the Russian president was allowed to rise to power and then fulfil his heart's desire without or with little resistance. Thus the realisation of forthcoming world war could shock some to turn to God.

Many around the world are turning to prayer. And that includes a video of a group of Ukrainian men assembling at a metro station to worship God. To the atheist and the unbeliever, prayer looks to be utterly useless against a man of such a high calibre as Vladimir Putin. But one has only to look back at WW2. As Adolf Hitler and his German forces were about to invade Britain, the whole nation fell on its knees, praying to God for deliverance. Soon after, Hitler decided to delay the UK invasion for some reason. For this decision, the Fuhrer eventually suffered defeat by the Allies.

Just as I need to remind myself that power-crazy dictators often suffer despicable deaths. I can name three straight off the board - Adolf Hitler who committed suicide, Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein and Lybian president Muammar Gaddafi were both lynched by their own people. Whether Putin will be dethroned by his own people, will stand trial or even executed, is something we can only wait and see, as there are rumours that not the whole of the Russian population is behind Putin's move to invade Ukraine. Let alone most of the world's leaders. However, one issue is certain: God is much bigger than President Putin.

This morning, with the possible threat of war troubling my mind, I had my usual coffee at Starbucks with a newspaper in front. The bar was far busier than usual, with long queues and occupied seating. Mind you, the sky was cloudless (for once) the sun was out, and the feeling of Spring was in the air. I tend to believe that this morning's weather had more likely brought out the people to enjoy a stint at Starbucks, rather than the ongoing gloomy news bulletins. How everyone around thought or believed, only each one knows. Did any have faith in God? Or in the European Union? Or in NATO? Or even in the courage of the Ukrainians themselves to fight against the Russians? Or simply shut the bad news out of their minds, forgetting it all? Whatever it might have been, or a combination of factors, just about everyone around me was happy, chatty, and sociable.

No doubt, far better for national health than if everyone shivered in their shoes with fear, worry, and tension. Had national fear had gripped us all, think of  all the adrenaline constantly being pumped into so many bloodstreams, eventually causing illness of some kind, whether it'll be mental or emotional distress, bringing loss of appetite, a lowering of the immune system, vulnerability to all infections, even overeating and weight gain - or more serious illnesses such as headaches, cancer, heart failure, colitis, organ inflammation, arthritis, high blood pressure, kidney disease, back pain, rheumatism, insanity, dementia, and many other diseases.**

Thus, it could be said that such fears and anxieties could eventually overwhelm the National Health Service here in Britain. All by just one man in Moscow! 

To many, prayer is a complete waste of energy made by a few who are addle-headed and living in a fairytale world of Young-Earth Creationism and pseudoscience fantasies. But here, I just would like to mention a prophecy found in the Old Testament of the Bible, the book so highly ridiculed by atheists.***

St Basil's Cathedral, Moscow.

It concerns Gog, or Rosh, the prince of Meshech and Tubal, in the land of Magog. That, during the latter days, after all the Jews have returned to their homeland after suffering a worldwide scattering, a greedy thought will enter the mind of its "king" to lead his troops to plunder the land of Israel of all its wealth. The location of Magog is also given, which is directly far north of Israel. Bible scholars and historians have identified the names of Rosh, Meshech and Tubal as Russia, Moscow and Tobolsk respectively. As they make their invasion, still in the future from our timeframe, God will intervene to protect Israel, which is the apple of his eye. In those days, anyone who turns his face against Israel will end up in serious trouble.

Isn't this prophecy so strikingly similar to our present set of circumstances? Is the Bible true after all?

Turning to God in prayer and for deliverance is the best move any nation, church, family, and individual can make. Not only history has shown that it had worked before, but such prayer will prove beneficial to one's health.

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*For more on this, see one of my previous blogs by clicking here.

**Dr S.I. McMillen, MD, None of These Diseases, 1963, 1980, Lakeland Publishers.

***Ezekiel, chapters 38-39.

A Wild Fling of Imagination...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do You See Mud or Stars?

I'm not sure I believe God exists anymore!

Thus, the confession I gave to nine other Zoomers at a morning virtual prayer meeting earlier this week. This daily twenty-minute session hosted by the team of Ascot Life Church took my confession in a very compassionate manner, totally unlike the shouty rebuke from a patronising, ivory-tower moralist at an outdoor Bible study precisely two weeks earlier.*

It has been a dark period of my life, that is, compared to normal living. For it was that morning when my beloved offered to get up, go downstairs and make me breakfast whilst I remain upstairs in bed. It's a duty which I normally perform every day for the whole of our twenty-plus years of marriage - for me to get up early, make breakfast for the two of us, then enjoy it together in bed. But this time, she wanted to have a turn. Not that it's her first time. Rather, she had prepared breakfast several times already in recent months. But this time, as she begins to make her way downstairs, her leg gives way in pain, immobilising her, a symptom of her neurotic disease she had suffered for the last six years.

Indeed, I took over, feeling bitter of heart, not directed at her but at our present set of circumstances which caused me to question the existence of God. After breakfast, I felt compelled to attend the virtual prayer meeting at our laptop terminal in the privacy of our lounge and pour out what was in my heart. This included Alex's ailment, the feeling of loss of church life - no meeting together, no greetings, no hugging, no edification, no corporate worship, no pre- or post-service coffee and fellowship. Instead, the feeling of loss, the detrimental effect exacerbated by the shouty rebuke by a moralist for losing my temper and swearing - which in itself was a sudden release of pent up emotions bottled up for months. This in addition to being lonely and unsupported, especially as a Creationist who is under an endless, constant flood of evolutionary propaganda whether I'm looking for it or not.

It is as if the Christian faith was a terrible let-down and the temptation to return to the atheism I held as a teenager was indeed endearing. It might be worth asking: Did this present coronavirus pandemic expose the true nature of my heart? Yet I look back and recall how I was badly treated by other Christians whilst I was a volunteer in Israel back in 1994 for not fitting into the model of English middle-class respectability. And the plethora of church-attending graduates whose denial of the literal Creation account of Genesis was for their support for Theistic Evolution - a worldview which at times embarrassing for one who insists that the Earth is only 6,000 years old, and thus, making me feel as idiotic as a Flat-Earth advocate. And these same graduates can be so self-reserved and cliquey that a few have refused to accept me as a Facebook friend, and even blocked me altogether.

And this attitude among us as Christians - as if I was the disease itself and being present in their midst posing a risk of any of them catching the virus - of self-distancing and wearing facemasks were the be-all-and-end-all of all physical meetings. Such conveying a strong message of fear, cowardice and lack of faith in God, and apparently not realising that God is bigger than the virus, and with an outdoor meeting as aforementioned, it would have been very unlikely any infection would have transferred with a greeting, or even a hug, that would have carried any detrimental consequences.

And the view of atheist You-Tubers. Yes, I do tune into their videos. I do this to dig into their background, to find out why they believe the way they do and what had brought them to this way of thinking and belief. One feature about them which stand out - they're all well educated, even attended the likes of Oxford University, and they know the Bible well. Therefore if I was to use Scripture as a Christian apologist, any one of these atheists would have run circles around me, and knock me out with an intellectual punch which would be enough to discredit the faith altogether.

It's one of these atheists, Drew McCoy,* who gave an insight into his background in one of his videos. He tells of his growing up in a family committed to a Southern Baptist church in the USA. Therefore its was most likely raised in an environment where personal holiness and abstention from all pleasurable pastimes could have been a principal doctrine taught there. But listening carefully between his lines, I have gotten an idea that he fell victim to a heresy of Lordship Salvation (LS.)

Wait! You might be thinking. Isn't making Jesus Christ Lord of your life is what the faith is all about?

Er, no. We are simply told to believe in Him. Understanding that Jesus Christ was crucified, buried and on the third day risen from the dead brings out that initial trust in Him. Since Jesus is the risen Christ, he is the only way to God through believing in Him.

Lordship Salvation is about putting Christ above everything in your life, including family members, as well as your life itself in order to be saved. Although at first, this looks noble, problems will arise on the practical level. For example, nearby there is a powered indoor fountain which I bought some eighteen years ago. When switched on, the gentle flow of the water over imitation rocks gives that therapeutic relaxing sensation, or to put it another way, the fountain can act as a de-stressor. But wait! Isn't that receiving relaxation or any form of ecstasy other than from God?

I would then be ordered by an LS church elder to dispose of the fountain. I'm not exaggerating. I have witnessed very similarly when an order was issued for the disposal of the TV from the homes of everyone under the leadership of one LS pastor. Never mind that this pastor was later defrocked for committing adultery, TVs were out! Or the case of getting rid of all rock and pop music records. I have heard about this one too. 

Another example: I am a fan of the Sixties pop duet Simon & Garfunkel. One of their greatest songs is The Boxer, along with Bridge Over Troubled Waters and America. These, along with Mamas & Papas Go Where You Want To Go, Look Through My Window, and Twelve Thirty, as all these songs, and others, I can connect with what I call The American Dream, a series of solo backpacking trips across the States which I did in 1977, 1978, 1995, 1997, and 1998. Thus connecting music to personal experience enhances the ecstasy-enriched memories of such times.

Thus any order from an LS pastor or elder to throw away such records would be met with resistance along with my order for him to get out of our house! According to him, my attachment to both vinyl and the fountain would prove that I wasn't saved after all, for I would be guilty of the sin of idolatry. Not to mention the TV,  going to the theatre, cinema, a restaurant, or enjoying a dance in a ballroom with my beloved.

It's that kind of organised religion that is so cramping of lifestyle rather than setting free the believer.  A religion of works, enough to turn a potential believer into an atheist. But having said that, I do have sincere love for other Christians. I guess all these negative feelings I have been experiencing arises from an old adage which was written many years ago:

Two men imprisoned in the same cell. One is looking at mud whilst the other looks up to the stars.

A good psychological lesson here. One has his view of his present circumstance to make him wallow in his misery. The other prisoner, sharing in the same set of circumstances, looks out of the barred window at the night sky above and sees glory in the stars. I guess the apostle Paul when he was imprisoned, he looked up to the stars. He and Silas sang praises to God whilst locked up in prison without any crime committed and as they saw the stars, the jailer was convicted and saved (Acts 16.)

Both Jacob and Moses saw mud. Jacob, after losing his favourite son Joseph to what he thought was by a wild animal, he cried out:

No, in mourning I shall go down to the grave with my son. Genesis 37:35.

Moses too saw mud. On one occasion, he cried out to God:

Have I conceived all these people? Have I begotten them, that thou should say unto me, Carry them in thy bosom, as a sucking father beareth the sucking child, unto the land which thou swearest unto their fathers? Numbers 11:12.

My own natural temperament is to see mud. Therefore it comes as no great surprise that my view of this pandemic and how it affects our churches is with a negative tone, along with my views of Brexit and other current affairs issues. On the other hand, I know one church elder, a personal friend of mine, who sees stars. He is optimistic that no matter how long the effects of this pandemic will take, his confidence in God restoring our church at Ascot has given him an optimistic view which enables his family to praise and exalt the glory of God at an easier level than I can.

But could I ever return to a life of atheism?

All Creation likes to manifest itself in threes, which reflects the Holy Trinity - Solid, Liquid, Gas - Animal, Vegetable, Mineral - Land life, Birdlife, Marine life - Past, Present, Future - Length, Area, Volume; even the atom: Proton, Neutron, Electron.

And this trilogy applies to God's revelation to us: the Bible, Israel, Church. And even Israel, or Zion, is three-in-one: the Jew, Jerusalem, Land of Israel.

3 in 1: Jew, Jerusalem, Holy Land.

As for the Bible, the strongest proof of its divine inspiration is the accuracy of prophecy fulfilled. For example, Isaiah 53, Psalm 22, and Zacheriah 12:13 are just three examples relating to the crucifixion of Christ, each written between 600 and 1,000 BC. If I was to explain to an atheist that the mathematical probability of all these prophecies fulfilled to the exact place, time and event without any divine intervention and just by pure chance alone, the probability would be one chance in one, followed by 181 zeroes.** Yes, how would he react to that? Interesting thought.

It's the divine inspiration of the Bible, the reality of Israel where I have visited four times in my lifetime and the love I have for fellow Christians, despite our shortcomings, and despite I see mud all the time instead of stars, my faith in Christ will never fail.


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* For full details of this incident, click here
**Henry M. Morris PhD, The Bible and Modern Science, 1951, 1968, Moody Press.

An Academic And Dumbo...

In one of Disney's classics, Dumbo, we have one of the characters reciting something akin to this:

I have seen a dragonfly, I have seen a horsefly, aye, I have even seen a housefly, but I have never seen an elephant fly!

Spot the odd one out.

Yes, you have quite likely got it right. The housefly of course! Dragons quite likely existed in real life in the past. After all, the Chinese take it so seriously in their New Year celebrations. And St George slaying the dragon, a patron saint of England, is he not? Or was he born at Cappadocia in Turkey around the third century AD and lived all his life around that vicinity? And a beast also identified as a dragon by the apostle John in the Bible.

Then there is Pegasus, a winged horse on which an ancient Greek hero Bellerophon tamed and rode upon to slay some weird creature, the Chimera. I have a hunch that the shoulder muscles of a typical horse are not adapted to carry a pair of wings. Moreover, to get such a large animal off the ground, wouldn't it need a large hydrogen sac under its spine? Then with the gas generated by bacteria living inside it, together with a skeleton built of light, hollow bones, like that of any bird? Surely, it was this bacteria-generated hydrogen in a large sac and a light-structured skeleton which enables the dragon to fly. As for the elephant, hmm, it's lucky enough just to momentary stand on its hind legs.

Oh, how I love to apply real-life science to popular myths! Who knows, it might prove that winged horses were a reality in the past, and perhaps there might even have been a pair in Noah's ark!

Dumbo was different though. He managed to train his huge ears, characteristic of the African Elephant species, to make them aerodynamic enough to fulfil the imaginations of young children. And also successful enough to enable Disney's theme parks in both California's Santa Ana and Florida's Orlando, into very profitable businesses aimed in entertaining the family. As far as I remember, Disneyland in California did feature a Dumbo ride. However, I left Dumbo for the kids and went for the much gutsier Space Mountain indoor roller-coaster, indeed, making this fast ride the climax of the 1977 and 1978 visits.

As for the housefly, with the house being inanimate making it the odd one out...well, I'll leave that to your imagination. Except that through man's ingenuity, the flying house does now exist! Only it's owned or used privately by royalty or the mega-rich. Passenger aeroplanes have known to be bought and had its interior renovated to function as a self-contained suite, and the owner or the hiring passenger can live in it as comfortably whilst at 35,000 feet, or 10,670 metres high in the air.

The Greek hero Bellerophon astride his winged mount soaring into the air would be of special interest to TV presenter and author Prof Michael Scott. This is one fellow I happen to admire. This Warwick University Professor of Classics and Ancient History holds a PhD, an M.Phil and a BA, along with twelve academic awards, including the National Teaching Fellowship which is the highest award any academic can get. He wrote seven books and made contributions into four encyclopedias. He wrote several reviews including into national newspapers, along with 22 academic papers and thirteen different articles. He also delivered 17 lectures and 12 tutorials.

Wow! What a Big Shot he is. Yet what was it which brought out my admiration of him? Basically, his down-to-earth personality which excludes snobbery. Being "stuck up" - this "them-and-us" characteristic of such educated people was absent, making him instantly likeable. This is endorsed by the casual dress he always wore when presenting his documentaries on television, such as one programme shown only last night which was shot in Cairo. Never seen in a suit and tie, but instead appears with his shirt unbuttoned, and thus identifying himself as one with the rest of us.

And earlier this year, just before the Coronavirus breakout, not only I had the privilege to attend one of his lectures at the University of London on the ancient Roman city of Herculaneum, but also to ask him personally a question on what has become of the upturned hull of a boat that was found there.

He was stumped. He couldn't answer my question. And for such a learned man such as he, I was quite mystified. Fortunately, an archaeologist was nearby who also heard my question and answered it for me. For the record, the Roman boat was carefully excavated and is now housed in a museum nearby.

Prof Michael Scott.

Maybe I have betrayed my own ignorance in that room, rather than that of the professor. I was unaware of the probability that Ancient Greek Classics is a different subject altogether from Archaeology. And I asked a question touching on archaeology rather than classics, even if the lecture was about what was excavated rather than fighting among ancient Greek gods.

But I have found that believing in the fable of Bellerophon astride Pegasus is very different from believing in the historicity of Divine Creation. The latter is very relevant to day-to-day living. And daily dependency on God.

A few years ago, one of our church members, himself an academic and author, in a sermon touching on the first chapter of Genesis, he levelled its historicity to an ancient Babylonian fable, the Enuma Elish, telling on how the Universe, our earth and all life was created by a pantheon of warring deities, where jealousy and murder were involved. With himself being an academic, I wouldn't be at all surprised that many of his listeners had fallen into the trap, being a learned scholar, therefore his word being taken and believed on as authentic.

Here I believe that differentiating between the historicity of the Bible from ancient Babylonian, Greek and Roman fables to be vitally important for the credibility of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. And faith in the Gospel can be stretched to the limit when earlier in the week, my beloved felt woozy, dizzy and experienced a headache. So she phoned a non-emergency medical call centre. After describing her recent breast cancer history, a clinician phoned back with a suggestion that either she has an infection in her middle ear, or terrifying enough, her cancer had moved to her brain, and as such, an ambulance will be sent to take her to the hospital.

Once there, I received a phone call with the news that she will be due for an X-ray on the next day and therefore will be kept in overnight. She has a mobile phone that is mistakenly set not to receive calls, but with it, she can only make calls. And so I was alone at home, unable to get to her nor to the hospital staff either. I was totally under the mercy of providence.

The next morning the phone rang. It was Alex, and I was prepared to hear the news of her discharge. But instead, she says that she was tested positive with Coronavirus, and will be transferred to the ward for patients with Covid-19. I was stunned with shock! Whenever imagination runs wild, this was one occasion.

Visions of my beloved entered my mind, Visions of her in an isolation unit with a ventilator down her throat, that dreadful phone call from the hospital bearing the news that she had passed away. I look around as I sat alone in our living room. Widowhood? No, I was not at all prepared for widowhood, and no one, no one, could ever replace her! Everything reminds me of her: all the little ornaments I bought for her throughout our marriage, the photographs of her and us on holiday, everything else which are specifically hers, all these are around me.

Have you ever felt that you want to cry and shed bucketloads of tears, but somehow can't? Indeed, that was how I was feeling - a twisted cord of emotions, yet the Endocrine system of glands responsible to get me to actually cry remains stubbornly inactive.

I contacted all five of our Elders by email to set up a prayer network within our church for Alex. Prayer. Prayer based on faith in Jesus Christ - his death by crucifixion, his burial and his resurrection after three days. And belief in Divine Creation as historical being so vital for the veracity of the Gospel and the power of prayer which arises from it.

It was a terrible day. Caught in an emotional vortex, I also suffered loss of appetite. It was in the afternoon when the phone rang again. Expecting the worst, Alex informed me that preparations for discharge were made. I felt a flush of relief, then a feeling of frustration when it was said that before she can go home, she is to have her X-ray done on the advice of the clinician. But being busy, as she had to get behind a queue of patients before her turn came up. This, along with a delay in transport home, it was into the night before she finally arrived home, more than 24 hours after her departure to the hospital.

Can a house fly? Nowadays it can. Inside a modified airliner.

Now we are both at home together. She's on self-isolation for one week, I'm on for two weeks. In the days to come, we both need to watch for any deterioration of health in either of us. The dread of the ventilator or even widowhood hangs above us like a dark cloud.

But there is one very important thing we both must understand during these difficult times. God is in full control. He knows what's in our hearts, how we think and feel our fears, sorrows, and anticipations. God is fully in control, and as I said to Alex, our God is not too small after all, neither can anything happen behind his back.

Right now, neither of us are displaying any symptoms. But neither are we sitting on our laurels. We are hoping that these next couple of weeks will pass without any incident.

But having faith in God is absolutely vital. And that included accepting the record of Genesis as historical. As for lowering the Bible to the level of myth, there is no edification in reading or listening to the stories found in the Enuma Elish. As a matter of historical fact, I think that Dumbo with his aerodynamic ears is far more edifying than any stuff found in those Babylonian myths.

A Cry to God from the Boardwalk.

Something strange happened this week. A strange situation bringing on an odd feeling. For the first time in my life, and for the first time ever in the lives of everyone who was not old enough to fight in the last World War, the closing of all pubs, coffee bars, cafes, restaurants, as well as gyms, swimming pools, golf courses and leisure centres in general, has all brought a kind of either a fearful or a melancholic shroud across the whole nation.

As someone said online, to tell an average Briton not to go to the pub is like telling a dog not to bark. Indeed, the old tavern and its unique atmosphere have been around within our shores for centuries. Even the early nineteenth-century author Charles Dickens wrote about how the young parochial runaway Oliver Twist was escorted into a tavern by Jack Dawkins the pickpocket. This goes to show that even in 1837 when the book was first written and the railway was in its fledgeling stage of development, the tavern was already a long-established social hub.

A pub in London.

And thus, this morning, the shutters remained closed over the entrance into Starbucks Coffee from Sainsbury's superstore, the latter with some of the shelving already cleared of essential items by panic-buyers, whose huge trolleys are filled to brimming as if to feed a regiment for weeks on end or to face an imminent famine of Biblical proportions. All of a sudden the world has changed to resemble an apocalyptic age, the sort of science-fiction movie scenario where the whole of humanity is facing extinction, whether by an intergalactic invasion or warfare - or from an unknown viral pandemic.

And so, no Starbucks cappuccino this morning for the first time since 2015, and looking as if I won't be sitting at that particular table with the newspaper spread out "until further notice" which really means indefinitely. Then if I were to ride past our local leisure centre, its main entrance would be shut and inside, the swimming pool steeped in deep silence and without a ripple, all the recently-installed gym apparatus standing quietly still, and the squash courts silent from the all-familiar crack of a small rubber ball hitting the wall with full force, which was one of my main pastimes throughout the late 1970s, into the eighties.

Never in my lifetime had I witnessed such lockdown on a national scale. Really, I find it all quite scary. Indeed, may the very last person leaving our planet please turn off the lights. But with Winter packing his bags and preparing to leave for another year as Spring lays his hand on Winter's shoulder from behind, there is a look of hope in the environment. The sun is higher in the sky during midday, the grass looks greener, birds sing in the trees as the bare branches prepare to bud into leaf, daffodils and crocuses beautify the lawns. In and around our ponds, two of them within the vicinity where we live, ducks, swans and geese intermingle with hardly a dispute among them all.

Usually, I love this time of the year. The Easter eggs sold in colourful packages means to me to be far more than a pleasant taste in the mouth. Rather they symbolise a rebirth of a new season when the whole land begins to bloom with colour as the weather gets warmer, the days longer and the nights shorter. And of course, for us Christian believers, the holiday commemorates the death of our Lord Jesus Christ by crucifixion, his burial and his resurrection three days later, on that early Sunday morning. Without a doubt, the most important three-in-one event ever to have taken place throughout the whole of human history. Such an event no human endeavour was ever able to match to this day, no matter how advanced scientific knowledge have reached.

But now something happened, and it's not at all nice. Something like a shroud covering the whole land. And all caused by a tiny invader which travelled in an aeroplane without first buying an air ticket. And so this unwelcome immigrant has taken hold, killing thousands across Europe and infecting many more. And Britain is not exempt.

With English posh boys setting off to the Alps for a school skiing holiday and then returning home infected, I find it an easy temptation to feel angry towards them. Spoilt brats, bringing misery and death to our land! But I'm also quick to admit that none of this was their fault. If they had already known about the epidemic before take-off, no doubt they would have cancelled the trip or switch to another destination. Therefore, there's no point in being angry. Only I would suffer the consequence and nobody else benefit.

But throughout the past week, I was literally trembling with fear. I admit I was afraid to die, leaving my beloved behind as a grieving widow, unable to live on her own due to the poorness of her own physical health, even if otherwise she's quite capable. But equally terrifying, if not more so, is the thought of watching her fall ill with the virus and die. With more than twenty years in a deep, loving relationship, how could I revert to life as a singleton? Indeed, in both cases, heaven can wait.

Image of Coronavirus.

Therefore what a terrible shock it was last Friday when I arrived home from swimming. There she was, lying on the sofa, coughing endlessly. As cold, naked fear took hold of me, I dialled 111 (a UK non-emergency contact with the NHS) and asked for advice. Since she had not left the UK, there was no Covid-19 test. Instead, she was told to remain indoors for the next seven days, which she had now completed. That same evening, her cough had quickly stopped as suddenly as it started. I was so much relieved. Earlier, after I phoned 111, I posted her condition on Facebook. One of my friends wrote back, saying that he "commanded the illness to leave her in the name of Jesus" aloud in his own home. Shortly afterwards, her coughing stopped, her eyes glowed like jewels, and felt a lot better. Whether her recovery was a direct link to the command or coincidental, I can never be sure.

This is because I have always been sceptical with these "healing ministries" after having some unsound experiences with them in the past. But there is one issue I will never doubt, and that is, God is with us. And I say this when I feel that God is not with us for one reason or another, whether due to a faulty faith or participating in some sin.

And as the days pass, my emotion rose to elation and fell to despair. And this fall to despair can happen suddenly and unexpectedly, triggered by a passing thought. And it was one afternoon when taking a stroll through a park when such a plunge into distress came upon me. A section of the park consists of marshland inhabited by a forest of tall reeds. A boardwalk crosses it. It was here, that I first made sure that I was alone, and have had to wait for a couple of people to disperse, I began to pray aloud, admitting our transgressions and calling on God to forgive, and to keep the virus from coming anywhere near us.

Such a prayer also included a confession that we have as a nation has transgressed, and sinned against him by turning away from the truth to embrace a lie, the lie of Darwinian Evolution in place of the belief in Divine Creation. As such, the Gospel has become non-effective as we pursue Science. 

O God, forgive our sins and send the Holy Spirit into our hearts and allow him to turn our hearts back to you, O God, and be saved.

With the threat continuing to close in, with the number of confirmed cases of infection rising, along with the corresponding number of deaths also rising as a result of the disease, I feel totally helpless, fearing my wife catching an infection, and totally powerless to stop it. It is during such feelings of despair that I need to remind myself of this piece of Scripture:

For God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, not counting men's sins against them.  

2 Corinthians 5:19.

Therefore when, from time to time, I come across articles written by Christians saying that this coronavirus is a punishment sent by God to a nation for the sin of national apostasy, I cringe. Maybe God has allowed the virus to spread so rapidly, but I believe there is a big difference between God allowing such to happen and actually the disease sent by God. God in Christ reconciling the world to himself, not counting the trespasses of mankind against them - can be hard to believe at times but it's still true nevertheless. Today is the day of grace, of salvation. This is the year of God's favour, with the day of God's wrath still in the future, and it will remain in the future as long as the Church (universal body of Christians) is still here.

In the book of Revelation, a specific incident takes place where Jesus Christ the Lamb of God is standing before his Father. He then gives the Son a sealed scroll which no other man is worthy to open the scroll and to look inside - chapter  5. The reason for this is simple. Every one of us, both the angels and all mankind, are all God's creation. Therefore only the Creator is worthy to open the scroll, and Jesus Christ, the second person of the Trinity and therefore God himself, is indeed the Creator. Therefore the Earth can only be punished directly by God after this scroll has been opened. 

At present, the scroll is not open. It's still sealed. Therefore, this present coronavirus outbreak is not from either of the four apocalyptical horsemen sent from heaven, as these Christian writers make out to be. The scroll is not yet open and it will not be opened whilst all the churches are still here with us.

Only yesterday I had cycled to a garden centre in Bagshot, another town several miles from home, to buy some cactus feed. As I strolled along the aisle between displays, I found a quiet spot where I can pray without disturbing anyone, and there and then I felt that indeed, I am a son of God, a born-again Christian believer. And so is Alex my beloved wife. It was a moment of peace I felt within as I stepped outside to look at the water features on display for sale.

I have Asperger's Syndrome or AS. That means, in a fallen world, from gestation onwards, my brain is not wired up properly. This involves difficulty in casual group communication such as in a pub or restaurant. It shouldn't be looked down upon. One prominent BBC naturalist presenter, Chris Packham, not only has AS but he used his condition in his favour to be both a successful author and a TV presenter he is today. I know two more friends, both with AS, one with a high enough IQ to be a member of Mensa, and another with a PhD. Yet with me, it could well be Asperger's Syndrome which causes me to physically tremble with fear at the slightest threat.

BBC TV presenter and author Chris Packham.

It could be Asperger's Syndrome that opens a way for doubt of salvation to creep in, making me afraid of death and of Hell. It could be AS which causes me to think that Alex too will perish. And lately, my fears of this coronavirus could be stirred by AS. Actually, I personally believe it is.

I do believe with all sincerity that AS can breach a chink in my spiritual armour, allowing the adversary to push his lies through it. Asperger's Syndrome affects each patient differently. With me, it engenders fear but not necessarily in others with the same condition.

Although I have been a Christian believer for the last 47 years, I still yet to be freed from this malady.

I Don't Believe in 'IF' Anymore...

Yes I am aware that for readers approximating my age range, such readers would recognise the above title as that of a song written and sung by Roger Whittaker, released in 1977. But this little word, at least according to what I have experienced, have read about, and listened to, has proven catastrophic over two millennia of Christendom. This is actually a continuation of last week's blog, When I Question My Faith, and continue to examine what I believe in, why, and to try to analyse why atheists believe the way they do.

I can't help but feel sympathetic for the average atheist. Or for that matter, the agnostic too. The main difference between an atheist and an agnostic is that the latter accepts the possibility of God's existence. In turn, the atheist denies his existence altogether. But neither would accept the revelation of God's divine creation as history. My late father was an agnostic. He believed in the existence of God. But he rebuked me, even to the point of teasing, for believing in a young-Earth creation as recent as six millennia in the past, together with the idea of a talking snake, and the thought of a shoreless ocean annihilating a whole race of men and air-breathing animals alike. Ahem. And not to mention a talking donkey rebuking a mad prophet who had dollar signs in his eyes! Not long after my conversion, and still living at home, Dad saw me read a Bible that was given to him by a Jehovah's Witness back in the 1950's. So indeed it was quite an old copy, a King James version with two columns of cross-references, one on both edges of each page. For up to twenty years this particular copy of the Bible sat at our bookshelf, totally undisturbed as it was squeezed between other books on both sides. But that particular day, after a few months reading it, Dad took the Bible out of my hands and with anger, literally tore it to shreds right in front of me.

Of course, I was horrified, and also suffered a terrible loss. Not long after, when our Catholic priest came round to have a talk to me, I agreed to attend his church on Sundays. So for a short while I started attending. This pleased both my parents and it seemed to bring peace to the household at last. But I did not feel at home in a Catholic church, and it was not long before I left, to attend a live Anglican Church in Brixton, South London, much to the disappointment of my parents. But the point is that such disagreement among Christian worshippers is fuel thrown to the fires of atheism. And to my confusion too, back in those days.

And this blog was written just a day after a terrorist incident at an Underground train in West London, where a bomb planted in one of the carriages was only partially detonated, and flash-burning every passenger who was unfortunate enough to be close to the bomb. The device failed to detonate properly. Had it, then there would have been a high number of deaths within the train, and for those further away, plenty more would have been seriously injured. I for one, am convinced that the failure of the bomb to detonate properly was from God's mercy, who imposed a "restriction" on what the device can do. Sure enough, any atheist would burst into laughter at my theory and ask why if God was able to restrict the explosion, then why not prevent it entirely? Really, was God's hand simply not long enough to have prevented the detonation altogether?

The Islamic terrorist, in turn would have asked the opposite question. After carrying out his duty so faithfully, why had Allah let him down so badly? Didn't his deity inspire his prophet Mohammed to have all unbelievers and apostates slain? Then further confusion arises, especially among the unchurched, that Yahweh and Allah is perceived as the one true merciful God, worshipped and adored by Christians and Muslims alike, according to the Vatican. Yet no matter how hard I try, I have found it to be impossible to reconcile Yahweh, who sent his Son to atone for our sins, with a son-less deity who is bent on murder, terrorism, and revenge. And yet despite such difficulty in reconciling the two entities, I can still conjure up an image of Jerusalem in my mind. A city I'm already very familiar with, having spent some time of my life there. The Old City is divided into three monotheistic religions - Muslim, Jewish, and Christian. Even the Christian section of the city is sub-divided, with the Armenians having their own Quarter, making four Quarters altogether. The other Christian Quarter has in it Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, and Coptic churches, along with a Lutheran church, and an Anglican church just inside Jaffa Gate. Among all of them, the concept of Eternal Security of the Believer is relatively unknown, even if both the Anglican and Lutheran churches are perceived to be closer to Biblical truth than the other churches, which tend to lean more on custom and traditions.    

And this I can testify. I attended services at Christ Church Anglican, close to the gate, on several occasions. Behind the pulpit, the twin tablets on which the Decalogue is displayed remains in full view. And they insist on the historicity of Holy Scripture. That was why I felt that I belonged there whilst I was living in Jerusalem, even if I didn't agree with everything they taught. Oh, how short the walk was along Souq David, from my hostel to the church, passing shops open for business, Arab shopkeepers constantly beckoning passing tourists, along with the banter of daily life. Yet as I saunter through the Medieval streets of the Old City, here was the one city which was home to three different monotheistic religions - all three teaching that faith without works is dead, and that the believer, whether Islamic, Jewish or Christian, must work to a greater or lesser degree to secure his salvation. Unfortunately for the Muslims, this entry into Paradise after death often involve jihad, or holy war, where many are slain to promote Allah and to convert to the writings of the Koran, which all Muslims believe to be written under Allah's inspiration, and therefore free from error.

Christ Church, Jerusalem - interior.

Exactly like we as Christians accept the Bible to be free from error. Then you as a Christian, reading this, how would you feel if I was to say that the Bible isn't free from error, but instead contains some inconsistencies? Yes, you read that right. Would you instantly click off from this page and go elsewhere, dismissing me as an apostate or liberal? Before you do, let me ask you to read on and consider these inconsistencies:

Such as Matthew 27:9-10. Here the apostle cites an Old Testament prophecy, and saying it was a quote from Jeremiah. But actually he was quoting from Zechariah 11:12. Then we have Mark declaring that Jesus was crucified "in the third hour" - that is nine o'clock in the morning (Mark 15:25), whilst Matthew writes that by the sixth hour, that is midday, Jesus was already on the cross, and it was then it began to get dark (Matthew 27:45), with Luke fully agreeing with Matthew's testimony (Luke 23:44). However, John has Jesus still standing in front of Pilate's judgement seat at midday (John 19:14). Where there might have been some collaboration between Matthew and Luke with Mark's testimony, yet it does seem rather stretching to believe that Jesus was already crucified by nine in the morning, especially if Luke records Pilate sending Jesus to Herod sometime in between. And only Luke records this visit to Herod's palace. Furthermore, we are not told how long Jesus stood before Herod. It could have been as long as an hour. Then considering the slow movement of the crowds, along with the bustling and confusion, allowing up to thirty minutes each way to make the journey across Jerusalem, which means there have, most likely, been a break in Pilate's judgement for up to two hours, making John's testimony of Jesus still standing before Pilate at midday more credible.

But the rather wide inconsistency between Mark's testimony and that of John's testimony in the timing of the crucifixion still remains. Then again, I have little idea when exactly in the morning was Jesus escorted to Pilate's palace by the Jews. But all four seem to agree that it was early morning, most likely shortly after daybreak, which would have been sometime between six and seven o'clock. If that was the case, then Mark's testimony of a nine o'clock crucifixion does hold some plausibility. But that still does not explain the inconsistency between Mark and John.

Then there is another apparent inconsistency which can still baffle many to this day, and which I had difficulty in coping with. Consider these verses:

Now the first day of the feast of unleavened bread the disciples came to Jesus, saying unto him, Where wilt that we prepare for thee to eat the Passover? 
And he said, Go into the city to such a man, and say unto him, The Master saith, My time is at hand; I will keep the Passover at thy house with my disciples.
And the disciples did as Jesus had appointed them; and they made ready the Passover.
Matthew 26:17-19, also Mark 14:12-17, and Luke 22:7-14.

Yet John says:

Then led they Jesus from Caiaphas unto the hall of judgement: and it was early; and themselves went not into the judgement hall, lest they should be defiled; but they might eat the Passover.
Pilate then went out to them, and said, What accusation bring ye against this man?
John 18:28-29. All quotes from the AV.

If I, who had read the Bible for over forty years, still find these conflicting verses difficult to grasp and reconcile, how would a new convert to the faith feel when he comes across such contradictions? And how would the atheist gloat, grinning from cheek to cheek with glee? Many church-goers don't seem to be aware of such contradictions, and if they are aware, they tend to sweep them under the carpet and pretend that's it's not a problem. But as I see it, where atheists are concerned, these contradictions present a massive problem for us who may want to witness to them and verify the historicity of Holy Scripture. And the trouble is, many of these atheists are not Biblical ignorant. They can open the Bible and read out these verses and we can only hide our blushes by cupping our faces in our hands.

The Bible is messy. It often does not appear so straightforward. Take another example of apparent contradiction. In Romans 8:38-39, Paul assures us that we are eternally secure in our salvation, and nothing can separate us from the love of God through Jesus Christ. And that is not only confined to man's persuasion to think otherwise, but not even demons, nor "powers in the air" nor height or depth, nor anything in the whole of creation can separate us from the love of God. Then flick through a couple of pages, and you see Paul's warning that we as non-Jews are likened to branches of a wild olive tree which were grafted into the cultivated olive tree. Then he warns us not to be conceited, or else we too will be broken off, just as the unbelieving Jews were (Romans 11:16-22). Here, in the very same letter, the apostle first reassures us that we are eternally secure in Christ, then afterwards we are to fear of becoming disenfranchised from God if we become too high minded. Then turn over some more pages until you come to Paul's letter to the church in Colossae. After discussing such glorious promises in partaking in the Resurrection of the just, Paul then concludes:

In the body of the flesh through death, to present you holy and unblamable and unreproveable in his sight:
If ye continue in the faith grounded and settled, and be not moved away from the hope of the gospel, which ye have heard, and which was preached to every creature which is under heaven; whereof I Paul am made a minister.
Colossians 1:22-23.

And considering many more similar verses scattered across the whole New Testament, people has come up to me with the explanation that yes indeed, we as believers are eternally secure in Christ, and no one can take our salvation away from us, no, not even the spiritual realm of demonic powers in the air. But as long as you must yourself remain in the faith. According to them, you remain safe in Jesus Christ if you don't voluntarily walk away from the faith, or else it's hell after death. And they quote these and other similar Scriptures to prove their point.

I have looked upon history to see for myself the fruits of such a train of thinking. And all I could see was apostasy and the rise of iniquity among those who professed to have lived in a "Christian country". The Popes of Rome, for example, along with many of the Cardinals and of the clergy, were the most wicked men to have ever walked the earth! Cases of prostitution, adultery, paedophilia, murder, suppression, exorbitance, betrayal, conquest, the Inquisition with its many cases of physical torture, and many more crimes are forever etched into the history of the Roman Catholic Church spanning the centuries. And mainly, in my mind, due to the concept of the sinner "doing penitence" instead of just changing the mind about Jesus Christ being the risen Christ, the Son of God. Doing penance is the core of Catholic catechism. The process is to eradicate sin before the believer can be justified, and if sin is not eradicated, then there is little or no hope of heaven in the afterlife.

Church of St. Peter, the Vatican.

Yet despite of all this, the Bible is messy, and the atheist knows this. What I find by reading Holy Scriptures is that Prophecy, which is scattered throughout the entire Bible. By being extremely accurate in predicting events which took place even thousands of years after the prophecy was given, thus advocating the omniscience of God. And here is the crunch. If a "saved" person can simply walk away from the faith, then wouldn't the "omniscient God" be aware of this to begin with? Or to put it another way, would an all-knowing God make any effort to save a person if he already knows that that person will one day fall away? And what kind of gift is that apostate is to the one who suffered so painfully on a cross? A "naff" gift? Can't this all-knowing God choose properly? And to add to this, consider the spiritual realm. If a person "voluntary walks away" from the hand of Jesus Christ who is supposed to be holding him secure (John 10:28-30), then to walk away means that he must be going somewhere, no doubt to a more attractive location. And who is showing him that location? The Devil? If so, then the Adversary is stronger than God himself and it has also proved God to be a liar.

Questions, questions...

And yet, the Scriptures does look as if such contradictions exist in them. Free from error? There are times when I have pondered. Really, I have! I have to admit, even to myself, that I don't think that I could stand up against an atheist who knows the Bible well. Not unless I possess a Greater Power within who can not only take the knocks, but can deliver answers which would refute the atheist's every question, proving once and for all that this Jesus of Nazareth is indeed the risen Christ, and God manifest in the flesh.

And with such a manifestation of the Glory of God, in Christ I rest my case.

Angry at God.

Poor Noah! He was pretty well screwed up during the years following the Flood. How just one or two verses can reveal a great deal about a saint's personal life. No matter how faithful a believer can be, God is always patient and accepting.

When I first started to read the Old Testament book of Genesis, three issues had crossed my mind. First this Noah in a large houseboat featuring the long necks of two giraffes peering over the parapet wasn't quite a complete fairy tale after all, since the narrator writes with serious historical intention. Secondly, Noah appears to be alone, rather like an orphan, in a hostile antediluvian society. And thirdly, I assumed that his father Lamech has been dead for decades, and he is the last of his generation, alone with his wife and his three already-married but still childless sons. However, back in those days a question still loomed in my mind, recently asked by a sneering atheist at work, on where Cain had gotten his wife.

Getting stuck into this first book of the Bible, it is the provision of carefully-preserved genealogical records which has thrown much light into the narration. Not only can the question of Cain's wife be adequately answered, but the issue also hints of a massive population explosion not long after the Fall. Adam must have fathered far more than just Cain and Abel before the birth of Seth. Within the first 130 years of his life, an unspecified number of unnamed sons and daughters must have been born from Eve's womb. Not to have done so would have violated the specific commandment given to them by God himself - to procreate and populate the Earth (Genesis 1:26-28).

By the time Noah was born, both his father Lamech, along with his unnamed mother were alive and well, together with his peculiarly-named grandfather Methuselah, and his unnamed grandmother. The name Methuselah might well have raised the curiosity of young Noah, combined with the revelation given at his birth that he is destined to bring relief from the hard toil resulting from the cursed ground. Even from a young age, Noah already knew that the name Methuselah means At my death comes the waters. Combined with his own destiny, he was aware that something drastic will happen later in his life. Just a casual reading of the genealogical records narrated in the fifth chapter will reveal that right up to the start of the Flood, Noah was not the lonely orphan I first perceived him to have been. Here we are told that apart from the birth of Lamech, Methuselah had other sons and daughters, therefore the youngster growing up into a family of aunts and uncles. Then Lamech himself had other sons and daughters, supplying Noah with brothers and sisters, and perhaps nephews and nieces too. Indeed, if cousins are to be included, Noah grew up in a very large family.

The sudden death of Lamech after a comparatively moderate age of 777 years might well have answered Noah's begging question: Would his parents drown in the Flood? With the Ark nearing completion, all eyes were on his grandfather Methuselah. As the white-haired and white bearded grandfather's face displayed more wrinkles by the day, Noah had no option but to ensure the timely completion of his vessel, and that despite the ridicule thrown at him by those he loved, and the shaking of heads by other relatives who had confined him to the realm of lunacy. Then suddenly one morning, Methuselah was found dead in his bed. Noah flew into panic. His ark wasn't quite ready. That was when God revealed to him that seven more days were to elapse before the waters arrived, enough time to cross the t's and dot the i's, five years after the death of his father Lamech.

As the storms raged outside, Noah must have felt very lonely and disturbed as the ark rocked about whilst afloat on the shoreless ocean. It wasn't that long after the door finally closed, sealing them in, when massive earthquakes, roaring rumbles of thunder, water and even volcanic lava gushing out of the ground, that he heard his own panicking brothers and sisters, along with their screaming offspring, grandchildren, and maybe even their great grandchildren, together with his aunts, uncles, and cousins, all calling out his name and begging for the door to be opened. But as fists punched the outside of the hull, Noah knew well enough that the door cannot be opened. Such would jeopardise everyone else within, along with all the livestock. His own wife tried to comfort him, along with attempted encouragement from his three sons and their wives. But as the livestock drifted into hibernation for the duration, a certain stillness ensued, save from the turbulence of the waters outside. If only his relatives believed his message and entered the Ark whilst there was still time, instead of mocking and ridiculing! Now it was too late. 

It was over a year later, after having received reassurance, that Noah, his family, and all preserved livestock disembarked somewhere on a high mountain. But even with the happy announcement of the birth of his first grandson Canaan, sired by Ham, he could not alleviate his sorrows as he looked around the deserted land, bereft of all humans other than his own family. Even though he busied himself farming and harvesting grapes, his combined twist of torrid emotions of loneliness and family loss caused him to drink to excess. Whilst lying drunken in his tent, it was likely that his grandson Canaan sexually molested him, making him believe that it was his wife who was trying to revive the old man, while the boy's father looked on with some amusement before calling in his brothers Shem and Japheth.

Then there was no Government ministers to lay the blame on, no street protests, no media, thus there was nobody to blame. As it was, Noah and his family survived a natural disaster, this one so grand that it wiped out the entire human population. Because of their wickedness. And yet, as God made a covenant of the rainbow with Noah and his descendants, God also makes a statement that although the whole of humanity was given a fresh start, the human heart remains evil from youth (Genesis 8:20-22). It was as if the Flood has failed to reform the heart over the coming generations. So why promise never to bring another deluge, despite the natural heart remaining unreformed? I believe that an invasion of fallen angels interbreeding with antediluvian women had very nearly eliminated the Messianic Line, starting with Adam, through Seth, Noah, and through to Jesus Christ (Genesis 6:1-4). This interbreeding between fallen angels and human women produced a race of Nephilim - giants, and maybe together with those weird, cone-headed offspring who had high, above-average intelligence and greater evil, and therefore grew up to be men of great infamy. If the entire human population became infected with such offspring, the Promise of Genesis 3:15 would not have been fulfilled. Since after the Flood, the birth of such offspring apparently remained restricted to the line of Ham through Canaan, and they were to play a role in the discipline of the fledgling nation of Israel, which eventually eliminated them entirely, particularly from Joshua's day through to King Saul's reign. If all this is true, the need for a global Deluge has played a role towards our salvation. 

Since then, natural disasters as unleashed its powers throughout history, although never again to wipe out the entire human race. The natural phenomenon which demolished the Tower of Babel was a natural disaster, along with the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in AD 79, wiping out the cities of Pompeii, Stabiae, Oplontis, and Herculaneum. Then there was that explosive eruption of Mt. Krakatoa in the Sunda Strait, on August 26, 1886, which wiped out at least 36,417 people at surrounding coast-lands. Then not to mention the San Francisco earthquake in 1906, killing around 3,000 people and flattening 80% of the city. Then within our lifetimes there was the tsunami which epicentre took place in the Indian Ocean on Boxing Day 2004, taking up to 280,000 casualties. Then there was the destruction of New Orleans by a tsunami stirred up by Hurricane Katrina on August 29, 2005. This disaster took at least 1,245 lives.

Here in the UK nature is far less harsh, befitting the gentle rolling hills and pastures green of rural England. Therefore, disasters here tend to be man-made rather than from the pure wrath of nature. Perhaps the worst was the bubonic plague which struck London between the years 1665 and 1666, taking 100,000 lives, about a quarter of London's population. This disease was spread by fleas biting people after being in contact with infected rats. Natural disaster? In a way, yes, but easily avoidable if only a better knowledge of sanitation was in force. The Bible teaches that human excrement, for example, should be buried in a hole already dug in the ground outside the camp, and then covered over with the soil (Deuteronomy 23:12-13). Instead, human excrement, rotting food and other sources of filth were thrown out from the windows to the street below, festering vermin which spread such fatal illnesses. The Great Fire of London of 1666 was, as I see it, an act of God's grace and mercy. This disaster took very few casualties, but destroyed property in abundance - along with the rats which carried the bubonic plague.

However, other than terrorist attacks occurring in America, Europe and Britain alike, the latest disaster now dominate the news bulletins. That is the fire which quickly consumed Grenfell Tower, a residential block occupying the poorer area of London North Kensington, with the wealthy area of Notting Hill just a stone's throw away. Here, the poorer, hard up residents lived cheek by jowl with the mansions owned by the rich. When I read about this, yes I was angry at God himself for allowing the fire to rage the way it did. Why always the poorer people suffer like this? And why such a special favour shown to the better off? Like as in most evangelical churches where the Gospel is shared among the middle classes, graduates and professionals, while at the same time, Islamic and other non-Christian refugees, immigrants, struggling families, and the plebs of society are left to burn alive or die from smoke inhalation without ever a chance to hear the Gospel for themselves. Salt is further rubbed into the wound when I consider that many of the wealthier occupy the pews of Anglican churches - giving the impression that God favours the wealthy and the better educated.

This craziness, this unfairness, this picture of a posh lady praying to God over her choice of a new dress while two to three thousand miles down the road the life of a starving child ebbs away while his mother looks on helplessly. Ditto of another child suffering from malnutrition and AIDS, with no fault of his own, slowly passes away while at that same moment over here, the patriotic Englishman and churchgoer prays and even fast for England to win the World Cup. Something seems rotten here.

Until the full truth comes out.

That is: The fire at Grenfell Tower was the result of cheap flammable cladding covering the outer masonry, so that this 1970's built structure will look more appealing to the nearby wealthy residents. The result of shoddy administration of the authorities plus the sheer greed of the contractors - putting profit above the safety of these pleb residents - extricates any accusation from man's perception of divine unfairness.

Noah had no reason to feel deluded by God's apparent injustice, especially to his wider family. Neither was there a need to harbour and feed those twisted emotions which tormented him. Rather, he should have realised that the terrible catastrophe he was saved from was brought upon antediluvian mankind by their own evil deeds and their own unbelief.