Airlines and Computers in the Bible?

Do you find yourself going through an evening where you're stuck at home and don't know what to do? You take a look at the TV guide, only to find that there is not much on which is worth watching on either BBC channels. Oh, there is a movie, an exciting drama on one of the commercial channels, but what's the point in watching a movie so frequently interrupted by commercial breaks, when you already have your own DVD recording of the movie? So shall it be watched again? Not really. You have watched it already only last week, and that was the third time after purchasing it.

I have to be honest here. I despise commercial channels! For me, anyway, I find nothing more frustrating than to be deeply involved with the plot of the film, and just when an exciting bit arrives, there is this sudden silence followed by an advert on Kitekat (we don't have a cat) or Chunkie dog food (we don't have a dog either) or this geyser driving a flash sports car as he passes a lone young female at an exotic location and tries to impress her. Not very relevant to me here either, for I don't have a driving license. The only appropriate advertisement is the one on Cadbury's Dairy Milk. After all, who doesn't like chocolate? But alas, there's no chocolate in the house and either the superstore had closed for the evening or I'm too tired or not bothered to go back out. Furthermore, I'm waiting for the movie's climax.

Thus, the wonder of the Internet! So useful it has been during this pandemic lockdown. Indeed, I'm beginning to wonder how the generation which had to endure the Bubonic Plague in the 13th Century managed to cope? Okay, there may be some bad things online, but it's also an unlimited storehouse of useful knowledge. Trivia which I had missed out at school is now easily accessible with just one or two clicks of the mouse.

And that also includes virtual reality. Yes indeed, I have moaned about our virtual church service over the weeks. But I have always agreed to the principle during these critical times: to be able to worship God and to listen to the preach from the speaker on screen. I certainly can see him as he stares back at me, only that he cannot actually see me, nor, for that matter, can he see anyone else gazing at him, but instead, he looks into a camera and at the same time keeping track on how many are tuned in. But it's the bit after the service is over when chatting rooms come on screen. Here, not only can I literally talk to the person on screen but we can actually see each other as well. It was as if talking through a windowpane.

About nothing worth watching on TV. Here we have two other channels we can rely on. One is the BBC Iplayer, where I can watch the hour-long travel documentaries presented by Simon Reeve which I normally miss on TV, along with other programmes. The other website is YouTube. And one set of videos has recently caught our attention and that is by Prowalk Tours. Unlike most travel presenters, who love to stare into the camera and narrate, this fellow simply walks along, holding his video camera aloft on a pole. This gives the impression that as he walks, it's as if the viewer himself is walking and filming. There is no vocal narration nor any background music. Instead, his footsteps can be heard crunching on the gravel, along with the voices of talking passersby.

One of his videos was about his ascent to the crater of Mt. Vesuvio, with the walk starting and finishing at the car park. It was very enlightening. The modernisation of such a tourist attraction has become well-advanced since my actual visit to the volcano in 1973. Where in my day the footpath leading to the rim was nothing more than a band of light dirt streaking along the barren, ash-laden slope, now there is a proper trail, fenced in on both sides with a trestle of logs and wide enough for up to six people to walk abreast. Where in 1973 I was practically the sole walker, in the video the path was very busy with mostly families walking in both directions.

But then, such a video looks to be almost too perfect. I guess it has to be for public viewing. Not like in my day when nearing the crater, the heavens opened, and the torrential downpour, consisting of marble-sized raindrops, had soaked me in seconds before I spotted a natural alcove in the lava cliff, where I had taken refuge before some kind driver offered me a lift back to Naples. Not to worry. I managed to successfully reach the crater on the next day after another hiking attempt from sea-level.

In reality, such mishaps such as a sudden rainstorm make the adventure so much more exciting! Too bad such don't show on YouTube videos. After all, there are no mountains of real success without valleys of failure in between.

But the near-perfection of video shooting can be appreciated more so if it was shot at a location where I had never set foot. Capri is one such location. Yet as a fledgeling backpacker of the early seventies, after arriving by train into Stazione Napoli Centrale, I couldn't help notice the posters featuring I Faraglioni on display around the terminus. These are natural stacks jutting out from the south coast of the island, and it's one of the main features symbolising the whole of Italy throughout the tourism industry. But back then, I wasn't aware that they were not part of the mainland. Instead, I thought that these stacks were of nearby Sorrento. 

I Faraglioni Stacks, Capri.

After finding a hotel at the Piazza near the station and asking whether there's a room available, I settled in, intending to check out the city itself. But more importantly, I Scavi di Pompeii was a must for my visit, along with a must-see of the crater of Vesuvio. Sorrento can wait until another day. 

And this is how Prowalk Tours had shone quite a light on Capri. As the cameraman walked along through the maze of narrow streets, I began to get acquainted with the island until I began to feel that I have actually visited. However, there are some setbacks. One is looking at those stacks from a height without walking down to the very foot of the stack which nearside is still part of the land. Nor was seen the second stack, out at sea, which had a natural arch through where cruise boats carrying tourists passed under.

I happen to be very fortunate to have travelled in a way I did. I guess I'm one of the fulfilment of Holy Scripture where it says that in the latter days, men shall run to and fro and knowledge shall increase, Daniel 12:4 KJV. The advance of technical sciences along with skyrocketing travel seems to have come as no surprise for the Holy Spirit.

But I was equally intrigued by King David's cry of despair when he expresses his wish to grow wings like a bird so he could fly away to rest and take respite. He actually wrote,

Oh, that I had wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest. (Psalm 55:6.)

If only David knew what the Holy Spirit had already known, some three thousand years before fulfilment! Indeed, we do "have wings like a dove and have flown away to find rest." The tourism industry is fixed on that very purpose - to find rest from the day-to-day stresses of modern living. Of course, David visualised having his own pair of wings resembling that of a bird (or even an angel) yet would have never imagined a metal tube with two huge metal wings and with a capacity to hold more than a hundred passengers. But the Holy Spirit had already known.

And there is another very astonishing prophecy found in the Revelation of St John, and that is of the Two Witnesses of Revelation 11. John records that during their ministry "the beast out of the Abyss" attacks and kills them. Whether this "beast" is the Antichrist himself or his agents, we cannot be sure. The crunch of the matter is that whilst the two bodies lying dead in the streets of Jerusalem, they are observed by the whole world all at once. This would include people living in Australia, North and South America, Africa, all of Europe and Asia, everybody will be able to see the two bodies simultaneously, verses 8-10.

Although many interpreters believe that the two witnesses will be Moses and Elijah, I tend to believe that one of them will be Enoch rather than Moses. In the Old Testament, Enoch and Elijah were the only two men in the whole of history to have been taken to heaven alive, without facing death. Moreover, if the one was Moses, he would have needed to die twice, the first time at Mt Nebo as recorded in Deuteronomy 34. As physical death is the gateway for every believer into the eternal presence of God, both Enoch and Elijah must face death sometime within human history.

For many centuries, commentators were baffled on how could the whole world observe these two lying at a specific location. Then in the 1970s, author Hal Lindsey was sure that this problem was solved by the development of Telstar Television. This was a big leap forward. But with his prediction that the 1980s was the countdown to Armageddon, the turn of the new millennium came and went with no divine intervention, as Lindsey had never thought of the idea of the internet in his time.

As far as we presently know, it does look as if the Internet will be the media used for the observance of these two witnesses by the entire global population. It will be an act of God's grace for, at their resurrection and ascension into Heaven, many in terror will turn in repentance to God, a demonstration of worldwide salvation which by then only modern technology can help bring about.

"If only I had wings like a dove, I'll fly away..."

However, this scenario is based only on what I can see and observe at the present. Nobody knows when the coming of Christ is due, and who knows, there could be even greater wizardry in service before he returns, gadgets that may not be around until after my own passing, and technology I cannot at present imagine. But neither was any of our own technology ever imagined by past generations, let alone by the Romans.

Nor by the ancient Israelites who were camped near Mount Sinai, and were ready to receive the Decalogue. While the Ten Commandments were given out, God knew everything about modern technology which will not arrive until some 3,500 years later.

Just as God has every day of our lives marked and a specific number of them to be lived by every individual, according to Psalm 139, then while we all thread through this pandemic, we can be assured that it was all written down long before the beginning of time, and thus, we can trust him.

And that includes the moment when I stood at the rim of Vesuvio's crater, trusting it would not suddenly erupt.

Both of Us in Need of a Miracle

Our present marriage relationship looks to be well admired by those around us, particular among other Christians. Over the past twelve months I was approached by two grooms for advice just prior to their nuptials. And I gave advice or guidance to one or two others since. I for one, would not hesitate to admit that the strength of our marriage comes from the grace of God. I have always been convinced that our time of meeting, our compatibility and even our age difference were not by chance nor by accident but by the foreknowledge and perfect plan of God.

Three daughters were born of our union. It was the firstborn who really changed my life. How much I loved and adored her! It wasn't long before she accompanied me wherever I went, that is of course, except to work. And during the morning small hours, whenever our child awoke and cried, it was always I who got out of bed to meet her needs, allowing my wife to sleep on uninterrupted. I became quite an expert in diaper change, bathing, and sometimes feeding as well. The latter more so whenever my firstborn accompanied me wherever I went, that is, except to work. The times I took her downtown, even on several train trips to Reading, and even on a day trip to London - just the two of us. How could I ever forget that afternoon when I took her to where I attended college on a weekly day-release some 36 years earlier, and watched her running freely in the gardens fronting the building located in East London, the same gardens I was familiar with as a student throughout the late sixties. These father/daughter outings came about mainly after our second daughter was born three years after our first. The general idea why I took my firstborn out was to give my wife some relief from raising both our daughters whilst I was at work. 

And there were times we went out all together as a family. Seaside day trips to Brighton were common, along with family trips to London and Reading. There was a time we took a catamaran for a week's camping holiday in Jersey, another time when we spent a week at a hotel in Penzance, yet another when we spent a week at a caravan at Par Sands, east from the Cornish town of St. Austell and also next to the magnificent shoreline of Polperro Heritage Coast. Another Cornish trip included the beautiful and rather quaint port of Mevagissey, on the Roseland Heritage Coast. And I just remembered a week at the Isle of Wight. Then not to forget our firstborn's first birthday when we spent the day at London Zoo. We have always believed that we did our best for our daughters, fed and clothed them well, took them to beautiful places, but most important of all, showered them with as much love and affection as we were able.

Mevagissey, Cornwall.

Indeed, as we love each other to this day, indeed, we still love our daughters to bits, as any parents in their right minds would regardless of circumstance.

However, it was later discovered that we both have mild autism, or Asperger's syndrome, a faulty wiring of our brains since gestation. But before then we were mystified on why the health visitor had concerns about the way we exhibited our character and parenting skills. In the course of time we found ourselves on the Child Protection Register for the duration of four months from November 2004 to February 2005, and looked upon as the worst time period in my entire life. I say these things now, after thirteen years, but not until after a decade later, because being on the CPR, I felt like a criminal. I was too embarrassed to share any of these things before 2014 or -15.

For convenience sake I'll refer to our social worker as Wendy. At first, I thought Wendy could be a help for us. We showed our hospitality by offering her refreshments such as tea or coffee. But she refused every offer. Whether this was her own choice or keeping with her job regulations, I couldn't tell. But it did not take long at all for her to reveal her true character, despite our first willingness to submit to her. For example, being on the CPR, Alex in particular was not allowed to be alone with our daughters whilst I was out at work, or out of the house in general. Wendy was quite strict on this, and can be prone to nastiness and impatience. What hurt me most of all was how Wendy treated Alex - like as if she was an imbecile - and together with her surprise that I happen to own a mobile phone, I found her to be insulting. To be truthful, I did leave Alex alone in the house with our daughters from time to time, knowing perfectly well that no harm will come to anyone. This was especially when I had to go out in the evening to meet some work responsibilities, for example, to collect window cleaning fees from customers who were out during the day - these fees when combined makes up our weekly income. It was when she discovered this "breach of the rules" that tensions between Wendy and myself grew to greater intensity.

Wendy, who back then was in her late twenties or early thirties, was a self-confessed atheist with a very short temper who looked down on us as social inferiors, probably gotten through her time at university, where she read on the works and research from well-known past psychiatrists and psychologists, some of them having had occult connections. A patriotic with a strong support for social class and Darwinism, she made sure that we knew of her superiority, even with her salary. A heated argument between Wendy and myself during February 2005 led to our two daughters taken from us when the Police and another social worker entered our home at three in the morning to take our daughters away for fostering. Leaving Alex screaming and prone to self-injury, our girls had never set foot in our house again. Neither was there any sympathy or compassion within Wendy's heart for us after our daughters were taken. Instead she spitted out hatred and anger. Not without reason. Her boss had given her several weeks notice to clear her desk.

This is one of life's great mysteries. How on Earth did someone such as Wendy land a job as a children's Social Worker? It was even admitted that her own office colleagues disliked her, just as our daughter's nursery school teachers disliked her as well. Her quick-tempered, impatient choleric temperament was definitely unsuited for the children's team. I even recall her at the Family Court after our daughters were taken from us for temporary fostering. She was accompanied by her supervisor, an older and a far more amenable woman. Also when Wendy visited our home for the very last time, after the children were taken, she arrived escorted by her supervisor. It all seem to confirm what I have overheard at our initial Conference back in November. Apparently the last family she dealt with fled to Scotland to escape her clutches. We were her last chance to prove herself, and sure enough, she failed. She had to go. But not before destroying our family. 

At the Isle of Wight with my firstborn.

Which led me to be offered a platform by the Berkshire Adoption Agency whose office was in Windsor. Here in my home town of Bracknell I was escorted to an empty office, quite likely the very room Wendy formerly occupied, and I became a key representative of the Berkshire Father's Group, a group of Dads across Berkshire who had all lost their children against their will for adoption. Why was I not surprised that all the Dads whom I met in that group were from a working class background? Not one middle-class father in sight. I was then interviewed by the agent. Here I explained that going by my experiences with Wendy, my opinion was that she was never suited for the job as Children's Social Worker. I also explained that whilst at the Family Court, I managed to take a peek at Wendy's CV lying unattended on a desk whilst she was momentary absent, perhaps talking to an official. She emphasised her attendance at a posh girl's school before attending university. She listed all her qualifications on her CV, school and college alike with much detail.

And there is the rub. Wendy, who was employed by an agency rather than directly by the Council, was hired because of her educational qualifications and her degree in humanistic studies, and not because she had an empathy towards families, whether parents or children alike. Or to put it another way, she wanted a job where she can be in control. I also blamed her employers for "bowing the knee" - so to speak - at her academic qualifications without taking into consideration that her character and personality remains incompatible with the job at hand. I then said that her employers must realise that such an occupation involves supporting people - people with lives to lead, with responsibilities, and with free will, thoughts and emotions, and not as mere factory-made products.

The agent was taking down notes. Did I make an effort to shake the whole local Social Service Department down to its foundations? I really hope that I did. I campaigned and pressed hard that such hiring of unsuitable candidates will never happen again. Social work is about empathy, not academic qualifications. So I said at that interview.

Over the years, to live in a deafeningly silent house took some taking used to. Fortunately, the use of both Hi-Fi and television, and later the introduction of the laptop proved to be immensely beneficial. However for months even years following our daughter's adoption, I experienced fits of intense rage. I had visions of the perfect murder! But there was nothing I could ever do. After her dismissal, Wendy disappeared completely, apparently out of our area entirely, for she was never seen again. Not only was I enraged at Wendy for destroying our family, but with the whole of England and with the English, because Wendy was the personification of England and its culture. She was a State official, representing the State. Her supreme boss was sitting as a member of the Cabinet at 10 Downing Street, home of Her Majesty's Government.

Then some three years after our first two daughters were adopted, Alex gave birth to our third daughter. The Social Services were then around us like bees around honey (informed by our GP). But this time, at the Conference to re-enter our names on the Child Protection Register, my wife and I both agree to give our daughter away for adoption, as long as we remain off the Register. It was agreed. The reason for this was not just for our welfare. Equally important, it was for our daughter's wellbeing as well. If being on the CPR means a repeat of Wendy-like experiences, then our daughter would have grown up in a very unhappy environment. She would have suffered mentally, emotionally, then later physically as well. Far better to give her away on a voluntarily basis to a couple who would provide her with a happy home and a safe environment. Fortunately, her adoptive parents are committed Christians.

Over the intervening years to the present, our marriage grew stronger as we learn to support each other. Much of this came by recognising the sovereignty of God, to give my wife all the love, support and comfort as she grieves over her loss. Also her mental state may be connected with her encroaching disability until, after spending four months in hospital during the Autumn of 2013, she now gets about in a motorised wheelchair I bought for her. However, I have committed all three of our daughters to God's care, and my prayer being that he will touch their hearts, just as he did ours. To hear that all three have trusted Jesus Christ as Saviour would be the best news we could ever hear.

So the reason for writing such a blog as this one? Over an incident which took place a few evenings ago. I told Alex that I have forgiven Wendy and her associates for what she had done. In actual fact, I have forgiven her a few years ago. Not for her sake but for my sake, and to allow God to have his will fulfilled in my life. Therefore when I made a passing statement to Alex that I have forgiven Wendy, she went into hysteria. Shedding buckets of tears, she asked how could I possibly do such a thing? What kind of a husband am I? They are our children. She then went unconscious, and because such emotions causes her breathing muscles to tighten, I had to enable her to breathe properly by manipulating her chest. I was that close to panic and the need to call an ambulance.

She eventually came to, but there was a coldness towards me. Instead of petting and affectionate talk, as was the norm, she told me to go to my computer because she just wants to sleep. I tried to persuade her that I'm no traitor. It was no intention to show her betrayal. Feeling lonely on the computer, I played a video on You-Tube, Cold As Christmas by Elton John. Has our marriage came to an end? The coldness remained for the rest of the next day. Only now our marriage is restoring itself to normality.

Alex is unable to forgive Wendy. To her, she destroyed our family and therefore cannot be forgiven for it. That may be the reason for her present disability. It is a viscous circle she remains locked into. As Jesus himself said,

Without me ye can do nothing - John 15:5.

Alex cannot forgive Wendy in her own strength. Only the Spirit of God could soften her heart to the extent in changing her mind. In other words, she needs a miracle. As a matter of fact, we both need a miracle. A miracle to reveal the power of God in our lives that would forever change us for the better. 

  

Living on a Knife Edge: Stack or Sponge?

A good friend and I sat in a pub not far out of London. As he was due to wed a few weeks later, he asked for some advice on the health of our marriage between Alex and myself. According to our eighteen years of marital experience, to work out our relationship, we could either perceive our priorities as a traditional stack or more of a revolutionary sponge. By means of the stack, to arrange in order of importance goes something like this:

1. God.

2. Spouse.

3. Children and child raising.

4. Church.

5. Home.

6. Money and budgeting.

7. Work.

8. Leisure including holidays.

9. Day to day Hobbies.

Of course, your priorities may differ. But if you are a committed Christian believer, then I could bet your bottom dollar that you'll have God right up there on top of your stack. Underneath God, you may put church at #2. Or home at #2 and church at #3. Or even Hobbies or Holidays at #2 and Spouse at #9. You may even have more than nine items in your stack. You could have as many as a dozen. Perhaps even more than that. For example, you could add to the list Food and Drink. With me, that's under the item Home, which would also include the Car, or Transport. Whichever way your stack may look, it's still a stack. This was the method taught to me by churches and its literature especially during my early days as a believer, while getting to grips with my new faith in the area of personal devotion.

Until in recent years of hard experience, I came to realise that although the stacking system looks so good on paper, it comes up wanting in day-to-day living. Okay, I shall elaborate. There, on the upper shelf at #1 sits God. There he is at top priority. Yet he sits there apparently with no influence over all the others. Rather like the Bible resting on the upper shelf of a bookcase. There, it may have no influence on the other books or magazines sitting beneath it unless this particular bookshelf stores only Christian literature with its pages sprinkled with Bible quotes and verses.  

And so whilst chatting to my mate in the bar, I came up with the wet sponge illustration. Here, instead of each item placed on a shelf or on top of each other according to priority, they are all sponges soaked in water in a bucket. And there is no sponge labelled God in the bucket, for God is the water itself, penetrating into the heart of every sponge in the bucket, the bucket itself being a good representation of your heart. I think this is a far better illustration than the stack, for there is no need to prioritise. Furthermore, if a tree is planted by a river or stream, then it will always bear good fruit, according to Psalm 1:1-3 and Jeremiah 17:7-8.

Perhaps you're thinking: Hold on, you did not place Prayer on your list, especially at second place in the stack. But prayer is within the God item. Coming to think of it, I do wonder how often one is engaged in prayer whilst washing the car, or taking a swim in the sea and throwing a ball at a fellow bather to catch and throw back, or involved in a league game of football, or for that matter, cuddling up to your wife or husband on the sofa, or watching TV, or at work trying to negotiate an important contract with a customer or with another company. Really, how would the boss feel if he sees you spending your office time engaged in prayer at your desk? 

Therefore I have come to realise over the years that rather than place God above everything else in my life, I much prefer to perceive him as involved with every aspect of living. For example, knowing that God is with me if I take a dip in the sea, to relax in the sauna, or when I was busy running a window-cleaning business before retirement, when I go shopping, or cuddling up to Alex, watching TV, or flying abroad or on board a fast train. Or checking the bank account or visiting the GP. Or just about to be anaesthetised in readiness for open-heart surgery, which happened almost exactly three years ago in 2015. 

And forgiving someone who actively dislikes you. To forgive in such circumstances requires the power of God. To forgive is not merely to forget or to shove under the carpet. To forgive is to be willing to extend the hand of friendship and reconciliation. Even if or when it does not happen, my willingness to do so will always be there. It's for my benefit, not for the other person's benefit. If he remains disliking me, then even after my forgiving of him, his feelings towards me will remain unchanged. It's my feelings that will change - change for the better. Like the water soaking the sponge until it pours out if removed from the bucket, I need to be soaked with the Holy Spirit at all times, so I can be a blessing to others as well as myself. 

And in our set of circumstances, the need for God in our lives is vital. Because with my wife, the need to call for an ambulance remains imminent. I can happen at any moment. This is due to an illness she has which confines her to a wheelchair whenever she is out of doors. Most likely psychosomatic illness (meaning upset mind sick body, a term no longer used in the medical world). A series of family tragedies occurring in the five months between 2004 and 2005 had an impact on the neurotic area of her physical health. This has resulted in sudden, highly intense and severe pains, particularly in her back, her legs and even her head. One moment we might be talking lightheartedly, maybe sharing a joke, or watching TV, or even cooking a meal, when all of a sudden she goes into a severe pain which causes her to writhe on the floor in agony. I have no option but to dial for the emergency services.

Then to add her constant need for medicine, especially Diazepam, along with her prescribed antidepressants, both which doctors say are addictive drugs. But her daily dosage is absolutely essential for her well-being. In truth, this sort of constant imminence is a very frightening experience, along with endless living on a knife edge, wondering just when she is subjected to another attack of intense pain. But despite of all that, we will never separate! I love her so much and I know how much she loves me. To be with her constantly, as I see it, was worth sacrificing what was my dearest pet at the time, which was long-haul travel and backpacking, onto the altar of lifelong marriage. Yet to this day I have no regrets, instead I see the responsibility as a carer as something of a privilege given by God as a means to mould us both into the likeness of his Son Jesus Christ. 

And how much I need to be thoroughly soaked in the waters of the Holy Spirit of God. Maybe at first I was dropped into the bucket as a stone. A stone is totally impermeable. Water cannot get beneath its surface. But what is impossible with man is possible with God. God can - and does - change a stone into a sponge so the water can penetrate. For me, my responsibility as a carer is playing its role in this lifelong process of change, a process known as sanctification.

But having said all that, one of the most important needs required in this sanctification process is love and support, especially from my church fellowship. To know that I am loved, supported and encouraged goes a long way in coping with an emergency call-out which can strike suddenly and unexpectedly. This, I think, was one of the main reasons why Jesus established the church. I can think of three principal reasons why he was so wise to make such a move. First, the church, which is an assembly of saints meeting together, is pictured as a threefold Body of Christ, the Bride of Christ and the Holy Temple, a people for whom he gave his own life in order to build a spiritual dwelling for himself. Secondly, the church is an outward expression of God's holiness, a living letter of Christ written to win the souls of unbelievers and saving them from their sins and eternal loss. And thirdly, the church can be perceived as a spiritual and possibility a psychological hospital for the healing of the soul towards God and for each other, and maybe for the physical body too.

And as I see it, the local church should be a refuge for everyone whose conflict with sin, with the world, and with the Devil has each taken a toll on the individual's well-being. A place to run to, to take refuge in, a strong tower for the righteous to flee into, and a place for the lost to find his eternal destiny. A place which offers an alternate lifestyle to the rest of society.

Imagine a married couple who has two grown-up sons, which is a compilation from many posts on the Internet I had read before now. Both of these sons attended university and therefore they are both successful professionals with a good education and income. Their parent's pride and joy. In the course of time one son marries, but later suffers a divorce. The other, well into his thirties and still single, reports a severe back pain which is constantly troubling him. Rather like my wife Alex, but without the wheelchair. Physical disability? Not so much of physical disability as an upset mind and emotional torment. Another example of a psychosomatic illness? Perhaps stemming from being a closet homosexual? If so, are his respectable, middle class, church-going parents aware of this? If not, then the son's fear of coming out to his Mum and Dad reveals his bad perception of God reflected in his parent's religious attitude and performance. If on the other hand, they are aware of their son's sexual orientation, then distress will hit on one of either of their soteriological beliefs. If the parents believe in Eternal Security of the Believer, or Once Saved Always Saved, then they will perceive their son's sexual orientation as proof that "He was never saved in the first place." Alternately, they will fear that their son is in danger of losing his salvation, if he hadn't lost it already.

Indeed, how much do we all need to be soaked through and through with the living waters of the Holy Spirit! I have read much and heard a lot about the LGBT's rather fierce hostility against church and organised religion. Burdened down with church-based society-induced guilt, rejection and hostility from family members, forced segregation from work colleagues, isolation and bullying from fellow school and college students, along with church condemnation, such attitude creates atheism on a massive scale among them, along with apathy towards anything spiritual. With the acceptance of Charles Darwin as their Messiah, these souls, whom Christ died for, are headlong into a lost eternity.

I wish to note here that a closet gay is not necessarily a sodomite. That is why I believe such hostility and self-righteousness towards someone with a different orientation is altogether hypocritical, evil and totally unnecessary. If his orientation is towards other men but refrains from anything immoral, especially for the protection of his own reputation as well as for the sake of the Gospel, then what is the real difference between him and a straight individual who also keeps his sexual urges under control for the same reasons, and in church the hetero is looked upon as a model of righteous excellence but not the homo? Is the hetero saved and "in Christ" while the homo is forever lost and cannot be saved unless he first undergoes some orientation realignment therapy, which often includes electric shocks and other uncomfortable forms of treatment?

Such unmitigated nonsense! And that is in light of the knowledge of quite a number of unmarried heterosexual men I associate with, who are in their fifties and sixties and all of them living alone without ever having a wife or fathered any children. As far as I know, they have no need to live on the knife edge like I have to with Alex's symptoms, along with the closet gay or his parents. Neither does any of these bachelors had ever attempted to pick up a woman at a nightclub or bar. Rather, instead of allowing society to generate guilt against the struggling individual, we all need to be soaked in the water of the Holy Spirit, letting his love flow freely and without guilt or judgement. And that includes allowing the Holy Spirit to touch every area of our lives.

When God spoke to me...

I have arrived at one of the biggest crossroads of my life. This very weekend I officially retire from full time work, a permanent ceasing after 47 years of earning a living since April 1968, including 35 years as a self employed domestic window cleaner. It will feel strange, even if I most likely take on an occasional job from time to time, such as cleaning the windows of a friend's house, or even willing to emulsion the walls of someone's bedroom (the very last paid job completed as a bachelor before I married 48 hours later). Or maybe giving a hand at midweek church arrangement - unpaid, but enjoying fellowship whilst volunteering - really, anything to get out of the house daily. For the idea of retiring from full time work was inspired by the thorough enjoyment I'd experienced while on convalescence from February this year, all three months of it, and to tell the truth, the need to return to work in June had broken my heart. 

One of the benefits of the convalescence period was the strengthening of our marriage. The ability to be at hand whenever Alex needed me gave her a far greater sense of assurance than when I was out of the house from morning to evening every weekday. But I have never disliked my work, especially as one self employed. I now smile at this, but I recall having a chat with one of my clients, and telling him how wonderful to be the human boss of the business, and as such, the underlying secret of its longevity. Human boss? I wonder what my client thought of that statement? I doubt that he had ever met a non-human boss. Or perhaps he has met quite a few! But for me at least, I acknowledged that the true Boss was God himself, and I was merely a steward of the responsibilities the occupation consisted.

But to divorce Mondays from Sundays is wrong, I believe. With many a church-goer, a typical week may looks something like this:

Sunday - Devotion to God. Monday-Friday - Work and responsibilities. Saturday - Day off.

Such a way of living, subconscious as it may be, may surprise a person when the Lord suddenly cuts in during the week. So I recall such an unforgettable Monday morning of October 1992. That was the morning I had a vision to visit Jerusalem during the following year to pray over the city. Up till then, for the last twelve years, I was struggling financially to make ends meet. That year, I was fortunate enough to accompany a mate to the Lake District National Park up north in Cumbria, a typically average break in those days. Then from that very morning onward, I was able to put away £20 every week for ten months. This gave me more than enough to spend a full two weeks in Israel, staying at a backpacker's hostel in the heart of Jerusalem Old City. Since then, I have experienced a dramatic change in lifestyle. From the same line of work, I was able to return to Israel a year later in 1994, where I stood on the summit of the Mount of Olives, overlooking the city from the east. It was at that moment that I had a sudden inspiration to backpack the United States exactly a year later, opening the door to further travel, including Singapore and Australia in 1997.

This is the grace of God expressed through love. Looking back, I am now convinced that the vision I had that dreary Autumn morning was from God, simply because of the resulting change in my life.

Grace - Gift Received At Christ's Expense. What other language can such an acronym be applied to such a beautiful word? That is what grace is about, isn't it? Receiving good things without deserving them, let alone attempting to earn them. And the greatest demonstration of grace is found in Luke 11:13. Here Jesus, who is addressing a crowd he calls evil, promises the Holy Spirit to fill anyone who simply asks. That is grace. For someone with an evil heart to be filled with the Holy Spirit. No if's or but's. God's grace overcomes evil. The Holy Spirit enters an evil, unregenerate heart and regenerates it, making the person a new creation and adopts him into God's own family. That's why I believe in the "sinner's prayer" - asking Jesus to come into the heart. It is synonymous with asking for the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are three in one Godhead, the Holy Trinity.

I was reading the Old Testament book of Job just the other day, and what his young friend Elihu had to say about God's grace was quite intriguing. For he says,
If it were (God's) intention and withdrew his spirit and breath,
all mankind would perish together and man would return to the dust.
Job 34:14-15.

This brings me to mind of a newspaper article about a book recently released, Magicians Of the Gods, by Graham Hancock, who also wrote Fingerprints of the Gods which sold over a million copies worldwide. In Magicians, Hancock uses various ancient prophecies from non-Biblical sources as evidence that within the next twenty years a comet will pass within the Earth's gravitational pull, explode in the upper atmosphere, and its impact on the planet will wipe out all life, including mankind, parallel to the supposed impact of an asteroid which had eliminated all dinosaurs some sixty million years ago.

Perhaps there is only one Biblical reference to this kind of disaster, and it's found in Revelation 8:8-11. Here, two large bodies from space falls to the Earth. The first is "something like a huge mountain, ablaze, was thrown into the sea." The second, "a great star, blazing like a torch" fell on land, most likely in the Middle East, while the first fell into the Mediterranean. This looks to me like one comet or asteroid which broke into two and the friction with the air caused them both to become incandescent. But neither brings the whole of mankind to extinction, but rather only one third of all sea creatures in the Mediterranean, along with just a third of all mariners who were unfortunate enough to be within its impact zone. Likewise, the second fragment poisons the rivers, and according to Revelation 9:1, the impact caused a cloud to cover the land, darkening the sun and moon.

Very much like that of a volcano blowing its top, as with the case of Krakatoa in August 1883. This explosion has killed up to 36,000 people, many by the resulting tsunamis, and darkness lasting for three days covering an area of 275 miles 442 km. For such an event as this, the explosion did not wipe out the whole of the human race, and it looks like the asteroid of Revelation would have a very similar effect, but it will not make the human race extinct. And that is because of the grace of God.

And here is where I believe authors such as Graham Hancock had got it wrong. Because of the grace of God, life on Earth as we know it will never be destroyed by a comet or asteroid impact. And it was both Abraham and the prophet Jeremiah who gives the reasons. Abraham was interceding for Sodom not to be destroyed if there were as little as ten righteous people living in the city. God assured him that the presence of just ten righteous persons would be enough to save the whole city (Genesis 18:16-33).

Jeremiah wrote that the very existence of the Earth and the Universe as a whole hangs upon the promise God has made with Abraham's descendants, the nation of Israel. In Jeremiah 33:19-26 for example, it is God himself who reassures the distressed prophet, who had watched his beloved city Jerusalem fall into the hands of the Babylonians, that unless the divine covenant with the day and with the night can be broken, God will never reject the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. This is the wonderful promise of his grace, that the very existence of Israel guarantees the ongoing life for the entire planet.

To believe the Gospel saves us from such anxieties - comet impact, volcanic eruptions, rising sea levels, tsunamis, a mass pandemic, worldwide famine, or anything that could wipe out the whole of mankind on a universal scale. Because of God's grace, it will not happen. And amazing enough, it was God's grace that had saved my life, literally three times when I was a youth, including a daring challenge to swim out to the end of the pier at a seaside resort. About halfway, it turned out that the tidal current was so strong that I found myself drifting towards the support structs of the pier itself, and I grabbed and held on to a girder, or else the current would have sucked me under. It was only through another swimmer, older and stronger than myself, who gave me line-by-line instructions to get me back onto the beach, which had saved my life. The grace of God has triumphed.

Remember not the sins of my youth and my rebellious ways; according to your love remember me, for you are good, O LORD.
Psalm 25:7.

Since God's grace has sustained me from the day of conception to this day, why should I fear and worry over the future, particularly in the financial area? As this is a huge turning point in my life, it is so tempting, and quite reasonable too, to ask, What now? Experience has already shown that claiming benefit, in this case Pension Credit, as I am still two years under 65, has been a fickle affair, with a maze of clauses and conditions that can trip me up, in this case forcing me back to work after telling all my clientele of my retirement. How embarrassing! How much of a prat would I feel? Trusting in the goodness of God brings peace. Realising that all things work for the good for those who love him, who are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28). If the benefit claim fails, and I have to return to work, I'll be bitterly disappointed, but I will also be aware that God not only knows about it, but he is sovereign. Everything is for a good reason.

May I close with a request for prayer, that all will go to plan, and I indeed can retire from full time work with God's blessing. And may God bless you all.

A Lone Figure Knocks on #10.

Gosh, this has been quite a week! A week of shocking unexpectedness as David Cameron, leader of the Conservative Party, walking back into number 10 Downing Street. The surprise came after weeks of speculation on who will win the 2015 General Election, and form the next Government. So the pollsters went out canvassing - in the streets, at the front door, via the phone, on the Internet, and all concluded that there would be no clear winner, and so they - the pollsters - then speculated a coalition: either between the Tories and the Liberal Democrats as was the case of the last Parliament, or that of the Labour Party in coalition with the Scottish National Party. And so, right wing newspapers pleads with the electorate to vote Tory, while newspapers with a left wing leaning exhorted us to vote for Labour.

Boring stuff? Or are you sick enough of British politics to have it spilling out of your ears? Yea, I felt that at times too. But the Tory victory has sent shock waves across the nation, and pollsters running round like headless chickens while pondering on how they missed the target by such a wide margin when it came to predicting the final outcome. According to the Press, the win by the Conservatives was not because they sent a high level of inspiration during the weeks of campaigning, but rather for two reasons: first, the idea of a left wing socialist party allied to a further extreme left wing Scottish party, had no appeal to Middle England. And secondly, there were many "shy Tories" who either weren't truthful when asked by a canvasser, or were genuinely undecided, and plunged for the Tories at the very last moment when standing alone in the privacy of the polling booth. It was the "shy Tory supporter" who probably made a considerable impact, as such a political group are often referred to as the Nasty Party, or the Party for the Rich - was more likely to lie to the pollster just to save himself from embarrassment.

Than the case of Edward Miliband, former leader of the Labour Party. Known as "Red Ed" for his Marxist Socialist standing, he has now resigned from his post. Back in 2010, he "stabbed his brother in the back" so to speak, to win the vote for the job of party leader. David Miliband, Edward's elder brother, had a centre-ground standing in the political arena, and he was against the Trade Union paymaster's demand to go towards the Left. Instead, his younger brother took the helm while David dropped out of politics altogether to take up a post at a charity in the United States. And that has changed political history for a long time, at least. For it is generally agreed, even by right wing newspapers, that David Miliband would have strolled into victory with little challenge, and with greater enthusiasm from the electorate. So as it looks, to me at least, it was not the Englishman's love for the Conservatives that had got them back into power, but a case of having the devil they knew, rather than the devil they did not know, to govern their country.

So all this drama of political infighting would make for a good TV soap opera, would it not? No matter how extensive each political party is committed in making our livelihoods better, or to turn this nation locked in turmoil into something of a Utopia - for many millennia, human governments, with all of them believing that they have the right answers, had failed to achieve their Utopian ideals. Amazing isn't it? Thousands of years of practice and nobody has ever got it right. Realising this, on polling day itself, I posted a message on Facebook saying that a lonely figure was standing at the famous black door of 10 Downing Street, gently knocking, and with what appears to be a wound at his hand. I was rather surprised at the small response such a statement had collected, since most of my Facebook friends are believers. But I'll be honest here, my statement isn't entirely original. A few decades ago, someone had a vision of the United Nations Building in New York City. In his vision, a gigantic figure of Jesus Christ was standing outside the shimmering glass edifice, gently knocking. Such a vision became the talk of the town.

Meanwhile, there had been something of a controversy over a painting hanging inside St. Paul's Cathedral in London. The artwork was created by William Holman Hunt, and the picture depicts the Lord Jesus knocking on a door which looks as if it had never been opened. The controversy was between one group of Bible students versus another group. One group believed that the painting depicted John 8:12, where Jesus calls himself the Light of the World, and is seen here holding a lit lamp in one hand, while with the other he knocks at the door, and he was calling the resident to come out of his house and follow him. The other interpretation is taken from Revelation 3:20, where Jesus is seen knocking at the door of a man's heart, and asking to be let in, and have supper with him in his own home. 

I recall December 1972, on a cold wet Saturday night, walking through the Strand in central London when I was stopped by two young men in the street, and asked my opinion about Jesus Christ. Being wet from the rain, I invited them into a nearby bar, where it was warm and dry, and I bought them each a drink. It was there in that pub that they took out a Bible and had shown me Revelation 3:20, along with a number of other Scriptures, mainly from the Gospel of John, and explained to me about "asking Jesus to come into my heart" - nowadays known as the sinner's prayer. It was the first time ever that I heard of such a concept, but in throughout the 1970's it seems to be the rage, originating, I believe, from America.  But it was later in the same decade that I heard the pastor of one of my former churches debunking Revelation 3:20 as a conversion verse from sinner to saint. So what does that verse actually say?

Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come into him, and sup with him, and he with me.

The pastor's argument was that this verse was addressed to a church of believers in Laodicea, a city in what is now Western Turkey, and a renowned centre for medicine. The church there had lost their zeal they once had, and had become lukewarm in their commitment to the Lord. If they didn't mend their ways, then Jesus would "spit them out of his mouth" - a reference of the demise of the church as a local assembly of believers, and not meaning the loss of individual salvation as some have interpreted. Maybe it is this pastor's interpretation of the text that has been the basis of putting off many from responding to my Facebook post. To them, the idea of Jesus knocking on the door for admission does not seem to be Biblical, and even among our present church elders, the "sinner's prayer" as we know it, is not accepted by them as a means of conversion. 

But I have heard and read numerous testimonies on how "asking Jesus into the heart" has changed the lives of those who had said the prayer, and how they grew up spiritually to become mature Christians. This has made me think that the onus is not so much on the words spoken as on the attitude of the heart of the person praying. Personally I believe it is okay for a person to recite such a prayer if it's based on his new found faith. I would not say it is mandatory for conversion, neither would I say that not praying it means a non-conversion. There seems to be many conversions recorded in the New Testament which does not seem to include the prayer - the conversion of the three thousand Jews at Pentecost is one example (Acts 2), and the healing of a lame man at the Beautiful Gate seems to be another (Acts 3). The Ethiopian eunuch, after being shown the Scriptures by evangelist Philip, simply confessed that Jesus is the Son of God. That was enough to merit baptism in a nearby pond, testifying to the genuineness of his conversion (Acts 8:26:40). 

And concerning the above mentioned church leader, here is where I find the rub. Apart from Revelation 3:20, there are other verses in the New Testament which indicates that Jesus dwells in the heart. Obviously not in the physical blood pump located in the chest, but in the human spirit. In Ephesians 3:17, Paul exhorts his readers to allow Christ to dwell in their hearts by faith, as in John 14:23 where Jesus promises the entire Trinity dwelling within him who loves God and keep his commandments. But I believe that it is wise to pray the "sinner's prayer" at conversion, and there is a verse, spoken by Jesus himself, which strongly encourages this. It is found in Luke 11:13, where Jesus makes a solemn promise that the Father will give the Holy Spirit to all who asks of him. And this promise is unconditional, given to men with evil hearts, but with enough faith to believe in the willingness of God to grant their requests.

It is of my opinion that Luke 11:13 is the most demonstrative verse in the entire Bible about God's free grace. And straight out of the mouth of Jesus himself. Because we believe that the Father is Almighty God, the Son is Almighty God, and the Holy Spirit is Almighty God, but that does not make three Almighty Gods but one Almighty God. If one has enough faith to ask for the Holy Spirit to enter into him and the request is granted by the Father, according to the Son's own testimony, such a request is exactly the same as asking Jesus himself to come into the heart. I have even read the testimony of one asking God himself to come into his heart, and the resulting change in his life provided edifying reading. Little wonder that many who testify to the sinner's prayer have enjoyed changed lives. 

The vision of Jesus knocking on the door of a person's heart is not a fluke, according to Revelation 3:20. Neither is the gigantic version of Jesus knocking on the shimmering skyscraper of the United Nations building. Nor is it weird to think of Jesus Christ knocking on the door of 10 Downing Street. The truth is: every man and woman alike is in a desperate need of God to fill their lives, everyone without exception. That is the reason why we are are here. To know God, and to partake in his infinite love already existing between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The existence of human government is because of our fallen natures, our evil hearts spoilt by sin, and as a result, governing authorities were a necessary placement by God himself to keep evil under restraint, according to what Paul writes in Romans 13. We can conclude, therefore, that the main principle of our Prime Minister's duties is to keep evil under check, so that men can live in peace with each other, and the Gospel can be spread without hindrance.

Regardless on who wins and loses the Election.

Slain - But Not By George

St. George's Day came and went as expected - without any fanfare, bunting, flags, live bands, let alone any street carnivals, at least, not around my area. As I reclined under the warm sunshine on a sloping grass verge fronting the town's Roman Catholic Church, directly opposite the entrance of the indoor shopping mall, I watched people saunter past in all four directions, with no one, as far as I observed, wearing tee shirts sporting a red cross on a white background. Instead, whether any were in a hurry or not, all had some business to attend, whatever nature such calling would have been, without any hint that this day was meant to be special. Rather it was just another working day.

I guess most countries have their own national days. Even in the United Kingdom, Scotland celebrates St. Andrew's Day; with Ireland it's St. Patrick's; and Wales has St. David - not the ancient King David of Israel around 1,000 BC as I once thought, but a far more recent Bishop of Menevia who was around during the 6th Century AD. But even with these three saints, Andrew, Patrick, and David, a far greater effort has always been made to bring some carnival atmosphere into commemorating their special days. But not for our poor St. George, patron saint of England. As this is being typed right in the midst of a national election campaign to form the next UK Government, all the political parties broadcast their own manifestos, yet only one - the United Kingdom Independence Party, or UKIP for short - promises to make St George's Day a national Bank Holiday.

Not that businesses across England would welcome such a proposal. Unlike Easter Monday, May Day, and Spring Bank Holidays, all which falls on a Monday; St. Georges Day, like New Years Day, would fall on any day of the week. I can imagine employers being up in arms over this. Rue the day when St. George selects a Tuesday or a Thursday to mark his commemoration. Imagine the large number of employees who would phone in sick on the Monday or Friday respectively. I recall once the huge commotion in our national newspapers the week following January 1st a few years ago, when the holiday fell on a Thursday. According to the Press, the nation's economy had taken a nosedive when the Friday was taken off in addition to the holiday, and did not pick up again until the doors of the workplace opened on Monday, January 5th. Although according to one poll, 83% of the English population is in favour of making our national day a Bank Holiday, I can't see this going down well in the business world.

But even if St George became a national holiday, it would have nothing in comparison to the highly festive days celebrated with carnivals and a party atmosphere found in other countries, especially in Asian and tropical regions. Could it be that our conservative self reserve, the stiff upper lip, and our stoicism, along with a large dollop of pessimism, be connected with our lousy, unpredictable climate? After all, a chilly wind accompanied by driving rain is pretty well normal for August, when the kids take their Summer leave from school. Then to add to this, living on an island, cut off from mainland Europe by a minimum twenty miles of sea, does give us a false sense of an ideal society over the centuries at least, along with the delusion of being chosen by God, and his divine approval to go out to sea and conquer the world for him.

Oh, the irony of it all! We have St. George as the patron saint of England, yet this guy, whether historic of mythical, wasn't even an Englishman, but imported from either Georgia east of the Black Sea, Cappadocia in Turkey, or from Libya. Other things we so consider traditionally English includes tea, imported from India. Then the most English of all takeaways, fish & chips, being a convenience meal originating from a group of Jewish refugees, and the traditional pub or tavern was also common throughout the ancient Roman Empire, so according to a recent BBC programme. Little wonder that the English have really, little of their own to celebrate, and maybe can't be bothered to make any commemoration at all.

But come the World Cup football tournament, or any other national or international event, whether sporting, or pageantry, then many St. George Crosses begins to appear across the land - upon bedroom windows, gardens, tied to the aerial of cars, clothing, and even tattooed permanently on the (usually male) body. Yet it was only recently that I have learnt that the red cross of the English flag is depicted from the Roman Catholic crucifix. If there was a time that I wished I had a much keener interest in history at school, I might have learnt about such an elaborate story brought back to England by the Crusaders during the eleventh or twelfth Century. Something about the legend of a brave warrior who bartered with the local pagan population to slay a dragon living in a nearby cave, who had received a young maiden as a sacrificial offering, in exchange for a mass conversion of the people to Catholicism. When the local population agreed to the conversion, George took his crucifix with him, along with his sword, and successfully slew the beast. Afterwards the people were baptised into their new faith.

A very charming story which does not seem to have any historical verification, but I guess it was a good one to enforce the morale of the Crusaders themselves, as well as boosting the credentials of the Catholic faith to the general population of Europe and Britain. However, as one who believe that most, if not all legends, have a kernel of truth embedded within, it is likely that such a character named George did exist, in much the same way as Bishop Nicholas of Myra, a historical figure, known for his generosity and goodness towards the poor, giving rise to the eternal festive character of Santa Clause riding high upon a sleigh flown by airborne reindeer. So in truth, this fellow named George might have been a valiant soldier who had performed an outstanding act of war, or rescued a maiden in distress in similar ways that a fireman would rescue someone from a burning building. He might have even slain a more realistic beast such as a lion. Unfortunately, a lion is far less romantic or mystical than a dragon. But whatever the historical character might have been, he is portrayed as strong, courageous, and brave. And these are the triple virtue every Englishman wants to see in himself, as well as by others.

And maybe that's it. If I was to see myself as strong, brave and courageous, then why the need to trust in God? I would have everything I'll need, not just to survive, but also to prosper, and in a way to be my own saviour. Could this be the underlying factor which has built self confidence in lieu of faith in God? The snag with this philosophy is that it can be very difficult to hold up in the real world. Anger, fear and anxiety are the three harmful emotions which not only are so detrimental to the soul but also to physical health as well. I am aware that most men can keep their emotions under check in public, at least to a certain limit. But I am convinced that keeping emotions bottled up under a stiff upper lip, then be told to man up when things go wrong, is not the solution. Instead, Peter instructed all believers to "cast all your burdens upon him (Jesus, the resurrected Lord) for he cares for you" (1 Peter 5:7).

Strong, Bravery, and Courage, three virtues that are good qualities in a person's character. But if centred on self, as was the case of George and all his followers, than they could be a blockage to having faith in God, instead creating self-confidence and pride, along with a self-set standard no one can honestly keep. When failure comes, the one who thought he had these characteristics may arrive at the point in believing he is weak, cowardly, and timid, resulting in developing a low self-esteem that can last a whole lifetime, even leading to severe depression, and eventually, the possibility of suicide.

King David of Israel was very strong, very brave and very courageous. Whenever there was a threat from a strong enemy, particularly from the Philistines, he led his forces into battle, and always won, bringing victory to Israel. But he did not depend on his own strength to win these victories. Instead, he wholly trusted in God. One of the best examples of this dependency is found in 2 Samuel 7:18-29, where David prays to the Lord after God had delivered a set of promises through Nathan. Another is Psalm 40, where is faith in God is fully testified. David was filled with the Holy Spirit, who came into him at the moment he was anointed with oil by the prophet Samuel (1 Samuel 16:13). Throughout the rest of his life, David allowed the Holy Spirit of God to produce the fruits, including courage and bravery.

But while great men such as King David depended fully on God and has gotten his strength by trusting in him, that is not the case with the natural man, who has only himself to depend on, and is the basis of pride and self-exaltation if success comes his way. This happens individually, as a group or company, and as a nation. While in the past, the English might have had something to be proud of, and to boast about, mainly over imperial success and victory in warfare. Nowadays, there is little to be proud over, and the shameful defeat and humiliation of the England squad in the last World Cup tournament, for example, caused the nation to mourn silently while remaining stoic among other nations.

There is only one alternative, and that is to believe in your heart that Jesus Christ died, was buried, and on the third day rose from the dead, proving to the world that he is the Christ and Lord. By believing, you allow the Cross of Christ to slay the self-controlled Old Man, to give birth to the New Man, born of God with new desires to love and serve God and other people, and to love the brethren, that is, fellow believers. It was Jesus who has shown us how easy it is to be filled with the Holy Spirit of God. Just ask, and his Father in heaven will gladly give (Luke 11:13.) If you believe in your heart enough to ask God to fill you with his Holy Spirit, then he will send him, no strings attached. And that promise is from none other than Jesus Christ himself.

There is a test set out by John the apostle to prove whether you are truly born of God, and is this: Do you love the brethren, your fellow believers in Jesus? If you do, then you are a true believer (1 John 4:7-8.) God's love in us does not allow room for pride, haughtiness, conceit, snobbery, or the feeling of ethnic or racial superiority, neither does it seek for heroism. Instead, it seeks for the interest of the affairs of others.

Without the need to slay any dragons.

The Greatest Gift of All

After the England football squad had returned to the UK earlier last week, I could not help but feel sorry for Roy Hodgson's team, after reading a long forum column of angry criticism aimed at the failed team players, following an online newspaper article. To be sent home early from the tournament, with still the knockout rounds to come, must have resulted in a sense of utter despair. What a sorrowful sight as the plane touched down at Luton Airport with not a single fan to welcome them in. As one commentator sarcastedly remarked: How would the star striker, Wayne Rooney, feel about putting out the dusbin, helping out with the housework, and washing up the dishes while the television spews out massive crowd applause from Brazil as one goal after another is scored?

As he stands at the kitchen sink, he could have well be visualising himself running full pace towards the opposing goal, when a teammate passes the ball to him. Being in the right position, he shoots, and as he watches the ball defy the goalkeeper as it flies into the net, half of the entire stadium arises with a thundering, almost earth-shaking cheer, amplified by the curvaceous structure of the building itself, as several thousand red and white clad spectators rise to their feet. There is only a few minutes left as the ball is fought over by the opposing team players. But they don't go very far, because the referee gives that one long, final blow of the whistle. The World Cup trophy will be heading with them to England. The entire audience of English fans stand on their feet to scream out their applause and praise, and the striker is aware that crowds of multiple thousands will await them as their plane lands back home, and then to be driven very slowly through the packed streets of London in an open top double deck bus. Then soon afterwards, team manager Roy Hodgson will receive a Knighthood from the Queen.

His dream fade into crushing reality as the green grass of the football pitch metamorphose into the gently rocking soap suds in the kitchen sink, as he finishes his final dish. The utter despair he must have felt, being out of the Cup so early, and becoming a pariah of the nation as he is accused of being grossly overpaid, spoilt, lazy, satisfied, and lacking passion for his country. And so the sarcastic comments flows in as the three lions becomes the three kittens, according to one other writer.

But there is still hope for Britain at the Wimbledon Tennis Championships, even if the star player is not English, but Scottish. Andrew Murray had won the British single men's grand slam just the previous year in 2013, after more than seventy years without a British win since Fred Perry. Here is one man who can hold up the Union Jack, if not the Cross of St. George, that would give Britain a sporting saviour.

Andrew Murray

But even as I was aware of Murray's victory at Wimbledon, following a gold medal in the 2012 London Olympics, somehow I did not feel the national adulation oozing for his victories as I would have felt if England had won the Cup. This had made me wonder whether Murray's predecessor, Englishman Tim Henman, would have received far greater glory had he won Wimbledon.

So at this time of writing, life beats on with the nation now focused on this South West London suburb. But if he wins - great; if not - well there is always next year. Meanwhile, life carries on, wondering what the real purpose of us mankind being here. From the news bulletin spewing from the TV set, Muslims in the Middle East clutch at each other's throats - Sunni against Shiite - fighting over territory, citizens by the thousands made homeless, and many more desperately trying to cross the Mediterranean in overcrowded, rickety boats which certainly aren't seaworthy, with many lives lost to the sea. Meanwhile, a large proportion of our national population seems to be deluded with our Government ministers, the majority from exclusive public schools, and having never done a day's manual work, all being fully committed to the welfare of big business over those of lower income families. I read newspaper columnists favouring the privatisation of the National Health Service, with an introduction of fees for just visiting the G.P. - at present, a free service made available for everyone to receive treatment regardless of income, funded by a national purse into which every earner contributes as taxes.

Such columnists often make my blood boil. These are well educated men and women who attended grammar schools as a result of selection, having passed the primary eleven-plus exams as children. Groomed never to get their hands dirty, they graduate at university with a degree, the academic passport to journalism, where a right wing newspaper makes a suitable forum for them to spout their views. For them, a £10 fee to visit a doctor is hardly a dent in their high income - it's quite a different matter for a single or low-earning parent who has a son or daughter who was born with an infirmity. Yet many of their readers, mostly high income earners, applaud these opinionated journalists as the answer to all the nation's problems. So the strategy in Parliament is to reduce welfare for those who are truly hard up, unable to find a job, or suffer incapacity - believed by the better-off that this is a good thing for the Economy - only to find that the cross-party Members of Parliament themselves have their snouts in the trough in claiming expenses funded by the taxpayer. Mortgage scandals seems to be the main bane, but their expense claim can cover anything. In short, denying benefit to the genuine needy while lavishing in very much the same kind of benefit themselves.

Now with a fresh scandal of one M.P. caught embroiled in paedophilia, a Tory one at that. All this makes me wonder - wow! What is it with mankind? Are we the endless product of a long, long process of evolution? And as one American psychiatrist, Arthur Koestler had suggested: somewhere in the final explosive stages of our evolution as Homo Sapiens, something went seriously wrong. Really, are we just primates, as biologists insist? Only trading our thick body hair for larger brains and greater intelligence? On the other hand, Dr. B. F. Skinner, another American psychiatrist in the 1960s, believed that man's behaviour had always been modelled on the surrounding environment. So the theory of Darwinism marches on, believed on by almost all academics and a large proportion of the public in general. Ah! that's why such a high level of aggression, competitiveness, and even national and racial superiority. After all, the further advanced in evolution, the higher up the social ladder towards the goal of becoming god.

This quest in our attempt in becoming god was recognised by a third American psychiatrist who lived and worked in the same period, Dr. Karl Menninger. He was the one who accused many church leaders at the time of lacking backbone when confronting their congregation with the reality of sin. Yet there is that rustling sound from the Bible like leaves rustling in the wind. At the dawn of history we read about how Eve was tempted by the serpent when he suggested taking a fruit from a particular tree, in order for her husband and herself to have their eyes opened, and to become gods, knowing good and evil. (Genesis 3:5, KJV.) This statement by itself seem to rebuke evolution. Rather, not only does this imply Divine Creation, but it is much closer to the desires and ambitions to the natural human heart. Let's face it, within every single one of us lies the desire to become a god, whatever form it takes.

But what wonderful good news I was reminded with when I read the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John. Here Jesus offered eternal life to all those who would simply believe. Eternal life with Christ for all believers! What a wonderful free gift of God this is. Jesus says that all who spiritually eat of his flesh and drink his blood has eternal life. And what I find so exciting is that I as a believer do not make a conscious effort to eat of his flesh and drink his blood in order to "stay saved" or attempt to get saved. Rather I eat of his flesh and drink of his blood as a result of already having received salvation. Another verse I found so encouraging is found in Luke 11:13, which reads:

If ye, being evil, know how to give good things unto your children: how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?

It is remarkably easy! Eternal life and the dwelling of the Holy Spirit - the third Person of the Trinity - available by the asking. More so, it is God's desire that all men everywhere repent, that is a change of mind to receive the salvation God offers. And all for free, as Jesus Christ had already paid the price for this great salvation by suffering and dying on a cross to atone for all our sins. Then receiving the Holy Spirit by the asking. It is so wonderful, a glorious demonstration of God's love for all mankind.

No, England does not need the World Cup, because in less than four years later, the trophy would have to be handed back to FIFA to be competed for all over again. But what this country needs, along with all the other nations of the world, is to renounce the brain-snatching lie of Darwinian evolution, and be willing and ready to receive a massive outpouring of the Holy Spirit through faith in Christ.

Now we have something, or rather someone, to really live for.