To Forgive is Good For Your Health.

My PhD-holder friend of mine, Andrew Milnthorpe, and I went for a walk into the beautiful South Hill Park, located just outside our rear garden gate. As we walked along, I said,

If throughout the whole of my life I had never seen a Bible, let alone ever reading one, nor had I ever heard the Gospel, but the only contact I ever had in that direction would be by means a typical English church...

"You still wouldn't know God," Andrew replied, cutting in without letting me finish.

I'll end up as an atheist, I concluded, finishing the sentence. But before you click off after reading such a negative statement, please read on, for once the bottom is reached, the only way to go is up.

It all reminds me of a jigsaw puzzle which was lent to me by a former customer. She had a stack of different puzzles all stashed away neatly in her cupboard, and she lent me several of them to help me pass the time of convalescence following a major cardiac procedure.

Among all the pieces of one particular jigsaw, there was one piece which kept turning up as I stirred through the rest in the construction of the picture. Finally, the 1,000-piece puzzle was complete, with every piece fitting together perfectly to make the overall image - except for that one piece, left remaining all by itself in the box.

However, this puzzle was one of the same series the owner had collected. That means that each of the original pictures was cut by the same factory machine, making all the pieces of each puzzle identical to each other. As such, the foreign piece would have fitted perfectly in place - except that the overall picture would have been spoiled, an odd colour right in the middle, defined by the foreign piece. 

When she gave me another puzzle, I have used all the pieces in the box, except that a hole in the middle of the picture would have spoiled the whole image. Fortunately, I had the foresight to leave the foreign piece in a safe place, and after retrieving it - voila! A complete picture with no colour oddity. 

The opening statement, negative as it might look, isn't from a mere philosophical preponderance or anything like that. Rather, this is borne out from personal experience, with the most shattering event occurring during February of 2005. But I'll come back to that shortly. 

Like any normal human, by joining a church (or a club or any other social meet) my instincts would be drawn to people of my own age range. The only snag was that it does look as if my unskilled or semi-skilled vocation, together with a failure record at school, along with the "ugly" fact that I had never seen the inside of a university, topped with a voice tone which seemed to convey a slow-thinker, like that foreign jigsaw piece, I was never able to blend in as well as I should - even if on a spiritual level I fitted into the church perfectly. 

Like in 1978 when a group of unmarried young people, all within my age range, decided to hire a boat for a week at the Norfolk Broads, a part of Eastern England which is very flat and crossed with canals. When I asked whether I could join them along with paying my share, I was told a resounding NO. Crushed in spirit, I made my way to a travel agent and booked a month's return flight to New York instead (I already had the multiple-entry US visa stamped in my passport from the previous year.) But that was not the point.

Rather, the point is the feeling of rejection. Rejected not because I didn't fit into the church. I fitted in well. No, the rejection came for having the wrong colours. For me, this was a psychological disaster which changed my perception of English churches forever. Yet I remained. Especially after returning from America, I was able to forgive them.

What was it about me which compelled them to reject me? And so I kept asking myself. Surely it couldn't have been just my background. Indeed, they were all graduates, and I wasn't one. It must be something more, but at the time I couldn't put my finger on it.

Then there was 1994. That was the year I offered myself to be a volunteer at a Christian Conference Centre, owned by the organisation Israel Trust of Anglican Churches, which also serves as a hotel. I wanted to spend a year volunteering there (I wasn't allowed to use the word work - to mean earning a taxable income - to Israel Immigration.) Whilst there, there was the weekly meeting of all "vollies" with the full-time staff members which makes up the management team.

By then, I have already felt the pangs of rejection by other vollies, and even by a couple of staff members. But at that morning meeting, I made a suggestion that we men should do the heavier maintenance work whilst the women were better with the domestics. Actually, the Director knew that I was right, and began to put my idea into practice, at least partially, so not to be too obvious.

The hatred, especially from the females, became almost unbearable. At the same time, there was with us, one tall and exceptionally good-looking graduate who was adored by the same women as well as by the other men. And going by their daily chatter within earshot, graduation was high on their agenda. A person's worth, especially a male, was evaluated by his level of education. And they made that quite clear. After just two months out of the twelve, I was dismissed from Stella Carmel C.C.C. by management after a stream of protests and complaints from the other vollies, but instead of being escorted directly to the airport as with all offenders, I was free to board a bus at Haifa for Jerusalem where I spent a whole month holed up in a secular backpacker's hostel, where I was much happier!

It was just two days before boarding the flight back to England from Tel Aviv Airport when I was standing on the summit of the Mount of Olives, looking over the beautiful and historic city of Jerusalem, when quite clearly, I felt God speaking to me. There and then he opened a door for another trip to the USA to take place in 1995, take-off from London Heathrow to New York exactly a year to the day later. And so it happened. And the spiritual therapy behind the Transatlantic trip? To forgive all those back in Israel for what they had done to me.

Alex, 18 weeks pregnant, at Stella Carmel, taken Oct 2000.

But the biggest and the most challenging bid to forgive was to a social worker I'll just name Wendy, whose career was already under threat by her supervisor. By then, up to February 2005, we were a family of four - two daughters, my wife and me. It was true that I found communicating with my daughters difficult at times, but that didn't excuse Wendy for being a sadistic bully in our own home, especially to Alex. One lunchtime, after further criticising my wife, I ordered her out of the house with a steely tone of voice. Two days later, under Wendy's orders and endorsed by the County Court, at three in the morning, a couple of police officers entered our house, rushed upstairs and took away our sleeping daughters, leaving my wife screaming hysterically. Our daughters were to be eventually adopted, with their surname changed to that of the new parents and their address kept secret from us. At least news of Wendy's dismissal from her post gave a very small crumb of comfort.

But it took months and months for my rage against her to cool. Until then, to forgive such a self-confessed atheist was beyond my capability. And Alex's too. I'm convinced that this deep resentment against this highly educated graduate and professional was directly connected to Alex's poor state of health, both with a neurotic disorder which has confined her to a wheelchair and with cancer, together with my own need for heart surgery.

It's known in the medical world that non-invasive diseases such as Arthritis, Colitis, Ulcers, Arteriosclerosis, Coronary Thrombosis, Ceberal Apoplexy, Psyconeurosis, Obesity and Diabetes, Back Pain, Muscle Pain, Headache, Heart Attack, Cancer, Toxic Goiter, and many more, are caused by negative emotions including fear, anger and unforgiveness.*

As one sermon delivered during Band of Brothers Christian men's meeting held one Saturday morning at the Kerith Centre, you forgive someone for your sake, and not for the offender's sake. One prime example is Wendy. She left us in a very bad state with us fuming in rage. This lasted for months. My lust for vengeance just could not be quelled, harbouring murderous visions in my head, and that despite that after her dismissal, she disappeared, never to be seen again. Yet my anger refuses to go away, and that I think this was because she got away very lightly and knowing that her vast education will land her another office job straight away. And so my rage continued until I thought about forgiveness and asked God how I can go about it.

That's where the Band of Brothers preach comes in. It was there when I felt God speaking to me, clearing up a confusion that to forgive someone, the offender must be present to receive the forgiveness. How untrue that is! The offender may not want forgiveness nor care about it. Yet I must forgive her, even in her absence, for my health's sake. And so I have, no longer allowing her nastiness to get the better of me.

But this still leaves me one issue going back long before days of Wendy. Why such rejection at Stella Carmel C.C.C. and further back in time at the old Baptist church? It was during our Parental Assessment course which followed the loss of our daughters which brought what I believe was the answer. According to a psychologist we both have Asperger's Syndrome, a form of Autism. Nowadays the term Asperger's is no longer used in the medical field, but Autism Spectrum, with us being on the thin end which does not affect our IQ.

But it does cause difficulty in communication and often obsessive interest in one or two particular topics. And it can also cause a sufferer difficulty in finding friends. Or at least that what they say. Therefore it could be said that all the rejection felt among Christians was down to having Asperger's. It looks as if the round peg fits the round hole until I came across one problem.

That is Andrew Milnthorpe, my intelligent friend who holds a PhD and who also has Asperger's. Yet, when he announced his graduation as a doctor on Facebook, many congratulated him. These including congratulations from the very same people who sidestepped me, refusing me to go with them on the boat trip and also refusing to pair with me on the Facebook friendship panel. With less than 140 friends I have, Andrew currently has 611. In short, if all those who think lowly of me and even patronise at the first opportunity due to having Asperger's, then why is Andrew, who also has Asperger's, so far more popular among them? Could it be - heaven forbid - could it be that Andrew is far higher educated? Come on! Did Jesus and his apostles really endorse this form of favouritism?

Or another answer could be highlighted by a BBC documentary we both watched earlier in the week, Ian Hislop's Stiff Upper Lip. Suddenly everything seems to fall into place! Andrew is better at controlling his emotions than I am. It's all about being British.

And that is so tragic! Should favouritism be allowed to exist and to flourish as a means of promoting Britishness in a church environment? No wonder. Had it not been for the grace of God, or that I haven't gotten a Bible immediately after conversion and began to read it, had it not been the presence of the Holy Spirit within, who knows, I might have walked away from such an environment as an atheist.

But to finish off, I have a genuine love for all those at my home church, Ascot Life. And how I long for this lockdown to end so we can all meet together again. It's something to look forward to.

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*S. I. McMillen MD, None Of These Diseases, 1980, Lakeland Publishers (UK) 

Lock-down Delusion?

He was homeless. And lonely. Very lonely, in fact. Furthermore, he felt that he was afraid of being mugged, even stabbed. Therefore, unable to sleep, he kept himself on the move, wandering from one place to another, constantly glancing behind to see whether he was followed.

He was also very hungry and thirsty. Eventually, he gives up. He lays down on the ground, feeling very suicidal. "To hell with life," he thought. "Let someone come and kill me. Or maybe, if I were to fall asleep here, I may not wake up again. I don't care anymore. I had enough!"

That was around 842 BC.

Elijah journeyed through the desert for forty days, or just short of six weeks. Yet he was supernaturally supplied with the appropriate food and drink, more than once. Yet despite such care taken of his welfare, he maintained a twisted cord of emotions: Loneliness, along with fear, and anger has driven this fellow to a remote mountain where he met God, and after throwing out a plethora of complaints, protesting that he is the only faithful one left throughout the whole of Israel, God eventually got around to saying that he has reserved for himself seven thousand men who had not bowed the knee to Baal (1Kings 19.)

Maybe such a revelation might have been encouraging for him. Then again, he might have also thought to himself: If there were seven thousand godly men in Israel alone, apart from any in Judah, then why has none of them made any effort to come and offer me food, drink and shelter, hidden and protected from my enemies?

I think that having such thoughts would be perfectly human. For throughout the forty-day journey, he was running away from Queen Jezebel, the dominant wife of King Ahab and who also wore the trousers. He was fleeing from her after performing a spectacular showdown against 450 prophets of Baal, Jezebel's idol, and not only putting them to shame but having them all executed.

Were these 7,000 godly men converts of Elijah's spectacular showdown? Probably not, for the Scripture indicates that they had already chosen to stay faithful to Yahweh, the true God of Israel since childhood, having never bowed their knee to Baal throughout their lives. Those who witnessed the contest between Yahweh and Baal might have been impressed with Elijah's spectacular victory, but for some, it doesn't necessarily depict true and lasting conversion. Left unconverted, the temptation to return to Baal worship becomes irresistible.

So there he was, feeling lonely, and suicidal. And this also makes me wonder how many were tempted to feel that way during this present Coronavirus lockdown? At least there were some parts of it which seems beneficial. Emptier roads for starters, resulting in cleaner air and a slowdown of climate change. Office employees working from home instead of the daily commute, whether by private or public transport. Still others on furlough, remaining employed by the business which was forced to close for the duration of the pandemic, resulting in a long paid "holiday" for its workers.

By the grace of God, I didn't find this lockdown financially difficult, due to being on State pension. Fortunately, I was not under compulsion to stay at home, as was the case, I believe, in Spain and Italy. Instead, I was still free to go out and exercise once a day, either walking or cycling. 

With both swimming and the gym locked away, so to speak, with walking, I have enjoyed the wonderful privilege of admiring Rhododendron bushes in full bloom, the magenta flowers glowing in the Spring sunshine. Funny, really. These species were originally imported from China and has established themselves well here. Yet there are many gardeners, environmentalists and perhaps horticulturalists who have taken a dislike to this bush, seeing it as a foreign invasion, and there was even a faceless bureaucrat sitting at the Council office of Bracknell Forest who had sent out an order to have much of the Rhododendron at the back of one street destroyed, thus removing the sound barrier between the busy traffic and the homes of many residents and leaving an ugly scar on the landscape. 

Rhododendron in full bloom near my home, taken May 2020.

Cycling is another form of exercise taken during the lockdown. These days it takes more of an effort to ride a bike long-distance, as a couple of other cyclists overtook me by quite a wide speed margin. Perhaps my age and state of health combined with the solar heat taking it out on me, yet there is that lovely feeling of accomplishment as I rode to Dinton Pastures, a country park some nine miles away from home, with its beautiful Black Swan Lake, dotted with forested islands and surrounded by a bridleway cutting through a forested environment lining both sides, thus combining the day out with both cycling and walking.

But there is the detrimental side to the lockdown, and that's how much I miss the church! At Ascot Life Church, along with all other churches in the UK, we now have "virtual services". This means that instead of being in the physical company among brothers and sisters in Christ, there is this figure speaking from the screen of my laptop. Although I can see him and hear him, all he is doing is looking into and speaking to a camera. He has no idea who is in the audience, and each member of the audience have no idea who else is watching - unless comments are posted, which scrolls up alongside the picture. But even then, we as an audience or congregation can't intercommunicate with each other.

As such, a virtual service is a very poor substitute for the real thing. There is no sense of love, no fellowship, no intimacy, no hugging, no greeting, no private news shared personally between members, and most importantly, no coffee & doughnuts! But at least the preach comes over well, and this has caused me to wonder whether the High Speed 2 railway project is already obsolete even before the very first track length is laid, as the purpose of the project is to whisk executives to their conferences as quick as possible. Has the use of computers made this HS2 a white elephant for the national economy? After all, we now have this Zoom app, which delivers pseudo-fellowship communication among partakers.

This also means that no one in my church can meet up over coffee. This used to be a favourite activity, for someone in the church, especially one of the Elders, to meet up at Starbucks. Here, we can advise each other, as I can give advice as well as receive it. Such meetings were very useful during times of crisis, like at the present when my beloved develops a toothache, just as the lockdown has closed every dental surgery in town. Like this, moral and spiritual support is compromised, as the telephone or Zoom could never replace the person-to-person counsel and intimacy which arises from it. Hence the lockdown has given me a sense of isolation, the feeling of remoteness, which even surrounded by talking pictures, fail to meet what Jesus Christ had in mind when he established His Body here on earth.

And this "social distancing." That means when I approach an oncoming pedestrian whilst on the footpath, we both alter our courses to ensure neither of us passes within two metres of each other, although to compensate, we often greet each other with a "hi" or even with the thumb up. It's as if every person not with the household is some kind of abomination. Go too near and you will die. 

And the economy under dire threat. According to the Press, this national lockdown is the end result of advice delivered to our Government by one bureaucrat, Neil Ferguson of Imperial College, who warned that the UK death rate of 250,000 or more could occur unless the Government imposed a total lockdown. The likelihood of this being true scientific modelling by Imperial College is questioned by the previous modelling of the BSE crisis of 2002 as standing with an estimated 150,000 deaths in Britain. The actual number of deaths from CMJ, a related disease in humans, stood at less than 200 overall.*

It's from such sources such as the Imperial College where our ministers had taken fright and have put our national economy into a coma, from which it may not fully recover. Therefore it's meant to be this weekend when our Prime Minister will begin his "slow, steady lifting" of the lockdown. This includes some gardening centres re-opening, allowing picnics in parks, exercising outdoors more than once a day, and a bubble of family members and friends of no more than ten persons are allowed to come together. 

But there be no church meetings, no pubs, no coffee bars or restaurants, no leisure centres, and social distancing still enforced. As Dr John Lee has written, Boris Johnson lacks the courage to kick-start the economy to its pre-pandemic level, lest a second, more severe wave of infection was to occur. Also, according to this doctor who is an expert in pathogenicity, believes that if the virus were to infect more people, (with the vast majority suffering only minor symptoms) it would have to mutate to a less harmful form to preserve itself. Therefore he suggests that younger people should return to work and to live normal lives whilst at the same time the elderly and the vulnerable should be given adequate protection. 

Our PM lacking courage? That's not the same man who promised a golden age of national prosperity for all of us after leaving the EU, is he?

My good friend, PhD holder and geneticist Andrew Milnthorpe have always been sceptical about the lockdown, and he said to me that such action was way over the top. At first, I was taken back by what he had said, surprised at his apparent apathy for the spread of the virus. But since then, two journalists had both written that this national lockdown was a farce and the average Briton should not tremble with fear over the daily reporting of the number of deaths. One of these writers was Dr John Lee, who wrote in the Saturday Essay page of the Daily Mail. The other writer was Peter Hitchens. As the Bible says, when two or three agree, then the evidence is more likely to be factual.

Black Swan Lake, Dinton Pastures. Stock photo.

Maybe this lockdown had just one other benefit. It might have caused more people to think about God. I have heard a report that more people have gotten into prayer as a result of this pandemic. If this was such a good opportunity for the Gospel to be heralded, this is it. If churches such as Ascot Life Church, the Kerith Community Church, and other churches advertise their virtual service on to social websites, chances that more people may tune in, for it's much easier to go online at home than it is to bother driving to the church building full of strangers.

Despite all it's setbacks, God can work through the lockdown, as nothing is impossible with God.

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*Dr John Lee, Daily Mail Newspaper, Saturday, May 9, 2020.

An Astonishing Contrast?

Put two men together and anything can happen, whether in the world of politics, sport, comedy, starting and running a business or even on theological issues. Comedy? Much of that form of entertainment have thrived on just putting two men together in front of the camera. Steptoe and Son, Morecambe and Wise, Only Fools and Horses, even Till Death Us Do Part (rivalry between father and son-in-law). Talking about Steptoe and Son, based on an elderly widowed father, owner of a rag-and-bone business which was prevalent in the early half of the 20th Century, with his only son who remains unmarried well into adulthood. 

In one episode, Albert Steptoe, the father, had to mind his manners when his son Harold had a new luxury double bed installed in readiness to bring home his girlfriend, to whom he was trying hard to keep up a good impression. However, this bed was unique. Instead of the normal springs with straw, hair or cotton filling, Harold's brand-new mattress is the new-fangled type which is filled with water. During the son's absence and in an act of clumsiness, the father accidentally stabs the mattress with a dagger, creating a surface pool. Frantically, he attempts to patch up the damage and ensures that the water bed was well made and ready for use before the son returns home.

Of course, later that night as expected, there was pandemonium as soon as the couple got into bed! The patch was unable to hold the water in, and the combined weight of the two bodies upon the water pressure causes a fountain or geyser to erupt from the gash under the bedclothes. No doubt, the maiden was unimpressed as the raging son ended up chasing his father out of the house.

Harold Steptoe and his Dad, Albert, 1960s Comedy Hit.

It's little wonder that British comedy remains unrivalled as it's exported to be broadcast worldwide. But even with this, imagine another two men elsewhere, each in their own homes, who both have watched the same show on television. One roars with laughter, while the other thanks God for allowing the sin of fornication to be averted, even in a funny way, but still frowns over the son's lack of respect in not giving proper honour to his father. For the latter viewer, the fact that father and son were roles both played by Wilfred Brambell and Harry Corbett respectively after a long series of takes and retakes under a signed contract, yet still fail to wash. Let's face it, I for one would feel far more comfortable in the presence of the first viewer rather than with the second one. Indeed, both viewers watched the same comedy, yet each went away with a different and contrasting perspective.

And I write this after two rather contrasting sermons, yet on the same theme, both occurring only last Sunday. Amazing enough, both preachers bore the name Simon, who I will call Simon A and Simon B. And I must emphasise here, both spoke the truth from the Bible. Both were right in what they had to say, but my emotional reaction to each one was different.

It was one of those rare Sundays when Storm Ciara hit the UK and the galeforce winds and driving rain kept me at home, deterred from the weekly four-mile cycle ride from home to church, and another same-distance ride back home. Therefore, instead, I listened to the recorded video of the preach by Simon A - twice. His text was taken from Romans 9, especially from verse 15:

I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.

Is this unfair? Does God prefer some people above others? Does God love some people but not others? Indeed, how does God feel about me? Does he even love another Christian more than he loves me? Surely, I know better than to ask such questions after nearly fifty years of Bible study! Then Simon A gives the analogy from Genesis which concerns the family of Isaac, Abraham's son. This fellow himself had two sons, twins actually. The firstborn was Esau, and Jacob was born soon afterwards. Yet, even before their births, God himself assured their mother, Rebekah, that the older will serve the younger. Jacob was the son of the Promise rather than his older brother.

Then this verse:

Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated. Romans 9:13.

Did God really hate Esau? How would a newly-converted Christian take to this? Or an interested inquirer? God actually hating Esau? And how would this go down with readers who are new to the Bible? My own experience bears this out. When I was a newly-converted Christian back in 1974, in church, I sat next to another young fellow who was greatly distressed by this verse, and he cried out for me to help him. With my knowledge of Scripture still in its fledgeling stage, I tried to explain what I thought, (over 46 years, I can't remember what I actually said to him) and he came around, feeling greatly relieved. He finally realised that God indeed loves him dearly.

The quote which Paul used in Romans was taken from Malachi 1:2-3, which is the last book of the Old Testament. Going by verse three, it becomes obvious that the quote was referring to Esau's descendants, the nation of Edom. Also, in the shortest book of the Old Testament, Obadiah, God's displeasure in Edom is well explained. This nation gloated over the fate of Israel and Judah as they were taken into captivity, and rejoiced over their demise, while they, the Edomites, held their heads up in pride. Yet God must have still loved them, after all, they're still people made in His own image.

A Crowd at a Concert. Does God love them all?

This is demonstrated by a rather obscure yet wonderful promise that Edom, along with her sister-nations Moab and Ammon, will be delivered from all oppression towards the end of history, according to Daniel 11:41. Since all this is still future from today's time frame, descendants from these three nations must have existed alongside us right up to this day and will continue to exist. This is far from the hatred by God enforced by national annihilation. Rather, Christ died for them too.

Simon A admits that this election process looks to be so unfair, with smacks of hyper-Calvinism. Although true Biblically, I still cannot deny that throughout the day I felt ill-at-ease. God choosing who to save, allowing the rest to remain in rebellion against him as they all rush towards a lost eternity. When I consider all the Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, along with all cult members - Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons, etc, along with many nominal Roman Catholics, non-committed Anglicans, etc, not to say agnostics, atheists, and so on and on, families with small children, the victims of Third World war and starvation, little children dying of illness in their mother's arms - this idea of Elective Salvation, which is the main feature of Hyper-Calvinism, without the other side of the issue, just does not sit well with me.

It's indeed easy to say that we're all sinners and therefore God's Elect is in itself an act of mercy. Yes, that is true. We all fall short of the glory of God and there is no one alive who has never sinned, for without his grace we all stand condemned. But to translate this to day-to-day living is, well, not quite so easy! Especially in consideration of all the staff working in the NHS, who has, out of compassion, have made great efforts in preserving our lives as husband and wife, Alex's from breast cancer which otherwise would have been fatal, and me from a possible fatal cardiac failure.

Instead, I watch a Muslim youth die of illness or shot dead in battle, or a Hindu infant die of malnutrition whilst in the arms of his weeping mother, and at the same time watch a well-educated, middle-class English Christian pursue his career with astonishing success while raising his family to the point when their children, who are also Christians, reach college age. Not to mention a nice house and garden and a front driveway on which two, maybe three, cars remain parked, itself a symbol of prosperity.

A group of Christian students from a nearby university pose together for Facebook dressed in dinner jackets, tails and bow ties, whilst down the road, a member of a drug gang is fatally stabbed. Even within the church, any church, a graduate will always be the preferred one to preach from the front, although indeed, there are exceptions now and again. One Christian man prays for England to win the World Cup while an unbeliever languishes in jail, contemplating suicide.

Elective salvation. It looks to me living here in England that God has a preference for middle-class, well-educated candidates.

Thank goodness that's not true at all!

Because there is the other side to elective salvation argument, the truth that the light of Jesus Christ shining into the heart of everyone born into the world, according to John 1:4, 9. Paul endorses this truth by insisting that although these unbelievers knew God, they did not glorify him nor give him thanks, because they continue to push away the truth despite that his existence is revealed through his entire creation, thus with everything he has made, the light of his existence still reside in the unbeliever's heart, Romans 1:18-23.

Thus, the other side of Simon A's argument is that salvation is open to everybody. Thus he is patient, not willing for anyone to perish but for all to come to repentance, because God now calls all men everywhere to repent, that is to change their minds concerning Jesus of Nazareth being the Christ, as demonstrated by rising physically from the dead.

And so, after not turning up at Ascot Life Church because of the storm, I message my friend Andrew Milnthorpe to ask him whether he'll be at the Kerith Community Church that evening, so I can join him in worship and listen to what Simon B has to say in his preach.

His theme was about God's love amid failure. He reminds us that everyone experience failure in one way or another, but the reality of God's love shining like the sun on a clear day is just the tonic needed to get through the peaks and troughs of life. This got me thinking of the medics who has treated both of us and their commitment to keeping the treatment ongoing. The revealing of God's love, yes even to them, as God so loved the world, not just his elect.

It's the universal love of God which motivates me to give towards those in need whenever I feel it's right, to have hope when the chips are down, for my beloved to attend radiotherapy sessions twenty miles away every day for three weeks. It's the universal love of God for all men which makes the world much brighter, less judgemental, less hostile despite the present political upheaval here in the UK and elsewhere. Faith, Love and Hope is in a way a trinity of lovers, each of the three virtues walking arm-in-arm, blessing the good in this fallen world and a reflection of God's character.

Kerith Community Church, Bracknell.

Simon B's preach is the answer to Simon A's sermon that same morning. It does not contradict each other, rather they are complementary. While the first, although true, got me to do some thinking, the second was needed, and it came just at the right time, to put everything in proper perspective. I left the Kerith Centre edified and in a better mood.

As for Albert and Harold Steptoe, indeed, one has a choice - either to judge their sinful behaviour, especially in bringing a girlfriend in for the night, or recognise all this as acting by paid actors who signed a contract with the broadcasters to make us laugh.