Why Laugh at Creationists?

Browsing the Internet can be an interesting experience whenever something totally unexpected comes up on the YouTube dashboard. Such is the title of a whole series of videos bearing the one title, Why do people laugh at Creationists? 

Laugh at Creationists? That's new! I thought we Creationists are ignored. Like good old Alfred Wegener. This son of a clergyman theorised that rather than remaining permanently fixed, the continents of our globe are on the move. Yet he was totally ignored by all the geologists of his day. Moving continents? How ridiculous could he get? He was ignored, maybe even laughed at. That was because Wegener was not a geologist, but a meteorologist who had an interest in geology from an amateur's perspective. According to contemporary geologists, anyone who is not in their profession should not stick his oar in. It took quite a bit of persuasion and thorough research before realising that Plate Tectonics is to accepted as valid science.

Or the case of one young doctor who, in the 1840s, was put in charge of a maternity ward at one of the top teaching hospitals in Vienna, Allegemeine Krakenaus. Here, this medic was very disturbed by the rate of mortality taking place on a regular basis - one out of every six women died, as was the case of all other hospitals of the day. Then this doctor, Ignaz Semmelweis by name, believed that some invisible agent or element was passed around from patient to patient.*

He thought up the idea that after each patient was examined, whether it was an autopsy carried out on a dead patient or checking out a living patient, the medic must wash his hands before examining the next patient. Immediately, the death rate dropped significantly from one out of every six to one out of 84.

But poor Semmelweis didn't get the praise he so richly deserved. Instead, it was scorned and belittled by lazy and prejudiced colleagues and jealous superiors. Perhaps they believed that Semmelweis had some supernatural power or that there is something magic about this constant washing, washing, washing which does not tie with science. Had he wrote and published a book on his discoveries, chances were that such a book wouldn't sell well, if at all, in the medical profession. After all, invisible element? Mythology has no place in the hard realities of science.

After such hostile treatment, Semmelweis lost his contract, and after watching the mortality rate rise again, he lost his mind and he was committed to an institution where he ended his days with a mental breakdown. Who would have ever thought that with the linking of bacteria, discovered in mould growth as early as 1676, with infection and disease could be the cause of such a high mortality rate? And Alfred Wegener, who was also ignored by his contemporaries, such life was not made easy for him either. What a ridiculous theory, this nonsense of moving continents!

Going back to YouTube. As already mentioned, there is a whole series of videos, looking to be as many as 45 of them altogether, themed Why do people laugh at Creationists? Checking the author's stats, at this time of writing, he has 276,621,362 views and 960,000 subscribers, his field also covers a much wider range of topics including his support for the UK to remain in the European Union. 

Indeed, his first video featured a student who used three false arguments to support his view of favouring Creationism. One was that the spherical orbit of the Earth around the Sun was within the Goldilocks zone, the second was that the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River was cut in just five minutes, and his third argument was that water is unique to our planet only, and does not exist elsewhere. As such, together with Flat-Earthers, we Creationists deserve to be laughed at. But on a more serious note, if I were to write a paper supporting Divine Creation which would satisfy the demands of Creation Research, then submit the paper to a team of secular scientists, one or two might give some time to answer, the rest would just ignore it altogether.

It was the student's "Grand Canyon in five minutes" theory which caught my attention and decided to answer in the comment forum. But it was not only to "prove myself" but also use this opportunity to confess my allegiance with Creationism, just as I would freely confess Jesus Christ as my Saviour. No matter, this video alone has 2,508,131 views. Therefore, I felt it was worth giving it a go if Creationism is to gain any creditability.

How wonderful it is for YouTube to allow quite a large margin to comment without being cut off. Because I had quite a bit to say. 

Firstly, I explained that the Earth's orbit around the Sun is not spherical at all, but follows the edge of a slightly elliptical plane, with the Sun not quite at the centre. Therefore, where one side of the orbit is at the Perihelion, that is, nearer to the Sun, it's winter in the UK and summer in Australia. At the other side of the orbit, known as the Aphelion, our planet is further away from the Sun during the UK summer. 

Whether this is a work of a Designer or just mere chance, I left for them to decide. But since the Southern hemisphere is mostly ocean which takes longer to warm up than the landmasses of the Northern hemisphere, if this slight eccentricity did not exist and the orbit was perfectly circular, then it's likely that much of the Southern hemisphere would be covered with a permanent ice sheet, very much like the one which covered the Northern hemisphere during the Ice Age. This could have a big impact on the existence of life, particularly with the oxygen output from the oceans.

Then, together with my hikes into the Grand Canyon and thus, my observation of the rock strata resting comfortably on granite bedrock, I concluded that these layers of limestone and sandstone were laid down by the waters of a long-gone ocean, and put forward the idea of the Noachian Flood, along with the theory that the Canyon was cut in months, possibly years, as the floodwaters drained off the rising continent, and not in five minutes. As for extraterrestrial waters, I reminded the student that since boyhood, I was aware of frozen water polar ice caps on Mars and elsewhere, and after conversion, hadn't changed my mind on this.

At the Grand Canyon, 1995.

Then about three weeks later someone contributed, asking me how vast limestones rock layers form, considering that limestone is formed out of calcite, a material gotten from the shells of marine life, if not taking millions, or even billions of years to accumulate into such rock layers.

Here I have always found this to be a problem, to be honest. Here in England, one particular type of limestone, chalk, is very common here. This stone makes up the rolling hillsides and downs of, for example, the Chilterns, the South Downs, the White Cliffs of Dover, and the rolling coastal hills which includes Ballard Down in Dorset and the Isle of Wight. I have always thought that during antediluvian days, the oceans must have had a tremendously vast population of such marine life to form such landscapes. Not forgetting the chalk seabed under the English Channel which makes the cutting and maintenance of the Channel Tunnel viable. And I haven't even included hard limestones such as Portland Stone, often used for construction.

How much easier it must be to assume such huge formations must take multiple millions of years for such rock layers to build up than for it to rapidly form under the intense pressure of a fast-moving global flood. But a Flood-based origin I'm willing to accept, whichever way it happened. To believe in the historicity of the Bible does involve swimming hard against the current of Charles Lyell's uniformitarian geology and Darwin's organic evolution which remains universally acceptable.

I'm one of a small number of Creationists who is willing to stick my neck out. Indeed, I might just be ignored, teased, laughed at, or to be made to look ridiculous but to be honest, I'll rather be a fool for the glory of God than be wise in the eyes of the world. Even in my own church, I'm not taken as seriously as a brother who is a graduate, especially in the realm of leadership or even delivering a preach. Or maybe there is this train of thinking going around among those who know me well - the "he's not capable" or "I don't think he can do that" or "I doubt he'll be successful". The reason for this is straightforward. I don't come across as one who is articulate or well educated. Fair enough.

But "in Christ, I can do all things" (Philippians 4:13.) Yea, I hold on to that. One example of this occurred back in 1980. Just a year before I was made redundant as a semi-skilled machinist in an aircraft factory (British Aircraft Corporation, which was later renamed British Aerospace) and I had trouble looking for suitable work until someone suggested going self-employed. Indeed, one or two of the Elders did not believe I could manage that, but I went ahead anyway and formed my own window-cleaning business. Yes, it was difficult at first. I struggled to make ends meet. I upset a few of my clientele. I was on the verge of throwing in the towel. I even applied for another job. When I didn't get that job and instead returned to my business, I decided to keep on persevering.

Eventually, it paid off. Throughout those 35 years, I managed to make enough not only to live reasonably well, but I was able to save up for travel. Flying to destinations such as to Israel in 1993, and then to New York in 1995 to backpack across the USA to Los Angeles, and then in less than two years later, to fly to Singapore, and then onward to Cairns in Queensland, then after backpacking the Pacific Coast with its glorious Great Barrier Reef, on to Sydney, then from there direct to Los Angeles, before returning to London on a Round-the-World experience in 1997. It was those glorious days, the explosive climax of my bachelorhood before I met and married Alex. Those days when I didn't claim a penny in benefit or low-income allowances. It pays to persevere against the odds and not throw it all in.

Another area where starting up was difficult and discouraging, and it's writing for this Blogger page! Indeed, at first, viewer numbers remained low, and it was very discouraging to see all other bloggers captivating readers by the thousands while I only picked up around 20-30 each week. Indeed, I thought, what's the use? I was even tempted to throw in the towel in this area too. After all, I'm a labourer who failed at school. Who am I, pretending to be someone I'm not?

Yet I enjoy writing, and I have always enjoyed writing since boyhood. Later, the advance of the Internet has open doors which before I could only dream about. Therefore, something of addiction grew within, until every Saturday afternoon is Blogging day. As for readership, at this moment of writing, I have more than 150,000 views. This I consider this to be a respectable number and its growing by the hundreds each week.

And now I have launched into something very new. It began while I was sitting at a Costa Coffee bar in Bracknell Town Centre with a croissant and a cappuccino coffee. There, I thought about opening a YouTube account and making videos of easy walks which older people would appreciate. And so, at Bournemouth and Swanage, I shot my first two videos. When they came out, I knew that I have a lot to learn! My camera was shaking, I got my fingers in front of the lens, I breathed heavily after climbing a hill, and maybe the video was rather monotonous, filming the same scene all the time. To a professional, these were rubbish and I knew it. But I still published them to see what happens.

The exact camera I use for YouTube Videos

Lessons learned from the past taught me not to throw in the towel. If I fail, I fail. If absolutely nobody clicks onto my channel, well, at least I gave it a go! I've tried it. Indeed, right now I can visualise with clarity all my church Elders and brothers shaking their heads in their plea to give it up now to save myself from getting hurt. This was the discouragement I have received from other church members for many years. 

But no, instead, I will carry on making videos and publish them. And as I make each one, I learn from my mistakes. And with learning and experience, real enjoyment will also bud and blossom into a beautiful flower.

Perseverance is hard. It's difficult. It can get very discouraging. But eventually, it can pay off. The same goes with my conviction that Divine Creation as recorded in Genesis will eventually pay off, despite being ignored or laughed at present. My vindication will await me in Heaven. 

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

A Future Chat With the Pharmacist.

Alex looked concerned as she checked her prescription supply.

Alex: Sweetheart, can you pop down to the surgery and order another supply of Diazepam and Baclofen?

Frank: Okay no problem. As a matter of fact, my Warfarin is running low too. I have only four day's supply left. It's time to top up. How much do you still have left?

Alex: (counting) I would say four or five days.

Frank: Okay. I'll be back shortly.

As I walk merrily down the tree-lined path into the woods which makes up a corner of South Hill Park, I ponder on how fortunate as a nation to have the National Health Service. Being a short walk, I decided to leave the bicycle behind. By walking, I can look around our unspoilt environment and thank the Lord for his sustained Creation, as well as thanking him for allowing me to see another day in human history.

I approach our local NHS surgery. Ordering prescribed medicine is a simple task. Just tick the boxes printed next to each drug listed on the form, which came with the last prescription, and then to post it through into the renewal box fixed for the purpose next to the Prescription Enquiries window.

As I approached, I began to feel alarmed at the empty car park, which was never free from the four or five cars which were parked there during office hours. As I approached the main entrance, I was suddenly paralysed with shock! I continued to stare at the notice fixed to the glass-panelled door from the inside, which read:
DUE TO PRESENT CIRCUMSTANCES, THIS SURGERY WILL REMAIN CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

Further notice? What "Further notice?" It could be just for a few hours or days. But equally, it could be for weeks, months, years.

I was gripped by cold, naked fear. I broke into a cold sweat and even felt my long hair attempting to stand on end. How on earth are we to renew our prescriptions? Especially with my wife's Diazepam? With her neurotic disorder, without this vital drug, she can go into involuntary fits of muscle spasm, a convulsion of her body which cannot be controlled by the conscious mind. Her daily dose of the medicine keeps her from having such fits and therefore able to lead a normal life.

Quickly and panic-stricken, I make my way to the Drugstore, just less than 150 metres from the surgery. I then asked the Pharmacist what's on earth is going on. She then explained the current crisis of the NHS. Ever since the Tories had regained power at 10 Downing Street back in December of 2019, as well as leaving the European Union soon afterwards, there has first been a trickle of staff deserting the NHS, followed by a flood of those leaving to return to their home countries. She also explained that a large proportion of the Doctors, Consultants and Nurses were from Europe and India, the latter renowned for its children's ambition to qualify as Doctors through dedication to study hard at school and college, without such distractions such as television, play stations, football team support or pop music.

What? I asked. Isn't there a gene pool right here in England for training qualified NHS staff?

Not according to statistics, was her reply. But equally distressing, according to this Pharmacist, was the strangulation of medical supplies, especially from Europe, where a large proportion is made and shipped. Being outside the European Union, such supplies have now to pass through custom and tariff legislation. With such shipping held up and delayed, along with border tariffs, the price of medicine had to rise.

I responded that I'm not too worried about that, for Alex has a pre-paid certificate and since I'm over 65, I qualify for Senior Citizen's State-funded medical supply.

The Pharmacist gave me a rather drawn-out look, then reassured me that she now has the authority to sign for the medicine in place of the Doctor. What a huge relief! When I told her that we need our prescription renewed right away, she took the forms from me and with her fellow staff members, proceeded to prepare the medicines which we both require. About twenty minutes later she appeared holding two packets.

Disturbingly, she began to jab at her calculator.

That will be ninety pounds, please.

WHA-A-A-T!!! I cried. My wife has a pre-paid Certificate and I'm a pensioner. What's going on?

Pharmacist: You should know by now that since recently, the NHS had imploded on itself, it no longer exists. With that, pre-paid certificates are now invalid and every senior citizen has to pay now as well. Look, you asked for three packets of Warfarin, one of Losartan, one of Spironolactone, one of Bisoprolol, and one of Bumetanide. At ten pounds each, that would be seventy pounds. Then your wife wanted Diazepam and Baclofen, adding a further twenty pounds. That totals ninety.

Frank: My wife did not ask for Antidepressants, Oramorph, Co-Codamol, Senna or Laxido, at least not this time. If she had, then the whole shenanigan would cost us both 140 pounds! That's more than the 110 pounds she spent to buy her pre-paid certificate valid for a whole year. 

Pharmacist: I'm very sorry things turned out this way. But our NHS has been on its breaking point for the last several years. Sooner or later something had to give. Hence the closure of all our GP surgeries.

As I left the Drugstore feeling crushed and out of pocket, I was wondering how on earth are we going to manage all this. Fortunately, my Pension income is healthy, we should be able to pull through - just, without the need to tighten our belts too much, although it may mean saying goodbye to taking breaks away, whether it's in the UK or abroad. Or as long as we don't fall ill in need of hospitalisation. Just by calling 999 may itself cost us more than a hundred pounds.

On the walk home, I decided to take a longer route, so I can mull on my thoughts.

"Fear coursing through my whole being. Fear? That's an understatement. It was more like terror - frightened of the future. I guess it goes back to December 2019, the month of our last election. Boris Johnson leading the Conservative Party back into power, hence a majority Government back into Parliament. His new Cabinet also included Jacob Rees-Mogg as Chancellor and Nigel Farage as Health Minister.

"Nigel Farage, the leader of the Brexit Party? Once, yes. But not any more. The Press, especially the Daily Mail newspaper, advised his followers not to vote for a Brexit Party candidate, in case the Brexit issue was split and divided enough to let Jeremy Corbyn's Labour Party into power. The result was that the Brexit Party polled so badly - it folded up, leaving its leader to reconcile himself with Johnson and joined the Tories. The Prime Minister saw Farage as a fit enough candidate for Health Secretary.

"How the Media had demonised Jeremy Corbyn! Nicknamed Jezza by the Daily Mail, his "extreme left-wing" manifesto was reputed to have terrified the middle-classes and the high earners into paying higher taxes. By contrast, the newspapers poured endless praise on the Tory Party. With the promise of "getting Brexit done" along for lower taxes for higher earners, Johnson also promised to pour "billions" into the NHS - but following Brexit, there has been a rapid rise of racial and xenophobic threats, with white, English patients throwing insults at foreign Consultants and Nurses, causing them to leave their profession to return to their home countries, along with being bogged down with the catch 22 situation. The more hours they put in, the more taxes they pay and their pension savings robbed.

"I wonder whether I must take a share of the blame. I did not vote for Corbyn's Labour Party in the last election and it was not because I was opposed to some of his principles, but because of his antisemitic stance, or at least reputed to favour the Arabs, including the Hamas, above the Jews. I can't be dogmatic about this, but if true, then I'm convinced that his lack of popularity with the electorate was spawned by his disregard for the Jews and for Israel's right to exist. It seems so ironic. Antisemitism was always the dogma for the far-right. Therefore what was it doing lurking among the Left? Especially when British political history has demonstrated that the Jews were always favoured by Labour, and in all past elections, the Jewish community had played a vital role in putting Labour into power. By contrast, for a long time, the Conservatives had a level of contempt for the Jewish community, and thus, failed to win their vote."

As I kept on walking, the Hilton Hotel came into view, giving me more time to keep pondering.

"As for this present Tory Government, their policy to restrict immigration to a points system which allowed only the most skilled workers into the UK has made me ponder: Does our PM really favour the better educated? Does he want only the professional to enter the UK permanently? Therefore for the plebs to stay out, they're not wanted? Hmm. This seems to have a smattering of eugenics. And what a surprise! Eugenics had its origins here, right here in England, of all places, and by two white, well-educated Englishmen - Charles Darwin and Francis Galton, Darwin's cousin.

Charles Darwin, the real father of eugenics.

"And the return of Dickensian England, so it seems. Charles Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol, a book which featured the young son of a poor family who was left to die of a curable illness while those who were wealthy enough to pay for treatment received it. As the family stood around the grave, watching their son's small coffin being lowered into the ground, who would ever think that it will be a Labour Prime Minister, Clement Atlee, would dream up the NHS centuries later. But by then, for that family, it's a little too late."

I pause to look around as I drew close to my home. Almost there.

"Perhaps it didn't take much of an imagination for Darwin to dream up his evolutionary theories or for his cousin to invent the idea of eugenics. Really, eugenics was already in action for centuries earlier - of some sort. Instead of Hitler's henchmen using it to usher in the Holocaust, it was Mammon which decided who was fit enough to survive, and those who were unfit (that is, the poor) who were left to die of illness. However, this was not Evolution - the development of higher organisms over generations - but man-made Natural Selection through wealth, the elimination of the weak."

I arrived home, dumped the medicine on a nearby table and told my beloved everything that has happened. Then I broke down into tears and wept copiously. While in her arms, she encouraged me to have faith in God, because he knows exactly what situation we're in, our state of health and how the three of us - God, Alex and I will deal together with it like a threefold cord.

Slowly I came to. She is right of course. Having faith in God is the only real solution to all of life's problems.

An Empty House is Never Burgled.

The old saying, absence makes the heart grow fonder, seems to be more realistic than I have always thought. So as I felt as I lay on a bed inside a hospital ward just two nights before this blog is written. But how did I end up there in the first place?

It is all to do with my aortic valve replacement operation just over four years previously, as a treatment for a regurgitating aortic valve I had, so I was told, since I was young, perhaps even from birth. Although the procedure was a complete success in itself, life-long repercussions remain. This includes taking anticoagulants, in my case Warfarin, for life, along with beta-blockers and diuretics. However, it was a decision taken by one Cardiologist at Heatherwood Hospital in Ascot, that I can come off the diuretics. I thought a first that was wonderful. Then the problems began. I began to get short of breath every time I exerted myself from a state of rest to exercise. And that could be as simple as climbing a flight of steps.

It was when I came to the stage of even finding walking difficult without gasping for breath when Alex my wife begged me to see a GP. Yes, begged. The same as five years previously when I kept on waking up in the small hours of the morning wheezing and having a sensation of drowning, as liquid rattled in my chest at every breath taken. Back then, as this time around, I paid a visit to my GP after much persuasion - er - nagging - by my wife. Yes, I am aware. We as men have a sense of embarrassment about seeing the Doctor. Being male myself, I tend to believe in this universal sense of awkwardness, which I think arises from the belief that our symptoms are not serious enough to waste the Doctor's time and be fobbed off -  "On yer bike, pal".

But an out-of-hours Doctor I did see, and this female, who looks to be fresh out of college, saw straightaway, that I was panting and looking unwell. And that was just after walking a few metres after sitting for half-an-hour at the waiting room. After a talk which consisted mainly of answering a pile of questions, she made a successful diagnosis of my condition and was able to see that I was suffering from water retention, which was responsible for the shortness of breath. At that, she decided for me to visit Royal Berks A&E in Reading, and to arrange for an ambulance to take me straight there. I protested, asking her to put me back on diuretics and continue as before. Instead, she insisted on a visit to a Consultant as a more appropriate need. 

I phoned my wife, who immediately summoned a taxi. She waiting for my arrival at A&E for quite a while before I finally arrived. She was my comfort while reclining on the gurney, watching nurses and doctors walk past in both directions, along with patients being wheeled away by a porter, the never-ending hustle-and-bustle of a typical A&E department. It was several hours later when one of the doctors entered my cubicle to announce that I will be kept in overnight. My wife panicked. 

This is because whenever she feels distressed or experience a rise of negative emotion, various things happen. One is a severe backache caused by the tightening of her muscles, immobilising her. Normally, I can quickly get her out of her condition, having learnt from experience, along with an administration of a strong painkiller such as Co-Codamol or Oramorph. Another state her emotions can lead her to is a seizure, remaining conscious but a tightening of her throat or neck muscles threatening asphyxiation. I have learned to get her out of that condition too, by applying CPR which I had previously learned as a poolside lifeguard back in 1972/3. On another occasion, she can get into a kind of body lock, when although still remaining conscious, she goes into a deep unwakeable sleep-like state which takes a while for her to recover. Such is her threefold neurotic disorder arisen from a series of long-past psychosomatic circumstances.

In a state of sudden panic, she tried to phone through to a couple who have been friends for a long time, and who also took her in while I was recovering from my heart op at Harefield Hospital in Uxbridge. But the ringing went unanswered. Then realising that this was a week when schools were shut for half-term and many were away on holiday, we knew then we were on our own. 

And so she booked a taxi for home while I was wheeled to one of the wards. It was a while later when I knew that by then she should have settled in, was when a nurse lent me a hospital mobile phone and tried to contact her several times and the phone remained unanswered, that a deep feeling of helplessness and hopelessness filled my soul. All night through.

Being in a hospital ward, there were constant interruptions as nurses walk in to take blood pressure measurements, including from me. The welcoming darkness dispelled every time a patient turn on his bedside light or the much-needed silence disturbed by conversation, whether between patients or to staff, the situation was never ideal for a good night's sleep.

And visions from an overactive imagination.

My imagination was indeed running wild. I kept seeing visions of my beloved lying on the floor, paralysed. Unable to move, her throat muscles tightening as if strangled by an unseen force. With nobody to help her, she finally gives up the ghost by asphyxiation. Or lying on the floor with her back muscles curved in tightness while suffering from extreme pain. And with both front and back doors locked, no one can enter the house to assist her. Furthermore, she has my house keys. That means even if I were to leave the hospital ward to get home quickly, she could be lying unconscious and there is nothing I can do short of a literal break in.

Main Entrance Royal Berks Hospital, Reading.

It was as if I was teased, a target for fun-poking, ridicule. I tried to imagine what would a life of widowhood be like. Worldwide travel again? A return to being single? None of these brought any comfort, but rather a source of torment. I could circumnavigate the globe many times over. But none of that would make up for the love and affection we have always exchanged. The only person in the world who sincerely thinks I'm good-looking, gorgeous, a rock of security, someone who she adores, a representation of Jesus Christ. If she goes, then the empty void left behind will be impossible to fill -  the wretched feeling of loneliness would be too much to bear - unless I experience a miracle.

Perhaps we are both in need of one. If only Jesus Christ materialise in front of us and promises he would grant three of anything we ask for. Immediately, without hesitation, we would ask for a restoration of health, assurance of salvation for us and our three daughters and perhaps financial security as a top up, but not on the expense of trusting in him for our daily needs.

Around breakfast time, I again tried to contact my wife over the phone. And yet again no answer. I kept trying, but this carried on as if stubbornly refusing to acknowledge my call. Eventually, in sheer desperation, I cried to God to bring her back to the hospital ward. I kept on repeating my prayers, regardless of whether they were heard by others in the ward or not. My heart was pleading, pleading...

As we parted during the previous evening, she promised that she would be by my side before nine in the morning. But it was already 10.30 and I was still alone. I tried to shut out any thoughts that she could be unconscious, or even dead, back at home and carried on pleading with the Lord to bring her over safely.

At 10.45 my wife suddenly appeared as she was wheeled in by a porter. The sudden sense of relief as we hugged was almost unimaginable. It was then when I piled thanks upon thanks to God for his goodness. About an hour later the Consultant came in to visit to put me on a permanent prescription of Bumetanide, a diuretic medicine I was taking before it was discontinued. He then said that we were free to go home after the medicine arrives from the hospital pharmacist. Indeed, I was thinking, if that young GP was on the same track of thought as I was on the previous day, we would have been spared of all this, as well as the cost to the NHS. I can only assume that as an apparent junior, she did not carry the authority to put the diuretic back on prescription without a more senior consultation.

It seems that as a married couple, we have a lion's share of tribulation, and that aimed specifically at our health. My wife's neurotic disorder brings just as much anxiety to me as well as my heart condition brings to her. We both worry for each other constantly, life on a knife-edge, a constant emotional turmoil. The most frequent-asked question is, Are you okay? I could ask that several times within a couple of hours.

It wasn't long since I came across a poster on Facebook. It read An Empty House is Never Burgled. This reminds me of a thief, a robber or burglar. Who are thieves and robbers? Apparently, it's the Adversary, according to Jesus' own words recorded in John 10:10. A thief only steals if the intended victim has something worthy to be taken. An empty, unoccupied house is of no interest to the burglar! Apparently, Satan must be constantly hungry, for he seems to go after the fruit, that is, the fruit of the Holy Spirit. As the apostle writes in 2 Timothy 3:12, anyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted, or simply will have trouble.  

We tend to think that persecution only means being hated by unbelievers - to be chased, thrown into prison, forced to deny the faith, tortured, killed. Hmm! I cannot see any of that aimed at any of our churches here! Maybe Paul the Apostle had got it wrong, or times have changed since his day. Or maybe the word applies to a far more universal term of suffering - to have trouble, to suffer some kind of tribulation.

This makes far more sense. By means of the Holy Spirit living within us, we produce good fruit: Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, Self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). Indeed, Satan is constantly hungry and he will steal. Especially the fruits of love, joy and peace, but he'll go after others, particularly patience when driving in traffic or stuck in a superstore checkout queue. Often God does not stop the spiritual crime, although he allows it to go only so far.

Our love will be forever...

I look at our own marriage relationship. I'm happy to say that it 's strong, stable, robust. And believe it or not, I think that the tribulations aimed at our health and wellbeing have played a role. And I think absence makes the heart grow fonder. During that night at the hospital ward, all I was concerned was that she was okay on her own at home. Not that I never go out on my own, of course, I do, just about every day I'm out on my own, whether it'll be for a few minutes or for several hours, or even for much of the day. But there is a world of a difference, for example, between a gym and sauna session and being confined at a hospital ward bed.

The Adversary may attempt to steal as much as he can from us, even our lives, but our love for each other will remain forever.

The Penny Dropped into the Tunnel

Ever since I took my beloved into the Chamber of Commons inside the Palace of Westminster last year, she had a longing to also visit the European Parliament in Brussels. Never mind that she intended voting to leave the European Union at the 2016 Referendum, to visit a centre of authority, especially one of political or governmental administration has always filled her with a sense of enthrallment.

I felt nervous about the whole idea of taking her to Brussels, a rather unusual feeling to have when considering that international travel was, and I guess, still is, second nature to me. But that is the outcome of her suffering a neurotic disorder which not only makes her reliant on a constant supply of medicine but for the need to call for an ambulance whenever she finds herself in a temporary "locked in syndrome" which is known to be linked to her severe backache.

Here in the UK, a call for an ambulance can be made at any location and NHS treatment is administered free to the point of use. But step off our soil and enter another country and things could well be different. One has to pay for an ambulance journey to the hospital and added to this, it's up to the discretion of its staff to decide whether we need to pay for treatment, and if so, how much. Yet once again, the EU has provided a European Health Insurance Card, or EHIC, which allows, in some countries, free healthcare or one of a reduced price within Europe.

A big contrast and a risk indeed if visiting the USA without medical insurance! Across the Pond, treatment can cost the patient thousands of dollars, and there have been instances when uninsured British holidaymakers to the States had to sell their own homes to pay for the astronomical medical bills. Indeed, every time I was due to fly across the Atlantic Ocean myself, I always prayed that no harm would come my way, even when I was fully insured.

And prayer might have been very effective in the mid-1990s, on two occasions. The first was in 1995 when hiking into the Grand Canyon, during the last part of the hike back to South Rim, I suffered a severe bout of hyponatremia, which is a dilution of the bloodstream caused by drinking of excess fresh water without the equivalent need for salt intake. The result of this is muscle cramp, particularly with the calf muscles, but the pain can spread to the back of the thighs. After successfully completing the hike, I was offered by one of the on-duty rangers to see an onsite doctor. I declined his offer, knowing that just for him to poke his head through the door would set me back $200. Instead, I was cared for by a nurse for free, who gave me a cup of electrolyte and told to rest for an hour, after which I made a quick recovery.

I suffered leg cramp on the last part of the hike...

The second near-cropper occurred in 1997, after flying to Los Angeles from Sydney. (Back then this commercial flight was featured in the Guinness Book of Records for being the longest non-stop.) It was three or four days later, after visiting La Jolla, which is some miles out of San Diego, when I saw the bus back into town on the other side of the highway. And so I did, what to any sensible person would have seen, was an incredibly stupid thing. I dashed across the highway to board the bus just as it was about to pull out. Of course, I looked both ways beforehand, but such an act of mad impulsiveness could have landed me in hospital, or even a mortuary, coming to think of it, after being struck and tossed into the air by a fast car "which appeared suddenly out of nowhere".

And for both of these occasions, my insurance policy may not have covered me, due to "taking risky acts" and suchlike clauses found in the small print giving the insurers good reason not to pay up.

I shake whenever I look back, especially of that bus incident. It was one of those things which any lone traveller can get involved, and an important lesson for the future always to keep my impulsiveness under check. Therefore, to travel abroad with a high risk of ill-health brings a multi-sense of nervousness, anxiety, fear even. Back in the nineties, I was very fortunate indeed. By doing this now, am I tempting fate?

For these reasons, I had a feeling of reluctance when my beloved wife kept up her desire to visit Brussels. I suppose this was something of a repeat of the Samson-and-Delilah scenario when after the constant mentioning of her wish, I finally gave in. But why was I feeling anxious in the first place? After all, since the partial loss of her mobility, I had taken her to Paris on the Eurostar twice already - thirty months ago and again a year later in 2017. Why so reluctant this time?

It was due to her worsening episodes of backache and related symptoms, and her greater dependence on powerful painkillers such as Co-Codamol and Oramorph of which neither were needed on her Paris trips. Therefore, ensuring that she was fully stocked with all her medicines, and also ensuring that I too was fully stocked up with Warfarin and related drugs, we set off for London St Pancras International Station.

I love the Eurostar international train service. It has that something which sets it apart from all the other national rail services. Even the train from Paris Gare de Lyon to Dijon, the fastest section of the Boulogne-Sur-Mer to Roma Termini, the whole journey which I completed in 1975, does not hold a candle to the Eurostar route. And as far as I'm aware, the Paris-to-Dijon route was the forerunner of the high-speed TGV which was the fastest in Europe, if not the world, at the time.

And so we arrive in Brussels Midi through station after a two-hour non-stop journey from London. And here again, I can draw a comparison between this journey and the one I did some 44 years earlier. To get to Brussels, the train first enters the Eurotunnel near Folkstone, on the English Kent coast. It travels under the sea to emerge at Calais on the French coast. It then travels across northern France until it reaches the French city of Lille. Just after Lille, the train crosses the border into Belgium. After we alighted at Brussels, the Eurostar continued on for Rotterdam and ends in Amsterdam, both in Holland.

In 1975, I had to go through a passport check at Modane Station before entering the Mt. Cenis Pass, a railway tunnel under the Alps which opens out at Bardonecchia, just inside the Italian border. I recall that time. It was late at night when the train was snaking through the valleys and through many shorter tunnels cutting into the mountain range. When it halted at Modane, it stayed there for I would say thirty minutes, while Border Control checked all our passports. It seemed like an eternity before the train sounded a groan as it started moving towards the tunnel entrance. It was already daybreak when the train emerged from the tunnel in Italy. It was mid-afternoon when I finally arrived at Roma Termini, some 25-26 hours after boarding the boat-train at London Victoria.

And all that was between just two countries, France and Italy. Now the Eurostar can travel between four countries after just one set of double passport checks, one after the other, both at St Pancras. The free movement between nations once out of England is to me, a marvellous effort of the European Union.

There was up to an hour's walk from Brussels Midi to the Parliamentarium, a museum of EU history and present administration. It's located close to the European Parliament. Having the need to push a wheelchair, we both agree to shun any more of public transport, whether bus or metro and enjoy what we could see of this Belgian city. Our decision paid off, as we passed through a lovely garden with a castle behind it, a relic of the city's history. 

We approached a castle, Brussels.

Much of the day we spent at the museum, as well as taking a look at the Parliamentary buildings and also at the European Commission Headquarters, a giant four-prong building about a 15-20-minute walk from the Parliamentarium.

Exhibits displaying the history of the EU has impressed me. Following the ravages of World War II, the Treaty of Rome was signed in March of 1957 and began to take effect from January 1st, 1958. It consisted of just six nations - France, Belgium, Italy, Luxembourg, the Netherlands and West Germany. As we walked along the modern glass-lined and illuminated gallery, we were able to listen via earphones on how the Union slowly developed from the initial six-nation European Community to the present 28-nation EU, with the entry of the UK into the EC in 1973, along with Denmark and the Irish Republic. Indeed, I recall voting for the UK to enter the EC as a mere twenty-year-old, and I have never regretted it since!

A hands-on gallery featuring a giant map of Europe on the floor with various scanning points representing principal cities was another area of interest. By wheeling the scanner over London, I was able to learn that the EU was the source for the benefit of advancement in Medicine. I wheeled the scanner over Paris, and learn that railway transport was made much more efficient by being in the EU. For example, it was through an agreement, known as the Canterbury Treaty, which was signed between Britain and France in 1986 for the construction of the Eurotunnel. Finally, a meal at the museum restaurant completed a very edifying visit for both of us. 

In all, the EU arose from the ravages of the War. To my mind, it was the most forward project ever dreamt up to keep the potential of another global war in check. In a fallen world, the EU has never been perfect, neither did it result in another Garden of Eden, but it's a whole lot better than living under a threat of international conflict!

That's why I find leaving the EU a deep mystery within the mind of the Englishman and an incredible insult to common sense! Just last night I came across a poster on Facebook which scrolled on to the screen. It was a video of one-time pop star of The Who, Roger Daltry, who was cursing the EU, using foul language and unprintable swear words. Listing the EU leaders as the effing Mafia (without showing any evidence to prove his point), he reflects many who had voted to leave - the want of to be his own boss and a makebelieve life of a glorious golden future as an independent sovereign nation.

Map scanning gallery, Parliamentarium.

I guess it's the Englishman's Home is his Castle ethic. It is thoroughly unbiblical, arouse hostility, and I believe it's dishonouring to God when found within churches. And it looks to me that there is a connection between this attitude and disregard of Holy Scripture. For example, I have listened to the sermon of one Brexit-supporting graduate deny the historicity of the first chapter of Genesis. He is certainly not alone. Throughout my lifetime I have come across many grads who hold the same set of opinions regarding the denial of the Genesis record. Also apparently disregarded is the wonderful promise made by Paul to the churches in Galatia:

There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's seed, and heirs according to the promise.

Galatians 3:28-29.

In other words, being in the family of God through faith in Jesus Christ transcends above nationality, gender and social status. This is a wonderful truth, a great promise, and also provides an answer to the hate-filled attitude among Christians found on both sides of the divide.

What a crying shame this hostile attitude towards remaining in the EU by Brexit supporters. Among other things, this has resulted in hate-filled comments following newspaper articles on the subject. And not a few were demanding the closure of the Channel Tunnel. Some were even pushing for a permanent sealing by dynamiting it. Strange really. British people had ferried to-and-fro across the Channel for decades, maybe even centuries before our present Eurotunnel was even thought of. But I have never heard a whisper or read a single statement demanding the sinking of all Channel-crossing ships! Yet they want the tunnels blown up and permanently sealed.

And while our train was passing through the tunnel on its way to London, the penny dropped.

Why such hostility towards Eurotunnel, especially among Brexiters? 

Could it be that those protesting under the banner of English sovereignty had never boarded Eurostar or used any of its shuttles? They won't admit to the true reason: They are terrified of the possibility of a train breakdown deep within the tunnel under the ocean, a signal failure, fire, a bomb threat, or even a breach of the seabed, flooding the whole of the tunnel, drowning everyone marooned inside. Yes, a terrifying prospect. Just the sort of frightful thinking which would scare me from venturing out the front door, let alone travel on Eurostar.

God's Promises Will Stand.

A few days ago I requested an appointment to see a Doctor at our local surgery, for two issues. The first was that of a development of a bruise on my upper arm, a solid black circle about an inch in diameter, which had formed for no apparent reason, since being over the bicep area, a site unlikely to receive any blows or other forms of external injury. Despite the total lack of pain accompanying the bruise, my wife was more alarmed at the site than I was, and pleaded me to see the G.P. The other issue was at the base of the left foot, just above the ankle, when around mid-afternoon onward, a sharp searing pain envelopes the joint, making the use of the ladder at work very difficult indeed, as well as having to limp along instead of walking properly.

Perhaps there is that masculine trait in me about not wanting to see the doctor. Basically, I have that hunch about wasting the G.P's time, when he has other patients with far more serious complaints to deal with. Yes, I have read posters about people crowding the Accident and Emergency department of a hospital, even for something as trivial as a headache, but wasting valuable N.H.S. resources is something I was determined to stay clear of. After all, I don't want either myself or others around to see me as a whiny wimp who runs to the Doctor every time I cough, belch or fart. But the reason for my wife's concern about the bruise was because I take an anticoagulant medicine on a regular daily basis, which I must for the rest of my life, or risk suffering a stroke. On the leaflet which comes with every packet of pills, under possible side effects, I was warned to see a Doctor straight away if bruising occurs, short of an external injury. I suppose there was something about not visiting the Doctor, despite my wife's pleas. Perhaps it was not wanting to receive a telling-off from such a professional, instead to be told to man up, don't be so whiny, and stop wasting his time.

Like about twelve months previously, when I woke up about two or three o'clock in the morning gasping for air, like a man who had just ran a foot-race and crossed the finish line. This, together with rumbling of the chest and feeling of a drowning sensation, which threefold symptom repeated itself night after night for a couple of weeks. Back then, my dear wife persuaded me to visit the Doctor, even when I believed it was nothing more than a bug which would eventually get fed up and leave. But she won the argument, and I reluctantly went, only to be eventually diagnosed with a heart problem and in need of an operation to put it right. Whiny indeed!

So it came as not a surprise when I called at the surgery's reception, only to be told that there was no appointment available that day, and all time slots were fully booked up. And that was not even on a Monday or a Friday when the surgery is particularly busy. Instead, by submitting my mobile phone number to Reception, the Doctor would contact me as soon as possible. And so he did. He called me in to have a blood test done straight away, for I might have gone over the limit with the anticoagulants, making my blood "too thin" - hence the cause of the bruising. As for my foot problem, I gave an accurate description of the symptoms as I possibly could have done. He seemed rather familiar with the complaint, for he came back with Arthritis as the cause of the problem. Arthritis! The "old man's illness" as it is so traditionally believed. What amazes me was that as recently as eighteen months previously I was considering the possibility of working right up to my seventieth birthday, as I felt on top of the world, even though milder symptoms of arthritis in the feet were already being felt. But back then, I thought all these were a passing phase. 

Things look so different now. With such a recent cardiac procedure, a lifetime on medicine, and now arthritis in the feet to contend with us well, I have arrived at the crossroads for early retirement. But not just for my health's sake but that of my wife as well. During the three months convalescence, one thing which has added further joy and strength to our marriage was my role of carer, and I won't beat about the bush here, but I thoroughly enjoyed it, and the return to work I saw more of a set back rather than progress. Maybe, as one of our church elders had put it; it is time for me to retire from work to spend more time together, and to enjoy the rich blessings God has for us. However, for what I can see and have experienced over the last few years, our Doctor's surgery has always been very busy, with patients of all ages, gender, and social class packing the waiting room in front of Reception.

And where we live is at a typical middle-class suburbia. We have neighbouring streets where not only every home is a detached house with private front and back gardens, but with average ownership of two to three cars. Around here people are generally well-off, and have professional careers, yet the number of busy surgeries dotted around the district testifying that the health of our nation isn't that great. And we are not even the worst. Nearer to London there was a media report on one surgery that was so busy, that patients literally queuing up outside the doors, with a hope of seeing a doctor face-to-face on the same day. Not to mention Accident and Emergency departments of all hospitals across the land where the average waiting time is four hours per patient.

It makes me ponder why, in such a rich country, there is such a high rate of illness and the need for treatments. Even I can testify of a two-week delay with my own cardiac procedure, due to the intensive care ward being chock-a-block, and therefore receiving two cancellation notices, each a week apart, prior to the operation. As I have mentioned in earlier blogs, the combined emotion of worry, anger, and fear are the "big three" health-wrecking emotions, together with the feeling of frustration, along with the British perception of sharing emotional talk as weak and unmanly. Uncertainty of the future is one of the major cause of anxiety, as in my case, as well as not being sure which direction our present Government is leading our country.

Fear is the biggest enemy to health, and it comes with various levels such as terror, worry, and anxiety. Fear of the future - the fear of job loss, prolonged unemployment, illness, the threat of poverty, ending up in a Civil Court over a dispute about benefits, failure in mortgage or rent payments, or anything which threatens our peace. All these can make a strong person end up as a hospital patient. As retirement is very close to my mind at the moment, would our present Government move the goalposts, forcing me to work for an income until a later age? Would they do away with Housing Benefit, a wonderful godsend for those tenants struggling with high rents? And so-to-speak, would our leaders snap a whip across my back to get me to work into old age, even while physically impaired, so that the rich can be spared from paying too high taxes, if any taxes at all? Should I feel pity, if not deep anxiety for my daughters' future? What kind of a world are we handing over to them?

Yet despite all this doom and gloom, there is a wonderful source of hope!

One of our wedding songs sang during the church ceremony was Father God. The first verse goes like this:

Father God I wonder how I managed to exist without the knowledge of your parenthood and your loving care? Now I am you son, I am adopted in your family, and I can never be alone 'cause Father God, you're there beside me.

This was sang by us and by the congregation at our wedding, and to me at least, it's one of the most assuring songs ever written, and it is my wife's favourite. The chorus goes:

I will sing your praises! I will sing your praises! I will sing you Praises! For evermore -

And this is repeated as many times as one desires.

And this song is based on the surety of God's promises, as well as through day-to-day living. One of the best examples of this took place in the Garden of Eden, at the dawn of history. Immediately after the Fall of Adam and Eve, God passes judgement (Genesis 3:14-19) which contains the promise that the serpent's head will be bruised by the seed of the woman, who in turn will have his heel bruised in the process - verse 15 - which is a good description of the Crucifixion, death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Then the calling of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, through whom the seed is promised. The institution of the Jewish Passover further endorses this promise, which comes up repeatedly throughout prophecy, such as Psalm 22, Isaiah 53, and Zechariah 9:9, and many more. God's promise to restore Israel as a nation in the future from this point of time is assured, particularly in Isaiah chapters 11 and 66, Jeremiah chapters 30 and 31, Ezekiel chapters 36 and 37, and Zechariah chapters 10 -14. All of these promises, and many more, are solid-rock certain, they will be fulfilled. Therefore if God is all sovereign, and he is fully omniscient as well as omnipotent and omnipresent, then surely not only does he have the whole world in his hands, but the very exact number of days we have has already been determined by him. He knows our thoughts, our feelings, our joy and our anxieties. He already knows what we will say and do in the future even before any of them come to pass.

As one of the sermons I have listened to in recent weeks, God knows best, and everything which happens to us works for the good for those who love him, that is to say, for every believer. But this does not leave us without any choice. For Peter himself writes in his letter:

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you 1 Peter 5:7.

That is a promise that I should look upon in times like these. God cares for me. So if I want to retire two years before the official age, why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I revel in the goodness and blessing of God while caring for my lame wife, and adding further strength, romance, and sparkle into our marriage? I think God has already said "Yes" to such a move. Signs seem to point to this. So why not? Should I accept "slave status" from the present Government simply because I happen to be working class, poorly educated, and a mere average earner, as opposed to being a rich company executive or a celebrity? No, I won't accept such a status! Instead, I'll go by what God has said of me, that as a true believer, I am his, I am adopted into his family, and I can never be alone to face a cruel world. It can be said that the world may go as far as kill my body, but it can never change my mind.

Self-Imposed Exile - a Blessing.

When I wrote last week's blog, it had never crossed my mind just how controversial it would so quickly become! Within a couple of days after posting, it has collected more hits from readers than most of my recent input. I suppose that every one who had read it came away with his own conclusion, but again, it would not surprise me too much when the matter of health becomes an issue. Let's face it, nobody wants to be ill, unwell, or age rapidly, and like any other human in his right mind, any elixir promised that would promote health and longevity would, without doubt, attract attention.

So I had made a suggestion about hugging, as part of bromance, as being beneficial to health, and according to recent research, this form of natural affection between two or more people causes a hormone, oxytocin, to be released from the pituitary gland, which among other benefits, help beat depression, one of the greatest emotional causes underlying various physical illnesses and diseases. With men of faith such as Joseph, his brother Benjamin, David, his best mate Jonathan, and even the apostle John, all living without ever having to make an appointment to visit a Doctor's surgery, I have wondered how they have existed without the need for medicine - although long before John's day, the great medic of the ancient Greeks, Hippocrates, was already dispensing medicine from a hospital, then known as the Asklepeion, on the Greek island of Kos. This brilliant scholar had correctly connected physical illness with emotional imbalances, while the general theory of his day was that diseases were punishments bestowed on erring mankind from the plethora of bickering divinities populating Heaven. Such an achievement Hippocrates made towards modern medicine, along with the respect and care shown to each of his patients, that right up to this day, I believe, the Hippocratic Oath is taken by just about all medical students, and every Physician treating you at present has taken the modern version of the Oath, which is secular, omitting the vow promised to the ancient deities. The page header photo of my wife posing among some restored Roman columns was taken at the Asklepeion.

But we did not have to fly out to Kos to learn about Hippocrates in order to conclude that natural affection had always been beneficial. Rather, I was already aware of this years before I even met Alex my wife. One far more recent medic, Dr S. I. McMillen, wrote a book, None of These Diseases, which emphasised that obedience to the Bible as the Word of God leads to a happier lifestyle which is the key to better health. And the central theme of obedience to God is to love one another. In fact, Jesus emphasised that the whole world will know that we are his disciples if we love one another. (John 15:12-13) and that is the commandment given to all believers, which was meant to set us apart from the rest of society. 

But it is a terrible misfortune in the western world, and particularly here in the UK, to associate any affection between males as homosexuality, and that despite such a term only began to exist in the early twentieth century. We live in a world where the sight of two men giving each other a prolong hug as something rather distasteful, even abhorrent, and assuming to involve sex or any other perversion. Yet we happily read our Bibles and expound it every Sunday at church, yet not give a moment's thought that a number of saints are recorded as greeting each other in precisely that way. Let me make one thing clear: Bromance is not Homosexuality, it only becomes that if such an interpretation is read into it. Very much like reading Hell-fire into James 2:17 when nothing of the kind was meant, but rather how one's faith would be evaluated by another person or group of people. 

Therefore, ever since my conversion to Jesus Christ as Saviour back towards the end of 1972, hugging another adult has always been my norm, as it was from a hug in a disused jam factory at an East London district of Bromley, that has helped change my course of direction to follow Jesus Christ. This, I believe, was a link which came just a few months after I was dumped by my fiancee, and finding myself on board the train home literally weeping with shattered feelings. How that hug benefited me! But afterwards, learning to embrace and not to embrace was something which took longer to learn. For example, I quickly learnt how not to hug an unwilling recipient, and that was when he crossed his chest with his forearms and pushed outwardly. It was a very embarrassing moment, and one I was eager to avoid repeating. But it took me much longer to learn not to hug another willing recipient, and that is really cultural - the possibility of others seeing it as a perversion and bringing the reputation of the church to ruin - instead of others longing for a hug as well, especially the lonely, the broken-hearted, or the destitute. I wonder how they would have thought of God's love if they were warmly embraced? But then all this is just an issue. Most churches tend to be middle class, a well-educated gathering of worshippers, who have prosperous careers, have families, and lacking for nothing, together with a high percentage of senior citizens. Not much room for the lonely and the destitute.

But issues with reputation, the possibility of Social Services intervening, or some other scandal percolating into the fellowship was the cause of going into temporal exile. It wasn't any dispute with the Elders that was behind my decision. Rather it was what came afterwards, in an email sent to me by one of the Elders. In it, I read of behind-my-back reports to the Elders about my hugging warmth, delivered to them secretly by anonymous members of the church. In other words, I was under secret surveillance without any word of it coming back to me. This made me feel very uncomfortable, and virtually impossible to worship freely. So I went into temporary exile until I feel ready to return.  

Did my faith fail as a result? Not a bit of it! Instead, every Sunday I have visited a different church. Such included a Pentecostal church, a couple of Anglican churches, and a couple of evangelical Baptist churches. And what I have found so striking in particular, were how similar the two Anglican churches had become to the more charismatic evangelicals. No longer with the image of stuffiness, if you know what I mean, such as dismal-looking and befuddled men dressed up in suit and tie, and with each of the ladies sporting the finest dresses while matching a rather sour countenance, or  for that matter, a small group of mainly elderly females huddling together in otherwise a hall of vacant pews. No, it was none of any of that! Rather all the churches I visited so far were vibrant, and filled with people of all ages, even if the elderly made up a large percentage. At one Baptist church in Guildford, I wasn't alone for long, as there was always someone interested in me as a newcomer. But furthermore, the preach was about the Sovereignty of God, and that God knows best when we hit troubled times, or when prayer remains persistently unanswered. This was a sermon which struck home in the midst of my heart, and by believing, I felt blessed. And at an Anglican church, the subject was about Romans chapter eight, which I consider to be one of the most encouraging chapters in the Bible. In both Anglican churches, I was greeted warmly, and had people approach to find out who I am, and about my spiritual health.   

I also discovered that my own fellowship was not unique after all when it came to casual dress. Rather, in both Anglican and Baptist churches were the ties worn by the men seldom seen, as I have always thought that my own church was the only one so casually dressed, as if in full rebellion against tradition. Only the Pentecostal church had more men wearing ties, and many of the women had their heads covered with a scarf. And this was the church with the smallest congregation I have seen, with no more than about thirty people in all. Indeed, visiting different churches, one for each Sunday, was certainly a eye-opener.

As for hugging, only in the first church visited did I receive an embrace, and that was from an old friend I knew for many years. But with the other four churches I visited afterwards, nobody came to hug me, and guess what? Neither did I approach anyone to hug either. Being a newcomer at every church meeting, I felt a newness of worship, fresh and untainted from any form of bias, surveillance, or monitoring. It was a wonderful feeling - the freedom to worship God with joy and thanksgiving, and to receive his message without any trace of hangups, in the way I felt bound up with in my own fellowship prior to my exile. By being a newcomer in every church visited, I have found it much easier not to hug anyone, unless they come to me for a hug. I'm not the one who would cross my forearms over the chest and push away. For going by my own experience, I'm aware that such a motion would crush the spirit of one who may need an embrace.

But as I see it, maybe hugging is not necessary in this part of the world. For example, one Anglican church I paid a visit to is set on the outskirts of a small town, barely larger than a village, among a gated residential area with beautiful roadside gardens boasting healthy Mediterranean palm trees. This area spoke volumes of wealth. It would not be the kind of area where down-and-outs would loiter, let alone enter the church. A brisk handshake was all that needed, but at least I wasn't ignored. The Baptist Church in Guildford fronts a lovely garden park, which through the River Wey tumbles over a weir, as it winds its way to join the River Thames, the park itself being the added enhancement to a historic city with a high reputation of wealth and prosperity.

Meanwhile, my exile continues for a few more weeks, with more churches on the list to visit. Then when I feel that I'm ready, I'll will return to my home church, I hope with a fresh start.

An Astonishing Situation.

As we live somewhat ordinary day-to-day lives, from time to time something I find astonishing comes up on the news bulletin. Like the announcement that the space probe Rosetta had caught up with the comet 67P/C-G and throughout its rendezvous with it, about to orbit the rock on a triangular course, even to to find a suitable site for its robotic landing of its sibling Philae - not easy, as such a lump of rock flying through space is anything but spherical, let alone providing a landing pad. Rosetta was launched from near Kourou, in the South American State of French Guinea, on 2nd March, 2004 - the very same day as the birth of our second daughter. For the last ten years, this vehicle hurtled through space to purposely meet with the chosen comet to find out whether it holds any clues to the origins of life on Earth.

 

This idea originated from the theory that comets and other heavenly bodies contain the molecule which makes up the animo acids which from which all life originates, to put it simply. No doubt about it, the project is the product of human intelligence - the magnificence of the human mind, the ability to make decisions, and the possibility to solve extremely complex problems using mathematics and physics, making the human brain an astonishing marvel!

Other great ideas, other than the invention of the wheel, includes the discovery of Penicillin in 1928 by Dr. Alexander Fleming at St. Mary's Hospital in London. Like any normal human, he accidentally left open a Petri dish containing the culture of Staphylococcus bacteria - and like a discarded slice of damp bread, it wasn't long before common mould began to develop in the dish, causing a reaction with the bacteria, which such discovery led to the antibiotic Penicillin, a saviour-drug for multiple thousands of patients, particularly those who had contacted venom through sexually-transmitted diseases. This led me to think that such an act of apparent clumsiness or forgetfulness on the part of the scientist can allow nature to take its course and perform acts which we humans can consider miraculous. 

 

Medicine, for me anyway, can be a fascinating study. While the pre-Renaissance Western world was still languishing with life-threatening diseases, it was known that other cultures of the world, such as in the Far East and the American Indian, were familiar with various herbs which had medicinal powers. And although I had read articles in the past that the origin of medicine was connected with the occult, really it occurred to me that the only occult were the ritual dancing and religious beliefs which accompanied the healing of the patient - particularly among the Native Americans - but had these rituals not taken place, the herbs would have still have had their healing properties.

 

Then there was good old Dr. Hippocrates, who practiced at the Greek island of Kos in the 5th Century BC. He did not believe in surgical operations, as he thought that dissecting the body was against the will of the gods. But like the American Indian, he prescribed drugs gotten from various herbs, and even had in-patient wards where the sick can be observed while on medication. On the same grounds as the hospital, various temples dedicated to certain divinities were used for the sick to pray, and to offer sacrifices to the gods. Even in our modern hospitals, there is always a chapel found in the premises, but far less obvious and significant than the huge temples which dominated Hippocrates' day. The astonishing similarity of treatment over 2,400 years has allowed the Hippocratic Oath to be taken by medics even to this day.

 

Hospital of Hippocrates, the Asklepeion, Kos -taken October 2011

 

But the wonder of these natural herbs providing healing powers - including Penicillin which was gotten from a common mould, and that without accompanying religious rituals - demonstrates the love and mercy of God in such divine provisions. But even at present, when many of the medicinal drugs used at present are synthetic rather than natural, by his provision of the original herbs, we can thank the Lord for his mercies when it comes to healing of illnesses.

And so going back to the subject of the Rosetta Space probe, a stupendous result of a group of ingenious minds working together - then not to mention scores of other human creations and engineering feats, from the microchip which controls an intricate yet powerful computer, to the delicate mechanism of a wristwatch, made with precision to keep time accurately, right up to the mega-structures of civil engineering, such for example, the magnificent Sydney Harbour Bridge in Australia, or a railway tunnel bored through solid rock under the English Channel. Let's face it, modern engineering and technology has not only made day-to-day living much easier for us, but has also expanded our horizon of knowledge our forefathers would have never imagined.

Yet in the case of the Rosetta space probe - the very purpose of such a project will be to gather information for clues whether life here on Earth had its origin from outer space. This is a theory originally conceived by Sir Fred Hoyle, a brilliant astronomer and mathematician. Hoyle was an atheist, who rejected the idea of the Big Bang as the proposed theory for the origin of the Universe, and instead, advocated the steady state, which means that the Universe had existed from eternity past, and like a flowing river in which every water molecule is on the move, the river itself remains endless. Hoyle had much trouble reconciling Darwin Evolution with his own research on cell biology. For example, he used the probability of the enzyme, part of the protein chain formed within the nucleus of a cell, to calculate the impossibility of having evolved without divine intervention. He worked out that the probability of just the enzyme itself having evolved to its present form by chance is one out of one, followed by 40,000 zeroes! With such a mathematical result, Hoyle was forced to conclude the reality of divine creation - or come up with some other theory. In this case, to him life on Earth was the result of animo acid molecules entering the primeval ocean, itself formed by comets consisting of ice colliding with the primeval Earth.

Millions was spent, many, many man hours went into the designing, construction and launch of the Rosetta, to find out whether Fred Hoyle was right with his theory. It took a further ten years for the probe to catch up with the comet, and from the time of writing, it will be a further three months before Rosetta launches its sibling, the Philae, for a robotic landing on the comet itself to gather enough information to see how close to the truth this scientist had been. Suppose the comet does consist of ice, and animo acid molecules were found in the rock? Wouldn't this be a massive victory for Darwinism, and the Bible proved false after all?

That is precisely what these brilliant, academic minds are after. The final answer to the origin of life without the need for a God to stick his oar in. Atheists such as Richard Dawkins and Sam Harris would also rejoice. The Bible would at last be thrown into the dustbin of history and mythology, and as John Lennon wrote and recorded his song - we can imagine a world without Heaven above, nor Hell beneath us, and no religion either. A perfect Utopian society.

This is what I find to be an astonishing situation. All over the world, brilliant, well educated minds abound, many engaged in creating new ideas, the latest inventions, and into medical research. Others study the stars to find out just how we got here. Still others were able to design a robotic vehicle which can carry out meticulous tasks millions of miles out in space. It is so incredible that even throughout history, we can see the wonders of the human mind and imagination. For example, around seventeen years previous to this, I found myself at The Chesters, one of the best preserved Roman sites in the UK, possibly of all of Europe other than the ruins of ancient Rome and Pompeii. The Chesters was a major Roman fort on Hadrian's Wall which marked the northern boundary of the entire Empire. What I have found intriguing were the well-preserved latrine system, a set of holes at a bench where water used to flow in a channel underneath. Also there was evidence of sanitary items existing. The whole structure would be still fully functional to this day had the watercourse beneath had not dried up. As with the Roman city of Aquae Sulis (now Bath Spa) the Romans were superb with plumbing and the hypocaust heating systems for their homes, their utility buildings, and their leisure centres.

 

Chesters Roman Fort, Hadrian's Wall, UK.

 

What a difference all this to our nearest cousins, the Primates, from which we supposed to have evolved from. It has been observed that the best they can do is use a large stone to crack a nut. It is a far cry from even the simplest of structures even a child can make. But our academics prefer to believe that we as Homo Sapiens are members of the Primate family, at one with the monkeys, apes, gorillas and chimpanzees. In the world of science, the Bible is ruled out.

It is this hostility to the truth of the Bible which lie behind the Rosetta space probe, along with other branches of science, particularly in Historical Geology and Paleontology. The universities in Britain and Europe became an intellectual battlefield particularly during the nineteenth century, with the likes of Charles Lyell, Jean Baptiste Lamarck, and Charles Darwin, along with others, throwing down the gauntlet against the Biblical truth of Divine Creation. Of all literature ever written throughout history, it seems odd to me that the truthfulness of Holy Scripture had so much opposition thrown at it, yet we as a nation hold a reverential respect for the highly educated, and applaud them for the ability in launching rockets into space, particularly for the purpose to disprove the reliability of the Bible.

Maybe the near-universal hostility of Scripture might have been stirred up by passages like this:

For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written:
I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate.
Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of the age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?
For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believed.
Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness o God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength.
1 Corinthians 1:18-25.

Spot on, Paul! Maybe it was because of what you have written that clever men of our age had sent a very expensive, highly technical device to look at a lump of rock in the sky.