The Boy in every Man Just won't Go.

Today I write this as my beloved is resting next to me. As she goes through chemotherapy after a single mastectomy, she remains stable. All part of married life. After all, we both fully remember the vows we had taken on our wedding day as we placed our rings on each other's finger: 

For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death us to part.

To which our church pastor responded.

You are now husband and wife.

On that special day, I knew deep within that things were never going to be the same again. And such reminders came as prophetic dreams in my sleep, soon after the honeymoon was over. And one I remember so vividly, that across nearly twenty years, I'm still able to relate this dream as clearly as if it had occurred only last night:

I dreamt that I was standing near the check-in desk at Heathrow airport. But I wasn't on my own. Rather, I was with my father and his older brother, a strict Warrant Officer at the Royal Air Force. We were there not to board a plane but as if awaiting the arrival of somebody. The timing of the dream was set in the then-present day, around the year 2000, however, both Dad and Uncle looked as they were in the 1960s, relatively young, and therefore totally out of sync with the year I was meant to be in. And so, if I stirred or said something out of place, my Uncle's response would have been something like Quiet! or None of your cheek! - in a stern tone of voice.

My feelings in the dream were indescribable. Those feelings were from the pounding memories and a crushing longing for the clock to turn back three years. Because three years earlier I was standing at that very same spot, alone, with a rucksack strapped over my shoulders. I was checking in to board a flight to Singapore, which was the first call on the real-life 1997 Round-the-World trip, the second and third being the Queensland resort of Cairns and Los Angeles respectively. In the dream, I even saw the same Earls Court YHA hostel I stayed at on the eve of the flight. Seeing it again three years later whilst standing between Dad and Uncle has rubbed salt into an already emotionally-charged wound.

Two more similar dreams I had soon after the wedding were based on the same theme. In one dream I found myself on board a bus as it sped along the M4 westbound. From it, I was able to see Heathrow Airport as it sped past. As with the first dream, in this one too, I had that gut-wrenching feeling of regret, and the wanting to be there, checking in, and yet knowing that will never happen again. And whilst asleep the third time I found myself standing, alone, outside one of the terminals of Heathrow Airport. It was a solid wall, brilliant white and reflecting the sunlight, yet with no doors or even windows conveying the message that I couldn't enter the building anymore, despite my longing desire to do so.

Three dreams, all different, yet telling the same message. That is, one chapter of my life had closed and another chapter, one with far greater responsibilities, had opened.

Which could bring the reader to ask, Am I happy in my marriage or have I any regrets?

The answer to that is Yes, I am very happy in our marriage and I have no regrets in marrying my beloved. That is because we are deeply in love with each other, and the intention for both of us is to make it last until one of us is called home. Yet our wedding day did mark the death of something very dear to me - long-haul intercontinental travel.

I have often thought about this. At present I could ask, am I really interested in returning to the airport to check-in for another long-haul flight? Or has interest whittled away over the years as I fulfil my role as a husband? Really, coming to think of it, we are quite fortunate to travel overseas after getting hitched. Together as a married couple, we have visited Israel, Lanzarote, Rhodes, Kos, Paris, Brussels, Sicily and Malta. We have also sailed to Jersey and to the Scilly Isles - if these islands can be classed as overseas. We went to Rhodes for our honeymoon and we went back there to celebrate our tenth anniversary. And we intended to return for our twentieth. Due to illness, this is not to be. Instead, another trip to Brussels by Eurostar to visit the Old City is on the cards. 

This love for travel is what psychologists refer to as the boy in every man. Let's face it, we men don't really grow up at all, as lurking within all of us is a fun-loving boy. There's nothing negative about the boy in every man - I think God has included him in his initial creation.

As such, I find it all amusing to read about when, on one particular weekend in the seventies, a well-known church leader returned home, wheeling a brand-new motorcycle into his yard. His wife then turned to her daughter-in-law and said,

My dear, there is only one difference between a man and a boy - the man's toys are more expensive.

Fortunately for that family, the wife took it well, as he and his son often rode out into the desert on their bikes for that exhilarating experience of open-air freedom, the leaving behind of all responsibilities involved in pastoring a church. Or the case of the same leader's father, many years earlier. Just before one Christmas, he young lad spotted a wrapped present tucked away in the cupboard. Peeking into it, he discovered that it was a radio-controlled model aeroplane. However, he never saw his present again, and he forgot all about it. It was years later, after marrying and having children of his own when he remembered the present, and he asked his mother about it.

She burst out laughing and explained that on that Christmas eve, his father could not resist the temptation. He took the plane out of the cupboard and assembled it. He took it to the beach and flew it out into the night. He flew it alright, it splashed into the Pacific Ocean and lost it forever!

It's the boy in the man who causes him to shake his Christmas present, trying to find out what's inside.

It's the boy in the man who takes a chocolate truffle out of the box before presenting it for his wife's birthday.

It's the boy in the man who plays with his son's train set on Christmas day.

It's the boy in the man who rides a shopping trolley down the hill late at night.

It's the boy in the man who compels a policeman on duty to slide down a children's helter-skelter when he thinks no one is looking.

It's the boy in the man who has compelled 18th Century evangelist John Wesley to ride on his horse early every morning.

It's the boy in the man which made an elderly Royal bodyguard scowl with envy as he watches a young lifeguard slide down a newly-installed adventure flume as a demonstration to the visiting Royal who is declaring the facilities open. And this incident cannot be any truer as the photo was published in a local newspaper.

It's the boy in the man who pesters his wife to buy him an electric train set. He was one of my regular customers and a doctor by profession.

It's the boy in the man who compelled me to go out and buy an electric train set, and whilst carrying it home, explained that it was for my (non-existent) son to a group of sniggling female teenagers.

I know of a couple of adult men who own train sets. They tend to lay it out, run the train around the layout, then pack it away. Then again, I know of one male adult who takes his hobby more seriously, creating his layout into a mini-landscape. Some men have taken years to build their layout with utmost seriousness. As for me, I have added a station to my train set so I can watch with a thrill as the train races non-stop through the station! Oh, the boy in me.

The boy in me who loves train sets. The boy in me who loves being onboard a fast train. The boy in me who would fly halfway around the world to take pictures of tropical vegetation, among other things an exotic scenery can offer. The boy in me who compelled me to try out all the newly-installed adventure flumes at our local Coral Reef water world - for scientific research, of course! One fortunate enough to have a loving, understanding wife who has realised that "a night out with the boys" is actually good for the marriage, making it more robust.

And this is something I would encourage all wives. That is, not to stifle the boy lurking within your husband. According to the testimony of others, the understanding wife who is okay with letting the fun-loving boy come out of the man is the one who will also enjoy a richer, more loving relationship than the scolding henpecker who is more likely to drive her husband into the arms of another woman. However, there are issues.

During my courting days, I hit upon a crossroad. I had a stark choice. Should I marry this pretty sweetheart of mine sitting across the apartment? Or should I remain single and making use of the Trailfinders magazine I had in my hand - the one which carries ads for Round-the-World backpacking deals as well as testimonies from those who had accomplished them? That was when I proposed to her and having accepted, I tore up the magazine in front of her to say that I will be fully committed.

But having made the right decision, I do regret not abling to travel long-haul anymore, hence the dreams I had. But although I still dream of travel up to the present, these dreams don't have such an effect as they did in the past. And the fact that we hope to travel to Brussels for the day - this proves that although I might have tried to run away from the bug, it has never left me - at least this time it's to visit the Old City, whilst last time it was to visit the EU Parliament Museum.

Flumes at Coral Reef Water World, Bracknell.

However, there is one downside, the wrong reason for continuous long-haul travel. I know a good Christian friend who goes out on his own to work projects in various continents, leaving his wife at home.  These trips are usually just a month in duration, but I have also known him to be away for up to three months apiece on one or two occasions. On the surface, this looks to be a good way of following Jesus Christ in obedience. And indeed, I don't doubt whether God has called him to serve him in this way. I prefer to believe that he is walking in obedience to God's calling. However, I'm also aware of him feeling trapped in a loveless marriage, something which he had admitted in the past. 

Among other things, had she stifled the fun-loving boy character which is quite prominent within this man? Indeed, I have wondered whether his long-duration trips are a way to escape home responsibilities rather than face the more difficult task of seeking a full restoration, or whether this serious, computer-literate, home-based businesswoman has simply made the possibility of such a reconciliation more difficult to attain?

It's the kind of situation I would never want to be in. Yet I can feel sympathetic towards this friend of mine. If Alex was to turn against me and declare that she doesn't love me anymore... I dread just to think about it.

Yet I know it won't happen. It will never happen. One reason is that she sees the boy in the man and respects him. Allowing the boy in the man to come out and enjoy a bit of fun is one way to preserve a loving marriage relationship which will stand up against any tribulation which life throws at it.

A Wise Exhortation

Just two weeks before Christmas I attended a Sunday nuptial of the daughter of a long-standing friend of mine who is also my accountant. Being a Sunday wedding, it commenced within an hour after the end of our normal church service, at our own church building approximately two miles from the spacious Ascot Racecourse restaurant where we meet each week, hence necessitating a cycle ride between the two venues, as I don't hold a driving licence. Thus, as I sat next to a smartly dressed, lordly-looking elderly couple, I surveyed the fully-packed sanctuary, and saw that I was one of just three adult men who wasn't wearing a tie, and by the looks of it, the only one not wearing a suit either. 

It wasn't so much an act of rebellion against stuffy English custom as suffering an unpleasant sense of neck constraint whilst cycling and creating body heat and eventual opening of the sweat pores. Well at least nobody, as far as I was aware of, looked on me with a condescending countenance. As I sat there, perhaps with a feeling of being out-of-place at such a formal occasion, I made an effort of introducing myself to the elderly stranger I was sitting next to, his halitosis testing my own stoicism not to screw up my face in repulsion. As I waited for the bride to be escorted into the church by her father, I was pondering on how the wife of this gentleman sitting next to me can share his bed each night in each other's arms without being put off by such bad breath.

The ceremony itself went smoothly according to plan. Then, after the address was delivered by a graduate of Royal Holloway College, an annexe of London University, it was time for anyone in the congregation to deliver a prayer, a prophecy or anything God has laid on his heart for edification to the newly-weds. This was the moment I felt a strong urge building within me, and had I restrained myself out of politeness or some other English etiquette, I would have felt deep regret over a missed opportunity.

Without standing up so not to attract visual attention, I warned the nuptials that after their honeymoon is over and they have returned to the real world, in addition to enjoying good things, their marriage will be tested to the limit, but  their ability to overcome and become victorious depends on how much they are committed to each other and to God. So by addressing the groom by name, I exhorted him to love his wife with 100% of heart, and then encouraged her to be submitted to him as head of the household, just as Christ is the head of the church. Then I encouraged them to read the Bible every day. Because it is through daily reading of the Bible is where victory in a robust marriage has its roots. Then I wished them God's blessing of a successful marriage.

Perhaps I should have added that there are strong opposing forces in the air which would give their hardest to break up their marriage, a truth which would have opened further encouragement to put on the armour of God, as Paul had instructed the church in Ephesus (6:10-18). I needn't have worried. There were a number of other guests who approached me after the service in commendation for the exhortation, indicating that it must have carried some punch. Rather than to give in to temptation to feel proud, I acknowledged the power and the grace of God to speak through me when he could have easily chosen somebody else - someone who was more appropriately dressed for the occasion.

Indeed, God chose me out of undeserving grace, but I could ask why I was chosen, and how was it that my exhortation carried such a punch. It does not take rocket science to answer that one. It was out of experience of my own marriage to Alex for nearly two decades. Adverse forces in the air could have destroyed our marriage some twelve years earlier. That was when I was given a choice by a social worker that I could raise my two daughters on condition that I separate from my wife. I had refused to separate, having stuck to the vows we made before God and to the congregation in the very same church at our nuptials. All these dreadful events were due to the assumption made by our child supporter that Alex was not up for parenting due to her being on the mild autism spectrum, as I am too. This is why I have a long-standing hunch against the self-confident, well-educated professional. They have the legal power to destroy a family, and if they see fit, they can obtain a Court order. As it was, the Social Worker responsible was incredibly arrogant, self confident, even patriotic, as well as downright nasty, yet she was still unable to discern our autism despite her university degree and training. As a result, I was very reluctant to respond and even on one occasion ordered her out of the house.

My raging anger towards that professional career-girl lingered for months afterwards as I was wallowing in shame as I watched Alex occasionally break down into tears. It took several years before finally forgiving her in my heart. But before then there was one thing that I would never let go, and that was having faith in God. And this faith in God was sustained by daily Bible reading, normally after breakfast whilst still in bed. This became the bedrock for a robust and healthy marriage between us after the loss of our two daughters. 

Daily reading of the Holy Scriptures. Like the noble Bereans checking their Scriptures to verify what Paul was preaching concerning the crucified Jesus of Nazareth being the risen Christ (Acts 17:11). Perhaps the Bereans missed out on having devotionals such as Every Day with Jesus, or something similar. I am aware that there are many Christians who start their day with one of these, designed I believe, to cover the whole year. But as I see it, these devotionals hinder proper reading of the Bible rather than promote it. Just the other day someone has shown me a very similar devotional. On each page was just one verse of Scripture confined to a small box whilst the rest of the page carried the author's commentary on the verse together with a suggested prayer. To me, that is not allowing the Word of God to dwell in me richly (Colossians 3:16) - in order to build the big picture from which each verse is just a single piece of the jigsaw puzzle. As an example, the one who had shown me the devotional, even being a Christian after many years, wasn't even properly acquainted with the 53rd chapter of Isaiah, one of the most life-changing passages in the entire Bible. 

This makes me very sad, as I'm very fond of this individual, and I want the best for him. As for me, reading a whole chapter every morning before rising is unbeatable. Pure Bible reading unhinged by anyone else's commentary, remarks or exhortations. Just allowing Scripture to speak for itself. Usually it's selecting a book from either the Old or the New Testament and reading a chapter of it each day. But lately, I have decided to read the entire Bible from cover to cover by reading a chapter each day. This is to ensure that on the day I depart, not a single tittle or iota remains unread. So far, starting at Genesis 1:1, I have at present arrived at the 3rd chapter of Paul's letter to the Romans, after thoroughly enjoying reading the Acts of the Apostles.

I can testify that thorough Bible reading has given me strength and hope for what the future holds for us, especially as the UK is about to leave the European Union, as discussed in my last post. Having faith in God is diametrically opposed to the unholy triplet of pride, self-confidence and optimism, which I have seen and read about thriving in the hearts of many who have voted to leave the E.U. - the key issue here being the word self. Trusting in ourselves on the national level to reach, so to speak, to the heavens, just as the builders of the Tower of Babel did a long time ago - instead of trusting in the love, grace, and the mercy of God. Allowing the Word of God to dwell in us richly, so I have found, has given me a level of hope for the future, it has taken away all anxieties over our daughters, committing them into God's care as hoping that their adopted parents raises them up in a godly manner. It has strengthened our own marriage, and furthermore - constant reading of the Bible has literally raised my intelligence quotient, opening new sources of knowledge where my younger days amidst school-tie culture had so miserably failed. Subjects such as history - both ancient and recent, biology - particularly the genome, and geology - particularly covering volcanism and sedimentary strata, all becoming very relevant to me after getting to know the Bible.

My fascination with God's commitment to one particular city, that of Jerusalem, the Cup of Trembling for all the nations of the world (Zechariah 12:1-3) - has given me several opportunities to not only visit but to have a taste of living in the heart of the city where God has put his Name there forever - was borne out of devoted reading and getting acquainted with the Bible. It has also raised a golden opportunity to fulfil my wife's dream to visit the city for herself whilst up to four months pregnant with our first daughter. Getting acquainted with the Bible has made me come to realise the significance of Jerusalem in the way God sees it, by comparison with much bigger cities such as Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York - all three built on the coastline, or London, Paris and Berlin, all built on major rivers. Jerusalem is neither on the coast nor on a river. Originally it was a walled settlement no larger than a modern city square at the time it was conquered from the Jebusites by King David, and has become the capital of Israel ever since. It is to this city where Jesus will one day return to reign on his father David's throne.

Reading the Bible has made me have a deep respect for the Jew and the nation of Israel. As for one, I would not take kindly to anyone who speaks against the Jewish people, whether it is to tease them or to deny the reality of the Holocaust. Neither would I allow anyone to hint that the Jews are racially inferior to non-Jews living in the West, like Adolf Hitler did in the past, or for the English Far-Right groups do at present - without a challenge. While getting to know the Bible, it didn't take me long to realise that the Jewish people were - and still are - and always will be, God's people chosen from the nations whose homeland is in Israel, with the fortress at Hebron marking the site of the Cave of Machpelah bearing witness to this as an everlasting sentinel. It is in this underground cave where Abraham and his wife Sarah; Abraham's son Isaac and his wife Rebekah; and Isaac's son Jacob and his wife Leah; were all buried there. The most significant about these six people is that they were the founding families of the nation of Israel, with even the Hebrew name YISRAEL being the acronym of their initials (except the initial E for Elohim, a name for God himself, indicating that God dwells in the midst of his people, and also making a total of seven letters - seven being God's number). As the Bible itself had prophesied a long time ago that the Jews will be scattered globally for nearly two millennia, (e.g. Deuteronomy 28:64-68) - this fortress, built by Herod the Great and completed in 6 BC, has stood as a permanent sentinel ever since, testifying to the historicity of the Bible.

Also becoming familiar with Holy Scripture has helped me understand not only the attributes of God himself, but also to take a position on various theological issues. For example, unless I know the Bible well enough, I could never stand up to the arguments the Jehovah's Witnesses would put up against the truth of the Trinity at my front door. Or for that matter, my advocating of Once Saved Always Saved would never stand to see the light of day unless of my familiarity with fulfilled Old Testament prophecy enabling me to see the omniscience of God.

There is everything to gain from daily reading of the Bible, and absolutely nothing to lose, not even precious time if you have overslept or in a hurry to go out. According to my own experience, a daily reading has never disrupted my day's schedule.

This is my exhortation to all readers for the start of the year. Make it a habit to read the Bible each day. It is more beneficial to the soul than any medication can give.