Bring Back "Band of Brothers!"

Encounter is a midweek meeting held at what was Bracknell Baptist Church, now renamed, The Kerith Centre, after the original church building was demolished, to be replaced by a much larger meeting venue with a capacity of a thousand people. Its American megachurch-style interior might have been borrowed from Bill Hybel's 7,095-seat Willow Creek Community Church in the Chicago district of Barrington. Both the Kerith Centre and Willow Creek are very similar in architecture.

Interior of Willow Creek Community Church, Chicago.

For the midweek Encounter meeting, the plush interior is converted into a cafeteria or coffee house with several round tables laid out, with each table holding up to six people. How many people turn up each week varies, but taking a rough guess, I wouldn't be that far of the mark if I were to say about sixty. Sometimes it could be just half that.

And so, this week I was invited by a friend to attend a meeting. We were looking for a place to sit when I saw one table occupied by just one person. I then said, Oh look, there's James. Let's join him.

James merely nodded when we joined him at his table. As the thirty-minute slot for chatting over refreshments gave way to a time of worship, and then the main preach, it was as if James thought that he was the sole occupant of our table. Except when he rose, donned his facemask to walk over to the coffee server some 5-10 metres from where he sat. He then returned with his refill and kept his mask on until he was fully seated.

It was one of those occasions when I felt tempted to ask whether his mask was to protect us or himself. Had he said, to protect us, then I would ask why he wasn't protecting us while we sat at his table by immediately donning his mask as soon as we arrived, or even asking us not to sit at his table in case we get infected. But had he answered, to protect me, I could have asked him whether the virus discriminates between one who is sitting down from one standing up. 

Instead, we both kept quiet. I knew James since he arrived at Bracknell from University in the early 1980s. Only a tad younger than me, yet a brilliant academic, and an ideal candidate for membership with Mensa. And he's also on the autistic spectrum. And he wasn't alone. My friend with me also had Asperger's Syndrome and like James, he was educated to gain a doctorate degree. And then there was me, making up the three at that table. According to a psychotherapist who once spent three hours testing my intelligence quotient, I too have a slightly higher-than-average level of intelligence, along with Asperger's. The main difference between the three of us was that I never saw the inside of a university.

But looking back, in truth, my whole life was, and still is, a university, constantly learning something new. The only difference between these two friends and me is that I don't hold a sheet of paper bearing my academic credentials to impress any potential employer. But unfortunately, our society is geared on that piece of paper. It gives the holder a greater sense of personal and social worth than to the one without it.

Hence, as I had mentioned before this week, the rate of suicides is not only the highest among British men, but it's their biggest killer, exceeding that of cancer and heart failure. And the rate of suicides is almost certainly among the working classes, especially among those who have neither any qualifications nor a proper job.

James is one of those who are academically bright, is on the Autism Spectrum, yet remains single even up to his seventh decade of life. Yet, behind his veil of British stoicism and intellectual prowess, I can detect his underlying sadness, especially during this week's Encounter meeting. Not having married until I was 47, I can understand the sense of loneliness generated by the silence of being the sole occupant of his home, with the only contact with another person or group of people is vicariously through television or radio. James is not the only singleton I know personally. Whilst writing this blog, I was able to make a list of all men I know or once knew who never married. I came up with twelve names, all within a few years of my age, and two who were older than me.

Of the twelve, ten are Christians who are all alive today. The remaining two included an outstanding athlete who shone in both track and cross-country footraces during the late 1960s and into the seventies. This handsome athlete, qualifying as "the ideal bachelor open for any female to date" is still around today. The other non-Christian was ten years my senior, gay, and one of the Royal Life Saving Society's outstanding candidates, one of the few who, during the 1970s, successfully achieved the elusive, top of the range Award of Distinction. The last time I saw him was quite a few years ago and even then he looked aged and dishevelled. I wouldn't be surprised that, although he might have moved to a different area of the UK, there's that possibility of no longer being with us.

How can I describe our society's attitude towards the churches? Within the universal worldview of Darwinism having been set in stone, anyone believing in the Young Earth Creationism isn't taken with any level of seriousness but may be regarded as a nutter, one who hangs on to pseudoscience to maintain his religious beliefs that are out of touch with the real world. Thus, as someone once wrote, a typical church is viewed as a near-empty building on a Sunday morning, with a few addle-headed elderly crouching on their walking sticks and with a bat or two hovering inside the roof.*

Paul McCartney's 1966 pop song Eleanor Rigby reflected the attitude towards the church during those days. In verse 2, the lyrics were:

Father McKenzie,

Writing the words of a sermon no one will hear -

No one comes near -

Look at him working -

Darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there -

What does he care?

Rest in Peace, Church.

Did you know that, rather than gloating over the church's demise as I did during my teenage days when the song was released, I now find it so heartbreaking? Here is the Body of Christ, the Gate to Heaven, the Source of Hope, left to die whilst the busy, unbelieving world marches on under the banner of Charles Darwin and the constant development of advancing machinery, until the day comes, as Eleonor Rigby died alone and of old age, and was buried alone in her grave with no one else attending, so the church too, awaits its burial with nobody caring.

And now, with the war in Ukraine, people are turning to God in prayer - prayer for the war to end, prayer for Ukraine to remain as an independent, sovereign state, prayer for peace to remain across the whole of Europe, hope that World War III won't break out. Indeed, it takes a threat of warfare for the world to resurrect the church! If only the churches would lay on specific meetings to cater for people's particular needs in the modern world.

And that includes the men's meeting that came in various forms and which I often attended. One was the Friday morning men's group at Bracknell Baptist Church back in the early 1980s. It was the one chance when first-time neophytes were given the chance to preach. The sermon was then followed by the critique delivered by the senior pastor. The critique was the part most looked forward to by the group, as the pastor never minced his words but came out direct and to the point. 

Then there was the Saturday morning Men's Breakfast, held every six weeks at Ascot Life Church. Here, anyone was allowed to give a talk if approved by the Elders, and there was no critique to follow! Like this, I was allowed to give a talk on the Cave of Machpelah in Hebron and how important that is to the nation of Israel. The talk seemed to have gone down well.

At about the same time, my father-in-law was keen to drive me over to Christchurch Anglican in Virginia Water, a very well-to-do village ten miles 16.2 km east from my home. Here, far more attended the monthly Saturday men's breakfast. It was well organised, the food was very good, but lacked the personal touch that characterised a smaller meeting. Those who were strangers tended to remain strangers, although I made an effort to make one or two friends. However, the post-meal preaching was good and practical to our daily lives.

Then, also before and right up to the start of the pandemic, we men at Ascot Life Church met at an Indian restaurant nearby for a social over a meal together. Known as Curry Nights, it was guaranteed that my beloved would turn away from my foul-smelling breath after getting into bed, but the social value in those evenings out together as men was good and edifying for the whole church.

However, probably the men's meeting I considered the best was the Saturday morning Band of Brothers, which used to be held at the Kerith every four months, or three meetings annually. Unfortunately, that too, folded up some time before the pandemic, so the virus was not to blame for its demise, but as I suspect, due to lack of support or its gradual decline of attendance.

I recall at the start of one meeting when there was a long table laid out, banquet-style, along one side of the main sanctuary. One chap was sitting there, his back was turned to me as I approached from behind, and jokingly asked, May I nick your piece of toast?

To which he replied, You touch my toast and you will replace it with four pieces! - he answered with a degree of sternness, quoting from Exodus 22:1. Then he recited, That reckless Itai! What can I do with that reckless Itai? several times as I made my way to collect my serving and laughed at the same time. And that's the whole basis of these men's groups: to build and maintain relationships.

And the sermon can be dynamically life-changing. For example, forgiveness. To hold a grudge against someone causes the adrenal glands to pump out its toxin into the bloodstream, eventually bringing illness. But to forgive the offender is not for the offender's sake but for your own sake. Even if the offender has long disappeared out of your life, to refuse to forgive will only ruin your health, not the health of the offender! The main reasons to forgive are not only it's pleasing to God but you will enjoy health benefits. 

Such was the style of preaching heard during the Band of Brothers men's meetings.

By my observations, these meetings are generally shunned by singletons. Indeed, it's true that these adult men's meetings cater primarily for married men, how to improve the marriage relationship and that with your children. Single men weren't interested. Thinking of James, I can't recall him turning up for any of these meetings. Instead, the church had also laid on the single groups, a weekly get-together following the Sunday evening service. The formality soon fell apart due to a lack of commitment and ended up as a mere social, normally at the home of a different host each week by a rota system.

I can understand why. The singles were labelled apart from adults, indicating that one doesn't reach adulthood until his wedding day regardless of age. To me, this was a horrible misnomer.

A banqueting table like this one is ideal for men's socials.

I firmly believe that meetings such as Band of Brothers or equivalent hold an important place at any church. During these difficult days when pandemics and threats of war are ripping through the fabric of life, Christian men should get together for the triune order of worship, teaching and fellowship, and furthermore even invite non-Christians or leave the option open for them to feel welcomed.

Now that the pandemic is waning, maybe it's time for us to think these things over and see to organising.

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*Michael Green, You Must be Joking, 1976, Hodder & Stoughton. 

  

Give and Take - Is Life Unfair?

Sometime back in the 1970's I stood alongside a blond young man at what was then Bracknell Baptist Church. We were looking at what was the Birth Roll, a framed sheet detailing the names of babies born to parents attending this church for the last ten years, maybe twenty or more years, whatever. We got into a conversation which somehow led up to what he said I perceived was an astonishing statement:

God is unfair!

Naively, I gasped as if in horror with what I had just heard. However, as the rest of my life's experiences had taught me, he was proved to be right.

Bracknell Baptist - attended 1975-1989. Now the Kerith.

Often I have wondered whether regular church attendance or becoming an official member was actually psychologically detrimental. This was a train of thinking which had never ceased running but chugs on and on, over the forty-plus years I have been attending church. However, my ongoing attendance to this day remains from my conviction that the "church" is not the odd-looking building which boasted a steeple (Bracknell Baptist never had a steeple, let alone boasting a bell!) Neither a weird and rather unrealistic place where Tory members are on their knees, praying and singing to some invisible "big man" up there in the sky. 

During the years between 1975, when I first joined, and 1989 when I finally left, we had a very pragmatic and rather authoritarian Welsh pastor with a team of deacons under him. Maybe this was a phenomenon I understood. He was rather short in stature which was substituted by a super-extrovert temperament which was the backing to ensure that his strong sermons were listened to, then applied from Monday morning onwards by everyone who was in the auditorium - sometimes known as "mechanical application" of the sermon into the lifestyle of the hearer. I recall during one particular Sunday preach when two youngsters, either late teenage or in their early twenties, sharing a joke or discussing something between themselves. The pastor pointed his finger at them and ordered the pair to listen to what God is saying. Memories of the school classroom.

No one would dare question his mode of preaching. Well, one close friend of mine tried, when he suggested that he should be more theoretical in his sermon content. His blunt response was that he preaches what he wants to preach. In other words, like it or lump it. Not surprising that he left before I did, along with quite a number who also walked out permanently.

However, all the deacons, who eventually metamorphosed into elders, and then into department heads over the last half-century, were convinced that this former pastor, who has since retired and moved away, was a man of God, almost to the point of infallibility. In the early 1980's he broke his church from the Baptist Union of Great Britain to affiliate itself with Coastlands, the forerunner of New Frontiers International, headquartered in Brighton. He also associated himself and his church to Bill Hybels, founder and senior pastor of Willow Creek Community Church in Chicago, to where our leader flew to several times. With a staunch capitalist and a believer in Eternal Security for a pastor, my former church began to grow in numbers, and with the influx of many graduates moving into town, the congregation doubled in size, if not trebled.

But throughout those fifteen years, I began to feel uncomfortable. And that despite being in agreement with most of his beliefs and teaching. Looking back, I know that his preaching style began to be centred on buying land to build a new church, a much bigger one to accommodate a thousand people, perhaps still short of the 7,095-seat capacity of Willow Creek Worship Center, but still in the right direction. Therefore it came as no real surprise that just about every other sermon was about tithing and even double-tithing, the former which I did for a while before feeling drained spiritually, emotionally and financially.

Although a great many churches preach tithing, whether affiliated or independent, and I practised it myself for a considerable time, I always felt ill-at-ease. And that despite one piece of Scripture was always quoted to justify the practice. It's Malachi 3:6-12 where the nation of Israel was accused of robbing God. Depriving the Temple and its staff of resources vital for sacrifices and temporal atonement for sins committed on both individual and national scale is one thing. To give money so that the pastor can fly to and from Chicago and also to fulfil a building project dream is quite another.

Tithing was never made compulsory at Bracknell but it was strongly encouraged by the pastor, yet done in a way in believing that if I don't tithe, then I'll be "robbing God." It was a psycho con-trick, to feel guilty of not fulfilling a duty with a mistaken belief that I was a thief and the worst kind at that! By practising it, I felt that I was no longer living under grace but felt bound up by the Law. Somehow, I felt things just weren't right and therefore I left the church in 1989, to join Ascot Baptist in 1990 after a few months without church altogether.

The real beauty of the church is that it's the Body and Bride of Christ. I suppose that's why I'm always drawn to it. I would say that it's my second home or my spiritual home. And within that context, God loves a cheerful giver. And being a cheerful giver isn't about tithing because I have to, or because the pastor says I should. Rather, to give cheerfully is to give what's in my heart. Here, under grace, I believe that there aren't any "You must..." or "You must not..." If a person wishes to give to the church and he is happy about that, then that is good. Likewise, if another person gives for the purpose of the pastor going away for a holiday abroad, then that too is good. There is nothing wrong with that idea. If there is yet another who wishes to give away all his income to the church or to charity or to both, then that is also good. But he should not have a judgement towards anyone who gives very little or nothing at all, for that form of intimacy is between the person involved and God himself.

It's all about grace, which here in the UK the word itself has become an acronym for Gift Received At Christ's Expense. Indeed, if God was fair, then nobody would go to Heaven! God is holy and we are not. Therefore, in his justice, everyone ever born is destined for Hell, no matter how that person lived in life. Even a good person. That's absolutely fair, isn't it? After all, all one has to do is stumble at just one minor point and he is destined for eternal death, having broken the Law. God cannot stand sin, no matter how little.

Absolutely fair? Really?

Perhaps not. Therefore, in his love, he set out to redeem us. And by sending his beloved Son to die on a Cross to atone for all our sins, the righteousness of the risen Christ is imputed into every believer. God sees every true Christian believer as equally righteous as Jesus Christ himself! This is a free gift, given to everyone who believes. It cannot be earned, nor can it be sustained by the believer himself. Rather, it's God who both saves the sinner and then keeps him, sustaining his faith as a regenerated Christian saint, a son of God, a new creation.

Therefore, if I don't tithe, then I'm not a thief, neither am I robbing God! How can I rob God if He himself has paid the full price for my shortcomings? How can I be called a thief if God has already declared me righteous in Christ? Therefore, if I want to give, that is a privilege God himself will take delight in because it's from my heart and not under compulsion.

And here comes something of a contradiction. Jesus promises joy to all believers, according to John 15:11. But I wish this promise is more realistic in life! I can't say it is, though. Let's see:

After five years of a happy marriage, we lose our daughters to adoption in February 2005, due to both of us having Aspergers.

We suffer years of a terrible loss. Then suddenly, in June 2013 my beloved loses her full mobility and, after staying in a hospital as an inpatient for four months, she can only go outdoors in a wheelchair.

She suffers bouts of the extreme back, leg, stomach or head pain which before necessitated the need to call an ambulance, all this caused by a neurotic disorder. Nowadays her pains are controlled more at home by means of doses of Co-Codamol, Oramorph and other painkillers. She also suffers from other symptoms, including a fit, which needs CPR to revive her.

We have recently discovered that she has breast cancer and a need for treatment with a mastectomy. This has caused her to shed tears in front of me and wondering why God is sending one trial after another in such an endlessly long procession.

It is easy for me to get angry at God! Especially when I mix with young, healthy couples and successful students in our church - happy, contented with their lot, successful at school and heading for university, others having graduated, parents beaming with pride at their offspring's success. Students taking gap-years and enjoying a working holiday halfway around the world. Older couples revelling in their success in holding down executive jobs, having paid off their mortgage, becoming grandparents.

I cry out - Why? Why? Why? Why are others in the same church are so happy and doing so well while we are living in daily suffering? Is there a criterion they have met and we have failed to meet? If so, what is this criterion? Tithing? Well, I tried that and I experienced bondage rather than freedom. Born middle-class? Quite a point, that! But I prefer to rule that one out. But the reality is: Life is grossly unfair.

Unfair this may be, however, our very breath through our nostrils is sustained by God, just as our heartbeat. God can withdraw my life just like that, in an instant. Indeed, I have learned that every single day is a gift from God. Therefore, instead of raging at God for my lot, unfair as it may seem, I bow the knee and thank him for our daily lives and sustenance. As I watch my beloved burst into tears, usually spontaneously. I feel like crying too. All I can do is put my arms around her, draw her close and comfort her. It works. A loving hug can perform miracles!

Hugging - stock photo.

Hugging. Indeed, I was condemned to hell for hugging other people in church! I am branded as wicked and unrepentant, for not conforming to the English model of "manhood." Even one of our Elders stands in supporting this Pharisaic hypocrite, taking his side. This as put an unnecessary extra layer of a burden I don't really need, especially in the struggle to look after and care for my beloved wife.

But despite all that, all I can do is ask the Lord for grace and the ability to strengthen Alex's spirit whenever I need to. I need his grace every day. To strengthen her, to encourage her, to love her so dearly, and to prevent her from thinking that after her mastectomy she will look freakish. I ask God for the ability always to be there for her to support her, and to make and keep a firm promise never to cease loving her, but to stay as one with her as long as God gives me breath.

Prayer Is Hard Work

I called round to Tim's house one weekday evening sometime in the 1990s. Soon he served up a meal, as he often did. While sitting on one of his armchairs, I began to tuck in.
"Daddy!" cried his young daughter, "Uncle Frank did not say grace!"
I blushed slightly, expecting my mate to walk into the room scowling, for I perceived as showing a bad example to his children. Instead he had a big grin and said words to the effect, "Saying grace before meals is all religion, isn't it?"
I was relieved. The guy understood.
When I first became a Christian in 1973, I used to say grace before meals at home, before I flew the nest. It was done as an attempt to win my agnostic parents into God's Kingdom. Then on one occasion we all sat at the dinner table and after giving thanks (the only family member to do so) I immediately protested to my mother,
"Mum, you know that I don't like garlic!"
And began to pick them out.
"YOU HYPOCRITE!" My father shouted across the table. "It just goes to show what a hollow sham all this thanksgiving really is."
We both looked into each other's eyes. I knew full well he was right. Religion. After that I never said grace before meals again, except as a guest at a Christian's home.
But grace before meals is only a small portion in what is sanctimoniously called prayer. What is prayer? Truly, it means "Having a chat with God" which is a result of a good relationship.
But as a child, prayer was something quite different. While in English the word carries a religious ring to it, in the Italian language the meaning was more blunt. The Italian for Prayer is Pregare which literally means "to beg." Even in classic English, much now archaic, the original meaning of the word "pray" was used in the context, "I beg you" For an example, a request like this was most likely used,
I pray you allow me more time to repay the loan.
From my childhood days, prayer was about religion. As with grace before meals, we were taught to pray at morning assembly, something which I had to do from age five to 15, when I left school and was able to put all that pretence behind.

At junior school we were told to hold our hands together (as shown in the above illustration) and shut our eyes. Of course, I believed that if I posed otherwise, then it's not prayer. This stayed with me well into adulthood and even after my conversion. During school assembly we recited the Lord's Prayer every morning, starting with Our Father, which art in Heaven... with some feeling that God was not my Father, and in those days he wasn't. We also subconsciously associated our image of God with the strict, cane wielding Deputy Headmaster, who would cane a pupil for just talking while filing through the corridor to our classrooms. Little wonder there were a growing number of atheists particularly among the boys. I was more than glad to ditch this religious stuff the moment I walked out of the school premises for the last time in 1968.
To recap, Prayer was no more than Recital. At the Catholic Church with which I grew up, prayer was more to do with reciting the Lord's Prayer, the Hail Mary and the Act of Contrition. These were set prayers, and I had to be mindful not to get the words wrong. More devoted Catholics had the Rosary, a string of beads with which a set prayer was recited at the handling of each bead.

A traditional Rosary

A silver Rosary opened out to show its structure. A prayer is recited with each bead held.

Recital prayer is the binding force of every religion. Hindus, Muslims, Judaism, Buddhism, Roman Catholicism, even Church of England services. It is relatively easy to recite a prayer at a set time and place. It is easy for a priest to instruct a penitent to recite two "Our Fathers" and eight "Hail Marys" with the aid of a Rosary each day at 10.00am and 3.00pm.
But supposing all recital prayer is removed from our Christian lives altogether? What then? Church prayer meetings?
Going to a prayer meeting is something totally different from a lifetime of recital, especially in non-formal churches such as Baptist or Pentecostal. In these there are no fixed prayers. One imagines sitting for a hour or more, wondering what on earth is he going to pray about. It does not excite enthusiasm.
Dave Rogers, an elder at Ascot Baptist Church and a personal friend of mine, could not have been more spot on. Standing at the front, he unreservedly announced:
Prayer is hard work!
And so it is. The big issue here is what to pray about. And how to keep on praying for a full hour long after you have run out of ideas.
Furthermore, I tend to feel put down when I read or hear of the likes of Martin Luther or John Wesley so patronisingly declare that one cannot be spiritual, nor care much for God's affairs unless he prays for up to four hours every morning! Whew! Fine for a full-time minister living in a much slower, agricultural world than the fast paced service/industrial world we live in today which takes up the greater part of our working day.
Various aids were put out to help us in our prayers. One of them originated from Bill Hybels, Senior Pastor of Willow Creek Community Church, near Chicago. He formulated ACTS, taken from the name of the New Testament book. It is an acronym, and when the code is unscrambled, we get this:
Adoration
Confession
Thanksgiving
Supplications
Although this formula, no doubt have been a help for many in their prayer lives, it is a formula. Therefore there is a tendency to turn this aid into another religious format by believing that this is the way to go about it. And this in particular when it was shown to have worked with certain or even with many individuals.
So what is prayer to me?
Personally, I find spontaneous prayer more functional than set prayer meetings. Spontaneous prayer is turning into prayer a thought that have dropped into my mind. Setting out to work in the morning, often whether its sunny or dismal, it's good to thank God for this new day, thanking him for keeping me alive to see this day in human history. Counting all that I have and thanking God for them. This kind of thanksgiving exceeds grace before meals by a long shot. Along with thanking God for food and drink, I can thank him for good health, a roof over our heads, our clothing, my spouse, my job - without we would not be able to eat - our tax credits, our holidays, and everything we have - computer, TV, cooker, microwave oven, washing machine, tumble dryer and all other utilities as well as niceties which grace our home with little luxuries.
Along with thanksgiving there at times a need to confess my sins. It is this that at times puts me off prayer. Confessing is something I feel I need to "clear the air" before settling down to prayer. Then again there are supplications, asking God for things. I don't feel it's wrong to complain to God that we are hard up and we could do with some financial uplift. Often enough, this problem resolves itself, often with an offer of extra work, or a backpayment from a client just returned from holiday or other absence.
Then there is intercession, to me the most difficult form of prayer. Difficult due to the intensity of love for this other person or group of people. It is much easier to pray for someone I love than it is for someone I don't love.
All these can be spontaneous prayer. I'm lucky enough as a self-employed worker to stop what I'm doing and start praying if such a thought drops into my mind. For those at work for an employer, this could be much harder to accomplish. Although I don't have this kind of experience, maybe jotting down on a piece of paper the passing thought before it's forgotten does not sound a bad idea.
Then my friend Dave Rogers, along with the other church elders, spend time in prayer and Bible study each morning before doing anything else. This requires being shut alone in a quiet room, undisturbed. This is praiseworthy and demonstrates a high level of self-discipline. With me, because I tend to be less strong on discipline, so far I have accomplished the Bible study bit, reading a chapter each morning. Whether this is right or not, I rely more on spontaneous prayer than fixed times.
And I should say here that the will and ability to pray comes from God in the first place. True prayer is a gift of God, not human strength, and therefore not recital. But how one conducts his walk with God is a matter between each person and God. No one in the church should judge or criticize an other's walk with God.
Prayer is hard work. Especially in fixed times. Talking to God in one sense is like talking to a parent or a friend. But when the other person replies straight away, when one finishes prayer, all there is is silence. It takes faith to believe that God has heard (paid attention) to prayer.
But for believers in Jesus Christ, having a chat with God is as essential as breathing.