Woken by a Bathroom Incident

It was a typical night around May/June 1997. Lying in bed but unable to sleep. What was that racket going on in the bathroom?

Really, I had been feeling elated. Therefore I should be sleeping like a log. Instead, I was kept awake with a sense of frustration at three in the morning by the two whispering voices, one male, the other female, emanating from the closed bathroom door, just a few feet away from my bed. Of course, I could hear what they were up to. Eventually, after everything had calmed down, I eventually dropped off.

After daybreak, I got out of bed to enter the bathroom. Instead, in the bathroom itself, I startled the young couple while they were in each other's arms, and I gasped, "Oh!"

The man looked very displeased as I walked through the door, while she looked alarmed.

Your snoring has kept us awake in the early hours of the morning! He declared with a firm and a rather angry tone of voice.

And your shagging in the bathroom has kept me awake at three this morning! If you want to shag, there is the beach just across the road! I then saw his soul as I spat out my reply with equal intensity, pointing my finger towards the direction of the street outside.

Not that the beach would have been ideal for outdoor copulation, as this particular stretch of coastline on the Australian State of Queensland was a mudflat, exposed by the low tide of the Indo-Pacific Ocean. However, she was horrified at my awareness of their activity and she quickly said that she had to go. And she stormed out of the bathroom alone, leaving him too embarrassed to say anything else, and slinked out of the washroom with his tail between his legs.

HI Hostel Dormitory, Cairns, Australia. Stayed 1997.

All this had taken place at a male dormitory of a backpacker's hostel, one of several hostels at the time, in Cairns, the gateway to the Great Barrier Reef. And indeed, after having showered, shaved and dressed, I felt my elation return as I prepared breakfast in the member's kitchen, as I was planning to board a catamaran to nearby Port Douglas for an exchange of sailing to Low Isles, one of many coral cays dotting the Coral Sea, which hugs the north-eastern coastline of Australia. There I am to snorkel over the magnificent underwater gardens of the Reef.

But going back to the previous night, this was unlike any other hostelling experience I have ever had. Obviously, there is a rich variety of nightlife in Cairns, which late-closing nightclubs and bars themselves encourage one-night stands among backpackers, I never thought such behaviour would hit the hosteling community, especially one affiliated with Hosteling International, an organisation which had received moral support from the churches, particularly here in England.

Even at the New Swedish Hostel, an unaffiliated privately-owned Medieval upper floor of dormitories set in the heart of the Old City of Jerusalem - had better morals. Here, in the early nineties, I slept in the same room with several young couples, huddling together on makeshift beds laid out by the proprietor, rather than for him to face the alternative of turning away potential paying customers. But as far as I was always aware, there has never been any "hanky-panky" among them.

But the traditional YHA-affiliated Youth Hostel has come a long way since my membership began in 1985. It was still in those days when the establishment was what it said on the tin, a place for inexpensive accommodation for school-age city youngsters to experience the benefits of the countryside. What a benefit it is when youth hostels became cheap backpackers accommodation! Gone is the traditional morning duty, when each member had to either sweep the dormitory floor, mop the bathroom or kitchen, hoover the lounge, wipe the windowsills, clean the showers, etc, all to keep costs down. With greater mobility and more money in the customer's pocket, its market was under threat unless the morning duty was dispensed with and to make these hostels more adult-compatible

Leaving Cairns for the Great Barrier Reef, 1997.

Whenever I was in the UK, Israel, Singapore, the USA, or Australia, I found that as an unmarried traveller, those hostels were excellent venues to form new friendships with other backpackers. Sometimes I received advice or a recommendation to visit a particular venue. San Diego in 1995 was a good example, where recently-made friends hinted on the Mission Beach, Sea World, and the Old Town with its Old West streets, exhibits, a bazaar and its atmosphere, all of them a fair bus ride away - and Little Italy, a self-contained Italian community in the midst of the city. Through the advice of another friend, I managed to travel south on the trolley-tram to San Ysidro to cross the border into Mexico to visit the city of Tijuana. 

I have found that the member's kitchen is the best place to start a conversation. In a hostel such as HI-San Diego, which in 1995 was sharing the same building with the YMCA, there were several cookers enclosing a space separated from the dining area. The resulting jostling with other backpackers, each of us cooking our own meals at the same time, started conversations which could lead to more serious discussions, eventually forming friendships.

Also, new friendships were made at a HI-Phoenix, a private home which the owner had converted into a hostel and had it affiliated to attract more customers. On this occasion, I made friends with a couple of young Jewish men, and in the lounge, a conversation arose on the subject of religion, which gave me the opportunity to testify about Jesus Christ. Also, New Swedish Hostel on Souk David, within the walls of the Old City of Jerusalem, was another brilliant example where the combined kitchen/dining room/lounge was contained in just one small upstairs room. Therefore, when one traveller from South Africa had asked me what I was doing in Israel, this was a golden opportunity to testify. I was overheard by other backpackers who paused from what they were doing to listen to what I had to say.

And whilst staying at a HI hostel in Boston, Massachusetts, I got into a good talk with a group of teenagers who were also staying the night. Even here in the UK, whilst cycling to Minehead in Somerset from Bracknell, while stopping over for the night at HI-Bath Spa, I found myself in conversation with some others about faith in Christ.

And this brings me to the issue here. Does it look as if I was, or am one of a very few Christian believers who dare venture out on his own? Compared to the testimonies from other church-going friends from over the years, that is quite a point!

One good friend of mine, who for his own safety I won't mention his name here, is due to fly out to Malta in due course. I thought this is great. Only a few years ago I took my wife Alex to Malta as independent travellers for a week to celebrate our 13th wedding anniversary. I remember the hotel we chose to stay in, "Which looks like a prison from the outside!" I joked to Alex, during the airport-to-hotel pre-booked transfer.

"Quiet!" My wife responded. "The taxi driver can hear you."

My friend and brother-in-Christ will be flying out to Malta with Oak Hall, a Christian organisation dealing specifically with holidays. Over the years, I have encountered one Christian graduate after another who has travelled overseas with Oak Hall, almost entirely without exception! Anything wrong with that? No, nothing wrong in itself. Except that it does give the impression of cliquishness - the classic image of Christians packing themselves together as if to guard against predators.

About to snorkel, Low Isles Cay. Dressed against sunburn. 

Perhaps the opening story of this blog could be a classic example of this kind of predatory threat. I have wondered how a typical Christian graduate would react to this couple on a one-nighter banging away in the bathroom? Or the idea of sharing a crowded dormitory with several unmarried couples sleeping together?

These same Christians who travel clique-like overseas would be the first to get on their high horses and preach against such behaviour or lifestyle. But by reading the Gospels, I don't see Jesus getting on his high horse, except to rebuke the Pharisees - highly religious people who think they are righteous before God and would judge and condemn anyone who copulates outside of marriage (among other sins.) It's those super-religious who Jesus rebukes.

Maybe I was wrong to verbally hit back at that couple in the bathroom so far away. It might have revealed my immaturity. Could I have acted this way out of envy at his ability to pick up a female and entice her into bed on their first date - a scenario which many a teenager's excitement would be aroused? Not for me, in all honesty, I was just not interested in such things. I was out there to travel. To see the world, a wonderful, undeserved gift God has given me to enjoy. Sex has no part in the equation. 

He threw a wobbly at me, I threw one back at him. That was all. Maybe I should have apologised for my snoring (even if it wasn't my fault) and sought peace. But back then I didn't think of that. I was still spiritually immature. 

Fascinating Facts, Another Year...

Another year over and a new one had just begun. And as I take a stroll outside, I thank God for allowing me to remain alive to see this particular day in human history. Yes, I thank God for just being alive. And that after considering how many people who were considerably younger than me, yet have already met their end, in many cases, unexpectantly. As the apostle James once wrote that I ought to consider the will of God when making future plans because nobody knows what's just around the corner (James 4:13-17). 

Therefore, I have come to learn over the years how precious life really is. I remember so well during my younger years how vain I felt over certain issues. The biggest was probably my position on the social stratum. Working class? Or should I say, a mere pleb? And I looked up to the middle classes with an element of envy. Maybe it was because my parents wanted to produce a successful son who would have lifted his family's social status to a higher plane. When I failed at school my parents were disappointed. Bless them. Who wouldn't be disappointed? Without a doubt, I would have loved to have seen my daughters attend university. I would have been so proud, witnessing my own offspring achieve a level I failed to achieve myself. And so it was no surprise having known how my own parents had felt.

Looking back, I have always believed that world travel has always been intrinsically linked to my social dissatisfaction. And who knows, I might not have been alone with this idea. For example, the Round-the-World backpacking trip I made in 1997 was partially inspired two years earlier by an Aussie builder who had a temporary job in the USA. When he shared his experience with me at an HI hostel in San Diego, not only did he inspire me to visit Australia myself but also reminded me of an Irish builder I had a lengthy conversation with at the backpacker's hostel in Jerusalem a year earlier in 1994. He related his experience to me of his year's contract as a construction worker in the Middle East, most likely on one of the new high-rise hotels which had back then recently sprang up in resorts such as at the Dead Sea and Eilat. 

San Diego Harbour, taken 1997.

However, my curiosity about Australia may have also been stirred a decade earlier during the mid-eighties when I was a member of a triathlon club in Reading, known as Thames Valley Triathletes. That was when a new member suddenly appeared at the swimming pool changing room. A tall, slim but very fit-looking athlete with longish hair and a high-pitched voice, he quickly made known his country of origin, and his six months stay in the UK sustained by his temporary work. What job he had I cannot at this point fully recall, but I think it was to do with computers. However, my dominant thought was, if he could travel halfway around the world, could I too? And if not, why not? In those days, after two trips to North America and to Israel in the 1970s, I was working to build my own window-cleaning business, and therefore I considered myself fortunate at that time to just cross the English Channel. Indeed, the mid-1980s was my "bleakest" decade for travel, if it can be classed in this way.

How I wished that I was more mature in Christ during those days as a singleton! Such would have saved me from much of this emotional turmoil. But I guess being in a healthy and robust marriage goes a long way towards a better sense of self-esteem. And with this heightened sense of self-worth as a husband, comes my greater appreciation of God's goodness. And when it came to retirement, a permanent ceasing of work, I knew that I had arrived at a major turning point. It was a reminder that I wasn't getting any younger, but more of the feeling of having one foot already in the grave. I guess I have achieved a new title based entirely on my present income - a pensioner.

And by my sudden realisation that I'm in this present phase of life has come a long way in my acknowledgement of God's goodness, his grace and mercy. Knowing that since gestation, my heartbeat was sustained by him together with the bloodstream in full flow, along with all other involuntary functions such as digestion, organ secretions such as from the liver, spleen and pancreas, the ability to see and hear, and (most of the time) involuntary breathing. And also the immune system, still little understood by science, and the vast complexity of the brain and nerve function, and the skeletal structure providing such an adequate framework. Then not to mention the dizzying complexity of every living cell, its nucleus being the home of the genome, the very essence of our existence. Such as admission to God's magnificent design. Indeed, if the Father saw fit to send his Son to atone for us, then we must be highly esteemed in his creative powers.

In divulging into this, during the Christmas holidays, we watched a programme on the television, A Day in the Life of Earth, presented by Dr Hannah Fry. Just by watching I caught the significance of how God remains committed to sustaining all life on our planet, even over just 24 hours. There is volcanism, for example. Usually perceived as such a destructive force if too close, even wiping out expanses of woodland as well as burying whole villages under a flow of lava. Yet, according to the programme, volcanism is one of the main forces in creating land and balances out the rate of erosion. This sort of negentropy versus entropy keeps our planet from ending up as a universal ocean. Then there is another issue which fascinated me. That is, not only oceanic tides at work to sustain life, but the moon also has an effect on land too. Known as solid earth tides, the land which we actually stand on literally rises and falls by a metre every day. Yet it remains totally unnoticeable.

Also according to the documentary, volcanism is the result of Plate Tectonics, the moving of the continents caused by radioactive decay deep under the earth's crust, of the heavier elements to lighter elements, releasing energy equivalent to 27,000 Hiroshima bombs each day.

Then the daily growth of phytoplankton in the oceans, five billion tonnes of it each day. This absorbs carbon dioxide and releases oxygen, as all plants do. There is so much of it worldwide, that literally speaking, every second breath we take is directly linked to this ocean phenomenon. Also, the presence of phytoplankton is the cause of the largest animal migration taking place daily. That is of the zooplankton which rises from the seabed each day to feed on these minute plants, therefore keeping the oxygen content in our atmosphere well balanced. 

Then the discovery of a fine dust layer deep in an ocean cave in the Bahamas was identified as from the Sahara Desert. Each day, up to 500,000 tonnes of mud dust is blown across the Atlantic Ocean to fertilize the Amazon rainforest, another sponge for carbon dioxide absorption and a vital source of oxygen. I wasn't aware of any of either of these two issues. But God is, for it was he who initiated it.

Then, by using satellite technology, it was worked out that if the growth rate of all the trees in every forest around the world were assimilated into just one tree, then each day the tree would grow by three kilometres. A very important fact considering that our lives and that of all fauna depend on the forests.

Finally, the programme focused on our planet's relationship with space. Its orbit lies within the Goldilocks Zone, that narrow path where water can be frozen, liquid and vapour all on one planet at the same time. Its satellite has a size and mass just right to keep the Earth's rotation steady and to avoid wobbling like a spinning top slowing down. In turn, the sun is one of a great many stars orbiting the core of the galaxy at a velocity of 828,000 km/hour, or 19,872,000 km every 24 hours, or approximately 12,266,667 miles each 24-hour day. In turn, the whole galaxy itself is moving through the cosmos at a velocity of 2,000,000 km per hour, or 48,000,000 per 24-hour day (approx 29,630,000 miles).

That means if at 12.00 noon today I was at a particular location in the universe, that means I will not be at the same location at twelve noon tomorrow. And never again shall I be at that same spot, even after a full year - ever again!

In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth. - Genesis 1:1.

True science provides the most fascinating facts proving that everything around me, including myself, was by intelligent design, a divine Creator. Yet most people believe that all this came about by pure chance! Amazing, coming to think of it. Really, the only difference between the majority of mankind and of Creationists such as myself is that we acknowledge God as the Creator.

This should give me the right perception for the coming year. This great God who created everything fine-tuned to perfection, is his arm too short that he cannot save? Is his ear so dull that he cannot hear? Or am I lacking faith in him? I need to look back on my life, all sixty-six years of it. Have I ever ended up homeless, naked, starving or in prolonged poor health? Have I ever lacked resources to pay my creditors? If I can answer "No" to all these questions, then I can testify that God has looked after me well, even during the days I didn't know him. Therefore he who keeps the Universe and the Earth tuned to a fine perfection, why should he not take care of us in the coming year? 

Living as a Christian is not easy. It can be quite difficult. It has always been hard and this coming year will be no exception. I have already been diagnosed with heart failure. I have to spend the rest of my life on medicine, particularly on anticoagulants. At the same time, my love for my wife Alex will always bid me to remain her full-time carer as well as a husband. She will most likely suffer episodes of intense pain. She may be in-and-out of a hospital. And on this day, as I write this, it is Sunshine Saturday, the peak time after Christmas when Britons book their summer holidays abroad. The thought of a booked vacation greatly helps in bearing the long cold "Winter block of weeks" (as I call it) which follows the end of the Christmas break and can last up to Easter.  

But with Alex's condition, and perhaps mine too, the thought of foreign travel is out of the question. Yet we both miss it, especially when foreign travel is in my genes! But by trusting God, he will fulfil the desires of our hearts without the risk of putting ourselves in jeopardy while out in a foreign country. Then again, this line of thinking could be stemming from a lack of faith in God whilst abroad. And here is the difficult bit: Am I confusing faith with presumption? I don't know unless we both have a definite revelation that it will be okay to travel and be safe.

In the meantime, I'll make it my intention to trust in God in all things and be dependent on his goodness. Like that we can't go wrong.

The Joys and Regrets of Autumn.

Autumn. Well at least according to the Meteorological Office, which makes September 1st the start of Autumn. To me, the season begins at the Autumn Equinox, when the sun is directly over the Equator, on its way towards the southern Tropic of Capricorn. Thus making the day and night exactly the same length around the whole globe, with the exception of the Polar regions, where there is a perpetual twilight of dusk at the Arctic Ocean in the North, and an equal dawn over Antarctica. And that happens around September 21st or 22nd. Not September 1st. Therefore, while this is being written, technically it's still Summer. 

And so the world turns. And at the same time, it flies through space at a set path around the Sun, its axis remains at a constant 23.5 degree tilt from vertical, giving us the seasons, essential for life. Indeed, who would ever think that this is a well-designed cosmic mechanism? Back in the 70's, I was sitting at a G.C.E. Geography lesson in an evening class when the lecturer challenged us with a question: What do our planet and a spaceship have in common? No one could answer, including me.

Of course, both fly through space and both are crewed. Damn it! Why didn't I think of that? The only difference is that the crew of the spaceship has full control of the speed and direction of the ship. As for our planet, no human has any control, despite its large population of seven billion. However, he should have added a third. That is, both are designed. After all, nobody would bat an eyelid with the idea that the spaceship was designed and built by human (or even alien) hands. But the thought that the Earth has a Designer? That is a different matter altogether. Somehow, we seem content that our planet, with its dizzying complexity of life, had come to be by absolute chance, the result of a condensation of gas and dust floating across a vast cosmic expanse, and all by sheer coincidence as well.

And so, back in July, it was a joy to see many cheerful faces walking the pedestrianised streets, to watch them relax at a Starbucks or Costa Coffee, lightly dressed in casuals. Some of the younger men showing off their chests and bare arms through a tank top, others wore crew-necks, still others with open collars. The tie was more difficult to find than an oasis in the desert, such a well-to-do cloth status symbol looks to be confined to school children, news anchormen, estate agents and insurance brokers.

Newspaper photos show beaches packed with sunbathers, many daring to venture to their waists into the sea. Meanwhile, businesses thrive with high sales of ice cream, popsicles and seaside rock. Further inland, theme parks boasting gut-wrenching roller coasters, spinners, rifle stalls and water chutes, are all experiencing overcrowding, with long queues snaking from the gates to the more thrilling rides. But as with all things, there is always the underbelly. Many who were too pessimistic over our British climate headed to the airport for a flight out to Spain, Majorca or the party island of Ibiza. 

They tell us that they fly to the sunshine to escape the wet and windy British "Summer" but really it's little more than a booze cruise, with a touch of sunburn to complement. Most make it back home in fairly good form but not without the reported minority who had to pay a visit to a hospital or even banged up for the night. There are even reports of assaults, even murder of our tourists by the locals or by other tourists.

What has happened to travel, real travel? Like the trips I made which involved hiking the Grand Canyon on the Bright Angel Trail to stand by the fast-flowing Colorado River and then looking up at the fantastic display of stars on a clear night. Or snorkelling at the Great Barrier Reef followed by time spent gazing up at the Southern Cross constellation with the whole sky streaked from horizon to horizon with the hazy band of the Milky Way. Or wading through a 2,700-year-old tunnel hewn out of solid rock deep beneath the ancient city of Jerusalem, a work of a team led by an Old Testament Biblical king. Then not forgetting the sub-tropical zoological gardens of San Diego with its spectacular canyon, nearby Sea World where I got thoroughly soaked by an orca, watching seals relax at San Francisco's Pier 39, and even admiring Vaillancourt Fountain, considered by many to be the city's ugliest monument.

Vaillancourt Fountain, San Francisco. Visited 1995.

Sure, I was not a teetotaler. I did allow myself an alcoholic drink or two, but never to excess. I did not find drunkenness to be a necessity. The sights I came to see were enough to blow my mind without the need for any stimulant! For me, just a mere sight of palm trees and cacti thriving in their own environments, the latter especially around Phoenix, Malta and Lanzarote; along with the mangroves with their roots underwater at high tide at the Pacific coast of Australia. All of these reminds me of such a beautiful world, rich with variety, which God had made for a combination of his own glory and as an inhabitation for mankind, for whom God the Son himself allowed incarnation in order to rescue us from our shortcomings.

Although when I was Down Under during June and July 1997, their "Winter" meant that it was slightly less warm, and wetter than had I gone in January, although it was in the thirties Celcius in North Queensland, but considerable cooler once in New South Wales. By the time I reached Sydney, I had to dress more heavily. But such a change in temperature from cool to hot was noticed immediately after stepping out of San Diego airport, after an overnight trans-Pacific flight to Los Angeles from Sydney. I was back in Summer. The point of all this is to emphasise the real joy of travel without the risk of drunkenness, hospital visits, a possible imprisonment, or even suffering from an assault.

And now, as I write this, another UK Summer is about to end, and Autumn is soon to begin. People have already begun to wear heavier clothing, the kids have taken their school uniform out of their wardrobes, and in the Press, reports of parents' displeasure over their school's overstrict discipline on what to wear and what not to wear begun to appear in newspapers. As some people have already complained, these articles keep on appearing around early September year after year. I guess this is part of British idiosyncrasy, this obsession with school uniform. Perhaps if I was able to rejuvenate myself to a teenager without losing a single strand of memory, I would like to walk into a school minus a tie and watch the reaction from the staff. And then if challenged, point to a nearby office and ask why most, if not all employees, can come in with their own freedom of expression. I would love to hear what the teacher or headmaster would have to say to that. 

But for me, Autumn has a wider meaning to life as a whole. It means the latter part of my life after retiring from work, a gradual decline in health, and for that matter, a greater restriction of travel. No, not quite housebound, at least not yet. For example, my original plan for this year was to take Alex to Marseilles on the south coast of France. Throughout the season, Eurostar runs trains directly from London St. Pancras to Marseilles St. Charles, passing through the Channel Tunnel. The idea was to visit the fantastic cliffs and rock formation of nearby Calanques National Park, with spectacular views delighting any landscape photographer.

But with Alex experiencing excruciating back pains, which are imminent, such a trip would be ruined, as I have to constantly monitor her condition, constantly looking out for any sign of distress. Not that the hiking trails are easily accessible to wheelchairs anyway. 

Therefore we enjoyed a train journey to North Wales instead, as this was her choice. Although feeling much safer staying in a country where any NHS hospital is free to the point of use, nevertheless, towards the end of our return journey into London, she was in agony with excruciating back pain. We left London Euston for a taxi ride to a nearby hospital where she eventually made a good recovery. But the dreadful thought of, for example, having to alight from the Eurostar train at Lyon for a dash to the city hospital, then face a mountain of French bureaucracy, and still be landed with a huge bill - this cannot bear thinking about.

As for me, in my present condition, I cannot imagine attempting another hike down into Grand Canyon. Now diagnosed with heart failure and on a lifelong course of Warfarin, this 19.2-mile return trip to the Colorado River and Phantom Ranch could do me in, especially at the last three miles up Jacob's Ladder, the series of tough switchbacks up the South Rim wall. Yet I still have some regrets. I have never tried the nearby South Kaibab Trail, which offers even more spectacular views. But as with the Calanques National Park, such a loss is something I will have to live with.

With me being well into my sixties, I always consider how fortunate I really am. Past generations were fortunate to reach this age, and if they did, it was normally visualised as a white-haired gentleman smoking a pipe, confined to his armchair in front of a blazing coal-fire and surrounded by his grandchildren. Rather how one in his mid-eighties would look like in our present day. The Beatles even released a hit in 1967, When I'm Sixty Four, in their album, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, depicting the typical character that would befit an eighty-four-year-old gentleman of today. It was a song I thought much of after my 64th birthday, however, I do not think that a weekly routine of lane swimming, long walks, gym workouts and cycling over five miles each way were any part of the Beatles' equation for one of my age.

And I am thankful to God for my being, the ability to reach an age of retirement, yet still regularly swim, cycle, walk and use the Concept 2 rowing machine. These exercises were the advice my Doctor delivered to me at the end of my convalescence following my heart surgery in 2015. But not all for nothing. I have a job to do, a job which I believe God has assigned to me to last throughout retirement. And that is to love, care for and look after my partially disabled wife.

If it takes sacrificing that which I love most - international travel - then so be it. I know it hurts, it hurts me quite badly, but with God's help and through his grace, my love I have for my wife will triumph. However, I do believe that God can and does work in mysterious ways, who knows, one day we could be on board a Eurostar train once again or even, heaven forbid, heading for the airport. But these things I leave in God's hands. I am aware that he knows best, and he wants to have the best for us. Indeed, to have the National Health Service free to the point of use is something to thank God for. Whether we ought to believe in divine miracles or not, the NHS is certainly a very useful, life-saving channel, and I thank God for giving us all brains capable of retaining knowledge no other animal species can retain, and then putting such knowledge into such good use.

I'm lucky to be alive! Sure, so very true. And as God keeps me breathing, the breath of life entering my nostrils which then passes through the trachea to fill the little alveoli which make up my lungs, with oxygen, which in turn enters my bloodstream pumped by my heart - indeed, the moment God withdraws the breath of life, my spirit and soul departs from my body, leaving a corpse ready for burial...

Suddenly, everything falls into place, I'm in the autumn of my life, only God knows how many days I have left to live under the sun. But it is my hope, my prayer, that I fulfil God's will in my life, whether I will ever travel again or not, for the remaining days I have left.

A Mystery So Puzzling.

As this is the weekend when the America's Cup Boat Race starts at Portsmouth, nothing more could be so characteristically British. The oh-so-familiar reminder that all the schools across the nation had broken up for the long Summer break:- when the skies turn steely grey, the wind picks up, the daytime temperature drops, and the heavens open. Not just an occasional blustery shower, but a continuous downpour lasting the entire duration of the day and even well into the night. With the streets glistening with rainwater, umbrellas up, mackintoshes flapping in the wind, and the waterproof fabric clattering with the impact sound of the raindrops, the public carries on with its business undeterred by the weather, as so demonstrated by one female who arrived in Portsmouth to watch the celebrations for the start of the race. When asked to comment about the dismal Summer, her face broke into a wide smile and answered, It's all about being British.

Maybe so, which could explain why in a single day at the start of the school holidays, up to 130,000 people passed through security at Heathrow Airport alone, up on the average daily 100,500, along with another 120,000 passing through London Gatwick. No doubt about it, we Brits crave for a spot of sunshine so much that the stresses of air tickets, passport control, security, waiting in queues - as well as the potential for flight delays and industrial disputes are all accepted stoically as mere risks. Added to these is a risk to health - particularly the attack of the runs due to unfamiliar food, poor hygiene, dirt, or whatever, coupled with the risk of sunburn, tenderising the skin into an intensely painful cherry-red area. Not to mention in addition: pickpockets, petty theft, being ripped off, needing to call in at a clinic, or even ending up in a police cell when a drinking bout gets out of hand. Yes indeed, it is the start of the season when the pursuit of the annual dose of the Four S's becomes the norm of British necessities - Sun, Sea, Sand, and Sex.

Not that any of these are merely textbook propaganda. In my travelling days, I have experienced just about all of these, including ending up sitting at the interview room of a local police station - no, not for drunken behaviour, but to report a theft of all my funds - in the form of a book of traveller's cheques - a big one for the sly fingers of a pickpocket's hand. So leaving me marooned literally penniless for the weekend at the Italian city of Florence back in 1981. And how can I forget 1995 with the dreadful symptoms of hyponatremia which bid me to visit a clinic in Arizona. I was fortunate enough that a cup of electrolyte provided free by a nurse was all I needed for recovery. A visit by a Doctor, even if only for a moment, would have set me back hundreds of dollars.

Eventually, the presence of British stoicism is put to the test as the reality hits home. He enters the front door of his house, bathed in an almost eerie silence after night after night of clubbing, dining out, strolling through streets thronging with thrill-seekers in the warmth of the night, or even engaging in conversation and making friends at hostel socials. As his family begin to unpack, he creeps upstairs, and opens the wardrobe to see his suit, clean shirt and tie, all hanging neatly from a rail. Such attire reminding him of the daily office grind resuming on the very next day. So much of, as I like to call it, Touchdown Sunday, back to work Monday.

Such as I have tried to avoid when returning to my front door from a backpacking trip. I recall 1997, after flying overnight home from Los Angeles, which concluded the Round-the-World trip, including touchdown at Singapore, and then at Cairns, at the Australian state of North Queensland. I have carefully arranged to land back at London Heathrow on a Wednesday, exactly ten weeks to the day after taking off. Like this, I had more than four days to re-adjust to normal life. On the day of arrival back in the UK, I felt so run down by post-holiday blues, that a visit to a friend's house to chat about the experience was a necessity much needed even before considering returning to work on the following Monday.

And so in my final years of bachelorhood, while attending a service at my church in Ascot, I recall one of the Elders looking directly at me while delivering his sermon, classifying some people as living from holiday to holiday. I knew he was right. If there was a time when travel had such a hold on me, it was in the 1990's. This was most likely due to the fact that I was already in my forties, and living alone without a family to support. Of course, as a Christian believer, I was familiar with the New Testament of the Bible, and particularly with Paul's letter to the Ephesians, but I still felt that I have missed out on something in life. Travel was an attempt to fill in this void, which was caused, I believe, by not having a lifelong companion to love and to love me, to support each other, and to share everything in life together.

Yet Paul was different. Unlike the vast majority of Jews in his day, he never married. It was after the Damascus Road experience (Acts 9) that he saw the real reason for living. Enjoying a personal relationship with God through faith in Jesus Christ. The realisation of God's eternal love through his Son fulfilled Paul's every need - physical, mental, and emotional, without any worldly excitement added to stimulate his well being.

I can see, even feel the excitement in the Apostle's heart when he wrote to the church in Ephesus, including statements like being predestined to be adopted into his family, becoming recipients of his grace, wisdom and understanding, lavished upon us unreservedly, to the glory, thanksgiving, and praise, and in line of the inheritance promised to us, which God through Christ is willing to bestow upon us. So he goes on, we are saved by grace, without works, according to the riches of his glory.

Paul remained single throughout his life, contrary to Jewish custom of the day, but by reading his letters, it is easy enough to see the wonderful relationship Paul had with his God. And this despite the many sufferings he went through, including imprisonment. In Acts 16:25-34 we read about Paul and his new companion Silas, thrown into prison without a proper cause. Their backs were welted from the lashes they both received earlier, therefore they must have been very uncomfortable and suffering pain while held in confinement. But did they whinge and moan? Did they wish they could have headed for the airport for a transatlantic flight to Disneyland? Or for that matter, to hike the Grand Canyon? Far from it! Instead they were singing praises and thanksgiving to God. It was infectious. The jailer, instead of bullying them, became convicted of his own shortcomings, and he too asked how he can enjoy the same relationship with God as these two enjoyed.

Did Paul and Silas believe in Eternal Security? Or Once Saved Always Saved? According to his letter to the Ephesians, as well as Romans chapter eight, this seems to be quite a point! The only snag is that neither the statements "Eternal Security" or "Once Saved Always Saved" appear anywhere in the New Testament, let alone the entire Bible. But does this make these statements untrue? After all, the word "Trinity" does not appear in Scripture, neither does the phrase "Prodigal Son" appear either, but no true believer would deny the truthfulness of these statements. But according to my own experience, believing in Eternal Security does have a big impact on my spiritual life. This was felt just a few weeks ago while visiting Westminster Chapel in London. The preach was about Paul's letter to the Ephesians, and there was an emphasis on the truth of Eternal Security. I wanted to stand up and shout my praises to God there and then. Fortunately, the service ended with singing, and through this I was allowed to release my thanksgiving and praise. It was electrifying. What better tonic is there to the spirit than knowing that you are adopted into God's family forever. No wonder Paul and Silas felt exuberant while in prison!

Is God any different today? If so, then how can we trust a God who is not eternally consistent? But if he is the same God yesterday, today, and forever, then what went horribly, horribly wrong? One does not need to be a rocket scientist to give an answer to that question. It is false teaching beginning to percolate into the churches after the death of all the apostles. In fact, the churches in Galatia were already becoming infected while Paul was still alive, and John wrote of "many antichrists that are already in the world" (1 John 2:18-27, 4:3). Antichrist simply means Instead of Christ, and nothing more appropriate could be applied to false teachings. These are the teachings that any form of works are added to faith to either earn, merit, or even to keep our salvation. Such teachings deny the Father and the Son, because the Son did not atone for sin to the extent that the believer is once saved always saved. So the believer becomes his own saviour, or at least a partial saviour, instead of Jesus Christ being the only and true Saviour.

I personally believe that this is the greatest mystery ever recorded in history. How could it possibly happen? Paul's letter to the Ephesians (and to other churches as well) were meant to be the greatest message of good news to be revealed to the world. God having reconciled the world to himself not imputing their trespasses against them (2 Corinthians 5:19) - somehow God has always been seen as metamorphosed into a fickle monster who is constantly examining our faithfulness to see if we are worthy for heaven. That how it looks to me. Little wonder, that when the great Protestant-based British Empire expanded, India for example, remained stubbornly Hindu, while the Middle East and parts of Africa remained Islamic. It seems that trading one set of rules for worshiping a god for another set of very similar rules for some other deity was never seen as worthy enough to strike a deal.

Many churches here in the UK rely on Oxford and Cambridge Universities for the gene pool of future leaders and ministers. I think it is a crying shame that many of these future leaders do not believe in Eternal Security, and therefore discouraging their congregations from believing the greatest message the Gospel has to offer. Little wonder that not only our churches had failed to convert Muslims, but many Christians have also embraced the theory of Evolution, which denies the truth of the Gospel, and internal strife between leaders and their members has been ongoing for many centuries.

How could it all happen? God through Christ and the apostles have given us the greatest message of salvation in all history, and it's well preserved in Scripture. So how could such distortions occur, and so soon too, while the apostles were still living?

It's a mystery so puzzling.

A Mere Coincidence?

The Greyhound bus cruised smoothly along the Pacific Highway heading in a South-Easterly direction along the coastline of Queensland, Australia. As this vehicle was one of a brand new fleet of coaches recently acquired by the company, eating and drinking on board were strictly forbidden - except the sucking of peppermints. Little wonder that the sale of Trebor and Polo mints were high on the agenda, with tuck shops heavily stocked with such confection and little of anything else.

So the pleasant imagination of this free and single British backpacker was allowed unlimited access to his mind, as he ponders on his recent adventures. Like that beautiful tropical beach at Sentosa Island, Singapore, thickly lined with palm trees, among where a wooden shack which served as an outdoor bar has given the area a real Copacabana-style atmosphere. After a lengthy swim in the warm Indian Ocean, the backpacker then finds himself sipping a very pleasant-tasting locally-brewed alcoholic drink, a pint glass from which a Singaporean sitting next to him was also drinking, and from whom the traveller, who had dampened his wooden seat while wearing wet shorts and yet a dry singlet, had gotten his inspiration to try out the beverage. 

And then, a little later, after an overnight flight across the Oceania Islands such as Indonesia, and perhaps over the tiny island of Timor-Leste, the travel enthusiast, after settling down at a Backpacker's Hostel in Cairns, then took the morning catamaran to Low Isles from Port Douglas. Here at the Great Barrier Reef, not far off the coast of North Queensland, he hired snorkeling gear, and with a purpose-designed, single-use underwater camera purchased on board, he took photos of the fabulous coral reef with its abundant marine life just off the island's coarse sandy beach.

And then afterwards, after spending a further few days in the tropical "Winter" heat of Townsville, which was a gateway to Magnetic Island with fantastic hilltop views of its imposing and wild Radical Beach, he was once again heading South, towards Arlie Beach, the gateway to Cook Islands, a part-sunken mountain range, hence dubbed "Continental Islands" as opposed to "Coral Cay" as was the case with Low Isles. One of the islands in this archipelago - Heron Island - has a luxurious fringe reef which featured the famous Brain Coral, as well as giant clams, and schools of brightly-coloured fish, particularly of the striped Zebra variety. Not only the backpacker felt that he was already in Heaven wearing goggles and snorkel, but also became an enthusiastic convert to marine biology.

There was something absolutely wonderful about long-haul independent travel! Not only were all his daily responsibilities left well and truly behind, but his family, along with all friends and acquaintances were far, far away - some 11,000 miles 17,800 km distant, a fact confirmed by just looking up at the cloudless night sky, where the Southern Cross constellation was backed by a distinct hazy band of the Milky Way coursing across the heavens from horizon to horizon. Not the sort of view seen from the Northern Hemisphere, or at least certainly not from the British suburbia. As such, half a world away from anyone who knew him, he sat alone at a table at a bus station restaurant, consuming a snack to satisfy his appetite before re-boarding the bus. Then pulling in from the opposite direction as it journeyed North, another Greyhound bus emptied its passengers into the self-service buffet as it also stopped for the one-hour on-route service. Then about five minutes later:-

"HEY, FRANK!"

He jolted from his semi-doze, and looked up to see a young backpacker looking straight down at him. 

"You know me! But who are you?"

"You don't remember? That hostel in St Louis?"

"Yes, I stopped in St. Louis on my way to San Francisco nearly two years ago."

"Then you don't recall when I gave you that map in the kitchen?"

"By heck! I do recall the incident. When I was without (a Greyhound route map of the USA) you gave me a spare one. I recall. What are you doing here?"

"I guess the same as you. Travelling across Australia."

"And you picked the same place and the same time of the year to travel. And we meet again, purely by chance. Amazing!"

Just then the announcement came for us to board, if I wanted to continue with the journey. I said goodbye and proceeded to the waiting coach. The wonder of backpacking, which is very different from an escorted coach tour, the latter in which the entire group stay together throughout the whole trip, and led by a ranger who decides on the location and duration of each stop. In my case I was alone, and had to book in advance for every leg of the journey from Cairns to Sydney. Then to add to this, I could choose any destination, choose any hotel or hostel, do my own shopping, cooking, and use of the launderette, and stay at any one stop as long as I desired. If I had found the venue to be inspiring, it would have been easy for me to extend the stay by booking an extra night or two at the hostel. If not, then providing that a seat is available on the next bus out, I can leave on the same day, maybe even after a couple of hours. That's the wonder of holding a national bus pass, normally available only to travellers from overseas.

Backpacking Australia, 1997

The conversation in that buffet was a meeting by pure chance with someone I became friends with nearly two years earlier, when I backpacked across the United States in 1995, using the same method of travel by holding a Greyhound Bus Ameripass ticket, which for a month, allowed me to travel freely to any part of the country. That particular trip also held wonderful memories. This included hiking into the Grand Canyon in Arizona, where at the bottom I stood at the banks of the Colorado River, unseen from South Rim Village where all the tourists flock. At night, while standing by Bright Angel Creek which flows into the main river, I looked up to see a magnificent display of stars and constellations of the Northern Hemisphere I had never seen before in my entire life!  Wow, no wonder God had challenged Abraham to count the stars (Genesis 15:5) - "So shall your offspring be."

It was at the Huckleberry Hostel in St Louis, Missouri, when this guy and I found ourselves chatting away in the kitchen while cooking our evening meals, and I was moaning that I had left the Greyhound Bus route map at home by mistake, a silly thing to do, I guess, because it came with the Pass ticket, which I was careful to pack. Fortunately, this fellow helped me out by giving me a spare map. Strange really, but during that chance meeting in Australia two years later, he recognised me straightaway. But I didn't recognise him myself until he identified himself. 

Pure chance? A coincidence? No, rather I believe that God himself has a sense of humour, and predestined this meeting from eternity past. Not only that, but had actually arrange with precise timing and location of the encounter, brief as it was, which took place in June 1997, about eighteen months before I met my future wife Alex. And I could see a connection between these things and that of an incident which occurred in London only last Sunday. 

At present, I'm still on a self-imposed "exile" from my home church in Ascot when, on the ninth Sunday of my sabbatical, I paid a visit to Westminster Chapel in London. I have fond memories of that particular church. Early in our marriage, before our first daughter was born, I took my wife there for a "Prayer for Israel" all-day Saturday Conference, headed by the late Lance Lambert, an expert on Biblical Prophecy, particularly on God's future dealings and blessings for the nation of Israel. Lambert, unlike my experience with the majority of Messianic teachers, believed in and advocated Eternal Security of the Believer, making his teachings on God's promises to Israel particularly powerful. 

But this Sunday, I wanted to sample a typical weekly service. I found my experience both glad with a lace of sorrow. Glad to feel the strong presence of the Holy Spirit, and the friendliness of those who greeted me and spent time for a chat. But sad about the abundance of empty pews, along with totally deserted balconies. The building could have easily have held three to four times the size of the congregation which was present that Sunday. One explanation was that many of the students (primarily of the University of London) had finished their term, and had gone home. For this, I'll most likely return, probably in late October or early November.

But the sense of the presence of God could not be mistaken, as the preach was about Paul's epistle to the Ephesians, with an emphasis on Eternal Security. I felt so moved, as if I was floating on air! Here was something so edifying, so uplifting, that I could have stood up and shouted praises to God. It was after the service had ended and I was heading back to Victoria Station to board a train home when something rather unpredictable happened. Along the route from the chapel to the station, the Westminster Cathedral stands majestically. This is the seat of the Cardinal of London, second only to the Pope in Rome. More than that, this was the church where I was baptised as a Catholic in 1952, when I was a few weeks old. So as I passed it, I decided to take a peek inside.

The interior was huge, cavernous, and gloomy. The very high ceiling was blackened, as if soot from the many candles which burned for centuries around the sanctuary had slowly accumulated over the ages. Above the Altar, an enormous Crucifix hung, with an image of the dead Jesus Christ painted on it, his lifeless head slumped over his chest. In one of the side chapels, a service was taking place, or rather a musical chant, the same words sung over and over again which had a mesmerising impact as I listened:

Lord, have mercy,
Christ, have mercy,
Lord, have mercy,
Christ, have mercy.

So the chant went on and on, without deviating. As I strolled out of the building, I found myself walking along through Victoria Street, chanting away - such was the mesmerising power it had on me.

But was this all a coincidence? How can I connect this incident with the chance meeting back in Australia? Basically, both were unplanned by me, and both was the result of off-chance timing. Yes, the walk into the Cathedral was a decision on my part, as was the route I chose to travel on Down Under. But the chance meeting, along with my ignorance of what went on inside the church were occasions beyond my control, but neither they were coincidences. Rather, as I believe, they were both fore-planned by God himself.  

But why did God had wanted me to see and listen to the chanting? Immediately upon hearing it, I sensed something was not right, although at the time I could not put my finger on it. I could not let go of such a rhythm, because it had such a powerful hold on me. Rather it went round and round my head. Christ, have mercy, Lord, have mercy...

It was during the working week which followed that something of an answer to this mystery began to dawn. It's was all down to one word, Acquittal. I visualised someone who was standing in front of a magistrate in Court. His crime was burglary, stealing valuable goods to try to contribute towards a massive debt he could not pay, for his bank account was overdrawn by several thousand pounds. He was sentenced to prison until his debt was paid, which would take many years. Then someone very rich like John D. Rockefeller arrived and not only paid the defendant's debt, but also credited over a million pounds into his bank account. No longer overdrawn, the defendant can buy anything he wants.

And that's where the chanting was so misplaced. How would Rockefeller had felt if the defendant pleaded with him for mercy, after his debt was paid off, and in addition, so much imputed into his account? All the defendant had to do was believe and accept what he had received, and to demonstrate his faith, simply to say, Thank you so much, sir. No amount of chanting can change the situation. He was free, and nothing can add to his freedom.

God knows best. And if he can make things happen against all odds, I'm sure we can entrust our futures into his hands, no matter where we are.

Old Nick, 777, and Travel

Cannot make sense of the title? Then read on. It will soon become clear...

 

Some years ago I read a true story of a church pastor or elder attending a function at the home of one of his congregation. Nearby there was a female among the group, probably having not taken off her coat or clothed in some other protective garment. Then all of a sudden the Pastor approached her, took hold of both edges of her clothing, and pulled the garment open, exposing a considerable amount of flesh before standing back to look upon his work. She just stood there mortified, without saying a word, until he came to his senses and began to deliver a torrent of apologies. However, the lady must have been spiritual enough to assure him that he was forgiven and not to allow the incident to overcome him. Nevertheless, whether he stayed at the party afterwards, or made a quick exit, I wasn't sure, but it was impossible not to imagine the embarrassment he must have felt after returning home.

 

As I would have imagined, he most likely had wished the ground would swallow him up. He dreaded the next Sunday, when he had to stand at the pulpit in front of everyone. It was most likely that he appointed someone else to preach that week, or he might have even gone for a holiday, possibly a sabbatical. But without a doubt, he must have sat down and asked himself how he was so capable of such acts.

 

Then wind forward to October 1992. For the past eleven years leading up to that date, Fred and I had developed a good, sturdy friendship. Once a week we both turned up at the local Sport Centre for a game of squash, a contest which I initially taught him, but before long overtook me in his skill, and won more games than lost. Eventually, after a few years, I agreed to clean the windows of his house for a fee. As his residence was separate from all the others scheduled for the day, his home was always the first in the morning, and every month he would answer the door dressed in pyjamas under a loose housecoat. 

 

Then one Monday morning of October 1992, I called as normal, and he answered the door to let me in for a coffee, as was the custom. But this time he was fully dressed, wearing a business shirt buttoned up but without a tie. Then all of a sudden, I lunged forward and tried to pull his shirt open at the neck. I failed. But unlike the female as narrated above, this guy went ballistic. He shouted at me to get out of the house, and not to bother with his windows any more.

And I don't want to see you here until you get your life sorted out!

He then slammed the door behind me as I sulkily made my way to the main estate.

 

That morning I felt crushed, ashamed, and embarrassed. I got on with my work, but saddened at the sudden termination of our friendship. I was also surprised at his reaction, a facet of his character I never thought he had. I was shocked by it all. I guess it was the same kind of story as with the pastor, as I refer to this sudden, sinful impulse as Old Nick. If I, along with the church elder, had not let our spiritual guards down, then Old Nick would not have been able to rear his ugly head. 

 

But that wasn't the end of the story. If there was a time when I was at my lowest ebb, deep in the emotional pit, it was that morning. But while up on the ladder, I had a kind of revelation passing through my mind, so intense that I had to stop working for a moment.

Go to Jerusalem, spend a week there and pray over the city.

Jerusalem! I have been to Jerusalem before as a backpacker in 1976, and I remember the city well. On top of this, this would be the first time I would board an airline after fifteen years, since arriving home from the USA in 1978. This long abstinence from flying was due to time spent building up a business. Therefore, this revelation came as a surprise, but was it from God?

 

I then prayed, "Lord, may I have two weeks in Israel?"

Okay, you can have two weeks.

 

I was beginning to feel convinced that this revelation was from God, as it seemed so out-of-order from what took place that morning. But why me? Here were two men, both single, with five years age difference (myself being the older) - yet one tried to take advantage of the other, the one wronged showed his anger quite rightly, the other totally guilty of what could be interpreted as attempted rape; and surely, in the opinion of all other Christians - had there been an audience watching the whole scenario - if God wanted to reveal something, it would have been to the other fellow, the innocent victim. But no, instead God spoke to me, the perpetrator. He told me to go to Jerusalem to pray over the city, and not Fred, even though he was in the right.

Jerusalem from the Mt. of Olives, taken 1993.
 

Up to that particular morning, I had just managed to stay above water financially, with a weekly budget allowing for apartment rental, the payment of all the bills including the income tax, and the groceries. After all that I had little left for pocket money, and what I did have went to the weekend sauna sessions. But after that revelation, things changed, and that despite earning not a penny more than previously, I found that I could put £20 away in the savings account every week for the next ten months - to give me enough funds for a two-week trip to Israel, as usual, as a lone, independent traveller. And I spent that time at a tiny backpackers hostel in the heart of the Old City of Jerusalem - a lot cheaper than hotels and hostels outside the walled city. And yes, I did pray over Jerusalem - from the summit of the Mount of Olives, just as I visualised on that gloomy October morning.

 

From August 1993 when this trip to Israel took place, things were never the same. With the exception of 1996, when I remained in the UK, each year I went abroad for backpacking and hosteling. This is how they panned out:

 

1993 - Israel, prayer over Jerusalem.

1994 - Return to Israel as a volunteer at a Christian Conference Centre.

1995 - Backpacking trip to the USA.

1997 - Round the World special airfare deal - Singapore, Australia, California.

1998 - New York and Boston, Massachusetts.

1999 - Honeymoon at Rhodes.

2000 - 1st wedding anniversary in Israel.

 

As each year came and went, one foreign holiday followed another, with 1997 reaching the peak of ultimate travel. Of course, I had no idea what was going on in the long term basis. But while I was meditating all these things recently with my wife, I realised that there was a set pattern emerging - a series of "sevens" - God's unique number, and three in all, which panned out like this:

 

1. October 1992 - when I had the vision and revelation; to October 1999 - our wedding day - seven years.

2. Seven foreign holidays.

3. Seven years from the start of Israel 1993 to the end of Israel 2000 inclusive, by then my wife was 20 weeks pregnant with our first daughter, thus bringing this special seven year period to an end.

 

As each of these seven years elapsed, it was natural to believe that with God's will and permission, I chose my destinations and planned each trip carefully, working extra hard at my window cleaning business to ensure that I saved up adequately to meet the needs and expenses of all these trips. Except for take off for the 1993 flight from London to Tel Aviv, when there was a six-hour delay, there were no further problems on all the other flights, no health worries, and all bills and creditors fully paid up and met. But only God could see what was really happening, and by his loving grace and mercy, ensured that every detail of his will was worked out to plan.

 

Looking back over these years, this special time of my life was the confirmation I needed as proof, that the revelation I received with a vision of myself on the summit of the Mount of Olives overlooking the city of Jerusalem, was from Heaven. It was extraordinary, as this came within an hour or so after upsetting a Christian brother and bringing to end an eleven-year friendship. So what the significance of all this?

 

I think all these things demonstrates the omniscience of God, as well as his omnipotence and omnipresence. Long, long before I was even born, God knew of that particular day in October 1992. He already knew about the insult thrown to my good friend, and the revelation I would receive soon afterwards. And furthermore, God had already known that that day would not come until almost twenty years after I first believed. Here seems to be the solving of the apparent contradiction between the Sovereignty of God and human choice. In all these trips, I chose each set of destinations, to prepare myself for each trip, and go. But nothing was done outside the Sovereign power of God. The inclusion of the fall before my friend has also reminded me why I believe in Once Saved Always Saved so passionately. The omniscience of God. The day I first believed twenty years earlier, God had already known of that particular Monday morning in 1992. He was able to see exactly what will happen, and the seven-year travel experience that will follow as a result.

 

If ever there was a time I could have lost my salvation, I think that Monday morning was it. But instead, God, through his grace and mercy, spoke to me. In addition to all this, there was even a time when, during 1994, I felt so discouraged by the attitudes of other Christians at the conference centre, that on one occasion I lay on the bed at the backpacker's hostel in Jerusalem (the same one as in 1993) with the intention of renouncing my faith forever. None of these Christians believed in eternal security, and they had given me a very hard time. I have decided to renounce the faith and begin to do things my own way. But as I lay on the bed, alone in the dormitory in the middle of the day, I felt the Lord calling me, ever so gently. When he called again, I responded with a "Yes, Lord" - and slowly resumed my walk with God as a believer, although it took me a year and a trip to the USA to fully recover from my ordeal. And did you know how this trip to the USA in 1995 came about? It was while I was standing on the summit of the Mount of Olives, and gazing over the city I so passionately love, that I had a sudden inspiration to travel across the Atlantic, very similar to the vision of 1992. And it was so. And furthermore, I knew this was from God too. And yet this was all part of the special seven years following that first vision.

Hiking the Grand Canyon, USA - taken 1995.
 

And what became of Fred? Well somewhere between one to two years after that incident, we passed each other on our bicycles on a quiet road in the heart of a housing estate. We stopped and began to talk to each other cordially. The conversation was long and cheerful, and no mention was made about the incident in 1992, Gradually, he invited me to his house for coffee, but I never offered to clean his windows again. Eventually, our friendship was restored to the full, we prayed for full forgiveness on both sides, and at present he delights in visiting us as husband and wife, although he remains single to this day.

 

The sovereign grace of God prevails. He knew all this from eternity past. That is the main reason why I believe in Once Saved Always Saved.

 

 

Travel - And James 4:13-17.

Holiday time is here again! That time of the year when I take a break from the humdrum of daily work and responsibilities to go away to a different location simply for rest, recreation and enjoyment. This year it was the result of a decision made just a few weeks ago, when we agreed that Bournemouth, in the English county of Dorset, was our first choice of destination. So booking a room at an inexpensive hotel over the Internet did not pose any problems.

 

This will be what I call a "round the corner" holiday, which means that it is local in comparison to other places visited. But the big advantage of this is that it would not be a big loss if something were to crop up which would lead to a cancellation. Rather, it is a location that can be easily re-booked, maybe even a couple of weeks later. After all, the resort is only ninety miles (146km) from home, and involves no passports, airport check-in, the threat of flight delays, or even a possibility of picking up a foreign bug. Neither, on the other hand, any guarantee of wall-to-wall sunshine, as most likely the case of any Mediterranean destination such as Crete, where I was to take my beloved for our wedding anniversary last year (2013). But her illness and resulting hospitalisation resulted in a cancellation which ended with a messy involvement with insurance afterwards, accompanied by a wretched gut feeling of imagining some other couple occupying our seats at take off.

Bournemouth Beach
 

But with us, life goes on. There have been ups and downs in various areas in our lives, and particularly on health issues. For example, my wife has been out of hospital since last December, and since then there has been no need for her to have returned as an in-patient. I am very thankful to God for that. But in the last couple of months, I have found myself lying awake in bed and literally gasping for air in the middle of the night, like the state of a runner just after crossing the finishing line, together with rumbling noises in my throat and upper chest. My wife pleaded with me to visit the Doctor. But as a typical male, believing to be just a bug that would clear itself up, and therefore avoiding wasting the medic's time, she eventually succeeded in persuading me to go. I was sent to have a chest X-Ray at a nearby clinic. Just two days later the Doctor called me back into the surgery, only to be told that I have heart trouble, and needed to have a echo-cardio scan at a local hospital. At this point in writing, I'm still waiting for the result, together with an appointment to visit a Cardiologist in the near-future.

 

To discover myself in such a condition was quite a shock, believe me! Even with the awareness that my father had a pacemaker fitted to his heart a number of years ago. But rather than running around in panic like a headless chicken, I thank the Lord for sending me warnings that something was amiss.  It is a comfort to know that I'm in good hands. Furthermore, I firmly believe that the National Health Service is the main avenue for God to work out his mercy in physical healing, perhaps unlike the beliefs of some Christians who insist that God only works through miracles. After all, here in the UK the NHS was founded on Christian principles, and the number of patients who had benefited over the years is countless. So for the last month I was prescribed three courses of medicine - one to remove the fluid from my lungs (the cause of the rumblings), the second to widen the blood vessels, and the third for the heartbeat itself. I can't help but comparing this with the healing powers of the Holy Trinity - the three in one course of medicine which has brought my health to a level where I can live a normal life, and to sleep at night.

 

And go ahead with the trip to Bournemouth, something which I might have had to cancel, had my pride got in the way of my wife's pleading to see a Doctor in the first place. Of course, during this writing, we are not there yet, anything can happen. But one of the lessons in life I have learnt, and come to appreciate is what James included in his general letter, which reads:

 

Now listen, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we would go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money." Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appear for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, "If it's the Lords will, we will live and do this or that." As it is, you boast and brag. All that boasting is evil. Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins.

James 4:13-17, emphasis added.

 

If it's the Lord's will. In the past, especially when I was single, I always assumed that every travel decision I made was approved by God. And according to my testimony, this has always been the case. But on the weeks, even months, on the approach to these trips, I always prayed to the Lord for none of the four things to occur:

1) Industrial dispute at the airport or affecting flights.

2) Falling ill just before date of departure.

3) Hospitalisation due to an external injury, e.g. bone fracture from an accident.

4) Sudden, unexpected expense or other loss of funds.

Each day, or when I thought about these things, I often went out for "prayer walks" - that is, going out for a walk alone in the evening for the purpose of prayer. And throughout all these years of long-haul travel, I never came across any serious problems. The only exception was a six-hour delay at London Gatwick in 1993 for a flight to Israel. And believe it or not, that trip was inspired by a vision I had from Heaven, some ten months previously, instructing me to go to Israel specifically to pray over Jerusalem. Since then, I have rated this city as the greatest destination I have ever visited - and I have been around the world ever since. I certainly appreciate and give thanks for such blessings from above! 

Western Wall, Jerusalem - taken 1994

 

And by reading the above quote from James, the apostle does not forbid any of these things, as he was aware that all good things comes from God, travel included. But what James was writing about was not to take such things for granted, as if it's our right. He then writes with a degree of sarcasm dripping from his pen, reminding us that our life here on earth is like a mist, or a wisp of smoke, which vanishes as it rises. This to me is sober reality, as my heart condition has so much brought home. It has made me realise that the very breath in my nostrils is sustained by God, as all the involuntary anatomical functions, including the heartbeat.

 

So as it comes to this Malaysian airline disaster which occurred over the Ukraine within the last few days. I won't mention names here, but two Britons who were university graduates springs to mind, along with two devout football supporters who were following their team to New Zealand. The two students, both I believe, were unknown to each other, were on a work placement in Australia, set by their university tuition. One was brilliant at maths, the other on business and finance. And by reading the testimonials, no doubt all four Brits were excited about their trip - the two students in vivid contrast to my school-leaving experience, when my first day at work involved pushing a broom across the factory shop floor, and making aware of my place right at the bottom of the ladder. Small fry indeed.

Small fry I may be, even to this day, but still alive in my sixties, as I also have a story to tell. But international travel had always been something of a privilege for me, the desire to explore another country - its geography, history and culture. Some people prefer doing this as part of a tour group, others may "flydrive" - that is, to hire a car after landing, or having a pre-booked vehicle awaiting at the airport; or to backpack with a small group of friends, or as in my case, solo. But whatever the preferences, the whole of travel, as I see it, is to experience life overseas which has the power to broaden the mind, to expand the horizon, to see natural features not found in the UK - the splendour of the Grand Canyon, the constant roar of Niagara Falls, the lofty mountains of the Alps, the coral reefs of the Red Sea and of the Great Barrier Reef, to stand on a mountain looking down across Lake Como, to stand on the lip of an active or dormant volcano - or to admire the beautiful architecture of historic buildings such as in Florence and Sydney, or the ancient ruins of Rome, Sicily, Greece, and Israel - to fascinate over flora which cannot grow naturally in the UK without a greenhouse: such as the Cacti of southern Arizona, the lush palms of Singapore, the mangroves of Australia and even a taste of a tropical rainforest of Blue Mountains National Park. All of these along with hosteling - the sharing of a dormitory, the members kitchen, the capacity to meet people and make friends. Oh boy! What of the joys of travel when I was single. Then not to mention the slow boat-train from London to Rome of the early 1970s when after disembarking from the cross-Channel ferry at the French port, the train awaiting there took some 24 hours to cross mainland Europe, including finding a way to navigate Paris through on what otherwise was a disused branch or link line. To sum up: Travel was an end in itself, and not merely a means to an end.

A pavilion at Singapore, taken June 1997

As was the case of these students and football fans. I have found it odd to travel to New Zealand, on the other side of the world from home, to watch a football match, without perhaps the admiring of the Southern Alps, or to fly to Australia to work in an office without much thought for the vast areas of natural beauty waiting to be explored. But again, perhaps academics and well-educated people have a very different perspective to world travel to someone like myself who was not allowed to forget my humble adolescence.

But the reality of James 4:13-17 could not be more horribly realistic than on that doomed flight. Excited and anticipating the glories of their chosen destinations, instead the airline was shot down, most likely mistaken for a hostile military aircraft, and all in it passed suddenly into eternity. Life is indeed like a mist which vanishes away. The reality is, it can happen suddenly to anyone anytime. As I look forward for a trip to Bournemouth for a few days, I too - or my wife for that matter - or even both of us - can succumb to fate, and not make it to our destination. Sure enough, a train is very difficult to shoot down, but all it takes is someone to lay something on the tracks, and the fast train could de-rail, sending it tumbling over the bankside, resulting in numerous casualties. What guarantee is there that such an accident cannot happen? After all, a points failure on the London-Edinburgh track caused a very similar catastrophe of a fast train at Potters Bar a few years ago, with quite a number of casualties.

Those four Brits boarded the aeroplane at Amsterdam, possibly on a much cheaper airfare than that of a direct flight from London. They were glowing with happiness and anticipation on what was to come, as well as assurance of a glittering career for the two British students, not to mention other students from Holland, and other nationalities also on board, including a group of scientists, along with businessmen and women, as well as young children. I have no idea whatsoever whether any of them were aware of the short Scripture passage. But I am aware of their sudden and unexpected passage into eternity, which proves James to be terrifyingly correct.

Nobody knows when their time is up, except God only. Maybe this coming night could be the one that I'll never wake up. Or the train journey could end up with fatalities, or I could cross a road and a car could appear suddenly out of nowhere. I can collapse with a heart attack - on board the train, at the hotel, at home, at work...

There is one safe course which all men everywhere should take heed. That is to believe in Jesus Christ as Saviour, be filled with the Holy Spirit, serve God, and be thankful for all the days of your life, not forgetting to count your blessings. For nobody knows when their name will be called.

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As always, comments are welcome here, but since I may not have access to a computer in the next few days, publishing may be delayed. No fault of yours. God bless.