andi oakes

Letters of love

Sat, 20 Aug 2011 07:20:00 +0000

The GRACE of God. The unmerited favour shown to us by the almighty. The truth that God gives to us what we do not deserve instead of raining down on us justifiable anger in the face of our blatant acts of selfish lunacy.

It's a basic belief of the Christian faith, and one I hold to dearly.

Having said that however, I am increasingly aware that the power of this truth is possibly lost on me because, basically, when it comes to God, I find it extremely difficult to relate to Him sometimes because...well...He's God. How can I comprehend the Almighty? How can I really grasp the magnitude of God whilst living in a world that so often seems to deny that He is actually there? Receiving grace and mercy from God then becomes something of a concept it seems to me: an idea that I hold to, that eventually becomes my belief based on what the Bible and other people tell me – though, if I am going to be completely honest...I sometimes wonder if it really exists at all outside of my own personal beliefs.

You see, when I get it wrong...when I put my big stupid foot in it time and time and time again...(and what's worse is that God gave me two feet to reek double trouble with) I try to console myself with the belief that God loves me and has forgiven me, and that one day I'll experience that love and mercy in its fullest. But “someday” isn't terribly helpful when you're busy beating yourself up in the “here and now” for the awful decisions made in the heat of the moment and potentially messing up other people's lives in the process.

An etherial, otherworldly concept is very little comfort in itself without some reference point on this physical plane that we all dwell on.

That's why Jesus taught us to forgive and show mercy to each other I think. For in the moment I extend or receive mercy to or from another human being...I share something of the truth of God's mercy in this shallow reality that we currently call home. We cannot separate God from this life we all are here to live. When someone else gives me the mercy that I do not deserve in response to my misguided actions...in that very second God's mercy becomes tangible.

God is love: it's an emphatic statement made in the Bible. But yet that emphatic statement will still remain somewhat disconnected until it invades this physical space. Jesus Himself was that physical invasion of God's love in action...living and giving His life to bring us to God's loving kingdom; but even Jesus can become a concept to us by virtue of the fact that we cannot see Him. When someone I can see, hear and touch however, extends mercy to me...then, in that one courageous and loving act, I am finally able to understand something of what God continually shows me every single day of my life.

“We are living letters read of all men...” is how the Apostle Paul put it, and there is no more profound expression of God's love than when it is shown through another human being. It is the essence of why Jesus was as much a human as He is God.

I don't deserve any of the grace that I have been shown by people I have offended and hurt: At times I've been stupid, selfish, thoughtless, mindless and any other “lesses” you care to mention. But that's the whole point of grace after all: something loving given in response to something selfish. These moments of amazing grace inevitably have one simple effect...they show me that God is there, alive and well in the life of another person. It is then that I cannot help but to fall on my knees and worship the God who takes the time to write me such a beautiful letter in living flesh and blood.

So...to those who have chosen not to burn me at the stake for my selfish actions: thank you. May I share the mercy you have shown to me and, in turn, be that “Living letter of God's love” to others.

Peekaboo...I see you

Thu, 07 Jul 2011 08:34:00 +0000

I'm writing this entry in the cafeteria of our local hospital where we are now into the eighth day of our vigil with my wife's mother, and very quickly this has become our second home.

As I made my way down to the restaurant area, I indulged in one of my own little, personal, social experiments: trying to catch people's eyes. Now just before some of the more humorous among you think that I have wilfully strayed into the ocular department and am currently playing left field in a mischievous game of “catch the glass eye” (please don't try this at home dear readers), I simply mean that I deliberately try to make eye contact with people as I pass them in the corridors. You see, our local hospital is a rather large building, and in making the journey from the wards to the cafeteria, the brave adventurer will need to traverse some rather lengthy corridors, along which I indulge in my little experiment. Quite often you see, it will simply be myself and one other person in the corridor, walking towards each other. It is at this point then, that I begin to direct my gaze at them.

Well...that sounds a bit ominous doesn't it? I should clarify that perhaps: I'm not actually staring at them the whole way along. That would be just weird and more than a tiny bit freaky. I mean, it would be more than a little unsettling to see some complete stranger approaching you from the opposite end of a long, and very clinical hallway, staring at you with some kind of manic grin and looking like they are just about pull a chainsaw from their back pocket. Really...I don't do that...promise. What I actually do is, just before we both pass each other in the corridor, I look at them and see if they will respond in kind: I wait to see if they are willing to make eye contact with me. If and when they do...I smile, and inevitably, so do they.

Sadly however...nine times out of ten...people just don't look up. They pass me with their eyes cast down like I didn't exist and continue hurrying on their way.

Perhaps it is just me, but I think one of the most basic needs for us as human beings, is the desire to be seen: to have our existence acknowledged...and one of the easiest ways to do that I think, is to look into someone's eyes and smile at them. I think it's like saying “Hey! I see you! Glad you're here.”

But there is also another human trait that seems to trump this desire to be seen: the desire to hide. We seem to be in a state of constant conflict with ourselves and thus, with everyone else. Deep inside of us there is the part of us that longs to be open with everyone; to be seen for who we really are and accepted as such. But there is also another part of us that is constantly and fearfully hiding the real us behind anything it can. This part of us is ashamed, afraid, suspicious, mistrusting and, unfortunately, the more dominant part of us for most of the time. It is somewhat easy to hide: it's what the human race seems to have been doing since the beginning. Take Adam and Eve in the Genesis account for instance: the first thing they did after they ate the “forbidden fruit” was hide.

But hiding isn't good. Hide long enough and you eventually begin to feel alone. It's fun when you're a kid playing hide and seek, and you find the best hide out and just know that no-one is ever going to find you; but the satisfaction of knowing that nobody will see you, can very quickly turn into disappointment, when you realise that everyone else has given up looking and have resumed the game without you. The greatest fun in hide and seek I think, is actually being found: because, let's face it, nobody really likes to be forgotten about.

So I will continue my experiment. I will continue to run the risk of freaking complete strangers out because I know that, when it comes to me, I like to seen. I like people to smile at me. I like it when other people acknowledge that I exist and, as far as I understand it, Jesus said that I was to treat people the way I wanted to be treated. But I will also continue, just in case the next person I meet along the way, is the very one who is desperately longing for someone, somewhere, to say “Hey! I see you!”

So I give you fair warning...if you're walking down a long, clinical corridor in the not so distant future, and a little dude comes ambling along in the opposite direction...prepare yourself: it might just be me...and you know that I'm gonna be smiling at you. :)

Oh...while we're in the hospital, I might as well leave you with the urban legend about a nurse, supposedly from Indonesia direction called Picaboo, who was stationed in the ICU department...and every time she answered the telephone she would say: yup...you guessed it... “Picaboo...ICU”

True or false...it's still funny. :)

Car stories

Mon, 04 Jul 2011 10:47:00 +0000

We've been spending a lot of time at the hospital lately. My wife's mother, who was initially admitted with breathing difficulties, suddenly went critical as her only remaining working kidney suddenly stopped functioning. After 48hours of constant family vigil, it wasn't looking good at all and the doctors were preparing us for what they saw as the inevitable outcome. Then, almost inexplicably, her kidney just kicked back into action again...literally a few minutes after the doctor had once again had the “you need to prepare yourselves” conversation with us. To us, it is a true blue miracle and we thank God for it. Of course, we're not out of the woods yet. The kidney was only one of a series of serious issues that she has, but for the moment we are all breathing a little bit easier.

In the middle of the days of constant vigil, as I was making my way from the hospital car park with a feeling of anxious heaviness draped over me like some invisible cloak, I began to look at the cars that were parked there. I was at the very far side of the lot, and so had to weave my way through the mass of varied vehicles parked there; and in doing so, I began to wonder about the people who owned them. As I looked at each car, I no longer saw just large hunks of crafted metal and plastic on wheels, but rather containers for stories: real, human stories.

I thought about our own story that was presently unfolding and how it was affecting us, and realised that our car was a tangible representation of that story as it sat there in the car park. I wondered about what small items were being carried in each car and what they meant to the owners: what kind of CD's, books, trinkets, prized possessions and toys were being transported around with each occupant, that would reveal something about their individual story.

I know what is in my own car for instance: everything from an ever changing range of music, a map of Ireland [I'm old school and haven't gone to Sat Nav yet and just love maps], heart burn tablets [a recent addition from my recent escapade with A&E...and also because I now quite like the taste of them. I know...weirdo right? ;)], a cool etch-a-sketch pen, nail clippers to keep my nails nice and short for that all important guitar chording, and a large, plush, Larry the Cucumber...my constant companion, amongst other small bits an pieces [if you have to ask who Larry the Cucumber is...you just haven't lived my poor deprived friend]. All of these things are in some way significant in my own story, and I expect every body else's car in the car park was probably exactly the same.

So there I was...in a car park full of human stories. All of them different, like the cars themselves...but, in truth, all of them sort of the same.

King Solomon put it like this in the Bible: “There is nothing new under the sun”...and I think he was right. We are all pretty much the same. All living, in some way, through variations of the same basic stories. Apparently some say that there are only a limited number of basic plot lines that can be drawn from in literature and that all stories are derived from these. I don't know if that's true or not, but I could easily believe that we humans are all experiencing the same sort of “plot lines” in differing ways. Our contexts may vary, but the stories are basically the same...or at least the motivations and drivers of our own individual tales are more or less the same: love, acceptance, identity, security...to name only a few.

We are all the same. We are all human. We are all seeking. We are all bobbing along together on this blue green sphere suspended in the great grandeur of the universe: and if we are alone in all the vastness of this inconceivably immense cosmos...it would probably be a good idea to start making a real effort to get along with each other. And perhaps a good place to start would be to see that we are basically...all the same. Maybe it would help if we all reminded ourselves that, even though God loves us passionately, God is just as passionate about the one we call our enemy as well: for just because someone is our enemy...doesn't necessarily mean they are God's.

If we continually condemn others for their failings, then I believe we are ultimately condemning ourselves. Jesus said that the measure we use to judge others is ultimately the measure that is used to judge ourselves. In other words...what I dish out bounces straight back onto me. It's the sowing what you reap idea. But why then, should we not use that principle for good and begin dishing out love and compassion in the belief that it will eventually come back towards us? Sounds like a much better way to exist to me. I don't know about you...but I'm willing to give it a go because, the way I see it, it doesn't seem as if our current system has worked so far has it?

Love you're enemy...and you're enemy disappears.

Adventures in Accident and Emergency

Sat, 18 Jun 2011 16:59:00 +0000

Yesterday...I spent the entire afternoon at the hospital in the Accident and Emergency Department. Not the sort of place you really want to hang out in on a Friday afternoon, but kind of necessary when you've had a week of discomfort around the chest area.

So...after a solid week of “When is this going to ease up?” I decided to take myself off there to get it checked out, and so began my little adventure in the magical land of the NHS' wonderful A&E. And I have to say...I was totally amazed by it all.

Now don't get me wrong...it wasn't as if I was sitting there all wide eyed and in awe of my surroundings because they were gleaming white and super slick. No. It's just a hospital like any other up and down the land...a bit gloomy looking and in need of a bit of a face lift...to say the least.

And neither was I bouncing around like I had just landed in Disneyland. I still had this strange chest feeling going on and was trying really hard to keep myself from thinking “What if...?” thoughts; especially when, a few minutes after asking me some questions, checking my blood pressure and hooking me up to the ECG machine, the P.A. System sprang into life and a serious sounding voice said “Andrew Oakes...follow the yellow line to Majors.”

Majors! Majors?!

So I can tell you that following that little yellow line through the maze of corridors was quite an interesting experience. Why were they sending me to “Majors?”...but more importantly...what on earth was “Majors” short for?

Major trauma? Yup...I was sure getting that alright.

Major emergencies? Ok...it was beginning to feel more like that the further along the line I walked. Major death??? Ok...let's not go there. I was following a yellow line after all and if the Wizard of Oz has taught me anything...it was that yellow roads had happy endings...right?

The yellow line ended abruptly at a blue door with no distinguishing sign on it or, more importantly for me, no tiny rivers of red trickling from underneath it.

Pushing the door open I entered “Majors” and held my breath, waiting for the moment a hefty squad of people would slam into me, wrestling me to the nearest bed and hooking me up to whatever machines would be necessary for maintaing my ebbing and fragile life force...including the machine that goes “Ping” (That's a Monty Python joke).

Nobody leapt at me. No one shouted “Let's move people!”. Not one single person even looked my way. I was quite disappointed really.

“Hello” I offered. “I followed the yellow line?”, now feeling kind of out of place.

I was in a large room bordered by curtained cubicles with a tall desk running down the middle, and a group of blue clad nurses scuttling about like worker bees. One of the blue bee people noticed me.

“Mr Oakes?”

“Yes” I replied hoping that was the correct answer.

“We'll be getting you a bed in a moment.”

A bed! A bed!! How long am I staying? Am I dying? Is this a real emergency? Should I call my family? Tell loved ones goodbye? What have I left unsaid? I want Queen played at my funeral!!

“Cool” I said.

Cool? Cool?? You're about to check out of this life and all you can say is COOL!

A few moments after being shown to my bed, what I initially thought was a nice nurse came and said hello to me and promptly produced a needle. It's amazing how quickly you can go off people.

“I need to take some blood is that ok?” she asked.

“No it's not ok, but you're going to anyway aren't you?”

She smiled. “You know it's true.”

Shortly after surviving the needle vampire, I found myself in front of the huge x-ray machine with a couple of guys who very quickly hid behind a big screen whilst they saturated my innards with invisible rays. About half an hour later, and back in my cubicle in “Majors”, a very pleasant Doctor came and had a chat, assuring me the ECG was normal and that he didn't expect me to be keeling over anytime soon (my words not his).

Phew. That was ok then. He said the blood results would take an hour or so to come back and so suggested I should go and get a coffee or something, which was a relief, because I suddenly noticed how hungry I actually was.

Refuelled and back in the waiting position in my cubicle I began to pay more attention to what was happening around me. The flurry of nurses (is that a new collective noun do you think?) that were darting to and fro; the same cheerful ambulance guys who periodically turned up with new admissions, chatting away with them and offering reassurance where needed; the doctors obviously bouncing backwards and forwards not only between patients but between wards; the cleaners constantly sweeping and wiping and the ,what seemed like myriads of others in differing uniforms traversing the corridors at high speed. And all of them working towards one common goal: the betterment of humanity. I was inspired to say the least.

I was so grateful to have been there. To have interacted with these amazing angels who genuinely never seem to stop. Eventually the nice doctor person came back and told me I was clear and probably suffering from some nasty acid stuff (so you're saying I'm an alien?) and that some meds would probably sort me out (anti alien acid meds?). After thanking him for his attention we parted company as he dashed off to his next patient and I waited for the nice blue bee people to give me my medication and send me on my way.

So I hadn't been in mortal danger after all and wasn't about to shoot off into the great unknown. It was acid causing all the difficulty. Simple and straightforward. I couldn't help feeling that, now tmy diagnoses was complete, all these nice people would suddenly turn on me because I wasn't actually seriously ill. But no...they were as caring and as patient as ever. Glad to have had a positive result by all intents and purposes.

I thought, with all the pressure that the Health Service is under, that I may have been regarded as an something of an inconvenience compared to the poor soul who was rushed in strapped to a trolley after a serious car accident...but no. I was treated with as much care as anyone else. Yes I was processed by the system that we all tend to complain about...but within that system are real, flesh and blood heroes...genuine angels of mercy and care. Sure they must have their “off” days...but as far as I'm concerned...they are gifts from heaven.

So...go hug a healthcare professional today...and while you're at it...hug the cleaner too, because God has gifted us with Angels we can see.

What are you saying about yourself right now?

Thu, 09 Jun 2011 11:55:00 +0000

On the way home from my local Starbucks this morning, I had an unfortunately stereotypical encounter with a white van, which cut me up on a roundabout. As it veered in front of me in order to beat me to the exit, and I was left staring at the back of the van in question, I had the opportunity to see the logo of the company it represented and the service they provided alongside all their necessary contact details; and one simple thought walked with a huge placard across my mind:

I won't be contacting you if I need THAT done.

Perception is so crucial to how we communicate with each other: because, as the old saying goes...actions speak louder than words.

As far as I was concerned this morning, the driver of the white van was making a very clear statement to me: his journey is more important than mine - and in that moment the driver unwittingly alienated me.

Now...his journey may indeed have been much more important than mine. How do I know he wasn't rushing his pregnant wife to the hospital and didn't have time to apologise? But I will never know...and that's the point: because I will probably never know, I am left to work with the information I have been given. All indicators therefore say that the driver considered his mission more important than mine. He considered me to just be another stepping stone along the way.

Companies use this tactic all the time. Endless uninvited phone calls, constant barrages of emails and electronic spamming to get there messages across. We now no longer have the choice to look or listen to their messages under our own autonomy, because they are rammed towards us with ever increasing invasiveness; and what they are saying is: listen to me because I am important. They appear to be doing us a service, but in reality they simply want the sale.

We live in a broken system: it's what the bible refers to as “the world”. And in this broken system it is about who shouts the loudest or pushes the hardest. Jesus came to lead us out of this system, and yet, for some reason, we still try to use the same tactics in order to progress our various messages. Even those who genuinely believe what they do will bring benefit to others are trying to use the broken system to advance their “mission”. The system doesn't work. It never did. The last few years alone should serve to remind us that the current dominant system we live under is faulty...at every level.

Jesus' kingdom is not broken however.

He described His Kingdom as being like the smallest of seeds that grows to be the biggest tree in the garden. There's a natural pattern to the Kingdom of God: all things grow and are seen in their right time. There is no forcing, there is no coercing...there is only gentle, irrepressible growth through faith.

I believe that if I want to grow in the Kingdom of God and as a person...then I must consider how others will perceive me as I intersect their personal journey. I must respect that journey. Avoid anything that may say that my journey is more important than theirs. Avoid using others as stepping stones to my own goals. For I would surely discover that, in using the broken systems ideologies to further my life's mission, any gains I make in the broken systems methodology will be temporary and passing: as everything in this realm ultimately is.

It is not simply about what I do...but who I am:

everything I therefore do makes a statement to that end.

Love lasts. Someone once said: people will quickly forget what you say...but will never forget how you made them feel.

Time to get a man in...

Tue, 10 May 2011 11:34:00 +0000

Sitting by the window in a coffee shop, a guy walked passed with, what I assume was, his little daughter: dressed in the coolest three quarter length, big buttoned red coat over a pair of the funkiest looking flared jeans with pink flowers embroidered down the side. (The little girl was dressed like this that is, and not the guy himself. Just thought I should clarify that in case you think we have styling issues going on down here)

Looking no more than 3 years old, with blonde hair and a mischievous glint in her eye, she swaggered gracefully behind him with a bag of crisps in her hand and a carefree air about her. I couldn't help smiling to myself.

Just as she drew level with me, a few inches away and separated by mere millimetres of glass, I expected her to pass on by, but was somewhat taken by surprise (and pleasantly so I might add), when she stopped outside and pushed her face right up to the window to give me a wide crisp filled smile. I chuckled and waved...and this little angel, satisfied she had achieved her desired response, sashayed on her merry way.

How brilliant are children?

In one simple moment, this little girl invaded and brightened my world with her glorious smile. A smile without warning. A smile without baggage. A smile without agenda. A smile full of crisps.

At what stage do we lose the freedom to smile so carelessly at people?

At what time do we stop being so carefree in our walk through life?

At what moment are we introduced to so much fear that we begin to hide from each other?

At what point do we become so self-conscious?

I'm sure we were never designed to be so afraid, so suspicious: but somehow we get reprogrammed.

Maybe if we could just find the reset button we could all reset ourselves to our original mode: back to the manufacturers default settings? Maybe we could find a way to undo all the programming that's clogging up our hard-drives and free up more memory space for all the good stuff that would make us smile more instead of all the junk and pointless applications that take up so much of our processing power and keep us bound in perpetual cycles of fear and suspicion?

Maybe there's a man we can get in, who could run a virus check and clean out our system? Someone who'll delete all the rubbish and show us how to manage our programming and show us what to download and what to avoid.

Maybe there's a man who will help us to make sense of the manual and show us what it all means?

Everyone...I think it's time we got a man in to look at the system:

Jesus Christ: Ultimate system repair and refurbishment.

The elegant kingdom

Thu, 28 Apr 2011 13:59:00 +0000

Sometimes...I read the words of Jesus and think to myself...WHAT?!!!

I mean...He's off the wall sometimes...just totally off – the – wall.

Take the story of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10 for instance. Jesus tells this parable in response to a question and answer session with an “Expert in the law”, and it's how Jesus answers his initial questions that just makes me shake my head in wonder.

At first, this unnamed expert asks a very, very straightforward question:

“What must I do to receive eternal life?”

So...pretty straightforward don't you think? Pause for a moment, and let that question be directed to you. Someone has come up to you on the street and asks you exactly the same question. I mean...how amazing would that be?! No mission, no evangelistic outreach...a guy just comes up and asks you outright “How can I get eternal life?” How do you answer?

If you're like me, you're probably running through the logical steps that lead someone to pray the prayer of repentance and “accept Jesus into their hearts.” How does the “Roman road” go again? It's a one off moment. The transaction is simple...you say sorry to God and invite Him in. Easy.

Not if you're Jesus.

Jesus...at no point...directed this man to “acknowledge he was a sinner”. Well, he didn't need to did he? He was an expert in the law after all. Jesus...at no point however...invited him to pray the “sinners prayer”. Hmmmmm...tricky.

So how can he know if he'll have eternal life?

Jesus simply asks the guy a question: “What does the law of Moses say?”

Aha! Surely this is where Jesus is going to show him, through his own understanding of the law, his desperate need of a personal saviour.

So the guy replies:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, strength and mind; and love your neighbour as yourself.”

Go get him Jesus! Tell him what he's missing!

““Right!” Jesus told Him. “Do this and you will live!”” (NLT)

Pardon me? What did you say Jesus? Did you say “Right”? Now hold on a moment! Where's the prayer of submission? The supplication for forgiveness? Right? Right? Is that all you have to say?!

It is at this stage that the expert asks for Jesus to clarify who his “Neighbour” is...and Jesus tells him the story of the Good Samaritan. Basically Jesus told him to go do good to the person or people you despise the most.

Hmmmm...I'm pretty sure that's not what I was told in evangelism training.

I mean...if I had suggested leading someone to the Lord using Jesus' method, I would have quickly taken round the back and swiftly shown the error of my ways with a swift King James Authorized clip round the ear. How can someone know eternal life without praying for it? But...according to Jesus...apparently...they can. So who's right? “Off the wall” Jesus or everyone else?

It seems to me, on reading this passage again, that Jesus is more interested in the NOW rather than the future. We obsess about someone's “Eternal destination” - a future event; where Jesus appears to be more interested in eternal life in the actual here and now. Jesus confronts us in the “here and now” by saying that first we must love God whole heartedly and that, hand in hand with that, is how we treat others, steering us away from a momentary prayer towards a radical change of lifestyle.

You see...it's easy to say you love God. I've meet plenty of people who say they “Love” Jesus, and then go right ahead and treat people unkindly; and even use God to justify it all. Unkindness is still unkindness, no matter what spiritual clothes we try to dress it up in. But loving God is only 50% of the equation – treating others with care, kindness and love is the other half. One cannot exist without the other.

Loving God is not even the greater of the two - both are equal and intrinsic to each other. It's not an either or situation...they are a package and exist in harmony with each other. At another time, Jesus said that we would be known by the fruit we produce: not by how little someone drinks, go to nightclubs, what they watch on TV or how often they go to church - no...we will be known by how we treat other people. (Check out the end of Matthew 25 if you're in any doubt about that)

In fact, let me push it a little further:

Paul said in Acts 17 v 28 “For in God we live and move and have our being.” That means we must exist “in” and not separate from God. We are also told in Genesis that mankind was made in the image of God. So...it seems reasonable to me therefore...that when we love another human being...we are actually, in some way...loving God.

So you see...loving your neighbour as yourself completes the circle of love. There is no difference, for we end up loving God all ways with what Jesus has said. Love...that is eternal life. Not simply a prayer. A prayer means nothing if it is not empowered by love.

Loving God = Loving Others = Loving God.

How elegant the kingdom of God is.

One minute that changed the world

Fri, 18 Mar 2011 18:00:00 +0000

The minute the world changed

Turning on the television last night, I settled down to watch the next instalment of Liverpool's Europa League game, live from Anfield in Liverpool and, like the thousands of Liverpool fans gathered in the ground itself, my hopes were high that a great night could be had for the Red Army. Sadly, it wasn't to be our night. The boys from FC Braga in Portugal, were just too good at holding the line and ultimately stifled any attempt to breach their defence, resulting in an end to Liverpool's european football campaign.

Ordinarily I would have been bitterly disappointed with such a poor result and, to be honest, such a lack lustre display by the team, but not tonight. Sure, I was still sad that we were out of the competition; but something else had happened that had given me a sense of hope that was much greater than my chosen football team's (that's soccer to you wonderful people across the pond) potential progression in a cup competition. And that something was the observance of the minutes silence for what is happening across the other side of the world in Japan.

The minutes silence...what a wonderful thing it is. Just one minute where we all stand together in peaceful contemplation and collectively direct our attention towards someone or somewhere else.

Now, normally, I find these moments are touching enough. I mean, I think that there is something inherently inspiring about thousands of people standing in total stillness and unity. But, with the best will in the world, there is always someone, in some corner of the ground who decides that the minutes silence is a complete waste of time and so they, quite literally, voice their disapproval by shouting something inappropriate at the top of their lungs: and sadly, it's now almost something to be expected at Football matches over here in the UK.

Last night was different however. For the first time that I could remember, the minutes silence for Japan was perfectly observed; something that is even more amazing when you consider that there were at least two nationalities represented: the British and the Portugese. Such has been the concern for Japan and the shock at how fragile we really are as a species, that even the lunatic fringe seemed to have been touched by the impact of the devastation that has occurred.

This one single minute then; a simple sixty seconds; no different from any other that has elapsed in all the millennia before it, had the potential, I believe, to change our world forever. Why? Why would that humble minute carry so much importance? Simple: unity. For the briefest of moments, before the football stadium descended once again into cultural and tribal division, humanity stood together, unified in one common thought: concern for the people of Japan.

Let's be honest here...how many of us westerners have grown up watching movies representing the second world war and, more specifically, the Japanese role in the battle for the pacific? How many of us, growing up as the children of the “Allies” have been told of the reported atrocities and belligerence of this eastern enemy? How many of us have grown up with an inherent and deeply rooted, if somewhat unspoken, suspicion of a culture that is so different to ours. How many small boys have arrayed plastic soldiers, representing the Japanese, against the combined might of the Allied troops and taken great glee in mighty victories won against “all odds”. I know I have. The Japanese were always a sandy coloured plastic; the Germans a steely grey; and the Allies a solid green: it was easy to tell who the enemy was...because they didn't look like the “good guys”.

And yet, many years on and probably still living with the cultural legacies of two terrible world conflicts; nations represented by football supporters (some of the most violently partisan crowds on the planet), are standing together; their teams arm in arm, observing a perfect minutes silence for, realistically from the average European's point of view, a little known or understood people and culture on the other side of the world.

For one perfect minute then, in one football stadium...over 60 thousand people demonstrated possibly the true potential of humanity: that, if we put our minds to it, we can see beyond our differences and stand united in one common cause.

Never underestimate the power of unified thought.

Jesus said that “All things are possible to them who believe.” All things. He said all things. If only we could fully embrace this profound insight and allow ourselves to experience the magnificent invitation that it holds. If we choose to believe in something, it becomes, according to Jesus, a real possibility: a real possibility...a re-al-ity perhaps?

And what is unity therefore, other than agreement between many? An agreement of thought and belief that leads to a new form of reality around us. I mean, how much of what we see and experience around us right now is the product of our collective beliefs? How much of our current economic difficulties for instance has been produced, or simply been made worse, by our collective beliefs? Our belief that we're all doomed; our belief that we're all disappearing down some financial black hole, never to emerge. It would seem to me that what is actually true is never as powerful as what we believe to be true. When we understand this basic principle...I believe we will be in a better place to begin to see the kingdom of God emerging here on earth.

How powerful it is when one of us believes something passionately? But how much more does that power increase exponentially when many more stand with the same belief? Surely this is the ground of potentially great goodness or, conversely, the ground of potentially great evil. I believe, therefore, that Jesus came to teach us how to reset our collective default as a global race from a negative to a positive. I don't believe He simply came to give us the proverbial “ticket to heaven” but to teach us the ways of the kingdom of God: to show us that there is a better way to live together that benefits us all and brings heaven to earth, here and now. I think the ticket to heaven mentality is intrinsically selfish...it's all about “me and mine” getting to heaven someday in the future; whereas, it seems to me, that living for the good of others around us is the true way of Christ, which affects the “here and now”.

So, may more of these simple moments of togetherness, that have the potential to lead us to even greater experiences of unity and love, take place in our collective lives.

“I pray that they would be one” is what Jesus prayed for his disciples, and all those who would come after them. The true definition of a disciple of Christ, is unity it would seem. May we all become His true disciples...because our world desperately needs it.

Can you see yourself in Japan?

Mon, 14 Mar 2011 12:57:00 +0000

I think there can be very few of us who haven't been shocked and moved deeply by the images coming from Japan over the last few days. At least I hope this would be the case. Unfortunately there always seems to be proportion of people who may have little sympathy for the people caught up in such devastation, whether through religious beliefs, economic jealousy or good old fashioned racism.

It has been encouraging though, to see so many countries rally to help Japan. They may be one of the richest countries in the world but that means very little when it comes to the raw power of nature. In truth, we see our fragility in such extreme circumstances, which really are a perspective check for us all.

On occasions like this however, there begins to shine a little light of hope: a light that flickers into life in times of turmoil and disaster. This light is the potential of a humanity that is moving in one direction, abandoning the old ways of fear and mistrust in favour of a collective future where all are dedicated to one common goal: love for each other.

All too often however, this light doesn't last and it's energy too quickly dissipates as we all return to our old mindsets of territorial, religious, and political differences.

I choose to believe in humanity's potential and I believe that this is what Jesus' teachings are mostly about. I sometimes think we become far too focused on the life “here after” and in doing so sacrifice the invitation to be fully involved in the present reality that is God's Kingdom here on earth, now. A kingdom that moves towards the place of greatest need. It is interesting that the bible uses the analogy of the church, collectively, being a representation of Christ's body on earth. So, just like the human body redistributes its resources to the point of greatest pain in order to heal itself, so we must surely be called to do that for each other here on earth.

But that's where the problems begin, because our deep rooted prejudices, suspicions and fear driven assessments of life hinder our ability to reach out in true, unhampered love. We can't allow ourselves to love people because to do so surely validates their lifestyles that differ so much from ours; and that, we just cannot do. And so we come up with other ways to “do good” to people by making it all about conversion: we use practical measures in order to convince people of the truth of our ways, not understanding that it is our, not so subtle, sub-text that actual reinforces the walls that divide us.

But what I think we also don't realise, is that this partisan thinking actually infects us at our most basic levels, to the degree that the supposed “Body of Christ” here on earth (the church) is so fractured and dismembered that you can expect very little cooperation between rival denominations and movements; because we are all fighting for our own little corner in a desperate attempt to increase our (and I make no apologies for using this term) market share.

Even at the micro level, within our various organisations and faith groups, we are divided: still mistrusting each other; still judging each other; still believing that we are the only guardians of ultimate truth.

But the light of humanity still flickers. For into all our sphere's comes trials and tribulations, whether on a micro or macro level: trials and tribulations that the bible encourages us to embrace and even welcome. Why? Because it seems as though it is only difficulty and adversity that has the ability to awaken us from our thoughtless slumber and malaise. In great disasters we cannot help but look at those suffering and think to ourselves “They look like me...that could as easily have been me.”

And as poignant a thought as that is...a more profound one, I believe, is what Jesus was trying to get us to understand when He said “Love your neighbour as yourself”; for in that little statement, I believe that what He is actually saying, is that we will never truly be able to love another until we actually see them as ourselves: that when someone else suffers...it is “me” who suffers: in the same way as recognising that any individual part of my body is still “me”.

So...on that basis...right now, perhaps what Jesus is saying, is that you and I are suffering in Japan.

It would seem somewhat strange to ignore ourselves in that case then wouldn't it?

For Lynne...

Wed, 16 Feb 2011 14:09:00 +0000

I am dedicating this blog to a dear friend of ours, Lynne Cassells who passed away yesterday after a lengthy battle with cancer.

Lynne and her husband David have been close friends with my wife and I for almost thirty years and her loss leaves a huge hole in our lives that can never be filled.

I first met Lynne when I started turning up at church because I happened to be interested in Grace. It wasn't a big church by any means then, and so I soon got to know everyone fairly quickly after Grace finally gave in and agreed to us dating: and Lynne was right there from the word go with her fun filled enthusiasm, encouraging us along. Grace and I were in our late teens then and David and Lynne, who had not been married that long themselves at this stage, were in their early twenties.

Lynne always impressed me. She was so full of focused energy, knowing exactly what she wanted to do and then going and doing it: not letting anything stand in the way of something she passionately believed in.

It wasn't too long before all of us were working together on the leadership team of our youth fellowship, and we always felt more secure when Lynne was around. She just seemed to know how to do things...and even if she didn't, she never let a simple fact like that stop her from doing it anyway. At times she could be belligerent with the best of them when it came to potentially having to give ground on something she passionately believed in, but she was always one of the most gentle people I have ever had the privilege to know. She knew how to have a laugh, and was always the first to get up to mischief. I can see her even now, in my minds eye, giggling impishly after yet another attempt to give someone a wedgie. She also became the object of most of our pranks and affectionate teasing: always giving as good as she got.

She was one of us.

Lynne also had a beautiful voice and was constantly beside me in our years together, leading worship in our home church of Lurgan Elim. Her harmonies were always perfect and more than one person would comment on how well our voices worked together. In fact, as I am writing this, I remember the first time we actually performed with each other. It was well over twenty five years ago (if not more) at one of our Church Christmas Dinners. In those days, after the main meal, a few of us would get to do a little party piece as part of the after dinner entertainment. This particular year, our church had hired the local civic centre, and so all the acts were going to be on the main stage. I had asked Lynne if she would like to sing with me, and so we got up and sang together for the very first time. And the song we performed? “Bright eyes” by Art Garfunkel. The words of which will carry a more weighty meaning after this sad week.

When she first took ill a few years ago, and had to stop singing in church, we missed her dreadfully. Church was never the same, and I think we always felt kind of incomplete, like somebody had cut one of our limbs off or something. It wasn't long after that, that I began to get a lot of work outside of our home church, which eventually resulted in Grace and I not being there that often...but it never really felt the same for some reason anyway when we were there: and I think a huge part of that was our friend's forced absence.

Church is always about people; and home is about the people we love.

For many, many years the four of us (Lynne, David, Grace and I) were virtually inseparable: hanging out constantly with each other and holidaying together. I remember one summer when the four of us got addicted to a video game called “Wonder boy” on the old Sega Master System. It was a platform game, which involved getting a little dude in a grass skirt through successive levels to his final destination (which we never actually got to see to come to think of it). The problem was that, twenty years ago, games systems didn't have memories: so when you turned them off, you had to start from the beginning again. For at least two weeks of the summer, we would be in each others houses almost every night, trying to work our way through the game...from the very beginning. The net result of course was, the further we would get into the game, the longer it took each successive night to get back to where we had left off: which meant that, in the latter stages of game play, we would only be picking up where we had left off by the early hours of the morning. So, we got into the routine of breaking out strawberries and ice-cream around 2am.

The amazing thing was, that this nightly tradition had absolutely no impact on us when we eventually had to get up for work that morning! Oh the energy of youth. If we tried to do that now, it would probably take a week to recover after one late night/early morning.

That really was a truly memorable summer.

Lynne and David were also the only people outside of my own family who travelled to Cornwall with us to meet my family down there. It has always been something of a personal special bond in my own heart to know that they had met many of my Cornish connection, and that Lynne and David got to see the village where my Mum's family came from. I remember us all standing on the quayside in Flushing, looking across to Falmouth and how proud I felt that people I love were seeing somewhere that is special to me. That's a connection that means a great deal to me, and no one else has entered that inner sanctum since.

I miss our friend terribly...my wife and I both do.

She was the best of us all among our group. Over her many years of faithful service, she has affected, influenced and inspired hundreds and hundreds of kids for good through her youth work. She was a masterful organiser and visionary, full of joy and passion. A beautiful person who leaves a lasting legacy through her work with the Campaigners Youth organisation...but more importantly through the love she leaves behind in our hearts.

Losing someone you love is never easy, and though we celebrate the life of a wonderful friend...we mourn her loss deeply. This is the bitter-sweet nature of love. We will have many tears to shed in the days ahead, both of joy and sadness.

The last time Grace and I saw her was at Christmas time, before she went rapidly downhill in health and we were no longer able to visit, because of her deteriorating condition. We ached to see her, but understood that the nature of circumstance didn't make it practical. But on that last time, as we prayed with her and said goodnight, I leant over her as she sat in her chair, and kissed her forehead. It's a memory that is burned into my mind...because, although I wasn't aware of it, that really was goodbye.

The Bible encourages us to greet each other with a “Holy kiss”...and that's perhaps because we should never assume that we know what tomorrow is going to bring. True love and care for each other is not something to delay or hide...for a time will come when those we love will no longer be among us.

I thank God that Lynne believed passionately in God, and take great comfort in the knowledge that the love of God, that surpasses understanding, is embracing her right now, without hinderance. My friend is truly free.

Good bye our beautiful friend. Until we all meet again. x

Lynne Cassells 1961 - 2011

BESs