Spending a lot of time in Coffee shops as I do, there is a particular aspect of human nature that intrigues me and, in my opinion, reflects our “modern” lifestyles: The Coffee to go Culture.

Coffee shops, which are institutions sent from heaven as far as I am concerned, have zeroed in on a very prevalent issue in today’s society – the fact that nobody seems to have any time to stop any more as we all seem to be spending our days scurrying from one task or dead end to another like mice in the maze of some lab somewhere.  We frantically buzz around in a seemingly constant state of stress as we desperately try to accomplish all the daily tasks that are expected and required of us.  So the coffee stores, not wishing for us to be robbed of one of life’s little luxuries, designed speed friendly containers to put our favourite hot beverages into, making them comfortable to hold whilst simultaneously helping us to avoid any nasty spillages with the addition of a nice lid with a little hole through which the glorious nectar is dispensed - genius.

But why?  Why are we running around so much?  Why are we so obsessed with being active?

Our modern world is a place of frantic activity and unfortunately it appears to be getting faster.  When the computer was first being unveiled to the expectant masses it came with the promise that it would make life so much easier for everyone.  Soon, we were told, we would all have so much free time on our hands that our next challenge would be how to fill it all; but alas, this was not to be.  Instead of us all spending our days gracefully dancing through vast fields of rich green grass and enjoying idyllic family picnics, most of us find ourselves chained to the very thing that was supposed to make our lives easier!  Yes, the computer did indeed speed up many of our tasks in the work place, but instead of using the extra time we saved to relax and enjoy life, we just discovered that we could then accomplish more tasks in a day than ever before – and life, in essence began to speed up.

What is the one thing that overcomes everything that lies in its path?

What is the one thing that is truly unstoppable?

What is the one thing that survives when all else fails?

And what is sometimes the hardest thing to maintain?

Love

Such a truly wonderful and painfully vibrant word: love

To act every day and in every way in love has got to be the “Holy grail” of life.  Imagine what life would be like if love was our only motivation.  Imagine what would happen to our society if every single one of us made a conscious decision to act in love:  No more arguments?  No more homelessness? No more poverty?  No more war?  No more rudeness?  No more cheating?  No more greed?  No more loneliness?  No more suspicion?  No more crime?  No more extortion?  No more exploitation?  No more thoughtlessness?  No more selfishness?

Wow…what a thought!  And how do I feel when I think of how wonderful our world could be if only we all chose to act in love?  I feel sad.  Not because I wish everyone else would act like this in order to make things better; but I feel a bit sad because, if the entire world were really a place of true and boundless love, I would probably be the one who would end up ruining it for everyone else!

You see, the easiest thing in the world is for me to complain about how the world should treat me better.  The hardest thing in the world is to turn it on myself and complain about how I may be treating everyone else; and this is the challenge of life.  Jesus said “Love one another as I have loved you”, and He gave everything that He had for every last one of us and set the standard.

Love one another. 

Surely this has got to be the best of the better ways?  It’s so ludicrously simple and yet so annoyingly difficult.  But I guess if it were easy, then in some way love would lose its value.  Perhaps real love has to be difficult in order to make it special.

I’ve been doing a lot reading lately about how to change the way we think about things – how to become more positive and proactive; and through all that I have read, there appears to be several very powerful tools that we can apply that the experts say can help us achieve our full potential.  One of those tools is visualization.

It effectively means playing little movies of situations in your head.  For example: let’s say you wanted to climb Mount Everest one day (why anyone would want to do that I will never know).  If you visualise in your mind the fact that it is far too high a mountain and you will never be able to make it past base camp, then guess what…you will never even attempt it.  If, however, you can see yourself making the arduous trek through the Himalayas, climbing steadily upwards through snow and over the frozen sides of that infamous mountain range, until you are standing a top that most defiant of all the great mountains with your own personal flag planted on the pinnacle, then guess what…yes, you will be in much better shape to have a go at it and will stand more of a chance of succeeding (providing you do all your training, proper preparation and bring all the right equipment).  Visualization apparently gives your brain something to aim for, and so it then goes through a process of actually figuring out how to bring that into the real world.

The technical term is apparently called Gestalt.

So I got to thinking…what if I applied this to my walk of faith with the Lord?

I think most of us are the basically the same, especially when it comes to significant times of the year.  Take New Year for example.  I’m sure that there are few of us who don’t feel just a little anxious when it comes to the arrival of a New Year.  What will happen?  What’s around the corner?  Will I be able to cope with the inevitable twists and turns that each year brings our way?  Will this year be better then the last or worse?  And so anxiety creeps up behind us through the celebrations of the Christmas period like the bogeyman and begins to whisper those little disturbing thoughts of doubt into our ears until, standing on the threshold of another New Year, we once again feel like a novice about to make his first bungee jump – praying desperately that we’re not about to become human pizza on the ground far below while all the time musing over the thought that perhaps today is one of those days that your mother always warned about when she chided you about making sure you had clean underwear on.

Yes…I think a little visit from the anxiety monster is all part of the transition from one year to another.  It’s unavoidable.  Most of us just don’t like change or the thought of getting older, and so there’s nothing like the ushering in of a New Year to remind us of the very real fact that both are still with us for the long haul.  So what can we do about it?  What can we do when that tidal wave of anxious despair threatens to capsize the little ship that is our life?

Christmas – is there any other time of the year where our collective expectations are all at their highest?  And yet, unless we are under ten years of age, we all also know that this is the one “celebration” that just has not got a snowballs chance in hell of ever living up to the idealistic image of the perfect holiday that we all long for.  Why?  Why has such a wonderful festival of hope become such a monumental strain and burden?

I think the answer is simple really – expectation.  It’s our expectations that give us all the difficulties and that inevitably put far too much pressure on us all.  We are continually bombarded from all sides by what other people say Christmas should be like.  Products and services are perpetually paraded in front of us reinforcing this “perfect Christmas” imagery, and promising that the “Christmas you have always longed for” is only a mere credit card swipe away.  And so we rush around like crusading knights on some fabled quest to secure the “Holy Grail” of the perfect Christmas.

My advice: forget it.

One of our biggest enemies in life is the pressure of expectation – and every single one of us suffers from it.  We are continually buying into the “perfect” images that other people are selling us.  We look at the rich and the famous and wish we looked like them; had the skills or gifts they have or had the bank accounts they have.  We look at other people around us and wish we were more like them.  We listen to what other people say how we should be, and when we fail to match that standard, we get discouraged or even depressed.  The problem with trying to live up to expectations, whether our own, or other people’s, is that we are doomed to fail from the start.  We can never be that perfect image that we have in our heads or see on the TV.  Just like that ever elusive quintessential Christmas that we all long for year after year, the image of who we wish we were, can become an ever increasing burden that will forever lay before us, just out of reach – tormenting us. 

Contentment is what we lack - that long lost art of being at peace with ourselves.  I find that people who are at peace with themselves and content, are the easiest people to be around.  They never seem to put pressure on others around them to be something else.  It is a pleasure to be in their company because they are not continually complaining or being judgmental, and always allowing others to be themselves without trying to promote their own ideals and opinions. 

Now I am not saying that having a goal to aim for is not a good thing.  Having something to aim for is something that everyone should have, so that we can work toward something and improve ourselves along the way – but we should always be aware of this simple fact: it is not the reaching of that goal which is the most important thing, but rather our willingness to take the journey towards it.  It’s not the goal that changes us – it’s what we experience on the journey that does that.  We may never become what we feel we should be – but that’s ok.  What is enough is that we are prepared to make the journey towards it, and realise that we will very often fail.  Failure is not a sign of weakness – it’s a sign of someone being prepared to have a go. 

So Christmas may not be all it’s built up to be – but that’s no reason to get all upset about it.  Let’s just be willing to “have a go”, and give ourselves, and everyone else around us, room to get it wrong. 

Be patient – God’s not finished with any of us yet.  You may only be work in progress…but, let’s face it, any kind progress is still progress. 

Hear the wisdom of the Eagles, then and just learn to – “Take it easy”.

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Anyone who really knows me, also knows that I am really concerned about something that seems to be happening with alarming regularity; and that is the number of people who are taking their own lives or at least attempting to do so.

Those of you who have heard me speak at some events will know that I sometimes talk about this very serious and extremely important problem.  I personally do not think that we talk about this enough.  Too many times we just sweep the fact that most people, and I do mean most people, at some stage in their lives will consider trying to kill themselves; and if left unchecked, this thought process can gain momentum and lead to someone actually making a real attempt to do this act.

I know exactly what it is like to have those kinds of thoughts.  I’ve been through some really painful experiences in my life and understand how our minds can get so mixed up that suicide seems the only reasonable solution – but believe me, it’s not a solution at all. 

I have faced some really difficult circumstances (and still am to be honest) that have no obvious solution.  I have done things that I am not proud of.  There are certainly people who know me who just can’t stand the sight of me, and the pain that that brings can be unbearable at times; especially when it seems that they are the ones whom, for some inexplicable reason, I keep bumping into the most!  But I am learning not to let what I perceive other people think about me, be how I think of myself.  The hardest thing in the world is to come face to face with your own failures and inabilities – to see the worst parts of your self - but I am also learning that these feelings of hopelessness and fear do not need to be permanent.  

I spent some time with my Grandfather the other day.  In his nineties now, I find sitting with him, in the latter years of his life, a very captivating, interesting and moving experience.  Every time I visit him, the conversation will very quickly turn to the same subject: his war memories.  When he was younger he would rarely have spoken about the war, and would often get quite angry as he recalled some of the memories of that awful experience; yet over the last decade he has spoken more and more about that significant time in our world’s history and the part he played in it.

On this occasion he shared with me something that I had never heard before.  He told me of how he believes his life was saved by the flu! 

Now, like any man, I hate getting the flu.  It’s an awful thing.  I know there are far more serious illnesses around on the earth that really do warrant attention more so than the common cold or flu, but indulge me – I really do hate it. I hate that feeling I get when I know it is maliciously creeping up on me, like some vicious germ infested ninja.  I hate the aches that work from head to toe.  I hate that my sleep gets disrupted.  I hate that I know that I will inevitably end up on the sofa in the middle of the night tossing and turning, whilst having to endure the mindless drivel that passes for entertainment on the TV at that time of the night; and the feeling of despair that engulfs me as I realise that I also have the horrors of daytime television laying before me!  And I really hate that even though I cry out to God for mercy…he still lets me get it!  I hate it, I hate it and I hate it! (You’re probably getting the picture by now).

So when my Grandfather told me that he owes his life to that dreaded infestation that is the flu, I could not help but wonder how anyone could have anything other than loathing for this common plague of humanity.  But here’s how:

My Grandfather was with the allied forces on D-Day as they landed on the beaches of Normandy.  He fought amidst the hellish terror of those first hours as the allies landed in France and the invasion of Europe began.  Having survived the treacherous boarding of the landing crafts, when many a young man, weighed down by cumbersome pack backs, would lose their footing while clambering down the side of the ships only to be instantly swallowed by the ocean; and almost inconceivably coming through the frightening lottery of angry bullets and shells raining down upon them as they struggled through the water towards the beach, while friends and companions were falling dead or wounded all around; my Grandfather eventually found himself lying in an orchard, debilitated by this most simple of ailments.  It seemed as though the common flu was able to do what the mass forces of fascism seemed incapable of doing: taking my Grandfather out of the action.  For two days he was left lying on his own as the fever ran its course through his body.  By the time he was well enough to move, his unit, the Welsh Fusiliers (which always amuses me because he’s a pure bred Scot), were long gone and working their way up the French coast with the main force, liberating each town and village in turn.  Lagging behind, he was left playing “catch up” as he travelled up the coast on his own, without provisions or support, in an attempt to rejoin his unit.  It took him a week to reach them.

If you didn’t already know, I live in Northern Ireland, in a town called Lurgan.  Now Lurgan is not what you would call the most pretty of Northern Ireland’s towns.  It doesn’t have any long sweeping beaches like Portstewart or a posh marina like Bangor; neither is it nestled beneath lofty mountains like Newcastle or resting on either side of an estuary like Londonderry (or Derry if you like).  There are few things that are picturesque about Lurgan.  Up until recently our most significant supermarket was housed in a building that looks more like a cold war bomb shelter, prompting a friend of mine to refer to it as a “funny little underground Tesco” (something I still giggle about now, even though we have a brand new, state of the art, superstore to brighten up our lives).  No – Lurgan doesn’t have that much to shout about from a visual point of view…except perhaps for one thing: a little recognised gem that lies to some degree, hidden right at the heart of the town – its park.

Lurgan park, in my opinion, is probably one of the most beautiful parks in Northern Ireland.  Now I know that many people are probably hopping up and down at this point yelling “Not true! Not true!” and I have no doubt that thier locality may have a park that is equal in their opinion to the one that straddles Lurgan; but there is a feature about the park in Lurgan that, for me, beats every other contender hands down – and it is the tree lined avenue that runs almost its full length.

Running from virtually one side of the park to the other is an avenue of almost perfectly lined, and gloriously mature, Beech trees (at least I think they are Beech).  Walking into Lurgan park from either one of its main gateways, you step onto this majestic tree lined carriageway (for that is what it originally was) that stretches out into the distance.  It is a truly breath taking view and one of the most inspirational walks I ever take; and that is exactly what I did today – I took a walk through our park and did some thinking. 

This avenue never fails to inspire me, and the most mesmerising aspect of it is the fact that it changes, as you would expect, with the seasons and this morning turned out to be one of the most exciting days to walk along it.  Autumn is in full swing; the leaves, having turned to their rich autumnal hues, are now leaving the sanctuary of the trees and tumbling gracefully to the ground, making a crisp, crunchy sounding carpet beneath them.  As I began to walk along the avenue, with warm sunlight streaming through the branches of the Beech tree guard of honour; I felt the tell-tale brush of a light breeze blowing across my path.  As I looked ahead, I could see what I hoped I would be there: for each time the breeze ruffled through the branches of the trees, a host of leaves would leave their seats and flutter to the ground, creating a thin veil of copper and gold through which each avenue pilgrim was having to walk - just magical.

For me this is the beauty of God and His awe inspiring creation at work; and yet it is also the wonderful creativity of man.  For God made the trees and designed them to change their colours at the same time – and yet it was man who decided it would be a really great idea to put them all in a line on either side of a little road.  And where does man get his creativity from?  Well…the leaf never falls far from the tree does it?  We are all the creation of God and so we carry His overwhelming desire to create. 

Why do I love Lurgan park so much?  Because it reminds me of my Heavenly Father and how well He does things, and also how this human race that we are a part of, even with all our potential to destroy and hurt, can do some really great stuff when we put our minds and hearts to it.

So if you are ever in the area – look for our park, and take a walk along the avenue for yourself.  Believe me…you won’t be disappointed.

Having not been in the city for a couple of weeks, I took an impromptu race down to Belfast on Thursday for a quick flurry around the centre and to pick up something for lunch.  It was a lovely day – almost as if summer had decided to make it fabled late appearance, and so I decided to grab a sandwich and find somewhere pleasant to have a munch and think in the sun.  Wandering around I found myself in front of the city hall, which sits regally in the very heart of the city, so I made myself comfortable at the feet of good old Queen Victoria herself, and began to nibble my Tesco’s finest fare as I looked out on the bustling city and the fast flowing sea of people that were hurrying to and fro.

One of the things that also like to do however, whenever I am in towns, but more especially in cities because of the greater range of architecture, is to look upwards, towards the tops of buildings that make up the surrounding environment.   So as I had my lunch I turned my gaze up and had a good old look at the buildings that were encompassing me.  What intrigued me when I began to do this was a little feature on all of the older buildings. Many of these structures had more ornate tops to them, quite often culminating in various types of towers and mini dome-like pinnacles, but these were not the features that drew my attention the most.  It was something that all of theses turrets and spires had in common: they all had some kind of plain, or ornate spike sticking out of the top of them – a lightening rod!

When these buildings were being designed, someone realised that erecting a tall building with a spire would always have the potential to attract the odd lightening bolt.  Now it is a well known and documented fact that any object which is unfortunate enough to be struck by lightening will suffer some sort of damage, which can be anything from some minor surface scarring to being completely incinerated (Lightening bolts carrying a hefty punch with them – 1.21 Gigawatts according to Professor Emmet Brown.)  Making provision for a way to deal with all that power being directed at one specific point at one specific moment therefore seems like good planning to me.  The lightening bolt should, theoretically, hit the tallest part of the building, the lightening rod, and be channelled down the copper strip that is attached to it towards the earth where it safely disperses without anyone inside the building being flattened by falling rubble or ending up with a hairstyle like an 80’s footballer.

I think it is interesting however that the insurance industry refers to these happenings as “acts of God”.  God, by His very nature, is very powerful indeed and if He decided to “hit us with His power” then that would surely be a most memorable moment.   How we seem to long for those times of being exposed to the raw power of God!  How the church appears to cry out for those “acts of God” to be directed at us!  Perhaps, however, it is God’s mercy that prevents Him visiting us in such a way – for maybe, just maybe, our feeble man-made structures haven’t been built to expect such an overwhelmingly powerful thing; and if it were to happen, then there might well be the metaphorical equivalent of broken masonry and frizzy hairdos strewn everywhere. 

Just a thought.

They appear to be doing a lot of work outside one of the city centre coffee shops I can often find myself in, which doesn’t make for one of the most inspirational views from the first floor window, but interesting never the less.

There are presently various sizes and depths of holes that have been carved into the ground - all with differing purposes I should imagine.  Not being someone who is in any way knowledgeable about any aspect of the building trade (and caring even less to be honest), the ultimate plan for these trenches and cavities wouldn’t usually occupy my ponderings, except for one thing at the moment.  As I look down, I can see that someone has decided to use one of the scooped out hollows for a something other than what it was designed for – because lying at its base is an empty, plastic water bottle.

What is it about us Homo Sapiens that makes us act so carelessly?  What is it about  us as a species that, upon seeing a hole, automatically causes us to think “great, I can bury something!”?  This just about sums up our mentality sometimes, for rather than thoughtfully dealing with our rubbish and unwanted “stuff”, we look around for somewhere handy where we can dump it – end of problem!  But it’s not…is it?  Plastic doesn’t degrade that easily you see.  Oh yes, the earth may be pushed over it and that little bottle may disappear from immediate view for quite sometime – but it will still be there, waiting patiently beneath the surface for its moment of resurrection.

There are ways to deal with these issues properly, that can produce positive results – things that will benefit rather than detract or destroy; and its exactly the same for our emotional struggles.  There are ways to work through our “baggage” that can bring healing and not hurt.  Simply burying difficulties and worries beneath the surface, deep inside us can be disastrous, because – just like plastic – they don’t degrade that easily.  In fact, they have the potential to get bigger.  Talking is a good way to process those things that trouble us and is what the Bible refers to as “Confession”.  Confession is not simply telling someone about the stuff that we’ve done wrong or that we are struggling with – it’s much more than that.  It’s an opportunity for us to let the real us out - to allow our struggles and fears to have a voice in order that we can find perspective through the eyes of another.

 “We all need a little tenderness” is what Don Henley sings in his song forgiveness, and it’s fundamentally true.  Find someone who you can trust to not judge you and talk things through with them.  I have some close friends who have helped me through some really difficult times over the last year – and all they really did was listen.  They didn’t try to give me bucket loads of advice, but simply came and put an arm around me when I was hurting so much that I thought I wouldn’t be able to go on – and I appreciate them for it.  They didn’t judge me or try to control me – they just loved me.

Don’t bury your stuff or try to bottle things up – talk to someone; and if you are someone who is being asked to do the listening…then listen with grace and tenderness.  We are not all the same; and what you may find easy – someone else may find a struggle; but that doesn’t mean that you are right and they are wrong.  It just means you are different.

Bless you in the name of Jesus.

Ever just sit back and wonder what on earth is going on? 

I seem to spend my life like that these days.  Any of you who have kept dropping by my blog over the last year or so, will know that there has been a lot happening in our little neck of the woods.  It has seemed, in many ways, that Grace and I have found ourselves lurching wildly from one challenge or disaster (depending on your perspective I guess) to another; and quite often we look at each other and just say “What on earth is going on?”

First there was my Dad, and hero, being taken home to be with Jesus; then came several storms that sprang from some people around us and left us reeling from the severity of some of their comments (words do hurt by the way); then came a very personal trial that seemed to stretched the very fabric of who I am, and which has changed me fundamentally as a person; then…when the dust seemed to be settling and Grace and I seemed to be breathing a sigh of relief, my father-in-law ended up in a horrific, “Hollywood movie” style car crash that potentially could have killed him but which, thank God, all turned out well; then finally, just when we thought it was “safe to go back in the water” – one of our best, and closest life-long friends was diagnosed with a very aggressive brain tumour, and our world was thrown into turmoil once again.

“What on earth is going on?”  That’s our standard phrase these days, and no one can give us an answer.

But - and thank God for that little word – there is hope to be found.  When all else around us seems to be securely in the realm of the weird and inexplicable, I think we can reach out, however weakly, and grasp on to some hope; and this is it: 

God really does know what He is doing.

Now I am not going to say that this means that we will be able to explain everything that happens to us, or even try to understand why things happen like they do, because that just doesn’t seem to be the case most of the time; however, I have learned that holding on to this simple faith statement can keep you from going mad in the face of all we have to wrestle with sometimes – and believe me…I have been very close to going really mad in the last year especially.

Now I don’t pretend for one minute to understand the stuff that my wife and I have, and still are going through; but I do know that God is always at work. 

Here’s how I know this:

In late July of last year, not long after my Dad had died, I was in a prayer meeting when a dear friend of mine who is a very respected Presbyterian minister, came to me after we had all prayed and said that he had felt during the whole time we were praying, that he had wanted to go over to me and punch me in the chest!  I remember giving him a rather worried look and taking a step backwards just in case he still felt that way.  He looked at me intently and said that it was the kind of punch that a paramedic might give to someone in order to get their heart started, but added that he didn’t know why because he knew that I “wasn’t the kind of person who needed more sensitivity” – his words not mine.

It wasn’t until after circumstances took another turn for the worse in the September of that year, that I began to think about what he had told me, because for nearly three months I carried an actual physical pain in my chest – and it wasn’t a heart attack – it actually felt as though someone had in fact, punched me there!  My conclusion to this was simple – God knew it was going to happen and there was nothing I could do about it. For some reason, the script was already written and I had been cast to play this role.

Writing this now, I have the added benefit of even more hindsight and still feel the same way, if not even more so.  I have become convinced that God uses these trials and “testings” to do some of His most profound work in our lives. 

Am I different because of what I have, and still am going through?  Undoubtedly, yes.  Am I a better person for having been through these things?  Again, I say yes, and others around me have commented on how much softer and open I have become.  Another dear friend of mine often asks God to make her circumstances “Glorious”, and I have no doubt that God answers her prayer.  How can He not respond to the invitation to be involved in our lives to such an extent?  He is our Father God, and His only desire is to simply walk with us day by day.  He’s not looking for slaves and servants – He’s simply after us; and because of that He uses the most bizarre and controversial of circumstances to get a hold of us sometimes.  Just look at the life of Jesus – can u get any more bizarre than people walking on water and waltzing out from tombs, or more controversial than calling the religious elite “hypocrites” and “snakes”?

Is there a plan?  Yes.  Do I know what it will mean for me or how it will impact my own life?  No.  But that doesn’t stop me from still taking the journey, because that’s where it all happens – on the daily road of life; and that is where we get to really know our Father God.

I am much more relaxed these days because I believe that God actually does know what He is doing and that He will indeed, make it glorious in His perfect time.  I cling to this, because if I don’t – then I will be lost to the pain that perpetually threatens to overwhelm this frail human heart of mine. 

So take heart: God is definitely good – all the time!

“Well?” I asked, as I walked into the little waiting area of the hospital ward where I had left my father-in-law a few hours previously, “How did it go?”

We had made the journey down to Belfast to keep an early morning appointment that had been made for him by his own doctor.  The pain in his back and left leg that had been troubling him, had been down to one of the disks in his lower spine that was beginning to wear away; and so the treatment would involve a rather brutal looking needle being pushed into the damaged area and it being injected with something that would relieve the pain and help to reinforce the tissue around the disk in some way.  It doesn’t sound pleasant, and neither was it – according to my father-in-law.  “Oh the pain was awful.” He replied, as we walked slowly out of the ward and made our way back to my car.

I love chatting with Grace’s dad.  He is one of those people who almost seem to indulge in too much thinking for his own good, as he continues on a never ending quest to try and plumb the depths of the foreboding lake that is theology.  The upshot of which is, however, that a conversation with him is never shallow, and always leaves you with almost more questions than answers.  When I was younger, I used to struggle with some of his thought processes, preferring to continue marching to the sound of my own “I’m always right and have got it all sorted out” parade; but age and life have long since taught me the error of my ways youthful ways.  Now I listen and try to engage him on a level where we both come away with a greater understanding of each other than to simply spar with our opposing views.  To his credit he never got as frustrated as I always seemed to – but then again, it is sometimes only the passage of time and experience that can teach that…as well as suffering; and that was our conversation topic for our journey home.

We chatted about our own experiences of the “trials of life” and how God appears to use suffering to sometimes do His greatest work in our lives.  A life that has not wrestled and struggled against the tumultuous tide of life, is a life that is at its best, shallow and two dimensional; lacking that flavour and deep hues that can only come through experiencing difficulties and  quite often failure.  I doubt if there are any of us, who believe in the Almighty, who have not struggled with the idea of suffering being allowed, if not instigated by God.  It is abhorrent to our natural mind that suffering can be part of the process of healing; and yet my father-in-law and I both had to conclude that we had been changed by difficulties in each of our lives, and that those changes, as well as being irreversible, were necessary for our development as people.  No one wants to get hurt or go through pain, and I would be foolish to say that absolutely every tragic circumstance or trial has a purpose, although there is no doubt that God can use these things to shape us; but consider the words of the consultant who injected that whopping great needle into my father-in-law’s spine:

Consultant –     “Does it hurt?”

Patient -           “Yes.”

Consultant -      “Good.  That means it’s working and it’ll do you some good.”

Settled in a first floor armchair of Starbucks in the middle of Belfasts busy pedestrian precinct, a nice hot cup of Earl Grey tea in my hand, I lifted my head momentarily from the book I was reading and gazed out the window.  Down below me, the street was seeing the usual activity, with varying combinations of intrepid and eager shoppers hurrying by; a healthy scattering of city professionals, probably glad of a few moments of freedom from the manic Monday morning madness in the office and a few street entertainers (who all appeared to be armed with accordions for some reason, making me think that it was some sort of national Accordion Festival that I was hitherto unaware of – or perhaps the advance force of the feared “Legion of Accordionaires”, who plan to overthrow the Government in a mildy bloody, yet annoyingly musical coup d’etat – I knew they would do it…but no one would listen to me!.)

As I stared out the window for those brief moments, my eyes fell on a redundant shop front across the street.  Only a few weeks ago it had been, or at least always appeared to be, a thriving business.  But now it was closed.  “Oh dear…” I thought “another business gone.”   Thinking no more of it, I turned back to my book and proceeded to pick up where I had left off.  Suddenly I stopped.  Looking back out the window I took more time to survey the now empty shop.  I studied the space where the name of the business had been and suddenly saw how sad and dejected that little shop unit now looked – and then I thought about the owners of the business – the people behind the missing sign and papered over windows.  We see these sights everyday of our lives – these little tell tale signs that give us a glimpse of an even greater human drama that has probably unfolded behind the scenes; for shops do not spring up and disappear of their own accord, like mushrooms or toadstools in your garden.  It’s always down to people – real people lie behind these fascias; people with hopes, dreams and aspirations.  People with families who depend on them or who are at the very least  cheering them on in the hope that success will grant the ever elusive sense of self worth that their loved one has long sought for.  I thought about those employees thrown out into the job market once again, being swamped with their anxieties and fears.  I really felt that I had done those people an injustice by not taking time to acknowledge their effort - by not taking time to consider them.

You see, last night I was speaking at a church, and the crux of what I was saying was that the Gospel demands us to be outward looking in our approach to life.  In life we can be far too focused on our own little stories, when the outworking of the Gospel or “Good News” was summed up by Jesus when he said “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”  If I had tried my hardest to make a business work only to see it collapse around me, then I would take some comfort (no matter how small) in the fact that someone, somewhere, cared.  So I thought about them, and took time to care and even prayed for them.

“…keep at your work, this faith and love rooted in Christ, set out for you…” 

2 Tim 1 v 13

Paul was writing to Timothy for the last time.  This was the last letter that Timothy would receive from his mentor, friend and spiritual father.  From now on, Timothy was going to have to go on without any fresh words of encouragement from someone who had invested so much in his life and ministry.  I often wonder how many times did the young man Timothy return to this letter and read again those words.  How often, when he found his faith wavering in the face of the struggles of everyday life (not to mention the pressures of leading a church), was Timothy anchored and spurred on by those timely words of Paul’s?

I had a friend who encouraged me greatly and in many ways spoke into my life for a short time.  I never see or hear from them now, for reasons that I don't need to go into, but that doesn’t mean that they have stopped speaking into my life.  They actually used to have this verse from 2 Timothy as they’re tag line on one of those instant messaging systems that we all seem to use these days, and it still comes up as part of my contact list.  Their account has long since been inactive as life and circumstances have moved on, but the tag line still remains – “keep at your work, this faith and love rooted in Christ, set out for you…” and it still does what it was intended to do by its original author, Paul, and by all who have quoted it since.  In fact, it has more than encouraged me – it has at times saved my life and kept me true to the calling that God has given me.  The temptation to quit – to throw my hands in the air and stomp off into the distance in a fit of petulant frustration (because everything hasn’t gone quite the way I had expected it to), has been overwhelming at times in recent months; but this exhortation from the past has held me firm like being in the grip of one of those huge pro-wrestlers.  When I wanted to squirm out of what I believe I have to do – the work that God has “set out for me”, I have found that I am captured by it and cannot escape. 

Did my friend intend this little quotation to be used in such a powerful and profound way?  Probably not – but that’s not the point.  Paul probably didn’t know the effect his letters were going to have either; but God did…and that’s what makes the difference.

Paul was still speaking into Timothy’s life long after he had been called home to heaven I believe; as my friend, and all those others who have passed through my life continue to do for me.  We may not be perfect and our relationships may be seriously flawed in many different ways – but never underestimate God’s ability to use the most broken of circumstances and people to inspire our hearts and encourage us to just keep going.  Words that are led by God and inspired by His Holy Spirit, keep us on the narrow way; and I for one, value the things God continues to say to me through the words of the wonderful people that God has used to encourage me as I struggle to walk the path, and continue the work that has been set out for me. 

Some days are more difficult than others whilst others seem to be almost effortless – today I seemed to wake up in the former category.  The storm clouds in my mind were probably gathering for most of the week to be honest, as memories of past hurts and failures, missed opportunities and future fears swam about my head like mocking apparitions.  No matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to break free from the grip of these waking nightmarish memories and fears.  The more I tried to struggle against them, the more I seemed to sink.  I felt like some lonesome cowboy in an old western television series – you know…the guy who ends up falling into the pit of quick-sand.  Boy that used to terrify me.  Everyone knew that if you fell into quick-sand that you were well and truly stuffed – unless you were friends with “Champion the Wonder Horse” of course. 

The trouble with quick-sand is that the more you struggle the worse it gets.  You have to make slow movements; trying not to panic – which is easier said than done when you are up to your neck in liquid sand that’s threatening to pull you under in to some kind of bottomless pit!  I often wondered where all the people and horses went to when they were sucked under the surface.  Did the pit suck them off to the centre of the earth?  Perhaps the hapless victims just disintegrated the second they disappeared below the surface, or maybe they were actually sucked straight through some kind of magic tunnel that spat them out on some gorgeous beach somewhere in Hawaii?  (I wouldn’t like to have been the one to test that particular theory by the way)

So there I was this morning, embedded on a sofa in my local Starbucks, struggling to free myself from the pain that was threatening to overwhelm me, when past the window skipped a little girl in a pair of ruby slippers!  Right out of the blue she seemed to come, holding on tightly to the hand of her Daddy.  It was the one thing that snapped me out the darkness enveloping me, for in that moment I remembered that just because life isn’t necessarily a nice fairytale with all the loose ends tied up by the end of the story, doesn’t mean that there still can’t be those moments of pure “magic” – the moments when the weight of the world disappears and we loose ourselves, not in the harshness of reality, but in the beautiful soft caress of belief.  Jesus said we were to come to Him like little children, and the great thing about children is their capacity to believe.  Perhaps we should all be given a pair of ruby slippers or a Superman t-shirt when we come to faith in Jesus – just to remind us to believe.

Pure “magic”.

I have just returned from an eight day trip to the vast country that is India, and have spent all of my time at home so far, recovering from a nasty bout of what they call “Delhi-Belly”.  I managed to contract this on the penultimate day of our trip, which was a blessing in one way because it didn’t effect my involvement in the Renewal Conference that I was leading worship and teaching at; but it did make for an interesting journey on an overnight train on the Sunday night before we returned home – to say the least!  I can quite honestly say that I was never so glad to see my own home and beautiful wife again having been locked in a hotel room for 24 hours while I desperately prayed for God to help me be well enough to make the 2 hour road journey and 11 hour flight home.  Praise God I made it!  I didn’t care that the dreaded D-Belly came back with a vengeance when I did arrive home, because at least I was there!

So what did all the damage?  What caused all this discomfort and sickness?

An apple.

Yes – it was a good old apple.  It looked, on the face of it, like any other apple.  We had been working our way through our breakfast in the conference center quite merrily, just like the previous four mornings, enjoying the thoughtful mix of Indian and European food that the staff had prepared for us.  Normally, as was my custom, I completed my breakfast with a banana (They have such a wide range of different varieties of bananas unlike my local supermarket).  But on Sunday morning I wanted more and eyed up one of the lovely looking apples that was kindly placed on our table.  David, who was serving us, promptly cut it for me, and I gleefully munched away pausing only for a mere nano-second to notice the very small drop of water that lay on the plate where the apple had once been.  And therein lies my folly – for that little drop of water was later to fill my mind as my head hovered unsteadily over the sink in a small and Spartan bathroom on the over-night train to the city of Vellor; for in that moment I realised what I had done.  I had done the very thing that we were warned we should never do – eat anything that had been washed in the local water – oops. 

It was just an apple – just a simple piece of fruit!  I could have done without out it.  There was enough on the breakfast table for me to choose from, to fill me, without me having to risk that apple - but I wasn’t content.  I had to take the “forbidden fruit”!

I wonder if that’s what Adam thought to himself.  And look at the whole heap of trouble that caused!  A moment of thoughtless action, not considering our ways carefully enough, can lead to a much longer time of regret and pain.  “Sow the wind and reap the whirlwind” is how the Bible puts it.  Some of those little acts of selfish gratification come with a much higher price tag than we initially realise. 

Think about it.

It's been a while since I posted and entry for my blog, which is probably a sign of two things:

1. I'm really busy

2. I'm healing

In fact, come to think of it - the two are pretty much linked.  God has been keeping me at it lately and bring new relationships into our lives here and many new doors of opportunity seem to be opening quite literally on a daily basis.  This in itself has been quite a huge surprise to me.  Before Christmas (November actually), when I was still struggling with the wake that the trials of life had left behind, I quite literally handed everthing back to God and asked Him to take it all.  At that stage my diary for the New Year was empty - and I was glad of that.  I did not feel up to serving in any public way at all - but God had other ideas.  He hasn't been letting me go at all; and in that I see once again that there is a divine purpose for each of us to fulfill.  When God calls you - He equips you.  But He also keeps you going...sometimes whether you like it or not.  So I am busier than ever with a lot of new things and directions on the horizon.  

His patience and care is overwhelming sometimes.  I long to be for others what He is for me - but I guess you become like the people you hang out with the most; so therein lies my answer: spend more time hanging out with Jesus.

I've been endeavouring more and more to do that and have found myself drawn to the gospels once again.  J.C. Ryle once said that if people were to spend more time reading the accounts of Jesus' life on earth than any other part of the Bible, then they would all be in much better shape spiritually.  I think he is right.  Reading the gospels however, is like a culture shock.  Jesus was just so different in the way He acted and lived.  I've posted my first thought from the gospels on my "Think again" page on my web site ( www.andioakes.com), and I'm sure I'll have cause to post some more in the near future.  My hope is that you too begin to see Jesus in a fresh way - to see Him in the way his first disciples must have, as they struggled to come to terms with this walking paradox who was Jesus Christ.  A man who was seen as a foolish "upstart"