There’s something we lose over time as Christians. It’s so subtle we don’t even realise we lost it, or that we ever had it to begin with.

Recognition.

Sounds odd to say, but we lose sight of recognising what the Word actually is.

John reminds us in the passage we hear at school Christmas pageants (in England anyway. I know the American system is too afraid of Christianity to allow it to be taught in public schools. Yes I know I just lost the American readers.) or blown with hot air from the pulpit during December but it gets forgotten the rest of the year.

In the beginning [before all time] was the Word (<sup class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-AMP-26046a" data-link="[a]”>Christ), and the Word was with God, and<sup class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-AMP-26046b" data-link="[b]”> the Word was God Himself. (John 1:1 Amplified)

It’s so subtle we overlook it. The Word was God Himself.

John goes to great lengths in his opening chapter to remind his readers that Jesus is the Word. He point out that the Word is God, not something apart from Him, but fully God.

We lose sight of Jesus as the Word most of the time. When our Sunday School teachers say we must learn to know the Word they mean almost invariably that we must memorise chunks of scripture to repeat to our parents.

We don’t recognise that the physical Bible, whilst it gives us a window into the heart of the Word is not the Word. Jesus is, and knowing Him comes through allowing the Holy Spirit to live in and through us as we read the book.

It means learning the heart of God and seeing with His eyes the way Jesus did.

Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you so long, and yet you have not known Me, Philip? He who has seen Me has seen the Father; so how can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father in Me? The words that I speak to you I do not speak on My own authority; but the Father who dwells in Me does the works. Believe Me that I am in the Father and the Father in Me, or else believe Me for the sake of the works themselves. (John 14:9-11 NKJV)

 Jesus is explicit about His unity with the Father. The intertwining of Jesus and the Father is repeated three times in these three verses. Jesus takes this moment, just hours before He will be arrested, to remind His friends who He is – and they still miss the point after the arrest.

I take great comfort in the humanity of the disciples. Specifically their fallibility. They make mistakes. Thomas doubts. Peter hides. Philip asks dumb questions.

I take comfort because I doubt. I hide. I ask really dumb questions.

God chose to build the Church on people like you and me. Flawed and fallible, capable of intense love and unspeakable cruelty. I guess James and John didn’t get the nickname “sons of thunder” because they were timid.

So Jesus invites us to know Him intimately. Far more than an intellectual study of translations of Greek and Hebrew manuscripts, He invites us to know His character. He longs for us to see His personality.

John Eldridge, an author I have enormous respect for, wrote an amazing book a couple of years ago looking at the personality of Jesus. “Beautiful Outlaw” breaks the mold of the dusty Jesus from the church I grew up in. The sallow features and spotless robes with sandals perfectly laced and a neatly combed haircut looking remarkably like a refugee from the 1970s singing “Stuck in the Middle With You” alongside Gerry Rafferty and Stealers Wheel were shattered for me when I read it and recognised the Jesus I’d met and given my life to. The character of the God I adore is a perfect version of humanity. With all our emotions, all our passions, Jesus is a real person. He’s approachable.

I met a great teacher called Mike Yaconelli in 1991. Sadly he’s no longer on this earth, and I believe the church here is poorer for it. He was a key speaker at the Greenbelt Art Festival in the UK that year. His messages inspired me and I bought a copy of his book, “Yak, Yak, Yak” and the tapes of the meetings. I took the book with me to a talk he was giving and afterwards went up to ask him to sign it. Not being the extrovert I am today I was nervous about this. I tripped over my words and dropped the book and the pen I had and felt like a complete fool. Composing myself I gathered up the pen and book and apologised for being nervous. He flashed a smile with a twinkle in his eye as he saw my pen – a white ball-point with a big fluffy purple head stuck to the cap. I’m a big buy – six feet tall and almost 200lbs then – and he chuckled and said “If I looked like you and had this pen, I’d be nervous too!”

It completely broke the barrier of nerves I’d had. We chatted for a few minutes and he signed the book. In that moment, the real nature of God broke through my nerves and I saw this man not as “The Teacher”, but as my brother. It was a pure work of the Holy Spirit shattering my preconceptions about him and myself.

In him I saw the character of Jesus. Almost mischievous in nature, breaking boundaries and conventions set up by men to bring real laughter and joy into a moment.

In that moment – and hundreds of others – I got to know the Word as He inhabited us.

But simply knowing isn’t enough. We need to do the Word.

I assure you and most solemnly say to you, anyone who believes in Me [as Savior] will also do the things that I do; and he will do even greater things than these [in extent and outreach], because I am going to the Father. And I will do whatever you ask in My name [as My representative], this I will do, so that the Father may be glorified and celebrated in the Son. If you ask Me anything in My name [as My representative], I will do it.  (John 14:12-14 Amplified)

Jesus invites us to do what He does. Just like He was doing what the Father did, He invites us to do the same and even more than He had done.

Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve not (yet) prayed for someone to rise from the dead. I’ve had occasion to pray with the sick and lay hands on people – with mixed results – and I’ve had people pray for and lay hands on me for healing of everything from sprained ankles to diabetes – again with mixed results.

I’ve never commanded a storm to be still or walked on water (I don’t think ice skating counts) and I’m often at a loss for words – believe it or not.

In spite of this I’m getting bolder. I’m making steps – albeit small ones – towards where I believe God is calling me and what I’m supposed to do when I get there. I don’t imagine when Peter climbed out of the boat his first few step were confident strides, and that’s how I feel right now. There are storms blowing around me right now which may mean me uprooting my life in South Africa and returning to England for a while. But I’m trying to do what I believe Jesus would do if He were here in my place with the gifts I have and the resources I can access.

I don’t mind admitting I’m nervous, but I’m excited as well.

I’ve mentioned in other posts that I’m having counselling for PTSD at the moment. It’s traumatic and I’m having to re-live parts of my past I’ve tried to bury for three decades, but I can feel Jesus in this time coming in like a balm on an open wound. I cry for the loss of my brother now, something I’ve not been able to do for 30 years – and although it hurts, it’s cleansing. It involves allowing the Word to work in me and heal parts of me I’ve not allowed Him access to.

It allows me each week to be a little more whole than the previous week, and a little more able to do things Jesus put on my heart to do that I’ve been putting off in some cases for years. It allows me to do the Word as it is written in my Heart.

So I pray for friends in trouble. I offer help where I can. I do what I believe Jesus would do.

Writing this blog is a part of that. The other projects I have lined up are also a part of it.

We need to – as a group, a body – do the things Jesus did. It’s not just a select few who are called to pray for the sick and see them healed. Jesus never told someone who came to Him with a need to wait. He never said “You need to learn from this”. His actions were a perfect reflection of the Heart of the Father. He healed the sick, restored sight and hearing, cast out demons (yes I believe there are literal demons and a literal Hell) and restored the brokenhearted.

It’s time we start doing that. The early church were called Christians because it meant “little Christs” or “little anointed ones”. They did what Jesus had done. The blind saw, the lame walked, the poor had their needs met by their more affluent brothers and sisters.

We need to do the Word. So we need to get to know Him.

Intimately.

This entry, while not strictly a part of the Survival Kit, is a part of my ongoing journey to healing which I have committed to share in this forum. It is testimony of what God is currently at work in me to bring me closer to the man He has called me to be.

31 years ago on 20th February 1985, my younger brother, Robin, died as a result of a road accident.

The circumstances were that he was on a road he wasn’t supposed to go on because it was a dangerous road with a 60mph speed limit. He was turning right across the traffic to a slip road that was invisible until you were almost on top of it (as a result of his death the roadway has now been changed and is highly visible). He was where he shouldn’t have been, doing what he had expressly been told not to do on a route I had taught him some weeks earlier. The road in question led to a slip-road to the main North-South dual carriageway in the area, the A1, and a road bridge over it. I had taught him a game of sorts. Stand on the bridge and wave at the truckers in the big-rig trucks as they came up to the bridge. Mostly they would wave or sound their horn as they went by. For a kid it was a great rush to be seen and acknowledged by “real” men in the form of these tough drivers.

He was alone because we had had a fight and rather than go with him I had gone out with a friend.

The driver, who out of respect I will not name, never stood a chance of preventing the accident. I have never held what happened against him. Robin’s death was caused by a child making a childish move that could not have been predicted. The driver was not to blame.

I hope he finds this and can understand that I hold no ill-feeling toward him, rather I sympathise with him since as a driver myself I have caused injury to a pedestrian I could not avoid. The action was a terrible tragedy and I truly hope he has been able to forgive himself and not allow guilt to dog him the way it has me for 31 years.

My therapist – yes, I’m a Christian who sees a psychologist. Deal with it. – is helping me open the wounds. I’ve been blessed in that he has qualifications in theology as well as psychology and our sessions have a hefty chunk of pastoral counselling as well as psychological stuff in them. It was something I insisted on in finding the right persona for the job.

Time does not heal wounds. They close over and rot from the inside out if left to fester and not dalt with properly at the time.

My wife and I are watching “Grey’s Anatomy” at the moment, one season every two or three days. Today was difficult. The storyline was a child killed in a road accident and the sibling blaming herself, then the next episode showed one of the central characters being diagnosed with cancer in her brain – a different type to what killed my dad, but just too close to home.

The writing is excellent, but the acting is superb. I felt every emotion the characters went through as the story unfolded. As a result I can’t cry any more tonight – I’d die from dehydration.

Wounds, left to their own devices don’t heal. I have a first class vascular surgeon, Dr James Tunnicliffe, who treats injuries to my feet. I should mention here I can’t actually feel about 30% of my feet and as a result injuries happen that get left untreated will result in me losing one or both legs below the knee. So far the good doctor has been able to save both feet, and I am waiting for my faith to mature to the point where the nerves are restored. I do not believe this illness – diabetes – was “sent” to teach me something. It’s simply not in God’s nature to do that.

Wounds become sores. Sores become lesions. Lesions become infected and before you know it you have gangrene in what started as a pebble in your shoe and one of the best doctors in the country is telling you there’s a possibility you’ll lose your leg.

Emotional wounds are no different.

I was wounded when Robin died. I blamed myself because of the fight we had. I blamed myself for teaching him the route to the A1. I blamed myself for not going with him.

The 12 year-old inside me still does. Healing that child is a work in progress.

My wife is a doctor – and a damn good one. She treats regular stuff, which in South Africa is anything from a scraped knee to AIDS and TB – something First-World governments should consider – as standard day-to-day medicine. She has excised infected boils on my skin and flushed the area. It involved re-opening an old wound to get to the infection underneath, and it was extremely painful.

Until the wound healed.

God is doing that with me at the moment. He has opened up a 31 year old wound that has been eating me from the inside and crippling me every day since 1985. It’s painful. It’s unpleasant.

At the time all I let myself feel was bitterness and rage, and I feel that all the time. Bless her, my poor wife sees the worst of it that I show. Mostly I try to keep it venting to my sessions and my time alone with God. I tell her about it, but she deserves better than to catch the anger and venom that has been building up for so long.

We all have these wounds. I won’t presume to name them, but I know everyone I know is damaged in some way, and they all try to hide it – well, most of them do.

I’ll move on with the next part of the guide to survival in my next entry. This is simply to let you know that you’re not alone in holding onto the pain you carry.

And that Jesus wants to take it from you – if you’ll let him.

If you had [really] known Me, you would also have known My Father. From now on you know Him, and have seen Him. (John 14:7 Amplified)

A central part of the walk we have as Christians is knowing God.

Not knowing about God. Knowing Him.

Having relationship with Him on an intimate level.

Jesus makes an extraordinary statement to the disciples in this chapter. Something 2000 years later we’ve become so used to as a concept that it loses its impact for us.

When the Temple was built there was a room, the Holy of Holies, which was where the Spirit of God dwelt. Once a year the High Priest would make the sacrifices necessary to be ritually clean and enter this room with a rope tied around his leg so if he was struck dead by the Spirit of God he could be pulled out of the chamber.

That Spirit is the representative of the Father. Nobody had dared look on God – not even His most faithful prophets in the Old Testament except Moses. Men could not stand in His presence because His Holiness would consume them.

Jesus tells the disciples that they have seen the Father because they have seen Him. He rebukes Philip for doubting this by asking to be shown the Father, telling him that he’d basically missed the point of the previous 3 years together.

“Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father in Me? The words that I speak to you I do not speak on My own authority; but the Father who dwells in Me does the works. Believe Me that I am in the Father and the Father in Me, or else believe Me for the sake of the works themselves.” (John 14:10-11 NKJV)

I know about God. I’ve been a Christian 30 years and have actually read the entire Bible – and for a guy who has concentration issues around ADD that’s going some. Especially with the genealogies.

I wish I knew God as well as I know about Him. It would make my life much easier.

Don’t get me wrong, I have a deep relationship with Him through Jesus and the Holy Spirit is in my heart, but I have this problem. It weighs about six pounds and sits just above my shoulders and between my ears. My brain is a big problem.

Most people have the same problem – especially those of us unfortunate enough to have been born in Western cultures. We have scientific “answers” to the miraculous that on the surface explain away the need for God and as a result we end up with our faith often becoming little more than a “Get out of Hell Free” card in a transcendental Monopoly game.

My walk in the last ten years has led me to a simple conclusion: I’ve spent too much time learning about God in the past and not enough time getting to know Him on an intimate level. I have intellectual understanding of the historical context of the scriptures and the politics of ancient history, but my experience of the person of God has been put on the back-burner in many ways. Prayer became little more than an intellectual exercise of passing along information, as though I were giving a daily update to my line manager.

Not good.

Jesus calls us to a real relationship with God on a level humanity had lost through Adam.

If we spent time with our wives or husbands talking the way we do to God our marriages would never last a month.

My wife and I do things together. We find reasons to be together. We look for TV shows and movies that we can watch and enjoy together. We build a relationship by spending quality time together. It’s not always easy and it’s not always pretty, but it’s worth it. I’ve seen superficial marriages fall apart at the first bump in the road because the couple didn’t know each other. There was no unity between them so when hard times hit they couldn’t survive the storm.

Our relationship with God needs to be on a level that’s more than superficial. Jesus spent time alone with the Father to be close to Him. Somehow we forget that we need to do that – especially in the West. We have a nominal “quiet time” where we sit and give our daily report, but then we go on as if it’s nothing more than a habit.

Often that’s all it is.

I have several Muslim friends. They are devout and pray five times a day, ritualistically bowing to the East and chanting the same prayers over and over again. They are so desperate to show God they are decent by praying and chanting and eating the right food and drinking the right drinks that they are blind to the fact that they serve the practice of the religion.

We need to be more than that. Jesus died so we could be more than that.

Jesus sacrificed His life so we could have not a religious experience, but a deep and meaningful relationship with Him. He went to the Cross so we could know Him.

It’s easy to slip into a religious routine. Routines are important to the Western society. We are governed by punch-card jobs and timed to the second when we start work. Most employers don’t care how long after the end of your shift you work as long as you start on time. Stay late – it’s expected – and it goes unnoticed. Arrive two minutes late once and you get a formal warning for tardiness. We see this pattern in our work, our schools and our churches. Everything is done to a formula.

Religion replaces relationship and we exchange knowing God with knowing about Him – and we don’t even notice. Instead of laying hands on the sick we send them to a doctor. The disciples and the early church shared everything they had with each other so nobody was in need. They sacrificed personal property for the sake of their neighbour. Today we live in a world where high walls make good neighbours. They prevent us being distracted by the sight of the poverty at our doorstep and allow us to finish our lunch in peace.

How different things are now from then.

The difference is the level of relationship with God. Peter didn’t get the faith to see the cripple at the Temple healed by watching “Survivor”. Stephen’s faith to forgive the men who were killing him didn’t come from an episode of “The Amazing Race”.

These men and women knew God and saw signs and wonders as a result.

We can too.

It was a privilege to watch the late Dave Duell pray for a young teen at a conference and see the boy’s leg grow to the same length as his other one. I’ve met two men who were raised from the dead and one man who has prayed for it – and seen it happen. These men know God.

I’m learning to know Him. I’ve not seen anyone rise from the dead yet, but I’ve not had anyone ask me to pray for it either.

Knowing God takes time. It’s important to take the time to get to know him.

When we hit a crisis – and that’s what these messages during Lent are about – we need to be able to call on the Father we know and not a doctrine we’ve read about.

So have a quiet time, but make it something fresh. Sit and wait to encounter God in a new way and get to know Him.

Lent is a time when – traditionally – we give something up. 40 days (not counting Sundays) running up to Easter where we sacrifice something to draw closer to God.

In theory, anyway.

I’ve never been good at that side of things. I’ve been involved in prayer and fasting both on my own and as part of a group praying toward a common outcome, but the Lenten sacrifice has always been like a New Year Resolution for me. It usually lasts about a week, then I’m back to normal with a shrug and decide to try next year.

Hopefully this year will be a bit different.

I heard a tape set (yes, I’m over 40) back in the mid 1990s by Andrew Wommack focusing on John’s Gospel, specifically chapters 14-16. He called it the “Christian Survival Kit”. He’s also made a set called the “Christian First Aid Kit” based on the same chapters. The most recent versions are available at www.awmi.net for download along with several hundred hours of other teachings. What I’ll write here is not meant to compete with Andrew’s messages, but rather to try to show how a deeper understanding that began with those tapes 20 or so years ago has impacted my life and walk with Jesus, and (hopefully) get across the message that if it can make a difference for me, it can make a difference for anyone.

These entries will have more of a journal-type feel to them than most of my blogs, and be more testimony based. This is deliberate and the result of a lot of prayer before moving into them.

I’m impulsive. I do things quickly, sometimes it appears recklessly and without thinking about possible consequences. I know this about myself. I try to be more measured, but then this whole “carpe diem” bit grabs me and I act on my gut feeling. It’s served me reasonably well my whole life. I trust my instincts from my guts as it’s where I’ve always found God speaking to me first.

Take marriage for example. I dated a girl I met at school for about 3 years, sharing a house with her for the last year of that time. I didn’t follow my gut then, which told me it would be a bad idea with poor consequences emotionally for both of us. When the relationship ended we both got hurt and hurt one another. It was years before we established a distant friendship. My second serious relationship followed a similar pattern. I listened to my head, not my gut, and we were involved for about six months. There were good parts, but I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship. After we broke up we tried to be friends for a while, but I couldn’t sustain it. I tried to reach out a while ago but I guess I hurt her too badly and my attempts went unresponded to.

Then there is my wife. We met in 2001 online. Chatting online was strange for me, and I felt my gut tell me to be completely open with her – so I was. We met in person, got engaged and got married by the end of September 2003. It’s not always easy, but I’ve never regretted it.

But this is about perspective.

Time – they say – heals all wounds.

Garbage.

All time does is allow us to either let a wound fester or give us perspective on it so we can let God heal it. Time on its own only brings in loss.

Jesus tried to tell the disciples on the night of the Last Supper to see things from His perspective. The perspective of Eternity.

Do not let your heart be troubled (afraid, cowardly). Believe [confidently] in God and trust in Him, [have faith, hold on to it, rely on it, keep going and] believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many dwelling places. If it were not so, I would have told you, because I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and I will take you to Myself, so that where I am you may be also. And [to the place] where I am going, you know the way.” Thomas said to Him, “Lord, we do not know where You are going; so how can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “<sup class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-AMP-26675a" data-link="[a]”>I am the [only] Way [to God] and the [real] Truth and the [real] Life; no one comes to the Father but through Me. (John 14:1-6 Amplified)

Jesus asks the disciples to place the same trust in Him as they do in God. Complete, total and absolute trust. When He sent them out in His name earlier in their time together, the disciples cast out demons and healed the sick just at the power of His Name. This was not a new concept to them. Everything in the following chapters was reminding them of what they already not only knew, but already walked in.

He puts an eternal perspective on things, reminding them that this World is not their final destination, but a stop along the way to His Father’s House where a dwelling place waits for them. The King James edition describes it as “mansions”. Whatever form the dwelling place takes, the important thing for perspective is that it is with god and Jesus whatever happens here on Earth. He reminds them that He is going ahead to prepare their (and our) places for them.

I tend to lose sight of that perspective when a crisis hits.

In the 30 years I’ve been a Christian there have only been a couple of times when I’ve kept the perspective Jesus wants us to keep as the waves broke during the storm. I’m forgiven, not perfect. We all are.

It’s more than important that we remember that. It’s vital to being able to keep our feet in the storm crises that hit us all too regularly.

With my second relationship the crisis was life-threatening illness. I lost perspective and could only see the injustice of the issue. The resulting insensitivity I showed drove her away and I resented her for that for a long time because I couldn’t see with the right perspective to offer what she needed her partner – fiance at the time – should have offered.

Perspective defuses anger instantly. I didn’t have a handle on that then. I couldn’t see the perspective I needed to have because I was unable to take a breath.

I’m still impulsive. I still get angry – very angry. So angry it threatens to consume me sometimes. It has an impact on my marriage so I’m seeing a therapist to get a grip on it.

He asked me if I remember the story of the man at the pool that Jesus asks if he wants to be well. I’ve heard people speak on that passage. I’ve taught on it myself.

It’s the first time anyone put my shortcomings in the spotlight of that perspective. And I got angry. Then I was finally able to ask myself why.

My anger is born out of pain, and a deep desire to avoid it at all costs. The irony is that avoiding that pain by embracing anger actually causes more pain than it solves.

I like Thomas in this chapter. He asks a question and isn’t rebuked. Not every question gets a rebuke for faithlessness from Jesus. Mary asked how she could have a child since she was a virgin and the angel explained. Zechariah asked how it could be possible he would be a father and was rebuked by being struck dumb because of how they asked. Or rather because of the state of their heart when they asked. Thomas, here, asks from the place of not doubt, but seeking instruction – a teachable spirit. And Jesus responds by teaching him. He’s asking how he can get the perspective Jesus is talking about. What does he need to do to gain the offer Jesus is giving them. There’s no doubt of the sincerity of Jesus’s offer here, just a man wanting to receive the offer.

This passage, more than any other, should put to death any notion of all religions worshipping the same deity.  “Jesus said to him, “I am the [only] Way [to God] and the [real] Truth and the [real] Life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.” The only Way to God.

It again comes to the point of perspective. Once we accept that Jesus is the only route to relationship with God we can move on in confidence and get away from (in my case) the anger holding us back – or whatever it is that blinds us to what God is offering through Jesus.

Look through a telescope and it enlarges whatever you point it at. Turn it round and it shrinks it. We live our lives with the telescope backwards – especially in Westernised cultures. We focus on the problem right in front of us, not the possibility that God is and has the solution to it.

Turn the scope around. It’s not easy, but it’s always possible.

Get God’s perspective.

It’s a fine line sometimes to find friends when we’ve experienced loss.

I’ve recently started to unpack some baggage I stored away in 1985 when my younger brother died. Revisiting those emotions and trying to finally after 31 years to heal what turn out to be very raw wounds has been harrowing to say the least.

At time of writing I am committed to seeing someone to help me through this over the next few weeks. He thinks we can work through a lot in six sessions. Given the intensity of the sessions already past I think it could go either way.

Here’s what insight I’m learning about myself and how God is working into the centre of the pain now that I’m finally letting Him. The next few weeks will probably see more entries in this vein as I explore my past and what I’ve allowed it to turn me into today.

I’m angry.

In fact, I passed angry many years ago and moved into rage. Furious and uncontrolled rage. I thought it gave me power and drive. I used it to keep myself going when I felt like quitting as a teenager after Robin’s death.

Let me tell the story…

February 1985 was cold. I was busy with growing up in a town in England called Stamford. It’s in the East Midlands near Peterborough and Leicester. Robin and I were just starting to move from the “constant bickering” phase of childhood brothers into the “friendship” phase that (usually) continues throughout adult life. We were beginning to do things together that didn’t involve “accidentally” turning off his computer game as he was about to set a high score or outpacing him so I could be on my own.

I was going to be 13 in the April and Robin would be 10 at the end of March. I remember that I remembered how I felt the night before m 10th birthday. The reality that the next time there would be a change in the number of numbers in my age would only happen in 2072 held me with awe. I had no doubt that I would reach 100 years old, but wasn’t sure what I’d do until then. Robin had asked me what it was like to enter “double figures”. I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know. I just did it, like everyone does.

Snow fell at the start of half term break. Robin was in bed having had an operation to expose permanent teeth the previous week. The Wednesday would be Ash Wednesday, which meant on Tuesday we got pancakes!

On the Wednesday Robin would be allowed to go outside for the first time since the operation. His mouth had healed enough that the cold air wouldn’t give him pain in the wound. I was going for a walk with a friend from school – this is long before Facebook or Twitter. Back then we actually went out and did things like walking and cycling as kids. Robin pestered me to come along but I wanted some time with one of the few friends I had without him tagging along. A typical argument with flared tempers and he went off on his own and I went off with Marc.

My memories of that day are very clear. February 20th 1985. I have almost no memory of before that day. My entire childhood blanked out before that day. Remembering was too painful. It is still excruciating for me to even try to remember. Sometimes something will slip back in that I know is a memory because it’s something I never told anyone about, so they couldn’t tell me the story so many times I didn’t know if it was a memory or not. But some of it is very present. Moments with him. The gradual change from hostility to friendship between brothers and the forming of a life-long bond.

Marc called for me around 9:30. The argument with Robin ensued and ended with words spoken in anger by me. He went his way and I went mine with Marc.

We walked miles through the wintry countryside. Stamford is more built up now than it was back then. The housing estate was big then and had more than doubled in size last time I visited the town about 8 years ago – it’s about 6000 miles from Cape Town so I don’t get back very often. We talked about stuff 12 year old boys were interested in. Guns, school, teachers, the relief of being off for a week. Our brothers. Marc had a younger brother too, but he and Robin didn’t know one another. We talked about flying as we both wanted to be in the Air Force. Normal boys stuff.

On the way home we went past my dad’s old boss’s house. Mr Walker was out in his garden and we stopped and chatted. He was very fond of Robin. George Walker was retired and I knew him independently of my dad as one of the bass singers in the church choir. Robin had just joined alongside me as a treble. He had a beautiful voice. I was the head chorister and soloist, but it was obvious that the solos would not be mine once Robin hit his stride as a singer. As head chorister I got to mentor him a little bit. I was proud to. It was a part of the whole friends bit we were growing into.

I got a chill through me while we were talking to Mr Walker and we went back to Marc’s home to play in the snow. It was about 12:30 now. We’d been playing for a while when Marc’s mum leaned out of the window. My dad had just called to ask them to send me home as Robin had been in a slight accident and may have to go to the hospital. I ran home – it wasn’t too far for a 12 year old to run – and was laughing at the thought of teasing Robin over having a plaster-cast like I’d had the previous year as I opened the gate.

In front of me was what was left of Robin’s bike.

It had been mine originally. Bright red with “Snipe” written down the frame. I’d traded up for a more adult bike and Robin had inherited this one, although his new more adult bike was in the shed. He hadn’t used it much as it was still a bit too large for him, but the speed he was growing it wouldn’t be long.

Now the red bike was buckled in half and twisted in a grotesque shape, the back wheel no longer vertical to the front and even if it had been it would only have gone in circles.

I can still feel the knot in my stomach as dad opened the back door.

I was sent to quickly run – not allowed to use my bike – anywhere I knew Robin might have gone. It was normal for us to let other kids we were friends with use our bikes and us use theirs. I went looking, but I already knew I wouldn’t find him. Not after dad told me where they found the bike.

1pm I was back from my search. The police were there now waiting for me to arrive to take us to Peterborough Hospital. That meant it was serious. Stamford Hospital couldn’t handle major cases so they got sent to Peterborough. Flashing blue lights at 100 mph to Peterborough. 15 miles in about 8 minutes. We got there and mum and dad were asked to identify the boy in intensive care. I was shown to a side room and given a cup of tea. With about 8 spoons of sugar in it.

2pm. It was Robin. He was on a ventilator but hadn’t stabilised from the trauma yet. the next few hours would be critical. He was not showing any higher brain function. I remember them saying that but not really understanding what it meant. They said “coma” and “persistent vegetative state”. I knew what that meant.

They arranged a taxi to take us back to Stamford. I threw up about a mile from home so dad and I walked from there. Mum went back in the car.

2:30pm We got back and mum was calling the family to tell them what had happened. Dad took over.

2:45pm So much was happening it didn’t feel real. I expected to wake up any second.

3pm The phone rang – an incoming call. Dad answered I think. “We’re very sorry to tell you…”

Robin’s heart had stopped at 2:55pm and they felt given the extent of brain damage he had suffered that trying to restart it would not be in his or our best interests. That was when I learned he was actually “living dead” when we’d gone to the hospital. No higher brain activity meant brain-death had occurred.

The doctor arrived to treat us for shock and we had to get her a cup of tea to steady her nerves when we told her Robin had died.

The vicar, John, arrived at some point and tried to comfort us. It didn’t feel real. I felt like the victim of the sickest joke ever.

5:30pm I was allowed to call Marc. All I got out was “He’s dead. Robin’s dead” before I broke down and so did he. Our dad’s took the phones from us and my dad explained to his what had happened.

6pm I was sent to a friend and neighbour’s house while mum and dad went back to the hospital. Originally I was to sleep there as they were going to sit by his bedside. There wasn’t any point now.

Sometime later that night I was collected and taken home. I didn’t sleep that night. I just lay awake staring at the ceiling.

I remember dad washing the coat Robin had been wearing by hand. Blood in the water. Blood on his hands. Robin’s blood. Tears on his cheeks.

Then I lost him. I began to shut down the memory of having Robin in my life.

My friends Marc and Kevin (whose family I’d gone to when mum and dad went back to the hospital) supported me as best they could. I’d known Kevin my whole life. We’d grown up together. Marc had been a good friend despite peer pressure at school to distance from me. I really appreciated that. We’d been friends for about a year having only met at secondary school.

Time passed. At some point that week I went and visited Robin’s body at the funeral home. He was so cold. I didn’t know a person could feel that cold. The funeral was a week to the day after the accident. During that week I don’t think we had a full hour to ourselves. Friends and neighbours couldn’t visit enough to check on us.

Thursday 28th February 1985. The day after the funeral.

I don’t remember a single call or knock on the door that day. Or the next. Or the next.

For everyone else it was over.

Marc and Kev were better. They knew him and we talked about it. But after a few weeks they didn’t want to talk any more either. I don’t blame them now (I did then).

I was utterly alone. I felt I had no friends to turn to and couldn’t talk to mum and dad about it.

I felt abandoned.

Over time – which hardens a person, it doesn’t heal – I learned to fake it. I put on a face for the World like Eleanor Rigby. There were a few people who I let my guard down with though. As a dancer at a boy’s school I’d had it tough finding anything in common with most of my peers, but there was one person at the dancing school who I let myself open up with. We were friends by default initially, then later there was a real friendship. She was the first person I truly cared about after Robin’s death. I never got a chance to tell her as she changed class and I was too insecure to call her. The friendship gave me hope (although a joke played by some of the boys at school unwittingly damaged it – the guys in question I’m certain would not have done what they did had they realised what I’d go through as a result). But hope remained as I knew I could feel something other than pain.

I made a lot of mistakes because of the anger I felt. I got involved with a girl I shouldn’t have simply because she was interested in me. I didn’t know who I was inside at that point and we both ended up hurt because of it.

It was incredibly difficult to find real friendships after losing Robin because of the pain of losing him. Even today, 31 years later, my friends are few, and all significantly younger than me. Partly this is circumstances as I studied as a mature student, but partly it was “safe” for me – I could keep a distance. But it’s a lonely way to live.

Friendships change over time, and especially over distance. Emigration to South Africa in 2003 caused me to lose touch with many people who were very dear to me. Facebook has helped me get back in touch with some of them, but some things pass for ever.

Loss of that nature takes a toll on any friendship. I never imagined growing up that there would be a time when I could say it was over 20 years since I’d had contact with Marc or Kevin, but that day came and went almost 5 years ago now. The friend I had at dancing I’ve lost touch with, although I’m in touch with one or two others from the class.

It’s about trust. Friendship after loss is about trust even more than before. Losing Robin made me face mortality too soon. I didn’t trust people (except one or two) to live long enough to be friends and not cause me pain, and I didn’t trust myself to be able to not cause them that pain either.

That was, and is, the hardest thing.

Trusting yourself again.

This has been a rather long entry to get to this point, but this is the most important thing I’ve learned in the last 30 years:

Loss is part of living. So is friendship.

Central to truly Living is Faith. Through my Faith I have been able to connect with a handful of people over the years by trusting God had put them in my life.

Trusting God was the key. It allowed me to trust myself enough to risk developing friendships I didn’t control. I let Him control them.

And loss still happens. At any given time in the last 25 years there have been a core of about 4 or 5 people at most I would be able to completely drop my guard with at any given time. They saw behind the mask.

Through this season building up to Easter 2016 I’m going to be visiting places inside myself and recording them as testimony here of how God is at work in me. It probably won’t be short entries, and they almost certainly won’t be pretty, but they’ll be real.

Revelation tells us we overcome the enemy by the Blood of the Lamb and the Word of our Testimony “ And they overcame and conquered him because of the blood of the Lamb and because of the word of their testimony, for they did not love their life and renounce their faith even when faced with death.” (Revelation 12:11)

So that’s what Lent is going to be about. A raw testimony of what God is doing in me as it happens. What it means will probably change over time, but I’ll be open and blunt in these entries. My guide will be John 14-16 for the most part.

My dearest friend who has never let me down has been with me since November 1985 inside me since I gave Him my life. My Jesus, My Saviour.

Fully knowing this may get me classified as overly religious I say this: I give Him all honour and Glory and Praise for what He has done and continues to do in and for me. I don’t care what the critics may say. I will not be silent. He has been the truest friend any of us could have, and I’ve met many people who only found that friendship in it’s fullness the way I did.

Friendship after Great Loss…

About 4 years ago I wrote on here Unforgiven about struggling to forgive and who it actually hurts – namely ourselves.

There’s a lot of banter in the news these days about what a “Christian” should be – in accordance with the world’s definition.

The stereotype fits one of two extremes:

1. The Hard-line Conservative. These guys are almost as bad and in some cases worse than the Pharisees of Jesus’s day. They wander around yelling “You’re all going to Hell, Directly to Hell, Do not pass ‘Go’, Do not collects $200”. Their “gospel” is a list of their accomplishments whether they are financial, “philanthropic”, or pseudo-spiritual in nature and they espouse that one can only be a “real” christian if their behaviour is the role model. Their emphasis tends to lie in what we must do: repent, regenerate, seek Christ (their version).
2.  The Hard-line Liberal. These guys are more wishy-washy about their beliefs. They tailor the gospel to fit the person or group they are speaking to and not offend anyone, thereby offending everyone often. It’s hard to find a solid foundation for their stand in scripture but they assure you it’s there. They emphasise the “positives” of their brand; forgiveness, salvation, christianity and heaven but – as William Booth noted in the early 20th Century – they don’t (often) mention the Holy Spirit, repentance, regeneration or Hell.

The problem is, when we talk to the average “unchurched” person they therefore have one of two expectations:

1. Everything Christ did is only complete if I add my effort into it and never even think about anything other than Jesus ever again
2. I can do anything I want because Jesus loves me and forgives me so let’s party now and we’ll have another one in Heaven

Naturally, neither of these is remotely accurate.

“Evangelicals” get lumped in with the right-wing xenophobic, misogynistic, sexist, racists who twist the Bible into a hammer to oppress anyone who dares to disagree with their specific interpretation if they mention Hell.

If they don’t mention Hell then those same people get lumped in with the radical left-wing that says anything goes and in the most extreme cases indicates that all religions worship the same god anyway – pantheistic beliefs like Paul attacked in the New Testament – so what does it matter.

I don’t fit either stereotype. I’ve been labelled as both and told I can’t really be a Christian because I don’t fit either on the same day in the past. I believe that most typical Christians would fall into the gap between.

The problem is it’s the stereotypes that grab the headlines.

I don’t fit the mold.

I watch movies a “good” christian shouldn’t watch. I’m not talking about over-sexed stuff, but I enjoy a good action movie like Braveheart, Home Front and the Terminator series. I enjoy the pure fantasy movies that have come from Marvel’s stable recently like the Avengers and X-Men series that bear no resemblance to real-life at all, and I particularly enjoyed Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit and the Narnia movies in recent years.

Not your stereotypical christian’s choice in movies.

I also spend a lot of time in the Word. More time than I do in movies. I listen to sermon recordings most nights before (and sometimes while) I fall asleep for several hours at a time. I focus my thoughts as best as I can during the day on what I find God in when I wake up. Some days it’s easier than others, but it’s always there.

I look for where Christ leads me for regeneration, not to make myself regenerate. I look for the direction He leads me in for healing of a physical and emotional nature. I’ve received miraculous healings of a sudden nature many times when I’ve been injured and I’ve seen dramatic changes in my daily health as I draw closer to Him. There are things I’ve not received a full healing from yet, but I know that has more to do with my ability to receive than His willingness to give.

Now don’t get all tied up with that. My ability to receive has nothing to do with my works any more than yours does. I simply have a block in my head that stops me being able to believe it’s done. Those blocks get broken down over time and healing progresses. I was healed of gout about 11 years ago when it got past the block in my brain that I could be healed of it. I stopped the medication as a result of that faith and have never had a problem since.

Please note: Faith produces Action – Action does not produce Faith!

I take medication for diabetes. Have done for over 15 years. Diabetes is classed as a “progressive” illness, meaning it gets worse as time goes on, affecting eyesight, kidneys and other issues. When I was diagnosed I wasn’t equipped spiritually to rebuke the diagnosis or receive healing for it. It progressed for a couple of years then something changed in me. I listened to an old tape from a conference I had attended several years earlier given by Dave Duell, and it shifted something inside me. I began to be able to receive that which God has for me in some areas of my life. In the case of the diabetes it has stopped progressing. I’ve changed medications for more modern drugs than I was taking, but not had to increase my medication levels, and in the last six months I’ve begun to see the levels of excess sugar in my blood stream dropping first to normal levels, and now more regularly to low levels – indicating I may be able to reduce my doses.

I’m going to say this again: ACTION DOES NOT PRODUCE FAITH!

I have faith that I am being healed – at the pace I am able to receive it, not necessarily the speed God would want to heal me. I believe God wants me healed more than I want to be, but I’m human. He looks at me (or you) and sees His Son. I (or you) look in the mirror and see every flaw and sin between us. As a result I don’t get perfect results receiving for myself. Often when we pray we get better results of answered prayer when we pray for a stranger or a friend than for ourselves because it’s easier to ignore the enemy’s jibes about their past than it is about our own. I know that’s what gets in the way for me – well, that and my stubborn heart. So 16 years after I was told this issue affected me, and had been doing so for some time, I was told I have the eyes and kidney function of a non-diabetic last year.

It’s a small personal victory, but a victory nonetheless.

I don’t claim to have completed the journey of Faith in this issue, but I’ve started down the road.

That’s a “typical” response for today’s Christians – especially in the Westernised world where modern healthcare and conveniences mean we can forget to rely on God for our every need.

In developing countries there is a deeper understanding of God’s true Nature as our source and as a result many more testimonies come from those countries than the West of miraculous healings, provision and other miracles.

The modern stereotypes diminish God in the eyes of the developed world to a fable or myth and the Bible as nothing more than a code of ethics and stories for children.

But we are inhabited by the Holy Spirit. It’s time to shake loose the stereotypes and get back to the core of the Gospel. We need to find the words to say we’re not stereotypes.

Let’s get back to believing the way Peter did when he spoke on the day of Pentecost and 5000 people joined the Church in Jerusalem. The way he did when he met the cripple at the gate of the temple and commanded him to walk in Jesus’s Name.

We have the same Spirit.

That should be typical Christianity…

In recent weeks I’ve been overwhelmed with the number of articles about the US election race and this has affected my writing and the direction of this blog.

I’m not apologising for the recent posts. I hope I would have written the same thing about any potential world-changing event that has the potential to change the face of perceived Christian values by a major power in the World. I make no claim to know the state of the soul of any of the candidates – that is simply a matter between them and our Lord as it is for all of us. We are not called to judge others, but we can look at the fruit of their words and consider the source.

Enough of politics. I’m not a politician and have no desire to be.

I’m a fighter. When you’re involved in ministry for any length of time you need to be. We are fighting a war that makes all human wars combined look like throwing stones on a playground by pre-school children.

I tried to take a break from the battle. I had moved not only towns, but continents and decided I wanted a break from church involvement to rest a while.

I made a mistake. A big one.

There’s a reason we’re told not to forsake the company of the believers. We provide support to one another in times of trial and hardship.

After too long away my brother-in-law and his wife invited me to join them at their church not far from my home last year. I’d visited other churches closer in the previous years – I note that of the many I had visited only one is still in existence – and found the majority teaching a twisted version of the “prosperity” gospel, “give for personal gain” was the basic message. The majority of the members were on subsistence incomes (if that) and yet their pastor arrived in a brand new BMW. It felt wrong so I didn’t return.

The church my family invited me to (and the one other that is still running) didn’t do that. Don’t do that. They seek to provide a refuge for the battle weary and scarred members who have been fighting Spiritual battles for many years.

I chose the church I now attend, not because my family go there, but because I felt God tell me “You’re safe here David. Take some time and heal”.

So that’s what I’m doing. A kind of sabbatical break from direct Spiritual Warfare, engaging in battle only when absolutely necessary.

Of course we face daily battles, and opposition to writing this blog alone is extreme. I tend to write and post in the small hours of the morning when normal people are asleep because it’s a time I can use to stop and sit with Jesus. The fruit of those meetings sometimes ends up as an entry here. Sometimes it’s too personal and it doesn’t.

I’m 43 now. I’ll be 44 in April. Christian for 30 years and on the battle lines for most of that. I made mistakes when I was a kid of 19 that prevented me from going to study to be an Anglican minister. The biggest was having a fight with the vicar who had been supportive until then when he learned that when I left home I would be sharing a home with the girl I was dating. With hindsight we both could have handled the conversation better. I was an angry teen and always looking for a reason to vent that anger but was afraid because of my physical size to do so physically in case I injured someone. I stuck to being alone and away from teams as a result.

Things changed when I left home. I moved to Devon and got involved with the Christian Union at my girlfriend’s university. We did some crazy things. All night prayer meetings then driving up into the middle of Dartmoor to watch the sunrise. We produced an audio version of several magazines for a member of the group born blind who had asked us not to pray for him to be given sight. The years went by and the group changed as some folk left and new ones joined. I was single again and not looking – but that’s another story – and after a short time I realised I was quickly going to be far older than the other members. I was involved in a local church that suffered a deep-felt loss when the parish church was destroyed by arsonists. It uncovered some deep felt anger in the town over “outsiders” like myself who despite being from a West-country family were not from the town itself and had been elected to the church council that had to make the hard decisions regarding how to proceed. It was eventually the “outsiders” who were forced to make the choices as we were the ones sitting in the majority at the time to build a new church and not rebuild the old one.

The vicar, a dear friend who has since passed on to be with Jesus, made the choice and set the wheels in motion. Then with resentment building towards him and his “allies” (of which I was one) he elected to resign and move to another parish. His last Sunday at the church was also mine.

I moved to a vibrant church in the next town with a group growing around my own age. We formed tight friendships, some of which have survived me moving hemispheres to marry, and which I know will endure as long as we live. We lived and worked and played together, not just on a Sunday but dinner at each others homes, crazy night-time drives to go and pray in the middle of nowhere on the spur of the moment and packing 7 or 8 people into my Peugeot 205 to do it. We Prayed and played together, sharing our lives in a real community I believe Peter and Paul would have been proud of. We knew what was going on in each others lives and we could provide rest for the battle-scarred among us as a result.

Time moved on and so did I to a new church in Torquay. And when I say “new” I mean about 30 regulars. We knew what was going on to an extent, but it was harder. I became hardened emotionally when my engagement ended and my dad died just before I moved church. I was told it was over a year at that church before anyone saw me smile, but despite that I was invited to help with the welcoming and the youth and children’s work – something that threw newcomers as I was going through an outwardly rebellious time: I bought a Harley-Davidson, grew my hair and beard so I looked like a refugee from ZZ Top and made a point of not caring what people thought of how I looked. Amazingly, after a few minutes chatting to me none of them seemed to care how I looked either. I lost track of how many babies tried to pull my beard out and how many little girls plaited my hair during that year. It was a time I was able to be ministered to by God through the children and my scars could close if not fully heal.

All the time I was itching for a good Spiritual fight, and I often got what I was looking for. I’d come away battered and bleeding but victorious. I didn’t realise how much I needed to rest though.

So when I moved to Cape Town to get married I saw it as a time to rest from the fight.

Of course, kicking away the ladder that put you where you are while you’re still standing on it is not a smart thing to do. It is, however, exactly what I did. It would be almost a decade before I became a regular attendee of a local church again – and that’s still a work in progress as there’s a difference between “attendee” and “member”. I realised I’ve become distrustful and wary of people because I’ve spent too much time away from the family that is the Church.

I’ve been fighting life-or-death battles for over five years and have felt completely alone for much of that time. There have been bright moments when God has put just the right person into my life to help me focus on what I should be looking at, reminding me of who I am. Those people have been God’s instruments to save my life (you know who you are!).

In all that time I didn’t rest. I forgot to.

Then it hit me. Jesus needed to rest.

Jesus needed rest

I realised I needed to rest in Him before I could fight effectively the way I need to to battle for my family and the growing number of men and women who have written to me voicing support for this blog. I feel your prayers and support Spiritually and I hope you are aware of mine for you in return.

Rest. It’s such a simple concept in theory. But we resist it in this busy world.

We resist it because the World says it’s a sign of weakness.

But God needed it.

We listen to the media.

Jesus didn’t.

Remember to rest. To all my fellow warriors – everyone reading this – take time each day to rest and recharge your Spirit. I didn’t for a long time and it nearly cost me everything.

Now I’m scarred, but I’m rested and I’m ready for battle again.

Make sure you are too. 

It’s been interesting, or should I say disturbing, reading about the US election candidates vying for their respective party’s nomination for POTUS.

Ted Cruz may have killed any chance of gaining his party’s nomination by stating on the record that he places his Christianity above his nationality. I’ve read too many shredding articles to count here, but just do a google search for “Christian first American second” and your page will explode.

I’ll be honest (some call me “tactless” or “insensitive” for this). I don’t know much about Ted Cruz. I know what I’ve been able to glean from the internet – not much other than the fallout from this statement recently and calling on comparisons with other religions and how it would have been received had a Muslim or Jewish candidate made that same declaration.

Frankly I don’t believe there would have been as much of a ruckus about it. He would have simply been sidelined quietly and sent back to whichever state would take him. The issue is that he said his Christianity was more important to him than his country.

Strangely, Jesus delivered the same message. He never said “I’m an Israelite first and Son of God second”. His disciples and the writers of the New Testament recognised in very short order that Jesus was not restricted by human boundaries. He raised the daughter of Jairus, a pious Jew when He was asked to, and he healed a Roman Centurion’s servant with no less willingness because of one thing: Faith.

The problem is we are faced globally with religious fundamentalism in it’s most extreme form. I’m not talking about Daesh here. I’m talking about pseudo-christian organisations purporting to be God’s mouthpiece be they conservative or liberal in their theology many are willing to use violence to demonstrate their supposed worship of the Prince of Peace.

The hypocrisy is astounding.

Since I’ve mentioned Mr Cruz I’ll mention The Donald as well. Donald Trump’s representatives have touted him as a man of deep faith and moral conviction, a man whose christian beliefs are important to him. Yet what he spouts from the podium would actually get him arrested in many countries for hate-speech and inciting violence. This religious extremist with a bad haircut seeks to blame immigrants for all America’s problems, especially if they are Muslim immigrants. There was a short, dark-haired chap in the 1930’s who said a lot of very similar rhetoric about Germany and blamed minorities, immigrants, homosexuals, and anyone else who didn’t agree with his way of viewing the world. He appealed to the masses of a broken society the same way Trump does.

The result was World War 2 and the Holocaust.

Religious extremism in the church led to the Inquisition, the rise of the Ku Klux Klan, the Crusades and countless atrocities committed in the name of Jesus.

How far our faith has come from the first century when as Christians were fed to the animals in the Coliseum and Circus Maximus in Rome people converted in their hundreds and leapt into the pit to join the condemned martyrs.

How weak we have become that we have to twist the words of Christ into a hammer to beat down our fellow man and subjugate him into slavery and submission.

The official polls show Christianity in the decline in the West, mainly because they look at attendance of mainstream churches like the Anglicans and the Roman Catholics. They don’t take into account the growth of the number of small churches worldwide who meet in secret in North Korea, China, Myanmar (Burma), Pakistan and other places where Christianity is regulated at best and mostly outlawed. They don’t see the growing number of “house-churches” in the West where Christians not rejected by the Westboro Baptist Church for being too liberal meet and worship in Spirit and in Truth.

I notice the front-runners have all declared themselves to be members or attached to mainstream denominations.

These days I have to introduce myself as “I’m a Christian, but not like XXXX is” (fill in your candidate of choice).

Jesus was not politically correct, but He did it to forward God’s agenda, not to win votes. In fact by not being PC in His time He ended up nailed to a Roman Cross.

We need to guard our mouths when we speak. We are told that we speak out what our heart is full of. So much of what is reported in these speeches and debates is fear, anger and hate. Where is the Holy Spirit in these men and women? If they are what they claim, why do we not hear Peace, Forgiveness and Love from the candidates and their supporters?

Christian Extremists are more likely to destroy Western life as we know it than any number of terrorist attacks Daesh are able to unleash.

Remember the Gospel you first accepted. That fragile ray of hope piercing the dark and cold place we were in when we encountered Jesus. Remember how it grew in us from a spark to an ember to a candle to a furnace burning for the Whole Truth, not one extremist version of it.

Before we can take on the extremists in the Middle East of Daesh effectively we need to clean our own house and tackle the religious extremism present in the right-wing especially so we can go in armed not with guns and bombs, but with the Gospel that went there 2000 years ago when the original disciples and their immediate followers planted Christianity through what is now Iran, Iraq, Syria, Jordan and Palestine. A real message of Peace and Hope for the people lost in the darkness.

But extremism extinguishes the light of hope. Milton in “Paradise Lost” describes the fires of hell as providing not light but rather “darkness visible” and displaying places where hope never comes but unending torture endures. Satan’s extremism led to his fall from God’s presence and he passed it on to mankind.

Clean house Church. Let’s get the plank out of our own eyes before we launch more death in the name of protecting “christian” society.

Root out the extremists. Silence them and their message of fear and hate.

Remember Paul’s words to Timothy:

“ For God did not give us a spirit of timidity or cowardice or fear, but [He has given us a spirit] of power and of love and of sound judgment and personal discipline [abilities that result in a calm, well-balanced mind and self-control].” 2 Timothy 1:7 (Amplified)

Remember it and stop letting the fear a few men have twist the Love of Jesus into something ugly.

A house divided against itself will fall. So Jesus said of Satan’s attempts to overthrow God through this World.

I’ll be honest, I’ve been debating internally whether to write this post for some time as it may cause offense to some, but it’s something that needs to be said and has been burning a hole in my Spirit for some time.

Here goes…

I’m sort of following the impending apocalypse the Americans are referring to as the Party Debates and National Primary Elections. The elections in 2016 effectively make the choice of who is going to be arguably the most powerful individual in the world for the following 5 years.

Inevitably what America does affects the rest of the world and what American “Christians” say tends to colour how Christianity is portrayed in the media.

We are faced with the horrific choices of very few men or women of good moral judgement running for the office. From what I’ve been able to glean each potential candidate has a personal agenda as to why they want to be President – and realistically none of them really have the interests of anyone other than themselves at heart. Listen or read what they say – not just Trump or Clinton, but all of them.

They all at some point have been quoted as stating they are active Christians in various churches.

We are not allowed to judge the person, but we can be inspectors of their fruit, the words of their mouth are the overflow of their hearts.

Every reported speech has been rooted in fear and designed to incite fear. Even the poll results seem to be designed to terrorise the electorate.

And the majority of the World gets no say in who will be the de-facto leader of the West.

The elected dictators in Africa have no real power outside the continent. Mugabe may not live to see another election because of his advanced age or the possibility that eventually someone will get so worked up at his human rights abuses that he’ll be killed – probably by his personal bodyguard. The same could be said for Jacob Zuma and many other “elected” leaders. Their rule is one of fear. They keep education at a minimum because an educated electorate will see through the lies. They limit access to basic health services to the poor majority and drive the best and brightest to leave for countries overseas. I’ve lost track of how many of my classmates from university left South Africa within a year of graduation. I probably would have myself had God not closed that door repeatedly.

Blame is placed on old regimes (in South Africa’s case Apartheid, colonialism in Zimbabwe) yet these regimes fell decades ago. Change has not happened and the countries have simply exchanged poverty driven by the greed of the descendants of immigrant settlers for the greed of indigenous elitists. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Nepotism and corruption are rife and unchecked in many of these countries.

Recently I took a drive from Cape Town to Johannesburg with my wife for a job interview. I was running behind schedule so I put my foot down on a clear, straight stretch of road with no traffic visible for over a mile in front or behind me. I broke the law. Suddenly in my rear view mirror I saw a police car   pull out from behind a bridge support. The inevitable lights flashing and pulled over in the Free State near Bloemfontein. The speed limit is 120kph and I’d been recorded doing 161kph (just over 100mph – 80kph = 50mph). The cop asked me to step out of the car and accompany him to his vehicle where he showed me the readings. Concrete evidence.

Then he gave me a choice: accompany him in handcuffs back to Bloemfontein and wait for a fine of several thousand Rand to be imposed or give him R300 to “take care of the problem”. So I bribed him. I’m not proud of it, but I remembered the parable of the unjust steward and hoped the principle applied in this case!

I have a friend who often misses work because gangs control the streets round her house and she can’t leave because her road is on the border between two territories so there are often shootings. The police won’t enter the area until the shooting stops. I’ve seen them sitting in their vehicles waiting for things to calm down just up the road from her home but out of gang territory. They do nothing.

All it takes for evil to triumph is for men and women of good conscience to do nothing.

Which is where the American issue becomes relevant.

There is one particular front runner in the Republican party who claims he is a christian, yet what comes from his mouth is pure hate. Women, immigrants, Muslims, Mexicans, basically everyone who isn’t a stereotypical redneck is responsible for the problems in America. He’s been endorsed this week by a woman who says the reason her son is a deadbeat woman-beater is the Obama administration. I’m sure she’d be Trump’s running mate, but she has ovaries so it’s unlikely based on his misogynistic and sexist statements.

Truly terrifying.

Actually what is truly scary is that the opposition for his candidacy can’t see that he could easily be ousted. Recent polls show Trump has 30% or thereabouts of the popular vote in the party. That means 70% don’t want him to be leader.

The Democrats are no better. Hillary Clinton’s use of unsecure email channels to send classified reports and documents is beyond irresponsible yet she’s a viable candidate – and she also goes to church.

Look at the fruit of the candidates. Look at the substance not the rhetoric.

Look at it how Jesus would have looked at it.

These men and women basically say you’re not a christian if you vote for someone else. They can’t both be right. In fact they can both be wrong – very wrong.

This isn’t a political blog. And despite it’s content to this point it’s not even a political post.

God designed man to have free will and choice. Adam chose the path of Sin and we suffer the consequences of that thousands of years later. Jesus took the path of Righteousness and we become co-heirs with Him as a result of accepting His sacrifice in our place. It’s a choice.

Note: it’s our choice.

Guns, abortion, crime rates, foreign wars. All used to distract a confused electorate into a state of fear. But we don’t have fear as an inheritance, we have Love. And Faith. And Hope.

Fear is a cancer in society. The “leaders” of society use it to keep hold of their power and money. The vast majority worship mammon not Jesus. They’ll sell out the most vulnerable members of their own society to protect their own fortunes.

There’s still time for men of conscience to make a difference. For men of God (and women of God!) to rise up and say “Enough is Enough” and take a stand for Peace, Hope Faith and Love in the place of fear.

This world gets darker by the day, not just America but the whole world. I have had contact with readers in Burkina Faso before the recent attacks. I pray, and ask you to join me as you read this, that their churches and leaders in those churches are safe and have the strength and courage to stand fast holding the Gospel as a beacon as the darkness closes in. I read of attacks in Kenya – a country I hope to be visiting later this year when God provides the funding for travel – aimed specifically at churches. I’m not afraid to go to these places. None of us should be.

I’ll be straight now: I’m more concerned at the thought of going to parts of America than I am Syria, Myanmar (Burma), Kenya, Pakistan or many other countries where the Gospel has been asking for EWM to visit from the local churches. America is different. Yes, there are parts where the Gospel flourishes in fullness, but the reported statements of those claiming christianity bear so little resemblance to the Gospel of Jesus that they are unrecognisable – yet many of these people genuinely think their belief is right and all the demons are over here in Africa!

Come election day, whoever the candidates are and whatever the result, hold the winner of the election accountable for their actions. Make them live up to their promises that line up with God’s Word.

And not only in America – anywhere where there is a choice to make. Your country, your workplace, your church.

Make your choice.

You have to live with the consequences.

Any democratic country seems to have the concept of the separation of Church and State. But it seems that this is being slowly and subtly eroded in Western and pseudo-Western societies.

First there was the cherry-picking of scripture to support the slave trade – and God Bless William Wilberforce for having the audacity to stand against the diabolical practice in what was then the mightiest super-power of it’s day. Then there was segregation, deeming the amount of melanin in a person’s skin or the straightness of their hair as a reason to ban them from certain areas and deny them civil liberties including education and the right to marry the person of their choice. Martin Luther King in the USA and Nelson Mandela in South Africa were incredible activists to right this wrong, but it’s a work in progress in both countries. There is still institutionalised racism active in most Western nations. Some have laws to prevent it. Others have laws to instill it.

I struggle with “issues” being made a headline story in the news. Recently it’s same-sex marriage. In the 1970’s it was socialism vs capitalism – something the UK is in danger of revisiting over the course of the next few years. In the 60’s it was Christianity being taught in American schools funded by federal government. I’m told Lincoln said the philosophy in the classroom of one generation will be the philosophy of Government in the next. I look at the various “democracies” in the world where no religious teaching is permitted and there is a distinct decline in the morality of those countries. Talking in class and chewing gum has been replaced with metal detectors to spot concealed guns and knives in schools as a problem. An entire generation in Africa will be lost to HIV and instead of turning to teaching morality and the sanctity of marriage the message is “use a condom”. It’s russian roulette not only with HIV but in terms of unplanned and unwanted pregnancies to those least equipped to cope with a child because they are children themselves.

And yet the Governments insist on separation of Church and State. Where are the Christian activists like Desmond Tutu and Martin Luther King of Generation X and Y? Where is the moral outrage at unjust wars and ever increasing denial and flat out lies by elected leaders in what is supposed to be the “free” world?

I heard an argument recently that we should obey the laws of the government at all times because of Romans 13:1-7:

“Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God [granted by His permission and sanction], and those which exist have been put in place by God. Therefore whoever resists [governmental] authority resists the ordinance of God. And those who have resisted it will bring judgment (civil penalty) on themselves. For [civil] authorities are not a source of fear for [people of] good behavior, but for [those who do] evil. Do you want to be unafraid of authority? Do what is good and you will receive approval and commendation. For he is God’s servant to you for good. But if you do wrong, [you should] be afraid; for he does not carry the [executioner’s] sword for nothing. He is God’s servant, an avenger who brings punishment on the wrongdoer. Therefore one must be subject [to civil authorities], not only to escape the punishment [that comes with wrongdoing], but also as a matter of principle [knowing what is right before God]. For this same reason you pay taxes, for civil authorities are God’s servants, devoting themselves to governance. Pay to all what is due: tax to whom tax is due, customs to whom customs, respect to whom respect, honor to whom honor.”

But this instruction is then offset by what Paul writes immediately afterwards vv8-14:

“Owe nothing to anyone except to love and seek the best for one another; for he who [unselfishly] loves his neighbor has fulfilled the [essence of the] law [relating to one’s fellowman]. The commandments, “You shall not commit adultery, you shall not murder, you shall not steal, you shall not covet” and any other commandment are summed up in this statement: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” Love does no wrong to a neighbor [it never hurts anyone]. Therefore [unselfish] love is the fulfillment of the Law.

Do this, knowing that this is a critical time. It is already the hour for you to awaken from your sleep [of spiritual complacency]; for our salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed [in Christ].

The night [this present evil age] is almost gone and the day [of Christ’s return] is almost here. So let us fling away the works of darkness and put on the [full] armor of light. Let us conduct ourselves properly and honorably as in the [light of] day, not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual promiscuity and irresponsibility, not in quarreling and jealousy. But clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for [nor even think about gratifying] the flesh in regard to its improper desires.”

The two passages in the same chapter at a glance seem to contradict each other. In the first, and extremist view is to obey all laws no matter what, but as the Amplified translation above points out, we are to obey civil laws or suffer the civil punishment. Blind obedience to the first part of the chapter leads to events like the holocaust.

The higher law, God’s Law, is exalted in part 2 of the chapter. Unselfishly loving one’s neighbour as we love ourselves fulfills God’s Law. It requires us to seek to live as Christ lived. He allowed Himself to be subject to Roman law, resulting in His crucifixion and our Salvation. He didn’t blindly follow the laws man had written. If He had we would be doomed.

We live in a world obsessed with sex and promiscuity. In a local store I counted the magazines on sale. Of 50 titles on sale only 3 did not have what the World says is the “ideal” image of a woman on the cover. And the other three had pictures of the “ideal” physique of a man. I can’t switch on my computer without being bombarded with adverts for dating sites and singles or swingers clubs, and it seems the more I try to remove myself from these mailing lists the more other sites begin to send their filth to me.

Sexual promiscuity and irresponsibility are seen as normal behaviour in modern society. I read statistics that a majority of teens from the ages of 13 to 19 surveyed in schools across America saw nothing wrong with oral or anal penetration – it’s not considered to be “sex” in their culture. I find that truly terrifying. Even more terrifying was that so many who shared this view also consider themselves to be Christians.

What is happening to us? Where is our outrage of Godly Anger at the perversion of our children and our society?

Maybe I’m just getting old. A friend of mine in her 20’s confided in me that her mum is just too old to understand her. She said it was refreshing to have an older friend who she could talk to. Her mum is the same age as me within a matter of days. It scared me, and I don’t scare easily. What truly scared me was not that her mum and I are the same age – although that did alarm me a bit – but that her mum sees nothing wrong with the general lifestyle of the younger generation.

It’s not politically correct to tell people to compare the modern world with Sodom and Gomorrah. All they see when they do is that God hates sex. But the true moral in the destruction of the cities was not simply the sexual sin. That was a part of it, not the whole of it. A big part of Lot’s realisation of what was coming and Abraham’s pleading for the sparing of the cities was their realisation that sexual sin was accepted as normal and not considered to be sinful any more. God destroyed the cities in part for that reason. The Roman and Greek empires both normalised promiscuity. Both fell. Now we have Western civilisation slowly imploding under the same issue. Sometime it feels like it’s not so slow.

The real issue about the Ashley Madison scandal was that church leaders got caught. We are held to a higher standard than other people but forced to live in the same society exposed to the same filth. So many are conned by the enemy into believing they have to get down in the filth to bring people out, but the reality is that if we do, all that happens is we get covered in the same mess.

But still a corrupt and immoral government insists there is no place for religion – especially Christianity – in publicly funded schools. But then with the other hand this same government seeks to force these religious institutions – especially the Christian ones – to carry out civil laws they feel violate their religious principles. In South Africa some schools provide meals for the children. This is a good thing, but the food is all Halal in nature. An Orthodox Jew or an incredibly Orthodox Christian could not eat this food as it is sacrificed to a false god, Allah.

Don’t get me wrong. In certain circumstances, rape being paramount, I believe the harm to the woman carrying the foetus may be greater than her having the choice not to have her rapist’s baby, but to use abortion as a form of birth-control in general is offensive. Similarly I have no objection to a secular society legalising same gender marriage under civil laws, but don’t force anyone to violate their religious beliefs to conduct those ceremonies.

There does need to be separation of Church and State. The Church needs to be separate from the State to provide a moral compass as it has done for 2000 years.

It’s a pity the State doesn’t want to listen any more.

We are about to enter into a time when what just 20 years ago would have been unimaginable. A Bigoted, racist, self-important, sexist, misogynistic hypocrite is the front runner for the Republican Party Presidential Candidacy. He claims Christianity as his beliefs, but what he speaks is nothing but fear and hate, not compassion and love.

We are supposed to be a light to the World as Christians. I don’t know if Mr Trump has spiritual advisors or if he is just doing what so many dictators in the past have done and feeding off the emotions of the masses. The white majority in America – especially the ones classed as “unskilled” – see their jobs threatened not by the proposed employment policies of the candidates, but by the  skin colour or religion of the other applicants.

The answer is simple – a powerful voice rising up and declaring “I have a dream” all over again, except the formerly credible voices who could have stood up to the likes of Trump and his counterparts are being crucified – in some cases rightly so – for actions they themselves committed in the past that should have been dealt with then.

So it’s time, Church, for US to be that credible voice once again. Not the right-wing extremists or left-wing liberals, but the genuine Followers of Jesus to refuse to be bound by Man’s laws. Stephen was murdered for doing that. And the bloodshed of true Believers has continued when they – we – have challenged the status quo be it in Africa, Asia, Europe or any other continent.

We have a message that is insane to the World. A secular State cannot comprehend it, but for it to become a moral and compassionate state it needs men of conscience within the Church to rise up and do what needs to be done.

I am confident that there is a Wilberforce in this generation. A Wesley, a Dr King who will put their own sense of self preservation and reputation aside long enough to change the world.

And save the State.