Vlogging with God

So 8.30 this morning I am sitting in the hairdresser's when Mark suddenly stops cutting my hair. 'Is that your phone?' he asks.
'What? I don't know. I can't hear anything. I suppose it must be if you can hear it.'

(My excuses: it was 8.30 am; the radio was on; Mark was cutting my hair noisily . [?])

It was Husband who had dropped me off in town. 'Have you got my keys?'
'No. Possibly. I don't know.'
'Well look.'
I rummaged in my bag. 'No, I haven't.'
'Where are they then?'
'I don't know. You've just driven home; you must have them.'
'I didn't switch the engine off. Are you sure you didn't pick them up? Have you checked your pockets?' (I should explain that you don't have to put the key in to drive the car, just press a button to start.)
I checked my pockets. 'No, I don't have them.'
'Where are they then?'
'How should I know - oh wait, they fell under your seat on the way here.'
Moment's silence while he looks. 'Oh yes. How did you know that?'
'I must have seen them ...'

Anyway I was in the hairdresser's at that ungodly hour because it was the only time this week I could fit it in. But while I was there I had a brilliant idea. I know, I know, it's a talent I have. Don't you wish you had as many brilliant ideas as I do?

I was reading an article about Zoella who apparently is something like the second-most-viewed person on youtube. Or something like that. She's young, rich and making money having fun. And I thought: that's what I need to do! Become an overnight success vlogger. 

But I need an angle, a target audience, and who could that be? Christian women. At least those who would like a slightly offbeat irreverent granny dog-walker. Yes, I even thought of a name for my vlog: Granny and George get Jesus. Or for alliteration, Granny and George walk gyrate groove across Gower with God. 

I told Husband about my idea on the way home. He said, 'Why?'
'Because I want to be rich and famous.'
He looked at me doubtfully. 'Why do you keep trying to think of more things to do? You're busy enough already.'
'Because ... because I feel I have stuff to say. And I think I can make it entertaining and worthwhile as well.'

I don't know. I just feel I want to get it out there. I am a communicator of sorts. Not in everyday conversation where I stutter and can never think of anything to say - or say the wrong thing - but in the written or spoken as in recorded word.

People generally have been complimentary about the vaguely Christian articles I write for The Bay and in the past I've written, along with my daughter, for a Christian magazine. (We had a monthly column called The Generation Gap.)

And I'm fed up of being rejected for my novel-writing. 

So we're having a day out tomorrow and then we're away for the weekend (after the rugby final test of course) but after that, watch out, world!

Not rocket science

When it comes to Christianity there are all sorts of words and phrases that I should know the meaning of but very rarely do. Words like Calvinism, Reform church, liberal theology, not to mention conservative liberalism (if there is such a thing) and even until recently episcopalian. A bit like post-modernism the precise meaning escapes me. If I had to define my brand of Christianity I'd say I was an almost-certain-don't-knower.

There are some things which I believe and on which I won't compromise: the fact that, out of love, Jesus died for me and each and every one of us so we could be forgiven, the fact that he is alive now, and the instruction he left with us - to love God and each other as ourselves.

Other things I believe include the Virgin birth (that's almost on my non-compromise list as it's pretty crucial to the rest of the story) and that Jesus is the only way. I don't believe that every one is going to be saved just because God is this nice kind loving creator but I do believe we'll be surprised to see who's in heaven.

There are some other sometimes hot topics I occasionally waver and dither over. My head may say one thing but my heart - or soul - says something else. Then there are the loads of tricky or deep theological questions that I just don't have a clue about, hence my almost-certain-don't-knower classification.

But it seems to me that being loved and loving should cover all eventualities. Call me simple (okay, not that enthusiastically!) but it's not rocket science.

My Easter reflection

So it's Easter and one's mind naturally turns to bunnies and eggs ... oh no, wait, that's all those heathens out there. As a good Christian girl my mind should be focused solely on the death and resurrection of our Lord. (And the odd egg or two.)

Easter is the most important festival in the Christian year; it's the reason for our faith and no amount of chocolate can diminish that truth. On Easter Sunday we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus and the hope that gives us who follow him of life after death, going to heaven - whatever that may mean to you (my idea is pretty vague as you might expect) - and salvation. And therein lies my sermon for today.

Some very lovely and sincere Christians are wont to ask, 'Is your husband saved? Are your children saved?' I know what they mean and I appreciate their interest but the way it comes across  it seems to me that salvation is the be all and end all of our faith. (Yes, I know, strictly speaking, it probably is and I'm struggling to find the right way of saying this. I bet the Pope doesn't have these problems.)

I think my thoughts have been going around this subject since last Tuesday's bible study into Jesus as Lord. Someone - I can't remember who - said, 'If I confess that Jesus is Lord then I am saved.' And, yes, that's true. The last thing we want to do  for people - people who are in desperate need or difficult circumstances, with erratic lifestyles and problems - is to make turning to God seem hard: it's not. Like the father in the prodigal son story God is running out to meet us, arms open wide, and he throws a party for us. He wants us to turn to him. God doesn't want anyone to be lost. (But I don't think that means that we all will be saved; we still have free will and have to make a choice.)

But if salvation, life after death, is all that we get out of this then we're missing out. I haven't said eternal life when referring to after death because I believe that my eternal life has already begun and the phrase that I love, that keeps coming back to me, is that Jesus came to bring us life and life to the full. That means right now not at some later unspecified date when we die. (Hopefully much later in my case.)

So yes, if we're to have life to the full it means taking some responsibility too. It means trying to make the right choices - not always easy and I certainly make far too many wrong ones - and giving God a say in our lives. From the ten commandments onwards through the words of Christ, the 'rules' are there for our benefit. If we break them, if we sin, then someone, either us or someone else, usually gets hurt. I suppose one of my particular sins, or at least one I'm willing to tell you about, is gossiping or bad-mouthing others. It does me no good, although I might enjoy it at the time, and if my words were to get back to the persons concerned then it would certainly do them no good. 

So I suppose what I'm trying to say is that Jesus' life, the example he gave us, the lessons he taught, the love and compassion he showed the outcasts and most vulnerable in society, is of huge value. As we remember his death and resurrection let's not forget the bit before.

Now, where did I put that egg?

Love wins

In 2011 a preacher called Rob Bell created a stir in the Christian world with his book Love Wins. He was accused of all kinds of heresy. For various reasons I avoided reading the book but I was given a copy a few months ago and finally, yesterday, I speed read it.

Now maybe in my speed reading I missed something vital but it doesn't seem particularly heretic to me. In fact what he says is what I've believed for years, namely that at some point in their dying people who've spent a lifetime denying God's existence or follow another religion are given another chance by God. (I think that's the crux of what he says and what the fuss is about.) It seems to me to be borne out by Christ's words to the thief on the cross and the parable he told about the workers who didn't start working until late afternoon yet got the same pay as those who began early morning. It still involves having free will and making a choice. From my understanding Rob Bell wasn't saying you go to heaven because you lived a good life nor was he saying that everyone goes to heaven.

I think I held out against reading it because it was 'the' book to read, and he is the 'in' preacher in some circles. And I'd assumed that he must be making light of the role Jesus played and that I wouldn't agree with him. But then it was recommended by someone I know doesn't follow fashion but is prepared to get his hands dirty for Jesus for people. 

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the book keeps the focus very much on Jesus and working towards bringing God's kingdom to earth now, that faith in God isn't only - or even particularly - about what happens to you when you die, but about the here and now, and about the difference knowing you have someone who loves you unconditionally, who would give everything for you, can make to damaged lives. I'd rather people, especially those I love, discover that earlier than later but better late than never.

Rob Bell's style of writing irritated me on occasion but if you get past that, as I say, I didn't find it shocking. I can't see what the fuss is about. So either I'm a heretic too or I missed something. 

A very Big Issue

This is an abridged extract from an article in the Big Issue (March 31 2008), written by a vendor.

'I had entered one of my bleakest periods ever. A street worker suggested counselling and handed me a leaflet. 'In crisis, in despair? Call Crossways.''

After the man had arranged an appointment he discovered that it was a religious organisation. This didn't worry him; he was just desperate for some help.

'I was ushered into a classroom-sized room where in the corner, by the window, were two chairs facing each other.'

A woman was sitting in one. She invited him to sit in the other and then sat smiling at him for a minute before asking what his problem was.

'When I'd finished, she gave me a treacly smile and said, "Trust me, the only solution to your problem is to accept God into your life." ... she entered what I can only describe as a sermonic trance. She just prayer and prayed, and then prayed.' I'm sure for her, flinging myself off the nearest bridge was not the problem. The problem was that I met Jesus before I jumped.'

He left the room while the woman, oblivious, continued to pray.

How angry does this make me? Very. Angry and sad.

When Jesus met people in need the first thing he did was meet the need, by feeding or healing or whatever was necessary. He demonstrated God's love in the most practical way - before anything else.

I'm writing to the Big Issue. I want to say sorry to the vendor; I want to invite him to Zac's; I want him to experience a better side of church and Christianity. But it's probably too late.

'What sort of Christian are you?'

At Zac's last night, before we tucked into lovely soup and dodgy bread, Sean read a bit from the Bible about Nicodemus, and he said how much he disliked using the phrase 'born again'. It only occurs once in the Bible and that's in John 3:3, where Jesus tells Nicodemus, a wise old teacher, that no-one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again.

A few months ago, Chris, one of our church leaders, caused a furore in a meeting when he said something very similar to Sean, along the lines of 'I can't be doing with this born again malarkey.'

What they both meant was not that they disagreed with Jesus but that the term has become so associated with negative things about Christianity that they wanted to be disassociated from it. When people say, 'are you a born again christian?' you can almost hear them thinking, 'Oh, no, not one of those.' In many people's eyes the term has come to be associated with the happy clappy, greedy, hypocritical, televangelist type of person - usually, I'm afraid, American. And what some of these preachers say is enough to make Jesus get down from the cross.

I've read a few blog posts of late that are critical or unbelieving of Christianity. I would suggest that most bloggers' views of Christianity are based on their experience or what they perceive it to be through what they see. I would also suggest that that perception is an infinity away from what God intended.

God is passionate. About his creation, about his created beings. Evil rouses him to fury; suffering makes him weep. He isn't wishy washy; he isn't apathetic. He is strong; he's gentle; he is all-knowing; he waits to be told; he listens; he hears; and most of all he loves humanity to a depth and a height and a width that we can't understand.

God didn't send his son into this world to condemn it - or us.

Now I've forgotten where I started, how I got here and what I wanted to say. You see, this is why I don't try and write clever posts. So I'll conclude with Sean's answer to the title question. 'I'm one who tries to follow Jesus.'

Sometimes with secret pride I sigh

To think how tolerant I am;
Then wonder which is really mine:
Tolerance or a rubber spine?
Ogden Nash, 'Yes and No', 1938

There's a magazine that gets delivered to the church, monthly, maybe (or possibly quarterly). I flick through it. It's not usually engrossing but there's an article in the current edition about intolerance. It quotes from two books by AC Grayling. In Against All Gods, he writes, "It is time to demand of believers that they take their personal choices and preferences in these non-rational and too often dangerous matters into the private sphere, like their sexual proclivities."


But in The Meaning of Things, he argues, "An intolerant person ... wishes others to live as he thinks they ought and ... seeks to impose his practices and beliefs upon them."


Hmm.


I am as intolerant of intolerance as the next person. Someone who tries to dictate to me how I should live or what I should or should not do will not retain my attention nor deserve my love.


But I don't believe that is what Christianity is; it's certainly not what God is about. His 'rules' are for our good; his compassion is abundant; his forgiveness is quick.

When he says 'don't' - kill, covet, commit adultery etc - it's because people will end up getting up hurt. And above that, he says, 'Love.'

Grayling also writes, "It is time to demand ... a right to be free of proselytisation and the efforts of self-selected minority groups to impose their own choice of morality and practice on those who do not share their outlook."

I hope I don't proselytise (I just had to look that up in the dictionary and now I'm fairly sure I don't!) or try to impose my beliefs on anyone. As I've said before, we each have a choice; I can only write as it is for me.

There's a huge difference between those whose lives gently demonstrate God's love (Sean from Zac's springs to mind) and those who claim to be mouthpieces for God (fill in the name here).

To think on: the article said, "The mere fact that people distinguish between right and wrong is enough to convict them of intolerance." (Where I have written people, the article said Christians, but I think it applies to anyone.)

And now I have written far too many serious or gloomy posts of late; it's time to lighten up. I'll be back when I've planned my cocktail party ...
xx

In which I meet the devil

As I intimated in a previous post, I am a simple soul, and my faith is a simple one. Not for me the intellectual arguments and discussions that take place on other blogs and in other places. I am not worried about the contradictions of scripture; I am happy to not understand everything. That doesn't mean I am happy about everything or that I don't have doubts: I'm not and I do. But they don't cause my faith to stumble. Or at least they haven't yet.

I was christened as a baby. When I was about 10 or 11, my mum sent me to confirmation classes and I was confirmed as a member of the Church in Wales. I was brought up in that sort of background - not that my family was particularly religious: they were anything but! My mother went to church sometimes and it was my habit too. When my mum died, I turned to the church. I also tried yoga. I was looking for something.

Life went on, I got married and we moved to Southampton. I met and began to meet up with a group of Christian women. They had something i didn't have and I wanted it. I 'said the prayer', the 'I'm sorry and I want you in my life, God' prayer, and I 'became' a Christian.

Life didn't change dramatically: I don't think it does for most people. Paul (the apostle formerly known as Saul) had an unusual and dramatic conversion on the road to Damascus; other people talk of encountering God in a powerful way. That didn't happen for me.

What did happen, a few weeks after my 'conversion', was that I was assailed by doubt. Not just a little bit of doubt but a massive, throwing-it-all-at-me doubt. How could there possibly be a God? How could there be anyone big enough to be outside the universe, beyond infinity and eternity? And how or why would such a being care for me, know me by name even knowing the number of hairs on my head? It was just complete and utter nonsense that I was being taken in by. Everything that I'd always believed in one sense or another was total rubbish and utterly impossible. It wasn't God I was encountering but the devil.

These thoughts battled in my head, disturbing my nights and draining my days. I couldn't resolve it. My head felt it would burst. I remember throwing myself on the bed, crying out.

At the time I was attending on an occasional basis a church that was shared by Anglicans, Baptists and - I don't recall the other denomination - but they all took it in turns to lead the Sunday service and as far as I know everyone attended whatever denomination they were and whoever was running the service. (An example that hasn't been taken up even these years later.) Anyway, this particular Sunday the Baptist minister was preaching. He was an ex-policeman who was training and he was very down-to-earth. I spoke to him after the service and told him of my battle. He said simply, 'When I am overwhelmed by the enormity of it, I bring God down to size: I think of Jesus, the man, on the cross.'

Suddenly it all seemed simple.

If I believed that story then everything else - the minutiae - was unimportant. I could choose to believe or choose to disbelieve. I chose to believe.

That's why the contradictions don't bother me, why the errors, the factual inaccuracies, don't make an atheist of me. I have made my choice.

No-one forces us. It's simply a choice we're all offered.

The fact - as I see it - that it is accompanied with the offer of unconditional love is a bonus.

When Husband had cancer, he had to spend a week at a time in hospital having chemotherapy. One night, while Husband was away having his treatment, God held me in his hand. I couldn't have felt safer or more loved and secure if he had materialised before me.

I am a crappy Christian. I sin in thought, word and deed in spite of my best intentions. And very often my intentions aren't even good let alone best. I really hope people don't judge God by what they see in me. I am very aware of my faults, as is God. Yet if I say sorry, we can start again.

Those instances of meeting God or facing the devil so intensely haven't happened since. Sometimes I feel a very long way from God; other times I look at the sky - for it's easier to imagine Him up there somewhere - and smile and whisper, 'I love you.'

xx