Love wins

As I was reflecting and reacting to the tragic news of what's happened in Paris and thinking of the people who suffered from the loss of those who have died, I was left feeling sad and somewhat perplexed. These were just everyday people enjoying a beautiful evening in a beautiful city – yet they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In the aftermath, many people took to social media to express dissatisfaction on why certain other tragedies around the world had not received as much coverage as Paris. The media were criticised for being biased in their selection of news stories. “Why is the media not covering this?” was the expression of several updates on my Facebook feed. Facebook enabled people to change their profile photo to the French flag to reflect their sympathy for France. Though, many questioned whether people would have changed their photos to the Lebanese flag after the Beirut bombings the day before. Others questioned why we mourn someone else’s tragedy on social media in such great detail; a tragedy that we have no direct involvement in, and whether this was empathy or narcissism.

Personally, I did not change my photo, because I felt that it would cheapen or minimise the horrific reality of what is going on all around the world all the time. My heart is with the world- not just the ones who live near me. I have certainly been guilty of retreating to the safe ground of superiority, building a wall around myself, a wall of protection from engaging with what is on the 'outside', stayed in a mansion filled with others who think and talk the same way as I do. But I am on a journey of learning how to love well, to be a relational woman who is able to understand and love people, and be honest about life. The radical nature of Jesus’s teaching is that we are valued because we are children of God, whether female or male, slave or free, educated or not. We are never just economic units integrated into God’s business, but children adopted into his family, with a mandate to love and to serve. Not win.

Winning is an outcome. When we become obsessed with outcomes, we can lose sight of the journey; lose sight of who we are, how we got there, and lose appreciation for the value of the people who do not "win". It feels like the world seems obsessed with winning at everything. This translates from wars to the athletic arena to the top of the corporate ladder.

Many things about Jesus flies right in the face of what our culture says is important about winning. Sometimes Jesus’ words just jolt me awake because they are so offensive to the culture in which I live. In Luke 9:23, Jesus makes an extremely counter-cultural statement, when He says to possible disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” In a world where everything revolves around self —protect yourself, promote yourself, comfort yourself, and take care of yourself - Jesus says crucify yourself; put aside all self-preservation in order to live for God’s glorification, no matter what that means for you in the culture around you. From the very beginning, then, this kind of life involves going against the grain of the culture around us - and for that matter- within us.

For generations, followers of God have been told to love one another. They were even commanded to love strangers, foreigners and travellers. 

Jesus wanted followers that understood that love wasn’t always easy. It is actually really hard sometimes, and it may not always be safe. But it is always good. 

I understand why what has happened in Paris has received a different reaction to what happened the day before in Beirut for example. Something happening on the same continent is going to receive a different reaction, because it hits close to home. That is just how it is, and I totally understand that. But as Christians we are called beyond just caring about our immediate neighbours.

Sometimes I feel certain issues are “too difficult to think about”or I question what I could possibly have to say. But this is not the point; sometimes the most authentic response is just to open ourselves up to the suffering of other people, whether we have the answers or not because prayer is not always about solving problems. As Max Lucado writes, we live in a broken world in desperate need of a generation of people who will respond in faith to the fear of the current times. Every such battle ultimately is a spiritual battle, and a contest with the enemy and his forces, which we must acknowledge.

Yet the good news is that hatred may win some battles....but love always wins in the end.

Onto water.

I am sitting on my bed, looking out at the night sky, as I write.  

Lately lots of things seem to be falling into place, which I am thankful to God for. Yet amidst all the external stuff, I sense a quiet voice inside me beckoning me to deeper levels and higher heights. It feels like divine discontent. It's great to be at rest and content in whatever season we are in, but I also think we are born with innate desire to be fruitful and to live purpose filled lives. This inevitably involves a level of risk and fearlessness. This year I have met some wonderful people who have opened my eyes to new things – new ways of doing life and thinking about life. One of my colleagues is a former professional basketball player. Recently he was telling me about how he used to prepare himself for a game. He would spend hours watching games with his opponent, study their moves, and enact various strategies in his mind. Basically he had already played out the game in his mind before he ever set foot on the basketball court. It got me thinking about the art of preparation. It’s a paradox because I usually overdo it when preparing myself for certain things, and sometimes I don’t prepare myself enough. I haphazardly do it first and check later to see if I did it right, or if it came out well. I sometimes get in my own way, when it really matters, because maybe I want to remain in my comfort zone. It has taken me a while to accept that that I do not need any elaborate credentials to be used by God in the area of my gifting. All I have to do is have a heart for Him … and a willingness to get out of the boat.

I have in the past like Esther been situated in a place I did not want to be in. I like to think that God placed me there for a purpose. Esther was terrified at the thought of living in a Harem, but God was not worried. I can almost hear God saying “you got this, girrl”. God knew that she had the right heart and attitide to undergo this difficult process, although she doubted herself. No matter how insignificant we may feel, God never makes mistakes. The harem was Esther’s doorway to the throne. Without the training and preparation she received there, she would have never become a queen. Similarly, I have often found that the most difficult seasons of my life have proven to be doorways into times of incredible purpose. 

I am constantly looking for something new to achieve. I want to be a part of something bigger. I have found no reason to disconnect my intellect in order to believe what the bible teaches, but have instead found that the more science I embrace, the more I understand the claims of my faith.

I doubt. I listen. I walk away. I come back. I marvel. I sing. I receive answers to prayers. I am met with silence. Living out my faith day by day is an adventure that can feel random. I interact with people for moments at a time and attempt to say something, that may be encouraging; I have conversations with children at work, and perhaps I share just a bit of my faith with that taxi driver. One thing I know for certain. It is not possible to remain in the maze of mediocrity and simultaneously live for something bigger than myself. Discovering and living my purpose is an adventure that involves risk. Like Esther, responding to God’s call to fulfil my purpose in life requires me to journey beyond the boundaries of my comfort zone. Jesus never seemed to hesitate in telling people to leave their familiar lives for the unfamiliar path of following him.

A Christian reflection on Darwin

"In the beginning was an explosion in the cosmos, followed by evolution and natural selection, followed by the survival and extinction of certain races”

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made”

I was an atheist for about five minutes when I was younger. I then realised that I believed in the non existence of God because some really "cool" people around me held these beliefs, not because I had ever truly thought through whether this way of looking at things made any sense or whether another viewpoint might be more logical and explain more of the world or my experiences. Among other things, it left out experiences that I knew to be real; ignored the power of spirituality; and failed to explain the limits of what my human mind was capable of grasping.

Years later, after becoming a Christian, I held an interesting conversation with a Russian atheist colleague on the subject of science and religion. We got along well as colleagues, don’t get me wrong, but when I told her I was a Christian, she looked at me as if I believed that it is the stork that brings babies. I asked her how it is possible for dead matter to suddenly become dynamic organisms. “It’s not possible”, she replied “but no new evidence suggests otherwise so that’s what we believe” “The existence of God cannot be proven either”, she added, and so the conversation kept going around in circles.

I was talking ‘religion’, and she was talking ‘science’.

Any questioning was seen as negative argument and would not be accepted by her unless new evidence proved otherwise. It was like a criminal defendant not allowed to present an alibi unless he or she could also prove who committed the crime.

Darwinist literature is full of anti-theistic ideas such as that the universe has no intelligent creator and that human beings are the product of a blind natural process. Richard Dawkins, an Oxford Zoologist, is very explicit about the religious side of Darwinism. His 1986 book “The blind Watchmaker” is at one level about biology, but at a more fundamental level it is an argument for atheism. In it he writes “Darwin made it intellectually possible to be a fulfilled atheist (...) it is absolutely safe to say that if you meet somebody who claims not to believe in evolution, that person is ignorant, stupid or insane”.

Charles Darwin published his first major literary work in 1859 called “On the origin of species by means of natural selection or the preservation of favoured races in the struggle of life”. Now more than 150 years later its contents are being taught in schools and is still widely controversial. Darwin was also described as “the man who killed God”. His theory suggests that all living species are the result of an explosion in the cosmos, followed by evolution and natural selection, which in turn determined the survival and extinction of certain races. For example, if a small population of birds happen to migrate to an island the inbreeding might cause this population to develop different characteristics than those left behind on the mainland.

Do we really know for certain that there exists some natural process by which human beings and all other beings could have evolved from microbial ancestors or from non living matter? Science seems to be understood in two ways. As a discipline based on observable data, and as a naturalistic philosophy that attempts to explain the reason for our existence.

I think the problem lies in this polarised perception. The idea of an intelligent creator suggests supernatural and religious subject matter, typically the point at which Darwinists lose interest. Christianity is perceived as sentimental because no one can see and measure God, and if it cannot be measured then it doesn’t exist. Yet, our conscience exists even though we cannot see it. The scientist Gould argued “Darwin himself exclaimed that science could not touch the problem of evil and similar conundrums. He himself stated, a dog might as well speculate on the mind of Newton. Let each man hope and believe what he can”.

Why does it matter? It matters because our beliefs determine our outlook toward our world, ourselves, other people and God. I am writing as one participating in the debate, sorting out of bits of knowledge, ideas, and while I am quite certain of what I believe in, I am also open to learning from others of varying beliefs. I believe that the complexity of our planet points to an intelligent designer who not only created our universe, but sustains it right now. I'm no scientist, but I think it takes a lot of faith to believe that 'something' can come from 'nothing'. The universe has not always existed. It had a beginning...and something must have caused that beginning. Think about it.

Jars of clay

I woke up this morning to the sound of waves crashing against the shore, and the smell of mum's freshly brewed coffee. Its’ gone be a good day. It’s on days like today that I like to write. There is no need to wolf down my breakfast or rush to catch a train. But today, as I begin typing, I realise it’s been the longest time since I’ve written anything other than academic papers.

I have been on placement in a mental health organisation since November, which has been a steep learning curve for me as I’ve little experience from the mental health sector. Nevertheless, empowering others is an amazing feeling, especially when done genuinely. Skills are important, but, sometimes, I wonder if I am relying on God less and less in the areas where I think my own capabilities suffice. I sense that, sometimes, I am trying to fit God into a box of my own making, telling Him what needs to be done to make me happy. It’s in this place that Paul’s words ‘we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us’ really come to life for me. I am an empty jar. He is my treasure. And as for those flaws and cracks in my clay pot, they are not to be frowned upon, because they are there for a reason. The cracks allow the light of God to stream through.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Grace is one of those wonderful things I don’t have to earn. I know many Christians who embody ‘grace’ yet somehow throughout history the church has managed to gain a reputation for it’s lack of grace. Sometimes Christians are so at ease with the language of religion, moral values, church talk, that they sometimes, inadvertently, claim to own God. As if Christianity can be narrowed down to two or three issues; as if the Holy Spirit can be bought and sold. I will not explore or debate the historical examples here, but my point is that Christianity isn’t as simple as ‘text book’ answers. What does it mean to be a Christian today? Is it about going to church and being a “good” person i.e. someone who loves the right kind of things in the right kind of way with the right kind of love? Or about something else entirely?

A friend of mine passed away this year. There were no farewells or chances to express how big a difference her life made to mine. I went to Copenhagen to spend some time with her family who were grieving the loss of a sister, daughter, mother, friend. I didn't know what to say; just joined in with the family in the hope that, at some small level, my presence was a support to them, and helped them to know that I, too, would miss her an awful lot. All of our experiences with her can be remembered, celebrated or regretted, but they can never be retrieved. Life is one of those things in which you can only move forward, but the good news is that you can take the love with you. I can honestly say, that it was God who helped me in coming to terms with her death. You know those moments when a beam of light reflects through the clouds and you go ‘wow’? I know without a shadow of doubt that every ounce of healing I have ever received has been from the boundless healing fountain of God. The God that keeps on giving and doesn’t withdraw, even though I have turned my back on Him a thousand times.

It’s not about going to church or being morally superior. Neither is it necessarily about striving to have more; because when God establishes His upside-down Kingdom ... less is more. Christianity is about relationship, intimacy and newness of life (Romans 6:8).

At the same time, I am also aware that I need to examine myself daily for pride and a self centeredness that often motivate my thoughts and actions, but even then ‘His eye is on the sparrow’. As John Ortberg highlights, trying and failing, learning from failure, and trying again works so much better than waiting for perfection. And, for me, this process is fuelled by the knowledge that the grace of God sustains me throughout.

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:38-39).

It’s one of my favourite scriptures because it speaks of a God who wants to restore us to intimacy. Philip Yancey tells a story about the shocking accessibility that the word ‘Abba’ contains. One time during JFK’s presidency, cabinet members were debating world politics seated around the president’s desk when, suddenly, a toddler, little 2 year old John-John crawls on top of the presidential desk completely oblivious to protocol. No one could barge into the Oval Office to see the president without an appointment, but John-John was simply visiting his ‘daddy’ much to his father’s delight. Restoring intimacy.

So being ‘authentic’ is good. Not having to always say the ‘right’ thing is great. We are all cracked jars of clay. Don’t try to fix them, just allow God to use them. Releasing hurt is healing. Forgiving others is liberating. If you find yourself in a situation where you’re holding on to pain or hurt, consider letting go, or forgiving if that’s what your situation calls for. “When we genuinely forgive” Lewis Smedes says “we set a prisoner free and then discover that the prisoner we set free was us”.

Throughout, the grace of God sustains...

I leave with you one of my favourite songs (just because!)

You Are For Me

Redefining Value

"If we did all the things we are capable of, we would astound ourselves" Thomas Edison

In school, after being taught the history of the Vikings, and how they settled across Asia and America, we were taught about the wonders of self help mantras. A sandal wearing curly-haired guest teacher came along and encouraged us to always think positively, because apparently positive thoughts would give us the power to attract financial wealth.

On the cusp of graduation, we were pondering future career paths and, being impressionable, it seemed like we held the keys to success with new age lady lending us her pearls of wisdom. Being hormonal teenagers we knew we couldn’t remain permanently blissful as if having undergone extreme face lifts, but gave it a whirl anyway. We imagined the massive graduation parties we could throw and the great food we could treat our guests to. In this spirit we began uttering self help mantras whilst looking in the mirror.

I am strong. I am powerful.

Our dreams imploded in a puddle of recrimination and sulking as we digested the harsh reality that this supposed money spinner wasn’t going to turn us into millionaires. We became angry teenagers grade one, when normally we were only a grade three.

Why? Because when you’re loooking for purpose, and someone promises to give you that but doesn’t deliver, it’s just. not. cool. The self-help industry is a billion dollar enterprise that claims to sell hope, as though some divine blessing comes included. But it’s not hope it’s selling, it’s despair. This is why I can understand when young people get angry today. We all know that crime doesn't pay, but young people are not born angry. They don’t just spontaneously combust on a lazy afternoon. Their views and beliefs develop as they grow up. Many have been at the receiving end of unfulfilled promises for quite some time, feeling unheard and misunderstood. Young people love to discuss their hopes and dreams with each other – most parents and teachers encourage them to reach their full potential. However something happens somewhere along the line, and they stop believing big. The only way they know to cover up their hurts is to stop caring, and eventually they can’t stand the agony of trying to connect again so they shut down.
In the wake of the recent riots, theories of roots and causes abounded. The thing is that riots tend to tell us something important about society and what is going on. The train of thought I found most interesting focused on reasons why we tend to define ‘value’ in terms of economic contribution and status, when human beings have value that doesn't depend on external factors. We have turned the word on its head; calibrated it from every angle; wrestled with it until daybreak yet if we look the word up in a dictionary - definitions tend to be centered around monetary value. And when human value is mentioned, an uncomfortable silence ensues, like just before women reject compliments from men they dont' know because they're concerned about their motives.

There is a sense of injustice among many young people that they cannot trust the ‘suits’ as they read the headlines about banks paying ridiculous bonuses, MPs claiming on houses that do not exist and police being paid by newspapers. Surely these are just glorified forms of ‘looting’ and they see themselves as following suit. It's not about the riots, rather, it's about the symptoms of a widespread sickness in our society. It should unsettle us, where we are part of fuelling a tendency that disenfranchises people who have very little to lose. Because everyone loses out in the end. Because what is natural is God-given and beautiful; what is cultural is learned and sometimes needs to be unlearned. King David was chosen as King over all his brothers because he was a man after God's own heart, not because he was the strongest or the smartest.

“But God told Samuel, "Looks aren't everything. Don't be impressed with his looks and stature. I've already eliminated him. God judges persons differently than humans do. Men and women look at the face; God looks into the heart." (The Message - 1 Samuel 16:7)

I am created by the God who has created all things and given everything its form and its purpose. So are you. Let that truth settle in your heart.

The urban beatitudes

Blessed are not just the winners that society thinks are deserving

Blessed are not just the supermodels and the super-rich

Blessed are not just the conglomerate businesses, or those dripping with diamonds

Blessed are not just the nuclear families with 2,5 children

Blessed are -also- the penny scrapers, the city dwellers and the hustlers

Blessed are the prostitutes, the shameful, the forlorn and the addicted

Blessed are those who never dealt in social power, the marginalised and those who never felt they belonged in high school

Blessed are the brave, the wall flowers, the single and the married

Blessed are the pillars, the black sheep, the parents who can’t afford a nervous breakdown

Blessed are those who fail but keep trying

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness...

For they shall be filled.

Acts of kindness

Apparently this is the coldest December in the UK since records began, and along with many other people I was bedridden with a really nasty virus! I had to think of ways to entertain myself when I was unable to move around, such as counting the dots in the ceiling. This was a bit of a culture shock especially since life seems to happen in a blur of non stop busyness. One day merges into the next, there’s the hectic work culture, fast food, and coffee shops on every street corner with the promise to satisfy our much needed energy fix. Being sick in bed made me feel like I was missing out on all the action. It was kind of similar to watching Beckett’s play ‘Waiting For Godot’- it’s slow moving, doesn’t make sense or have any deeper meaning.

I think if I knew I could get away with running around like a headless chicken I probably would, only to discover when was too late that there’s a price to pay in poor health. I heard on the news that work related stress costs the UK around 500 million pounds and 14 million working days every year. I know stress is bad, but I’ve always thought that some stress is necessary in order to get things done. For example, the other day I was late for an appointment. I was standing in a long queue at Tesco’s being served by a slow cashier, and the person in front of me couldn’t find the correct change. The last thing I wanted to do was think about effective ways to manage my stress. Instead I looked around for a shorter queue, and thought that I should have looked for the more efficient-looking cashier. Preferably the one with a talent badge. But the moaning just made me feel worse, because I really had no right to moan about something so trivial.

I think trivial moaning is a demotivator. For example, when the Israelites were being led out of slavery and oppression, it took them some 40 years of wandering in the desert to make an 11 day journey because they couldn’t stop whining and complaining about being stuck in the desert. An abundant stress-free life doesn’t mean an absence of adversity, it’s more about how we grow in the midst of it. No longer do I want to learn the hard way through stress & illness. So when I have deadlines, I try make extra sure that I don't jump out of my bed in the morning without spending quality time with God first. I don’t go to bed so late that I’m on the train so exhausted I begin imagining things. I stop myself from getting annoyed when the person next to me has his iPod leaking the not so dulcit tones of 80's electronica.

Some perspective is needed:

“For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” Mark 8:36

Sometimes the little things help maintain perspective. Little random acts of kindness help give life to us and others, a smile on a long and tiresome train journey, a kind word in season, or help with a heavy suitcase.

Hope, courage and the stories we tell

When you think about it, everything we know comes in the form of a story with a beginning and end; from the stories told by our parents at bedtime, to the stories communicated to us by newsreaders everyday. Stories are like glue, they bring us together across class and culture and give coherence to our many, and sometimes confusing, experiences. When I go to the cinema or theatre I can know that, for a few hours a separate world exists where predictable patterns can be relied on. There is a way of knowing how things will work out in the end.

Perhaps that’s why stories hold such appeal? They can inform us about how the world works, and how we’re meant to feel about the world. They can give a sense of security because, paradoxically, they exist apart from us. And though we are welcomed in as observers, we are not responsible for the story’s ultimate outcome because the protagonist’s success or failure doesn’t rest on our shoulders.

I also think we’re drawn to stories because we spend a large part of our lives in uncertainty. We’ve been reminded, by birthdays, that moments race by like bullet trains, the years fly past, and we can’t control them at all. It seems like only yesterday I was in college about to turn 17. Soon I would be an independent woman, have a successful career, get married and have children. Then I’d comb my daughters hair thinking soon I wouldn’t be able to do this anymore knowing that the little ponytail would inevitably have to give way to hair straighteners and tousled locks. I tried to plan the outcome of my future so much so that there was no room for surprises. I think we all do at some point in our lives. Yet still there is no absolute guarantee that we can know how things turn out in the end. Institutions crumble, savings evaporate and careers come to an end.

That’s why I am encouraged when I hear people be honest about life, without glossing over the gloomier realities. I need to hear the good, the bad, and the ugly, because then I discover I am not alone. Most films have happy endings, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but when they say so little about the reality of life, they inadvertently suggest that things are better than they actually are. The optimism that isn’t necessarily rooted in reality, but in the wishful thinking of fantasy and make-believe, can be deceptively misleading.

Our highlights, struggles, prayers, silences, laughter, weeping and praising are part and parcel of walking a path that has quick turns and hidden corners. Life is unpredictable. It throws its curveballs and not every story has a typical happy ending. 

Real life stories are living, organic things like clouds forming or shifting tides. They do not always do the things we want them to, or have a beginning and an end.

I remember a conversation I had with a Rwandan man about the genocide in the 1990s. It was hard to know what to say to someone who had suffered such loss. His first instinct was that the perpetrators should suffer the same fate that they had inflicted on his family. He said that he thought forgiveness was a lovely idea until he was faced with forgiving the unforgivable. Yet still somehow in his extreme loss, and profound confusion as to why God had allowed such a thing to happen, he was able to forgive them. This didn’t mean that the pain didn’t turn up from time to time. It didn’t mean that he felt immune to someone sparking a bad memory. It meant that he had entered into the ongoing process that forgiveness sometimes is.

Stories like these carry something with them that enriches my own life experience. As a Christian, I draw hope from people like the Rwandan man, who have learned how God can meet them in the midst of their struggles, and bring hope is seemingly hopeless situations. And I am inspired by women, like the Big Sistahs, who have had the courage to use their difficult pasts to help others out of poverty. I can hardly compare myself to these people, but I see an authenticity in them that stirs me beyond powerful rhetoric.

Their hope and courage is a reminder that there’s a Grand Narrative that doesn’t rest on my shoulders, and which doesn’t begin and end with my ability to keep things together. Rather it invites me up into it to take part. It invites us all.

So...

I believe that everybody has a story to tell. A story that’s perhaps waiting in the back of your mind to see the light of day. You never know what could happen! True life stories have the power to inspire people around us. They can help children beyond the theory of what is taught in schools. If you haven’t yet figured out what your story is, I hope you will very soon.

The church on the frontline

I can’t imagine what it would be like to have my entire livelihood swept away in one fell swoop. I don’t even like changes to my routine and think life is great long as its trundles along unhindered. Then life throws an unexpected curveball and brings a different perspective on things. It’s wise to plan for the future, and it’s much easier to handle challenges when you’ve been taking care of business along the way, but sometimes events are just way beyond our control.

Imagine one minute driving home in your car, the next minute you are being carried away by flash floods. A few weeks ago Pakistan was affected by the worst floods in living memory, killing at least 1,400 people. It left hundreds of thousands injured and homeless; more than 20 million people were affected in different ways.

Natural disasters can be incredibly unpredictable. Changing rainfall patterns, floods, drought affect the poorest hardest because they are the least able to adapt to these climatic changes. For example in Pakistan, many of those affected by the floods were people dependent on agriculture and the destruction of their crops and livestock left them facing hunger and uncertainty. They now face the soul wrenching task of having to rebuild their lives from scratch.

I work for Christian relief agency Tearfund UK and I’m in daily communication with supporters on all aspects of Tearfund’s work. Our phone lines have been red hot for the past few weeks. What started out a gentle stream soon turned into a raging river. A lady couldn’t go on her holiday unless she’d done something to help the flood victims; an older gentleman donated despite barely even having enough money for himself; and a young man gave despite his recent redundancy. Hearing these stories was a humbling experience for someone like me. I flinch whenever I have to share my last piece of chewing gum and I seem forever preoccupied with work that needs to be done.

However, it’s not necessarily about striving to have more; because when God establishes His upside-down Kingdom....less is more.

And while these phone calls were happening, and while people across the globe turned on their TV’s and thought about whether or not respond, the church was already right there at the epicentre of the disaster distributing food, clothes, temporary shelter, carrying out door-to-door visits and identifying people in need. They reminded me of the early church, a community where members voluntarily shared their possessions with one another, even selling their personal property as required when funds were needed to help the poor. Things happened just because Jesus was among them. They didn’t have iPhones or flat screen TV’s, but simply lived with a love for Christ and each other and proclaimed the gospel with their lives not just with their mouths.

I simply love that about the church. In many parts of the world the church is the first place people run to in times of trouble because it’s at the heart of poor communities. It’s there for the long term with a promise of sustainable development and doesn’t haphazardly parachute down into theatres of poverty and suffering only to disappear the following week. This means that as the focal point of many communities, it has consistence and stability when other NGO’s fail or governmental structures prove unreliable. Crucially the local church is rooted in culture and local history, and therefore has the credibility, knowledge and expertise to maintain trustful relationships. People are empowered to shake off charity dependence, and to once again experience the dignity of earning their own livelihoods. Poor communities are equipped to identify root problems and build ownership of development initiatives to help them solve those problems themselves. Secular NGO’s might struggle to match this.

It got me thinking, what would happen if we, the church in the West, rolled up our sleeves, got our hands dirty, got to know people’s struggles and let our own struggles be known?

Through my work I have witnessed, over the years, how God has called seemingly ordinary people to extraordinary action. Time and time again I hear about life transforming ideas beginning with only a few inspired individuals. Their visions became tangible movements that spread across local and national boundaries like wildfire. And the successes of those visions have not solely depended on their gifts and training or even available resources, but on a connectedness to their community and a desire to use their God given passions to reach out to their neighbours.

A recurring pattern starts to emerge. It’s a question about relationship, not merely a question about money, power or social justice. It’s about knowing the names and faces of our neighbours and letting these relationships change us from the inside out because Jesus did not just leave changed individuals, He left supernatural community, a group of changed individuals together operating in the power of the Holy Spirit.

They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favour of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved. Acts 2:42–47 (NIV)

On beauty.

I remember feeling awkward about my hair as a teenager. It was neither straight nor quite curly - just somewhere in between. I begged my mum to cut my hair like Brenda’s from Beverly Hills 90210, but heartily regretted the decision afterwards. The fringe thing just wasn’t happening for me.

I’ll never forget the ear deafening silence when I entered my class room the next day with my umbrella shaped fringe. So quiet that tumbleweed aimlessly blew across the class room floor to the sound of a hollow wind. I tried to joke my way out of it, but was so utterly embarrassed I just about managed to drag myself to my desk.

I don’t know why this situation bothered my so much, but it did. It seemed to ring a bell of warning that I didn’t know how to respond to. Or just didn’t want to. Confronting questions around hair and identity just seemed like such an insurmountable task.

So the “beauty obsession train” just kept a ‘rollin. In college I’d never leave my house without make-up on. I watched beauty commercials in admiration as models meticulously applied their eye liner and foundation; bought a foundation at a local pharmacy which remotely suited my skin tone, then copied the process like it was a near extinct tribal ritual that would die out if I didn’t do it justice.

I wish there was a way of travelling back in time to tell that young girl how lovely she already was without the add-on’s. And her being me I could tell her with real conviction, hand on heart, that all those things she desired really wouldn’t make a difference in the long run. I’d tell her about the many experiences she’d have, the places she’d travel to, the interesting people she’d meet - and most importantly I’d tell her about the love of God. If I knew then what I know now, I would’ve saved a lifetime in front of the mirror, many hours of self depreciating agony, and many hours of trying to find my way back to sanity. I now look at old school pictures and have to ask “what in the world was I thinking?” And I am, too, surprised at how clearly I remember my friends’ minority complexes; nose too big, too tall, hair too thin or too thick, toes too crooked or a bit too long. Picking yourself apart like this is a special skill that only requires an open and willing mind; anyone can learn it whatever culture, class or race.

It’s sad that teenage girls, and many adult women, spend so much time being ridiculously obsessed about what they think are their physical flaws. And it doesn’t help that over time, cultural perceptions of beauty change, sometimes favouring voluptuous women and at other times very slim ones. We fight tooth and nail to fill our wardrobes with the “next best thing” and once we arrive at the ideal, the ideal changes and we find ourselves on an illusory journey chasing shadows. It’s like pursuing someone who’s playing hard to get; we think maybe they just need to be chased a little bit more before they give in to our irresistible charms. But it never happens. And we’re always left heartbroken.

I don’t know about you, but the change I want done is from the inside out. The most significant change I can experience takes place in my heart, and the overflow of this will be new thoughts, words and actions reflective of that change. Jesus beautifies us. Our focus should be to abide in Christ, and if we do, the Holy Spirit will produce the fruit, and this fruit will be the result of our intimate relationship with God.

It isn’t something we can conjure up on our own.

Thankfully.

I love John 15 verse 4 “Remain in me and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.

Authentic beauty cannot be found in fashionable trends or magazines and cannot be bought at a price. Someone once said “No one is saved by a gospel of self confidence” and it’s so true. Jesus reached down to us in our dirty rags and restored us unto Him when nothing in us was worthy.

More importantly, God created us wonderfully, fearfully, perfectly and no matter how we feel about ourselves, in spite of our perceived flaws, as a Father, He believes in us all the way.

It’s up to us if we believe what He says about us or not.

Homes & Tornadoes

I used to have a rabbit called Holger, who'd bite through our furniture and leave the Styrofoam spilling out of the couches and traces of sawdust in his trail. You could always tell where Holger had been, such was the magnitude of his culinary adventures.

The chaotic scene which ensued stood in grave contrast to our normally neat and tidy home. And because we lived on the 4th floor, we couldn’t let Holger out into the garden to blow off steam. We had to accept the whirlwind that he was - for better or worse.

Funnily enough, after a while I got used to the Styrofoam. I’m sure everyone has a list of home improvements they intend to get around to. At first they bother us immensely, but after a while we kind of get used to them. And because they often carry a story with them, we can even begin to treasure them. So this got me thinking that, while science can tell us how to build a house, it can’t tell us what makes a home. Without us it’s just a house. We tidy it, paint it, put coasters under cups, hang our family photos on the walls, and allow rabbits to gnaw through furniture. Home is the one place that we can shape exactly the way we want it.

Philosopher Alain De Botton says:

"People have strained their backs carving flowers into their roof beams and their eyesight embroidering animals onto their tablecloths. They have given up weekends to hide unsightly cables behind ledges. They have thought carefully about appropriate kitchen work surfaces. They have imagined living in unattainably expensive houses pictured in magazines and then felt sad, as one does on passing an attractive stranger in a crowded street"
A lady I once knew was always changing something about her house. Whenever I visited her she was holding a curtain rail or assembling a new piece of IKEA furniture. She should have been crowned the Danish version of Martha Stewart, but unfortunately became really ill and had to drop the interior decorating.

It’s a tricky path we’re on when our homes begin to define who we are. But when we repeat the much loved phrase home is where the heart is - we’re talking about a deep longing which I believe God has put inside each of us. Yesterday’s Location, Location reminded me of this. The usually calm Phil Spencer almost lost his rag at the husband’s indifference to the locations he’d offered blood, sweat and tears trying to find.

“You must have an opinion about where you live” Phil asked in disbelief.

Husband just shrugged

“As long as my wife’s happy – I’m happy”

Happy days.

Wouldn’t house hunting be so much easier if all husbands were this servant hearted? Small or non-existent garages would pose no problem as long as the wife was happy as clams - apparently open clams give the appearance of smiling. Even in the city of Murmansk, Russia, where men build their garages far away from where they live to escape their humdrum lives, husbands would forego their garage privileges and spend the money, instead, on outdoor patio extensions.

In real life, of course, relationships are about giving and receiving and choosing a home should be a joint decision. It's just that finding a home is easier when you know where your heart is. For the husband on Location, his home was wherever his wife was. No doubt, people add something vital to what it means for us to feel at home somewhere. It also strikes me that though God created the earth to be our home, and declared it good, it doesn't look the way it's meant to. Our home has been messed with – as if scoundrels have plundered it and laid it bare. We are reminded of this every time we witness the suffering that leaves children as orphans and people without a home. In DR Congo, four million lives are estimated to have been lost due to conflict induced poverty. Over 2 million people remain internally displaced living in camps, and there are more than 300,000 Congolese refugees in neighboring countries.

So after thinking about this giant mess we’ve made of our earthly abode, and the pictures that accompany these thoughts, something begins to stir in my heart. A hope for a better future; a better home for the next generation. Because real mission is not written as a list of rules on a papyrus scroll, but on the hearts and lives of ordinary people like you and me. And we’re not alone; hundred thousand tiny dots connected make a much bigger picture. It’s really important to recognise that the little bit each person gives is crucial to the bigger picture. What would happen if the church invested its resources in responding to pressing issues such as homlessness? Rob Bell says: "from my experience, if the church was fully engaged, there are a number of issues that would go away". I agree. I dream of a church where the sick are healed and oppressed are set free; where we are stimulated to new levels of endeavour; where we refuse to denigrate others because, they too, are created in God's image.

Finally, I stumbled across this…

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's mansion are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am” John 14:1-3

Mansion huh? That’s a pretty huge house in human standards, but when Jesus talks about mansions I think……gargantuan, massive, towering. It’s pretty awesome that Jesus is preparing a room for us in a ginormous mansion! He will come again, don’t ask me how, and personally receive us into heaven one day.

Wohoo.

No matter how beautiful or decrepit our earthly homes are, compared with the one God has prepared for us, they’re probably always going to look in a poor state of repair.

Like the kind that would lose it's roof in a tornado....

Blank Canvas

I was quickly taken aback by the - let’s say - very modern nature of the paintings at the Tate Modern recently; I even found myself tempted to fake fascination among the ooh’s and the aah’s.

“Don’t you think this blank canvas perfectly illustrates postmodernism”

“Erm...yes absolutely, and all the other ism’s too” Lord forgive me I've lied.

It surprised me that I didn't delve into the experience full throttle, after all I love art and one of my favourite phrases is “free admission”

Sitting down slightly befuddled, I imagined the thousands of people throwing thousands of pounds around at art auctions. I saw ladies in fur coats dripping with diamonds, gentlemen with Cuban cigars wearing designer labels, hands raised vying for the auctioneers attention. The hammer fell at the £50 million mark after twenty minutes of furious competition for Artist X’s “blank canvas”.

I just didn’t get the whole blank canvas thing.

Then as I walked around the turbine hall, I began to reflect on the artists’ ages, and how they seemed to live relatively long lives, well beyond 80. Surely someone once said that there's proven link between long life and happiness.

Perhaps Artist X had to scrape his pennies, struggle to pay bills, suffer ridicule from friends and family due to his very unorthodox artistry? But he was doing what he loved. He probably wouldn’t have chosen this path if his ambition was to make it big in the arts' world, because the pressure of “making it big” often starts to crowd out creativity, and draw people into operating on autopilot. Some of us stay in certain situations or relationships because it’s the safe option, because the thought of doing anything else, or being with someone else, is downright scary. I don’t necessarily advocate quitting a relationship or leaving a job to start painting; I’m talking about the due season when it becomes necessary to step out of the ordinary into new things.

Because, although Artist X might have painted an unusual painting and even risked ridicule, he didn’t seem scared of trying new things.

So thinking about Tate Modern, or when I look around at creation and see babies, flowers, trees, animals, I reflect on the fact that God has empowered creation to make more and continues to fill it with potential. It’s meant to grow, advance, change, move, morph.

Basically never be the same as yesterday.

Yes it might start out as a blank canvas - but it could end up looking like this:

Life is charged with creative potential and is- in some ways - a blank canvas or piece of paper. Perhaps blank because it’s purposely left unfinished; because we’ve been invited into the beginning stages of something?

The Lord says...

Behold I am doing a new thing! Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it and know it. Isaiah 43:19

I marvel at the thought of God being the greatest artist of all and like to think that, as the crown of His creation, we are His greatest works of art. How cool is it that no one else in the world has your fingerprints? The fact that we’re capable of complex verbal language and conscious thought; that we’re all created with different gifts and talents. And while the media may favour a certain body size, God created all body types and declared them all good. Each one wonderfully and fearfully made in intricate detail, over which God spent time pondering and designing.

And through you and me this pondering, designing and creating goes on and on because we're all in the business of making artwork out of our blank canvasses.

Who to vote for?

As the national election campaign barrels on like a runaway train, I realise that election day is just around the corner.

It strikes me that, when I’ve followed politics in the past I’ve thrown the information out of my mind instead of storing it in a ‘safe place’ for later use. I think this stalling has become the norm for many who can’t quite figure out the significance of politics, or think it’s only for people who use words like swingometer or watch Parliament Live TV.

Perhaps it's because our focus is elsewhere. Many would say that living in London is a struggle for survival, where the homes of the upper middle classes exist very close to areas of unbelievable poverty.

Paradoxically the struggle may be the reason why some don’t recognise the importance of voting. I think of Rosa Parks, one woman who one afternoon made a big difference with one simple action. She refused to listen to a bus driver’s command that she give up her seat because of her skin color, and as a result was arrested. But there was hope yet. Her small action led to a big action; a boycott that resulted in near bankruptcy for the bus company. Then, as pressure and momentum kept gaining pace, a court ruled that racial segregation on buses was unconstitutional.

Rosa’s small action led to a big action…..that led to a bigger action. I think struggle is the exact reason we need to vote; whether it’s you or your neighbor’s struggle – it's all the same!

I don’t know about you, but I am grateful to live in a democratic society, where I don’t have to fear for my well-being because of my religion or race.

I'm also grateful to have an MP who listens to people.

It began with a very considerate and meaningful response to my university questionnaire about youth crime. Then it was a nearly two page response to my letter about the inequality of the UK tax system. Then it was her letter updates about her many door knocking adventures in Haringey. Lynne Featherstone, my Liberal Democrat MP, has over the years tirelessly campaigned for better housing, more youth community centers and fairer taxation to benefit the poor.

But in the name of making well informed decisions, I’ve also looked at David Cameron's call for a "Big Society", including government working with voluntary and faith groups. A society that is unified and have a shared sense of purpose is likely to produce well adjusted individuals. It’s a very good aspiration, but not sure it is realistic. I’m thinking about the 4 million children living below the poverty line in the UK. Children are particularly vulnerable to poverty, and financial support for them and their families via the tax and social security system plays an important role in their protecting.

I’m also thinking about the fact that the square mile and the wealthy in London enjoy the greatest financial advantage over the poorest that has been recorded since the days of slavery (Read the Daily Mail)
Shouldn’t these topics be on top of the agenda, above volunteering, above military? As someone once said at Tearfund, you can’t preach to people with empty stomachs.

Enter Gordon Brown who makes frequent references to the "moral compass" he inherited from his Christian background. I know a few Christians who will vote for him because of this, but I think it’s more important to make an informed decision based on who is going to be the best person for the job, who will seek to eradicate child poverty, restrict bankers' bonuses and give financial help to mothers and fathers who want to care for their children at home. The question isn’t whether or not a candidate has an overt form of morality but whether or not he is able to tackle above mentioned issues. I also can’t help thinking that despite the optimism of 1997 life has gotten worse for people at the bottom and better for people at the top.

Nick Clegg strikes me as having captured the mood of the nation. He talks about revolutionary tax reform to make sure those at the top pay their fair share in order to allocate to the people who need it most; and ending the favorable tax subsidies which top earners make on their pension contributions. Desperate times, desperate measures. There’s a sense of urgency here that I like.

But suddenly I remember that, as a Finnish citizen, I can only vote locally. Disappointment.

I want to vote in national elections but can’t this time around. So, for now I’ll decide on the person I think would make the best MP for my area. With Haringey Council officially rated the worst in London we really do need a change from Labour’s forty years of rule, and Lib Dem MP Lynne Featherstone has well and truly deserved to win the majority.

Finally...

Pure, unstained religion, according to God our Father, is to take care of orphans and widows when they suffer and to remain uncorrupted by this world. James 1:27

Thank you for reading – and I pray you’ll have clarity and wisdom as you tick the box on your ballot paper on May the 6th.

A few hinkylinks for you….

If you want to pray

If you feel your vote doesn’t count

If you want to write to your local MP

Blog Introduction

I love conversations; whether they be over the dinnertable, in a street cafe, in a busy household, on park benches......and well on a blog. That's why I need to start by simply saying this: please talk to me! This is not a one-way blog, where I just inform you, reader, of the goings on in my life, fascinating as they are, but a space where reader and writer meet, chat, engage, reflect.

So...

I'm a Christian passionate about issues such as justice, politics, singing, books, nature, music, laughter, church, springtime, chocolate, the bible, things that make you go mmm, and did I mention my mum's homebaked bread? Everything rolled into one, into the delightful mixpot that life is.

I am also a person trying to figure out what it means to be a Christian and to follow God in my everyday life.

I like questions.

I think questions are good, because they challenge commonly held assumptions about ourselves and our environment. They help us to see things clearly; things which could have otherwise remained in the abyss of the unknown. However, I think the real challenge comes after you've asked the question, and somebody's answered it for you, and you have to move forward and make a choice. How do you act on that information?

Years ago my question was; how can I use my gifts to make a difference in the lives of those living in poverty? The answer eventually crystallised, like a very gradual eureka moment, and I suddenly had to make a choice to act or not to act. Looking back, I am amazed at how far my answer has taken me.

It could also be questions of less epic proportions like - which brand of coffee should I choose? Or how do I connect with my neighbours on a street where people barely say hello?

The questions, answers & choices thing is more difficult when you don't know of anyone who's gone before you - nobody to lend you a helping hand. You feel like a solitary figure blazing the trail of first time-ness, and you want out pronto. Because being the first at something can be both amazing and awe inspiring, as well as daunting and nerve wrecking. But it doesn't have to be that way. I'm realising that learning to stand isn't supposed to be quick and automatic like a baby's first gasps for breath; it's learned. So I practice and I practice.

In the meantime I look to friends, faith, relationships, politics, blogging; everything under the sun that will teach me to stand up for what I believe in, even if I am blazing a trail or going against the grain.

And whatever that means at any particular time....well you'll just have to stick around to find out.