On the fringe - or - never able to arrive at the truth

It is a universal truth - though largely ignored by some die-hard archaeologists - that there is no known culture in the world without religious beliefs (Terence Meaden, Archaeologist, Oxon). An interesting observation - some would say it is because there is a "God shaped hole" in everyone.

I have a rich Christian heritage but more to the point where am I now? Like in "But whom do you say that I am?".

I remember cringing when someone we used to visit would ask me "and what has God being doing in your life?" - because I could never think that there was anything in particular.

My earliest church memories were of Alresford Congregational church. Later we went by train to Winchester Baptist Church where I, tacet, would sometimes sit beside my father on the polished organ bench. His own folk were at various times nonconformist evangelical, Baptist and Peculiar and his father was at one time a reverend.

Winchester Baptist Church

Speaking of which, the ‘The Peculiar People’ were initially quite a fiery bunch but, doubtless after a generation, their zeal diminished. They later changed their name to the ‘Union of Evangelical Churches’ and their web site now says "divine healing does not now have such prominence..." If folk really were healed once, this seems a strange statement to make. Like, we don't want any of this getting better stuff.

My parents then joined NFC from whence stem most of my childhood church memories. Here I went to Sunday School and later the Adventurer's Club, was baptised, and first spoke (briefly and timidly) in public. Open Brethren based, I am thankful for the good knowledge of the Bible that NFC instilled in me, but I must have been suitably indoctrinated because, when I left home for college, I naively considered all other churches inferior and probably heretical and was surprised when I discovered committed Christians from other persuasions. In my final year I agreed to become the OICCU "Rep" for my college and, under considerable duress, was obliged to sign a statement of doctrine. It wasn't that I had a problem with anything there but I disagreed strongly (and still do) with the need to sign.

Whilst in Oxford I tried various church flavours including the James Street brethren assembly (now re-branded "evangelical") - the folk there were very friendly but I didn't fit in. Plain contrary to my upbringing I ended up most at home in the reasonably high Anglican college chapel - because the chaplain cared about my well being, because it was local and because I found I could worship God there. Despite the occasional smells and bells.

On finding my feet in my first job I started to attend CBC where I met and married Ali, and when we both wanted to be involved in young people's work we first had to become church members which implied signing up to their doctrine, which I once again did under much duress.

Both Ali and I wanted more than CBC appeared to offer and thus we met together with like-minded folk of similar age. One year the group had a holiday-cum-conference hosted by a Christian community in Eastleigh and this was our first introduction to communal living and The Move.

You can Google The Move and its founding leader Sam Fife and you'll find a lot of nonsense as well as some truth. And sure there was some nonsense, doubtless because of People. We had our share of this nonsense but thankfully nothing serious - because we were on the fringe.  The Wikipedia link is rather dated and things have changed, mellowed - a bit like the Peculiar People I wonder?

That Sam Fife (who I never met) was a "one man ministry", or at least the dominant leader, did raise warning bells in me but, hang it all, wasn't Jesus also a "one man ministry"? The thing is, some of what Fife preached his followers now don't go along with - at least they no longer emphasise - like "people of God we are not going to die" and the "wilderness message". If those radical areas that so intrigued his followers are now mellowed, do we revert to being plain evangelicals?

Probably not - Ali's parents were, for a time, Exclusive Brethren. When they left, not being able to stomach some of the more radical and intrusive teachings, her father could never feel at home in any other church flavour, none of which had the same sense of family and depth of conservative doctrine, so ended up without christian fellowship for the rest of his life.  I think I might have done similarly.

Seen in Texas 3 days ago

A recent guest on the Ryan Tubridy Show on RTE-radio-1 told how, when he was about six, he saw an angel standing beside his bed.  He hadn't told anyone else for years but much later his younger brother (who had shared the bedroom and would have been less than two at the time) asked him if he remembered the angel. So did that really happen?

I once saw an angel. I was a child sitting up in my bed at home. The angel was standing on top of a chimney stack on a building opposite my bedroom window: much taller than a human, with wings and shining white. Certainly not a cloud formation! But it might have been a dream - I cannot remember clearly: did that really happen?

My Aunt Mary claimed she had seen angels. She claimed all manner of things, mind you, but it would be wrong to discredit her experiences just for that reason.

If we cannot confirm whether recent extraordinary things like these really happened, what chance have we of confirming stories about a man who lived 2,000 years ago?  Most historians concede that the man Jesus existed - but they get woolly about the miracles. Did they really happen?  On the other hand why would anyone writing a Gospel account chose to blatantly lie?

Along with many others, I have a burden for a child with leukaemia and have earnestly prayed for his complete healing. His father is a Methodist minister and he also is praying for total healing: I would interpret this as "faith". But whilst there has been good medical progress, currently there has been a relapse. I am at least encouraged when I read "See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven". It's not the end of the story, of course, but I had hoped... But maybe I am missing something, maybe his being healed now would spoil some vast eternal plan?

We humans are rum creatures. We think we know so much and yet we know so little. Our understanding of science, when descriptive and thus concerning things we can measure now, is all very well. But when it becomes inferential, concerning things long ago or yet to come or far, far away or far too small, who knows whether we have it right? I sometimes wonder whether, if you look hard enough with a preconceived dogma, nature will oblige. Thus the double slit experiment which could be thought to answer to two apparently contradictory theories.

There's people who genuinely think the earth is flat. Or this guy who goes along with the electric sun hypothesis and writes:

Yet, here is an incredible thing. Even though the theories of Newton, Einstein, and Twentieth Century astronomy are blown to pieces on almost a daily basis by what is actually out there, yet modern man has refused absolutely to let go of those dis-proven ideas... And so to explain how "gravity" can do all these wondrous things, the mathematicians have pulled out of their hats such unprovable bits of nonsense as "dark matter," and "black holes," and "string theory," and "nuclear fusion," and so on. None of these fantastical ideas ever find their way into a practical laboratory because all engineers know they are complete fabrications. Governments have spent untold billions of dollars to duplicate "nuclear fusion" on earth to complete and continuing failure. Why? Because there is no such thing. That's why it takes government money to build the huge "super colliders." No private business would waste a penny on such nonsense. So, let's look at astronomy as it really is. The universe is electrical. The sun is a large solid ball of rock that sustains a vast and continual electrical arc lamp discharge above its surface exactly like the electrical arc used by welders. That electrical arc is fed by huge currents of electricity that flow down the arms of the Milky Way to its center.

His position is gently ameliorated here but, honestly, with things we can, at best, hardly detect, who can say whether our theories are correct?

In our early community years we were already convinced about home schooling our kids. We listened to a CLA teaching about legal cases where the US child protection authorities took kids from their parents and, on their advice, we decided to eschew child benefit to cut one possible hold the government might have on our kids. Years later I think of all that cash we didn't get and see all the young parents here taking child benefit without a thought. And yet I read the other day Norway's hidden scandal - so were we so stupid? I certainly have no regrets about home schooling. Our four children have not grown up with carbon copies of their parents strange beliefs as some think home schooled kids will, but each are now making their own choice as to how they should live and what they should belief, as is right and proper. And I am proud of them.

I like to think that I am searching for truth (though probably not nearly hard enough as in strive to enter in at the strait gate: for many, I say unto you, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able).  But I am allergic to religious or hypocritical sort of "truth". Like in the parable of the leaven in all three measures of flour: I suppose the Kingdom of God must attract error.

In searching for truth I find myself coming back, again and again, to the gospel accounts of the life of Jesus. I try to read them without the preconceptions I grew up with, and I find a very human man with emotions and a sense of humour, who enjoys a good meal, who gets tired and thirsty after a long journey. Here I might add (though the accounts leave it out) that doubtless his body sweated and needed washing, that he had to go to the loo, cut his finger nails, and all the basic stuff we experience but don't generally advertise. But in this human frame he did only what he understood his Heavenly Father wanted, and thus he wrought amazing miracles, and he was crucified and died "to make us good".  And I get goose-bumps when I sing:

...Risen with healing in his wings 

Mild he lays his glory by, 

Born that man no more may die: 

Born to raise the son of earth, 

Born to give them second birth...
[Charles Wesley]

and

There is a green hill far away,

Without a city wall,

Where the dear Lord was crucified,

Who died to save us all

We may not know, we cannot tell,

What pains He had to bear;

But we believe it was for us

He hung and suffered there.

He died that we might be forgiven,

He died to make us good,

That we might go at last to heaven,

Saved by His precious blood.

There was no other good enough

To pay the price of sin;

He only could unlock the gate

Of heaven and let us in.

O dearly, dearly has He loved,

And we must love Him, too,

And trust in His redeeming blood,

And try His works to do.
[Cecil Frances Alexander]

Interestingly Cecil Frances Alexander, née Humphreys, second daughter of the late Major John Humphreys, Miltown House, co. Tyrone, Ireland, b. 1823, also author of All things bright and beautiful... The purple-headed mountain, the river running by might well have lived at or at least been associated with Humpreystown House, in which case those purple headed mountains are the ones we see across the lake at this time of the year, and the river might be the Liffey or Kings River.

Community is...

... sharing a common vision?

In our circles the question is asked "what is your vision?" the implication being that God has given the community some specific raison d'être.

As I ponder this question I am of course aware of our links with certain other Christian communities across the world. A Google trail will turn up some good but mostly negative opinions of these communities, the negative ones being fairly obviously written by folk who have left with a large chip on their shoulder. Personally I do not identify with this sort of "vision". Back in Oxford days I agreed to be the OICCU "Rep" for our college for one year, but in order to do this I was told I had to sign my agreement to their Statement of Faith and this I refused to do on principle. Later, in my BBC Research days, I attended a baptist church and wanted to help out with young people's meetings. I was told I had to first become a "church member" and to do this I had to sign an agreement to their Statement of Faith. They would not budge on this requirement so I signed under considerable duress. Although since then I have not been asked to repeat this signing business, I hope you will surmise that I strongly resist and abhor being constrained into someone else's belief pattern.

When I consider the individuals in our community I do not find strict adherence to any particular denomination or movement in spite of the fact that every year we invite ministries from the aforementioned "links" for our annual convention. True, a common denominator is our Christian faith and obviously a desire to express this in our living together, but beyond that we are all different. Some have thought this a weakness but I rather think it is a strength. Although at the same time I wonder if there is enough cohesion to keep our community from self-destruction, which cohesion has to be that agape love that transcends human differences.

How I came to be married

There were 4 or 5 of us doing Physics at Oriel in my year. If you had asked any of them who was the least likely to get married it would have been me. After we graduated I think they laid a bet on my being the last. And so it came as a surprise when in fact I was the first - it surprised me too!

I have recorded else-where some of my earlier would-be sweethearts. It didn't take very long for the penny to drop and thus I vowed never again to try to make a relationship happen. If God wanted me married I figured He could arrange it.

Cheam Baptist Church

There was a girl, a blonde, who played guitar in our Young People's meetings at NFC. She was several years older and thus out of my reach but I respected and looked up to her. I liked her guitar playing. When I started working for the BBC I found lodgings in Sutton and started going to CBC which happened to be where this girl went. So it was natural that I should look out for her and renew acquaintance. Being a nervous newbie I sat at the back - and saw a head of hair I thought might be her. When, after the meeting, this person turned around to leave I saw my mistake but also saw love at first sight. So I slyly followed her to the car park and found she drove a white Triumph Spitfire. I was duly impressed.

1960's Triumph Spitfire

I decided to find out where she lived so the following week after church I tailed her - me in my 600 cc two-cylinder horizontally-opposed Ami 8. It was some chase and I have to admit she got the better of me, but by driving up and down every street in the area I tracked the car down and thus narrowed the search to a couple of houses either side of where it was parked.

1971 Citroen Ami 8

Fervent in prayer and cognisant of my vow I allowed myself to go no further than as follows. I had a friendly yellow bicycle with 3-speed Sturmey Archer gears (sadly it was later stolen) and it was in the habit of going for rides at weekends. I dooned old clothes and, since in those days bell-bottom trousers could easily get caught in the chain, bicycle clips, and set out on an arduous ride planning my return to go past her lodging. I knocked on what I judged to be the correct house and, wonder of wonders, she came to the door to behold me in all my sweaty and bicycle-clippy glory.  My party piece was to invite her to "Sunday afternoon tea" (what else for a first date?). She declined. Then, being polite, conceded - perhaps another time? But I rejoiced - I had purposely made myself unattractive and yet had made first contact.

I do not think the afternoon tea ever happened but from then on we started a friendship. We had both started going to the church at about the same time and because our work took us to the area. We both had an interest in working with young people and ended up "teaching" in the JBF (Junior Bible Fellowship) for young teens. We sometimes prayed together for these youngsters. And many such sometimes later I blurted out that I loved her and asked her to marry me. She declined. She said she had never thought of me in that way and could we be "just good friends". I considered this to be impossible and so we started seeing less of each other.  I told her that if ever she changed her mind she could write me a postcard.

The postcard idea came from one of my father's much repeated stock of jokes. "If you get left behind just send us a postcard and we'll come and pick you up".

I had done what I allowed myself to do. The ball was now firmly in the court of Providence. All I could do was to wait. I do not know how long it was - it seemed an age but I doubt if it was more than a couple of months - before the postcard came. And so we were engaged and the rest, as they say, is history.

One of the things one has to do is to meet the parents. I rang my mother to say I was coming home for the weekend and could I bring a friend? Wisely she asked if it was a special friend... and later observed that she had always reckoned it would be like this - one moment unattached, the next moment a serious relationship and I'd come home with the girl of my dreams on my shoulder. As soon as they met Ali they approved of her, so that was the first hurdle crossed.

Came the time to ask her father for her hand in marriage. Her parents were then living in a rather grandiose house near Brockam, Surrey. We arranged to come for a meal and I did the necessary and in reply he asked if I "had the means to provide for her in the way in which she was accustomed" - to which I said I thought that I did, having a better than average job in the BBC. Doubtless to calm my nerves he then invited me to a drink. Not being used to being presented with a well stocked drinks cabinet I blurted out the only thing I thought was at all appropriate - a shot of Bénédictine - which was duly served and consumed. I think he had sherry and, whilst sipping mine, I wished I had chosen his.

I could (but will not) talk about the intense pleasure of even the slightest physical contact at Leith hill or how, once married, I solved the problem of which way up, and so forth.  Which makes me wonder - why is the older (at least British) generation so bad at communicating with the younger generation, or vice versa, about such things?

Is it not strange that it never occurs to the young to benefit from the possible wisdom of older folk who have so obviously gone through the process of growing up, falling in love, getting married, intercourse (hard for a young person to believe) and raising children. Indeed, when young, one imagines that any experiences the last generation might have had would be totally out-dated and not even worth asking about. Or one is too embarrassed. Do they think we have never had sexual feelings? Do they think we would laugh at their immaturity or naivety? Goodness - what do they think? Whereas when those of us who are older see youngsters struggling, we would gladly reach out a hand. But to be the instigator: for me it is once-bitten-twice-shy, I have been the fool and am now too cautious to go where angels fear to tread. If, should be, someone who qualifies as "younger" is reading this post, consider carefully. Folk older than you have had, still have, like passions...