torchwood, but I wouldn’t

Wish for immortality, that is. Something that unknowingly, and without understanding it, so much of our society longs for. Easy immortality though, to be fair. We wish to be immortal at the best and most able part of our lives. Not to be immortal and be… old. Or… ill. After all, where would L’Oreal be if we didn’t age. 

*Caution – Torchwood plot spoilers!* 

I am a big Torchwood fan. The new series needs to do a lot to satisfy die-hard fans of a quirky Cardiff-based and very British low-budget sci-fi drama, and as the story goes so far, this is good. The basic premise:

Nobody can die. Death is not an option. 

Even those who should be dead are not. Something is keeping people alive despite accidents and illness; even severed limbs still contain life. The planet faces overpopulation within 4 months. Hospitals are full of people who are alive, but in terrible pain. Triage is reversed, there is no ‘golden hour’ for A&E patients during which their lives can be saved. They will not die anyway. Minor injuries are treated first to get them out of the hospital, whilst seriously injured wait.  Just… wait.

The miracle day becomes a terrible day.

jack in a (wooden) box?

With this simple but dramatic change, the tables are turned on attitudes to death. From fearing death, from death being the enemy and to be avoided at all costs, suddenly death is the old friend people desperately want. Our craving for constant youth and for constant life seems ridiculous. In an instant an entire culture in the West designed around real-life death-avoidance finds the ground it stands on disappears.

We who follow Jesus are not afraid of death. We welcome it, in fact. In theory. When we read the book of Revelation, for example, we can see that death is not to be feared; the early church certainly wouldn’t have seen it that way. But it doesn’t swing so far that way that we end up craving death, like so many seem to – the sort of ‘passport to leave this earth and get to heaven’ mis-reading of Scripture. Jesus came to bring life and life in all its fulness – in this life and the one beyond.

gwen will it all end?

So we do not fear death, though we may fear its consequences for those we leave behind.  We welcome death, in it’s right time and place, because we know life is not designed to be immortal. The weariness and loneliness of Dr Who and Captain Jack are windows into the world of those who do not die. Even Jesus died.

Our story is of a life that dies but that does not stay dead. Our story is of resurrection that conquers death and all fear of death. Our Miracle Day is not the day people stopped dying, but the day one man died and was raised to life. Our story is not immortal life but eternal life, that begins here and now whilst we are mortal.

In Torchwood through one life all crave death; in Jesus, through one death we all gain life.
Watch the Torchwood: Miracle Day trailer here…

house of cards

It’s terrifying when it all comes tumbling down. The world so carefully crafted around you, a world built around friendships and favours, shared interests and mutual fears. A world carefully controlled by the interlocking spiderwebs of self-interest and self-preservation. A world in which the original reason you built  your house of cards is long-forgotten amidst the task of maintaining your current position.

Maybe this is News International. Maybe this is the continuing revelations about deep corruption at the heart of our free press, elected politicians and our Police force. That is certainly a house of cards that is tumbling, tumbling, tumbling. How far will it fall?

It’s made me think about, well, me. Us. About how easy it is to get drawn in, to take a simple and firm foundation and begin to build on it with cards. After all, we are called to influence the world we live in; so it is important to know people to be able to do that. So how do we choose those worth knowing? Card 1. We cannot know everyone, so who do we ditch? Card 2. It is important to have the press onside. Card 3. Better the devil you know. Card 4.

Jesus had an unusual relationship with the ruling elite. They wanted him as one of them, but they couldn’t have him. The Pharisees saw his qualities and some of them saw his truth – see Nicodemus – but he was too risky for them. They had a house of cards they did not want the Spirit to blow through. Position, favour, reputation. White-washed tombs, Jesus called them. Looks great on the outside, but contains only death within. Harsh?

It’s easy to knock those in the public eye. As the webs of deceit and corruption surrounding surrounding News International and our ruling elite are exposed, it is easy to look in righteous anger. And rightly so. Yet in that old cliche from the 90′s, What Would Jesus Do?

Remove the plank from your own eye before you point out the speck in your brother’s.

I know the church has friends in high places. Not just the ‘established‘ church, though of course we probably go as high as it’s possible, what with the Queen being the Supreme Governor of the church and our Bishop’s sitting in the House of Lord’s. There’s also many Christian lobbying groups and think-tanks, from Theos to Ekklesia to CARE to Faithworks and Charities Parliament; there’s well-known and unknown Christians at the heart of our decision-making, like Steve Chalke to Rowan Williams and many others from across the spectrum of evangelical to Catholic, conservative to liberal.

We must pray for them. We must help in holding them all to account, whether we support them or not. Do they get too close, or not close enough? Are they blowing on the house of cards, or helping build one? We’re in it together. We’re about Jesus, not reputation. Kingdom, not personal empire, whether we mix with Prime Ministers or local councillors or the local gang leader.

There’s a lot of houses of cards out there. It’s good to blow on them. It’s not good to sit on them.

Though we cannot help it. After all, what is faith, if not a house of cards?

truth of the world

It is easy to rub our hands in glee. It is easy to join in the (somewhat hypocritical) recriminations that our politicians are engaging in. It is easy to speak words of hate or of vengeance. It is easy to jump on a bandwagon.

But our news of the world is good news and we are meant to be good news. That good news is love. Deep love. That affects and infects everything we do and every thing we are.

When the Hebrews wanted to get something across that was deep-felt and passionate, they didn’t write treatises and systematic theologies. Or letters to newspapers. They blogged poetry. They poured forth. I do too sometimes – it’s not all good, it wouldn’t win awards, but that’s not the point.

…………………………………………….

I see you and I notice you
I see you and I notice you

and I see that you feel angry
and I see that you feel frightened
and I see that you feel entitled
and I see that you feel rights

and I love you
and I love you
and I love you

I see that you see other people getting more than you
I see that you see other people paying less than you
I see that you see other people served quicker than you
I see that you see people from a different place than you

standing where you want to be standing
living where you want to be living
receiving what you want to be receiving

and I see that I love you and I see that I love you
and I see that I love you and I see that I love you

and I see that you see no-one understanding
and I see that you see no-one caring
and I see that you see that it always was this way
and I see that you see that always it will be

and I see that you hear that I love you
and I see that you hear that I love you

and I want you to feel that I love you
and I want you to taste that I love you
and I want you to breathe that I love you

breathe in
…and love
breathe out
…and love

breathe love to change us
breathe love to mould us to break us to bend us
breathe love to move us
breathe love become part of us
breathe love in to breathe love out
breathe a generous love
breathe a hopeful love

and your love and my love can rub together
and explode into a beautiful and terrifying and awesome
explosion of love
that we will never be the same again
because the smile on your face will be so big
and the weight will be lifted
and the fear will be ended
and you will be transformed…

…and even so, and anyway, and because, and forever,
I love you.

…………………………………………………….

This poem first appeared in on paranoid tabloids in February 2010

certified

I remember my first car chase. I say car chase. I was on my bicycle, and slapped a car for stopping on the yellow-box junction outside Oval tube. He reversed out of the queue and chased me down a side-street where I lost him.

I remember the first time I was punched. It was days after the car chase, in almost the same place. I had slapped the white van for pulling out on me when I was cycling home from work; the white van man chased me, and I didn’t lose him. He overtook me, waited for me, and punched me.

After this I took the bus to work.

I assume both those driver had driving licenses. Their driving licenses didn‘t mean they were driving well. The fact that I have my cycling proficiency certificate from 1987 didn’t mean I was cycling well either.

The proof of ability to drive is in the driving, not the certificate. The proof of ability to cycle is in the cycling, not the certificate.

I have another certificate. My birth certificate proves that a birth took place.  But it doesn’t prove that I am still alive. What proves I am alive? Me.

Hello.

Jesus talks about us being born again, or born from above. It’s like being born the first time, except that the first gulp of life-source we take is not air, but the Spirit. In the Greek, the word is pnuema, as in pneumatic tyre. Filled with pneuma.

Often when this happens we get a certificate. We remember this day. Like our first birth, we rightly celebrate it, but unless we keep on breathing the Spirit our baptism certificate, like our birth certificate, is meaningless. Interesting history, but it doesn’t prove life. And this applies whether you are baptised as a baby or a believing adult. Because neither prove on-going life. Anyone can get wet.

We may go faithfully to church every week; we may just come for a baptism. But the challenge is the same for all of us. Are we living as new creations? Are we living as those who have been born from the spirit, breathing in him as our source of life, reconciled to God and changed from the inside out?

That is proof of life.  Certified.

cooling your calling

Calling is a funny thing. It’s one of those words we use for Christians with worthy Christian… erm, callings. You know, vicars, missionaries, worship leaders, Mike Pilavachi. Calling is for people with extra-ordinary jobs. It’s for people called out of the secular and into the sacred. Not ordinary people. “They” are called. Not “we”.

That of course is not a very Christian view, and has little Biblical basis. It is, however, what is unknowingly and often unintentionally preached.

Which is why it was refreshing on Sunday to have Ann Moore with us at church, a lady who has spent the last 15 years working in Kisiizi hospital in Uganda. A classic case of the “proper” calling? She spoke about faith that changes people, from Hebrews 11. Her point? That our faith must change us, or it is not true faith; that our faith might lead us to an extra-ordinary calling like going abroad. But just as likely it will lead us to an extra-ordinary calling in the place in which we already live.

We are all called to live as disciples, as followers. All are called to submit our lives to Jesus as our lord. This will impact our families, our parenting, our finances, our friendships. It may impact where we live or what we do; or how we do it. Whether we are “just” a mum in an un-supportive marriage or we are a “missionary” in foreign places, the key thing is: are we submitted to Jesus as much as we can be? Being a called abroad doesn’t guarantee it, nor does being called to be at home cancel it out.

I know. I was called home once. I spent a year living and working in Uganda, teaching Old Testament history to Ugandan, Rwandan, Burundi, Congolese and Sudanese students. I know, God has a sense of humour. I explored the possibility that God was calling me abroad longer-term and God said… no. Go home, he said. Go home and work in your own country. So I went home.

back in the day

That is as much of a calling. As is what I am now, being a husband. Being a dad. Being a friend. Being a part of a church. Being in a running club. As is where you are, if you are submitted to Jesus as Lord. He may call us out of where we are to somewhere else. He may not. That is not the point. The point is, do we allow our faith to change us, to inform our decisions, to lead us? Our identity is found in being children of God, followers of the Way, apprentices of Jesus. 

If we get that, then all the guff about one calling being higher up the spiritual scale than another can be left well behind.

olympic baptism bingo

There’s a new Olympic sport. Not as much of a guilty pleasure as beach volleyball, but good nonetheless. It’s called Olympic News Bingo, and involves watching BBC London (my local news) and seeing how many tenuous links to the Olympics they can make with an ordinary news story.

A bus has crashed – OLYMPIC TRAVEL CHAOS.
Famous person visits London – OLYMPIC HOTEL CHAOS.
Boris Johnson – OLYMPIC BORIS JOHNSON CHAOS.

Wenlock

You get the picture. 

Without wishing to cash in on such cheap journalistic techniques, I was thinking about how much the Olympic ticket lottery was a bit like many people’s attitudes to child baptism.

To get an Olympic ticket, you don’t have to be into sport, you just need to want to be there; you don’t have to know what it will be there – you may end up watching cycling or wrestling or hammer-throwing – but at least you will be there; you don’t have to make any long-term commitment, just give your credit card details, sit back and wait. It may work out, it may not. At least you’ve done your bit to try. 

Many people approach having their children baptised in a similar way. You don’t have to be into Jesus (or even religion), you just need to want them want them to get into heaven, though you don’t really know what that means and actually aren’t very interested in finding out. Like handing over your credit card details to Olympic organisers, you make the “renouncing evil” promises through gritted teeth. You don’t really know what you are promising, or where you will end up, but at least you are in shout for a ticket.

manderville

And the best thing? No long-term commitment.  Ok, the vicar goes on about the ‘baptism legacy’ being you and your child involved in your local church developing healthy spiritual lives… but you know as well as he does that you have no interest in a long-term legacy, just like getting an Olympic ticket isn’t going to make you join a gym. You just want a ticket and then to go home.

I know not everyone thinks like this. We are about to do our first baptisms at our church for years and our prayer is that in the same way buying an Olympic ticket might get more people involved in the wonderfully life-giving life-changing thing that is participation in sport, so our baptisms might get more people involved in the wonderfully life-giving life-changing thing that it participation in Jesus’ kingdom, in bringing heaven to earth now, not just for the future.

Only time will tell. I know I am convinced that no ticket will give me a better view of the Olympics then from my armchair. So there I will stay.

unnecessary beach volleyball picture