What's Facebook got to do with life? One reads that if you are not on Facebook then life is passing you by. Hmmmm.
The last 20 hours has been a period of time that lifts up the heart and causes a real sense of joy and goodwill toward men. It started yesterday evening....
After a hectic day which saw friends missing their flight to visit family because the nearby International Airport security was so slow, re-arranging their tickets for later in the day (and yes, they had to pay for another set of tickets - the airline said it wasn't their fault that security was so slow), fitting in Christmas shopping, another trip to the airport to deliver the friends a second time and more Christmas shopping, it was no wonder that with all the parcels and a 10 year old in tow, I lost my book of 'cards'. Bus pass, debit card and another 10 personal bits of information which made up part of my little identity. All lost, and what's more, I hadn't even realized it.
Soon after arriving home in the evening the phone rang. An Asian voice spoke at the other end having the usual difficulty with the pronunciation of my surname. Feeling as though the patience of Job was called for I suffered his attempts at identifying me and was waiting to tell him that, in fact, we didn't accept telephone sales and that our number was ex-directory so therefore, how was it that he had got it, when he asked me if I had noticed that my cards were lost.
Well, you can imagine my swift change of attitude! After arranging a time to meet in the morning and him identifying himself (so we could recognize him) as tall, dark and handsome, we met him this morning for coffee and this was his story.
He had just purchased an item from a shop in the shopping Mall and was on his way home when he felt prompted to go back and sit down in the nearby central seating area for a few minutes. Doing so, he noticed a paper bag on the floor partly under the bench. A few seconds later another man close-by, picked up the bag and asked our new found friend if it belonged to him.
Our new friend again, feeling prompted, said, 'yes, it is mine'. Looking inside, he found my plastic folder of cards. Going home, his first thought on how to deal with the situation was to report it to the police, which he duly did. They wanted him to come up to the Police station. At night, in the rain, and walking! Well, the Officer said, bring it tomorrow.
Still feeling unsettled by the incident, he decided to try to find me personally. First, he tried Facebook. No joy. But among the cards was a Postal delivery note for collection from the nearest depot. This had our badly written address on it, which meant finding us on Google maps was ruled out, as Google didn't recognise the street address. Next, he typed my name into Google and finding my telephone listed under a Church, he rang.
What amazed him was the persistent feeling that God loved this unknown person very much. Our new friend could not divest himself of this perception.
Although he was brought up in a family where his mother was a strong Christian and, apart from her own job, also voluntarily preached the gospel, he himself had only recently had a born-again experience.
He was now actively asking the Lord, (as we call Him) to show him how best to live his life. Discovering that I was a Christian - as evidenced by my contact to our Church, he could not wait to tell me what a blessing the experience had been for him, and I myself found it so special, I could not wait to write it down.
Christ, the Giver. Even at this Christmas time, 2011 years later, still giving. Still uniting man with man, still working so that the love and unity which He determined so long ago in Himself - as His kingdom - making in Himself, people from every nation, one new creation! Who can find words to express the absolute beauty of this?
Two other little points. I had asked our Church secretary to please remove my phone number from the internet. She never had. And my own pronunciation of unfamiliar words which occur in people from a different tongue and culture to my own, is far from perfect.
So Facebook, can you deliver an experience like this? The answer is just a plain, simple 'No'. Do I really need you then? No, Facebook, I don't. Long after your day has come and gone, Christ will still be with us. That's reason for a shout of 'Hallelujah'!
Tuesday 20 December 2011
Friday 16 December 2011
The Urge To Explain
The shower of rain, snow, whirlwinds, cold, frozen rivers.... He leads the thick clouds with moisture; the clouds scatter His lightning. They turn around and round by His guidance to accomplish all the He commands them on the face of the habitable world."
These are the words of Scripture. Either you accept them for what they say, or you do not. If you argue poetic licence, the unfeasibility of expressing truths beyond our understanding in words we can comprehend, you have a difficulty - for who is to decide what is intended to be taken literally, at face value, and what has to be interpreted, in the light of other scriptures, in order to arrive a their proper, intended meaning.
If one is to retain one's faith in scripture as the Word of God, studying the Word prayerfully in the light of the whole - comparing scripture with scripture as we are specifically instructed to do - will not the Truth contained in the whole shine forth?
If there is doubt on this score, the value of the Word is mightily diminished, is it not? For its true perception belongs only to the elite - those who can read it in the original text, or those enjoying the resources of time and money enabling them to purchase the Word in their own familiar language, and a commentary, Bible dictionary and any other study aids as required by the reader, according to their abilities and available time.
Even given the availability of both these commodities (in adequate quantities), one is still faced with the task of deciding which interpretation among the many, one will decide upon as most trustworthy, accurate, applicable to one's own circumstances. It appears that the field of theological study is littered with the landmines of conflicting interpretation and application. What, then, is one to do?
How can one be certain that any particular resource is the correct one? The issue is not one to be taken lightly. It is crucial. Down the centureis peoples, tribes, individuals, nations, companies of nations, have argued differing interpretations, each belief system held with an integrity so passionate that rivers of blood have been shed in defence of (even by methods contradictory to,) a particular body of belief, expressed in a particular manner of worship.
Does this process, seemingly as inevitable as it is ghastly, not undermine to the point of irrefutable contradiction, the principles, claims, the very validity of most religions? Man feels himself obliged to have some account of his existence. He is, unavoidably, aware of not just the wonder of his own being, but also of creation all about him.
There is so much about it that he cannot understand. Yet, it seems, Man has, in his deepest consciousness, his inner being, a compulsion to acknowledge some force, some process, most satisfyingly some Being, to account for his existence, and therefore intimately involved in his manner of life, his survival.
Inevitably, differing concepts of this source of origin will find expression in the formulation of a system of belief principles conducive to the well-being, even the survival, of clusters of humanity in various part of the globe, perhaps of the cosmos. Sooner or later the disparate clusters, each with it's own interpretation, understanding and manifestation of that perception of their origin, character and destiny, will come into conflict.
Why the two groups, meeting, could not amalgamate in a pooling of resources for the betterment of both must be due to what has been cynically termed the Selfish Gene. Whatever the reason, the outcome has been continual competition and dispute, the survival of the fittest, with all the ugly, unpleasant connotations this implies.
What seems to emerge, then, is that Mankind, as a whole, has failed to perceive or to live out its destiny. The fragmentation of the species has resulted more in competition than co-operation. It is now, at this time in the history of Creation, the responsibility of individuals to seek for themselves the verities of our existence and to put them into practice.
Those who seek the truth in spiritual realities would seem to do this best - for themselves and for Creation as a whole.
These are the words of Scripture. Either you accept them for what they say, or you do not. If you argue poetic licence, the unfeasibility of expressing truths beyond our understanding in words we can comprehend, you have a difficulty - for who is to decide what is intended to be taken literally, at face value, and what has to be interpreted, in the light of other scriptures, in order to arrive a their proper, intended meaning.
If one is to retain one's faith in scripture as the Word of God, studying the Word prayerfully in the light of the whole - comparing scripture with scripture as we are specifically instructed to do - will not the Truth contained in the whole shine forth?
If there is doubt on this score, the value of the Word is mightily diminished, is it not? For its true perception belongs only to the elite - those who can read it in the original text, or those enjoying the resources of time and money enabling them to purchase the Word in their own familiar language, and a commentary, Bible dictionary and any other study aids as required by the reader, according to their abilities and available time.
Even given the availability of both these commodities (in adequate quantities), one is still faced with the task of deciding which interpretation among the many, one will decide upon as most trustworthy, accurate, applicable to one's own circumstances. It appears that the field of theological study is littered with the landmines of conflicting interpretation and application. What, then, is one to do?
How can one be certain that any particular resource is the correct one? The issue is not one to be taken lightly. It is crucial. Down the centureis peoples, tribes, individuals, nations, companies of nations, have argued differing interpretations, each belief system held with an integrity so passionate that rivers of blood have been shed in defence of (even by methods contradictory to,) a particular body of belief, expressed in a particular manner of worship.
Does this process, seemingly as inevitable as it is ghastly, not undermine to the point of irrefutable contradiction, the principles, claims, the very validity of most religions? Man feels himself obliged to have some account of his existence. He is, unavoidably, aware of not just the wonder of his own being, but also of creation all about him.
There is so much about it that he cannot understand. Yet, it seems, Man has, in his deepest consciousness, his inner being, a compulsion to acknowledge some force, some process, most satisfyingly some Being, to account for his existence, and therefore intimately involved in his manner of life, his survival.
Inevitably, differing concepts of this source of origin will find expression in the formulation of a system of belief principles conducive to the well-being, even the survival, of clusters of humanity in various part of the globe, perhaps of the cosmos. Sooner or later the disparate clusters, each with it's own interpretation, understanding and manifestation of that perception of their origin, character and destiny, will come into conflict.
Why the two groups, meeting, could not amalgamate in a pooling of resources for the betterment of both must be due to what has been cynically termed the Selfish Gene. Whatever the reason, the outcome has been continual competition and dispute, the survival of the fittest, with all the ugly, unpleasant connotations this implies.
What seems to emerge, then, is that Mankind, as a whole, has failed to perceive or to live out its destiny. The fragmentation of the species has resulted more in competition than co-operation. It is now, at this time in the history of Creation, the responsibility of individuals to seek for themselves the verities of our existence and to put them into practice.
Those who seek the truth in spiritual realities would seem to do this best - for themselves and for Creation as a whole.
Wednesday 14 December 2011
Giving To Charity
As a badge-wearing volunteer collector over several years for a well-known Charity operating under the auspices of a small local church, I am sometimes challenged by church-goers and non-churchgoers alike, as to the ethics of systematic, house-to-house collection of donations from the general public. No-one, in my experience, has reacted angrily to my knock on their door. At most, those uncomfortable with being asked if they wish to donate respond either with a silent shake of the head, or an explanation that they donate regularly elsewhere. In private, they might fall into the category of those who consider it a violation of privacy to be faced with such a question. They may have a point. Or else simply do not wish to donate and feel a certain discomfort about having to say so. I prefer to attribute their reservations to a possible sense of unease at having that point of view at all, but this may well just arise from my own attitude on the subject. Whatever the case, I have experienced nothing approaching aggression nor any outright rudeness at all.
Our method is to drop a plastic carry-bag printed with the name of the Charity through the door of individual houses, together with a polite note to the effect that we will be calling again in a week to collect any donation the receiver would like to make. When we call for the second time, a glance at the badge we wear to denote our particular organisation is usually enough to evoke the response - the silent head-shake, a bewildered expression of ignorance, often followed by a delving in the pocket for a donation anyway, or in the worst case, a silent, expressionless shutting of the door.
Others respond not with the bag, but with a regretful half-smile at a small donation, invested, though they might not know it, with all the glory of the widow's mite mentioned in scripture.
Then there are those who cheerfully produce our bag, with the donation enclosed.
Smiles all round, on our part, at almost every transaction. From myself, on behalf of those who will benefit, a grateful thanks. A modest smile from the donor. Everyone happy.
Is this, as some would have it, the palliative devised by fortunate 'haves' to quieten their conscience regarding the less fortunate 'have nots'? I would say, without hesitation, a definite "No!". The Church for whom we few collectors operate is not in what would be considered a wealthy part of town. No-one appears to suffer from any obvious effects of poverty, but neither does anyone vaunt the visual attributes of wealth. Some of those who open the doors are discomfited by being unable to give. A small minority shook their heads, a few in embarrassed disapproval, most of them apologetically. The great majority contribute willingly, with a smile, even if their carry-bag contains just a token of their sympathetic willingness. It is a moment of shared humanity. Warm with the truth of something far deeper than the economics of circumstance. The Bible expresses it clearly: "It is more blessed to give than to receive."
Our method is to drop a plastic carry-bag printed with the name of the Charity through the door of individual houses, together with a polite note to the effect that we will be calling again in a week to collect any donation the receiver would like to make. When we call for the second time, a glance at the badge we wear to denote our particular organisation is usually enough to evoke the response - the silent head-shake, a bewildered expression of ignorance, often followed by a delving in the pocket for a donation anyway, or in the worst case, a silent, expressionless shutting of the door.
Others respond not with the bag, but with a regretful half-smile at a small donation, invested, though they might not know it, with all the glory of the widow's mite mentioned in scripture.
Then there are those who cheerfully produce our bag, with the donation enclosed.
Smiles all round, on our part, at almost every transaction. From myself, on behalf of those who will benefit, a grateful thanks. A modest smile from the donor. Everyone happy.
Is this, as some would have it, the palliative devised by fortunate 'haves' to quieten their conscience regarding the less fortunate 'have nots'? I would say, without hesitation, a definite "No!". The Church for whom we few collectors operate is not in what would be considered a wealthy part of town. No-one appears to suffer from any obvious effects of poverty, but neither does anyone vaunt the visual attributes of wealth. Some of those who open the doors are discomfited by being unable to give. A small minority shook their heads, a few in embarrassed disapproval, most of them apologetically. The great majority contribute willingly, with a smile, even if their carry-bag contains just a token of their sympathetic willingness. It is a moment of shared humanity. Warm with the truth of something far deeper than the economics of circumstance. The Bible expresses it clearly: "It is more blessed to give than to receive."
Thursday 8 December 2011
Home And Away In The UK
France, Britain, the United States, Italy stand united in their condemnation of a despot over his people. This, of course, has happened before. But then it was suspected - sometimes proven - that such aroused sympathy was a ploy to gain power, or at least significant influence, in return for assistance.
This time, the support has been practical, in the form of fighter bombers in the air, avoiding civilian causalities, even to the extent of last-minute aborting of strike missions when civilians were observed on the ground in the target area, sometimes due to unforeseen circumstances, sometimes by the callously deliberate deployment of civilians by Qaddafi as 'human shields'.
In addition, the motives of those nations assisting the so-called rebels in Libya were demonstrating free from any desire to gain control on the ground. They defined their own parameters, avoiding the use of ground forces, concentrating solely on their role as back-up for the anti-government majorities striving to free themselves of oppressive dictatorships.
As a result of this obvious earnest of good intentions, oppressed majorities in other nations have grasped the opportunity to plead their own cause, hoping for similar support. Suddenly the mechanics of political power have assumed a complexity very different from the past. No-one can envisage where this trend will lead, and the strain of this uncertainty is beginning to tell.
As if this was not enough to disturb the equanimity of the world as a whole, natural disasters appear to be occurring on a scale and frequency never experienced before, world-wide.
Against this backdrop, the effects of which extend in the collective subconscious of mankind all over the globe, Britain today provided a pinpoint of relief. On the 29th April 2011, Prince William Windsor married a commoner, Katherine Middleton, evidently to the huge approval not only of the general populace of the United Kingdom, but the world in general.
Here in England, the event was celebrated with an energy and enthusiasm nothing short of astonishing. All over the country Union Jacks of all sizes flutter.
A Short History of the Union Jack
The Royal Wedding
Complete Guide To Libya USA kindle ebook
Wednesday 7 December 2011
Retirement
There are those one hears about who suffer from a compulsion to be up and doing, activated by the calendar and clock to be earning money even if they don't in fact need it, by effort and application from pay day to pay day.
My feeling for such folk is one of wondering admiration but I cannot imagine myself among their number. Effort and application are worthy attributes, certainly. But my feeling is that if one has put them into operation for forty years or more in the business of getting married, raising a family, purchasing perhaps one's own dwelling, laying by, if circumstances permit, for the future, then, by the end of three-score years and five, retirement is a wonderful thing.
Retirement, that is, if you receive a pension that covers the necessary cost of living. If you have the good fortune to live in a country that accords benefits such as health care, local bus travel, and others that transfer the burdens of life's basic essentials from your back to the broader shoulders of Government, then there seems to me to be no valid reason to keep working.
To help the children get on to their feet, perhaps? A fine and worthy sentiment, but do they really need your help? The quicker they learn how to live within their means, the happier they will be thereafter. If your pension is adequate for your own reasonable comfort and security, you can always put by each month to treat your offspring and their families to treats according to your ability.
No, I see no problem, ethical or practical, to hinder the enjoyment of one's "declining years" as they are so insensitively sometimes termed. Of course, in the nature of things, general circumstances may change, causing conditions to arise that affect the normal course of life, in which case you, as a grandparent, will wish to assist those affected to the limit of your means.
That situation changes everything, and it could be argued that his occurs so often during a lifetime that an emergency reserve should be factored in to the regular cost of living.
So, just as a general principle then, it still seems to me that those who have served their country and community for most of their adult life, raised a family to the point of their being able to fend for themselves, deserve to enjoy their autumn years doing those things they always wanted to but never had the time - or just, with a clear conscience, to take things easy. That's the theory anyway. But if you want to keep working in a job, for whatever reason and it's not too much for you - why not?
How to Retire Happy, Wild, and Free (USA)
Brilliant Retirement (UK)
By guest blogger: Brian Murgatroyd
My feeling for such folk is one of wondering admiration but I cannot imagine myself among their number. Effort and application are worthy attributes, certainly. But my feeling is that if one has put them into operation for forty years or more in the business of getting married, raising a family, purchasing perhaps one's own dwelling, laying by, if circumstances permit, for the future, then, by the end of three-score years and five, retirement is a wonderful thing.
Retirement, that is, if you receive a pension that covers the necessary cost of living. If you have the good fortune to live in a country that accords benefits such as health care, local bus travel, and others that transfer the burdens of life's basic essentials from your back to the broader shoulders of Government, then there seems to me to be no valid reason to keep working.
To help the children get on to their feet, perhaps? A fine and worthy sentiment, but do they really need your help? The quicker they learn how to live within their means, the happier they will be thereafter. If your pension is adequate for your own reasonable comfort and security, you can always put by each month to treat your offspring and their families to treats according to your ability.
That situation changes everything, and it could be argued that his occurs so often during a lifetime that an emergency reserve should be factored in to the regular cost of living.
So, just as a general principle then, it still seems to me that those who have served their country and community for most of their adult life, raised a family to the point of their being able to fend for themselves, deserve to enjoy their autumn years doing those things they always wanted to but never had the time - or just, with a clear conscience, to take things easy. That's the theory anyway. But if you want to keep working in a job, for whatever reason and it's not too much for you - why not?
How to Retire Happy, Wild, and Free (USA)
Brilliant Retirement (UK)
By guest blogger: Brian Murgatroyd
Tuesday 6 December 2011
Family Get-together : Weymouth Caravan Park, Dorset
Friday, end-of-term, the nation - or that part of it that still has children at school - considers a holiday in celebration of what is left of summer. Our family, the English sector, plans a get-together over the week-end, at Weymouth, in Dorset.
Our own sub-sector, Doreen's and mine, has fragmented somewhat, with Louise in Zimbabwe with husband Andy and three children, sole representatives in Africa of our connection to that continent. Our fourth born in El Salvador, married to a lovely El Salvadoran, with one daughter, whose acquaintance we have yet to make.
Gale Money, Doreen's sister, with her family around her, intact - her second born with his wife and blonde, blue-eyed daughter Julie; her youngest son Michael and wife with their two children and lastly, her daughter and husband with their two children. All the children are roughly the same age.
Missing are the offspring of my brother-in-law who sadly passed away a few years back. They too, are now all in the UK. His wife - teaching in Scotland and two of her children, also teaching, while the third family member is married and in the USA.
Of our offspring, the ones in the UK, two daughters, one of whom is married are with us. Two children round off that family. Our fifth-born was working, and unable to get away. Our youngest daughter, the oldest of her generation with us, the link between grown-ups and jungfrau. Curiously, now that I have used, or misused - that word, how strong the German element is in this wider family.
Two, from South Africa, have had experience in Namibia as well, though they come from German backgrounds. Our El Salvadoran daughter-in-law's father's admirable attributes were no doubt as a result of his German national character which has contributed so much to humanity and will make itself felt in the ongoing history of our wider family.
One becomes tired of remarking how beautiful this country is. Trite as the observation is, though, it would seem ungrateful, ungracious, almost criminally churlish, not to record the deep appreciation we all felt at just the parts of it we saw from the road and the campsite. Some stretches of the road ran through thick Robin Hood forest, dark, secretive, where very little sunlight penetrated the roof of thickly-leaved branches lifted high by straight, stout pillars of tree-trunks only yards apart in every direction.
I'm not sure how many species of wild-life inhabit such a daunting environment. I imagine human occupation would produce a pygmy species, probably mobile, living off the creatures and the produce of the forest, making small attempt to transform their habitat by permanent improvement, adapting themselves more by a process of blending rather than competing.
In contrast are the gently billowing downs, that may have been tree-covered once, but now are cleared and either under cultivation, geometrically precise, straight-striped fields of crops of even height, and colour - shades of vibrant green, warm gold or soft brown, the shades of growth, maturity, fulfillment, satisfaction. And by the coast, the sea, calm, unending to a far, far distant horizon.
100 favourite camping sites
By guest blogger: Brian Murgatroyd
Gale Money, Doreen's sister, with her family around her, intact - her second born with his wife and blonde, blue-eyed daughter Julie; her youngest son Michael and wife with their two children and lastly, her daughter and husband with their two children. All the children are roughly the same age.
Missing are the offspring of my brother-in-law who sadly passed away a few years back. They too, are now all in the UK. His wife - teaching in Scotland and two of her children, also teaching, while the third family member is married and in the USA.
Of our offspring, the ones in the UK, two daughters, one of whom is married are with us. Two children round off that family. Our fifth-born was working, and unable to get away. Our youngest daughter, the oldest of her generation with us, the link between grown-ups and jungfrau. Curiously, now that I have used, or misused - that word, how strong the German element is in this wider family.
Two, from South Africa, have had experience in Namibia as well, though they come from German backgrounds. Our El Salvadoran daughter-in-law's father's admirable attributes were no doubt as a result of his German national character which has contributed so much to humanity and will make itself felt in the ongoing history of our wider family.
One becomes tired of remarking how beautiful this country is. Trite as the observation is, though, it would seem ungrateful, ungracious, almost criminally churlish, not to record the deep appreciation we all felt at just the parts of it we saw from the road and the campsite. Some stretches of the road ran through thick Robin Hood forest, dark, secretive, where very little sunlight penetrated the roof of thickly-leaved branches lifted high by straight, stout pillars of tree-trunks only yards apart in every direction.
I'm not sure how many species of wild-life inhabit such a daunting environment. I imagine human occupation would produce a pygmy species, probably mobile, living off the creatures and the produce of the forest, making small attempt to transform their habitat by permanent improvement, adapting themselves more by a process of blending rather than competing.
In contrast are the gently billowing downs, that may have been tree-covered once, but now are cleared and either under cultivation, geometrically precise, straight-striped fields of crops of even height, and colour - shades of vibrant green, warm gold or soft brown, the shades of growth, maturity, fulfillment, satisfaction. And by the coast, the sea, calm, unending to a far, far distant horizon.
100 favourite camping sites
By guest blogger: Brian Murgatroyd
Thursday 1 December 2011
Zeus And Me
He has the placid self-confidence of a heavyweight, who knows that he does not have to prove himself but will not hesitate to do so if the need arises. He would rather, far rather, make friends than fight, but woe betide the dog that dares to challenge him, for Zeus reacts to aggression with an instant response literally too quick for the eye to follow.
Which is frightening, and also problematic. He will approach a strange dog with careful interest, intent on making their acquaintance. The difficulty is that his bull neck and heavy shoulders cause the stranger understandable concern and if he takes the trouble to approach them directly, their alarm might take the form of a nervous, warning growl.
I have only seen this happen once. The growl was cut off almost as soon as it started. Zeus had the stranger by the side of the neck and on the ground in a single blur of energy that tool both the other dog and myself totally by surprise. But Zeus's intention, fortunately, was benign. He simply pinned the dog down and held him there.
At the other end of Zeus's chain, I had been jerked forward, off balance, my only thought being to prevent instant slaughter. I had felt the force of Zeus's rapid sideways tugs, the power of those neck muscles wrenching rapidly from side to side, in many a tug-of-war contest with him in which I was barely able to hold my own at the end of a rope, and I knew no flesh and blood could possibly survive such an onslaught.
I doubt my panic-stricken commands to him to 'drop it' had any effect at all, if they were even heard by him, but Zeus simply held the dog fast, firmly pinned to the ground, and after a few seconds released his grip.
The dog leaped up, turned and bolted. It was the only time I have seen Zeus in action. I was chilled with shock and thoughts of what could so easily have happened, but the other dog, thoroughly chastened, stopped some distance off, in an attitude of total submission, and the owner marvelled admiringly at Zeus's performance.
For his part, job done, Zeus stood panting, looking at his opponent, at me, at everyone else, with a calm "what's all the fuss about" expression, ready for whatever else was required of him.
by guest blogger: Brian Murgatroyd
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