'It is not good for man to be alone'

Dave and I are currently doing a marriage course with an organisation called Family Life. Every two weeks or so we go together some material in a book called 'Together'. It has been such a wonderfully helpful and life-affirming experience for us - I highly recommend this to any couples who are looking to build on their marriage, which really is an art!

Last night we had a catch up session with our two amazing leaders. It was one of the best evenings I have had for such a long time. We were able to be honest, trade stories, find wisdom, laugh and seek God together in such an authentic way. We were so blessed by this time.

The topic we worked on was unity in marriage and how to deepen our sense of oneness. As part of the session we looked at Genesis 2:18-25 and God's introduction of Eve into Adam's world.

The Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.” 

Now the Lord God had formed out of the ground all the wild animals and all the birds in the sky. He brought them to the man to see what he would name them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name. So the man gave names to all the livestock, the birds in the sky and all the wild animals. 

But for Adam no suitable helper was found. So the Lord God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs and then closed up the place with flesh. Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man. 

The man said,

“This is now bone of my bones
    and flesh of my flesh;
she shall be called ‘woman,’
    for she was taken out of man.”

That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh. 

Adam and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.

(As an aside, the feminist in me would like to point out a couple of things we learned and discussed before I go on. The Hebrew for 'helper' translates to 'opposite against', an equal who supports the man who needs help. 'Suitable' means 'being like another', matching him and complementary. So the term 'helper' isn't a term to indicate inferiority. The same term is used of the Holy Spirit on occasion. Just wanted to get that out of the way.)

I was really struck by God's reflection, "It is not good for the man to be alone."

We wondered, was Adam happy? Was he lonely? In original creation, before sin and ruin and any sense of the world being broken, when Adam was in perfect unity with the world and God, it is hard to imagine that Adam was deeply discontent or unhappy.

Arguably, Adam wouldn't have known anything else. He wouldn't have known what it was like to not be alone, in charge of the animals with no 'helper suitable for him'. He would have been content in a perfect relationship with and trust in God.

Yet God declares that things are not good, it isn't good for Adam to be alone. God knows Adam better than he knows himself. He knows that he needs someone else.

What struck me beyond all this was that God acknowledges that living with God and without people isn't enough. We are made for relationship with each other. It isn't enough to just be in relationship with God, we must be relating to other people.

But the truth seems to go even further than this - this isn't just true for us, in a world overpopulating and teeming with people to relate to. It was true for Adam, in perfect creation, at peace with himself, the universe and his maker.

People need other people.

When I was younger, and now in my more melancholy moments, I used to think that being a hermit and being at one with God would be enough. That it would be better for me to be alone - it would be a lot less messy and less harmful for other people. As long as I could be with God, in a good, fully open, submitted relationship with him, then that would be enough.

I was challenged by the study last night. Because I realised that God doesn't want that. It wasn't part of His original design. God wants us to be in union with other people. We are not supposed to be alone, no matter how much we are satisfied by Him.

God made us to need Him and to need each other.

And God knows us far better than we know ourselves.

The importance of being earnest

I was having lunch with an amazing lady I know from church this afternoon. We talked a bit about Christmas preparations, Christmas cards, presents, and so on. I mentioned that we liked to write proper messages in all our Christmas cards, rather than the usual "Dear x", "From y" drill.

It got me thinking about honesty. The reason I still write Christmas cards, and cards in general, is that it gives me a chance to do something which I wish I could do more in everyday life - to be honest in telling the person how important they are and how much they mean to me. To be able to thank them and tell them I love them.  Things that we would struggle to say face to face because of social convention or awkwardness. Things that are very true but that we often leave unsaid, to our and others' disadvantage.

When I was sending this lady an email afterwards to thank her for how wonderful she was, I was struck again by how important I think this is. I wish I did it more and more fully. I wish I could be more honest and authentic in the everyday rhythms of my life.

I think for some people, this can be the difference between life and real life. Encouragement is so rare in this unpredictable, uncertain world, full of tragedies and blips. Things are so complicated and the good can be so hard to hold onto.

Dave and I had an argument yesterday. In the course of it he said, "Why didn't you tell me this a week ago? Have you been feeling this way all this time? Why didn't you just tell me about it then?"

Reflecting on this now, I wish I was more honest. I should have been honest about how I felt, rather than keeping it inside, only to ruin. It would have been a step towards overcoming a problem. As in the case of 'thank you's and 'I love you's, I should have been honest in this situation of conflict and misunderstanding. I was afraid it would tear down, but it would have built up.

I guess there is a reason why honesty is disarming. Why the truth can be so affirming and life-giving. Why being authentic is something that most of us strive towards.

So here's to being honest and authentic.

Grief

Grieving is a strange process. Till very recently, I wasn't able to write anything about Ralph because I just didn't have the words. Everything was images and a big ball of memories and emotions that just wouldn't fit into letters and numbers, no matter how hard I tried.

Grief is funny. Some days I am fine and I feel nothing. I am able to go about my day, immune to Ralph's absence, thinking about him without heaviness of feeling. Accepting and living. Other days my mental space is full of Ralph, flooded with memories and ache and loss, and the etetnal ball in my stomach feels sore and raw, leaking tears and longing. There is no warning, no preparation for which times come when. I have to accept that I don't know when I will be 'over it'. When missing my baby will take over from missing my baby. Words fall short.

There is no cure for a hole in your heart and a hole in your life. No matter how many tears I cry, thoughts I conjure and words I say or write, our Ralph is dead. Nothing can bring him back.

All this has got me thinking about how some experiences bind us. Love is one of them. Death is another. I have found that grief is a leveller. Most people have felt it. Most people understand. Most people know what it feels like to have no solution to the black hole and all the things in your life that remind you of it, all the things you just have to learn to live with, until the cup fills up again and time rolls forward.

You grieve in proportion to the degree that you love. And nothing in the world could have made me love Ralph any less. Until a few weeks ago I don't think I had lost someone so close to me. I have lost all my grandparents but I regret to say that I was not that close to them. Not in this way. They were not part of my life like Ralph was. He was part of everything and in everything. Adjusting to life without him feels like starting again.

And I understand grief in a way that I hadn't before now.

Lazarus

When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.

“Where have you laid him?” he asked.

“Come and see, Lord,” they replied.

Jesus wept.

Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”

But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance.

“Take away the stone,” he said.

“But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.

Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said,“Father, I thank you that you have heard me.  I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” 

The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.

Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”

- John 11.32-44

Goodbye Ralph.

This morning we scattered some of Ralph's ashes at a field on a familar walk in Chalfont St Giles that Ralph loved. We wanted to remember, celebrate and say goodbye to our baby Ralph. We wanted the send off to be full of life, just as our Ralph was till the very end.

Words will never express how much Dave and I loved Ralph. He wasn't just a dog but our baby, our family. Our lives aren't the same without him. We miss you, Ralph.

Ralph taught us more than we ever taught him. He wasn't a perfect, obedient dog. He was strong-willed, full of energy, and he knew what he wanted. We loved his sense of fun and mischief. He was amazingly clever and resourceful. He could open doors, find lost treasure, and read our minds sometimes. He was cuddly and sweet at times and independent and introverted at others. He was full of character, full of joy and life. 

Ralph loved everything about life. He loved being outside and especially loved the grass and rubbing himself in it. He loved people and other dogs. Every day was a new adventure for Ralph. It was inspiring, uplifting and humbling for us. Personally, Ralph was full of an unbridled joy and love of life that I so often lacked. Nothing phased him - no dog bites or injuries ever made him flinch. He was an anchor for me sometimes. We were so proud of our Ralph.

We are devastated that Ralph, who was only 2 and loved life so much, is now gone, that his life has been cut short. Ralph was doing what he loved most when tragedy struck, playing with his great friend Mishka, exploring and smelling his way around the world, running free. He was happy till the end. He lived a happy life. 

We feel so blessed for the time we had with Ralph, all the memories and stories and lessons we learned. We were blessed to have had him in our lives. Thank you, Ralph. We love you, we miss you, and we say goodbye to you. We will never forget you, and we will always love you. 

-----

Thank you, God, for our Ralph.

Thank you for the joy he brought us, the lessons he taught us and the time he had with us.

We feel it was far too short, but every day of our adventure with Ralph was such a blessing, and every blessing - every good thing - comes from You.

Thank you for the gift of Ralph, our furry and enthusiastic little friend and companion.

Thank you, God, for our Ralph.

Amen. 

 

Borrowed words

"Lately, he thought a lot about the story Father had told them the night before the trip to Kabul, the old peasant Baba Ayub and the div. Abdullah would find himself on a spot where Pari had once stood, her absence like a smell pushing up from the earth beneath his feet, and his legs would buckle, and his heart would collapse in on itself, and he would long for a swig of the magic potion the div had given Baba Ayub so he too could forget.

But there was no forgetting. Pari hovered, unbidden, at the edge of Abdullah's vision everywhere he went. She was like the dust that clung to his shirt. She was in the silences that had become so frequent at the house, silences that welled up between their words, sometimes cold and hollow, sometimes pregnant with things that went unsaid, like a cloud filled with rain that never fell. Some nights he dreamed that he was in the desert again, alone, surrounded by the mountains, and in the distance a single tiny glint of light flickering on, off, on, off, like a message.

He opened the tea box. They were all there, Pari's feathers, shed from roosters, ducks, pigeons; the peacock feather too. He tossed the yellow feather into the box. One day, he thought.

Hoped."

- 'And the Mountains Echoed', Khaled Hosseini

Memorial

There was a time
When I felt the dust
Your boots kicked up on my skin
And Your voice sang in me
Like a whisper.
But now you hide
Behind dim rooftops and the noise
Inside
And your face is one of many.
There was a time
When Your words were echoes
Of my scribbles in the silence
And my tears fell on Your fingers
Caught and bottled by You.
No more now,
When the rain and the sun soak through me
Drowning out your songs.
I used to see Your blood
In every leaf and tree,
Every smile of a stranger
Shadowing the scream of another,
I smelled Your scent in mine
Back when I loved You.
Now your blood fades into the red
Of lipstick, scars and short dresses,
Wars and wounds worlds away
From nails and sacrifice.
Now you slip through the sand
Of a love with no name
But my own,
A memorial of who I was when
I was Yours.

Living vs. existing

Lightbulb moments are few and far between for me these days. I guess I should be grateful for this one, though it was in truth not just sobering but a deeply unpleasant realisation. 

In a training session today, my colleagues and I were encouraged to brainstorm what we would need to live and not just exist. Our trainer turned over a page on a big flip chart with her pen poised to receive ideas. Within a second - not an exaggeration - a chorus of voices chanted, "Money." It was immediate. Apparently a no-brainer. Little conversations started around me about how important money was, chuckles and eye rolling indicating that everyone needed more money. "So, enough money, then?" our trainer said, writing 'Enough money' down on the flip chart. People laughed. "I never have enough money," was the general bantery consensus, the oh-so-obvious agreement between the group. I was speechless. I had wanted to say 'Purpose' and felt wrong-footed, incredulous.

Within the next few seconds a flurry of responses compounded my feeling. Sleep seemed to be a major contender in the living-not-existing hierarchy of needs. Food was another one. I was relieved when the masses agreed on love, family, friends and social life. Surely relationships are vital in living and not merely existing. But then clothes and make up went on the list. Cigarettes and alcohol followed shortly. When I eventually offered 'purpose' to the trainer, she enthusiastically wrote 'Purpose and occupation' on the board to the tune of a silent and distracted majority. Not necessary to live and not just exist, so it seemed to my contemporaries.

I thought, maybe people are missing something here. Maybe they've misunderstood the question, and instead they're thinking, 'What do we need to exist and survive?' Though then I'd be hard pressed to understand why clothes and make up are necessary. No. I think they were responding to the same question I was.

I have to be honest. It's been a while since I felt how I did this afternoon. The sense of isolation and incredulity that I used to feel when I was in high school, trying to relate to my classmates who would brush away my musings and repeat, "Melanie, you're so deep," or "You think so/too much." I felt wholly different and separate, I couldn't relate to these people who were meant to be my peers. I was taken aback. I felt like they were a different species, to be honest. 

Thus the lightbulb moment, the humbling and sobering realisation. I am not one of them. No matter how hard I try to fit in or understand, how hard I kid myself into believing that I find Christians and churches too churchy and insular, that I'm more at ease with 'the real world' and 'normal people', that I can have a laugh and a joke and fit into their ways of thinking. I am not like them. No matter how hard I try to fit in, I will never be able to honestly accept in the depths of my being that the meaning of life is nothing more than money, clothes, make up, and alcohol. I will never be 'of the world', for as long as I am 'in' it. I will always be sitting there in brainstorming sessions like today's, thinking incredulously, "Purpose, anyone? Legacy? Contributing to society and making a difference to someone other than yourself, for something greater and higher than yourself? No? Okay. Never mind then."   

I realised that I had forgotten this a bit. Taken it for granted. Thought that I was part of this society, this world made up of people who think this way. But I am not. We who have met God an chosen to follow Jesus' footsteps will always be different, marked out, called to and driven by something else. At the end of the day, there's no getting around it.

I have a confession to make. I felt judgmental initially. But in the end, what I feel most is sadness. It makes me sad that some people honestly think that clothes and make up are what makes life worth living. It depresses me that when it comes to the crunch, they think that is what makes them get up in the morning. Those things wouldn't get me through half a day. I feel despair at the ways that lots of people in my generation think, where self-fulfilment is the only lasting motivation. The inevitable consequences of commercialism and a lack of a sense of belonging to something greater than yourself. I couldn't do it. I couldn't live my whole life purely for money, clothes, make up and booze. Could you?

So, all this to say, today I was hit with this realisation: You are different. You're meant to be. Don't kid yourself. You're a Christian. Own it.

The image of God

I have learned a lot about the image of God in my first month as a care assistant for the elderly. Most of the residents suffer from Dementia and are in varying stages of deteroriation. I remember helping to feed some of the residents on my first day, and thinking about what being alive means and what it means to have the image of God. Some of our residents are immobile and don't have the ability to communicate. They are made comfortably in recliner chairs. I remember thinking about how they appeared catatonic, or in a sort of coma. But they had all the bodily functions, and could eat, drink and swallow. They were still very much alive, even though they appeared not to have any mental capacity left.

It made me think about how a human being is still alive after many of the things that we equate with quality of life have left. The ability to speak, to make relationships, to enjoy hobbies, to express one's hopes and dreams. A person stays alive when all of these things that we traditionally equate with personhood fade away. The image of God that is within them - eternal, everlasting - can never be diminished, no matter how much the person is reduced by sickness and old age.

I learned fairly quickly the importance of treating the residents as people with all the glory and worth that they ever had. Everyone has this because of what God has put inside them. So I learned to talk to these residents as though they can hear, as though the characteristics that are so evident in the photos on their bedroom walls, the details of their histories, and stories about how they used to be, are just as evident as they ever were.

A simple but powerful thing.

I see the image of God in people being forgotten here sometimes. All the residents had hopes and dreams and great and ordinary lives. Like you and me. Easy to forget when someone can't hold a conversation and forgets how to walk. But not so easy to forget when you look into their eyes and see the same thing that we all want at the end of the day - to be respected for the light that God has put in each and every one of us. The light that can never be put out.

The fragility of life

On Monday, I started a new job as a care assistant at a care home for the elderly. It has been an exhausting week learning new procedures, faces and names, and realising anew the privilege of being a carer and being part of such a vulnerable and intimate time in individuals' lives.

Today, I also had my first 'episode' in what feels like a very long time. It had been such a long period of stability and contentment that I had wondered whether depression was a distant memory. During these 'episodes', all my thoughts and emotions scramble together like a sudden attack, a chaotic mess of disjointed painful noises overlapping in my mind. I am left wracked and unable to figure out what to do. Lost and alone. Then I come out of it, and have to figure out where to go from there. How to pick myself up again.

The numbness is subsiding as I write. I am now struck by the fragility of life. We go out of our way to ignore it, to pretend it's not there. To go through the motions of life, managing well, self-sufficient and successful. I think it works for the most part. And then something hits. Setbacks. Illness, death, pain. Something happens to throw everything out of kilter, and we realise again that the walls we construct around us are made less of sturdy brick but more of panes of glass, glued together to the best of our abilities, but so easily shattered and torn down by the storms of life. Human beings are so fragile. Our lives are so breakable. I am seeing this more and more every day, especially since returning to nursing and care. I am learning to accept this more and more in myself. Everything could change from one day to the next.

Life is a strange thing. We could lose everything in an instant. Yet we believe and act as though what we have and who we are stands forever. That we are infinite, invincible. An illusion easy to live by.

Many of you will know the Serenity Prayer, famously adopted by Alcoholics Anonymous. The original Serenity Prayer is attributed to theologian Reinhold Niebuhr. With no wisdom or conclusions to offer, I end this post with this prayer.

God, give me grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.
Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next.
Amen.

"A prophet without honour"

I approached a man I guessed was from Hong Kong while working on the stand yesterday. As usual, I asked whether he had time to hear more about Toybox and our work. Instead of answering my question, he asked me where I was from.

"Hong Kong," I said.

"Are you studying?" he asked.

"No. I work here."

"You work here?" he cried. He tutted. "Let me tell you something." He moved the flyer I had give him away. "Don't sell to me, I don't like people selling to me."

Then he proceeded to dole out lengthy advice on what I should be doing with my life and career for about 5 minutes before leaving the stand abruptly.

It was incredibly rude and pretty judgemental. I have to say I was quite affected by it. The crux of what this guy said to me was that I should be doing a PhD in the university degree I got, then going into research and becoming a specialist. "Then one day, when you are a specialist and people ask you for advice and expertise, God will use you."

Sadly, I have heard this all before. It's nothing new, and I have received this spiel from so many people from my hometown - many of whom have virtually been strangers to me, who have seen fit to weigh in to my life and tell me that everything I have done is wrong. But I rarely get it in such an explicit way from someone from.Hong Kong who claims to be a Christian.

I don't know why so many people from Hong Kong seem to love telling me what to do with my life. That what I am doing is wrong. That I should be pursuing an affluent lifestyle, a lucrative career, or academic prestige and credentials.  I am not doing these things and I really believe in the path I have chosen. I don't doubt myself when harangued by these views. But it just gets annoying and very old.

Never mind that these mindsets are counter-gospel, but what I don't understand is where people find the presumption to give someone they don't know this kind of arrogant judgement on their life choices.  I don't know whether this occurs as much in other cultures.

If I'm completely honest, sometimes I am apprehensive about meeting people from Hong Kong here in the UK. I expect this kind of unwelcome judgement from them, this scorn of my choices to try and live in solidarity with the poor and needy, to live out of the love of Jesus. Sadly this happens too often for me to feel like this anxiety is unfounded.

It's the reason why I don't like going home. Who likes feeling like they are looked down on all the time? I am proud of my choices though. I am not ashamed of Jesus. As I said, it just gets old and wearisome.

I was reflecting on Jesus' words, "A prophet is not without honour except in his own town and in his own home." Maybe this is just the way it is. It certainly has always been for me.

I listened to an interview on the radio a while ago with a Pakistani lady who recently immigrated to the UK. She said that she actually preferred living here, even if she couldn't speak English well and didn't have much involvement in the community. She said that her neighbours were kind and warm to her. At home in Pakistan, she was looked down on and gossiped about. Here, she wasn't judged and under pressure to conform to the standards they imposed. She didn't like being with other Pakistani women there.

I really resonated with what this lady said. I know it sounds awful, to say you would rather not be with your own kin. That you are anxious about being with people of your ethnicity. I don't know if anyone else will understand this, but it is how I have felt for a long time.

And I think that Jesus understands it. I hope and pray he does, anyway.

Teaching, ignorance and stigma

I went to a session this morning on emotions and how we should deal with them as Christians. Although the talk was good in parts and the speaker was obviously a really nice man, some of it made me feel very frustrated, sad and worried.

I'd just like to say first that I am glad New Word Alive have decided to put in a sermon series on emotion. Emotion is an issue that has been neglected in many evangelical circles and it is great that the New Word Alive leadership have decided to give this issue an airing. The importance of and hunger for teaching on emotion is obviously at the forefront of people's minds, as the venue for this session yesterday couldn't accommodate everyone who was interested and we had to move into a larger theatre today.

The speaker was obviously a man who loved Jesus deeply and wanted to live a godly life. I want to make clear that I am not trying to disrespect him.

What I want to do is draw attention to some things I found worrying about his talk, and some beliefs that I feel are counterproductive and dangerous.

"I dont know much about psychology"

I approached the speaker after his talk to feed back some of my concerns. I thanked him for his talk and for how he had shared. I said I had worked with acutely mentally ill people, and that although what he had said might be relevant to many people without mental health issues or emotional disorders, I didn't think what he said was true of those with mental illness. For them, emotions were not just a matter of "heart values" which they could control using their will and self-control. And their origin wasn't primarily in their "heart values" but a range of complex genetic and social factors.

He was polite and gracious. He said, "I don't know much about psychology." He told me he thought there may be original feelings that sparked everything else up in mental illness, and these feelings were rooted in heart values. And they could try and deal with these in the ways that he'd outlined - that is, to evaluate your heart values and try and love the right things, based in scriptural truth.

What this speaker said really disturbs me. I worry because it is not based on research and well-established psychological insights, but just based on what he thought might be true. This man has written a book on emotions and claims to be an expert in this area - but he doesn't know about key psychological evidence and practice.

This is extremely worrying. In that room there were hundreds of people listening to his teaching. Although he had claimed that the area of emotions is very complicated and muddy, he did put forward his approach as a universal one. He didn't make a disclaimer that this wasn't appropriate for people with mental health issues, which is dangerous, given that, as he confessed he doesn't know much about psychology.

To be honest, I am pretty appalled by this. I don't think it's unreasonable to expect that someone speaking with authority on a certain issue would have done in depth research about that issue, and would actually be teaching true, solid and evidence-based information. I understand that he was trying to base it all on the Bible, but the Bible doesn't tell us how to deal with mental illness. Like many other issues, we have to figure it out using discernment and wisdom.

I don't know in what other sector it would be acceptable for an expert speaker to say outright that they didn't know much about the issue they were talking about, and to still have their opinion treated with the sort of authority speakers have here.

"I'm not an expert on phobias... I'm not keen on people going to expert counsellors"

I was really disappointed - and frankly, quite angry - by one bit of the talk in particular. The speaker mentioned phobias. "I'm not an expert on phobias," he said. "In certain situations, it might be good for someone struggling with a phobia to go and talk to a counsellor. But I'm not keen on people going to expert counsellors, as I think we should deal with things within the church. The reason why it might be good for some people to go to an expert counsellor is because they know what kind of questions to ask to help people understand what values are driving them."

Huge alarm bells went off in my head when he said this. First of all, he offered advice about phobias - a serious mental health issue that needs expert care and management - while at the same time professing to not know much about them. If I offered you medical advice about a chronic heart condition,  then said I wasn't an expert on chronic heart conditions, would you accept that? Would that be worth listening to?

Would that be responsible if I were a massively respected teacher and speaker, being heard by hundreds?

The other thing that disturbed me was this notion of keeping things inside the church; . I confess that I was angered, having encountered lots of resistance within certain Christian circles to counselling and emotional support in the past. If you are struggling with a serious mental health issue (like a phobia), you need help from a qualified professional. It is not appropriate to go to a church leadership team, who are not qualified to give specialist help to people struggling with mental health issues.

Again, a medical analogy. If you have a broken leg, is it appropriate to go to your church leadership team to help you recover? No. You go to a doctor.

It's a no-brainer.

So why do speakers like the one I heard today openly say they are not keen on people going "outside the church" to see expert counsellors, including people with mental disorders like phobias? Why is this ignorance about mental health so prevalent in churches?

Ignorance and stigma

Like I said before, I honestly think that the speaker was a nice guy. I got the sense that he genuinely doesn't know much about mental illness and mental health. He genuinely thinks that with the help of God, Christians should be able to control their emotions by making sure they have the "right heart" and "love the right things"- primarily, salvation, Scripture and God.

But the whole situation saddens and angers me. Because as Christians, as the Church, we should be at the forefront of standing up for truth and fighting against stigma when it comes to mental health. But instead, ignorant beliefs about mental health abound within Christian communities.

The speaker claimed that emotions originate from our "heart values"- that if we have the right values and perspective, that we desire godly things, our emotions will be right and godly. He said at one point that they are ultimately our responsibility and can be controlled by our will. Although there are influencing factors, like our upbringing and our health, the origin of our emotions is our heart.

Beliefs like these are out of touch with solid evidence and psychological research that has been accumulated over the past decades. In cases of mental illness, this kind of explanation is just circumspect. And it is loosely extrapolated from Scripture - the Bible doesn't offer a theory of emotions, just metaphors and descriptions of. So much research has been done into the origin of emotions and mental health issues, which the speaker just doesn't take into account at all.

Not only are the beliefs based on ignorance, but they also feed stigma. The notion that our emotions can be controlled by our will in this way is hugely simplistic. It feeds the notion that "bad, ungodly emotions" are our fault. And this is plainly untrue for mentally ill people. They can't control their episodes by will. Their conditions don't have anything to do with their moral goodness or their acceptance of God's salvation. They are ill, and it isn't their fault. They can't control it in this way, even if they are faithful Christians.

People are mentally ill not because they are weak or at fault or can't snap out of their wrong emotions. To preach these kinds of stigmatising, ignorant things is unworthy of the gospel.

Christians need to be the best at what we do

A church leader can't be expected to be an expert in psychology and mental health if they have not been trained and qualified in this field. This goes without saying. So they shouldn't claim expertise in this issue and go on to give guidance that affects 1 in 4 people struggling with mental illness. It's inappropriate and highly dangerous. It can destroy lives.

So why shouldn't churches work with counsellors and mental health professionals "outside the church"? They are trained, qualified and are in the best position to give people the help they need. And there are committed Jesus-followers who work in these fields. We should be working together.

Dave said some wise words to me a while ago. He said that as Christians, we should be the best at whatever we do. If you're a teacher, you should be the best teacher in your school. If you're a nurse, you should be the most caring and effective nurse in the hospital. If you're a social worker, you should be the most compassionate, well-informed person in the sector.

We are doing what we do for the Lord.

So we need to be at the forefront of advances and discoveries in every field in which we work. Christians are everywhere, and we need to do what we do well.

This is partly why this talk made me feel so frustrated and sad. Because it was so symptomatic of churches' lax engagement with important discoveries in "secular" culture. Discoveries that really benefit humanity and would help us in our mission to bring the Kingdom of God to earth.

As followers of Jesus, we really need to stand for truth, justice, and love. If we don't, then what hope is there for the world? 

Denying Christ

Today is my second day at New Word Alive. I am here with Toybox and have been working shifts on our stand, trying to spread the word about our work with street children. Outside the exhibition times,  we have had the chance to get some rest and attend some sessions, which has been a welcome change.

This morning, I went to a session on Mark 14 which focused on Peter's denial of Christ. There were lots of things I struggled with about the talk - whether it was reactionary or genuinely theological, I'm not sure - but the main thing that stood out to me was this question:

What would it mean for you to renounce Christ?

One of the things I struggled with about the talk was that I felt the speaker presented things in an oversimplistic way. In the gospels, Peter famously denies Christ three times. He is asked whether he knows Jesus and he lies.

But what does that look like in our lives? In our culture, where we have religious freedom and can profess to be Christians without being imprisoned or killed, we are highly unlikely to be presented with this kind of dramatic choice. We aren't often asked whether we know Jesus in the same direct way that Peter was, with the threat of persecution atnour heels. Our denials of Jesus are not as straightforward as that.

This is where I get confused. Because what actually counts as denying Christ as a Christian in the Western world?

What counts as a compromise of faith? What should we be defending? Aside from our faith in Jesus - which is generally left alone and accepted as a valid worldview in our society - what beliefs would, if rejected, count as a denial of Christ?

This is where I feel like it all comes down to interpretation. Whether it's marriage, sexuality, the church, the Bible, creation - people from all sorts of standpoints and movements will insist that denying their point of view is denying Jesus.

So how can we know what beliefs we need to defend in order to say we are not denying Christ?

The gospel is so complicated, and faith is not simple. In our culture of comfortable Christianity, I struggle to get a handle on what extreme concepts like  renouncing Jesus mean. How can we be sure we aren't denying him? What do we hold onto if we follow him? How do we know what to fight for when we are bombarded with people from all sides telling us what faithful Christians should believe?

It is clear that if faced with the question of whether or not I follow Christ, to say that I do not is a denial of Christ. But if such an explicit question doesn't come (a common occurence in our society) - what does renouncing Christ actually mean?

On what the central beliefs of Christianity are, there is more dissent than agreement. That's why I don't think oversimplistic presentations are helpful. There bring up so many more questions.

Most committed Christians want to be faithful to the God that they serve. They don't want to follow in Peter's footsteps. But sometimes, it isn't clear what choices lead to this path. It just isn't always as black and white as some people suggest.

Survival, humanity and the power of fiction

I have spent the past couple of days in slacks, underneath a duvet, sniffling and sneezing my way through a bad cold. With my husband away at a church sailing week, I have found company through my dog and my Xbox. And in particular, the episodic masterpiece of a game that is The Walking Dead, which has had me in tears more than I had imagined a zombie video game ever could.

From the perspective of my cold-ridden, home-bound isolation, it may not be so strange that I am blogging about a zombie video game. Yes, I am aware of the reputation of zombie video games for gamers and non-gamers alike. Many of them are gory, bloody and lack any sense of deeper purpose than hacking and slashing. I wouldn’t willingly play a game like this (I tried Left 4 Dead with friends, and I was pretty much closing my eyes through the whole thing - not a great way to get through the game). This is not my kind of video game, and this is definitely not what The Walking Dead is like.

The Walking Dead is a character-centred, choice-centred, point-and-click video game. It is split into 5 episodes, which are amazing cinematic feats of storytelling. I don’t think I have ever played a game which has been so powerfully and simply crafted, so compelling and true to life and human nature. (Well, true to life and human nature in the event of a zombie apocalypse.) You can play The Walking Dead like it is a movie, a TV series - except that you can take part in the direction that the story goes. But it isn’t stunted in the way that RPGs often are [To non-gamers: Role-playing games, where you play as a protagonist in a story, making choices and doing quests towards an ultimate goal]. It doesn’t have many of the traditional RPG conventions that you come to expect as a gamer, which make the experience rather confusing and exclusive for a new gamer or first time gamer. The Walking Dead feels seamless and natural. Anyone could play it and have their internal world changed. It feels as if you were really there, you were really the protagonist Lee Everett, making these choices, speaking with these people, feeling the pressure and desperation and tragedy of the situation, where you can’t really win in the battle for survival.

My hours sitting with this game made me think hard about survival, humanity and the power of fiction. Actually, The Walking Dead made me think of Cormack McCarthy’s ‘The Road’. High praise for a 21st century video game I think!

The theme of survival is a common one that's been explored in fiction. In the event of a worldwide catastrophe, how would we survive? Would we know how to go about surviving in famine, hunger, illness and scarcity?

Throw in an aggressor, a threat: an epidemic which is contagious, zombies who infect and kill. And then in addition to the battle for survival, we see how human nature would fare. Would we turn on each other? What depths would we sink to in order to survive? In the absence of laws and structures which keep order, what would happen?

The Walking Dead explores this so powerfully. You are immersed in the story, making heartrending decisions that inevitably decide the fate of other people's lives. You are confronted with difficult choices that you have to make in order to survive. Every second you have to decide how far you will go to preserve your humanity, compassion, and integrity- and what you are prepared to sacrifice to keep on living.

You see characters at their most broken. Hunger, illness, exhaustion. Paranoia and aggression. Grief and mourning. Sick and brutal murders, driven by a twisted will to live. Deaths are common but you have to soldier on in a bleak reality with few hopes to cling to.

Some things really stood out to me in this game, and correspondingly, in ‘The Road’. In both of these stories, the protagonist is taking care of a child. In The Walking Dead, the child is an 8-year-old called Clementine who has lost her parents and has no one except you. The purity and innocence of the child’s way of thinking is a lifeline. It is a real juxtaposition in the dog-eat-dog, cruel world of survival, and a real connection to the most beautiful parts of humanity that have all but gone. The relationship between the protagonist and the child in both stories is heartrending - perhaps even more so in The Walking Dead, because you are the protagonist and you are forming the relationship. I don’t want to spoil the plot of either of these stories so I won’t say more. But it isn’t just the protagonist who keeps the child alive by taking care of them physically and keeping them safe. The child keeps the protagonist alive too with the innocence that is burning inside them.

Another thing that really stood out to me is the importance of humour. I hadn’t really thought of this before, so The Walking Dead was a real eye-opener in this respect. Humour is entirely absent in ‘The Road’, which makes it all the bleaker and gives it more of a heaviness and lethargy. But in The Walking Dead, the characters who can bring humour to situations are the ones who seem to preserve more humanity, showing more compassion and respect for others. 

There is a scene in The Walking Dead where a guy called Omid makes (awesome) jokes about a bust head statue he sees in the attic where the group are trapped. His girlfriend yells at him to stop, that it isn’t the right time to be joking around. Omid eventually yells back at her. “I’m just trying to ease the tension a bit here,” he says.  He continues to do make clever and funny comments throughout.

For me, Omid was a sanity check. The humour he was able to preserve and bring to bleak situations helped me not to succumb to the hopelessness of the situation. It reminded me that we were still human, and still had the capacity for joy and laughter. It made me think of Doug Stanhope’s philosophy - that the only real weapon we have against the crappiness of the world is our ability to laugh in its face. Even more important and relevant in a destroyed and hopeless world full of tragedy, death and brutality.

There are obvious things to learn. The value of compassion, above all other things. That it is worth being compassionate, even if it means there is ‘another mouth to feed’. Even if on the face of it, it reduces your chances of survival. Because without compassion, love and care, what is the point of surviving?  What is the point of living if we don’t have the things that make us human?

In The Walking Dead, your group of survivors discover a barricaded area called Crawford where the survival of the fittest mentality is king. In an attempt to survive, the residents of Crawford form their own stringent rules and principles, casting out all those who are vulnerable and who are what they term a ‘drain on resources’. Children, the elderly, and the sick are left to fend for themselves outside Crawford, which has a monopoly on all essential supplies like food and medicine.

A young woman called Molly tells her story. “When the dead started walking and Crawford shut itself in, it seemed like a pretty good deal at first. We were safe, we had everything we needed to survive. Then the rules started coming down. No one who couldn’t justify their place, earn their keep. No one who required special care. My sister was a diabetic, and by Crawford’s rules, that made her a liability… Crawford, they always talked about how their system worked, how anything was better than becoming ‘one of them’. But I saw what they’d already become. I just wish I had seen it before it was too late. Before they came and took my sister away.” 

I think the scary thing about all of this is that I can imagine it happening. I lived through H5N1 and SARS in Hong Kong, which is maybe why all these movies and games about contagion, epidemics and apocalypse strike a chord in me. I remember sitting on empty trains, being told to stay at home, being afraid to eat with others. Empty streets and suspicious eyes behind medical masks. I remember that time of mistrust and fear. I can see how, pushed to the extreme, people would turn on each other and chase after survival, leaving all semblances of love and compassion behind.

This is the power of fiction. It helps us to see through to our core, our broken human nature. It helps us to think deeply about the things that make us human, the things that are worth fighting and dying for.

I am, as many of you know, a massive gamer. I love video games. I think a great video game is the most powerful media of them all. The Walking Dead is a prime example of this. I know we are not living in a zombie apocalypse, forced to kill for our survival. I know this is a fictional universe with a fictional premise. But the things that drive the characters are so true. They are so real. The relationships, their motivations and fears, the beliefs that hold them together - they are close to us too. And if the world were to go to hell in a handbasket today, much of what happened to them would probably happen to many of us.

So I think there is a lot that we can learn from games, books and movies like The Walking Dead. About our humanity, about what we cannot lose even if all else is lost. About the true meaning and purpose of survival.

Sometimes we need some fiction to remind us of the deeper reasons why we are alive. 

Open email - Please read!

Dear friend,

Would you take a few moments to ask your MP to read an important report about truth, lies and poverty?

Four major Christian denominations have produced a report The lies we tell ourselves: ending comfortable myths about poverty. They have sent a copy to every MP in the UK.

This report is important because it shows that common myths about poverty are demonstrably untrue - yet they underpin much thinking about poverty in the UK.  These myths have allowed vulnerable families to be blamed for their poverty, and they pollute the debate around poverty and welfare.

I believe that the issues of poverty and welfare are too important to allow myths and half-truths to influence the political debate. So I emailed my MP to ask them to make sure they read the report, and respond to its contents. 

Could you email your MP too? It only takes a couple of minutes, using this simple e-action. 

Thanks,

Mel

For more information, please check out:

Joint Public Issues - Truth and lies about poverty 

Church Action on Poverty - The blame game must stop

Cardboard testimonies

This morning we celebrated Jesus’ resurrection and victory.

God really moved in my heart today. My words fall short of how I felt. There was a great atmosphere for joy in the church but for some reason, I didn’t feel alienated and alone, like I usually do. It felt real. I felt hope and I felt the truth of the gospel shine in all the close spaces between us, brothers and sisters all, singing and dancing and clapping before God (clapping? Cheesy, I know). We had gone through the journey and tried to remember the suffering and hopelessness of Jesus’ death as the nails hung bloody on the cross. And today we were remembering the victory, the life, the hope that Jesus still has for us now. The hope - the knowledge - that he can change the world with his love. He could then and he can now.

I felt privileged to be part of a slot in the service where about a dozen of us shared what difference Jesus’ victory made in our lives. We shared our testimonies on cardboard. On one side, we wrote down what our life was like before Christ. Then we flipped the cardboard over to reveal what our life was like after finding Christ.

I had never heard of cardboard testimonies before. You can find videos of them being done in different churches, and perhaps I’ll be able to share a clip of ours sometime. It is an incredibly simple yet very powerful idea. I felt so honoured and grateful to have been a part of it, standing there with my brothers and sisters and being given the chance to bear witness to God’s grace in such a quiet but public way.

I thought that our cardboard tesimonies would be powerful and moving to the congregation in front of us, but I don’t think I realised what effect it would have on me. Standing there on stage, my life condensed into a few capitals on cardboard, while music played behind me, rejoicing in the love of God - I saw and felt and cried for God’s presence in my story. God’s footsteps on my path.

Testimonies have power not just for the receivers but the givers. They carry strong memories of God’s trace over our lives. And all of us need to be reminded, or we forget. We forget what God has done for us. We forget what our lives were like before God.

Sometimes it takes a few words and a piece of cardboard in your hands to see the truth.

A few people approached me after the service to thank me for being brave and sharing my testimony. I was grateful for their encouragement and love. But what meant the most to me was a lady who thanked me with tears in her eyes. I struggle with it too, she said. But I can’t share it with anyone. I don’t have anyone I can share it with. The person closest to me gets angry. Christians shouldn’t struggle with this, he says.

I think this is the reason why we need to be vulnerable, why we need to be open and unafraid. Even if what we are talking about might be frowned upon or shunned or avoided. Even if we may be mocked or rejected. It doesn’t matter. Because by being weak with each other, we can be strong together. We can lean against each other and get through the storms of life. And there are so many.

There are so many people who dream our dreams and shed our tears and feel our fears. Different people with the same scars and hurts. I wish we would do things like this more often, so that this lady I spoke to would know she is not alone, that she always has a hand to hold. That she is worth the fight.

I am grateful to God because when people told me I was brave, I realised that I didn’t feel it. Two months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to stand in front of a crowd of 400 odd strangers, admitting that I had - and still struggle with - a mental health issue. But this morning, it just felt like the thing to do. I believe in it, I thought to myself.

A few months ago, I signed a pledge for the mental health charity, Time to Change. I promised myself that I would speak out about my mental health problems. That I wouldn’t be afraid anymore to be honest, that I would do everything I could to combat the stigma in people and inside of me. So this morning was just a logical extension of this promise I made to myself. It wasn’t bravery. It was just acting in the truth.

When I reflect on this, I am grateful to God for bringing me from a position of self-stigma and shame to a position of self-acceptance and knowledge that God can heal. Knowledge that all of us are flawed and glorious jars of clay, broken and loved by God. Hope that God is working the every day, and there is nothing to be afraid of. That nothing that anyone says of me can prevail over what is right and true and good.

This Easter, I am grateful for Jesus’ life, death, and victory. I am grateful for what he has done with my life. And I am grateful for everything that is still to come.

(And in case you are interested, this is what was written on my piece of cardboard:
BATTLING DEPRESSION  NO HOPE  NO JOY
ALIVE TO LOVE GOD & OTHERS)

For the Christian part of me

For the Christian part of me by Joel McKerrow

"For the Christian part of me

Not for the Christ but for the Christian

I am sorry

For when I look at the book and look at my life

When I look at the Christ and look at the church

The two are as black and white

So for the way I have silenced you with words I thought were the only true

For every preacher that has yelled at you

Every Bible that’s been quoted at you

Every megaphone that has damned you 

Every friend that has judged you

Every parent that has guilted you

I am sorry

For my brothers who say that God hates fags

Oh how I wish they were not my brothers

Sometimes it is easier to love your enemies than your kin

So to every boy who sliced wrists ‘cause he didn’t fit within

No matter how much he pushed and pulled did not fit in his skin

Was told he was sin

That demons lurked within

I am sorry

You are not broken because you are gay

We are all broken because we are human

Because we treat each other this way

The way we judge by the words that were spoken

By the burkha you were cloaked in

By the crystals you believed in

By the gender you born in

So to every person I did not converse with but tried to convert instead

I’m sorry for the way I couldn’t see past these glasses

Sorry for the way I thought my pastor spoke the absolute truth

Didn’t know he was broken just like the rest of us

Thought he was the best of us

For the arrogance I thought was confidence

When I thought I was right and you were wrong
We were good and you were bad

We were light and you were dark

I took a pen, drew a line before us

Took some bricks, built a wall between us

Stood on a pedestal, crafted a cross into a pulpit and yelled at you from within it

I am sorry

And to the lady who was beaten as I sang songs within my church

To the addict who overdosed as I dined with Christian friends

To the beggar who needs money as my money built church buildings

To the boat person arriving on these shores of hope and hopelessness

To the teenager who is pregnant with abortion as an option

I am sorry we have yelled at you, made you feel so alone

We should have put an arm around you and walked with you home

Whether it was a pram you pushed before you that day or just the will to keep on walking 

So for the wars that were fought in the name of the Christ

And the swords that were swung in the name of his love

The bombs that exploded, the bullets sang hymns

The tanks marched on like good Christian soldiers 

Who prayed every day for their God to be with them

As their brothers they fought and their sisters they shot

Their sons in the flame

Did we not recognise they all prayed the same

For this God to be with them, for this God to protect

Oh how this God must have wept

If only we’d listened to the prayer of the other

If only we’d seen that he was our brother

Whether on his knees with his hands to the East

Whether yarmulka-wearing or burkha-bearing

Whether sitting beneath the bodhi tree or kissing the feet of some saint celebrity

We lifted the rifle to shoot the enemy 

The cross-bearing flag to show our allegiance to be 

We did not hear the sound whispered from the cross that day

Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do

We forgot that the Christ we claim to follow walked the talk of non-violence

Ate the stale bread of silence

Stood up against the systems of military might

Of fear and oppression

Of bigoted aggression

This is my confession

So with every part of me I would keep following this Jesus 

And the life that he lives and the love that he gives

Yet every part of me because of this history would deny that I am a Christian

To put high walls between these brothers and I

But who am I to be bigoted about the bigoted

And who am I to condemn those who condemn 

If I keep the name Christian, perhaps I can speak to them

Remind them of this Jesus of Mother T and Martin King

Of Mandela and Tutu

Of that great man from Assisi

Yes, there is still some pride left in my ancestry

And for all else, I say

I am sorry

I am sorry."

Why do we put up with this? pt. 2

I was hoping I wouldn't have to do a sequel to my last post with this title, at least for a while. But this morning I heard about the launch of the government's campaign against benefits for EU migrants. I guess the attack on the minorities has begun. 

When I speak about this issue, I think I fall into a strange category. I suppose I am an immigrant myself. I didn't grow up here. But I have a British passport. I don't have white skin, or blonde hair, or blue eyes. I wasn't born here. I am Chinese and I identify myself as Chinese. But because my father, born and bred Hong Kong, lived and worked here for 14 years, my brother I have British passports, citizenship and right to abode. 

I suppose this excludes us from UKIP rhetoric. I could exclude myself from this debate, believing myself to be safe. But it's not that simple.

I am trying to be calm and level headed here, because the truth is that I am shaking with anger at this whole thing, its divisiveness, thinly veiled racism and hate-mongering. 

But let's start slowly.

BENEFIT TOURISM

I don't know how many of you have read the PM's article, published in the carefully chosen Sun newspaper. Showing its characteristically gracious and inclusive flair, the article opens, "David Cameron today vows in The Sun to crack down on immigrants sponging off the taxpayer."

From the PM's speech, you would be forgiven in thinking there is a massive problem with immigrants claiming benefits illegitimately. Problems that justify an all-guns-blazing, tough talk crackdown on jobseekers' allowance, social housing and free NHS treatment for EU immigrants.

After all, the PM did reference in a speech in Ipswich "concerns, deeply held, that some people might be able to come and take advantage of our generosity without making a proper contribution to our country."

And if it's true that benefit tourism is a huge problem in the UK, and we are facing unprecedented numbers of immigrants moving into the country and crippling taxpayers by illegitimate benefit scrounging, then we need to put an end to it - right?

Wrong. 

Wrong because we aren't facing this problem. Wrong because once again, the government's anti-migrant rhetoric isn't based on facts but right-leaning ideology.

MYTHS ABOUT EU MIGRANTS

BBC News notes, "No 10 was unable to give any figures on the scale, cost and numbers of so-called benefit tourists, although DWP figures suggest 17% of working-age UK nationals claim a benefit, compared with 7% of working age non-UK nationals."

Okay. How interesting.

Let's have a look at some facts and figures about EU immigration and benefits, provided by the European Commission in the UK. Maybe the facts will shed some light on the issue?

There is no evidence that the UK suffers significantly from benefit tourism. Neither do EU migrants represent a disproportionate number of benefit claimants – rather the reverse. 

As an example, the Department for Work and Pensions’ figures show that of 1.44m people (or very roughly 2.4% of the UK population) claiming Jobseekers Allowance (JSA) in Feb 2011, under 38 000 were from other EU countries. This represents about 2.6% of total JSA claimants, which is broadly in line with the estimated percentage of the UK population – also around 2.6%, or about 1.6 million people – who are nationals of other EU countries. 

However, given that a significantly greater proportion of the EU migrant population is of working age than is the case for the general population, this means that the percentage of working-age EU migrants claiming Jobseekers’ Allowance is lower than the proportion of the general labour force claiming this benefit. The DWP document (see link above) shows that the picture is similar for other benefits.

The comparison is even more marked when looking at EU migrants from Poland and the other seven Member States which joined the EU in 2004. Under 13 000 JSA claimants (0.9% of total claimants) in February 2011 were from those Member States which joined the EU in 2004. These included for instance 6 390 claimants from Poland – or just over 1% of the estimated number of Polish nationals residing in the UK – compared to an overall figure of 2.4% of the UK population claiming JSA. 

The level of EU migration into the UK is itself also often overestimated. In fact, according to Oxford University, net (arrivals minus departures) migration of non-British EU citizens into the UK in 2011 was 82 000, compared to 204 000 net arrivals from other parts of the world. So EU migration accounted for around 28.7 % of net migration into the UK in 2011.

(Highlights mine) 

I would really recommend reading this article on EU migrant myths. It provides evidence which strongly challenges the recurring myths the government seems so intent on propagandising: that EU law give all EU citizens an unconditional right to reside freely in the UK, that EU law means EU migrants are automatically entitled to claim benefits, and that EU rules encourage so-called benefit tourism.

So hold on. If benefit tourism isn't a problem, and an overwhelming majority of EU immigrants make a greater contribution to this country than they are a burden on the taxpayer, then what is all this about?

COMMODITIES NOT PEOPLE 

I am worried about what this government rhetoric is all about. I am deeply disturbed and angered about the way in which minority groups are increasingly being marginalised and talked about with the language of blame and unwelcome. I sense increasing levels of xenophobia, and I am afraid. I had hoped that this was a trait of fringe groups like UKIP, the BNP and the Sun readership, but not the government.

It begins with dehumanising language. With language that talks about immigrants - all of them as a general and nondescript lump - not as people, individuals with sacred life burning in them, but commodities. 

"We benefit from new countries joining the EU," the PM says. "They'll buy more things from us and jobs will be created. But as a government we have to make sure people come for the right reasons."

I want you to read those sentences again. 

They'll buy more things from us. We have to make sure they come for the right reasons - to buy things from us and create jobs. 

It's insulting.

The way immigrants are spoken about shows how the government sees them. Commodities, not people. Resources, bags of money, not individuals to be valued and cared for in their own right.

"We cannot have a culture of something for nothing," he says. "New migrants should not expect to be given a home on arrival."

And why not? Because they don't deserve to be provided for - no matter what horrific circumstances they may have come from, what hopes and dreams they might have, what struggles they are escaping - unless they give you something in return?

Their money? Their labour? Their investment? 

Would you say that of a British-born citizen? A new born child? A disabled old man? Well, maybe you would say that of a disabled old man.

And on investment, the government is clear in its policies. If you are a wealthy foreign investor, you are an exception. You can have lots of leniency when it comes to immigration and taxes, because the UK wants your money. Doesn't matter if you're corrupt or indulge in questionable practices. As long as you've got the dough.

"We should be clear that what we have is a free National Health Service, not a free International Health Service."

And what we have are racist soundbites from a people-pleasing, right-leaning government. What we have is a free health service - a gem in a world of profiteering and cruelty and illness and death - which you are ripping to shreds because of ignorant fear-mongering. Because of emerging xenophobia.

I have had enough of this.

ALL THIS MATTERS

I say all this not just as a Jesus follower who cares about the justice that my Lord came to bring, but as someone who has been on the receiving end of this rhetoric in personal quarters. I have been told by a then close friend, following a racist incident that I had witnessed, that the reason why people like me, who came to this country as students, can stay in this country is because of the money we have contributed to the economy. It was dehumanising. I have never really recovered from it.

All this rhetoric is a lie that we should be up in arms about. Not only is it not based on fact, and therefore bad practice in any sector, but it is deeply and morally wrong. It cuts to the core of what it means to be human. 

If we are so easily manipulated by lies and hatred of people who we think are different - people who laugh and cry and bleed just as we do, who work and play and sleep and dream just as we can - then what do we have left?

Rally Cry

I don’t want to be another face
Another
Shadow walking
Through the race.
I don’t want the death bed of someone else’s
Dreams, with years replete
And empty of other people’s
Screams.
No
More. I want to be
The girl who etched the signs of
Freedom
On her skin, a soul burst
Like birds soaring
Searing the world with
Tears like blood.
Not a statue or siren
Of generations past,
Not the dark recordings inside of me
Tearing me from me
Telling me there is nothing inside of me.
I want to be free.
I don’t want to glaze my eyes
To choke in the vacuum
Waiting for white men in suits
To tell me what
I already knew
From pulpits glazed and guilded
In churches walled and wilted.
I want to fight
To throw punches and shout
Truth like a rally
Cry.
To set fire to glass houses
To shake and shatter
The whitewashed walls we build
While our brothers and sisters
And their mothers and fathers
Weep and worry and die and fight
I want to fight.
To touch heaven
In the face of a child
Walking down a dirt road
Carrying a big load
Wishing for a hand to hold.
I want to be that face.
I want to be the message and the media
To be words that are not
Drowned by the silence in the emptiness of the
Noise around us
As we burn bridges and build
Burdens for others to bear.
I don’t want more things
And books
And programmes
And more people telling me what it means
To kiss the feet of God Almighty
In the people that he loved
That we love
So little and
Hurt
So
Much. I want not
To be trapped
In the stupor of old dreams
I want their dreams
Their hopes and longings
Burning in my blood
Their prayers to the Saviour
Beating as my battle cry
As I sit in churches
Wondering when the fire went out.
No more seconds ticking
Like a candle in the cold
As the frost of the winter
Eats away at the fire
Inside of me. I want to stand
On life’s cliff and know that
I am alive
To have God’s love burst the world apart in me.
I want to be God’s love in me
Not asleep but awake to the scars
Of the universe in which
Love and hurt collide.
I want to be the explosion.
I want to be me.

The gift of giving

I’m currently reading a great book on fundraising by Jeff Brooks. I am honestly so grateful to have come across this gem. I would recommend it to anyone who is interested in getting people on board to support a cause. In addition to learning lots of evidence-based techniques, fundraising strategies, and ways that donors think, I am also growing in passion about fundraising and the power it has to change the world.

It has taken me a while to come around to this way of thinking. Often I get frustrated with working in the charity sector and raising money. My doubts and frustrations are mainly centred around human nature and the reasons why we give. The self-centred motivations we all have, and how much we fall short.

But Jeff Brooks writes so passionately about the power of fundraising. He is so proud to be a fundraiser. In reading his words, I think I feel proud to be a fundraiser too. Jeff Brooks makes me believe that fundraising, when channelled correctly and with integrity, can be a real force for good. It can make a difference.

I want to share an excerpt from the last chapter of the book. Reading it made me think hard about the gift of giving. Jeff Brooks writes about the painful deterioration of his mother due to Parkinson’s. He writes about her horrible delusions, physical suffering and death.

“It’s over now. I’m thankful Mom no longer struggles in a ruined body and a darkened mind.

Yet it’s not over. My heart still aches over the torment she suffered. I wish I’d spent more time with her. I regret that I wasn’t with her the night her life finally floated away like a wisp of smoke. 

But there’s a way I can strike back at Parkinson’s disease. I can defy it - give it the finger - take back some of what it stole.

I can give to a nonprofit organisation. They’ll take my money, even a small amount, and fight Parkinson’s disease. They’ll help people who have it now. They’ll fund research into better treatments. And maybe, someday, they’ll find a cure - so Parkinson’s can never take anyone else down that terrible road.

All it takes for me to move from defeat to victory is to give away some money. It’s so easy. […]

Giving can’t bring her back or erase the pain, but it reorients me. I’m less a victim, more in control. Wiser, and less wounded.

My brush with Parkinson’s disease isn’t special or unusual. Everyone faces these things. You’re in the same boat; if it hasn’t happened yet, you or someone else to you will eventually fall under an attack of some kind, swift or slow, fatal or not. You’ll take wounds so deep you’ll wonder if you can survive.

But anyone can embrace the miracle of giving. It can ease your grief, revive your hope, and give you strength to face affliction, wrath, danger and distress.

It’s available whether you’re wise or foolish, educated or ignorant, rich or poor, believer or nonbeliever. Giving is a light in the darkness, a life vest in a storm, a song among tombs.” 

Jeff Brooks is right. Giving is a gift and a miracle. It ignites the soul. It can get us through the darkest of nights. It brings healing to both the giver and the receiver.

Dave and I have been looking into the gift of giving as a married couple. As a couple we want to be generous givers. We want to pour ourselves and what we have out as a balm into the wounds of the world.  We want to bless people and projects with the resources we can offer. We feel blessed to be able to give. And so Jeff Brook’s words really resonate with me. Giving can be “a song among tombs”, a way to cling to the hope that you can make a difference in this crazy world, that you can overcome personal and public tragedies with a small act of kindness. It can be a way to "give the finger" to all the things that are so desperately wrong, that feel out of control and unstoppable. It can be a life vest in the storm of life’s sufferings.

Maybe I am ashamed of giving and asking people to give. But giving is a gift to be celebrated. We are so small and flawed and fragile. But our gifts can accomplish great things. Giving can make the world better.

Thank you, Jeff Brooks, for showing me that.

Why do we put up with this?

So the Chancellor's new budget has come out and it's all the rage. Rage being the key word here for me.

I think I have just about reached the limits of my patience with the government, politicians and politics. Listening to coverage of the budget on the radio and reading the Chancellor's speech, I just want to ask one question:

Why do we put up with this?

I am not an economist. Sadly, numbers and budgets are not my strength. So I won't go into detail on my opinions about specific policies - you might as well go talk to a random passerby, who would probably have a deeper grasp of financial terms than I do!

What I do want to talk about is ideology and rhetoric. Because I think it's about time. I've just about had enough of this rubbish.

STRIVERS VS. SKIVERS

In his speech,  George Osborne talks about the Aspiration Nation. "Mr Deputy Speaker," he opens. "This is a budget for people who aspire to work hard and get on."

He goes on.

"For years people have felt that the whole system was tilted against those who did the right thing: who worked, who saved, who aspired. These are the very people we must support if Britain is to have a prosperous future. This is a budget for those who aspire to own their own home; who aspire to get their first job; or start their own business. A budget for those who want to save for their retirement and provide for their children. It is a budget for our Aspiration Nation."

At this point I started yelling at the radio. Not an altogether healthy or contained response, I know. But this makes me so angry. I find it so insulting, so deeply offensive, and so unjust.

The reason why I hate this rhetoric is because of its underlying, not even subtle ideology. The belief is that the nation is made of two groups of people: the wonderful and blameless strivers, those who "work hard and just want to get on", those hardworking families who are finding it harder to get by, and the evil, benefit-scrounging skivers, who sit on their asses, leech off the government, annoy others by being "nightmare neighbours", and drain masses out of our economy.

There we go, ladies and gentlemen. Are you a striver or a skiver? You're either one or the other.

Apparently, if you're a striver, you have dreams. You aspire and work hard towards your goals. Britain wants you and only you, and you're the key to our prosperity.

If you're not though, if you're a skiver, you have no dreams. No aspirations. You don't just want to get on. You have no desires in life to buy a house and protect your children, to have stability and retire in safety and comfort. No, you don't have these desires,  because you're some kind of evil underling underclass who cares about nothing but leeching and taking drugs and mindlessly wasting good taxpayer money.

I hope you read that and saw it as the absurd farce that it is. If not, I'd recommend reading this post, "Lies we tell ourselves", which exposes the myths that we have about poverty and the poor in this country - including this view of skivers. There is no proof for this ideology- in fact, evidence often points the other way. So not only is it insulting and unjust, it's also a lie.

I hate - and for me hate is not too strong a word - this rhetoric and ideology that the government shovels to us day after day. By using ridiculous self-fulfilling phrases like "For years people have felt" or "We have all known for some time", they would have us believe, like soulless automatons, patently untrue and unverified/unverifiable crap of epic proportions.

What got me when I heard George Osborne's words is that everyone has aspirations and dreams. Everyone wants to have a livelihood, to be safe and stable and be able to provide for their children. Everyone wants to have that happy life. But for some people, living in poverty amidst violence, abuse, and generational cultural problems, those aspirations and dreams are knocked out of them very early on. Poverty is an accident of birth - you don't choose to be born into a poor deprived area, where everything will be stacked against your chances of living free of drugs, gangs or poverty. Who chooses that?

But no, let's not look deeper into the reasons why people are claiming benefits or living in poverty. Let's just demonise them in one fell swoop and take away everything that gives them a chance at long term survival. Let's lump them all into an insanely tasteless and baseless group and proceed to heap public scorn and mistrust on them.

That's what your role as a government is, right?

THE WORST PARTS OF US

I can't explain to you how disappointed I am by politics and politicians. Every day I wonder whether there'll be someone and something new, something that will show politics can have a heart, can be righteous, can be defending the poor and vulnerable and perpetuating justice instead of injustice. That politics can have integrity. 

I am sad and angry when I look at our politics. Britain is one of the world's most developed democracies but this is still happening. It's devastating. What I see is a government that lacks moral responsibility. A government that lacks a deeper interest in truth and justice beyond what garners positive public opinion and election points. What would politics be like without elections I wonder? Would politicians still act amorally? Probably. People only want power and forget the poor.

I hate the way that politics and politicians seem to appeal so much to the worst parts of us. The parts of us that look down on others and judge.  The parts that need someone to blame for our problems. Labour for our financial situation. Foreigners for taking jobs. Skivers for draining our taxes. The list goes on. But no one wants to say: it's our fault for allowing this system to go on. Or: it's no one's fault. It's just the way life is.

Instead, the government and opposition pander to public opinion. No one will say things that are true but won't win an election. Even Ed Milliband has to appeal to the right, cracking down on immigrants and welfare. No one wants to tell the truth if it means votes will be lost. This seems to me to be a really dangerous place for us to be.

So the Tories pander to the rich, slashing welfare costs that further cripple the disabled but allow millionaires to get tax cuts. They help home buyers to put down mortgages but don't invest in social housing. They take 1p off every pint of beer while binge drinking and alcoholism reach alarming rates.

Insulting, isn't it?

WHY DO WE PUT UP WITH THIS?

Why do we let this rhetoric and ideology go unquestioned?

All over the media, people are questioning and nitpicking new government policies. But we let the rhetoric and ideology slide. Rarely do people challenge these assumptions. Why?

We need to challenge the injustice and untruth politicians are trying to spread in an attempt to justify their policies and secure votes. We need to denounce these stereotypes. They are not true. They set up false distinctions between people which ultimately won't achieve anything good.

We need not to put up with any of this anymore.