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We have a puppy!

Fizz is nine weeks old and is what used to be called a mongrel. She’s what my dad calls a “Heinz 57″. She’s a mutt and we love her. Her dad was a collie of some kind and her mum was part-labrador, part-spaniel, part-pretty-much-every-other-breed I think. She’s very cute and like all puppies she manages to capitalise on it.

As with any puppy, Fizz needs to be house-trained. Being thoroughly modern owners we’ve read “Puppies for dummies” and searched every dog website there is. Most of them seem to be thinly disguised adverts for dog products of some kind. We decided to invest in some “pee pads”. These are the inside of a nappy spread out into a square and they are impregnated with some chemical that allegedly attracts puppies to pee on them. They are the modern equivalent of having newspaper all over the floor. The idea is that they make it easier to train your puppy to go on the pad and then you gradually move the pad closer to the door and eventually outside. This trains the puppy to pee outside.

Dogs can’t read

I know that’s obvious but in our research we forgot that Fizz did not read “Humans for dummies” or browse the many “How to train your new owners” Dog websites. Specifically she did not read the instructions on the packet of pee pads. She didn’t know what they were for nor that they were for her own good. In short she didn’t use them. No, she actually hated them. The wunder-chemical did nothing to attract her to them and whenever we put her on the pad — at the allotted time or when she looked like she was wanting to go — she would sit with that “naughty puppy” look on her face then after half hour of nothing we would let her off and she would pee on the rug. The one time she did “go” on the pad, it was more by fluke than design – we still heaped much praise on her as instructed but it was a one-off. She was getting good at recognising when she needed to go but had no desire to go where we wanted. Such is the way with puppies.

So what could we do? Three days of this had left us with a puppy who was in danger of becoming neurotic about paper on the floor and was still peeing and pooping everywhere else. She seemed to understand this wasn’t the plan but it was like she felt she had no option. We decided to skip the pee pad and starting taking Fizz into the back garden. We had been avoiding this as she hasn’t been vaccinated yet but our garden is enclosed and we have no other dogs.

It worked. From day one Fizz has trotted outside onto the grass and done what comes naturally. within 24 hours she had a regular toilet routine down and she also scratches at the back door to let us know if she needs an interim “leg-stretch”.

And grace..?

So what has any of this to do with grace then? Well when you are standing out in the cold waiting for a puppy to “go wee-wee” you do a lot of thinking. On one of these it occurred to me that the reason there are so many ways to house-train a puppy is because puppies are all different. If they were robotic we could just program their software to act how we want. They’re not robots. they are living things with minds and individuality. The reason this technique worked for us is that it suited Fizz. Other dog owners will experience more success with pee-pads and others still will swear by them (as opposed to at them). Then it occurred to me that humans are like this. We’re fickle, what suits one doesn’t necessarily suit another. It’s long been known that some students thrive in class but are hopeless in exams. Others are the opposite, being able to swot up and regurgitate the relevant facts but not apparently being able to get along in class very well. As someone once said, You are unique – just like everyone else. God knows this. He designed us that way. God seems to like diversity.

As has been often said, he didn’t make us as robots – we have free will. That’s all well and good but it has side effects, not least of which is the one that we could (and do) use our free will to reject the very idea of God altogether. It’s that dangerous game that parents play and none more so than God. The game is that you pour your heart and soul into bringing up your kids and you can at best only hope they won’t reject you and walk away. Most times kids like anyone will respond to a loving upbringing by loving their parents but that love does not always mean they will be what their parents had dreamed. And those with multiple children will know that what works with one child is almost as likely to not work with the next. People, like puppies are diverse. Imagine coming up with a single method of house-training every single puppy which not only works but suits every puppy’s individual needs and desires. It’s almost impossible, that’s why there are so many. If you want another analogy imagine coming up with a fool-proof weight loss programme which would not only work but suit the individual needs of every person who went on it. Again impossible.

Now consider the diversity between two puppies or two children with the same parents. Now project that upwards to the 6 billion people currently on the planet (never mind all the ones who are no longer on it). Imagine trying to come up with a single way to recompense for the diversity of wrong doing and – yes – sin among so many people. Yet God did. In a single act Jesus dealt with the entire range and amount of sin the human race could collectively muster – ever. And yet not one person is dealt with the same. Each person who comes to what we Christians call the “throne of grace” is forgiven completely and finds all their sin, guilt and even shame dealt with once and for ever. Yet each person will leave with a different experience. Each encounters a very personal and real Saviour who reacts and interacts with them in a way that best suits them. In short each encounters grace which sufficient.

That’s why it’s amazing.

Thought I’d start the new year with a cautionary tale.

Somebody once said “There’s no such thing as a normal day”. That is true but there are definitely abnormal days. Days that really could only happen once. At least there had better be or else the day described here could happen again. Before I go any further I want to say this is all absolutely true (except the Bon Jovi bit which I can’t prove) and occurred in mid 2008. At the time, I submitted it as an article for an internal magazine where I was then working but never got around to putting it on here.

Oh and wouldn’t read this while eating if I were you.

Rude awakenings

It all started when my left leg decided it was time to re-introduce me to the idea of cramp. Now I’ve had my fair share of cramp and perhaps it was the fact that I was in the middle of an unusually deep sleep but I don’t recall cramp ever feeling like this! This was man-cramp. My leg felt like it had a shark attached and I went from snore to roar in under a second. I did what any normal human would do and screamed. Actually I didn’t – I was about to when I remembered my loving wife (Claire) sound asleep beside me and being a caring husband (and a complete coward) I thought it best not to wake her at 5:30 in the morning.

So I slid out of bed (the only way I could actually move at the time) and tried to get rid of the cramp by stretching my leg – which of course hurt even more. So now I wanted to scream even more. Time to leave the room and scream elsewhere. They don’t call it cramp for nothing though and my first step resulted in a half lunge and me falling towards the bed. After a clever mid-fall twist which would have made Tom Daley proud I avoided the bed and landed on the floor – right on top of the leg with cramp. So I crawled to the bathroom, stuffed a flannel in my mouth and stretched my leg. After about ten minutes the pain (and the screaming) reduced enough for me to limp back to bed where my – ever so concerned – wife was probably dreaming about Jon Bon-Jovi but was definitely not awake. Phew. The venture was a success in one aspect at least.

I went from roar to snore in under a second. This was man-cramp!

And so back to sleep for all of around 10 minutes when my son (four at the time) started shouting “help!” from his bedroom. Despite some well placed elbows, Bon-Jovi was still holding my wife’s avid attention. So up I got and hobbled into the kids’ room to find him sitting up in the top bunk. He calmly explained that he’d had a nightmare and had “forgotten” to wake up in the middle of it to go to the toilet. The bed was soaked. His sister (three) was as out of it as my wife (but hopefully not dreaming about Jon Bon-Jovi) in the lower bunk. The manager in me took over and I decided that eighties musicians would have to move aside. I, gently, woke my wife and assigned her the task of dealing with our son while I dealt with the bed. Standing on the edge of the lower bunk (with my daughter still asleep in it) I stripped the top one and cleaned up. Eventually the bedding was all piled up and Catnip (his favourite toy) was sitting atop the pile like a wee-covered Guy Fawkes. I decided I’d take them down “in the morning”. By this time my son was clean and in dry jammies and clambered back into bed. I limped back to mine. My wife was already heading back to the eighties and my cramp was dying down so it seemed some sleep was on the cards.

Enter the cat

At this point the cat realised she had not played a big enough part in my morning. She also decided – what with all the moving around – that it must be time for her breakfast. Tempting as it was to help her out of the upstairs window, I hobbled downstairs and fed her with all the grace I could muster. Believe me, she was lucky I didn’t put a funnel in her mouth and pour it down! So after all that it was back to bed and what was left of my sleep.

Believe me at this point the cat was lucky I didn’t open her mouth and pour the food down for her!

But wait! There’s more. Apparently during my cramp-induced gymnastics I managed to knock my alarm clock off the bedside and turned it off. So half an hour after I was supposed to wake up, my son appeared beside my bed and gently shook me. “Ah bless” I thought ,“He probably wants some breakfast”. He probably did, but the reason he was waking me up was to say “Daddy, Pebbles has done a poo in my room”. Pebbles if you haven’t guessed is the afore-mentioned cat. Taking in this glorious news I just knew it would be on the rug and not on the – easy to clean – laminate flooring. “Where abouts?” I asked, anxiously. “On the bottom bunk” came the reply swiftly followed by – a very dead-pan – “and it’s all squishy”. This was enough to drag my wife back from her own personal Ashes-to-Ashes and she went to rescue our daughter from the cat’s new litter tray. After she returned while I limped towards my own personal Life On Mars to clean another bed. Meanwhile Mummy went through the cleaning-a-child-with-cat-poo-on-their-fingers-whilst-avoiding-getting-it-on-yourself-and-anything-else procedure (patent pending).

When I arrived there were indeed some “parcels of fun” from Pebbles the cat on the end of the bed and they were indeed, squishy. Not that my daughter had noticed. Apparently she had remained completely asleep while the cat did it’s business and – even with the squishy poo on her bed – I confess I was envious. The cat must have seen my face and decided this was not the time to ask for more food and she sat quietly by the back door waiting for me to open it. If she was smart she’d stay out there all day. I know my cat. She’s not that smart.

A twist in the tale

You’d think this story would end now wouldn’t you but, like an M. Night Shyamalan film, there’s one final plot twist. As I went out to deposit Pebbles’ – er – pebbles ( now in a bag ) into the dustbin I re-discovered that the day before my Father-in-Law ( who to be fair was just trying to be helpful ) had put the kitchen bin liner and put it next to our dustbin. I had “meant” to do something about that before going to bed because, bless him, he didn’t know the reason we have dustbins with lids where I live. They are called foxes and overnight a couple of the little beggars had ripped that bin bag to shreds and spread the contents – offering like – before my front door. They were obviously looking for waste food. Ha! Waste food in our house – nice one.

So there I stood, tired, in bare feet, only one of which I could stand on, holding a bag of poo, before a sea of kitchen waste. Hey, at least the sun was shining. Right in my eyes! So I mopped up the sea, deposited the bag o’ poo and glanced at the clock. Arrghhh – 7:45 – I was supposed to leave at 7:30!

So while “this is the day that the Lord has made” would seem ironic at that moment. “We will rejoice and be glad in it” was a particular struggle. I really hope that was an abnormal day. Because if it wasn’t, there’s a risk that it could happen again and I’m not sure I could survive two days like that.

I know for a fact that my cat won’t!

P.S. My wife has asked me to point out that the bit about Bon Jovi is entirely without evidence or factual basis and is simply a pre-supposition on my part. Glad to get the legal part over but I would like to say that she was very excited when I later gave her tickets to a Bon-Jovi concert

It’s a popular meme at this time of year that Christmas is for the kids and — incarnation of God and beginning of the world’s salvation not withstanding — it probably is as well.

Having two of the little ones myself I thought it might be nice to share some of the Christmas-related, children-related quotes and events that I’ve encountered. Some happened this year, others in previous years.

Fair’s fair

My two were clamouring for one of the chocolates on offer after the carol service. I said they could have one each. My eldest (6 at the time) spotted the mince pies and — putting on his best smile — asked “Can I have a mince pie as well Dad?”. It’s Christmas. I said yes. At which point my youngest (4 at the time) started rifling through the tin of chocolates. When I asked what she was doing she responded (without looking up or stopping the rifling) with: “I don’t want a mince pie!”.

Guess who’s coming to town

It was six days before Christmas and to say my two were excited is a gross understatement. School was out and they were gearing up for the big night in a big way. Despite their excitement we managed to get them upstairs to get ready for bed. I took the opportunity to make a cup of tea and after stirring, tapped the mug with the teaspoon (I don’t know, it’s a thing I always do). It made a slight tinging sound at which the two kids thundered down the stairs shouting “We heard the bells! Where’s Father Christmas?”

New takes on the old old story

We’ve all encountered children who think the wise men brought “Gold, Frankenstein and Myrrh” but there are other cases of new words being used in the old story. I personally got in trouble as a child for saying the shepherds were washing their socks. I’ve also heard a version of Away in a manger where the cattle were “glowing” (presumably from standing too close to the angels). A friend’s child once asked why Mary and Joseph didn’t just drive home again if all the hotels were booked up but perhaps my favourite is the child who asked where the horses slept with all those people crowded in the stable.

The Real Father Christmas

When my niece was young I took her to see one of the many Father Christmas’s in a local shopping centre. Whilst queueing we passed the people exiting excitedly with their presents (and an emptier wallet). I heard a parent ask their child if they enjoyed seeing Father Christmas. The child responded with “yes and I think this one is the real one not some bloke pretending”. Then there was a pause followed by “He could do with getting his beard dry cleaned though.” from the older child that was with them. The look that the parent gave the older child would have made Medusa proud.

The trials of Christmas shopping

Last year I was in a shopping centre, a week or so before Christmas and took a moment to grab a rest while waiting for my wife. A Mother and her three children stopped and readjusted their myriad of bags next to me. The mother started running through her – mental – checklist to ensure they hadn’t forgotten anything. As she listed the gifst they had bought and who they were for, the middle of the three children began to interrupt. “Mum..”. The mother held up her hand to summon silence. “But..” Again the mother held up her hand and this continued through the list. Satisfied that they hadn’t forgotten anything she declared they could now go home. She then turned and asked what the middle child wanted. “I think Dad’s still in GAME” they said at which point the youngest threw up her arms and said “Oh great! We’ll never get him out of there!” (For those who don’t know, GAME is a popular video game store in the UK)

If you have any of your own, feel free to add them as comments here.

Happy Christmas

I’ve been thinking about heaven again – mostly because because it’s been the subject of recent small house groups at church lately I suppose. Anyway have a look at this verse from Revelation 6:

⁹When the Lamb opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been killed because they were faithful to the word of God and to the message they had received.¹⁰ These souls shouted in a loud voice, “Holy and true Lord, how long until you judge the people of the earth and punish them for killing us?” ¹¹ Then each one of them was given a white robe and was told to wait a short time longer. There were still some of their fellow servants and brothers and sisters in the service of Christ who must be killed as they were. They had to wait until all of this was finished.    ( Revelation 6:9-11 NCV )

The souls under the altar there clearly remember what they had to endure to get to heaven – including the painful stuff. This seems to be in conflict with the concept that all the tears in Heaven will be wiped away, there’ll be no more pain and no hurting. This vision of paradise could be somewhat marred by the thought that in the afterlife we’ll not forget the stuff we had to go through here on earth. Most of use would probably be content with just remembering the happy times wouldn’t we?

Or would we?

It strikes me that we need to remember the pain in order to give some point of reference to the good times. A glorious sunset is made even more glorious when comparing it to a dark grey and dismal drizzle from the day before. Even a simple meal can seem wonderful when it comes after a period of starvation. Similarly wouldn’t the joy of heaven would be made greater by the memory of what was endured on earth. Of course it’s true that such memories could bring anger, bitterness or remorse but we need to also remember that – in the case of the first two at least – such emotions are not heaven. As for the remorse, yes it’s possible that along with the painful memories of what happened to us will be the memories of the times we were less than humane, less than faithful or generally missed the mark when it came to our relationship with God and our fellow humans.

This is where the tear wiping could come into it. It’s also worth remembering that – no matter how hard we find it now – it’s much easier to believe in our forgiveness when we are being told – face to face – by the one who is forgiving us. When the hand that wipes your tears also contains the wounds that heal you, its harder to ignore or forget. Of course many times we are more than able to enjoy that forgiveness here, on earth. Sometimes we all struggle though and I find it comforting to know that it won’t always be that way.

Hope is a wonderful thing – don’t you think?

I’ve been thinking about Heaven a lot lately. Not in a morbid sense you understand but more in terms of wondering about the future.

A common opinion I’ve heard about Heaven (even from Christians) is how it’ll probably be boring, what with everyone sitting on clouds and playing harps. Of course any reasonable study of the Biblical passages referring to the afterlife (for Christians that is) soon reveals a much different picture to the one popularised by Renaissance art. That said there will still be things happening which – from our limited perspective here on Earth – may seem to be a little less than enthralling. For example, once we are in an eternal life, where time exists but just does not have the same effect on us, then we are able to converse for longer. Conversations could well take as long as they need, hours, days, years??? On the face of it – that could seem a boredom-inducing experience. Perhaps we need a new perspective on this though.

For my part, my musings have lead me to the opinion that we won’t be bored in Heaven. The reason for this is because being bored is a somewhat selfish state of mind. We become bored because the person we are listening to, the thing we are involved in or the job we are doing is just not what we want to be doing at that moment. We generally have what we consider to be “better” things to do. Will such selfishness exist in Heaven? I think not. Certainly is Heaven is perfect then such attitudes cannot be present. “Looking out for number one” is counter to the core teachings — and life — of Christ. So without the selfishness that breeds it it’s hard to see how we could find anything in Heaven boring.

It’s been a while since I posted something here – and longer since that was specifically applicable to Christians. Recently I was asked to give a talk (don’t like to think of them as sermons as that always conjurs images of people falling asleep) at my church. Having prayed about it I felt God wanted me to speak on His promises. One of the promises I looked at was the return of Jesus and how it should inspire us to live fuller lives here.

There’s a popular but misguided saying which says that one can be so heavenly minded they are of no earthly good and a lot of people have written a lot of good stuff to refute this. I stand among the group that feels this statement is not only false but dangerous as it prvents us thinking about the one thing that should be giving us hope.

The hope for a better future in the next world is not escapism but realism. If we , as Christians, are unable to focus on the glory that is to come then what hope can we honeslty offer to the world we live in. Without the purpose of heaven in our hearts we just become ineffective as ambassadors of Christ. Indeed I would go so far as to say that the problematic (and sometimes shameful) periods of Church history all contain – at their root – people whose focus was solely on the here and now and not the great hope of tomorrow.

CS Lewis said:

“If you read history, you will find that the Christians who did the most for the present world were just those who thought most of the next.”

And I agree. We must face life – with whatever it throws at us – with both eyes on heaven and bot feet on earth. If we don’t then I fear life will overrun us and eventually we will shrivel up in our own selfishness.

Joni Eareckson Tada wrote an excellent piece, The Earthly Good of Being Heavenly Minded [www.moodymagazine.com], for MoodyMagazine which I found when doing research for my talk. It’s an honest and frank piece and yet it speaks volumes about her approach to life and just how she “copes” with here disability.

This story again involves my niece Hannah, who at the time of these events was nine and a half. Hannah was out on a pre-Christmas shopping trip with her mother (my sister) and was quite looking forward to it as she was going to buy some new shoes. On their way to the store they passed a homeless man who sat by the side of the path, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this man (other than being homeless) but Hannah could not take here eyes of him.

She turned to her mother and asked if there was anything they could do for him, maybe give him some money. Her mother explained that they had only the £10 to buy the shoes with them. Hannah, without further thought, suggested – nay requested they use the money to buy him some food. Her mother told her that there really was no other money and if they broke that £10 there would not be enough for the shoes but Hannah was adamant.

So, accompanied by her mother, Hannah approached the man, dodging the crush of Christmas shoppers all crossing the road to avoid him. She asked if he would like some food, he said yes he would. So they went to a burger bar and bought him some hot food and a hot drink. He was very grateful and, Hannah remarked, he even gave a bit to his dog who probably had eaten as little as he had.

But there’s more to this tale. Further along their trip, they had gone into a newsagents to look at some cards for Christmas and after some time Hannahs mother saw a ten pound note under her foot. Immediately she looked around to see who could have dropped it – there was no-one around save her and Hannah. She looked for an assistant – none to be seen. She had not moved from that spot for a few minutes and she could not remember this money being there before. God had provided. Hannah had her shoe money restored.

Reflection

Okay so we could come up with any number of explanations for the £10 under the foot. She hadn’t noticed it, she should have handed it in, she could have had the money but not realised and then dropped it.

Perhaps we could come up with critcisms or synicism about the homeless guy. “He was probably a fake”, “He should have got a job”, “I bet he earns more than I do”. All excuses to avoid doing the one thing he wanted – help.

But isn’t all that kind of missing the point of the story?

Surely, the real lesson here is the sacrifice Hannah made. She had no idea the money would be restored, she was prepared to go without the new shoes in order to feed that man (and his dog). She did not consider, how or why he came to be there. She gave no thought to his authenticity. She crossed the road in the opposite direction to most others to speak to him. How many people do you think had done that during the day? How many people do you think had helped him? And the real tough one – how many Christians do you suppose had passed him by? Hannah offered help with no thought of compensation. How many times have we done something looking for the “brownie” point or trusting “God will provide”. What if this time He doesn’t? Does that mean next time we don’t either?

In another story involving Hannah I remark that Christ suggests we become like a child in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Perhaps we have more to learn from them than we think.

Hannah was no extra-ordinary nine year old (past tense because she is older now), she is probably the same as most of the ones you know. Try watching them and see what you can learn.

Inspired by a true story.

John sat in a park one day and watched a man training his dog.

The man would throw a stick and the dog would go fetch it and bring it back. As John watched he saw that the dog did not immediately run after the stick but instead waited for the master to say “go” at which he would almost fly after it

“Oh Lord” said John “I wish I had obedience like that”

Then the guy threw the stick and turned to the dog, who was eager to go, and said.. “stay!”. The dog was straining every sinew and muscle in his body to go get that stick but he stayed by his master waiting for what seemed an eternity.

“Oh Lord” said John “to have THAT sort of obedience”

The dog waited and and waited eagerly awaiting the “g” of “go” but until it came he would not move. Then the master finally said “come on boy, lets go home” and walked away from the stick. The dog, without a second glance at the stick, turned and trotted alongside his master, eyes fixed on him, it was as if the dog had completely forgotten the stick even existed.

“Learning anything?” came a voice in John’s heart.

Reflection

The trick in obedience is not just running for the stick but to listen for the command. If the command is “go” we go with all our might but if it is “stay” we must stay with all our might, regardless of the fact that we may “know” what needs to be done.

But when it comes time to leave the stick where the Master has thrown it we must turn, our eyes fixed upon Him, forget the stick and follow our Master.

This is what I term as “letting it go” or “laying it down”

It is the premise of surrendering our will to His, if we truly lay something down it is no longer upon our heart. He may restore it but He may not.

Like Abraham we must walk the road with our eyes lifted to the mountain not gazing upon our potential loss and we must not assume that in laying it down we will have it restored – however we must not assume that we will not have it restored either. To do either would be to fix our eyes upon the stick and not the Master.

Abraham is still known as the “friend of God”. A lyric of one of the songs we sing goes “I’d lay it all down again to hear You say that I’m a friend”. Would we lay it ALL down again? Would any of us lay down our own personal stick.

It may just be that God has something better planned for us that does not include that stick. It may that God has something better planned for us that does include it.

In either case the key is His plan, not the stick. His way is perfect, the goal of the prize of the upward call must be strived for but strived for in Christ Jesus. It is not just the call which is in Christ but the “pressing on” must also be in Him.

Our hope is eternal for Jesus has laid Himself down that we may be restored to life. Just as Abraham received Isaac back “from the dead” because of the Lords provision of the sacrifice, so Our Father in heaven will receive us back from the dead through the sacrifice of Jesus.

In remembering all this we should not forget the words of Jesus “If you love me then you will obey my commands” If we wish to be obedient to the Masters commands then just like the dog we must keep our attention on the Master and on Him alone. Oh and if you’re worried about how we can care for those around us with our eyes only on Jesus then take comfort from the fact that Jesus himself has his eyes fixed only on the Father and he managed to care for others pretty well.

Many (usually married) people say being single is a “blessing” and others say that you should “enjoy it while it lasts”. Whilst I appreciate the good intent in these words, to the single person they are often not helpful and can often compound the problem further. Worst still are the times married people will say to a single person “you don’t know how lucky you are” (usually after a row with their partner).

For the single person, just being single can be the hardest thing – all around you there are couples, society is geared for them.

So what do we do – grin and bear it? Live in eternal hope? Pretend it doesn’t matter? Join singles groups? Actually the last one doesn’t hurt but it is not the answer. I was called to be single and it lasted for six years. By called I mean that I felt that God definitely wanted me to be single. After six years, I was felt the Lord was calling me out of single-ness and into marriage. Everything seemed to point to it and the confirmations were there from external sources. My hopes were high, I was using terms like “out of the desert” a lot.

My “fiancée” felt the same way but didn’t live near me so much of our communication was done by phone and e-mail. Four days before I was due to go and visit her I lost contact. I was in a panic but when I got through to her she said that she felt the Lord was saying it was “all wrong” (see footnote). This was why she had been out of contact, she was trying to find a way to tell me. End result – she called it all off and the only “answer” I had here was a big exclamation mark over my head with my mouth wide open.

I was devastated. My sister and her family generously offered me a space on their holiday. Married people take note, sometimes single people want to be included so lets have no more of this leaving them out of dinner parties because you’re afraid they’ll feel like a gooseberry!. Anyway, after my holiday I felt a little better (see touching a heart for more on this) and did some soul searching.

I realised , slowly that I had built my life around (if you’ll excuse the pun) a solitary question “Am I supposed to be single?” It became a real burden for me. I realised I had fallen in love with the ideal of being a husband – everyone said I’d make a good one, so there you go!

But I was wrong, I got it wrong. How did I get it sooo wrong!!!

The anger was coming,

“why me!”

I could feel it’s familiarity

“Why can’t I just have one shot at this!”

It grew as I fed it

“WHY DO I HAVE TO BE THE ONE WHO IS SINGLE!!!!” I almost shouted to the Lord.

Then He answered, very, very quietly answered.

I was watching a Christian video. The pastor was speaking about holiness. Yeah, yeah heard it – next message please. But God wanted me to hear something else. A solitary phrase.

The pastor on the tape looked right (I mean real close up) into the camera and said “you people at home – when was the last time you lived your life for God and not yourself!”

Wham! – cue the fish impressions and the exclamation mark.

Later (much later) I got back to thinking about this…

“That’s it?”- I mumbled through a quivering lip “But what about being single?” I asked the Lord

Silence

“Okaaay, what about being married?”

the silence continued

then quietly I asked myself “but what about the way I am living my life?”

If you can hear God smile, I heard it.

Then it came – it was like a new dawn – it came slowly, but it came. I had based my life on the wrong question – “single or not?” it should have been “holy or not?” ….. I had to get my life right.

I thought the day we “broke up” was the worst day of my recent life but I realised the worst day I could possibly have was to stand before the throne of God Almighty and watch Him cry as He said “what did you do for Me?” and all I could answer was “er…um… well you see, I was kinda dealing with this issue of being single…”.

Reflection

So I guess what I am saying is that I had a choice, I could aim for an answer to my question or get down to work so that I could see as well as hear that smile on the face of God.

Would I rather give up everything to become a husband or part of The Bride of Christ?

So have I given up on being married? Not given up, I have laid it down. In the end it would have dragged me down and away from the loving arms of my God. I looked at the options… single, married? There’s a better option… holy.

Better to be holy and single or holy and married that just single or married. So what about you? What’s you’re question? “Is this wrong job?”, “Is this the wrong church?”, “Am I in the wrong marriage?”. I can’t answer those any more than I could answer my own “single or not?” question. God can but he may not choose to. I would suggest that his concerns lie with something rather more dear to his heart in every case… “what about the way you are living your life?”. Jesus said, “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness…” all the other answers come later, once we figure out what the real questions are.

Somebody asked me – “so are you supposed to be single or married?” my answer?… “No. I am supposed to be God’s servant” Thinking back I guess that persons facial expression matched Joshua’s when he asked the Captain of the Host, who’s side He was on and got the answer “no” “yeah but a married or single servant?” they said, thinking they had beaten my answer

I thought about it…

“dunno, I think I had better get the serving bit right first don’t you?”

Offered in the love of Christ Ryan

Footnote

I would like to say that my girlfriend at the time was (and still is) a very warm and loving Christian. I know that what she did took real courage and I owe a lot to her for seeing it through. Had she not we could have both ruined our lives. She was right. Therefore I would like to say here that I thank the Lord for her, her inclusion here is for the sake of completeness and not to malign her in anyway – I apologise if it appears otherwise

Update

( Six years later )

Some people have asked what happened regarding my marital status following these events. For those interested It was sometime before I found my thoughts going back to the question of a companion. I believe God took me through a season where He showed me more about myself with respect to this side of things. I met a beautiful woman at a local church. Just under two years later we married on the happiest day of my life.

Funnily enough not because it was what I had always wanted but because I was starting to share my life with someone who loved me so much and whom I loved equally so and for both of us having God at the centre of our lives, together an apart, was paramount.

It is important to say here that I do not think that my reflections above are a “magic formula” to wave over single peoples lives and hey presto they meet they future spouse. I just think I am truly blessed that God used my mess of a life to bring me to a place where I could be ready (well sort of) to be a husband and then introduced me to the perfect partner for me.

I don’t think the relationship I had prior to this one was evil and certainly not the woman involved. I just think it was not meant to be and one reason for that is that God wanted my wife and me to be together. Now that we are I can see why.

What all this means is I can see where I went wrong and I have repented of that. God has shown me where my attitude was way wrong in a lot of areas and I pray those involved will forgive me. I also pray I will have the humility to learn from my errors.

But as for now, I move on. I trust Him to see me through today and do not worry about tomorrow.

So now I am married, I will have to live by my opening statements and remember the sometimes pain and also joy that being single can be. I remain repentant of my prior attitudes to marriage. One thing I have learned is that LIFE is a blessing – not SINGLE or MARRIED life but life itself. Marital status is a part of that life and no matter what that or any other part of it may bring we must remember Who it is that gives life – God must come first. I hope I can now continue my married life in the correct attitude and remain that way. I don’t expect to be perfect, I expect to be imperfect. My wife doesn’t expect me to be perfect, she knows I’m not.

These events fell as I prepared to “celebrate” my 30th birthday. The day happened to fall during my holiday in Devon with my sister, brother in law and niece, Hannah (who was eight at the time).

I was a bit down on the day before my birthday – not at all because of my impending age increase but because I had actually been due to spend my birthday with my girlfriend and we had just broke up.

I was obviously upset although I now see the Lord’s hand in it – but we won’t go delving into that now. Suffice to say I felt pretty rotten as the day that I had so much looked forward to approached.

We were staying in a townhouse on the Devon coast and – true to British Weather standards – it had rained for the first six days of our holiday, in fact it rained so much that much of the area was flooded.

So on the morning of my birthday I awoke to see there were few clouds in the sky – praise God for small mercies, but I was feeling pretty much numb about the whole day. This frustrated me even more as I thought I should have been happy it was my birthday. At this point I heard some footsteps and then a knock at my bedroom door. I said “come in” and it was opened by Hannah who smiled and held up a small envelope and said “Happy Birthday”. I suppose something about my demeanour was transmitted on my face as she seemed to question whether she had said the right thing.

Deciding to put a brave face on it I smiled and held put my hand for the card. She brushed this aside and gave me a huge hug and then ran out the door. I called to her as like most children she normally likes to watch people open cards and gifts but she never came back. So I opened the card muttering something about how I may as well get on with it anyway.

Hannah had handpicked this card, on it was a picture of a little girl drawing a teddy bear, using her own as a model, she was holding her thumb up to the teddy – ‘artist style’. This touched me as I often have spent time with her helping to draw and paint, I am “artistically inclined” (that’s the phrase my sister uses anyway!) and her parents confess to “enjoying it but not being very good at it”. The fact that this was her choice of card here showed me that she treasured those moments as much as I did (her mother had bought her a different one to send me but she refused as she had seen this one in a local shop).

Already my heart was warmer and then I read the neat childs handwriting inside. I later found that she had not allowed her parents to read this, but inside the card was blank save a small “Happy Birthday” and she had written this

To Uncle Ryan I love you very much So much it makes me feel good inside love Hannah xoxox

The message itself was enough to warm my heart and I wondered what I had done to deserve such love. I asked her later in a sort of joking manner why she loved me. She had replied “because you are MY uncle Ryan”. The emphasis on the “my” intrigued me and so (suddenly forgetting my previous gloomy demeanour) I asked her why she had said that way. Her answer was one of the sweetest things I had heard.

In keeping with many of the children at our church Hannah has got into the habit of calling many adults “Uncle” and “Aunt”, especially those she sees quite often – it’s a sort of term of endearment I suppose. Hannah has always referred to me as “MY Uncle Ryan” – I just had never questioned it before. Anyway Hannah’s reason for the “MY” was so that I knew that I was HER uncle Ryan and that although other kids called me that and that she has other uncles, I was, to her, a “special uncle” and she wanted me to know it.

After this my birthday blues seemed to fade away.

Reflection

This got me thinking though, Christ said unless we “become as a little child…etc.” and maybe here is something we can learn from them.

Hannah hand picked that card because she knew I would understand the personal meaning behind it. She wrote it privately because she wanted me to know that it was from her alone, just for me. She put in the effort of ensuring her writing was neat and she put in the thought behind the emphasis that I should know I was HER uncle. And she didn’t care if I told nobody about any of it. In truth I already knew that physically I was HER uncle (she is my only niece) but she wanted me to know that SHE knew it too. It was done for me, not for her, not for anyone else, just me.

That is what really touched me and it was that sort of thing that I realised I did so little of for MY Jesus.

• Maybe I could, and should, try to touch His heart.
• Maybe I could try to show Him that I really do appreciate the time and effort he has spent with me.
• Maybe I could try and do what would please Him rather than live as if He were a “get out of jail free” card.
• Maybe I can put in that extra effort to ensure my “personal” time with Him is not crammed between oversleeping and being late for work.
• Maybe, instead of just reading the bible I could try to understand it and see how He wants me to apply it my life.
• Above all, maybe I could do it for Him, not me, not for anyone else to see, just Him.

Maybe you could too?

Now there’s a thought.

Offered in the Love of Christ Blessings Ryan