Transfiguration transfigured

If we are, as is often argued, created in the image of God, then embodied in this creation is an potential to experience all that God is.

In essence, when God became flesh in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, everything that He was in Himself, and displayed to the world, is in-built in us. And that includes transfiguration.

If we have viewed the transfiguration as recorded in the gospels as a ‘one-off’, abnormal, unique experience not only in time and space, but restricted to the Son of Man, perhaps we should re-assess transfiguration?

To begin, we must realise that as much as the three disciples permitted to be with Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration, were not transfigured, it was not Jesus alone whose clothes appeared to be whiter than white, but those belonging to Moses and Elijah also.

Could, therefore, anyone be transfigured? The answer surely is Yes, but it is not in our power to transfigure ourselves. The more recent misuse of the word ‘manifest’ has caused disarray among limited, broken, frail men and women who cannot accept the limitations of their own humanity.

The point is not whether we can switch transfiguration on or off as if we’re in control of our destiny – destiny measured in these next few minutes or as in life’s destiny in fulfilment of dreams or the grave. The point is that we carry in our ‘in-the-image-of-God-nature’ the normality of transfiguration in the same way that gentle poppy plants explode their seed pods, or Rousseau’s philosophy allowed him to moralize about children yet abuse his own, or that atheistic communism led to the rivers of blood of all who dared to oppose their dictatorships, or that the telescope led to Neil Armstrong’s ‘One small step for man…’ quote in 1969.

we carry in our ‘in-the-image-of-God-nature’ the normality of transfiguration in the same way that gentle poppy plants explode their seed pods

My contention is that we human spirit-mud-pies encounter transfiguration in the mundane. We have an unquenchable ability to glorify even the most cruel and tragic events in our history. Somehow, we recreate suffering as poetry, art, sculpture, song, and literature…in ways that please us to the core. Money changes hands and queues form at art galleries, theatres, or the daubed walls of the next Banksy.

This is as disturbing as it is it is not.

What is disturbing is, surely, that disturbance is displaced by beauty or pleasure, even exultant feelings and emotions and love. This morning, for example, the sun streamed through a twisted array of light brown branches stripped clean of buds, flowers, and fruits by winter. Somehow, my mind saw the twisted branches illuminated so beautifully as the crown of thorns pressed into the scalp of Jesus by Pilate’s aggressive guards during his arrest and interrogation. Even though the sun and the branches transported me to those terrible moments of pain, the sight itself was unexpectedly beautiful, and its beauty displaced the abhorrent cruelty.

I feel this has something to do with transfiguration – at least from our very human end of the telescope.

A similar example – and one well-worn argument – is decorative silver, platinum, gold, or wooden crosses worn as a necklace. A crucifix, of course, is an instrument of terrible public shame and grotesque torture…and yet we seem able to transform its evil, barbaric reality into an attractive object sold by the million.

There are limits to this innate transfiguration. It would be repellent and shocking if we wore models of silver or gold gas ovens of the Third Reich as mere trinkets.

Somehow, we have ‘unseen’ the equivalent cruelty of crucifixes.

When the two jets slammed into the Twin Towers on September 11th 2001 at 8.46 and 9.03 killing 2753 persons in New York, I watched a tv screen, like millions of others as the tragedy unfolded. I was teaching at the time and word rapidly spread amongst the staff. At break, we gathered in the staff room. No one spoke a word. And yet, I couldn’t remove the blue sky, the sunshine and the Manhattan skyline. A beautiful morning. I have never spoken about this. Why? Shame? Yes, a little. Did these feelings of beauty diminish my sense of the horror? Not at all. But when I remember 9/11 I cannot separate the colours from the killing.

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Perhaps we can make sense of this as we return to the New Testament accounts of the Transfiguration in Matthew 17, Mark 9, and Luke 9.

Whereas Matthew and Mark’s account infer the nature of the conversation between Jesus, Moses and Elijah, Luke’s states it plainly:

‘Two men talked with Him, Moses and Elijah who appeared in glory and spoke of His departure which He was about to accomplish in Jerusalem.’

In Matthew and Mark, Jesus speaks to Peter, John, and James – the disciples he took with Him to the mountain:

‘The Son of Man is…about to suffer at their hands’

We are presented with a juxtaposition of glory and suffering. The whiter-than-white glory and the utter defeat of death itself in resurrection rammed up against the impending cruel death on a cross at the hands of the Romans. The New Testament does not permit us to separate the glory of the Transfiguration from the nails hammered through the wrists and feet of the Son of Man.

Anglicans recite these words every Sunday:

‘I believe in one Lord Jesus Christ…who for us men and our salvation came down from heaven…and was made man, and was crucified for us under Pontius Pilate, He suffered and was buried and the third day he rose again…and ascended into heaven’

What God did in the Transfiguration of Jesus, Moses, and Elijah and the resurrection and ascension of Jesus none of us can ‘manifest’ by an act of our will. Nevertheless precisely because God did, it follows that there are at least some echoes of Transfiguration in our human make-up, created as we are in the image of God.

The New Testament does not permit us to separate the glory of the Transfiguration from the nails hammered through the wrists and feet of the Son of Man

So we should not be surprised to find suffering and glory closely related. Nor should we dismiss their co-existence by resorting to condemnation or guilt. That desire to convert a crucifix into jewellery is perhaps a mirror image of God’s willingness to transfigure Jesus prior to His suffering and the death He was destined to accomplish…His ‘departure’.

Lastly, perhaps another important lesson from all three accounts is to come to terms with the contrast between the Transfigured Jesus, Moses, and Elijah and the stumbling, awkward reactions of the other trio – Peter, John, and James.

This side of death, moments of transfiguration will always – it seems - take us by surprise.

Ecclesiastes – not for the faint-hearted

I’m reading through Ecclesiastes…it’s better read with a Monty Python smirk and a smile, as if humour itself is the only comfort blanket remaining that can disguise the relentless realism and gloom: ‘Looking on the Bright Side of Life, it is not.

This morning I read a verse that halted me in its tracks, and I suppose I’m using this post as a first attempt to grapple with its stark simplicity, to put it into a test-tube and analyse the death out of it.  

‘If you see the oppression of the poor, and the violent perversion of justice, and righteousness in a province, do not marvel at the matter, for high official watches over high official, and higher officials are over them’ 6 v 8 

Tradition points the finger at Solomon as the author. Whether he was or was not is inconsequential; the Hebrew title suggests that the author was a speaker who had the authority to call a congregation together to listen to him droning on about vanity and how life ends the same for everyone, rich or poor, and that if you think differently, you’re ‘grasping for the wind’.

It is not the cheeriest book in the bible.

At first sight, this appears to support indifference

But the phrase in the verse about the oppression of the poor that struck me was ‘do not marvel at the matter’. At first sight, this appears to support indifference, as if nothing can or should be done to rescue the poor and the weak from the hands of the rich, powerful, well-healed thugs that run society.

If that were true it would be shocking.

No, that way is defeatist, and I have no doubt that Solomon – once the truth had emerged of the depth of the corruption ruining the poor in a particular province - would have acted decisively.

This happens today. In every society. As the author of Ecclesiastes in the ninth verse of his opening chapter: ‘There is nothing new under the sun’.

Sir William Macpherson used the memorable phrase ‘Institutional Racism’ in his report on the grossly inadequate investigation carried out by the Met into Stephen Lawrence’s murder: "The collective failure of an organisation to provide an appropriate and professional service to people because of their colour, culture, or ethnic origin. It can be seen or detected in processes, attitudes and behaviour that amount to discrimination through prejudice, ignorance, thoughtlessness, and racist stereotyping which disadvantage minority ethnic people.”

Whole provinces, Police forces, or…any hierarchical institution, can sink into corruption aided and abetted by the hierarchical power structures designed to lift up the least and the weakest, but rotten to the core.

Deep breath…let’s attempt to apply this verse to Israel-Gaza-Washington.

Hamas, in my opinion, has long since forfeited its legitimacy as a governing body. It did so by authorising and carrying out the despicable attack on unarmed citizens of Israel on October 7th 2023 at the Supernova Music Festival and kibbutzim, murdering over 1000 and kidnapping 250 taking them hostage; men, women, and children.

The only acceptable recourse for Hamas was to hang their heads in shame, return the hostages, and leave Gaza. Instead, they brought untold misery to the ordinary citizens under their control and the poor under their care, promising to repeat their attacks on Israelis inside and outside of Gaza, and continuing to war against the inevitable military response from the IDF.

But I am humbled by this verse in Ecclesiastes ‘Do not marvel at the matter’. What happened on October 7th should not surprise us. So deep has run the sense of injustice in the veins of ordinary Palestinians following the events in 1948 and the creation of the State of Israel that, I fear, so many have succumbed to an ever-narrowing set of options to resolve their grievances.

In the aftermath of World War II there were those in Britain that, due to their direct and indirect suffering, could not overcome their hatred for Germans and could no longer differentiate between the Nazis and Germans or Germany…after all, it was ordinary Germans that donned the uniform of the Wehrmacht, the Luftwaffe, the German Navy and the SS. Those, however, who lost the ability to make that distinction, died with bitterness running through their veins. Thankfully, most who opposed Nazi Germany were able to hate the Nazis but not all Germans and relations between GB and Germany were quickly restored, and the wound healed.

That, surely, is the only path ahead for Israel and Gaza.

Whether the Metropolitan Police Force has put its own house in order only time will tell. The world waits to see what can be done to rebuild Gaza and to build trust between Jews and Palestinians.

I don’t know whether it can be achieved. Hard-line Palestinians - and those chanting ‘From the River to the Sea’ on our streets - are calling for a One State solution – the replacement of Israel with a Palestinian State i.e. Jews out!

And hard-line Ultra-Orthodox Jews are calling for the expulsion of Palestinians from Gaza and the West Bank which they wish to rename as Judea and Samaria.

So entrenched are both sides with their respective hierarchical power structures firmly embedded by democratic elections

President Trump has waded in with customary bluster and shaken the world, seemingly adding Gaza to his shopping list of Greenland and Panama.

So entrenched are both sides with their respective hierarchical power structures firmly embedded by democratic elections (44% of Gazans voted for Hamas; 23% voted for Likud – Netanyahu’s party who formed a coalition government) that we must be as realistic as the writer of Ecclesiastes and ‘do not marvel’ if this stalemate continues with further outbreaks of devastating violence.

Is there any hope? Any light?

The following verse, chapter 5 verse 9, offers not only a relief from the apparent inevitability of v8 but presents a vision for the future:

‘The profit of the land is for all, even the king is served from the land’

We watch, maybe with more or less hope, as these cease-fire days build. Much depends on who is in charge and not only who but what sort of administration: one that does everything for the sake of ‘all’ Gazans and ‘all’ Israelis, or one that cares not a jot about the poor, preferring to line its own pockets, disguising its true intent by attempting once again to stir the devotion and sacrifice of its people through blood-lust, coercion and oppression.

Am I referring to Hamas, or Washington, or Jerusalem? I have my views. And it’s not from a journalistic perspective, or historical, or political perspective that I have had a go at putting these two verses from Ecclesiastes in my analytical test tube. If I lean close to that test tube, I can hear the sound of the reaction…the heavy sighs of lament.

In another place, St Paul wrote these words:

‘We do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered’

That seems to be an appropriate note to end on. God, the Holy Spirit, is not indifferent and through our inarticulate prayers perhaps we are more on course than we realise. Groanings, sighs, pursed lips, tears even – Jesus wept – maybe this is our vital contribution and may help to shift the whole picture from verse 8 to verse 9.

‘We do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered’

I hope so.

As I said at the start, Ecclesiastes is not for the faint-hearted. It tells the truth even if the truth is a hard pill to swallow.

Unmade Bed

Deep-seated frowns
Wrinkle the youngest brow
I mean young, less than two
That deep-seated frown
Just prior to pushing away
Another bowl of tasteless rusks

I cannot trace the trajectory
From the child to the adult
Booking into a plush hotel
But here, the frown returns
I stand still, sighing at the cocoon
That has swallowed my debit card

Here, I am sluiced down a river of time
Double de-clutched into reverse
Hard rammed; suddenly
I am five, or four once more
Clamped in a bed tight with sheets,
Blankets, eiderdowns…no duvet

A five-star constriction,
Bound, mummified and squeezed
Between cold white sheets
Barely daring to inflict a crumple or a crease
As if doing so would
Incur the wrath of an outside agency

This will not do!
And, clutching the folded coverings
I erupt, and tear it all away,
And dance on its grave
Like the warrior I am, ha!
Man shall not live by counterpane alone…

Now the lines creasing my skin
Stretched ever more loosely
Across my facial features
Are mostly from smiles,
Gone are the days of unmade beds
Perfection takes approximately 9 seconds

Dad-daughter 10K challenge 2024-2025…Post VI 05.02.25 97 Days until the Bristol 10K, 11th May, 2025

In not so many years gone by, the pre-weekend Premiership or European action was often preceded by press releases and short interviews with Sir Alec Ferguson playing mind games with the opposition.

Referring to Inzhagi before United played AC Milan, Fergurson said: ‘That lad must have been born offside’

My suspicion is that Rachel has been studying Fergurson. To quote: ‘Just got in from a 10K…not quite hit my PB but still under 55 minutes’

This was less than 20 minutes after I reported 27:50 for the Severn Bridge Parkrun last Saturday and feeling, for the first time in ages, that I was actually ‘running’ rather than telling my legs to keep moving.

Since Saturday though I have been conscious that the Bristol 10K is less than 100 days away and the last time I completed a 10K is tucked away in the mists of time. The weather, recently, has been relatively benign: dry, cold, still mornings. Ideal for me. So, I’m inserting this blog today as I believe that R maybe, if she reads it, beginning to feel the pressure of her, now, 67-year-old Pa’s determination to prepare well, and his commitment to the challenge by stepping up from 5 to 10K, albeit in chunks.

Run 1: Severn Bridge, Monday, 5 miles (6.3K), 6:30 min/km pace

Run 2: Severn Bridge, Wednesday, 8.77K, 6.08 min/km pace

At this rate of improvement, I will break the European Record by the end of the month and the world record by the end of April…this, of course, would be classed as ‘rude’, so I’m (i) keeping quiet and (ii) will artificially pace my improvements otherwise R may feel like throwing in the towel (NOT that this is a competition…as I have previously emphasized).

The inspiration for my modest improvement in distance and time has been mostly the weather, but I also want to give a shout-out to Frank Skinner’s Poetry Podcast which does a great deal of vital distraction work so I am less and less conscious of running and running out of breath as his melodious tone unveils one poet after another.

Other podcasts as well, but Frank Skinner’s has been my podcast of choice New Year.

LOOKING AHEAD: Rachel has been recording her own Believing In podcast…due to hit the airwaves…watch this space …meanwhile, have a listen to previous episodes Believing In

Flowers

You stand there with half-flowers
Hidden behind your back
One eye glistening, the other
Flooded with immeasurable joy

Whilst I fuss and chatter
Battering you with
Requests I think you’d
Like to grant me

Exhausted by your silence
Eventually
After decades
I stop talking

And look up
And see your glistening eye
And the other, an ocean
For me to swim in

Only then can you surprise me,
A man, with flowers, half-flowers
Dressed in colours I’d never seen
Some already gone to seed

You hold them out to me
Silent me. Before I take them
I close my eyes and bask
In scents from another world

Then, I take the flowers
And wonder about the seeds?
And finally, I know
What lies there, behind your eyes

Book Review: Banshee, Lindsay Rumbold, Resolute Books

‘We’ve found out what Banshee is,’ Booth switched her gaze between the two men. ‘Are you ready for this?’
Woods frowned. Alex exchanged a glance with him. ‘As we’ll ever be.’

Flight Lieutenant Alex Farnsworth finds himself ordered to investigate an unidentified body recently unearthed by site developers in a bunker on a decommissioned RAF site in Warwickshire; RAF Martinford. Early in the investigation, it is established that RAF Martinford had been used as a base for testing modifications to Vulcan bombers in the early 1960s. As Vulcan bombers were designed to carry nuclear bombs, Banshee plunges us back into the tensions of the Cold War era.

Published by Resolute Books (www.resolutebooks.co.uk)

All the above is established in the opening two chapters; the sense of intrigue and jeopardy in Banshee builds inexorably from start to finish.

On a personal note, I loved being taken back into the world of these monstrous flying wings and the inner workings of an RAF squadron less than twenty years since the end of WWII. Banshee transports us back to the secretive world of the nation’s nuclear deterrent force, the camaraderie, trust, and conflicts between ground and aircrew, and it all conspires to reconnect the relatively sophisticated twenty-first century with what has and what has not changed in the sixty intervening years. Like many boys, I spent a good deal of my time assembling Airfix models of Spitfires, Lancasters, Messerschmitts, and the American and British fighter planes and bombers of the 1960s and 1970s, including Vulcan Bombers, but this was the first RAF novel I’d read for decades, and it didn’t disappoint.

Rumbold has skilfully interwoven chapters set in 2022, with Alex Farnsworth leading the investigation with the assistance of various experts and the close attention of Quentin Ponsonby from the security forces, with chapters dealing with the events of 449 Squadron at RAF Martinford in 1964.

1964 Austin Healey 3000

Throw into the mystery of an unidentified body, forceful personalities, conflicts of loyalties, an Austin-Healey 3000, and a Rover 2000, hints of a romance, and the role of secret services, and you may think Banshee is an excuse for a James Bond-style romp into the world of post-War international espionage – but you’d be wrong. What you will find, is a carefully constructed story with believable characters and circumstances that retain the excitement of a well-researched Cold War thriller without conforming to over-egged fantasies or becoming bogged down in unnecessary technical detail.

I was as caught up in the tragic events of 1964 with 449 Squadron as I was with Alex Farnsworth’s 2022 investigation with Quentin Ponsonby. I like a good plot and a riddle to solve, but Rumbold’s characters in Banshee also serve as a close study of human beings under immense pressure: their motivations, hopes, fears, and longings are all smuggled into its pages successfully without intruding on the plot.

I’ve only seen one Vulcan bomber in flight; an unforgettable experience as it roared up from low altitude, climbing at 6000 ft per minute leaving the ground and air around me shaking and rumbling and my ears battered. Banshee reminded me of that display of awesome power.

Banshee is published under Resolute Books (www.resolutebooks.co.uk) and is a must read.

A Bus Journey

Top deck affords its randomly selected members
With eyes from steamed-up windows
One wipe with the back of a finger
Restores sight to view the world below

Two women, smiling, hug on the high street
A lady transported by the book she is reading
A man, impaired by less of a knee than when he was young
Making his way, shopping in a rucksack slung

And I, earbuds in, listening to a podcast:
Deitrich Bonhoeffer’s imperfect
But uniquely courageous
Opposition to the Nazi horror

Makes me wonder if I have eyes to see?
I wipe the window one more time
There is the departed Waterstones,
Its logo not quite brushed clean off

It’s raining icy splinters now
The rain gurgling its way to open drains
Each raindrop making a soft landing
The cold gnawing at my bones

The awkwardness of us in the rain
Dipping into pockets and wallets
Deep inside large cumbersome coats
Searching for library cards, bus passes, phones…

And a young man slumped on the seat
Leaning down to re-tie his wet
Unusually wide, very white Converse laces
All of us, heads down, quieter than usual

In Bristol we say ‘Thank you, Drive’
Then it’s off, following the feet
Of the one who alighted before,
Carrying two books, hidden from the rain

I stop at the corner shop, the owner’s Alsatian
Objects to me spending money
Always gives me a fright
Home now, book open, dry trousers on

Dad-daughter 10K challenge 2024-2025…Post Five 21.01.25 Hot on the heels

Less than a week after comparing our slightly different approaches to winter-training, I have a significant development to report.

First, I am cock-a-hoop. Having almost convinced myself that further training was resulting in a downturn of results and that running in the winter was overrated, I set out again to attempt a Saturday morning 5K Parkrun up and down the Severn Bridge.

Result: 28:32 whereas my previous 5K had been in excess of 30 mins.

Not wishing to shock Rachel to the core, I held off telling her for…Ooo…at least twenty minutes.

Not long afterward I heard a WhatsApp bleep and prepared myself to be understanding if Rachel’s thinly veiled congratulations sounded as if lasting psychological damage had occurred and she was now regretting lazing by the pool in Porto.

Here’s the message: Followed by two texts…

What?!!

The two texts: “NEW PB” and “54:13”

In summary: Rachel ran twice the distance and 17 secs per km faster than her old man whilst I was waiting, politely, to share my good news.

Suffice to say that it is Rachel who is cock-a-hoop. I’m off to the gym. This is getting serious – not that we are in competition, I should add. Oh no.

Socks of Merino Wool

Trump is in the White House
Musk is on the Moon
Washington at minus nine
Did a chill travel down
Your left-wing spine
Or are your feet a-dancing
Your heart full of hope
As we walk into the future
Along an uncertain
Political tightrope?

There’s Gaza to rebuild
Hostages to repair
Putin to, frankly, stop
Ukraine’s wounds to heal
From years of bloody warfare
And let’s not forget
We were all slaves in Egypt
Refugees in a foreign land
So let’s give our neighbours
An open heart; a helping hand

Yes, Trump is in the White House
And Musk is on the Moon
It’s time for a cup of tea
We’ve made it thus far
We’ve made it to noon
And I’ve made a decision
To celebrate life to the full
To fill my glass with bubbles
Wear socks of Merino wool
And sing the praises of the King
And good old John Bull.

Dreaming

Vivid, well known
Characters to me
Fully fitted with souls
Personality, accents
Particular clothing
Walk onto my dream-stage
Without permission -
Not exclusively at night -
With stories to tell

When my defences
Are off-guard
Like Nathan the prophet
Illuminating the
Silver and the spiders’ webs
Treasure and trip wires
The whole truth
And nothing but the truth
Is acted out around me

Insecurities exposed
Failures examined
Sins confessed
Fears faced
Sadness
Hopes
And dreams
Unspoken prayers
Strutting and fretting

Colourful performances
Formed in less time than the
Flickering of an eyelid
Persisting for hours, often,
Evaporating in seconds
Characters retreating
Beyond some thick curtain:
Rarely stopping to take a bow

Dad-daughter 10K challenge 2025…Post Four 15.01.25 Winter Training methods: Porto v Press-ups, Botox v Blaise

Of course, we’re told to think ‘there’s no right and wrong, just different’ ways to prepare for an athletic showdown…but I’ll leave you to judge whether ‘my’ truth is preferable to Rachel’s.

Over the course of the last month, the weather in Bristol and London has been wintry, cold, grey, and often wet. And dark.

One can react in several ways to inclement conditions. I’m not sure why, but if I’m out of the sack at 5 or 6, everything seems equally impossible – so going for a run is just as unappealing as anything else.

Before I know it, I’m decked out in high viz t-shirt, headgear, shorts over leggings, trainers and socks, gloves, and, heater on in the car, I’m gone, driving down to the flat-ish route around Bristol Harbourside or the more local, Blaise, and after some leg-swings and lunges, I’m off, podcast selected for a pre-dawn 5K.

Then back, shower, tea, and fuss around with Strava to record my efforts.

Rachel’s methodology – remember the showdown is later in the year as we attempt a 10K – has been, shall we say, alternative?

Strava tells me I recorded 12 runs or walks in December and, thus far in January, 3 runs and a few walks. My most recent Harbourside 5K took 30:03 minutes and the one completed on Nov 26th – 29:39.

Yes, that’s right, despite the commitment to ‘training’ I’m getting slower.

Meanwhile, I’ve noticed that Rachel has kept very quiet about her winter training. When I spoke to her a few days ago to see if she was heading out for a run – on a rare sunny day – her reply was ‘I wanted to go for a run this weekend, but I had my Botox done on Friday and they advise you not to do any strenuous exercise for a couple of days’.

And before that, a previous weekend exchange of WhatsApps revealed that, due to the weather, work, and why not, Rachel had relocated to a posh hotel and was relaxing, reading a book, cocktail in hand, lounging around beside an outdoor infinity pool in sunny Porto.

I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions.

Wrong End of the Telescope? Via Dolorosa

From a child’s perspective, there is no wrong end of a telescope or binoculars…they are just playing and enjoying the world close up and far away.

A few years ago, at Easter, I spent a week travelling around Israel. After an evening in Jerusalem, I embarked on a tour, thanks to a friend-cum-guide, first to Philippi then up to the Golan heights and a couple of nights in Galilee, before driving down the Jordan Valley, floating in the Dead Sea, and back to Jerusalem, to spend a few days wandering round the old city.

Whilst walking through the narrow streets I got caught up in a surge of tourists and devotees following the Via Dolorosa, the Way of The Cross, or the Way of Suffering. Some groups were wearing the same-coloured hats or in a group trying to keep the flag on a pole leader in view. The procession, organised by the Catholic church, attracted maybe a thousand walking from one ‘Station of the Cross’ to the next, supposedly following the route taken by Jesus, from the site of his arrest and interrogation to the crucifixion, and burial. Some traditions add a further ‘station’ to celebrate the resurrection.

What has this to do with telescopes?

And why is a good Protestant believer bothering to write a blog about the Stations of the Cross – normally the reserve of Catholics or the Orthodox?

Often we see the events that took place from one end of the telescope…but there is another end and perspective on the stations of the cross.

In short, the ‘normal’ way for believers is to go beyond weeping over the injustice of his arrest and conviction and suffering to believing that Jesus as the Messiah (or Christ) went to the cross for us, in our place, taking the punishment we deserved, so that we, the guilty, could be forgiven and acquitted before God.

Isaiah among other Jewish prophets had seen these events in advance:

‘He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief…surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows…wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon him…he poured out his soul unto death and bore the sin of many’ Isaiah 53v3-12

This end of the theological telescope is referred to as substitutionary atonement. Substitutionary because He died on the cross instead of me, the judgement I deserved He took upon Himself on the cross. And atonement, because the result of this debt being paid on my behalf is our broken relationship with God is healed, so we are at-one-ment with God.

When I first heard this message of grace – that God loves us and all this is freely available, all God wants is for us to believe and receive it as a gift; to abandon (repent) of any attempt to try and be good enough for God. I used to say ‘This is too good to be true. There must be a catch?’ But there isn’t. Jesus said, ‘Freely you have received freely give’.

God has shown His love for us sending His Son to die for us and be raised to life again so that we can be forgiven and brought back into a relationship with God – the bible calls this the gift of eternal life. ‘Life’ or ‘Zoe’ in Greek, means God’s own life, which is eternal and indestructible.

Substitutionary atonement as wonderful as it is, is half of the gospel message; the good news that Jesus preached.

The New Testament teaches that once someone has let go of their own life and trusted that Christ died in their place and experienced the gifts of forgiveness and eternal life, they are placed ‘in Christ’ - Christianity is not a human being believing in an external Christ.

This is a phraseology not well understood in our Western culture. The Bible is interested in who we are ‘in’. For example, Levi was said to have been ‘in the loins of Abraham’ ie a descendant of Abraham, or ‘in Abraham’ and therefore everything that Abraham did, Levi did. So, when Abraham paid tithes to Melchizedek, Levi paid tithes to Melchizedek, even though as a priest he was used to receiving tithes.

‘Levi, who received tithes, paid tithes through Abraham…for he was in the loins of Abraham’ Hebrews 7v 9,10

Jesus taught that, as believers we would be ‘in Him’ just as He was ‘in’ the Father.

‘Do you not believe I am in the Father and the Father in Me…the Father who dwells in me does the works’ John 14v10,11

And later, in the same chapter Jesus continues:

‘The Spirit…will be in you…a little while longer and…you will know that I am in my Father and you in Me, and I in you’ John 14v 17,20

‘If anyone loves me, he will keep my word and my Father will love him and We will come and make our home with him’ v 23

The apostles that followed Christ preached the same message that as believers we are ‘in Christ’ and ‘Christ is in us’ and therefore we were included in all the events from the arrest to the cross and the resurrection – we were not spectators.

Substitutionary atonement as wonderful as it is, is half of the gospel message; the ‘good news’ that Jesus preached

This is called ‘inclusive atonement’ and is the teaching of the New Testament alongside substitutionary substitution.

Traditionally, there are 13 ‘stations of the cross’ marking steps along the journey of Christ from arrest to burial. There are minor variations from tradition to tradition and most do not include Resurrection. I shall concentrate on the stations in bold.

Jesus is arrested and condemned to death
Jesus takes up his Cross

Jesus is stripped of his garments and nailed to the Cross
Jesus dies on the Cross

Jesus is laid in the tomb
Resurrection

He suffered all these ‘stations’ for us and did it alone and yet, by virtue of being ‘in Christ’ we were included and participated in these events, 2000 years ago in Jerusalem.

You were arrested by Christ
You were stripped and nailed to a cross
You died
You were buried
You were raised

Arrested

For many who become believers, or come to Christ, or ‘find faith’ - whatever phrase is used - their experience is like an arrest.

Paul wrote the following words: ‘Not that I have already attained or am already perfected, but I press on that I may lay hold of (arrest) that for which Christ Jesus lay hold of (arrested) me’ Philip 3v12

Famously, for Paul, he was ‘arrested’ on the road to Damascus. No two believers hadve the same experience and yet each one is like an arrest…even is it is with love!

Stripped and nailed to the cross

The disciples had to let go of their nets to follow Christ – stripped of their identity as fishermen. We have to let go of the nets ‘nets’ we’re holding on to, is we are to follow Christ.

Nailed to the cross – ‘I have been crucified with Christ’ Gal 2v20. At first sight, this may seem to make no sense at all, after all, you weren’t even born in AD30, but just as Levi paid tithes to Melchizedek by virtue of being ‘in Abraham’ so it is true to say ‘I was crucified with Christ’ because God has placed us ‘in Christ’.

Through or ‘of God you are in Christ Jesus’ 1 Cor 1v30

Died

‘As many as were baptised into Christ Jesus were baptised into His death…our old man was crucified with Him…we died with Christ’ Rom 6v3,6,8

‘It is not I who live, but Christ…’ Gal 2v20

‘You died, you life is hidden in Christ’ Col 3v3

The New Testament cannot be clearer. Our death has been accomplished in Christ, past tense. When he died, I died.

Buried

‘We were buried with Him through baptism…’ Rom 6v4, Col 2v12

Raised

‘God…raised us up together with Christ’ Eph 2v6

The New Testament speaks about conversion to Christ as a shift - a deliverance - from ‘in Adam’ to ‘in Christ’.

In Adam, we ate from the wrong tree, with all the consequences that followed – estrangement from God, each other, and the environment…a disintegration.

In Christ, we inherit everything Christ has done and therefore we were included in the events leading up to the crucifixion, the crucifixion itself, the burial, and the resurrection, and are now recipients of Christ’s life.

We can do nothing to achieve this. Christ has done for us what we could not do for ourselves. The in-Adam-you was arrested, crucified, and buried only to be raised as a new creation, as an ‘in-Christ-you’ - Christ living out His life through you and as you.

The Telescope?

From an adult’s perspective, there IS a correct way to hold the telescope, and this is where this metaphor breaks down! Both ends are vital.

A warning. Once you ‘see’ both perspectives everything changes.

A well-used illustration of Paul’s argument in Romans is of a criminal in the dock facing the Judge, awaiting the verdict. There is no doubt that the criminal is guilty, let’s say of theft. The penalty is a fine that he cannot pay. All seems hopeless until the judge tells the criminal he is free to go; someone paid the fine. There is nothing the thief can do to pay the fine, it’s already paid, nor is he required to pay the fine.

Wonderful though that is, it acquits the criminal but doesn’t change his nature.

With substitutionary atonement, our sins are forgiven, the slate wiped clean, but the sinner remains. You will hear the following types of sentences fall from the lips of those who cling to substitutionary atonement: ‘I am covered over with the robes of righteousness’, or, ‘when God looks at me, He doesn’t see me, He sees Jesus’ or ‘I am a sinner saved by grace’.

Lurking in these phrases is fear: ‘If God were truly to see me hiding under the robes…’ but the gospel is far better.

Substitutionary and inclusive atonement together enables us to see that God has not only dealt with our ‘sins’ He has dealt with us as ‘sinners’, crucifying us on the cross with Christ. We are no longer in Adam we are in Christ. We are no longer deriving our life from the satanic hold of slavery to sin in Adam but starting out on a new path, a new life, drawing on the life of Christ Himself, incorporated as we are ‘in Christ’, learning to walk like Jesus did, not in His own abilities or strength, but from the Father’s:

‘The Son can do nothing of myself but what He sees the Father do, the Son does in like manner…I can do nothing of myself’ John 5 v 19, 30

‘I am the vine, and you are the branches, He who abides in Me and I in him, bears much fruit, without Me you can do nothing’ John 15v5

Coffee#1 Cold Friday

Writer, scarf, laptop
Flat white, tumbling syllables
Biscoff cheesecake joy

The Illusion of Control

https://morethanwriters.blogspot.com/2025/01/the-illusion-of-control.html

This article is my monthly post for the More Than Writers blog which is the blog for the Association of Christian Writers (ACW)

The Illusion of Control?

I do like a good optical illusion. The brain can’t always compute. Perhaps we should rethink the illusion: our brain’s penchant for creating 3D images from 2D drawings, is surely the most impressive illusion?

It appears that the somewhat combative relationship between imagination and illusion also holds true with writing.

I’m sure it must be the case – except for ardent atheists – that even the word ‘author’ is a troublesome term. So many novelists, poets, lyricists, and playwrights are only too willing to acknowledge that their ideas seem to arrive from without rather than from within.

Our imaginations seem to be in a perpetual partnership with an external source. Whilst I still struggle with the ridiculousness that God the Holy Spirit, let alone anyone else, might pay the slightest attention to my writing…when I come to think about it, that is exactly what I believe. It has become my new normal.

Moses had his burning bush. My most recent encounter with an ‘out of the blue inspiration’ was as thrilling as it was pitiful in comparison - an alliterative phrase ‘Dull, dreary, December’ which evolved into a humorous poem with a dash of hope.

But here’s the essence of my question: has anyone else encountered the same ‘heavenly editor’ interrupting your best-laid authorial plans? A few weeks ago I settled down to write the sequel to a historical novel (which will be (!) flying off the shelves later in 2025). The plot was clear, and I had my well-developed characters and protagonist from Book 1, so, I knew what I was doing, I just needed the discipline to get it written.

Two weeks in, a terrible thought snuck into my consciousness, ‘No, John. You are writing Book 3, not Book 2. Book 2 should take you West, not East.’ I ignored this irritating thought and tried to shoehorn its ideas into ‘my’ Book 2…but, like all authors when faced with an implacable editor, I eventually acquiesced and went West.

I conclude, therefore, that I am not in control. A little like using a Sat Nav. I still have the steering wheel, the brakes, the heater, and the sound system…but the navigation system I have grown not only to trust but enjoy. It takes me along unplanned routes.

Remembering Autumn

It’s easy to look on
Ice covered windscreens
And frost-laden rooves
And dream of direct hits
Heat from the summer sun

And forget Autumn
That prelude
Before gloves, hats, and
Black tights favoured
By cold-averse runners
Are standard wear

Tilted forwards, our minds
Require a jolt to plunge
Into the past to
Be reabsorbed by
Whatever was witnessed there

Morning: minus 3
To rid the car of grime
Winter filth in my sights
Steaming soapy water
And I advanced:
Harbingers of Spring

Instead, I stumbled upon
Autumn
Sycamore seeds lodged
In every crevice, sleeper
Spies in a foreign land

The past, lest we forget,
Has a potency…
…I reached in and slung
Each tawny spy
Away with the grime:
Forbidden fruit

A Walk in South Wales

Route: Dragon’s Back to Waun Fach, a circular walk

Weather: perfect January day, 4oC, mostly still, full sun, frosty/icy/slippery in parts.

Time: set off at 10.30, one tea break after an hour (tea + dark choc nut bar), one lunch break (tea, cheese/jam sarnie), various photos along the route, finished at 1.45. Just over 3 hours.

Home: cold beer, Walkers Thai Sweet crisps

Notes: small carpark about half full already by 10.30. Such a beautiful day, so no surprise that there were about ten other cars in car park. £5 suggested donation to honesty box. And off on the clockwise route up, down, up, down, up Dragon’s Back, stopping for photos occasionally and a ten-minute tea break. Then up to the summit of Waun Fach – second highest peak in S Wales – and down to a saddle. Turn right and down for a long walk back to the car park.

After dull December days, a treat

Others: a few family groups often with a happy dog, mostly pairs of walkers (about 1 in 10 were using walking poles), all in proper hiking gear, only one fella seemed to be determined to walk fast, a group of fell runners. Long gaps between walkers so there was plenty of time away from crowds.

First tea stop

Lunch stop

Walk down

Dreary December

Dreary, dull December
Grim, grey skies
Bad as beige,
Shadowless, sunless,
Mushroom-soup-like
A miasma of mizzle

I cry out for contrails
Or blustery blizzards
I burst out and bellow
For January blue-sky bliss,
For wandering in the woods
In well-worn wellies

And filling my fingers with
Pure spotless snowballs
Then shall I submit:
Arrest my alliterations
Stop my stooping, and
Pause my petulant pen

Happy New Year!

What should we do? Tomorrow – Sunday 29th December 2024

The trouble and the joy of living in England is that the particular tensions that lie bubbling beneath the surface like some almost extinct volcano, provide a constant supply of material for us to moan away to our heart’s content.

Like the miserable Steptoe and his ever frustrated more ambitious son ‘Arold, in Steptoe and Son, we are never quite as happy as when we’re disgruntled. Or the impossible relationship between Basil Fawlty and Sybil, and Manuel; we thrive on dysfunction.

Into such a society riven with division came Jesus.

The issues of rich v poor, toffs v working class, private v state schools, and more distantly, church v chapel, are still as present as they ever were…just scratch a little and they come roaring back.

One of the reactions to all these divisions is to try and ignore them, disengage, pour disdain ‘on the lot of ‘em’, and blame the government for everything from the state of the roads to the length of a Mars Bar. Just so long as we don’t take too close a look under the bonnet, at home, or at ourselves.

Into such a society riven with division came Jesus.

You could join various groups in Jesus’ day:

• the very popular Pharisees were offering a recovery of a very ordered society full of Mosaic law and associated traditions and the promise of resurrection and heaven for the righteous

• or you might be drawn to the highbrow Sadducees who were more concerned with social justice here and now rather than life after the grave

• or you could head for the hills and join the Zealots: ‘terrorists’ to the Romans and ‘freedom fighters’ for Jews who wished to overthrow the Roman oppressors and create an independent state of Israel

• or try the Essenes, looking for a spiritual kingdom of God to arrive

On top of these groups were the hierarchical leaders of the Sanhedrin, Chief Priests, scribes, the Herodian Kings, and the Roman occupiers; Pontius Pilate being the governor.

Or you might opt to stay out of trouble in the North and catch fish.

But Jesus’s message couldn’t have been simpler: ‘Repent and believe, the kingdom of God is at hand’.

We do need to unpack this a little as the words carry all kinds of baggage twenty-odd centuries later. ‘Repent’ means change your mind and your thinking, it’s a complete 180-degree change to face in a different direction - the kingdom of God isn’t confined to the future or the past it is ‘at hand’ – i.e. within reach, it’s now.

Jesus’s message couldn’t have been simpler: ‘Repent and believe, the kingdom of God is at hand’

Jesus went on and demonstrated the reality of the kingdom in his own life, the way he lived and taught and his relationship with God, calling Him, Abba, Father. Actually, Abba is a closer term, almost Daddy. It’s certainly a term of deep respect and affection, of endearment. And from that relationship with his heavenly Father and the Holy Spirit, he taught memorable parables and performed miracles. He also warned the Pharisees that they were ‘blind leaders of the blind and they will end up in the ditch’.

He trained disciples who had repented and believed that the kingdom had arrived in the person of Jesus, and they too were transformed and began to live out the same life, performing miracles, and caring for the least.

After the crucifixion, resurrection, and the baptism of the Spirit at Pentecost, Peter stood up to preach the first sermon of the church. What would he say?

Pretty much what Jesus preached.

This should not surprise us and yet it does…particularly if our church experience has as much in common with Jesus’ message of the ‘kingdom of God now’ as the Pharisees had in common with Jesus, steeped as they were in rules, laws, and tradition.

Peter brought his sermon to a conclusion with a few words in answer to a question ‘What shall we do?’

‘Then Peter said to them, Repent, and let every one of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ (Christ means Messiah, it’s not a surname), for the forgiveness of sins, and you shall receive the Holy Spirit, the promise is to you and your children, all however far away, as many as the Lord our God will call’ Acts 2 v 37-39

This is what we should be preaching now: the three keys needed to enter the kingdom of God, now:

1. Repent

2. Be baptised and be forgiven for your sins

3. Receive the gift of the Holy Spirit

The disciples had to leave their nets to follow Christ. If Jesus is calling you, you will know what you have to ‘leave’ in order to ‘repent and believe’ and follow.

Because I grew up in England and had been baptised/christened as a baby, I had a choice after repenting and believing later in life. My choice was to be baptised as a believer, to express my newly found faith, rather than rely on my infant baptism. Others choose differently. Let the Holy Spirit lead you.

From that moment on the Holy Spirit will lead you, teach you, prompt you, guide you, be like a river within you, correct you and convict you if and when you get lost, and call you into whatever the King wants you to do and be to others. He will also join you to others, and minister to you through them, some of whom will be apostles, or prophets, or pastors, or teachers, or evangelists, and administrators.

It won’t always be easy. Look how they treated Jesus; we shouldn’t expect to be treated any differently, so expect opposition, social exclusion, and different forms of persecution. But remember one thing: you’ve been given a gift. You didn’t earn it through trying to live a godly life. The godly life, the life of God, the eternal life, has been given to you as a gift. As Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans, ‘nothing can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus’.

That’s enough to get started.

Unwanted Stone

It’s hard - moving house
That dialogue with yourself
To discard, to abandon to the past

The marks you made
The log burner, the
Handles on kitchen doors

Grey paint imperfectly slapped
Or forgotten shoes gathering dust
Under the bed

But leave behind you must
If, where you are going
Is smaller, narrower, more focussed

Puts a sculptor’s chisel
Into your hand, moving
A necessary circumcision of

Unwanted stone
Unveiling what perhaps
Was there all along

Book Review: Light Force, Brother Andrew and Al Janssen, Hodder & Stoughton (2008)

‘Who do you know in Hamas?’ Abdul asked.
’I have met with Sheikh Yassin [the founder and spiritual leader of Hamas]’
‘What do you wish to discuss?’ His pirecing gaze was unrelenting.
‘I represent Christians in Holland and the West…I would like to know his thoughts about the Palestinian situation.’

That remarkable conversation between Brother Andrew and the leader of Hamas took place in Gaza in 2001 in the aftermath of the second intifada (Arabic for uprising); the first lasting from 1987-1993.

If I have one critical comment about Light Force it is this: the title. It feels sterile and impersonal whereas the book is all about personalities – the love of God and the person of Jesus Christ. But let’s move on – this is not a book to judge either by its cover or its title. It is a must-read.

Light Force has been a compelling book for (bedtime) reading in the run-up to Christmas. Many of its diary-like pages are devoted to further meetings with Palestinian Christians in Bethlehem and elsewhere in Gaza and the West Bank. It has been a gripping read, particularly so in the current terrible conflict between Israel and Hamas and Hezbollah as a consequence of the attack by Hamas on unarmed civilians at the Supernova music festival and kibbutzim including Be’eri Kibbutz on October 7th 2023.

Brother Andrew is well-known to many Christians for his other book God’s Smuggler which describes his conversion to Christ, and the miraculous healing of his crippled leg, and the subsequent story of how as a young man he dedicated himself to illegally transporting Bibles and Christian literature behind the Iron Curtain (often in a VW Beetle) to persecuted Christians living under atheistic communistic dictatorships in Russia, Eastern Europe, and China during the 1950s and 1960s.

Tension in the book is almost tangible as he finds extraordinary ways to meet with leaders from Hamas and Hezbollah

After the publication of God’s Smuggler, it was too dangerous to continue his travels to the Communist block but by then he had formed an organisation, Open Doors, to carry on the work. His focus then shifted to the Middle East and the conflict between Palestinians and Israel – and the Christian church existing on either side of the national divide.

Tension in the book is almost tangible as he finds extraordinary ways to meet with leaders from Hamas and Hezbollah – terrorist organisations dedicated to the destruction of Israel and the ‘liberation’, as they see it, of Palestine from Israeli occupation. The impressive core of the book, however, lies with his adventures with Jewish and Palestinian Christian believers and the influence he, and Open Doors, has had in strengthening the church in Israel and in Gaza and the West Bank, bringing Arab and Jewish believers together.

Readers of a certain age will remember Yassar Arafat, the leader of the Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO). Light Force records how Brother Andrew met with him, gave him a Bible, and asked for and secured permission and funding to open a Christian Bookshop in Gaza.

This book vividly explores the extraordinary faith and courage of Brother Andrew – but also of many others inevitably caught up in the conflict. It will take the reader inside the News, away from the headlines to a very different story.

A story well told - and one that deserves to be re-told.

Despite being written in 2008, it is as relevant in 2024 as it was when first published.