Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.

  
    

 When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

 John 8:11-13

On Christmas Eve some of us went to church. It was a candle service- we each held a lit candle and the lights were turned off. Miraculously, we all survived unsinged (even certain six year old girls). I was glad Harry wasn't there, he would have been scared, although on the other hand his light-up colour-changing millenium falcon would have looked amazing.

I've noticed the quotation in the title from Martin Luther King a lot this year, at least in my own little echo chamber. It's one that people seem to find helpful in the face of terrorism, conflict and political upheaval. The emails I get from Amnesty International and Global Citizen are full of this kind of language and imagery. Both are organisations that strive for justice, that aim to be a voice for the voiceless and to champion the most vulnerable in our world.

The problem I see, though, is that we seem to be trying to do Christianity without Christ. Martin Luther King was a Christian; for Christians, the light is not something to conjure up out of our own hearts, or something to strive for- he has a name. In this interview historian Tom Holland (not a Christian by the way) explains how the ideals that Amnesty and Global Citizen hold to- that each human life has worth and dignity, and that the weak and vulnerable matter- are fundamentally Christian. (Read his original article in the New Statesman here .)


Isaiah chapter 9, often quoted at Christmas, sums it up for me. A light has dawned on the people- it comes from outside, not from themselves- it brings joy, an end to conflict and a government of peace and justice- how? Unto us a son is born.


 The people walking in darkness
    have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness
    a light has dawned.
...
Every warrior’s boot used in battle
    and every garment rolled in blood
will be destined for burning,
    will be fuel for the fire.
For to us a child is born,
    to us a son is given,
    and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
    Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 
 Of the greatness of his government and peace
    there will be no end.
He will reign on David’s throne
    and over his kingdom,
establishing and upholding it
    with justice and righteousness
    from that time on and forever.
The zeal of the Lord Almighty
    will accomplish this.

Praise from a place of sadness

I feel like I'm watching a scary film from behind a cushion, saying 'tell me when it's all over.'  Except it's not fiction, it's the news.

I'm not the only one reeling with sadness, fear and anger tonight.

No prizes for guessing where I'm taking those feelings tonight.

To the God who created us - all- in His image

To the Father to the fatherless, the defender of the orphan and the widow, the champion of 'the least of these'

To the One who did not use his power to manipulate but gave up his majesty

To the Eternal One who will reign in perfect justice and rightness

To the One who will gather us from every nation and tribe and tongue into one people

To the One who says, 'I know, and I am on my throne'

To the teller of stories that broke down barriers

To the bringer of peace

To the one whose presence is like cloud on a burning hot day, like still after the storm, like peace after the deafening noise

He makes all things new

'Come let us go up to the mountain of the Lord...
He shall judge between the nations...
and they shall beat their swords into ploughshares...
O house of Jacob, come let us walk
In the light of the Lord.'
Isaiah 2

The hope of heaven on a Monday morning

The Monday Morning Blues reared their ugly head this morning. An exciting and busy weekend, and one tired boy who didn't want to go to school.

He wanted me to say he could stay off. I wasn't about to say that. We talked and we talked some more.

'I wish it was Saturday. It's my favourite day.'
'It's everyone's favourite, but we have to go through Monday to get there.'
'Why are weeks longer than weekends?'
'Well, you know, when we get to heaven, every day will feel like Saturday or Sunday.'
'It's not as good as being alive though.'
'What? It will be even better! Anyway, didn't you know, God is going to fix this world, put everything right. '
'When it breaks?'

'It's already got plenty of broken bits, like sickness (and Monday mornings.) '

I was challenged recently to think more about heaven - to daydream about it, let it capture my imagination, to analyse and question it: to consider it, like Paul apparently did, because he could say things like:
'I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us' ( Romans 8:18). Then there's 'for our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all' (2 Corinthians 4:17). If you're like me you want to say 'light? Momentary?! You're kidding, Paul.'  But then, you see, I think I'm too good at considering the wrong end of the equation. I need to daydream about heaven.

They say the best way to teach your children about your faith is to share what you are learning and living. So I decided to practise this with Alice. I grabbed a book called 'The Garden, the Curtain and the Cross' by Carl Laferton. It's a lovely children's story which outlines the story of the bible from beginning to end. The illustrations are gorgeous. The one I wanted was at the end - it depicts a garden, with a hill where a bright light shines. There are trees and flowers and a pathway. There's a man, dressed in gold, shining white, riding a horse, and he is calling his friends, dressed in white, to come in with him to the garden. In other words, it's a portrait of Revelation 21.

'Alice, come and look at this picture with me. Isn't it beautiful? Look, have you ever seen a picture of Jesus looking like this before?'

'No. He looks a bit like a duck because he's yellow.'

Bookworm

It is well known that I am a bookworm.

After Alice's last stay in hospital I decided to reread the Daisy Dalrymple books by Carola Dunn. I barely stopped till I'd read 20 out of 22 books. You've heard of binge-eating? Let me introduce you to binge-reading.

Back in the summer I reread C.S. Lewis's 'Surprised by Joy'. I like (most of) it for many reasons but one of them is seeing how much of his life he spent with his head in books; and how he read his way to faith in Christ, and how he used his words and his intellect and his imagination to have such an impact on so many people.

 I wonder if he liked whodunnits?

Every now and again I hear Dorothy L Sayers quoted in church: she was the author of the Lord Peter Wimsey novels, which I love. 

But they don't quote her novels. She was also a playwright, a poet, and a Christian evangelist, a very good one as it turns out. I particularly like the way she writes about the 'shattering personality' of Jesus. Here's a little taster courtesy of Google.  And I have set myself the challenge to be quoting from some detective novels on this blog soon. You're welcome. 

'It is the dogma that is the drama- not beautiful phrases, nor comforting sentiments, nor vague aspirations to loving-kindness and uplift, nor the promise of something nice after death- but the terrifying assertion that the same God who made the world lived in the world and passed through the grave and gate of death... they may not believe it; but at least they may realize that here is something that a man might be glad to believe.'

Dorothy L Sayers, Creed or Chaos?: Why Christians Must Choose Either Dogma or Disaster 

On not doing the housework

Housework is boring. It's a good job someone invented the title 'stay-at-home-mum' because 'housewife' will never really suit me. To liven things up I've been listening to Tim Keller's sermons online. It's a great way to get my head and heart full of God's word. (I've just realised how strange that sounds, the words 'liven up' and sermon in the same sentence, but honestly, they're not dry or dull, give them a try if you don't believe me!)

The more I study the Bible, the more I think about who Jesus is, the more I am blown away by how he loves. I was reminded the other day about how Jesus welcomed Judas into his company, taught him and loved him, ate with him, travelled with him, for years, right up till the betrayal.

Then, thinking about how Jesus says he forgives our wrongdoing- which he can only do if we are offending him, right? Which we are, if, as he says, he is God. So there he is, living side by side with us lot, for year after year, while all the time we are breaking his heart with our malice and pride and rejection. Then, he takes those very sins upon his back - literally, in the form of a cross.

If you want to know what it looks like for God to be 'slow to anger and rich in love', look no further.

http://www.gospelinlife.com/free-sermon-resource

For small pirates

     I lift my eyes to the mountains
     Where does my help come from?
     My help comes from the Lord,
     Maker of heaven and earth.
     Psalm 121

A while ago Dave got all Pinterest-y and made the kids a blackboard on the inside of the front door. It's the best thing in our house.

Harry had a bit of a wobble last week, going back to school after the holidays. Lots to worry about. I decided to write the above verses on the blackboard, where he could read them before going to school.

The thing is, he's been in character as a pirate for about three weeks now, so he wrote underneath 'and my treasure, and my stew and my slop.' (He's sure pirates eat stew, anyone know if it's true?!)

So I'm going with some wise words from a Colin Buchanan song instead. Harry is struggling with the idea that anyone could be the captain except him, but really, which one of us doesn't struggle with that?

Are you serving Captain Jesus? He's the master of the wind and waves
There's yo-ho-ho no other way in which you can be saved
Through scurvy, sharks and shipwrecks,
Through every storm and strife,
Sail on with Captain Jesus,
He's the treasure of your life.

PostScript: Harry came home from school today and asked if he could watch the 'Jesus Storybook Bible' on dvd- namely ' The Captain of the storm' and 'Treasure hunt'. So there we have it- the Bible message for pirates.

Did you know God sings?

The Lord your God is with you,

the Mighty Warrior who saves.

He will take great delight in you;

in his love he will no longer rebuke you,

but will rejoice over you with singing.

Zephaniah 3:17

He always shows up.

It seems God has decided that Alice's illnesses, especially her epilepsy, is where he is going to communicate most clearly with me. (Could it be that this is the one thing that has made me kneel, beg, wrestle, cry, seek and submit?) I have never had so many bible verses leap off page and screen, so many immediate assurances in my mind and heart in response to prayer, regarding anything else.

We had another ambulance ride and hospital stay recently. We are out of practice. I had forgotten how you draw on reserves of energy and strength you didn't know you had, then collapse afterwards.

Church friends were amazing. Alice could have had a party, we had so many offers of visits (except she was asleep for the best part of 3 days.) One friend tagged a bible verse onto her text- Zephaniah 3:17. 'Oh yeah,' I thought, 'the one about rejoicing and delighting.' And thought no more about it.

My wrestle this time, was how a girl who is so full of life and joy, and who spreads joy wherever she goes, could be loaded with so many health problems on her little shoulders. How, why, would God create such a precious child and allow so many struggles in her life?

I went to sleep (not an easy task on a hospital ward) still struggling in my heart with the dichotomy of joy and sorrow.

Now I am not someone who generally attributes my dreams to God. Oh, I believe he can communicate like that if he wishes, but I don't have a lot of experience of it. But I am sure I heard his voice in my dream- it was loud, insistent, reassuring, interrupting-  'I DELIGHT in her.'

You know all those bits in the bible that talk about experiencing joy in sorrow? And you think 'huh? How does that work?'

All I can say is, it does.

Thoughts on 'The A Word'

('The A Word' is a drama currently on the BBC based on a family whose son receives a diagnosis of autism.)

I like 'The A Word'. I wasn't sure I would. It's always a risk watching programmes about issues which are close to home.

I like the kid. My heart warms to him as he walks along that road with his chosen object of the day and his music. I've read criticism of the music thing, on the grounds that all fictional folk with autism have to have a 'thing', like rainman. But it makes sense to me that he would relate to language in that way. Harry's early use of language was all about learning and reciting songs and TV programmes.

I also love the way the dad relates to him through music. The received wisdom is that to build relationship you start by doing what they love to do (even if you don't know why they love to do it.) Although I once tried to get on an imaginary DLR train with Harry and was told to 'get the next one.'

I love the scenery and the grandad shouting at the top of the mountain and the allergy-mum, and I want to know what's going to happen next.

Still, having said all that, I didn't sleep too well after watching the first episode, thinking back to when Harry got his diagnosis (actually, the referral for the diagnosis, an actual diagnosis takes about a year).

The feeling in your stomach when the quirks and characteristics- and struggles- of your funny, charming child raise eyebrows in professionals, and become a list of symptoms. The realisation that these struggles are not going away any time soon.

With the suggestion that your child may be autistic comes a swift reevaluation of everything you hoped, even assumed, might be in your child's future: friends, relationships, a job, independence.

And no matter how annoying the mum may be, I recognised the disbelief, the denial, the 'I'll fix it all' attitude.

In time, the list of symptoms morphed back into my little boy. And the 'label' becomes a handy way to explain to the world why he struggles as he does, and usually gets him a bit more patience and compassion. But it took time to get to that place. In the crisis, the best friends to have around were not the ones who pointed out all the positives of diagnosis but the ones who recognised the heartbreak, with a packet of tissues and an 'I'm sorry.'

I'm glad the BBC have made a sensitive, engaging drama around this subject. I'm glad it's giving people a forum to talk about their own experiences.

I came across this interview with Christopher Eccleston, (the grandad in the show) by a lad with aspergers and a love of Doctor Who. I loved that Christopher Eccleston was the Northern Doctor. All planets have a north.

What I'm listening to

Some melodic haunting tunes from Hillsong. It's been a while since I listened to anything like this. The sound is beautiful, which is why I'm listening, the lyrics- beautiful but lacking a little depth. The video on youtube is full of young hillsongy-types, with long hair and eyes closed, singing about God leading them to places where their faith can grow, where they can learn to walk on water.

I look at those closest to me and I think 'it's more like- there, Lord, really? You're taking me there? Do we have to? You want to grow my faith like that? Well, if I have to, if you're sure- you may have to drag me..'

So I grab the hands of my friends and they grab mine, and they walk into their places-they'd-rather-not-go and I walk into mine, and- this is where the Hillsong lyrics get it right- we keep our eyes on our Saviour.

And I remember, a picture. Jesus, walking with his face set like flint, towards Jerusalem, towards ultimate suffering. For the joy set before him. For me. For us. The disciples, trailing behind, not understanding, saying 'Jerusalem, really?'

fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:2

'And they were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them.' Mark 10:32

Ad hoc

On the top of the bag was a pink quilt for a little girl.

Of course Alice wanted it. I explained that it was for another little girl, someone who needed it to keep her warm at night. 'What's her name?' Alice wanted to know. 'I don't know, but Jesus knows her name,' I replied, then said a quick prayer for the child who would receive it, there in the hallway as I dragged the bag in.

There are a couple of dog-eared children's bibles in our house, from when Harry was reading them every night with enthusiasm. (We've let it slide a bit since moving a sleeping sister in there.)  Not so with Alice. She's too tired and then there's her love of being contrary. If its something we want her to do, then she doesn't want to do it. It gets to me sometimes, that I struggle to have that quiet teaching time with her. But then I know she loves to do things for effect, like the 'I don't love you' game. (Her game, not mine.) She's even been saying it to Olaf the stuffed-toy- snowman to see if she can make him cry. So if she shouts through my prayers its not the end of the world, right?

Alice was my little pal on the latest refugee appeal. One day she came in the car with me to pick up some clothes, and chatted away. What was the name of the lady we were going to see and what were her children called? I don't know, I replied. 'Jesus knows their names', she said.

I got lost in the one way system in Limehouse. I always do. The satnav was not helping. 'I'll say a prayer for you, mummy.'

She loved asking me, ' what will the refugees say when they get the clothes?' 'Well, they'll say now we can stay warm. And they'll know someone was thinking about them and caring for them.'

'Yes. Jesus.'

She didn't miss a beat.

Lurking in the fruit aisle

I should be packing banana boxes. Or sleeping.

I'm going to get a reputation for lurking around the fruit and veg sections of supermarkets and hounding unsuspecting employees.* I saw a man carrying 4 banana boxes out of the shop and I nearly accosted him to find out what he was doing with those boxes and how he got that not-very-helpful supermarket to give him any and how come his boxes were so nice.** I had banana-box envy. Just call me the crazy banana box lady.

This week has been a bit overwhelming but in a good way. I've met so many strangers who turn up with clothes that they've carefully sorted, washed and packed, and they are so glad to have something practical to do. I had an email today from a man who wanted to donate £400-worth of nappies. I suggested perhaps half of that and a donation towards shipping. He agreed. I was at once astounded and encouraged by his generosity and a bit terrified about what £200-worth of nappies is going to look like. I'm guessing he doesn't just want to give money, although that is desperately needed. He wants to buy tons of nappies and drive them to my house.

And I'm glad. Because part of Samara's aim is to send practical aid that is also a message of love and support. I can feel it as I unpack and sort the donations. There is something very moving for me when I look at the photos of the banana boxes being taken to the people that need them. Will that box of clothes mean they are fed or find work tomorrow,  or next week or next month? No. But it does mean that in a world where people hate and rape and drive out and kill, others knit and shop and pack and drive and pray.


*Actually they are usually happy to help, and I am learning the names of all the staff in the local tesco.
**I wish I had spoken to him because he was very likely doing what I'm doing and if so I'm very glad.

www.samarasaidappeal.org