The London Marathon: The Great Suburban Everest!

A peak that every man or woman might aspire to, just about anyone can conquer the distance, but in reality relatively few are prepared to make the effort. For those that are it almost invariably hurts - and hurts a lot!

Which isn't surprising given that during the course of 26miles, 385yards, or 42,195metres, the average runner's feet hit the ground over 30,000 times. And each step sends a shock the equivalent of 3 times your body weight through your legs, your thighs and your spine!

Bizarrely over 35,000 people (including one or two friends of ours) decided the pain was worth it and once again provided a great sporting spectacle and one of the best examples of city-life at its best in the process. Well done Jonny, Garry, Paula, Kevin and Chick! 'You ran with perseverence the race marked out for you!'

I must admit that my enjoyment of the whole thing (which has to be experienced to be believed) was a little tempered by the fact that injury had prevented me being on the other side of the barriers, but still, there's always next year?!

Forget golden, silence is dangerous!

'A silent toddler is like an unexploded bomb!'

Which is why we probably should have been more aware of the imminent carnage likely to ensue as Joshua quietly amused himself in the front room recently. Sure enough on closer inspection the reason for his tacet enjoyment was the fact he had purloined some contraband - namely some baby oil - which he was liberally emptying around the room!

Still, on a more 'constructive' note, Joshua had his first visit to the dentist this week. And thankfully, he didn't need too much done?!

Unfortunately the same couldn't be said for his trip to the hairdresser - he needed taming! Exhibit 'A' (which is dedicated to my doubting mother-in-law!) demonstrates the resultant scalping!

Exhibit 'A'

Missing something?

On Wednesday night we spent some time considering the impact of literature - all things written. As ever diverse and provocative converstion ensued centred upon the influence of the persecuted Chinese church leader Brother Yun, Martin Luther King Jnr and J.D. Sallinger. We even heard about a 'wedge-less' circle...


Once a circle missed a wedge. The circle wanted to be whole, so it went around looking for its missing piece. But because it was incomplete and therefore could roll only very slowly, it admired the flowers along the way. It chatted with worms. It enjoyed the sunshine. It found lots of different pieces, but none of them fit. So it left them all by the side of the road and kept on searching.

Then one day the circle found a piece that fit perfectly. it was so happy. now it could be whole, with nothing missing. It incorporated the missing piece into itself and began to roll. Now that it was a perfect circle, it could roll very fast, too fast to notice the flowers of talking to the worms.

When it realized how different the world seemed when it rolled so quickly, it stopped, left its found piece by the side of the road and rolled slowly away.
The lesson of the story, I suggested, was that in some strange sense we are more whole when we are missing something. The man who has everything is in some ways a poor man.

He will never know what it feels like to yearn, to hope, to nourish his soul with the dream of something better. He will never know the experience of having someone who loves him give him something he has always wanted or never had.

There is a wholeness about the person who has come to terms with his limitations, who has been brave enough to let go of his unrealistic dreams and not feel like a failure for doing so.

There is a wholeness about the man or woman who has learned that he or she is strong enough to go through a tragedy and survive, she can lose someone and still feel like a complete person.

Life is not a trap set for us by god so that he can condemn us for failing. Life is not a spelling bee, where no matter how many words you’ve got right, you’re disqualified if you make one mistake. Life is more like a baseball season, where even the best team loses one-third of its games and even the worst team has its days of brilliance. Our goal is to win more games than we lose.

When we accept that imperfection is part of being human, and when we can continue rolling through life and appreciate it, we will have achieved a wholeness that others can only aspire to. That, I believe, is what God asks of us - not to ‘be perfect’, not ‘don’t even make a mistake’, but ‘be whole.’


[Here's hoping the Texas Rangers only lose a third of their games this season now they've got Sammy Sosa sluggin' away at the Ballpark!]

A thing of beauty?

We haven’t had house group tonight – which generally means that I won’t have to record The Apprentice, Desperate Housewives or Grand Designs (The only 3 programs in a week that I follow in any real sense and there’ll all on the same night. And that night happens to be house group! How’s your luck!). Anyway one way or another Wednesdays are always good nights, particularly when we do get together, share some cake and talk about life and the Creator whose idea it was in the first place.

A couple of weeks ago we each shared and spoke about a song/piece of music that had impacted us as we thought about the various ways we have experienced God through music.

From Rufus Wainwright to The Divine Comedy, from Johnny Cash to Nine Inch Nails, there was even room for the Staff Songsters! (I'm not saying who brought the 'Staff' into it, but it wasn't me!!) As eclectic as the group itself, there was little doubt that we each experienced God through music in very different, yet no less powerful, ways. But for lots of reasons I was really taken by the following track…

For those like me who are new to the song, it’s ‘Hurt’ - written by Nine Inch Nails (a new one to me?!) but performed here by Johnny Cash.

I was immediately struck by how powerfully the song (and video) communicated even before we learnt that the song was written by a guy named Trent Reznor (from this Nine Inch lot!) who struggled with depression fuelled by drug and alcohol addiction. Yet this undeniably self-destructive and dark testimony seemed to be redeemed and transformed as Country-legend and committed Christian Johnny Cash covered the track.

Indeed Trent Reznor, who had initially opposed Cash’s keeness to cover the song, on watching the video commented ‘the video he made of that song was overwhelming. When I saw it the power and the beauty of music struck me in a really profound way. I was at a point in my life when I was really unsure if I was any good or if I had anything to say. The song came out of a really ugly corner of my mind and turned into something with a frail beauty. And then several years later an icon from a completely differenr world takes the song and juxtaposes himself into it in a way that seems more powerful to me than my own version. I was flattered as an artist and as a human being they could do that with my song. And it came at a very insecure time in my life and it felt like a nudge and boost and a hug from God. It said ‘everything’s OK and the world is bigger than what’s just in my head.’

A powerful, powerful reminder that beauty can emerge from even the darkest of places. Like I said, Wednesdays are always good.

Somebody's got a new hobby

For the third time in as many weeks we had someone 'experimenting' with the medium of fire at the side of our building! Thankfully eagle-eared Lisa (I'm not sure eagles are renowned for their hearing but nevermind!) heard them shuffling around outside as they splashed the petrol about! Not for the first time we were impressed and appreciative in equal measure for the prompt arrival of our fire-fighting friends.

NB: The first fire was a daytime affair lit by some bored schoolboys on their lunch-break. It's fair to say that I was glad my Dad (a Fire Officer most of his life) didn't witness my ham-fisted attempt to douse the blaze! Unfortunately a crowd from the neighbouring school did!

Meanwhile, back at home...

...it's been a crackin' Easter weekend. Not least because the weather has been just peachy! Which meant that amongst other things we took a trip into town and ventured from the fountain-filled Somerset House to the tourist-thronged steps of St. Paul's and neighbouring Paternoster Square.


Things went a little pear-shaped, and not a little wet, when Joshua learnt that he does actually need at least one leg to stand on! Being the well-prepared parents that we are Joshua then headed along the Embankment with his legs stuck in the sleeves of his fleece - nice look!






Notoriously bad when it comes to 'posing' for photos Joshua seemed to prefer the look of a Romanian family who were sitting along from us on the steps of Paternoster Square. As the dad tried to arrange his family for his photographic memory of their trip to London in popped Joshua crouching down amongst the family to make sure he was right in the shot! Flamin' contrary rascal!

Actually during his foray into the Romanians he'd tried to grab one of the boys toys. Quite understandably the little boy was having none of it and jealously guarded his prize, sweet-dispensing possession. However natural his instincts were he was then chastised by his mother and instructed to give Joshua some sweets! I was tempted to make a grab for their camera and see if they offered me a tenner for my trouble!

More cultural challenges from the sub-continent

While in Trivandrum we had the opportunity to worship at one of the local corps. As ever it was great to worship with other Christians from a totally different context and to be reassured that for all that makes us different there is so much more that unites us.

But I came away challenged by a couple of things.

Firstly was how British, and 1950s British at that(!) the meeting (service) was. Apart from the fact that most of it was translated you could've been forgiven for thinking we'd been transported back to the UK and back a few decades in the process! Where were the sitars?!

Secondly I was challenged as to how and when, as Christians and as a church, we are called to challenge the prevailing culture. This thought was prompted by the fcat that when we worshipped we did so seperately - men on one side and women on the other. On one level this seemed a perfectly indigenous way to approach things. Yet the briefest of experience of Indian culture suggests a male dominance that is not always helpful. Indeed it would seem that as with any 'dominance' it is often built upon, and maintained by, oppression and abuse.

And so I was left wondering whether or not this offered the church and the Salvation Army in particular a counter-cultural opportunity to model the freedom found in Christ. I was left wondering how this prevailing culture would ever be challenged and changed (if indeed it should be) if the church did not step up. Of course given the miniscule number of Christians in India it could easily be argued that they would offer an inadequate challenge, but from where else will the prompt for change come? Experience would seem to suggest that however unlikely, cultural change (Civil Rights movement in the US, the end of apartheid in South Africa, the fall of Communism in Eastern Europe) is often instigated, amongst others, by Christians.

I also recognise that it would be easy to explain it away as a cultural norm, but I'm not sure how this sits with the fact that as Christians we believe 'there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.' (Galatians 3:28)As I say, I'm left considering how and when the Church is called to challenge the world around us? History suggests that where the church fails to assume the mantle of change-agents we can often be guilty of maintaing the status quo and perpetrating societies 'cultural' injustices (I'm thinking of segregated Corps in South Africa when apartheid was alive and abusing!)

Cultural challenges from the sub-continent

As in Tanzania (and I believe other African countries) it's more the 'norm' for men to hold hands in public. Thankfully, having already experienced this cultural difference in East Africa I wasn't as shocked as I perhaps could've been when one of my new Indian friends casually clasped my hand(!) as we headed for a local community the Salvation Army having been working in over the last 10 years. All told, by the end of the day I'd held hands with 4 men! They're very promiscuous hand-holders on the sub-continent!

Indian memories

Be careful who you have lunch with!

'Interupted silence' would probably be a better title for this blog at times! Weeks of 'nothing' punctuated by sporadic bursts of 'activity'. But there has at least been a reason (of sorts).

Last week saw us return from a week away and then Easter has been fairly important(!) and the contrasting 'flavours' of business and stillness have each stymied the intermitent eagerness to 'journal'! Still what use is a memory if we don't use it?! So rather belatedly I'm mentioning the fact that since I last blogged I've been fortunate enough to travel to Trivandrum (which is not, as my brother assumed a village in Wales or Norway!) in Kerala State, south-west India!

Bizarre I know as I hadn't mention the prospect of travelling four and half thousand miles around the world, but there was a reason for that.... I didn't know!

Long story short a lunch with some colleagues from the Salvation Army's International Headquarters and a casual reference to an imminent coneference on 'integrated mission' led to a last-minute invite, a hastily arranged visa and a couple of sore arms! Within 7 days I was in India meeting with folk who work for the Salvation Army in every continent in the world. It perhaps goes without saying, but it was a great experience. All told I was in India for 5 days (yeh, it brings a new meaning to a long-weekend!) so it only really afforded a glimpse of an incredible country and as ever it left me wanting more, but it wasn't without it's challenges.

While not my first visit to a developing country it was my first since becoming a father and I can't say that that helps! Rightly or wrongly every child represented my own and reminded me, painfully, what a mess we've made of the world. But perhaps that's why it was encouraging to be with a group of people who in their own diverse contexts were attempting to provide solutions and to meet the needs around them in very unique and creative ways. It was one of those times when you're proud to be part of The Salvation Army.