Different reactions can be equally glorifying to God

You may have guessed I'm a bit of an emotions junkie, judging by blogs I've written before touching on sadness and grief. If you've spent any time with me in real life, you'll know the English stiff upper lip eludes me - my upper lip is usually wobbling in preparation to cry in response to anything that demands sympathy, and if I'm joyful, enthusiastic or indignant, you'll probably know about it.

I've spent a lot of my life feeling guilty about being so emotional and feeling like it's incompatible with being a Christian to embrace these feelings. I think this is more to do with British culture than the Bible; the human beings we get to know in both Old and New Testaments exhibit the full raft of strong emotions, and lived in cultures that were far more expressive than ours. Death was greeted with weeping and wailing, victories were celebrated with dancing, and arguments were thrashed out passionately. To be honest I think David, Job and the Apostle Paul would have been made to feel pretty uncomfortable in a lot of our English churches! 

When we go through tough times in life, I think we become even more self-critical of our responses as Christians - and probably as people in general. We aspire to a calm serenity in the face of trouble, looking to be "strong" like "a rock" (rocks don't have many emotions last time I checked). Being uncomplaining in the face of physical discomfort is especially venerated. These cultural values mean that displays of sadness, upset, confusion, anger and frustration can often be interpreted as sinful or immature.

I've been reflecting recently on how a whole plethora of human responses can be equally valid and wholesome. As Christians, what should our responses be? Glorifying to God. And there is no one size fits all way to achieve this. Being God-glorifying rests on trusting Him, submitting to His sovereignty, and enjoying his good gifts and attributes in the midst of human life - both in our joys and sorrows. And all these are possible while experiencing the whole spectrum of human feeling.

As a microcosm of this, I want to reflect on the last few days in our life, when my husband has been quite ill with Covid. The difficult backdrop to this can be found in this blog here, in which I outline just how difficult the last months of restrictions have been for us. After a strenuous and exhausting year, we're capping it off with a bout of horrible illness and exhaustion and a Christmas spent in isolation.

When we first got Aidan's test results on Sunday, I had an overwhelming supernatural peace. I had to take the decision to cancel and refund all the Christmas orders my home baking business had booked because it wasn't safe or legal to work on and distribute them. I had to tell dozens of customers that their Christmas goodies were being cancelled. Yet I had total and utter peace about this decision. I didn't even feel upset. I lost hundreds of pounds worth of business and felt a strong reassurance from God that this was all in his hands.

I was able to be completely at peace and selfless on Sunday and it was easy. I know so many people were praying for us that day and I attribute this peace to God entirely. One could say this is definitely a "God-glorifying" response in the culturally defined way, and I hope that is the case.

The next day, Monday, I woke up feeling absolutely hopeless and wretched. After months of not being able to socialise with other humans and weeks of not even being able to go to a café for a cuppa, the idea of being confined to the house single-handedly looking after three grumpy little humans, nursing a very poorly husband, running the house and getting ready for Christmas seemed a pretty desolate prospect. I was anxious that I would catch the disease and also get poorly (I am asthmatic) and not be able to cook Christmas dinner! I was conscious of the possibility of the long-term effects of Covid on Aidan. All day that day I felt like I was on the edge of hysteria; that if I stopped and thought about things too much, I'd burst into tears, so it was best just to keep going.

Both days I had got up and read my Bible and prayed. Both days I kept throwing myself on God and his grace. Both days I was reminded of His goodness, faithfulness and His unchanging nature in the face of the storm. Both days, I am sure people were praying for me.

So why one day the peace and the next the turmoil?

First, because God made me who I am! God made me with all these emotions and responses. He knew what He was doing. To fight against that and berate myself is actually to berate God for his idea of what this creation should be. And because he made me like this, it must mean that...

Both can be equally glorifying to God in different ways. One day the peace came easily - that was God's good gift. The next, I had to fight to cling on to Him - that was God's good gift of me growing in maturity. When people texted me on both days and asked me how I was, I had completely different responses. It was probably more uncomfortable for them to read my more upset messages on Monday than the happy peaceful ones on Sunday, but actually it means that they know what I'm facing and can see that I'm still trying to trust God and keep going in the face of adversity.

Jesus wept. I think of that verse so much. Jesus didn't live on this earth and ascend to Heaven to intercede for us so that our humanity lost its defining features. He got angry, he got sad, he got hungry and tired, he loved, he laughed and he cried. We have a great high priest who sympathises with our weakness. When we are weak, when we are sad, God is strong; he comforts us.

Yet we spend so much of our time trying to pretend we don't have this weakness! And therefore because we so often don't share these feelings and experiences, the idea that everyone else is a rock of stability grows and so does the guilt about our own difficult times.

For too long we have measured our glorification of God by our outward suppression of emotion. Actually what demonstrates our trust in God is not whether we are crying or putting a brave face on it, but whether our hearts are His. External calmness and "peace" can often be a veneer which hides a lot of anger and turmoil underneath too. God sees our hearts. He knows whether they are trusting in Him under the tears that are falling or the lip that is stiff. 

This is so encouraging to me. He has made each and every one of us completely unique. No two people can glorify God in exactly the same way; this is one reason each life is so precious. We all reflect a different part of our Creator. Whether we are naturally calm, or naturally emotional, we are all wonderfully made. Getting to know each other and understand each other in this may be challenging at times, but ultimately it's God-glorifying as we understand how each of our personalities reflects his image. And whether we are that "rock" or the emotional shipwreck (me), what matters is where our hearts and heads are at. 

Trusting in God may sometimes mean calmer waters and sometimes it may mean clinging on for dear life as we are buffeted around, and sometimes it's a bit of both. Thankfully he is the anchor in the storm no matter what. 

No Man is an Island

I wrote this piece for the Thought for the Week in Keighley News a while ago, which unfortunately isn't available online, so here it is in blog form.

“No man is an island”, said John Donne a long time ago, and then the main character played by Hugh Grant in About a Boy more recently. 2020 has definitely shown us just how much we need community and relationships. Some of us have spent weeks without the touch of another human being; mothers have found themselves constantly accompanied but feeling lonelier than ever without support; children have been separated from their friends; and grandparents have sorely missed the noise and mess of their grandchildren.

It’s a scientific fact that loneliness is bad for us – research has found that it increases the risk of premature death by around 30%. We need each other, and as great as Zoom is, it certainly doesn’t live up to a hot cup of tea at someone’s kitchen table or a shoulder to cry on.

Why do we need relationship so much?

The Bible tells us that we were created for relationship. God himself, as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, has always loved and been loved, spoken and heard. Genesis tells us that we are made in His image. We are each precious and we are not meant to be alone. We are designed to be in relationship with God, and with each other. Sadly the mess and madness of this world are often barriers to this. We may not know God and we may disappoint each other. But if the last few months have taught us anything, it’s just how important it is to love and be loved, to speak and to listen.

That shoulder to cry on might have to wait for now as we face more restrictions, but thankfully nothing, not even Coronavirus, can separate us from the love of God. He invites us all to be in his family: Creator and creation, Father and child. As his children we aren’t alone; he gave us each other. And one thing’s for sure: I’m not going to take any of those cups of tea for granted ever again.

 

What I want to give my children this Christmas

ETA: At the time of writing this, we were awaiting my husband's Covid test results as he had been really poorly with the symptoms. I obviously didn't want to publicise this on the blog in case it was negative! However, a few hours after writing this we got his results and he is positive. We had to tell the children straight away then and they realised immediately it meant Christmas in isolation. While I am afraid that one child did say 'stupid Boris Johnson' when I informed her the plans would have been ruined anyway due to the Tier 4 announcements, they bounced straight back and entertained themselves making funny and sweet videos for each other. They also said that they knew we would make it the 'best Christmas ever' even with the disadvantages. I was so humbled once again by God's goodness and generosity and so glad that I had woken this morning with the urge to write this blog. I never realised how much it would encourage me throughout the day. Here's to a Merry, if somewhat haphazard, Christmas.

Here's what I was desperate to give my children this Christmas: a shot of normality. We had plans to welcome my brother and mum here for Christmas Day, and then travel to my Dad's to stay with him, his wife and my step-brothers. We were looking forward to a change of scene, celebrating with family, hugs, fun and a much needed respite from the slog of the last 9 months.

Living in the Bradford area, we've been harder hit than most of the country by the Covid restrictions. Post-lockdown 1.0, after a blissful 30 days of being able to be inside a home with one other household (which we very much made the most of), on July 31st the government put us in local lockdown and we have never since been allowed to have another household inside our home. When the Rule of Six was introduced, as a family of five this meant we can't meet more than one person even for a walk on the moors. Our kids have no other kids to run off and play with or talk to, we can't even meet two grandparents at the same time: and it's all on us to entertain them.

We have three children, whom I homeschooled for three months, until they could return to school for three weeks in the summer term as my husband is a keyworker. He is a Deputy Headteacher and has endured all the stressful ups and downs of dealing with ever-changing government policy, incorporating new restrictions, acting as a Test and Trace centre and going into work every day knowing he could be bringing the virus home to his severely asthmatic wife.

My business was hard hit as it's weddings-based, two of my 20+ booked in weddings actually going ahead this year. Towards the end of the year things have picked up for me, which has coincided with the virus finally reaching our school and us living day to day not knowing which of our children would be sent home next. In this autumn term, I've had one child at home with me for 5 weeks of it, struggling to juggle work with their needs. Every time they isolate, we can't leave the house or garden, so I haven't met with another adult for around six weeks and haven't been for proper walk for over two as I write. It's one thing to entertain your children inside for a whole day at the best of times: doing it for nearly 4 months this term is quite another and often I wake up feeling completely hopeless and helpless at the start of the day.

Our children are old enough to understand both the reasoning behind the restrictions and to struggle very much emotionally with the constantly moving goalposts and uncertainty and anxiety that brings. They've had birthdays where lockdown was imposed two days before, haven't even been able to have a friend play even in their garden for much of the last nine months, and haven't seen one of their grandparents for more than five hours in total this year. They've been hugely upset and disappointed at every twist and turn that's defeated our fragile plans and have been left baffled and frustrated that we keep following the rules when so many around us are breaking them. One of our children has additional needs and struggles with changes in plans and routine a lot, often resulting in physical meltdowns which are very draining for the family.

Reading this, I'm sure many of you can relate to these experiences. Through lockdown, somehow God has kept us afloat, kept us sustained, given me more patience and love than I could have known, and always been there to forgive us and comfort us when we lost our rag. I'm fully aware that things are so much better for us than so many people. That doesn't cancel out the difficulties but it gives some perspective.

So when I say I was desperate to give my children a shot of normality at Christmas, being honest it wasn't just them I wanted that for, but all of us.

When Boris Johnson told us all yesterday that Christmas as we knew it was going to be cancelled, a flood of emotions engulfed us, as I'm sure they did many of you. Anger at the way the decisions had been made, heartbreak that we were not to see each other, disappointment and despair that we have to slog on alone, and most of all, devastation that we had to break the news to our children.

We still haven't told them this morning as we are waiting on other elements of the family to decide plans so we know what to say to them for "certain". But in my worry and upset over how to shepherd them through this latest crisis, my thoughts turned to this realisation:

It is not my desire to give my children happiness for Christmas.

It is not our goal as parents to make our children comfortable.

It is not our job to make the world safe and sound for our children.

It is our job to equip them for life in this broken world, to point them toward the refuge of God's love and to give them resilience through trust and faith in Jesus Christ.

This Christmas we may not be able to fulfil their expectations, but we can help them grow in love and understanding for our Saviour, the light of the world whose incarnation we especially remember in this darkest time of year.

That's uncomfortable for us as parents. I hate seeing my children upset and, let's be honest, I hate having to deal with it. It takes sacrifice to guide your children through tough emotions and disappointment. I need to model what I want to teach them - that I know what it feels like to have your hopes dashed, to die to self, crush my own desires in order to love them well, finding my joy and satisfaction in Jesus rather than in the comfort of happy kids who let me have a cuppa in peace.

Yes, our children have lost a lot of their childhood this year. But they have gained a lot too. They've seen us, their parents, being held up and strengthened by our loving Father God. They've seen our faith acted out in ways we haven't had the opportunity to demonstrate before. They've seen what it is to obey God even when it's excruciatingly difficult, trusting him to honour those choices. We've had many conversations around the meal table about just how much we have to be grateful for, focusing on the bounty of God's providence rather than complaining and griping about what we don't have. They've seen their parents upset and listened to us talk about our very real feelings and how we take those to God and find refuge in Him. They've been brought to the anchor and certainty of God's love on the Cross which holds in the stormiest of seas. They've been made to reflect on just how blessed we are materially, emotionally and spiritually, and grow in gratitude when it's tempting to moan. And they've been taught what it is to respect our politicians even if we wholeheartedly disagree with them (no, you can't call Boris Johnson a stupid man...).

So when we break the news to them about our changed Christmas plans, it won't be pretty, but I know I have a path we can walk with them. One that shows us this is happening because we live in a broken world, and the good news of the gospel is that Jesus came into that brokenness to give us salvation from it. This may be one of the darkest Christmases we will ever have, but the light of the Son shines even brighter because of that. The ground may be shifting beneath our feet, but his sacrifice on the cross and resurrection has won the victory securely already. It hurts living in this world. But we know the Man who will restore everything to perfection one day. I pray that instead of losing themselves in the short-lived comforts of this world, they would put their trust in Him and find eternal joy instead.

God's Sovereignty is not a Get-Out-of-Politics Card for Christians

Hours ago, the President of the United States stood up at a press conference and told lies. He lied about the postal votes in the US election being illegal, he lied about controlling the Senate, he lied about the Democracts stealing the election and he lied about voter suppression and interference. Ironically, the one truth he told was concerning the record number of Republican women being elected - seeing as just days before the election he sniggered while warning that it would be terrible to have a Democrat in the White House - "especially female".

It is tempting for Christians to invoke the sovereignty of God as a comfort blanket that we put over our heads to block out the noise and roar of worldly politics. God is in control, so we can passively let the elections happen and the leaders speak. We can cast our vote and do our bit, we may email our MP once in a while - but other than that we accept bad stuff will happen, they'll mess up and we chalk it up to living in a broken world that Jesus will come back and fix one day. For now, we'll just muddle through.

The Sovereignty of God is more like a two-edged sword than a comfort blanket. It cuts to truth through lies. It's a lamp exposing the darkness, setting a standard far above what we can expect on earth. In an age where truth is at stake and the very concept of truth is being eroded, the existence of God is what we pin our belief in truth on as Christians. We know God to be just, and justice to have an absolute definition. We know him to be good and to demand fair treatment for the poor, alien, fatherless and the widow. God's sovereignty is what gives us a moral framework that we believe to be an absolute truth.

Why do we fall into the trap of using God's sovereignty as a get out clause to not engage with politics? Several reasons I think.

Firstly, in the post-war era we have lived in a time where in the Western world, there has been a general political and social consensus that is fairly moderate. Leaders such as Thatcher, being clearly more to the right, invoked far more unrest, but generally speaking we have not seen a fascist or communist threat having any chance of power for decades. This has lulled Christians and probably the population at large into a false sense that we can sit back and relax. Unfortunately, with populist far-right parties on the rise and polarisation intensifying, this is no longer true.

Second, we have fallen into the cultural trap of thinking "they are all the same". With lies and corruption periodically exposed, such as the MP's expenses scandal in the UK, there is a growing feeling that all politicians are as bad as each other. The Christian community has even more impetus to think in this way as, adhering to a set of beliefs that are at odds with societal norms, we have a sharp sense of being culturally different anyway which throws the political realm into less focused perspective. 

Third, we often forget that eternal life starts in this world. There can be a false sense of just "passin' through" this life to get to eternity. In reality we are saved now, life to the full starts now, and God's kingdom is coming on earth now. Even the new earth will be a real, physical place. The physical world we are in now is designed for us to steward, subdue and rule, in line with God's good principles. This is particularly pertinent to issues such as environment. Simply because we know God has promised to renew or remake the earth is not a free pass to destroying the planet. Rather, because we know God values the planet so highly, so should we.

There are probably other more general reasons like politics sometimes being difficult to understand and there being a regretful lack of education on this area in our school system and homes. It can seem like a different realm for a different kind of person, and the people who have the power tend to want to keep it that way to protect their interests.

Here's why God's sovereignty propels us into political engagement rather than away from it.

1) God is truth and as his people it's our calling to proclaim this in the world. What is truth? This very notion is under threat. Yesterday Trump's tweets were labelled 7 times by Twitter as spreading misinformation. When the most powerful person in the world can stand straight-faced at a Press Conference and lie about facts that are so easily checked, it is obvious that truth is under threat - and sadly his followers buy into everything he tweets and says. Social media has enabled evil people to weaken truth with its lightspeed dissemination of misinformation and our lack of propensity to check what we are reading. I've fallen into this trap as I'm sure you have too. If you watch The Social Diliemma, their rallying call is to find truth, interestingly. As people of the Word, we know what truth really is. This means calling out lies when we see them. For a UK example, take the lie in the Leave campaign that the NHS would get £350 million extra a day from leaving the EU, and Tony Blair's illegal Iraq War was based on the lie that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction (he didn't). We went to war on an untrue premise which cost hundreds of thousands of lies and has left Iraq (and the Christian church there) devastated.

2) God is just and he calls out injustice throughout his Word in the strongest terms. The evil that God spends the most time denouncing, both in the Old Testament and as the man Christ, is unjust and cruel treatment of the poor. People often talk about the "moral issues" being of Christian concern, meaning abortion and gay marriage. The economy IS a moral issue. How we spend and organise our money as a nation is the most fundamental and far-reaching moral issue in question. We must pray for justice and act for justice, knowing that that either outcome will be applied to our Christian brothers and sisters as well as every precious human being in our nation. The recent report about anti-semitism in Labour under Corbyn, written after hundreds of survivors of systemic racism within the party submitted robust evidence of the mistreatment they had suffered, should shock, sadden and motivate us. We must stand with them and other survivors of injustice.

3) God is good and he defines goodness. He is kind, he is loving and he values each human being. Compare this to Boris Johnson calling black people "piccaninnies", gay men "tank-topped bum boys" and compared Muslim women wearing the niqab to "letterboxes". Donald Trump has boasted of sexually assaulting women, saying, "Grab 'em by the pussy...when you're a star, they let you do it". What a heinous abuse of power. He said these things before he got elected. Not all politicians are the same. There are men and women who are kind, and good, and have integrity - more than others. John McCain, the Republican who lost to Barack Obama, made one of the most gracious concession speeches in history, praising Obama, rejoicing over the election of an Black president and calling for unity. Simply because everyone is sinful and the world is fallen does not mean it is impossible to find people with better characters than others. Again, because we have lived in an era of relative democratic consensus and peace for several years, people tend to think that now all politicians fall into an area of moderation. They do not any more. We are on a real trajectory towards nationalism and authoritarianism and unrest and if we do not speak up for these values then we contribute towards a very dangerous path.

The one time that Christian leaders do most engage in politics is when our own freedoms are at stake. The basis for this activism is usually that the government's actions are violating our own constitutional law, such as the most recent move to argue legally that churches meeting is an essential service and that lockdown of our services violates freedom of worship. If we believe it's worth fighting for when it affects us personally, surely we should fight for justice when it affects the most vulnerable? There are many Christian organisations that do this; Hope at Home which works to protect the human rights of trafficking survivors is one such example. But I do not think that these issues should be solely the domain of specific charities. If Christian church leaders speak up when the injustice reaches our mostly middle-class, affluent churches, should they not speak up for the most vulnerable too and speak out against the utter evil and lies that are being propagated by those with the most power?

John Piper recently wrote an article condemning "flagrant boastfulness, vulgarity, immorality, and factiousness" as "self-incriminating, but also because they are nation-corrupting. They move out from centers of influence to infect whole cultures. The last five years bear vivid witness to this infection at almost every level of society." He wrote that he would not be voting for Trump or Biden based on their values. This is sorely overdue and very much needed and welcome. The Christian church should and must be standing up against this kind of vile leadership.

We often shy away, or are told to shy away, from talking about politics or "being political" because of the risk of division. Of course, Piper has received a huge backlash, but that kind of division is the right kind. To oppose violence and cruelty we must divide. Jesus was incredibly divisive. He constantly called out the religious leaders for their hypocrisy, injustice and mistreatment of the people. He ended up being killed by them, he was that divisive. Unity in this sense can only accelerate us in a dangerous direction. Of course, when we talk about these things we must put every effort into doing so in a respectful and gracious manner - something that is difficult when the issues are emotive and the stakes are high, but all the more important because of that. We have the Gospel and Jesus as the source of grace to oil the wheels of conversation.

The Christian church is called to have a prophetic voice. We must speak to eternal matters, and eternal matters start now. What do we have to offer? The God we serve offers truth, justice and goodness and we must show that now. Unless that pervades the earthly sphere of politics it is meaningless to people, and rightly so. We've lost our voice in recent years, and it's no coincidence that meanwhile society has plummeted down a trajectory of untruth and corruption. We must pray and act so that we find it again.

Covid-19: Why I don't want to make a salad in 1 minute (or, will we slow down?)

Idly scrolling through Facebook as I am far too wont to do these days (these days where it's illegal for a person to come to my house), up popped an ad for a gadget that enables you to make a salad in just ONE minute - and all you need to do is chuck some money at some more plastic that won't fit in your kitchen.

I watched with curiosity for a few seconds, then realised I had no desire to make a salad in one minute. I'm quite happy taking my slothful five to ten, usually while chatting to my family or listening to a podcast.

This reminded me of the start of a book I read recently called In Praise of Slow, which germinated from a moment of epiphany the author had when he nearly hit the 'buy' button on a tome of '1-minute bedtime stories' so he could speed up story time with his son - before realising he needed to seriously question his life choices.

The lockdown and slow-down that Covid-19 has brought to our lives has come with many tragedies, sorrows and difficulties, and at the same time, some joys for many, one being more time. I imagine I'm not the only one who felt the rush of relief as the hamster wheel stopped in March. I've planted seeds and watched them grow (excruciatingly slowly) and felt the joy and wonder as I've picked lettuce, radishes, carrots, squash and herbs from my garden to serve at the dinner table. I've sat and watched movies and played endless games with my children without any other concerns distracting me, and I've happily let them spend hours playing with mud and snails in the garden, no school gates to run to or piano lessons to fit in.

Now I stand at the cusp of the end of this time and I can almost smell the freedom, taste that first solitary, hot, quiet cup of tea and feel the peace (and cleanliness) seeping into my house again. And I can't wait. But I'm also conscious that what our family has just been given was a gift, that we will likely never have again. And I'm not sure I want to give all of it back just now.

While we are still subject to local lockdown, with the new school term starting again my husband is back in school full time, working his usual long hours and negotiating even more complicated government goalposts than usual. The children are about to embark on years 2, 4 and 6, meaning secondary school applications starting and the usual joys and sorrows it's my job to share between the hours of 3-8pm. As Coronavirus restrictions ease further, groups will start meeting more, socialising will pick up again, and all too soon I can see our calendar becoming just as full as it was in February this year.

There are four books I've read within the last year, independently of each other, that have caused us to ruminate on our pace of life and question what we are trying to achieve with it. Quiet, by Susan Cain, develops our understanding of the importance of introversion and careful reflection, and the subtle power, strength and value of these qualities. In Praise of Slow, mentioned above, brings together a plethora of studies on fast-paced work and leisure around the globe and the impact upon our health and happiness, advocating a significantly slower and more fulfilling lifestyle that is ironically, yet unsurprisingly, more productive. The Gospel Comes with a Housekey is a Christian book that argues for open homes and hospitality to take a front seat in our churches and communities, with simple, yet plentiful, food being at the centre. And Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is a warm, interesting and funny memoir of Barbara Kingsolver's quest to live entirely off their farmland for one year, eating with the slow pace of the seasons, and opening their home regularly to share their company, and bountiful produce, with loved ones.

All of these books have in common that speed is not of the essence, rather, human beings, nature, and our connection with them. As we begin the long and slow journey back to some kind of post-Covid normality, I want the human beings we know and love to be around us, to connect with us, and that to be the centre of our daily life - preferably over bowls of tasty food.

So when it's legal again for you to come to my home, there may be salad on the menu. And I'll invite you to come and chop cucumbers with me, over a cup of tea, while we chat to our heart's content (possibly while refereeing our kids and feeding the cat). And if it takes 15 or 20 minutes instead of one, they will have been well spent. They won't make an ad for that, because it's priceless. 

10 things the Devil loves about Coronavirus

C. S. Lewis' The Screwtape Letters was one of the books that most impacted me as a young Christian. Eerily believable as the writings of a senior demon to his young protegée, Wormwood, I felt the real dangers of the spiritual battle we are in as I read each word of exhortation from Screwtape to carefully and relentlessly disrupt the spiritual progress of their "patient". 

We must be on our guard more than ever against the devil's wiles. I reckon he's having a field day right now; here are ten reasons why. As I was writing this, I was convicted of many of my own failings and they are the basis for what I have written here, along with common themes taken from the Bible and illustrated in life generally; some are more specific to experiences over this year. I can't pretend to do justice to Lewis' superlative writings but here is my own interpretation of a demon writing about his experiences of Covid-19. 

My dears, I write to you in the midst of a most unexpected yet welcome series of victories for Our Father Below. Long have we waged our war with the Enemy and long we have suffered many defeats as his Church has only grown larger and stronger - with some advances in the wealthier, Western states who have happily become more spiritually dull the more comfortable their circumstances. Yet the past months have yielded more fruit than we could have imagined. 

1) The first, and most apparent, reason for our rejoicing in these past months is the physical separation of believers. We have always known that fellowship amongst Christians is one of the most deadly weapons our Enemy wields against us, and persuading our patients to cease meeting together is undoubtedly a tried and tested strategy. Now our endeavours in this area are rendered unnecessary, due to this most efficacious pandemic. Christians are having to remain separated in their dwellings and communicate only via a most unsatisfactory tool known as Zoom. Of course, this is most satisfactory to us. It has never been so simple to convince a Christian to give up meeting with the church. A simple ping on the smartphone or a feeling that they're tired and "Zoomed out" and most of them are taken care of. Nevertheless, our victory is not yet guaranteed as, most disconcertingly, some Christians have taken it upon themselves to increase their efforts of so-called love towards one another all the more due to the restrictions they face! Many demons are reporting that their patients are using text, phone calls, and even the outdated postal service to encourage one another all the more. I cannot express fervently enough that this must be stopped as some Christians are reporting a resulting even greater sense of "love and fellowship" which illustrates perfectly their delusional tendencies. We must do whatever it takes to distract and discourage them from these efforts.

2) We have consequently achieved considerable progress in another essential area: division. Division is the goal of any demon worth his (or her, of course!) salt, as it strikes at the very core of what the Enemy loves. Most pleasingly, this division has been brought about not just because of the physical separation that has so delighted us, but because the Christians are actually arguing among themselves about the virus! We could never have expected such thrilling results, being unfortunately familiar with the incessant chatter amongst the churches about their "unity in Christ", but it transpires that this was quite simply a veil of hypocrisy almost worthy of Our Father himself. All their bluster about having things in common and agreeing on the doctrines of primary importance has wafted away like a mist in the face of discussions over government policies such as masks! We could never have anticipated, never dared hope, for such a victory, given the transience and insignificance of such trivialities in comparison to eternal realities, but it seems the church has swiftly forgotten this, to our great enjoyment. Now, to ensure this division remains healthy, we must commit all our energies to making sure our patients, at no point, actually talk to each other about their disagreements. The longer they fester on their own, building up silent resentment towards their fellow believers, the better! Any open discussion strikes a blow to our campaign. If they insist on talking to each other about these things, try and stir up as much anger and bitterness in them as possible, so that their communications descend into argument, creating more of the delicious division Our Father Below desires.

3) A rather obvious, but no less significant, cause for rejoicing, is the anger that so many Christians are exhibiting. Anger has long been one of the sharpest tools at our disposal due to its overwhelming tendency to drive out love, hope and faith. This global pandemic has provided ample opportunity to inspire anger in our patients. One certainly cannot complain of creative scope in this area: I myself have successfully goaded some of my patients to anger over the following: lockdown restrictions, schools shutting, churches being unable to meet, the government ineptitude on display (it's almost as if Our Father has recruited many of these politicians to our side!), queues at the shops, and of course our most beloved new fiery dart, social media! And make no mistake, Christians are populating both ends of this spectrum really quite effectively - take one seemingly insignificant example which seems to really fire them up: mask-wearing. Some of our patients refuse to wear a mask, and some are so fixated on the importance of mask-wearing that they hate their fellow Christians in their hearts. This is truly a doubled-edged sword, as even the subjects who are not angry about these things are now feeling wrathful towards their fellow believers because of their reactions - sweet irony! Oh, this is fertile ground indeed, and we must sow richly. The true beauty of anger is that it turns them inwards into themselves and away from the Enemy and other Christians, which is the crux of our mission.

4) Following on from anger, then, is selfishness: another worthy goal. The physical separation of believers necessarily leads to forgetfulness and a lack of consciousness of the needs of each other (unless they are really Christlike), and then the divisions and anger marry beautifully to really cultivate self-centredness in our patients. The more introspective they are, the less they care about each other, and the weaker the Church becomes. I have found that some of my patients have fallen into a most pleasing rut of overthinking, so that they become so anxious and paranoid about how others perceive them that their focus has shifted entirely from the man they call Christ to their own wretched hearts. Make every effort to keep them from thinking of each other, as that will only serve to repair the unity that has been so effectively destroyed thus far.

5) We have always known that Christians have been most naively and laughably blasé about the spiritual battle they are in. Some of them fail to give any credit at all to the strength of the our opposition and of the supremacy of Our Father Below, being idiotically fixated on the material and physical so they fall into our traps with little effort on our part. Now this has been turned to our advantage to an even greater extent, if you can credit that! Our patients, in their anger and outrage, have actually confused the spiritual warfare we are in with warfare against their governments. They have stopped fighting against our schemes and have chosen instead to invest all their emotions, their intellect and their spirits in a battle against earthly (yes, earthly!) men. Not for many years have we been the recipients of such opportunity for victory! Of course, regretfully there is still a not insignificant minority that doggedly battle on, thinking the Enemy is on the winning side (to think! - a dead man on a cross, the winner!), and some of our most senior demons assigned to them are most decidedly put out by their faithfulness. Nonetheless, these are the minority, thorn in our side though they may be.

6) Two of the Enemy's most potent assets, prayer and Bible reading, have been significantly weakened by this pandemic - and this was a benefit I had not the foresight to anticipate. I was, I admit, experiencing some degree of foreboding that the extra time many of our patients have had due to Covid would have resulted in vastly more time spent in prayer and Bible reading. But praise Our Father Below, this is not the case! In fact, due to their routines being disrupted and all the trappings of normality falling away, many Christians have been praying and studying the "Word" for a mere fraction of the already paltry time they spent on it before. We have long been working for a breakthrough in this area and I am overjoyed to report that our expectations have been surpassed. We must continue to build on this good work by: encouraging our patients to stay up late so they are too tired to get up and pray in the morning; distracting them with all the usual technology when they do get up; and throwing all kinds of abnormalities their way so that they find it impossible to create a habit of those two deplorable activities.

7) I almost shudder to pen this word: marriage. It is hated by all demons and rightly so, for the strength of a Christian marriage has posed a seemingly insurmountable hurdle for our kind for centuries. Although, much to our revulsion, Christian marriages have weathered the Coronavirus storm surprisingly well on the whole, there are still a pleasing minority which have been greatly affected. We delight in this and anticipate the pressures of ongoing restrictions causing irreparable damage to the marriages of believers: whether this by via financial pressure, disagreements, time constraints, the difficulties of parenting or spiritual and mental illness - it matters not, so long as we attain the prize of marital breakdown.

8) Equally malevolent to me is the subject of the pastors. To be the stumbling block that causes a pastor to fall has long been a trophy achievement for a demon, as the repercussions of this are so widely felt and deeply affecting that really they do their own work for us. But Covid has provided us with another string to our bow here - that of distraction! Church leaders have had to spend vast amounts of time trying to familiarise themselves with baffling technology (such as this most pleasing Zoom interface), and acquaint themselves with the ever-changing and prolific regulations from governments. This perfect storm is much welcomed by all demons as it has meant the very useful and timely distraction for pastors from their congregations and their spiritual needs, leaving them as sitting ducks for us. An added bonus of this is that Church members can then become resentful and bitter, responses we so cherish. Unfortunately, their efforts have largely succeeded greatly, with many demons reporting that their patients are actually enjoying and benefiting from these ridiculous online events, but we soldier on.

9) The children. For millennia we have understood, as the Enemy does, the importance of winning humans over to our side while they are still young. Most frustratingly, the church often provided an enticing environment of this so-called love and "belonging" to the sons and daughters of our patients, meaning they were often indoctrinated and lost to our cause. An enormous encouragement during this pandemic has been the difficulty children have in experiencing any sense of belonging to their church, courtesy of the impersonal nature of Zoom and the lack of any physical gathering. Some parents are endeavouring to teach their children at home, of course, but many demons have implemented the usual devices (such as arguments at family mealtimes when many patients will attempt to read and pray with their young) to great effect. Even better if the divisions and anger I touched on above can be displayed by the adults in front of their children to visibly demonstrate the cursed hypocrisy that destroys young faith.

10) Last but not least, my dears, is that age-old, precious commodity that has been such a thrill to us: human arrogance. From the first days when Our Father Below coaxed the arrogance of Eve to fruition and brought about the Happy Event, human pride has been at the centre of our battle-plan. All I have expressed until now is reliant on the tendency of Christians to arrogance. Divisions, disagreements, anger, lack of prayer and Bible reading, marriage and parenting failures - the allure of arrogance greases the wheels of these to set backsliding in motion. As demons, we must make every effort to convince our patients that they do not need the Enemy; indeed, to be angry at the Enemy for permitting this virus to spread and to rear their proud selves up above fellow believers. As we well know, the Enemy's modus operandi is to inspire humility in his followers. We must inspire greed, selfishness and hubris! If this is within our power, then just like our dear Eve, our patients will be ruined, and the war will be won.

As you well know, my dears, Our Father Below has for many years been in a state of paranoia and rage, believing that somehow the man Jesus' defeat on the cross has caused him harm of some kind. He is sometimes tempted to believe the prophecy made after the Happy Event that spoke of his destruction. Indubitably, events over recent millenia have perhaps demonstrated a modicum of what they call "truth" in that. I can scarce believe we may finally be making inroads into the sovereignty of the Enemy, but we must trust that it is finally possible to usurp his powerful will. The Church must be our primary target. 

Covid-19: where do we turn when we're out of control of our lives?

There are two whacking great truths Covid has taught us about our life and our world. One is that we are not in control, much as we'd like to think so. And two is that fear of death is very real.

1) We are not in control

In our Western existence, we've got this control thing down - or so we thought. We call instructions to Alexa to cherry-pick our music and podcast choices while cooking our paleo meals to control our diet that we eat in our homes we have decorated to Insta-standard. We choose our careers, our holidays, our clothes, our friends. We cut everything out we don't like: from "toxic" relationships to carbohydrates. We plan days out, holidays and retirements. We wield money like a magic wand. We accumulate gadgets that give us a sense of ultimate control. We can Google anything at the tips of our fingers to get any information we want. We get very annoyed with little disappointments as a result: just shut the WiFi off in a houseful of adults for two minutes and see what happens. I mean, I found myself having a mental strop the other day because neither Sainsbury's or ASDA had tahini paste in stock - before I gave myself a mental slap (and then ordered it off Prime...).

We had our gym routines, our work-life balance, our childcare and our social calendars all hyper-controlled: the plates spinning carefully. And then Coronavirus came along and threw a giant curveball and smashed all those plates.

We've learnt we are not in control at all. A microscopic virus, which defies human control, has wreaked havoc among our lives and our nations. Governments who have control of nuclear weapons and the power to destroy millions of lives have been brought to their knees by Covid. The stock markets of the globe's most affluent nations have ground to a halt. In our age of constant growth, constant accruing of wealth, constant clamouring for more, more - we have been rudely awakened to the fact that the systems we thought we had so robustly constructed are actually a house of cards. They're a mirage, a trick of the light: in fact, we are at the mercy of far more powerful elements.

I've spent the last 4-5 years building up a business from scratch. I've planned marketing yearly, strategised on income streams, honed my website, taken businesses courses and done everything you can humanly do (while raising three small people) to construct a successful enterprise. I was particularly pleased with how many wedding cakes I had booked in for 2020. In March this year, that had all been destroyed. Nearly all of this year's income was dust: nearly every single one of this year's weddings moved to 2021, no classes going ahead, and with homeschooling my three little birds, not much time to make cakes even if I'd wanted to. I spent some time grieving. But ultimately my grief was underpinned by the hope that even though I was demonstrably not in control, I know the person who is.

James 4:13 says this: "Now listen, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money." Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, "If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that". 

There is someone who is in control: God. And thankfully he is a good God and he invites us to know Him. Children don't feel scared when they know Mum and Dad are there to protect them. That's what it's like when you know God: he's our Father who is not just powerful but so good. We may be a 'mist' in terms of our transience in this world, but 1 Peter also tells us that if we trust in Jesus, we are born again, "not of perishable seed, but of imperishable". That means that once we know God, though our earthly bodies may die one day, our souls will have eternal, perfect life.


2) Fear in this life is real

We can see through the genuine reluctance of many to "un-lockdown" that fear surrounding Coronavirus is very tangible. In some ways, it is fear that has controlled mass behaviour over the last few months. Fear of spreading the disease to others, fear of loved ones suffering, fear that we ourselves will become very ill, fear that the NHS will collapse, fear for those in poverty, fear for economic ruin and all the tragedy that goes with that. The list of worries and fears and anxieties is endless.

Ultimately we've learnt that death could be nearer than we ever dreamt. And there's a fear of not being ready for it.

I'm always conscious, every day, that today could be the last for me or a member of my family. My husband cycles a lot, and there's not a time he goes out the door that I don't run through a scenario where I get the phone call telling me he's been knocked off his bike. Any of us could be diagnosed with cancer at any time or killed in a car accident. I'm just that kind of person: I always envisage the worst case scenario. (It means I always pack the coats even on a sunny day, so it has its uses. In the UK anyway.)

But that whole control thing gives us the false impression that we can choose to avoid these things. In our pampered, wealthy corner of the world, we think we can buy our way to a long and happy life. The last few months have shattered that illusion pretty comprehensively.

So are we ready for death? Do we need to fear it?

Thankfully, the answer is no. If we know the God who is good and in control, then we know that he offers us complete hope and peace even in the face of death. Death entered our world because of sin. Sin meant that our perfect, beautiful earth, where we were supposed to live in harmony with each other, is messed up. Our planet is now devastated. Our relationships are complicated and painful. Where there was only life, there is death all around. That there are so many beautiful and joyful parts of life is testament to the grace notes that remain from God's original creation and from his ongoing love for us all. And there are many parts of the world right now where those grace notes are few and far between. But there is a true eternal hope that supercedes any fleeting joy this world could offer.

In 1 Corinthians, Paul writes: "Death has been swallowed up in victory." "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" Thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ".

The problem of death is a problem for God too. That's why he sent Jesus into the world, to vanquish death once and for all. Jesus himself died on the cross to take the punishment for the sin of mankind but then broke the power of death by coming back to life so we can have eternal life. This earth is still suffering, for now - we still endure sin and death, but if we know the God who is in control by trusting in Jesus' death, we do not need to fear any more because we have eternal hope - our souls are safe.

This may seem like a load of gubbins to you. It may seem like a foreign language. If so, and you'd like to find out more, I am always here to talk about it. I believe the Bible to be true. It's a book - more than a book - that gives us a framework for understanding this messed up world we live in and try to make our home. It explains the pain and fear of human experience as well as the joy and love of it. It gives us hope. And when we believe God's word in the Bible, we don't have to clutch to our false sense of control or fear any more. We rest in our Heavenly Father who knows all things, takes away our fear and gives us the gift of peace in Jesus.

As we ease out of lockdown and regain some semblance of normal life, it's very possible we'll start to forget what the last few months have taught us. That makes them no less real, though, and it makes the good news of the Bible no less relevant. I for one am going to try and remember that when I book next year's wedding cakes in...

Mixed up: ethnic identity as a dual heritage daughter

I was recently invited, with others, to speak at our church Zoom service about my experiences concerning my ethnicity within both community and church. This is what I read out and I wish I had heard it when I was younger. I'm sharing in the hope that it will help people to understand the experiences of people better, and perhaps help other mixed race / dual heritage children to explore who they are more comfortably. Thank you to our church for giving me this opportunity to share.

I've only recently come to realise that I'm not white. To be fair, I've always ticked the 'White/Asian' box on the forms, knowing I'm honouring the truth at the same time as helping diversity quotas along. But despite the genetic facts of the matter, I've always felt that I am a "white" person masquerading as a mixed race one on paper only.

The reasons for this are complex but one is obvious: compared to my brown-skinned mum and my darker brother, I feel white. Somehow I got the lion's share of my dad's English genes, and even Mum talks of how strange it was for her daughter to be so much lighter.

My deep consciousness of my comparative whiteness has meant that when people have questioned my ethnicity, I have written this off as anomaly rather than a pattern that shows that I am not an English-looking person. Somehow the frequent questions, "Where are you from?" or my favourite, "Are you a bit...?" never alerted me to the fact that my other people's perception did not match my own. Incidentally, I always welcome people asking me, however clumsily, if it is from a kind heart, but sadly this wasn't always the case.

I remember asking a friend at school to borrow her concealer and her laughing and exclaiming, "But you've got way darker skin than me!" which I found ridiculous, as to me we looked the same. At Body Shop parties (the noughties version of the Tupperware gathering) I would go to swatch a shade of foundation and be told, "oh, that's far too light for you". I still sometimes buy makeup that's way too light because what I look like does not match what I see in the mirror.

Ironically, my lighter colouring has meant that some people have felt at liberty to confide in me that they think immigrants should "go home", until I ask if they mean my mum shouldn't be here, and they blush and say "Oh no, not her, she's fine". I resist the urge to point out that every immigrant is someone's mum, or dad, or daughter (and that immigration is good for our economy). But aside from that negative aspect, I know am a beneficiary of white privilege in terms of my life opportunities, which means that as far as I know, none of the struggles in my life have been a direct result of my ethnicity. I am all too aware that my pale skin has meant that I have got off lightly in terms of racist abuse; my darker brother has suffered more.

Another key reason for my inability to grasp who I truly am is the nature of my mum's ethnicity and her lifelong struggle with identity. Mum is Anglo-Indian, which is pretty niche. There have only ever been around 300,000 Anglo-Indians living at one time. Anglo-Indians are imbued with identity insecurity, due to their historical rejection from both British and Indian communities. Our British colonial ancestors have been traced back to the 18th century: white upper-class Englishmen who felt at liberty to take the spoils of India for themselves, including her women, thus creating a whole new ethnic group with their illegitimate children. When India achieved independence in 1947, the Anglo-Indian community were left out in the cold by the collapsed Empire and found themselves in a precarious position.

My Indian identity always felt like an absence to me. India was an abstract, an unknown I have never visited. No, my mum doesn't wear a sari. No, she doesn't speak "Indian". No, she's not Hindu. And most insultingly: no, she doesn't own a corner-shop (with no disrespect to any corner-shop owners of whatever skin colour they may be). People have struggled to place me but have always known that somehow, I am 'other'. We didn't fit with anyone's idea of what we should be.

My Indian family had mostly emigrated to Canada long before I was born, meaning there was no big family to hang out with and celebrate our Indian heritage with. I don't look much like any of my dad's family; I look like my cousins who live in Canada. And what was my Indian heritage, with no saris, red dots on our foreheads or Diwali traditions?

We ate curry - amazing curry - at home, and rice with a lot of things English people have chips with. My parents educated us around the dinner table about the East India Trading Company, the British Empire, Indian history, the partition, white supremacy, and racism. We loved eating jalebis, the Indian sweets that are orange and sticky. I liked that I was half-Indian. But because I have always seen myself as white, and because my Dad, as a white Englishman, is very comfortable conversing openly about these things with anyone, I erroneously assumed that all white British people experienced this type of upbringing, and that fluency in talking about race and ethnicity was a normal part of British culture.

All of this started to change two years ago when I read Reni Eddo-Lodge's superb book, "Why I'm no Longer Talking to White People about Race". In one part, she discusses mixed race children, and how the colour of your skin does not determine your ethnic identity: your genes and heritage do. I was amazed. This gave me the freedom to start accepting that I am half-Indian and half-white even if I don't look 50/50. I also identified hugely with a lot of the things Eddo-Lodge says about how white people interact with the subject of race and how brown and black people can feel about this, which surprised me. Around the same time, Mum had given me the novel "Secret Children", which is the fictionalised story of a family like the one I have come from, a long time ago: an Indian woman stolen from her village for a paltry sum by a British coloniser making his fortune from Indian tea. These books started unlocking something within me.

The murder of George Floyd has catalysed this process. As the aftermath and protests started to unfold, and the reactions poured out, I found myself struggling hugely. There were many reactions that showed the lack of understanding of structural racism and the uphill struggle people of colour still face in the UK. There were reactions from well-meaning people who were 'shocked' that this kind of thing could still happen. For those of us who have faced racism all our lives, it is not shocking, it's just exhausting, painful and exasperating. Then there was the silence. I understand that silence does not necessarily mean approval of injustice, but it can feel like it when it helps to uphold the status quo, and it can definitely feel like a lack of acknowledgement of pain. Silence certainly does not change anything.

I began to realise two things: one, that the people I was most identifying with in the George Floyd reaction were people of colour; and two, that all the hundreds of 'anomalies' throughout my life were not in fact that, but a coherent pattern. By that I mean that every time someone has asked me where I'm from, told me immigrants shouldn't be here and watched my face twist in pain, asked if I've had my teeth whitened, told me my hair colour looks too dark for my face or that they knew I wasn't English because I look 'a bit' - all of these things suddenly clicked into place and I realised that who I am is not who I have thought I am. In fact I am who everyone else sees: a half-Indian, half-white woman.

This all converged into the realisation that the 'white' experience of race is not something that I know much about, because it's totally different to mine. I do not know what it is like not to feel like an 'other'. I cannot comprehend not feeling that identity is something extraordinarily complex and confusing and painful. I did not understand before this month that talking about race at the family meal table isn't normal. I find it very difficult to understand being "proud" of being British when I am painfully aware of what Britain's historical actions have been. This is quite at odds with the culture we live in, particularly in Keighley where being proud to be British is kind of a big deal. At the same time, while I abhor the actions of the British Empire, I am very much aware I would not be here without it, two truths that are difficult to reconcile. I have never lived anywhere that is not overwhelmingly majority white and have never attended a church that isn't majority white, so I have no personal experience of that "melting pot" ideal where multiculturalism is a thing and I would be able to fit in. I know that the breakdown of my parents' marriage has also contributed to my general fractured sense of identity too, although both mum and dad are incredibly unconditionally loving to me.

I haven't finished processing all these emotions yet. I've experienced severe anxiety during this time. But here are some things that are helping me through it.

1) My underpinning identity is that I am God's child and a member of the human race, created in his image as are all other human beings. Christianity provides the ultimate antidote to racism. Race is a human construct, designed to subjugate. We have different skin colours and ethnicities and can celebrate these, but we are all one race. Sadly, we have to deal with the consequences of racism, but we know that we are not Indian or white or black first and foremost: we are Christ's.

2) Jesus was a brown-skinned man who lived as a refugee in his early years, did not belong in any earthly home, and was despised and rejected and killed by the authorities and his own people. He faced the ultimate injustice and he knows more deeply than any of us could what it means to be an outcast.

3) I may have been a bit slow on the uptake to realise who I am, but the people in my life who know me and love me, like yourselves, have always known who I was, and have accepted me. I think because ethnicity is not talked about, it hasn't always felt like that, but I know it to be true.

4) Our family is evidence of how God's grace works out of evil situations. What the British colonials did to Indian women was wrong. But out of it have come precious human beings. Fallen image bearers are capable of good and bad deeds and God can still work amazing providence out of injustice.

4) I believe the church has a key role to play in this conversation. Our allegiance is not to our nation but to our Saviour. We can talk to each other with grace and honesty because of our identity in Him which turns away pride, fear and shame. One example of this I have really appreciated was conversations around the time of the Brexit vote. Because part of the Leave campaign was concerned with immigration, I found it hard not to second guess whether my Leave-voting friends saw this as an issue and as a result how they would see my family. So I broached the subject respectfully with a number of church friends I knew had voted Leave and really enjoyed hearing their thoughtful views and learning from them. This then dispelled the worries I had too and the potential tension.

I understand that the concept of being "colourblind" came from good motives and was a reaction against racism, but I think we need to ditch it. Colour is beautiful. It's how God created us. Saying we don't see colour also stops us from acknowledging the injustice and pain people of different colours experience. The church can see and celebrate colour and be curious about each other because knowing and understanding one another shows us all a little bit more of God's image reflected in each of us.

So what do I see when I look in the mirror now? I am trying to see me for who I am: a kind of Indian and English-looking woman with my mother's nose, my Dad's curly hair, and my Grandma's eyelids. But most of all I am trying to see myself as God sees me: at home in Jesus, safe, secure, loved, and stamped with the Holy Spirit's seal. My earthly ethnicity may always be something of a conundrum, but I know that because of my identity in Jesus, the struggle will be gone one day, replaced by perfect peace and joy in an earth that knows only complete and beautiful unity. That isn't just a dream: it's our future reality.

Covid-19: Your sadness is valid - even if you're better off than someone else

A lot of us are pretty sad at the moment. It's often said that comparison is the thief of joy. I wholeheartedly agree, and I'd also go further and say comparison is also the thief of sadness - and that is equally, if not more, dangerous.

It is very common to invalidate ours, or others', sadness, by comparing the situation to those who are worse off. For example, the lockdown we are currently experiencing has been frequently compared to the Second World War - and the comparison is almost always used to urge the reader to be grateful it's not worse. Getting perspective is one thing, but using one situation to infer that the genuine difficulties of another are not legitimate is at best irrelevant, and at worst, damaging.

Restricting our need to grieve has become more widely understood as an issue that can cause serious mental health repercussions down the line. Bottling our emotions up inevitably results in them exploding at some point later: whether that's directed at ourselves or to others. We know all this, and it's become far more accepted that emotions need to be explored and felt, but we still struggle to give ourselves permission to mourn the mundane.

What do I mean by that? It is unquestionable that somebody who has suffered a great loss or trauma should be completely validated in their suffering and it's not often that people argue with that. But when it comes to the everyday sorrow, we're less practised at giving space and weight to our feelings.

As I've discussed before, we live in a broken world, where sadness cannot be eradicated (at least not yet), and is an intrinsic part of life. We know this, and yet we resist it. All too often we use the blunt tool of comparison to try and lever ourselves out of a funk. Are our children exhausting? Well, at least we have some. Are we experiencing loneliness? Well, at least we have a house to be lonely in.

As with many fallacies, there is a twisted truth in this. Sometimes gaining some perspective is entirely necessary and relevant in finding emotional healing. We are all familiar with the scenario of a small child (or even adult!) who is given an array of goodies and still manages to throw an almighty tantrum over the one tiny detail that isn't quite right. In this case, drawing their attention to the grander picture is clearly essential - and a pretty regular occurrence in this household.

But there are plenty of sources of sorrow that aren't, and shouldn't, be relegated to the status of 'minor detail', and instead need acknowledging. And ironically, it is only when we acknowledge that it's okay to feel sad about these things that we can truly have a fuller perspective on the situation, because we aren't attempting to obscure part of it with a false positivity.

I'm a big fan of the Disney movie Inside Out which is a great illustration of how all our emotions are necessary. The character Joy spends the movie pushing her colleague Sadness stay well away from their girl, Riley's, emotional control panel; she believes the goal is to only allow joyful experiences and memories into her life. In excluding Sadness, she ends up short circuiting Riley's whole emotional and psychological system so she can't feel anything at all, let alone joy. Joy finally realises that some of Riley's happiest memories have come in the wake of deep sadness, because it was those moments of sorrow that allowed the warmth and joy of human comfort to enter in. If we squash sadness down, we disable the full range of emotions that we need to access in order to fully function.

Another more practical rationale for why comparison is a false way to deal with sadness is that once you start, where do you stop? It's one thing saying "lockdown is really tough, but at least I have a warm house to live in and food on the table", but taken to its extreme, there's always going to be someone who's worse off than you, meaning that using this methodology, no sadness is legitimate. One wouldn't address someone who had just lost all their limbs in a bomb blast with the truism, "at least you have a beating heart".

In terms of the Christian faith, I also think it's important to note that if we don't acknowledge difficulty and pain we cannot rejoice in God's goodness and comfort to us in hard times. If we spend our lives trying to con our hearts into thinking there's no need to ever grieve, we shut them off from receiving God's help. He calls us to acknowledge our weakness and need for him, because he wants to fill our broken hearts with his grace and love. We also need opportunities to show each other love and help, as human beings and as Christian brothers and sisters. We may find it hard to ask for help, but we all love to help somebody else who needs it. To be human is to live in community. If we deny the everyday struggles of that community, we deny the need for each other.

So the next time you feel the weight of life's burdens, you don't have to make excuses for your feelings. Own them. Give yourself permission to grieve. God's waiting to help you, and so are your people. After all, Jesus wept, and so can we.

4 ways the Gospel enables conversations about race (and other awkward things)

Recent world events coupled with the mental health effects of lockdown have created a complex cocktail of emotions and thoughts for many of us. With more time to think, and a plethora of internet opinions to wade through (and sometimes add to), as a nation and a church we have begun to grapple with the issues of race perhaps more than ever before. Personally, I have found this a time of intense self-reflection as I work through my identity as a mixed race woman and Christian within the framework of tumult we are experiencing.

Our pastors have been preaching (Zooming?) through Matthew 18 during this time and some key elements from this passage have struck me as particularly pertinent to the British church as we seek to love one another more deeply and follow our Saviour more wholeheartedly, even and especially within our different cultures and skin colours.

So here are four ways I think Matthew 18 enables conversations about race (and other awkward things).

1) Matthew 18:1-4 - "Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."

We enter into God's kingdom as little children. At the time Jesus lived on earth, children had very lowly status. When He says we are to enter God's kingdom as children, that means humbly, knowing that all we bring to the table is our brokenness and our sin, knowing God will forgive us and make us new. Our salvation is all of Him. This means that by professing to be a child of God we are in our very essence acknowledging our faults and our need to be forgiven.

How does this relate to discussions about race?

It means we come to them humbly, ready to hear where we are at fault and where we need to change. If we have led privileged lives, perhaps without realising it, we look at those lives with eyes that are ready to be opened in new and uncomfortable ways. We must be prepared for our pride in our achievements and our sense of self-made success to be viewed through the lens of the privilege we never knew we had. It means that we are ready to listen to brothers and sisters without waiting to tell them our opinion. It means we are willing to hear their experiences and lives without assuming we have the correct, balanced view.

We have already come, humbled, to our Lord and Saviour, confessing our need for forgiveness and repenting. This is who we are and what defines us. Yet how often we bristle at any hint that we may have sinned. We can let go of this and allow ourselves to face the music and self-reflect without fear - for God already knows the fullness of our fallen hearts and has accepted us and loved us.


2) Matthew 18:10-14 - "See that you do not despise one of these little ones... if he finds [the one sheep], truly, I say to you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray".

Our Heavenly Father rejoices deeply over every soul that comes to him because we are precious to Him. We belong to Him and are in his family. This is our identity as Christians - we may be white British, Indian, African American or Chinese - but if we are Christians our identity as God's children is the ultimate identity. That does not wash over our ethnicity, but it does underpin it, and for someone like me who is mixed and struggles with how to reconcile the different parts of my heritage, it's amazing news. I do belong and I do have a family, regardless of how disparate my earthly family may be!

Because our identity is firmly and unshakably rooted in our salvation in Jesus, when we are interacting with issues of race, we do not have to feel threatened. Hearing the British Empire criticised or reading Churchill's not so popular opinions, you don't have to feel outraged and defensive that your nation is being criticised - because we know that our earthly nations are not truly home - that is the "heavenly country" that is infinitely better. Closer to home, if you are starting to feel the fringes of embarrassment and indignation when you sense your identity as 'white' or 'British' being threatened, you can push into our safe place as God's children and allow ourselves to listen and learn without leaping to your own defence.


3) Matthew 18:15-20 - "If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone."

The Gospel may unite us all in Christ, but it doesn't serve as a perpetual whitewash for ongoing sin. The New Testament is very real about the sinful nature and its persistence in this life even after we have been born again, and it's adamant that sometimes this sin should be gently exposed and the brother or sister brought to repentance. Racism is a sin, and its evil should not be softened or tucked under the carpet by the church. If we are saved, we sign up to be on the receiving end of this, as well as to go, and show our brother their sin, on occasion. In the British church, this isn't our forté. Our "stiff upper lip" culture often means that conflict nestles just under the surface without ever being resolved in a healthy way. As the church, we must be different. Unity does not mean pretending we agree about everything. It means that we die to self in order to preserve unity in Christ, putting our pride below the purity of the body of Christ. To show our brother their sin, or to have our own sin pointed out to us, both involve dying to self to preserve and nurture true unity.

In the context of race, this sin may not be as serious as overt racism. It may express itself in other more covert ways. We must be ready and willing to accept that sometimes we won't even recognise these in ourselves and receive loving rebuke with humility.


4) Matthew 18:21-35 - "I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. And should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?"

These verses were preached after a very turbulent week of protests following the murder of George Floyd. I was reeling and desperately trying to work through the torrent of anger, grief and indignation flowing through me. This passage was so timely. Our pastor explained that the amount of the debt the servant owed equated to millions, almost billions, of pounds - unpayable - and yet the Master wrote it off. The servant then goes and chokes someone who owes him a tiny fraction of this amount. The significance of the word "choke" was not lost on me, literally days after George Floyd died choking for air.

Our Father has forgiven us much. He has forgiven us for more than we could ever do to one another. Our sin put his Son on the cross. And he has forgiven us for that wrong. How can we, then, fail to forgive one another?

The topic of race and ethnicity can be a thorny one. It is rife with pain and hurt that stretches back lifetimes and centuries. Oppression that is rooted in history is not easy to dig up. But God calls us to forgive: to forgive those who have contributed, even unwittingly, to the problem. He enables us, by his grace, to forgive those who hurt us now by their silence or by their words.

Forgiveness is costly. Forgiveness does not ask us to sweep anything under the carpet. In forgiving, we are at liberty to acknowledge the pain and hurt, and decide to take the hit, to absorb the pain and in doing so be free of bitterness.

Forgiveness does not magic away consequences; and there are many consequences of racial oppression that we need to work through as churches and as nations. But knowing that we have been forgiven our great debt to the Creator of every living human being, who made us all in his image, changes the course of these consequences for us as brothers and sisters. We are set on a path of grace, to walk in the footsteps of the God-man who stayed silent as a lamb before the slaughter even when facing the most heinous injustice the universe has ever seen, in order to save his people and glorify his Father.



I have found these truths to be healing and I hope you do too. I have applied them to the subject of race here, but in actuality these encouragements can season any conversation with grace and love. I'm all too aware there are many occasions when I have not lived up to these saving truths - praise God there is grace still then! I pray that the Holy Spirit would cause us to rest in them more and more, and that in doing so we may truly be a church that is not afraid to go to the difficult places in order to become more united, more forgiving, more humble and more Christ-like.

The statues are a neat distraction from our own hearts

It's laughably shameful that permanent tributes to the men who organised and carried out the shipping of millions of black human beings across the world still exist in the UK, let alone that they are being described as "sacred" by our government. Edward Colston was a man who orchestrated the removal of around 84,000 people from their homes and moved them across the ocean in such squalid and vile circumstances that around 19,000 of them are estimated to die before they even reached their nightmarish destination. The outrageous amounts of money that people like him made from this heinous profession is why these people have permanent monuments to themselves that have far outstayed any welcome some gave them. Now when do we topple Oliver Cromwell, say the Irish?

Nevertheless, the fact that the conversation around race has now shifted to debating the merits of these people and whether Little Britain should be on telly is a downright disappointing shame. We obviously need a serious overhaul of what is considered acceptable (I would absolutely argue that David Walliams in blackface is not), but yet again, any chance we had of actually getting into the uncomfortable dialogue that underlies this is gone - shunted out of the way by Cecil Rhodes' bust.

We were getting into awkward territory for a moment; many white people are starting to grapple with these issues for real for the first time. Self-reflection and checking of privilege is occurring. Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race shot to the top of the Amazon book charts. People are owning their lack of understanding and seeking to get educated.

As I've spoken about before, any progressive dialogue about why black people are still treated as second-class citizens in this country, and how we can change that, has to start with ourselves and our own heart. Racism is not a binary; you are not either racist or not racist. We all have the capacity to be prejudiced and we all have to own our (unwitting or witting) contribution to the systemic racism that still chokes the life chances of millions of people in the UK.

The trouble is, that doesn't feel good. It really doesn't feel good to me that I have literally never considered, until this week, whether my buying power goes to supporting black-owned businesses. It doesn't feel good that I haven't even noticed that my kids' school has barely any non-white staff members.

We are all fallen human beings; the Bible says we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. None of us, I hope, would pretend that we'd want our life streaming on Netflix for all to see. It's easy to admit that in broad brush strokes, but actually confronting the fact that I as an individual have contributed to the oppression of black people in this country? No thank you. It's hard work to dismantle this way of thinking and many are recoiling at the prospect.

So what makes it easier to side-step this discussion while still pretending that we really care about Black Lives Matter? A nice distraction over statues of dead men, that's what. The national conversation and the newspapers have now rushed, like bees to a honeypot, to pontificate over how good and how bad Winston Churchill was and avoid the screaming elephant in the room.

Spoiler alert: all human beings are good and bad. Churchill was a great leader who led us to the end of the Second World War. He was also unequivocally a white supremacist who proclaimed that the British were a "stronger race, a higher-grade race" than "Red Indians" and the "black people of Australia" and that he didn't think any wrong had been done to them. The reason the slave traders have had such a visible legacy in cities across the UK is because they poured money into them. Never mind the fact that that money was bloodied with the wounds of black people whose descendants now live in the UK.

If we keep running from the darkness in our hearts, we can never change it. Pretending we are getting this right by looking at people who were worse is not the answer. It's hard to swallow the humble pie we all need to eat to actually get anywhere dismantling current white privilege. Those conversations need to start at a personal level, not with tweets about Cecil Rhodes' stoney-faced imperialism.

The good news is that once we do face up to our own culpability, there is grace. God promises in the Bible that when we say sorry for our wrongdoing, he is faithful and just to forgive us. His forgiveness gives us spiritual peace, but it doesn't mean we can escape from the complex consequences of racism, or injustice in any shape or form. But it does mean we can stop hiding behind statues and get to the crux of the issue: our own hearts.

White supremacy is in my blood; we need to get uncomfortable fast to defeat it

I wouldn't be here without white supremacists. My ancestors were 17th century, Eton-educated colonials. My ancestors were also poor Indian women, taken as mistresses by the English and Portuguese upper classes whose wives remained in Britain, kept in silks and butlers thanks to the treasures bled from the colonies by the Empire. This is the history of my Anglo-Indian maternal family, who lived in Calcutta until the 1960s, when my mother and her family moved to Britain courtesy of their British passports, only to be greeted by "No Dogs, No Irish, No Coloured" signs and a cold shoulder from the supposed "Motherland".

My mum met and married my dad, an Englishman who is pretty much as white as they come, and along came I and my brother. Growing up in a mixed race marriage was something I'm really grateful for. It showed me what it looked like for different cultures and backgrounds to meet and blend. When I was growing up, I didn't notice that my mum had brown skin. I don't even really understand this since I'm not blind, but I remember a clear moment when I was around 11 years old when I realised that the woman I simply saw as my mum might be seen as "the lady with the dark skin" by other people. Race and racism were discussed around our dinner table and experienced first-hand.

I came out freakishly white, considering the gene pool I emerged from. My brother has far darker skin than I. Perhaps for this reason, it took me a long time to embrace or be curious about my Indian identity and heritage. I've always felt like a fraud. Many people look at me and think I'm "a bit..." (their words, not mine), but I don't clearly look Indian and as such I've struggled to feel like I can openly own all the facets of my ethnic background. 

Reading one of the books below, Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People about Race, liberated me from this imposter syndrome by showing me that race is about far more than the colour your skin turned out. But the fact that I pale in comparison to most BAME people means that I too share the same privilege as white people in this country and the US and all around the world. I speak for myself and my experience but I cannot speak for anyone in the black community or any other individual from any ethnic group. It means that for me, the tears that have fallen in the past week do sting more personally, but it does not mean that I can deny my privilege or understand the difficulties and obstacles and threats that black people and minority groups face every single day all around the world.

Me, my Mum and my brother... back when you could get haircuts

It took me a while to decide whether I should write this blog. I don't want to compound the ignorance and I know I'm all too capable of being ignorant on these matters. But then I realised that if I blog about anything, I need to blog about this. Whatever forms of communication we use, whether it's face to face conversation, the phone, or social media - we need to be talking about this right now, and for good. For good. 

The trouble is that we are so scared of getting it wrong that we don't get it at all. I'm sure I've phrased things clumsily in this piece. But this afternoon, having stood in my kitchen crying tears of rage over Trump's proclamation that "today is a great day for George Floyd", I knew that I must say something. We all must.

So here are some of my thoughts on how those of us who don't experience difficulty because of our skin colour can act positively moving forward:

1) We need to get prepared to get uncomfortable 

It's not comfortable to discover that Britain pillaged the rest of the world and is built on the backs of slaves. The British school curriculum has serious gaps in its content on racial history, teaching the "greatest hits" of US black civil rights and the abolition of slavery. There is a gaping hole swallowing up that whole embarrassing Empire thing. We do not teach our children why India and Pakistan are two separate countries and why we are responsible, or why the "Windrush generation", so recently newsworthy again, had British passports. No wonder, then, that so much resentment and ignorance is being bred even among younger generations, when the structures of education do not breed understanding and historical context in its place.

Fact: when slavery was abolished, the British government agreed to pay a giant chunk of compensation... not to the slaves, but to slave owners. This was finally paid off in total in 2015, meaning our taxes have been going towards paying slave owners off until 5 years ago. Source here and thank you to Reni Eddo-Lodge's excellent book Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race for educating me on this.

What's even more uncomfortable is sitting and listening to, or reading, or watching, somebody who tells you of the struggles they daily face and how you can be part of the problem - if not by being actively racist, by failing to see the ordinary everyday issues and confront them; by not even noticing that every birthday card has only white people on it, that plasters only come in peachy-pink and that foundation shades are few and far between if you have dark skin. It's uncomfortable realising you didn't even realise. It's uncomfortable discovering that black explorers, NASA scientists and doctors have been edited out of our history books. It's uncomfortable checking our privilege. But it's absolutely essential. Comfort is not our goal. Justice and equity is. 

2) We need to get prepared to get it wrong and be called out

I was pretty shocked when one of my heroes, Emily Maitlis, got it so wrong on this week's Newsnight. Interviewing George the Poet (George Mpanga), she stated,

"‘You’re not putting America and the UK on the same footing… our police aren’t armed, they don’t have guns, the legacy of slavery is not the same."

Mpanga's bowed head said it all and he called her out on it respectfully and firmly. So many of us are capable of this kind of well-intentioned lack of understanding. We have to recognise we have no entitlement to get upset if we are told that we are asking the wrong questions and taking the wrong approach. Learning curves are best travelled with humility. If you want to correct me or challenge me on anything I've written here, please do. Tell me what could be better and what I need to change.

If we are starting with a statement, we need to turn it into a question. Sentences like "Racism isn't that bad in Britain" should be rethought as, "Please tell me what your experiences are of racism in Britain". A white person proclaiming the lack of racism in Britain is the same as a perfectly able-bodied person declaring all infrastructure wheelchair-friendly. It seems like there is no problem if you are not the one suffering the consequences.

Fact: if you are black you are twice as likely to die in police custody. If you are black you are 40 times more likely to be stopped and searched in the UK. BAME groups are twice as likely to die from Covid-19.

I can't speak for all POC but from my point of view, I find it hard that so few people have ever asked me about my ethnic background. It is just as much a part of me as having children is - and boy do you get asked about that if you have them. Not everyone will feel exactly the same about this, of course, but the idea that "we don't see colour" is at best unhelpful and at worst dangerous because it tells us not to see people for who they truly are. Colour is a part of who we are. It is not something to pretend doesn't exist because then you eradicate the problems around it as well as the joy of diversity. You're far more likely to make someone feel uncomfortable and offended by never ever touching on a subject that is highly important to them, than asking sensitively about it. And as in the above point, it's better to try and get it wrong and take it on the chin than not ever move things forward.

This story is a beautiful example of how more understanding can be fostered from these conversations.

The idea that we risk being villified for "political incorrectness" if we talk about race and racism is, in my view, just another form of white supremacy in the guise of white people who want to call the shots on what counts as acceptable. It's a way to silence the discussion and hide the structural injustices that people face every day because of their skin colour. The idea that POC will take offence and attack those who respectfully engage with us in this discussion is a fallacy that is in itself racist and perpetuates and protects racism.


3) We need to be pro-actively anti-racist

We want our children to see all people as equal, regardless of the colour of their skin... but how many books on our shelves have ethnically diverse characters? How many films have we watched with black or brown heroes? How colourful is our friendship circle? Do our kids know who George Floyd was and why he died? If we live in quiet, white villages, do we go out of our way to take them on trips to more ethnically diverse towns and cities? If we see racist incidents occurring, whether it's on the internet, in public or in private, do we call them out? Will we?


4) We need to be educating ourselves by listening to black and minority voices and then amplifying the black voice and the black community

Here are some ideas of where to start:

Why I'm no Longer Talking to White People About Race - Reni Eddo-Lodge

Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire - Akala

White Fragility: Why It's so Hard for White People to Talk about Racism - Robin Diangelo

Episode 102: Empire State of Mind on the Reasons to be Cheerful Podcast

George the Poet

About Race Podcast with Reni Eddo-Lodge

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

Becoming by Michelle Obama (this is now a documentary series on Netflix too)

Engage with these - there is plenty on all forms of media - and other voices and information. Only once we have begun to listen and understand and truly hear can we be true allies: standing alongside, sharing the message and widening the platform.

5) We need to be fighting for structural change

All people can be and generally are prejudiced. Black people can be prejudiced against white people, but it doesn't generally reduce their life chances. Conversely, when white prejudice exists it is twinned with power to form societal structures that drive people down and force them to the bottom of the pile; that take away opportunity, health, wealth and ultimately life. To fight racism we must challenge and dismantle these structures.

If you're in management or leadership at work, do you have diverse representation, especially in positions of power? Does your board actively seek to find people of different backgrounds to provide a voice? This isn't just about providing a voice for people of all communities, it's about the fact that diversity of experience and opinion enriches everything and makes us all better and stronger together. Do you have a good mix of ethnic backgrounds in your workforce, and if not, why not? That might mean quotas for interview; it might mean looking into your job application processes to find out why no one is applying who isn't white; and it might mean being really honest about whether applicants with names you can't pronounce are equally considered, consciously.

Fact: 69% of FTSE companies have no ethnic diversity on their boards and this BBC study shows that you are three times more likely to get a job interview if you have an English-sounding name than a Muslim name.

We can write to the powers that be and demand answers. Adidas currently has 5 white men and 1 white woman on the board. Nike has 7 white men and 3 white women. Let's ask why. Ask your employer. Ask your kids' school.

Let's support black-owned businesses. Let's support black female-owned businesses (black women are the victims of intersectionality, discriminated against by both their gender and race and struggling against the most obstacles to health, solvency and opportunity). Let's read books by a range of authors, watch movies and TV series that you might not naturally choose, and take the time to watch that Facebook video by Black Lives Matter that we would normally scroll past.

Let's get out of our comfort zone. Because every day, millions of people in the UK and around the world have to live in a world that's uncomfortable at best and fatal at worst. George Floyd's family know that; and so does every ordinary black and brown family in the UK.