"It’s not if I believe in love, But if love believes in me" U2

James went to the pub with his brother and some friends last night. I collapsed into bed at 17.30 and slept for an hour and a half. This week had finally caught up with me! I eventually dragged my sorry self back out of bed to cook and eat supper and settled down to watch 'Brokeback Mountain' or 'That Gay Cowboy Film' as James disdainfully refers to it. I have to say it didn't live up to its hype for me and although I understood its themes and reasons I just got really annoyed with Heath Ledger mumbling away all the time.

James came home a little worse for wear and told me that he'd had a conversation about religion with two of our friends. I enquired further as to what the conversation had entailed and found out that one person had no belief in God whatsoever. Their argument was that they knew the difference between right and wrong without needing a religious code to tell them that. They further argued that in places in the world where people developed without any knowledge of God or Christianity they still developed a moral social order and knew the difference between right and wrong within the boundaries of their society. James admitted he has been somewhat stumped at these ascertains.

After thinking for a minute I turned to him and said that I too had known the difference between right and wrong before I had believed in God. I had morals and stuck to them. My faith does not provide me with a set of morals, it provides me with a hope, a future and a reason for living. I went on to say that I believe that God created the world, and so I believe that He created those people whom Christianity has only recently reached. Therefore they know right and wrong because God has put that within them. I believe He created us all in His image.

'It's a shame you weren't there,' James said.

It goes back to the fact that even if I don't believe in God He believes in me. He created me, He wants the best for me and He loves me. I cannot change that and it is not dependent on whether I know Him or chose to acknowledge Him. This is a really difficult concept. I do not have to do anything to win or gain God's love or relationship. I am offered a free gift that I do not deserve and all I have to do is reach out my hands and take hold of it. Our friend's lack of belief in God does not prove that there is no God. The have chosen to believe in nothing but nothing cannot believe in them. If they ever change their mind then God will be there, the same as He always has been, ready to make His love into a two-way relationship.

Evangelical Atheists

This post comes with a warning. This is not an intelligent, intellectual or informed discussion about the above topic. It is a gut reaction to this article on the BBC Website: Atheists call for 'debaptism'
The man in the article wants to be De-Baptised. He doesn't believe in God and is upset that this ever happened to him. It has taken him 50 years to get around to this so I get the feeling that it can't have been too pressing! Southwark Diocese has refused to remove the record of his baptism.
And quite right too.
Nick Baines, the Bishop quoted in the piece, is the Bishop of Croydon. He is a sensible, sensitive, thoughtful and realistic man. He says:
"You can't remove from the record something that actually happened,"
Too right!
Baptism is not a membership card. It doesn't give you free entry to heaven. It is not the end of a road, it is a door being opened, with a path that you may or may not follow beyond that doorway. The man, Mr Hunt, chose not to follow this path, but there is something about his actions and his vehement opposition that makes me wonder if he is still worried by it. Is he wondering what might happen if he took some steps down it? Would he be forced to face situations, truths, and questions that would trouble him and his almost religious certainty that there is no God?
The article says he went to confirmation classes, and is quite contradictory saying he went to confirmation classes but also decided early on he
'had no place in a hypocritical organisation.'
Seems a bit odd to me. Why didn't he stay home for Sunday lunch instead.
When I was confirmed in 2002 I had many questions. I too was baptised as a baby in a Catholic Church. My parents gave me chances and opportunities to find out more, but equally let me choose not to believe or worship. God too gave me this choice. Throughout the time that I chose not to believe, not to walk with Him, He did not forget me. There was no big catch up on His part when I started talking to Him again in my early twenties. He waited, patiently, and let me ask all my questions. Most importantly as I made the choice to be confirmed (in the Anglican church) God did not present me with a membership card, manual of all the answers and a map of my path. He took my hand, helped me to step over the threshold and start walking His path making no promises that the path was easy. I struggled with the fact that I did not remember my baptism, that it was in another denomination, that I had spent so long not believing. The words that comforted me most came from the creed which we say at communion:
'We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.
We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.'
I came to realise that it didn't matter that I didn't remember it, or that the decisions then weren't my own. They were a start, and confirmation was the next step.
I was at the Baptism of a child last Sunday morning, a couple from my home group's daughter. It was so exciting to see her now and dream of all that she may become. It was more exciting to see her in the context of her family, and her wider church family. To feel the love that she sits within. It was great to be part of the congregation welcoming her and encouraging her. I love the liturgy for the whole congregation to say :
"Do not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified.
Fight valiantly as a disciple of Christ
against sin, the world and the devil,
and remain faithful to Christ to the end of your life."
I feel like it could be a big cheer at a Rugby match - "Go on girl, you can do it!"
And most importantly whichever path she chooses, however she decides to live her life, whatever she decides to do she will be loved, supported and accepted. By her family and by God. At no stage will she be able to delete or rub that out.

Back to the article! It says:
'The Church wonders aloud why, if atheists and secularists believe baptism is so meaningless, they are letting it upset them.'
and goes on:
'Mr Hunt supplies his own answer.
"Evangelical noises are getting louder and louder."'

I have to agree with the Church on this one. To me it seems that strong Atheist Organisations are the ones making loud Evangelical noises. They seem to be getting very worried about the people of a God they don't believe in and shouting louder and louder in an attempt to convert people to believing in nothing. Which still requires faith. I don't understand, and like I said at the beginning this is not an informed or intelligent discussion. All I do know is that I worship a living God, one with a thick skin and a sense of humour. I know that he exists because I talk to Him and He responds and my life has been better, lighter and more exciting to live since I took His hand and stepped over the threshold and started walking His path. Maybe Mr Hunt should go back, take a look at that path again and instead of trying to delete a historical record, make an informed and adult decision about where he is going to put his faith and hope, and then just get on with doing that, letting his actions and the way he lives his life be his witness.
Hannah x

Spring

As I walked out of college with my friend at lunchtime on Friday I was stopped dead in my tracks. The street was quiet, there was no commotion and I was feeling fine. "The sun!" I exclaimed, "I can feel the sun on my face!" It was the most wonderful feeling, and the warmth radiated not just onto my face but into my soul. I love the feeling of well being that the sunshine brings and the knowledge that spring is trying to push its way into being. Winter seems long and dark, and although I have achieved an enormous amount this winter the promised arrival of spring is very welcome. The last few weeks of the winter have been a strange time. On Sunday February 1st it started snowing, and didn't stop until half way through Monday 2nd. James and I woke up to a world hidden under a duvet of snow, no car noise, no trains, no buses. The bright cold whiteness filled our house. We started off on a journey to the supermarket and ended up sledging and snowballing with our friends and building an 8ft snowman outside our church, who was named 'Trevor Mapsnow'. As we returned home that afternoon to defrost and try and get on with life it felt odd, and that oddness didn't go for over a week. I felt disrupted and displaced, and despite the fun and laughter that the snow brought, I felt very uncomfortable, out of sync. College ended up very topsy turvy and culminated in a morning that left me on the verge of tears. Later that week I received some sad news. It was not entirely unexpected news but my reaction to it, and the feelings it brought with it were. The situation left me confused, and I found myself feeling very uncomfortable with a sense of loss I had not anticipated. The situation felt very awkward, and the confusion felt dark and sad. Several things happened over the next few days and most importantly instead of trying to shoulder all my emotions I poured them out to God. I had a conversation with a close friend which was helpful, although did not give me answers. As that week wore on things started to change, and out of a difficult situation God started to do His work. He created opportunities, blessed conversations, and gave answers to those who needed them. After just ten days what had seemed like a hopeless situation was bringing new life, new opportunities and new hope. It feels like everything is going to be OK, and where God was seemingly absent He is evident and at work. I guess its a bit like Spring. In the depths of winter, when we feel like we have been cheated out of our fair share of sunlight, when the trees are dark and naked, when there are no flowers and people huddle up under hats and scarves, there feels like there is very little hope. On the darkest coldest days it is difficult to remember that this will end, that there will be sunshine again. And then when you have had enough, just when you are least expecting it the sun comes out, bulbs start to push their way through the barren soil, daffodils dare to flash their bright yellow petals for all to see. And as the warmth of the sun hits our faces we remember that there is hope, there will be warm sunny days again, and that God is always working, renewing and bringing light to our darkness.

New Class

I met my new class on Tuesday morning. This is the class that I will teach for 12 weeks in two blocks and they will take me all the way through to qualifying as a teacher!

I hadn't been nervous until my train was pulling into the station - the same station I go to several times a week. A sudden realisation hit me that this class were the ones with whom I will discover my teaching style. my strengths, my weaknesses. They are the class with whom I will have good lessons, and truely awful ones.

There are two other trainees in my school so I am not completely alone. My mentor is also the 'lead' mentor for the school so all three of us went to meet her first. As the other two were taken off to their rooms and I stood alone in an empty classroom I felt very alone. I had a sudden cold dread of panic. 'Do I really want to do this?' I thought.

After leaving my last placement school on a high I am back at the bottom of the pile.

The morning was good. I am going to be OK. I know that I am not alone. I have the support of my mentor, SCITT and my fellow trainees. I also have the support of my husband, my family and my friends.

I also know that hundreds of trainee teachers have gone before me. Standing at the front of a class for the first time, armed with a lesson plan and a nervous smile. I know that I will make mistakes, but I'm ready to learn from them.

Utalitarian Faith

More and more I am learning that my faith is a very practical one. I do not have the gift or prophesy, or speaking in tongues. I am too forgetful to pray with any consistency. I am not a theologist, nor blessed in apologetics. I am not a preacher, or an evangelist. I am not a youth leader or a children's worker.
More and more I realise that God is asking me to show my faith by just getting on with life. Just doing what I'm doing.
If you want to give this a label then my gift is partly 'hospitality'. This isn't just baking, or cooking. It isn't having people over for dinner. It's listening to someone when they really need it, it's offering my computer to the person who needs to send a job application form, its allowing my brother in law to come over, make his own coffee and eat my leftover desserts. It's doing coffee after Church when fewer people than ought to say thank you, or allowing one person to eat at least 1/6th of the cakes I spent time and effort baking without getting angry. It is even more than this too.
The other part of my faith is just getting on with it. It's being a wife to James, loving him, making his lunch, ironing his shirts, saying a kind to word to him when he's upset. It's about listening to my husband when he offers me advice, comforts me and even when he tells me no!
It's also about me being right where God wants me to be right now. Training to be a teacher. Going to lectures, writing my assignments and doing my best. It's about trusting that God will find me a job. The right job.
I've been at Carotty Wood this weekend with Connexions, the 14-18 yr olds Youth Group at Church. I was cooking for 50+ people with my dream team of Rach and Janette (thanks girls we rocked!) When I wasn't in the kitchen, sleeping, or writing my essay I spent time in the group meetings. The theme was Gladiators! On Saturday night Steve spoke about Philip. He finished his talk with clips from Cool Runnings (best film!). His message from the film was this:
‘A gold medal is a wonderful thing, but if you are not good enough without it, you are not going to be good enough with it.’
You can substitute Gold Medal for any other thing you covet, or desire.
Steve was saying (and please correct me someone if I've got this wrong) that with God we are good enough. We don't need anything else. What we do need to do, like Philip, is listen to God and do what He asks us to do. We shouldn't put him off. We shouldn't say to God I'll do that: 'When I have a job...'. 'When I'm older...' 'When I have a house...'
I sat thinking after Steve's talk and it dawned on me: James and I answered God's call over a year and half ago. We followed a path He laid out for us. James is now in the Police and I am training to teach. We don't have great wealth, or possessions but we're comfortable and in our own home. Greater than that we have the Love of God. We have the assurance of His presence and the comfort of His grace. He has the power to take it all away, and I pray that He doesn't. Right now, at the start of 2009 James and I are walking God's path. The going isn't always going to be easy but if we keep checking we're going the right way then the destination will be immense.
Hannah x
p.s. For more on the lessons in Cool Runnings look here: http://coolrunningslive.com/index.php/lessons-from-cool-runnings

In my Prime!

I am a prime number again. Yesterday was my 29th Birthday. I am not big on birthdays but I had a lovely day. I was due to be in college all day but our ICT lecturer was poorly so I had a free afternoon.

Now no girl should have to study on her birthday so I used it wisely!

James was on a day off so he met me and a few of my course mates in a lovely pub in Wandsworth called The East Hill, where we had a yummy lunch (BLT with Sweet Potato Chips anyone?) The beer is good, and so is the atmosphere. It was fun.

After lunch James and I caught the train into town for a trip to the National Portrait Gallery. I am not a big cluture vulture. I can't tell you who my favourite artist is, or what museum does the best coffee. But occaasionaly an exhibition comes along and I think that it would be fun to see.

I love photos. I am not great at taking them but I love to do so, and to see them, feel them and study them. Annie Leibovitz is a world reknowned phtographer. Mainly she takes great pictures of famous people for magazines like Rolling Stone and Vanity Fair. Whenever I see her pictures in the press, or a magazine I am intrigued by them. They are beautiful and poignant. Some of her most famour pictures include Demi Moore pregnant in 1991 and The Queen in 2007. This exhibition is called Annie Leibovitz. A photographer's life, 1990 - 2005. What made it really special is that it is not just showcase for all her amazingly famous stuff, but interweaves her personal collection. Pictures of her parents, her siblings, her daughters and her friend and lover.

Wandering round it suddenly struck me what it is about photographs that fascinates me. It is something to do with a moment being caught in time. A moment that cannot be recreated, that will not happen again. And more than that: looking back at photos the people in them could not know what would happen to them, how thier lives would pan out, how they would play a part in history.

In a side room off the main corridor of the gallery there were two portraits hanging on the wall. Side by Side. Two men in Military Uniform. Norman Schwarzkopf and Colin Powell. Taken in 1991. Colin Powell's eyes are glossy. Was he crying? What was he feeling? Norman Schwarzkopf is proud. Chest puffed out. I am too young to remember the detail of the first gulf war but I know both these men played a part. Were they thinking about that when the camera went click? Did Colin Powell realise he would be Secretary of State. That he would see planes fly into the Twin Towers? That there would be another Gulf War?

THere are beautiful pictures of non famous peopel too. I love the one of her mother taken in her later years. She is not smiling but peers curiusly at the camera. Her age, experience, elegnace and knowledge is etched on her face. It is a beautful picture.

I took James with me to the exhibition. He likes art more than pictures. It was good to have him there to muse over my thinking. To share my thoughts and ideas. As we were leaving he pointed to one (the one on this blog post) and said

'I like that one best?'

'Why?' I asked.

'I just do,' he replied.

And that is the beauty of pictures, love, life and everything.

Sometimes you just don't need a reason.

Eulogy

I gave the Eulogy at my Grandma's Funeral this morning. You will recognise alot of it. People liked it. Lots of people commented on it. That and the fact I look like my Grandma. She was beautiful, I'm glad I look like her:

"My Grandma died last Monday and I've not yet shed a tear.
My Grandma was a woman of God, and last week He called her home to be restored to Glory with Him.
My Grandma had Alzheimer's disease. This meant that her true character and her soul have been fading for many years. This has been sad to see and experience. There was nothing any of us could do except feel frustrated and helpless. I am thankful that my uncle, my mother and my father spent time with her towards the end, just being with her.
My Grandma was a great woman, with a strength and grace that used to scare me until I eventually understood what it was. As a child I remember her as always being immaculately turned out, hair done, make-up on. She was sometimes stern but always compassionate and I was never in any doubt as to her love for me and my sister irksome as we were!
She had the most amazing experiences throughout her life, as a child in Ireland, a young woman coming to England, as a passenger on a boat torpedoed and sunk in the Irish Sea, in the East-end during the Blitz (although I can’t imagine her as an extra in Albert Square), as an army nurse in the Queen Alexandra’s Royal Army Nursing Corps, at the D-Day Landings – how many people can say that both their grandparents were there? as a wife to my grandfather Tony and a mother to my Uncle John and my mother Aeileish and finally as a grandmother to both me and my younger sister Alice.
Throughout her life she stood strong in her faith and worshipped with conviction and duty. When Alice and I were young we always came to church with her. We were both baptised in this very church. Around the age of nine I stopped coming to church. I remember the feeling of dread telling my Grandma. I’m not sure if she was cross but I have a feeling she kept praying for me.
I came back to faith at the age of 21 and my grandmother’s example has always been an inspiration to me.
As the Alzheimer's began to creep onward, stealing more and more of her essence I began to pray more to God for her. Not for healing but for her restoration.
When I was about six years old I stood in the kitchen of my Grandma's house as she prepared supper and said
"Grandma how long will you live?"
She looked at me, pinny on, tea towel in hand, and said:
"Well I might live long enough to see you married."
To a six-year-old girl, that seems like a long long time.
As I prepared for my wedding eighteen months ago I asked God to let her know that it was OK. I was getting married, and if that was what she had been waiting for, to keep her promise to me, then it was all OK she could go now.
A few months ago she had a fall and broke her hip. Her Alzheimer's made it difficult for the medical staff to communicate with her, they are unprepared and under trained. I prayed that she wouldn't be in too much pain and that God would give her peace and rest.
I hadn't thought about her for a few weeks until last Monday morning. Sitting at the bus stop thoughts of her came into my head and I prayed.I prayed that God would call her home soon. That He would restore her, that he would end her pain. As a caveat I said "Well maybe not before Christmas though, however your timing is perfect Lord. Your timing is perfect."
My Dad's phone call last Monday afternoon was not a surprise and I have felt an enormous sense of peace since. God's timing is perfect.
He put her on my heart and then He called her home and I am thankful that she is safe, healed and restored.
I have not shed many tears; my sadness is outweighed by my awe and wonder at the power of my God, my Grandma's God and our Saviour.
Your timing is perfect Lord.
As the words of my favourite worship song say
"Till he returns, or calls me Home
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand.""

Angel

God sent me an Angel yesterday morning. The Angel was my father in law.

Let me explain:

I am in my last week of my teaching placement (more about that later) and I am struggling to fend off the lurgy. I am tired. James is working nights which means he gets home at 3am.

On Tuesday night I showered before bed and treated myself to an extra 20 minutes in bed. At the incessant ringing of my alarm I hit the snooze button and as it trilled out a second time I hit off. An hour later at 7.20 am I woke up. Train leaves at 7.49 at least a ten minute walk away.

My hair looked like a hedgerow in a hurricane and I had to have tea to function.

After rushing around, straightening hair, gulping tea and packing lunch and brekkie I was about ready to leave when I had a knock on the front door.

" Who the heck is that? Where are my keys? What do they want?" I thought.

On opening the door I saw my father in law with a bit of carpet - don't ask - long story. Thinking I don't need this right now I tried to be bright and breezy.

Then my father in law utters the word:

"Would you like a lift to the station?"

YES!

So I get transported to the station, giving me time to put my hat and gloves on.

And I get there 2 minutes before my train is due to leave.

I called James to let him know I was OK and what had happened.

"So God answered my prayer then? " he says.

Yes I guess he did, an Angel at my door.

Hannah x

Advent

This year my church has joined the Advent Conspiracy. This is a challenge to take back Advent. It is a challenge to use Advent as it was intended, as a time to prepare for the coming of Jesus, not Christmas!
Our church booklet says:
"Advent is a time which we set aside, to call upon God to break into our lives and our world, to renew and restore us, and to rid the world of evil and establish the new heavens and earth. We look for that breaking in of God in the coming of the Messiah in Bethlehem, and in the coming of the Messiah at the end of history....... Advent is a time of pilgrimage and spiritual preparation – not just a time to plan the practicalities of Christmas! Enjoy this opportunity to be refreshed and revived by God."

In addition to resources to help us pray at home, there is also an Advent prayer room accessible 24 hours a day but additionally with times of led prayer. I am going to spend some time in there this Advent. I might join commuters prayer tomorrow morning at 7am. I might take a night watch as James watches over London on his first real shifts. I want to spend time on my knees, waiting, watching and listening. I want to hear God, and what he has to say to me. I want to invite Him back into my my heart this Advent and take Him with me wherever I go, and give His love to whoever I meet. Come and join me?

Hannah x
Check out Advent Conspiracy for lots more about this - watch the video on the home page. It will make you think.

Friendship

Wikipedia says that


"Friendship is a term used to denote co-operative and supportive behavior between two or more beings."


The Cambridge Advanced Learner's Dictionary says a friend is


"someone who is not an enemy and whom you can trust" and "a person whom you know well and whom you like a lot, but who is usually not a member of your family"


Once again it's Facebook that has got me thinking, and blogging about Friendship. On my Facebook I have all sorts of friends. there are people I was at Uni with, my mooses, my SSAGS friends, and some of the rugby girls. There are the Beccs Ladies. There are people on SCITT with me this year. There are lots of my church friends, and friends from Croydon. There are also a small number of friends I went to school with. They are my 'friends' because I share, or have shared some sort of an experience with them. I have met every single one of them in the flesh. There are some people on there I know much better than others. There are some I see and share time, food, and laughter with regularly. There are others who are further away geographically but whom I'm love dearly and Facebook allows me to keep in touch with them, their lives, their lows and their highs.

There are people who are my friends on Facebook, whom I have not spoken to face to face with for a long time. Lots of these are the people I went to school with. At school I had very few close friends, and my best friends came from my Venture Scout Unit. It was with them I had the most fun and formative years of my life. However looking back through my wedding photos I was a little saddened to see that there was not one person with whom I had shared my school days there, apart from my sister. On the other hand I have achieved so much since I left school, and even university. I have changed enormously as a person and I love the me I am now much better than the me I was at 18, or even 20. Does this mean that I should ditch or ignore those people who were part of the fabric of my past? Does it means that people I shared experiences with at that time, should no longer be considered 'friends'?

A few weeks ago the opportunity arose via Facebook Chat to 'talk' to someone who I have not had any real contact with for about 8 years. This person and I were friends at school, never best friends, but we shared experiences, and laughs together. 8 years ago this person helped me out when I was in quite a low place. Shortly after this I did something that hurt this person. I am not proud of my actions, my timing or my behaviour. A few months later I met James, and by the time that year was out God was in my life. Although I had made my peace with God for what I did, I had never fond the strength, courage or opportunity to apologise to this person, this friend. The virtual conversation we had on Facebook was not easy, pleasant or jovial. Some long hidden truths and anger came out. I was forced to face the consequences of my actions from a different phase of my life. I apologised. I have forgiven myself for what I did but asking for someone else's forgiveness, when it's 8 years late, is not fun and appears to be a very pathetic exercise. I am glad we had our conversation, for me it feels like I have shut a door that was still slightly ajar.

So does that mean that me and this person can continue being 'friends'? Have the last 8 years without contact destroyed this status between us? Or is it that by trying to shut a door, I have in fact opened it wider, leading to more pain and questioning? I now find myself somewhat under attack from this person. They do not understand my faith, or the journey I have been on in the last 8 years. Our lack of shared experience in this time seems to have destroyed the friendship we had before this time.

I like having friends. I like the variety they bring to life. I feel lucky to have gathered so many shared experiences during my life so far. It would be sad to lose one but if the rift is too deep, if our differences are greater than our similarities, if we cannot understand how each other has grown and changed then maybe we find ourselves sharing nothing more than the past and staring into a future without each other.

Hannah