A Body of Evidence

The late professor C.E.M. Joad, renowned as an atheist, wrote this:

"Man is nothing but:
Fat enough for seven bars of soap,
Iron enough for one medium-sized nail,
Sugar enough for seven cups of tea,
Lime enough to whitewash one chicken coop,
Phosphorus enough for one dose of salts,
Potash enough to explode one toy crane,
Sulphur enough to rid one dog of fleas".

Many thousands of years ago, when I first left school, I studied medicine at university. I only lasted two years, but ever since then I have kept a couple of quotes from my medical textbooks which say that before we even get to bring in religion, there is a lot more to it than what Joad said.

1) from "Textbook of Biochemistry and Physiology", a statement by Michael Forster, modified by R.C.Garry:
"We may speak of an organism as a complex structure, but we must strive to realise that what we mean by that is a complex whirl, an intricate dance, of which what we call biophysical activity, biochemical reactions, histological structure and gross confrigurations are, so to speak, the figures".

2) from Albert L. Lehninger, in "Principles of Biochemistry":
"There are some 10 to the power 13 cells in the adult human body, each consisting of a set of biomolecules in a specific proportion, each with a characteristic ultrastructure. Cells are grouped into tissues, tissues into organs, and organs into organ systems, their biochemical activities marvellously coordinated into an organism that not only is and does but also thinks and creates".

Some people find science to be evidence against God. I love science, and the more I learn the more I see it as evidence FOR God. What I suspect is that we have our faith, or our atheism, and then we look to science to back it up. To me, it seems obvious that DNA is so like a kind of amazing computer program that it points to a designer. I fully understand that atheists get irritated with my logic, but that's how it seems to me. We are amazing and our amazingness seems to me (though I appreciate that it doesn't to you, if you are an atheist) evidence of intelligent design. And of course, the Bible has this in Psalm 139 (my favourite psalm as I may have mentioned before):
"For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be."

Interestingly, that renowned atheist Professor Joad, who I mentioned at the outset, who possibly wasn't quite fully a professor, just as the winner of The Apprentice wasn't fully a graduate - I don't watch it but there's been interesting debates on the radio today about whether it's okay to lie on your C.V.. Even more interesting to me, Joad became a Christian at the end of his life, presumably concluding there was more to himself than he had first thought.

Death warmed up? The opposite in fact.

This caught my eye this week. You can be cremated or buried, or perhaps you can now go for promession in a prometorium and be frozen and then the resulting dust buried. Mmmm. My gut reaction was, "Oh no. I hate being cold". And yes, I did immediately think how ridiculous. To my knowledge I don't like being set on fire or buried six feet underground either. So, yes, my reaction was silly. I suppose it doesn't matter which option is picked since I won't know anything about it.

On the subject of death, it amuses me, though I do it myself sometimes, that folk say, "If something happens to me..." meaning "When I die". IF? IF?!

Statistics of Death
by Adrian Plass

Here’s a cheery thought. Only one thing in life is absolutely guaranteed. We are all going to die. I think you’ll find the statistics are very clear on this point.

You are more likely to die travelling by train than by plane
More likely to die in the winter than in the spring
More likely to die in a car-crash than from cancer
More lilkely to die watching Eastenders than The Weakest Link
More likely to be murdered than to win the lottery
More likely to die in China than in Spain

You are more likely to die if you starve than if you eat
More likely to die at Old Trafford than in an ice-cream parlour
More likely to die in the morning than in the afternoon
More likely to die in Luton than in Milton Keynes
More likely to die in a Polish sentry-box than a Morris 1000 Traveller
More likely to die of cold than of heat

You are more likely to die in blue than in green
More likely to die in bed than in Birmingham
More likely to die intestate than on a tandem
More likely to die in company than alone
More likely to die on a Monday than on a Friday
More likely to die where you are than where you have been

You are more likely to die if you are tall than if you are short
More likely to die of hate than of love
More likely to die choking on a marble than to spontaneously combust
More likely to die facing south than facing east
More likely to die on land than on sea
More likely to die from leisure than from sport

You are more likely to die doing the twist than the jive
More likely to die at home than in any other place
More likely to die with friends than with strangers
More likely to die with an apology than with a blessing
More likely to die with a question than an answer
You are most likely to die if you are alive

To free or not to free...

WARNING, by Jenny Joseph, 1961.

WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN I SHALL WEAR PURPLE
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

That's a very well known poem, and it's a good 'un. It just summarises so beautifully the lovely "don't care any more" thing that we start to enjoy as we get older. Now I'm in my forties (I know it's hard to believe from my Shy-Anne picture) I am already finding I don't care a tenth as much as I used to what people think of me, though I still care. The growing confidence, which I suppose is what it is, is such a liberation.

Yesterday I watched the prisoners being "libbed" (liberated) and embracing their waiting relatives (please God help them stay on the straight and narrow and not be back) and it is a moving sight, actually. Liberation, of any kind, is amazing. The liberation that a hip replacement or other operation can bring, the liberation of escape from a violent relationship, the liberation of leaving a job you hate, the liberation from worrying about what other people think, and - one of my interests as a Christian - the liberation from guilt. Jesus said he came to set people free and that if he sets us free we'll be free indeed. It's so sad that people don't seek freedom when they can. Freedom is surely worth the seeking. (Unless you're a prisoner, in which case absconding or escaping's not such a good idea as waiting till your're libbed legally!)

William Wallace: Aye, fight and you may die, run, and you'll live... at least for a while. And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willin' to trade ALL the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take... OUR FREEDOM!
[crowd cheers]

Trip down memory railtrack, this one.

In a former life (no, I don't mean I believe in reincarnation - I just mean it feels like it was in a former life) I travelled into and out of Glasgow by train, for school, work, uni, off and on (no pun intended) for various periods between 1974 and 1990. From time to time (!) over these years there were delays and boring, cold waits at train stations. The station in the picture is one of the ones I waited at, though it had the benefit of a bus stop outside to which I could bail out and try my luck at. It was during this time that I found this poem and think it is just fab. Enjoy. Can those in other countries relate to it too, I wonder?

British Rail Regrets, by Steve Turner

British Rail regrets
having to regret.
British Rail regrets
it cannot spell.
British Rail regrets
the chalk ran out.
British Rail regrets
that due to a staff shortage
there will be no-one
to offer regrets.
British Rail regrets, but will not be sending
flowers or tributes.
British Rail regrets
the early arrival
of your train.
This was due to industrious action.
British Rail regrets
that because of a work-to-rule
by our tape machine
this is a real person.
British Rail regrets
the cheese shortage
in your sandwich.
This is due to
a points failure.
The steward got
three out of ten.
British Rail regrets.
Tears flow from beneath
the locked doors of staff rooms.
Red-eyed ticket collectors
offer comfort
to stranded passengers.
Angry drivers threaten
to come out in sympathy
with the public.
British Rail regrets.
That's why its members
are permanently dressed in black.
That's why porters stand around
as if in a state of shock.
That's why Passenger Information
is off the hook.

British Rail regrets
that due to the shortage of regrets
there will be a train.

I'm from Venus and He's from Mars but that's fun!

WICOE (Women In Charge Of Everything)

Is proud to announce the opening of its EVENING CLASSES FOR MEN! OPEN TO MEN ONLY. ALL ARE WELCOME.

Note: due to the complexity and level of difficulty, each course will accept a maximum of eight participants

The course covers two days, and topics covered in this course include:

DAY ONE

HOW TO FILL ICE CUBE TRAYS
Step by step guide with slide presentation

TOILET ROLLS- DO THEY GROW ON THE HOLDERS?
Roundtable discussion

DIFFERENCES BETWEEN LAUNDRY BASKET & FLOOR
Practicing with hamper (Pictures and graphics)

DISHES & CUTLERY; DO THEY LEVITATE/FLY TO KITCHEN SINK OR DISHWASHER BY THEMSELVES?
Debate among a panel of experts.

REMOTE CONTROL
Losing the remote control - Help line and support groups

LEARNING HOW TO FIND THINGS
Starting with looking in the right place instead of turning the house upside down while screaming - Open forum


DAY TWO

EMPTY MILK CARTONS; DO THEY BELONG IN THE FRIDGE OR THE BIN?
Group discussion and role play

HEALTH WATCH; BRINGING HER FLOWERS IS NOT HARMFUL TO YOUR HEALTH
PowerPoint presentation

REAL MEN ASK FOR DIRECTIONS WHEN LOST
Real life testimonial from the one man who did

IS IT GENETICALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO SIT QUIETLY AS SHE PARALLEL PARKS?
Driving simulation

LIVING WITH ADULTS; BASIC DIFFERENCES BETWEEN YOUR MOTHER AND YOUR PARTNER
Online class and role playing

HOW TO BE THE IDEAL SHOPPING COMPANION
Relaxation exercises, meditation and breathing techniques

REMEMBERING IMPORTANT DATES & CALLING WHEN YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE
Bring your calendar or PDA to class

GETTING OVER IT; LEARNING HOW TO LIVE WITH BEING WRONG ALL THE TIME
Individual counsellors available

Freedom!

Freedom!
by Sharron R. McMillan

The door is wide open
And yet the bumblebee
batters itself against the front window,
the side window,
and finally the window on the open door.

It amazes me
That a creature made to be borne
on the breezes of outdoors
does not instinctively fly
to the source of those breezes
flowing through the open door.

Instead
It batters itself
On the closed illusion of freedom.

The door is wide open
Yet people
batter themselves against their sin,
their own created religions,
and their unbending wants.

It amazes me
That those created to be borne
on the gentle moving of God's Spirit
do not instinctively go through God's open door to freedom.

Yesterday, today, for ever...

As I've said before, I enjoy reading the blogs of police, paramedics and teachers, as many of these people are feeling the same sort of bewilderment I am (and no doubt you are too) about the ills of society.

Here, however, are some quotes from the days when blogs were presumably kept on paper or even parchment rather than in cyberspace:

"In every department of our nation, industry, commerce and agriculture, there is no hope."
Disraeli in 1852.

"The world is passing through troublesome times. The young people of today think of nothing but themselves. They have no reverence for parents or old age. They are impatient of all restraint. They talk as if they know everything, and what passes for wisdom with us is foolishness to them. As for the girls, they are immodest and unwomanly in speech, behaviour and dress."
Peter the Monk in 1274.

"When I look at the younger generation, I despair of the future of civilisation." Aristotle, in the year 300BC.

A long time ago a very wise man, in his interesting wee book called Ecclesiastes (found in the Jewish and Christian Bibles) said this: "What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun."

I find that oddly comforting.

Three cheers for C.S. Lewis

C.S. Lewis is one of my favourite writers. Here's some quotes to illustrate why.



From his great autobiography, "Surprised by Joy" a fun one about a dog he used to have: "I think he had one friend of his own species, a neighbouring red setter; a very respectable, middle-aged dog. Perhaps a good influence; for poor Tim, though I loved him, was the most undisciplined, unaccomplished, and dissipated-looking creature that ever went on four legs. He never exactly obeyed you; he sometimes agreed with you."


Also from his autobiography, talking about his conversion, this one appeals to the Calvinist which lurks beneath the surface of me: "Amiable agnostics will talk cheerfully about 'man's search for God'. To me, as I then was, they might as well have talked about the mouse's search for the cat."


There are loads more I could mention, and may do another day, but here's a great one from "The Lion, the Witch and the "Wardrobe":
"'They say Aslan is on the move - perhaps has already landed.'
And now a very curious thing happened. None of the children knew who Aslan was any more than you do; but the moment the Beaver had spoken these words everyone felt quite different. Perhaps it has sometimes happened to you in a dream that someone says something which you don't understand but in the dream it feels as if it had some enormous meaning - either a terrifying one which turns the whole dream into a nightmare or else a lovely meaning too lovely to put into words, which makes the dream so beautiful that you remember it all your life and are always wishing you could get into that dream again. It was like that now. At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in its inside. Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realise that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer."

The Devil's Beatitudes

Here are the "devil's beatitudes":
Blessed are they who are too tired and busy to assemble with the church on Sunday; for they are my best workers.
Blessed are they who are bored with the minister's mannerisms and mistakes; for they get nothing out of the sermon.
Blessed is the church member who expects to be invited to his own church; for he is important to me.
Blessed are they who do not meet with the church on Sunday; for they cause the world to say, "The church is failing."
Blessed are they who are easily offended; for they get angry and quit.
Blessed are they who do not give to carry on God's work and missions; for they are my helpers.
Blessed is he who professes to love God but hates his brother; for he will be with me forever.
Blessed are the trouble-makers; for they shall be called the children of the devil.
Blessed is he who has not time to pray; for he shall be easy prey for me.

Incidentally, the right version, for those of you unfamiliar with it, is as follows:
Matthew 5:3-11 (The Message)

You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.
You're blessed when you feel you've lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.
You're blessed when you're content with just who you are—no more, no less. That's the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can't be bought.
You're blessed when you've worked up a good appetite for God. He's food and drink in the best meal you'll ever eat.
You're blessed when you care. At the moment of being 'care-full,' you find yourselves cared for.
You're blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.
You're blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That's when you discover who you really are, and your place in God's family.
You're blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God's kingdom.
Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don't like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble.

Happy Easter!

The stone was rolled away, not so that he who was in could come out, but so that we who were already out could see that he who was in was no longer in but was now out!! Clear?


Poem for Easter

Tell me:
What came first
Easter or the egg?
Crucifixion
or daffodils?
Three days in a tomb
or four days
in Paris?
(returning
Bank Holiday Monday).

When is a door
not a door?
When it is rolled away.
When is a body
not a body?
When it is a risen.

Question.
Why was it the Saviour rode on the cross?
Answer.
To get us
to the other side.

Behold I stand.
Behold I stand and what?
Behold I stand at the door and

knock knock.

Steve Turner

Guess what. It's Easter at Church.

Christmas is really
for the children.
Especially for children
who like animals, stables,
stars and babies wrapped
in swaddling clothes.
Then there are wise men,
kings in fine robes,
humble shepherds and a
hint of rich perfume.

Easter is not really
for the children
unless accompanied by
a cream filled egg.
It has whips, blood, nails,
a spear and allegations
of body snatching.
It involves politics, God
and the sins of the world.
It is not good for people
of a nervous disposition.
They would do better to
think on rabbits, chickens
and the first snowdrop
of spring.

Or they'd do better to
wait for a re-run of
Christmas without asking
too many questions about
what Jesus did when he grew up
or whether there's any connection.

Steve Turner

You're on a beach. Er, no I'm not!

Advance, sincere, apologies to those of you who really love guided meditation.

This is for all those like me with monkey brain and a touch of the smart alec thrown in, who just can never get into them. I got it from the Ship of Fools website and it's by Andrew Rumsey. It made me laugh.

The Beach.

GOOD EVENING. I'm just going to be leading you in a brief guided meditation, to take away the strains of the day: a chance to remember that with faith, nothing is possible.

It might help if we begin with some simple breathing exercises. Just become aware of the rise and fall of your breathing and allow the stresses of the day to leave you as you exhale. You may immediately feel the need to breathe in again. Try to resist this temptation and, so that you are completely relaxed, simply continue to breathe out as I count: one... two... three... four... five... six... seven (continue counting for as long as you feel is necessary for people to be resting in peace).

And now, having relaxed, I want you to shut your eyes and imagine that you're on a beach, a lovely sandy seaside, somewhere in Britain. In the quiet, perhaps you'd like to name which seaside it is – either out loud or in the silence of your hearts (feel free to mention one or two locations to encourage others – Frinton... Cleethorpes... Clacton and so on.)

What's the weather like on the beach? Is it raining? Yes, of course it is... What do you notice as you wander along the beach? Looking up you see a flock of lovely seagulls swooping and diving overhead. It's almost as if they have been put there just for you – a lovely feathery gift. And one of them appears to have a gift for you, too. Something inside you wants to raise your hand to your forehead to wipe it off, but how wrong that would be. No, you will leave it there, you will accept the gift – and perhaps say aloud with me – thank you, my seagull friends (repeating with emphasis) thank you, my seagull friends.

In a way you are now one of them, and so you begin to gently jog along the beach and, with your new friends, start to flap your arms up and down... Perhaps you'd like to do this now – just flap your arms up and down like... like a nutter. No one will mind – all our eyes are closed...

NOW THEN, HERE'S A LOVELY SCENE. In front of you is a family group building a wonderful sandcastle. What time and care they have taken with it – all those seashells gently pressed into the walls, the seaweed and driftwood carefully collected and pushed into place. A little flag flutters from the tower – and the father and his children step back to admire their work. But something is wrong; somehow you feel sad... And then you notice what it is – their sandcastle has walls around it... walls to keep others out. All that beauty and creativity – shut in behind high walls. How sad...

In an instant, you realise that you cannot leave this scene – these people need your help- to take their walls down. So, with the seagulls' lovely gift freshly dripping from your forehead, arms still flapping up and down, you gently swoop across... and flatten the walls of the sandcastle – freeing the seaweed and driftwood from its sandy prison and strewing them around the beach to share with everyone.

A strange feeling of peace comes over you – but not, you notice, over the father and his children who you have helped. What do you notice about them – are some of them crying? Are some of them cross? How hard it is for others to break down their walls – how hard it is for them to thank you for having helped them. But a seed has been sown in their lives, nevertheless, something they won't forget. And as they pick you up and hurl you bodily into the sea, you realise the need to flap your arms again – in a different way... Amen.

This is fab!

Check out this poem. I think it's great and I've read it to prisoners in three different prisons over the last few days. Him Indoors read it in church on Sunday too. Powerful stuff.

I AM a fellow prisoner, actually!

“The best way to judge a society is how it treats its prisoners”, said Winston Churchill.
“The degree of civilisation in a society can be judged by entering its prisons”, said Dostoevsky.
The Bible gives us a pretty good basis for treating prisoners well even if their crime, their attitude and their behaviour offend us. We've to remember prisoners as if we were their fellow inmates but why?

Here's an EXCELLENT reason! We ARE their fellow prisoners!

Romans 7:21b-23 says: "When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God's law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members." What was that? I'm a prisoner too? Well, yeah, I suppose I am. And if I am it's certainly easier to remember those in prison as if I were their fellow prisoner. Too right I am. "For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing" (Romans 7:18b,19).

I guess I'm just lucky that the things that tempt me aren't illegal so my sins are not crimes. But I'm in prison just the same, like good old Paul before me.

Practice Makes Perfect.

Last night I went to see Runrig in concert. It was fab. I'm not a huge fan to be honest, though I saw them once before in concert (about 20 years ago!) and I think the only song I could have named off the top of my head would have been Loch Lomond.

However! There's something really cool about live music, isn't there? Not only that but it was my daughter's first concert and I reckon she'll soon not want to be seen in public with me as she's getting to that age, so I realised I better enjoy it while I had the chance.

But above all it struck me that watching people do something they're good at and clearly enjoy is often inspiring whether their thing is your thing or not. Eric Liddell said when he ran he felt God's pleasure. I reckon God feels pleasure in seeing people using and developing and polishing - and ENJOYING - the gifts He has given them.

I think a lot of us fall down on the polishing bit - we want the gift fully formed, not self-assembly, flat-pack. Well I do, anyway. But that's not how it works, is it? Runrig clearly love what they do and what they do is fab, but they've practised a bit I reckon. I love my job but I can see that six months hasn't made me the polished article and patience and practice are what's needed!