Episode 129 - The Day God Was Silent

Of all the celebrations throughout the year, Easter has to be my favourite. I love different aspects of all the others, but the simple matter is that Easter is the most important. It’s the day that we remember all that God has done for us; making a way for us to know Him by His son taking on the punishment for our mistakes by dying on a cross. It’s the centre point of history and the point around which history revolves. It’s the point at which the greatest most impossible victory was won for us. There are three days of the Easter celebration; Easter Friday when Jesus died, Easter Sunday when Jesus rose again and Easter Monday when we all get a day off work (that last one was a joke, but a joke with a purpose). 

The third day is Easter Saturday, a day that we often forget about, but it’s a day that means a lot to me, a day that is sometimes referred to as the day that God was silent. You see, in the middle of this most incredible event that sits in the middle of time itself, there is a day in which nothing seems to happen. Jesus has died but not yet been raised to life. And there is a day where God seems to do nothing. At the very centre point of time, everything stops. Jesus’s followers have just seen one of their best friends killed for a crime He didn’t commit. And in the midst of coping with that loss they have to come to terms with what seems to be an even greater and more perplexing loss. 

The person they (correctly) thought was the messiah had been killed without achieving all that the messiah came to do. They had poured their lives and souls into this truth and now He appeared to be defeated and they appeared to be wrong. And God said nothing. And they could be forgiven for thinking that God was doing nothing either. Yet, in the middle of all this, God was working out the salvation for all mankind. He was silently doing the most incredible thing in human history, turning what seemed to be its greatest defeat into its greatest victory. Between Jesus’ death and resurrection, He was doing everything that had to be done to pay the price for our mistakes. And humanity had no idea.

One of my favourite stories in the Bible is that of Balaam’s Ass, largely because it involves a talking donkey. It’s an incredible story of awe and wonder telling the incredible lengths God goes to to protect the children of Israel. But for me the most incredible thing about the whole story is not the talking Donkey, but that for all the wonderful things God does, the Children of Israel are completely unaware of them all and were intended to be so. Life for them just continued as normal, they didn’t even know of the threat let alone the lengths God went to to keep them safe. I often wonder how much God must do for me without me even knowing.

There have been many times in my life where I have felt completely overwhelmed and in over my head, where I have cried out to God and He seemed to be silent. But looking back, those times were when He did some of the most incredible things, I just couldn’t see them. I imagine that for many of us life in the Pandemic must feel like a time of Gods silence, but whenever it does remember what God did nearly 2000 years ago at the very centre point of time.

Episode 128 - Found in Translation

There is a poem by Pablo Neruda which I have always loved. It’s called; Tonight I can Write. Well actually that’s not exactly correct. It’s really called; Puedo Escribir. You see, Pablo Neruda was Chilean and as such, he wrote in Spanish. This fascinates me. That I can read a work of art in a language it wasn’t written and yet still see its beauty. It also raises an important question; who is to credit for its beauty, the author or the translator? The poem was translated by William Stanley Merwin, who was a celebrated poet in his own right, and yet is rarely thought of when considering this great work of poetry. Perhaps rightly so. The poem although translated is still clearly that of the author and so first and foremost he deserves the credit, just as it is. After all, a bad poem cannot be made a good one even by the most skilled translator. Yet, by equal measure, a good poem can very easily be ruined by a bad translation. And so I think great credit deserves to go to W. S. Merwin for not just bringing a classic poem to those of us who do not speak Spanish, but for creating a beautiful poem that well resembles the original by doing so.

This thought of the translators shared labour along with that of the author in order to produce something of worth and value has long stayed with me. In many ways my life is a poem, and I am a translator. God made me, and He made me to be like Him. The bible refers to us as God’s craftsmanship, His work of art and a reflection of Himself. But whether or not what God made me to be is lived out by what I say and what I do, is dependent upon me. Will I be a good translation or a bad one?

Episdode 127 - Loosing Ourselves

These are indeed strange times. Times of great change. And in some ways, even for those of us who haven’t been affected directly by Covid-19, times of significant loss too. We have lost our ability to travel freely. We have lost our ability to meet up with friends. We have lost our routines. We have lost our sense of security both in health and in wealth. But more than this, I think most of us, maybe even all of us, whether known or unknown, have started to loose parts of ourselves.

A couple of years ago I was very seriously ill. To the degree that I wasn’t really able to do much and was stuck for the most part alone in my room, and so this idea of self-isolation is not a new experience to me. As my illness grew worse and my isolation increased, I noticed myself loosing different aspects of who I thought I was. To begin with I had to stop work, and in doing so I lost those parts of my identity which were connected to my work, because often our work is both a huge part of both our lives and who we are. I am an engineer, and so I lost my identity as someone who solves problems and finds solutions, as someone who is good with his hands, as a team leader, and as someone who is respected for their work. As my illness got worse I lost the ability to spend time with people and I not only suffered damage to my relationships, but I also lost the part of my identity that was good with people, that was charismatic and brought joy to other people.

My illness was much worse than the situation we are now in, but I think that in some way, these are losses to ourselves that many of us will face over the coming weeks. Towards the end of my illness I wasn’t really able to do anything much at all to the extent that I lost pretty much all of me. At least most of what I thought made me who I was. Perhaps the worst thing about this was the thought that I had lost every good or attractive quality that I ever had. That there was nothing of me now that was either useful or desirable. But it was in that place that I found out the most incredible thing of all; it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that I had nothing to offer anyone or wasn’t able to do or give anything. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have anything at all, because I still had the one thing that mattered most of all, the thing that was never mine to lose; God’s love for me and my identity in being loved by God. Because at my very essence, that’s who I am. Not any of all that other stuff, which simply grows out of who God made me and who I am in this place of simply being loved by God. Not loved because I had something to give Him, not loved because He needed me or because I know what the difference between the Monegasque and Indonesian flags are. But just loved because He loves me. So in a strange way I had to loose myself to truly find God. And to know that no matter how isolated I am, I’m not alone.

Whilst we're talking about not being alone, check out my friends new song called Not Alone here

Episode 126 -Curiosity Killed the Cat

This week I've been looking after a friend's cat while she's been away. It's amazing how much you can learn just by spending a week with a kitten Not to mention how many challenges I had to overcome each day, possibly the greatest of all being tying my shoelaces in the morning! Of course I learnt a few tricks and developed some new skills to help me on my way, the most commonly used being the art of distraction. For whilst kittens are tenacious and abounding in energy, and despite being able to chase the same piece of string for hours on end, they have very little focus. In fact, with the slightest noise or movement, they will completely forget what it was that they were doing. Struggling to leave the house without them sneaking out too? Simple, just pick up their favorite toy, hurl it into the adjacent room as though it was a hand grenade and then sneak away like a ninja in the night whilst your cat is distracted.

As I watch this kitten chase it's tail whilst precariously balanced atop a scratching post I can't help wondering if I need to be more kitten or less kitten. I wonder if my own tendencies to get distracted by the slightest thing are preventing me from achieving the things I want to our are taking my time away from the people I care most about. And yet by equal measure I can't help admire something about her enthusiasm about everything. Perhaps I've lost something. Even the most plane and boring things seem full of joy to a kitten. Perhaps the mundane things in my life are only so because I fail to see the joy that are hidden within them?