Bus theory

Forgive me for a slightly more morbid musing than usual – maybe it’s because I recently finished reading The Fault in Our Stars. But I have a theory, which I have just nicknamed ‘bus theory’, which inspires the way I see the world and the way I make decisions.

The theory goes, quite simply, that you can’t bank on anything definitely happening to you, or not. You can make reasonably informed guesses and you can weigh up odds and memorise statistics, but ultimately, you can’t know for sure, because you’re not in control. You might get hit by a bus tomorrow (hence the name of the theory). The world might come to an end – and no one knows when that will be, not even Jesus (see Matthew 24:36).

There are some pretty big implications of bus theory to the way I live.

Bus theory asks that when I make decisions, I base them not on assumptions that my life will pan out in Cinderella fashion. 

Bus theory prevents me from making conventional choices just because they are statistically safer.

Bus theory leaves me free to marry Prince Charming even if the likelihood is he will die before me. (Bus theory actually means I can marry Shrek or the Hunchback of Notre Dame, because I can’t guarantee that tomorrow I won’t be in the same boat.)

Bus theory makes me feel better about not always managing to eat my five-a-day.

But bus theory also means being ready to face what comes. Worrying less about what might happen to me tomorrow, because I have no authority over that. Worrying less about the future altogether, because I know that my ultimate destiny is to be with Jesus forever.

Full steam ahead

On holiday I set myself a challenge to take pictures of various boating-related expressions. Some were easy...some not so easy. Sadly, what would have made a great example of “any port in a storm” was impossible to snap (even if I had had the presence of mind) by the fact that a) it was a storm, and b) I was trying to reach the port. May I present just a few of the results in an incomplete photographic account of life on the water...

Full steam ahead (at 2.5mph)

We gave them a wide berth

Light at the end of the tunnel

I’m a lock half-full kind of person

Like ships passing in the night (or day, as it happened)

They went swanning off

Water under the bridge

Whatever floats your boat...

Postcard from home

Greetings! 

Nearing the end of a pleasant week of normality here. Weather is wonderful – bright sunshine every day after a drizzly time away last week. Much enjoying sitting down for most of the day – it makes a nice change. And what with everyone else being on holiday, the incoming workload is (thankfully) light.

Great variety of food here too – so far this week have enjoyed Chinese takeaway, IKEA meatballs and lots of vegetables.

Yesterday I visited a WWI exhibition by the lake on my lunch break which was really interesting, and I listened to some of my favourite music in my office. I’ve also had time to catch up with a few friends.

Back to a holiday next week – still, work has to end some time!

Wish you were here!

Much love,
Off the Rails

We’re all going on a summer holiday...

In my mind, summer always shines as a glorious time of holiday and of rest from work. I look forward to the summer months as a time of refreshment and more carefree living. Of course, now I’m resigned to the working adult life, this is not true at all – but this feeling remains, as a hangover from the ingrained patterns of the education system. And although I currently have a more relaxed workload over the summer, it is no longer automatically a time of complete rest – with a fixed allowance of annual leave, it’s not even possible.

However, summer sees teacher-friends off work and our wonderful weather at its kindest (perhaps), so I do my best to retain this glorious vision of the summer holidays. Already it is late July (how did that happen?) and I’ve got itchy feet...

First stop: a working holiday – a change is as good as a rest, right? – to this beautiful place, to help out at the thinkivp bookshops at the Keswick Convention:

I hope I never quite grow out of the summer holiday dream. There’s just something magical about travelling somewhere different, rebooting your system with a break from routine and gathering more tales of life.

Pick up the phone

Sometimes it can be hard to pick up the phone and call someone. You had a fight, or you’re worried they are too busy for you, or you just can’t find the right words to say.

It’s been said (or rather, sung) that “prayer is like a telephone”, and although this offers us privileged anytime access to our heavenly father, we often find that, as with our physical telephone, we are often hesitant to pick it up and dial. (Forgive me if today’s metaphor seems a bit over-simplified – I found this helpful.)

Here are some of the excuses we frequently use, with obvious reminders of why they are absurd:

1. We had a fight (aka, I’m too sinful).
You are a sinner. God is holy. This much has always been true. But Jesus died to cover you with his perfect righteousness (2 Corinthians 5:21). No fight is too big for God to forgive.

2. He’s probably busy.
Don’t get me wrong, God is busy, in the sense that he does a great deal. But, in ways that I will never quite grasp this side of eternity, he’s the best multi-tasker ever. He is never too busy to listen to his children.

3. He won’t want to listen to me.
God loves us as much as he loves Jesus (John 17:23). We are his dear children, and he is never too tired/busy/stressed/exasperated to listen to us. When we humbly approach him, he always hears what we have to say.

4. I doubt he’ll help me with this.
One of my favourite God-as-Father images in the Bible is this one from Matthew 7: “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” The Bible doesn’t say God will always give us whatever we want – for starters, we’re always wanting the wrong things – but he delights to give us good gifts, and he’s working for your good.

5. I can’t find the right words.
God made you, and he knows everything about you. He already knows what you’re going to say to him, and he loves to hear you say it. But don’t panic if words fail: Paul says the Spirit of God intercedes for us when we can’t find the words (Romans 8:26), which is pretty amazing in itself.

We really have a wonderful gift in prayer – what are we waiting for?

Left behind?

“It’s hard being left behind. I wait for Henry, not knowing where he is, wondering if he’s okay. It’s hard to be the one who stays.” – The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

“Carol Brown / just took a bus out of town / but I’m hoping that you’ll stick around” – Carol Brown by Flight of the Conchords

Perhaps it’s a sign that I’m happy with where I am in life (or at least apathetic about it, to look at it cynically), but it always shakes me up a little when those around me want to make big changes. For one thing, it can be sad to think the people I love are not where they want to be. I also do not particularly like change; I’m fairly happy to continue plodding on forwards, and I tend to assume others are too.

But there’s also a selfish feeling that comes into play when friends make life-altering decisions – one that’s rather uncomfortable to admit. It’s a voice that I squash to a whisper, and even then, generally only to myself. Don’t they care about me?

When another friend gets married, moves back home, or takes a job somewhere far away, my insecurities immediately make me question the value of that friendship. And it feels such an ugly thing to admit that it often remains unspoken, but the selfish core of me desperately wants to be reassured.

Deep down, I know that we all have different calls on our lives, and that other things – jobs, marriages, service, health, family – are calling them on. Even I have moved away from my original home – and not because I didn’t love the people there.

Perhaps these changes are meant to serve as a reminder to me not to get too comfortable with my life, and not to find my value solely in my relationships with those around me. My true identity is in Jesus Christ and the life he has won for me. He’s blessed me with wonderful friendships to enjoy, but it is ultimately in him that I have all I’ll ever need.

Squeaky clean

A few weeks ago, I made my first ever visit to the dental hygienist. An uncomfortable quarter of an hour in a dentist’s chair and thirty-one pounds later, I can’t honestly say I feel it was worth it.

You get scraped and flossed and polished, and sent home with squeaky clean teeth and instructions to maintain them. You must floss. You really must. And brush like this. Are you happy with the cosmetic appearance of your teeth?

But you still have to dutifully go back in six months’ time, or in a year (or four, if you’re anything like me). No matter how much you clean your teeth or how many products and methods you use, it is never enough. You can’t keep them clean to the dental hygienist’s standards.

Which is true of our lives in general too, of course. We can try to clean up our act, impose rules on our behaviour, really discipline ourselves – but we never truly win without Jesus. We certainly can’t reach God’s perfect standards on our own.

But in Jesus, God does more than scrape away the surface dirt and shine us up on the outside. He gives us a new heart and makes us clean on the inside.

“I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols. I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.” (Ezekiel 36:25-27)

God purifies us and we are made righteous once and for all, although we are still works in progress. And we daily return to him, not to have him dust off the excess of our selfish behaviour, but to remember Christ’s perfectly clean sacrifice on our behalf, and to submit to him once again.