One Little Life

We had rats. Anyone who has poultry and a pond has rats. If you also have several mild winters, you then have a rat problem. Mr Rat Catcher came with traps and poison, but we still had a rat problem. So, we decided to get cats.

We found some cats that had been born in a stable, not feral as they had been well cared for, but they were used to living outside. We bought two, Milly and Molly, brought them home, and put them in the garage. For three days, I didn’t see them, and wondered if they had escaped! Then I took the dog into the garage with me, and two tiny kittens tentatively appeared. They had been raised on a farm with German Shepherd dogs, and they recognised Kia as a friend. Gradually they learned to like us too. When they were bigger, they moved to their home in the workshop.

Two cats wasn’t really enough to cure the rat problem, so we didn’t spey Milly and Molly. After about eighteen months, both were pregnant. Between them, they gave birth to four live kittens. Both cats are tabbies. Their kittens were a mixture of silver tabby, smoke and black. They had clearly never read any of the parenting books about how to care for kittens, and regularly sat on window sills where the kittens couldn’t reach them. I had to check them frequently and reunite mothers and kittens so they could feed. They weren’t really keen on any of them. Apart from the black one.

Milly had given birth to the black kitten, but they both wanted him. So they would hide him. I would go into the garage and all the kittens would be mewing in a heap, the mothers would be sitting somewhere high, and the black kitten would be missing. I found him at the back of shelves, in empty boxes and behind gardening equipment. When I put him with the litter, Molly would try to steal him, ignoring her own kitten.

Eventually the kittens were weaned. I decided we had too many cats, so gave one kitten to a friend, put two kittens with the mothers to live in the workshop, and kept one kitten inside, as a house cat. I chose the black kitten (I wanted him too!) We called him Mungo.

Now, everyone thinks their pet is special, (and people without pets think they are slightly mad.) So I won’t bore you with details of how Mungo would ‘beg’, reaching up with his front paws when he wanted to be picked up. Or how he would chase a plastic egg for many hours. Or how he loved the dog and would dive bomb her paws when she was sleeping. Or how he regularly killed the kitchen towel. Or slept in a very ‘uncatlike’ manner, on his back, with all four legs outstretched, often in the dog's bed. Or how he adopted Husband ("not a cat person") and ran to meet him when he arrived home from work and sat on him all evening. But he was special to us, and we loved him.

Initially, the plan was to keep him inside, for him to be a house cat. Then one day he escaped. I found him outside, playing with his siblings. He looked so happy, it seemed cruel to keep him locked inside. But the traffic in the farm lane worried me. So we decided that at night, when there were very few cars (about 4 per hour) he could go outside. During the day, when the roads were busier, he would stay inside.

We soon had a routine going. Every evening, Midge, his brother, would loiter around the cat flap, waiting. When we went to bed, we would let Mungo into the utility room, so he could use the cat flap. Every morning, around 6am, when we let the dog out, Mungo would run in. His siblings often were with him, it was like they were saying ‘Bye’ to him when he came inside. He would then eat, drink, and follow us around, asking to be picked up. Then he would nap for most of the day.

Until the last day. Until the day when he didn’t come in when we let Kia into the garden. The day when a man knocked on the door at 7am, to ask if I had a black cat.

I rushed outside. Some landscapers had found him, on their way to work. They had parked their vans in the lane and were carrying him in a sling made from an old towel. There were about nine of them, young men in their green uniforms. It was so kind of them to bother. Sometimes people are nice.

We could see Mungo had, at least, a broken leg, so we rushed him to the vet. As we drove, he took my thumb into his mouth, like a child holding my hand. Then either pain or fear became intense, and he bit down, both sides, straight through my thumb. It hurt.

He spent all day at the vets. Apparently, the most dangerous thing for a cat is shock, so they kept him warm and sedated, planning to operate the following day. He died that evening.

It was a bizarre day. I ate four doughnuts and drank lots of coffee. Completely missed lunchtime, it was suddenly mid-afternoon. I had walked the dog and cleaned out the birds and was wishing we had something other than Mr Bump plasters in the house for my sore thumb. Felt weird, sometimes fine, sometimes contemplating losing all the other people and animals I care about. Everyone dies. It’s always horrible. There isn’t a way to protect yourself, not without being hard.

I wondered where God was in all this. The thing is, we aren’t protected from the rubbish in life. God helps us get through it, but we aren’t ‘owed’ by God, whatever our relationship with him. He isn’t a genie in a lamp, we cannot pray and ‘make’ God change things. Life is horrid sometimes. It hurts. It’s tough. We can only try to survive and recover from the hurt. But I do believe he cares. When we hurt, God hurts too. It doesn’t have to be lonely even if it is always hard. I did pray, but in a sort of wordless, lifting the sadness sort of way - a young child raising their arms to a parent sort of way.

In time, I will thank God that I had Mungo, even though a year was too short, his life was too little. But do I have the right to say that? Sometimes, when we are hurting, we feel the loss more than we ever felt the joy. Mungo was a cat. In a few days, life will be back on kilter. I will carry the loss of my father's death for the rest of my life. However, I have no 'rights' here, I did not create any of the things that I have loved, I can feel pain, sadness, loss. But should I feel anger? Whilst it is a natural part of the grieving process, there comes a time when I should let that go. We have never been promised a pain free life, not here, not now.

If you have had a pet, I don’t need to explain the sorrow, the tears, the huge hole that he has left. My thumb was sore for days, but the pain was sort of helpful. It was something physical that recognised the pain I felt inside.

There is no happy ending here. Sometimes in real life there isn’t. I wish I had never let him outside at night. But then, I am glad that I did. He had such a happy little life. He climbed trees and played with his family and did everything that cats are designed to do. I know, eventually, I will think of him and smile. I will recognise that he gave us one year of lots of joy. But right now, I miss him. Thank you for reading.

     

    

    

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If you are interested, you can read why I think prayer doesn’t work at:

https://anneethompson.com/christian-tearfund-materials-and-poems/why-i-think-prayer-doesnt-work/

The Sword Pierced Heart

 

I watched my son die today. My beautiful boy, beaten, battered and left to die. My heart broke.

I held my cloak close and I remembered the weight of him as a babe, like a boulder on my hip, wriggling to be free, to run and jump and climb. Those legs will run no more. Those limbs, I was so proud when they grew. I remember when he grew as tall as me, then taller even than Joseph. I remember watching him, stretched out as he ate, those long limbs seemed to go on forever. "I grew him," I used to think with pride. Those limbs will not sprawl relaxed in my home ever again.

I watched his hands, the hands that used to pat me cheekily on the head when he'd grown tall. Those strong hands which laboured with wood, which helped me carry heavy loads, which lifted young children playfully. They are no longer strong. I saw them bang nails through the flesh, even felt that I heard the sound of bone shattering over the thump of the hammer, heard his ragged breath as they forced the cross upright. I wondered if I too might die.

But I watched. I am his mother and I would not leave him alone. When they tried to take me home, when they told me to shield my eyes, avert my gaze, I did not. For he was my son. I would never leave him alone, not at such an anguished hour of need.

Others watched. Some women were there, terrified and hanging back. Not me, I am his mother. I stood with John, where he could see me. What could they do to me that was worse than this?

Some watched who hated him. They mocked and spat and called abuse. It could not hurt him now, I thought, let them shout.

"He trusts in God," they called, "Let God save him now," and they laughed, even as he died they laughed.

Though even God deserted him by the end, and that was hardest to bear. He called out with a loud shout, asking why God had turned from him.

"My God," he called in anguish, "why have you forsaken me?"

But I was there. I did not leave. I saw them crucify him, naked upon a cross. No mother wants to see her grown son naked, but still I did not look away. I was there at the beginning, I would stay with him until the end.

The soldiers took his clothes, for fabric is costly and even that of a criminal should not go to waste. Most they tore and shared between them but not his tunic. They cast lots for that, not wanting to spoil something precious. Yet my son was precious and they destroyed him.

It began last night. They woke me from my sleep and warned me there was trouble. He had been arrested, taken from a meal with his friends and questioned by the temple authorities. They feared the invaders, so he was then referred to a court of Godless law, a place that feared no God. They told me that he was scourged, beaten with whips that removed chunks of flesh as they struck. He was mocked and abused, then brought to this place.

I came, stumbling through streets full of people, full of noise and smells and fear and hatred. I came to this place, this Godforsaken hill beyond the city wall and I saw my son, my boy, diminished, shrunken somehow. I saw that what they had told me was true, smelt the repugnant stink of excrement mingle with the metallic stench of blood. I heard the shouts of abuse, the curses of the guards, the screams from the prisoners, the wails from friends. And him, like an oasis of calm amidst the turmoil, suffering but at peace.

And he saw me. Those dark eyes that as a baby had watched me intently when he fed. Those eyes that twinkled merrily when he teased me and became serious when he wanted to explain something important. Those eyes, red rimmed with exhaustion now, turned to me. Even hanging there, with parched mouth and dried lips, he spoke to me. His voice was hoarse, for he had refused the wine they offered, but I heard him well. A mother knows her child's voice.

I stood with John and my son told me that this was to be my son now and he was to care for me as a mother. Even in his torment he cared for me, fulfilled his duty as my son. Still I would not leave.

Then it ended. The sky had turned as black as my world and he drew his last breath. It was finished. Those who had mocked became silent, some cried, some beat their breasts in despair. The blackness of the sky frightened them and many fled, wondering at what they had done.

Then I left, I let them lead me away. My soul was broken and my heart beat even though I bid it stop. My boy was gone, my firstborn, special baby, was no more. I carried that knowledge like a rock within me, I would have rather died in his place. How could I live, continue with my life knowing he is gone? There would be no more sunshine or laughter, nothing matters now. The core of me was gone. I could not even cry.

Afterwards, I could not rest and I heard strange stories. They said the soldiers pierced his side, to check there was no life in him. His blood had separated so they took him down, a solid corpse that had no life. A man came and took the body, they said they followed and knew where he lay, in a tomb that was guarded.

They told me of strange things, of the temple curtain torn in two, of dead men walking and boulders breaking open. I do not know. I only know my boy is gone. That is all that matters.

It should not have been like this. It was so recently that people praised his name, sang and danced before him, treated him like a king. It should not have ended like this.

And yet, I recall a song, it comes persistently to mind, sung often in the synagogue. It speaks of one forsaken by God in his time of need, scorned by many. He belonged to God from before he was born, then suffered at the hands of many. They sung of bones poured out like water, a heart of melted wax, that is how my boy would have felt. They sung of hands and feet pierced like his and enemies gloating over him. They sung of lots being cast for clothing and of God's ultimate victory. They sung of remembering him for ever, not just now but families of every nation, even those presently unborn. For he has done it. Is this my son's song? Were the words written for him?

He spoke of his death often, he tried to warn me that he would die. But not like this, not before my own time has come. No mother should bury her child, it goes against what is natural and right. Though, he showed no fear, he knew what his end would be. And he told me there was more.

As I turn now to sleep, I wonder at his words. Will he truly return somehow and will I know? Has he finished what he was sent to do?

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If Mary was a young teenager when she learned she was pregnant (which would fit with the age girl's became betrothed in those days) then when Jesus died aged thirty-three, she would have been about forty-seven. How does a woman of that age cope with the things she was forced to witness and how much would she have understood at the time? I am about her age, I have sons, contemplating their dying is too horrible for words. I am sure she loved her boy as much as we love ours.

Crucifixion was a ghastly way to die. We learn in the Bible that Jesus, who never sinned, who never did anything wrong, died to save the world. What does that mean?

You can learn more at:http://anneethompson.com/how-to/378-2/

However, many people were crucified, some probably unjustly accused. So is it the death that was important or was it that God became separate? I think that this is the key issue here, the part of Jesus that was God left him. That was more terrible than crucifixion. That is what each of us deserves and what we do not have to suffer if we choose to come to God.

If we want to know God, we can, even if that means changing our minds.

You may not believe in God, but God believes in you.

The song which Mary recalled in the story was Psalm 22. It has some striking similarities to the account of Jesus' crucifixion. It was written about one thousand years before the event. (wow) It begins: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

It finishes: ".....future generations will be told about the Lord. They will proclaim his righteousness to a people yet unborn- for he has done it."

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Which is Your View of History?

A View of History…..

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Which is your view of history? It seems there are three main views (do let me know if you think there are more.)

The first idea is that time is like an old fashioned clock. It has been wound up, the pendulum is swinging and slowly, slowly, it is winding down. There was a beginning to life on earth and there will be an end. That is all there is to it. How individuals live and behave is pretty meaningless in terms of history. In millions of years from now, there will be no life on earth and no one to remember it. There will be nothing.

The next idea is that time is circular, more like a spiral. Everything that happens has happened in the past and will happen in the future. Events repeat – possibly after thousands of years, but basically the same things happen over and over again. Whilst this clearly doesn’t apply to specific inventions (the Romans had central heating but no internet!) in terms of humanity, empires rising and falling, people doing the same things over and over, history repeats.

I guess this idea is behind the philosopher who said,

“Every river flows into the sea, but the sea is not yet full. The waters return to where the rivers began, and starts all over again. Everything leads to weariness – a weariness too great for words. Our eyes can never see enough to be satisfied; our ears can never hear enough. What has happened before will happen again. What has been done before will be done again. There is nothing new in the whole world. ‘Look!’ they say, ‘here is something new!’ but no, it has all happened long before we were born. No one remembers what has happened in the past, and no one in days to come will remember what happens between now and then.”

The last idea is that history is more like an arrow that has been shot from a bow. It is going somewhere. We might not see the big picture, but there is a clear aim, there is somewhere that all this life on earth ultimately leads to.

So, which view is your view? I’m not sure if it’s possible to hold the third view if you have no belief in God or an afterlife. What do you think? I would be very interested to hear from anyone who does hold that view and who doesn’t believe in God. It is certainly the view held by religious people but if there is no God, I’m not sure where life could be leading. What do you think?

I thought about this a lot when I was a teenager. Actually, I was a very unhappy teenager – all those hormones whizzing round made for a very troubled person. I also could never summon enthusiasm for things that I felt had ‘no point’ (a common view amongst middle children I believe.)

This was something of a problem at school and I frequently skipped lessons and rarely troubled much about homework. It wasn’t helped by our family having very little money. Why learn French if the only foreign country you are likely to visit is Wales? I was also brought up to believe that the best thing for girls to be was a wife and a mother, so what use was chemistry going to be? (I do now, as an adult, think that being a wife and mother is an excellent thing to be. However, I also think that other careers are also excellent. I do sometimes wonder if I might have made a good journalist, going around the world and giving other people a voice. Some better qualifications would have been helpful. Too late now…)

I did actually, for a while, get very depressed. I was brought up in a religious family, but we were pretty much taught rules and knowledge. I really couldn’t see the point of life. If the point was to have fun, and I clearly wasn’t, then why bother? If there was a Heaven, why not just go there straight away?

No one ever told me (or at least, if they did, I never heard) that there was a plan and that I was part of it. I never heard anyone explain the last view with the addition that the God who had ‘shot the arrow,’ actually had a purpose for me, there was a point to being alive, right now, even if I didn’t always see it. I wish someone had told me that. That’s why I’m telling you.

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Letters to a Sister : 45 – Spring Cleaning

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Most of my life needs a spring clean. I have spent the last two years mainly recovering from brain surgery (which takes a lot longer than you might think) and then writing books. My house has the level of cleanliness that you would expect from someone who basically ‘does the basics’ but never has time to sweep the cobwebs off the ceiling or tackle the underneath of the beds. Actually, I have never liked housework. My boys are at uni but I still have piles of clothes they out-grew when they were ten. As for exercise – forget it!

So, I decided to do something about it. I cannot tackle the whole house – that would drive me to despair. But I can do one small thing every day. Yesterday I swept the cobwebs. Today I plan to wash all the shelves in the fridge. Tomorrow I will wipe finger marks off the light switches.

I have also tried to start exercising properly. Every morning I go on the exercise bike for twenty minutes, then do some floor exercises. My muscles now ache and my bum is sore. But I feel better for doing it. Today I dug out my big padded cycling shorts, the ones I wore years ago when cycling from London to Brighton. They saved my bum further discomfort. You can imagine how sexy they looked – even more lumps in strange places on my middle-aged body! Might not wear them if anyone else is in the house……

Another ‘exercise’ I have started is reading the above book, which a friend recommended. It’s excellent. It’s written by someone who understands middle eastern customs and life style and has put the teaching and life of Jesus into context. I love things like that.

I try to read a couple of pages every morning, with my coffee (illy) and breakfast biscuit (BelVita). They all set me up for the day. Today I read about the verse “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.” The author points out that we need to eat and drink regularly, it’s not a one-off activity. I find this terrifically reassuring. Whilst my knowledge about God related things is pretty extensive (we were after all, steeped in it pretty much from birth and then I went on to teach Religion), my level of righteousness is not up there! The thought that this is okay, that constantly needing to search is what God expects, is wonderful.

He then goes on to define “righteousness” (it’s not a word that comes up over dinner very often, is it!) He says it’s not the “going to church, don’t drink alcohol, never swear” stuff, it’s the stuff Micah talks about in his book – loving justice, showing mercy, walking with God. That’s what I need to be seeking, as often as I eat and drink.

So, there you are, I am feeling positive. Am all ready for the week  the day  well, the next couple of hours.

Take care,
Love, Anne x

PS: The ducks are laying. There is one blue egg in the aviary, am hoping the rats don’t eat it.

PPS: A flock of sheep are now living in the field that joins our garden. Kia (GSD) spends all day monitoring how close they are to the fence!

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You can read my sister’s letters at : http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk

The Rich Man

 

     Once upon a time, there was a man. A very rich man. He was also a very holy man. He trusted God with his life and tried his best to follow what he was taught. The man was now very very old. As the man grew old and weak, he realised that soon he would die. He trusted that when that happened, he would go to Heaven. But he was worried. He did not like the idea of going empty-handed, of not taking anything with him.

     "God," he prayed, "I know that when I die you have promised to accept me in to Heaven. And I know that I am not meant to take anything. But please, could you make an exception in this case? Could you let me take a bag with me?"

      Now, God is a kind God, so he considered the man's request very carefully. He knew that the man had tried his best to follow him during his life, that he had been generous and kind, that he had shown mercy and tried to live a good life. He knew that the man was very worried about this and God didn't want him to be anxious. So he agreed, he told the man that he could take one small bag to Heaven.

      Soon after this, as expected, the man died. He arrived in Heaven, carrying one small bag.

     "Oh," said the angel at the entrance, "you cannot bring that in here. You cannot bring anything to Heaven."

     "Yes, I know," replied the man, "but God gave me special permission."

     So the angel went to check and sure enough, he discovered that this man was allowed to bring one small bag into Heaven. Now, word quickly spread amongst the angels and saints in Heaven and they all wondered, what had this man brought into Heaven? So they all came, eager to see.

     They crowded round the man, peering over each other's shoulders, jostling for position as the man knelt down and slowly unzipped his bag. There, shining brightly, were four solid gold bars.

     There was a moment of complete silence.

     Then,perplexed, one of the angels asked, "You brought pavement?"

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      I love this story. I heard it in church, I cannot even remember who told it but I used it many time when teaching because I think it makes a good point. When we decide to follow God, we sometimes have to let go of things and this can be hard. Whether it is our ambitions, dreams, or wealth , there is actually no point in holding on to them. What God provides is always so much better.

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Letter 37

Letters to a Sister : 37

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This is a reply to my sister’s letter, which you can read at:
http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.ca/2016/01/star-wars-handbags-and-my-word-of-year.html

Dear Ruth,

Thanks for your letter. It’s funny but I was thinking much the same things this week. I don’t think I could choose one word for the year though, for me it would be two : Nothing Lasts.

The same conclusions as you really, it is something I realise more and more as I get older. Nothing lasts. This can be sad, when it refers to friendships, when people I love move or die, when a job I enjoy finishes or a stage of life (like having toddlers. I loved parenting tiny children.) It can be good too, when something’s awful, or we’re ill, or we look at the world and it just seems black and hopeless. Nothing lasts.

I had a terrible night on Wednesday, I just couldn’t sleep. I think I spent the whole night awake and worrying. Usually I’m an excellent sleeper – 10:30 to 7am, straight through with no wake ups. If I can’t sleep I put on a story in Chinese and it distracts me enough that I sleep almost instantly. (Husband gave me headphones for Christmas. I am thinking it might not be the same for him.) But Wednesday I started worrying and then couldn’t sleep. All night.

I had all kinds of different worries bubbling around my head. Church has had lots of people move away and we can’t find enough people to fill all the gaps and I’m worried I wont cope with everything I have agreed to do. My book is on the way to being published but I’m worried that no one will buy it, that it’s not good enough, that friends will laugh at me. I hate self-promotion, I just can’t do it, so the thought of having to ask people to buy my book is terrifying. I also had agreed to drive the boys back to uni, which is a long drive, longer than I have driven since brain surgery. Worried I would get too tired, worried about staying in a motel (very scary), worried I would get lost in big Northern cities. Worry, worry, worry, buzzing round my brain.

The next morning I was reading Psalm 8 (you remember I am studying the Psalms at the moment?) Anyway, it just made me cross! It begins by talking about God, his glory, how he put the stars in place with his hands, how even tiny children praise him, etc. “That’s nice,” I thought, “but it doesn’t exactly fill up the Sunday School rota with names of willing volunteers. It doesn’t help me much.”

Then I realised that actually it did, actually it took all those worries away. If I believed in a God who placed the stars, then surely I believed that he could cope with a rota of names? Surely I could leave the problem with him? It just wasn’t MY problem, none of my worries were. They were his.

All I have to do is live each day as well as I can. To live in the present – which kind of comes back to what you were saying. I have to live each day as best as I can, which might mean editing my book or asking people to help with some job at church. But as long as I do that right, in the best way I can, then I am only answerable to God. The bigger problem is his and I can just dump it with him and get on with my day, with my ‘now’, my ‘present’.

Perhaps my word should be ‘Trust’. Except I’m not quite holy enough to do that very well, so I’ll leave it with ‘nothing lasts’.

Hope you have a good week. Hope woodpecker doesn’t destroy your house (your house is made of wood, right?)

Take care,
Anne xx

PS: News in brief:
The rats are back. More annoying than I can say. Have found new holes in the duck aviary. Have put down traps and discussed with cats.

We’ve had lots of rain. Loads of it. Makes walking dog each day very unpleasant. Squelching through sodden fields is grim. So is the amount of mud that seems to find its way into my kitchen. Hens are very cross and refuse to leave their perch some days.

I still have a Christmas tree up – the artificial one that I refuse to have anything to do with. The ornaments are gone but the tree remains. I think husband thinks I haven’t noticed. Am saving discussion for when I’ve done something wrong and need some leeway. Shouldn’t be long.

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The World was Dark

The world was dark. Nations fought each other with weapons and cruelty and military power. Politicians sought to conquer, individuals worked subversively causing upheaval and bloodshed and fear. Few felt peace, all were aware of black terror in various corners of the world.

The society was dark. Rich men ruled with might, there was little regard for the poor, the ill, the weak. People were trapped in the role to which they were born. Life was cheap, with a market for slaves, the ownership of another human, the trampling of rights.

Religion was dark. A myriad of beliefs, many advocating bloodshed and cruelty, most leaving people bewildered and confused. People chose their gods with care, hoping to gain protection or wealth. Some became their own god, others looked to the stars.

The night was dark. A young couple, displaced, needing shelter, a place for her to give birth. Workers fought the coldness of night on hills beyond the town as they protected their flocks.

In the night of a dark society in a black world, a light was born. A light to guide, marked by a star, heralded by angels, sought by seekers of truth. A light to pierce the darkness.

Today, our world is dark. We watch nations fight each other, hear tales of oppression. There is fear of terrorism, a half ignored knowledge of atrocities in foreign lands, a sense of hopelessness. Inequalities threaten our stability so we try to forget the poor, the disadvantaged, those suffering from problems too big for us to solve. Easier to blame their governments for unrest, hunger, climate change. It is too big for us.

Our society is dark. Overwhelmed by economic uncertainties, the distrust of politicians, the struggling poverty of the refugee, the unemployed, the disabled. The fear of instability that makes us cling to our wealth and families and careers. The knowledge that people are trafficked, trapped within our society and abused, hurt. Invisible suffering. A media that distorts and dominates and influences. Few are at peace.

Beliefs today are dark. People are emptily sliding towards addictions to alcohol, gambling and drugs. A confusion of religion that causes a distrust of all exclusive belief. The fascination with the occult, the selfishness of humanism and the pursuit of pleasure.

So where is that light, that promise from long ago? Not extinguished. Still shining. Still waiting. A continued promise. A light that will extinguish darkness.

A light with many names: An advisor to guide you – don’t you long for some good advice? A God worth worshipping – don’t you wish you knew the truth? A father who will never die – don’t you ache to be cared for? Someone who brings real peace, stability, safety. His government will exclude no one, will last forever, be truly fair.

The light continues to shine, waiting for people to open their eyes and see. Waiting to set them free.

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Thank you for reading.

Modified from Isaiah chapter 9.

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God, the Bible and Homosexuality

Dear Dad,

I think the thing I miss most is being able to just talk to you. I often want to ask your advice but even more than that, I miss being able to debate things with you. You always loved to talk, usually deep into the night, often heatedly. You never shied away from issues and you were good at debating because you listened as well as argued.

You were also not afraid to change your view. I remember as a very young child when you thought all dancing was wrong, lead to temptations, was ‘worldly’. Then, when you were at Theological college, you were asked to play the music at a Barn Dance. You were shocked! I still remember you coming home afterwards, completely surprised and admitting, “It didn’t seem evil at all. It was actually rather fun.”

You changed a lot when you were studying at college. You were never afraid to stand up for what you believed, even if you were standing alone. But nor were you afraid to modify those views if you realised they were wrong. You had a good brain and you used it, you didn’t think that being a christian meant that you kissed your intelligence goodbye. You taught us to think, to listen, to read the Bible and to pray. Your views were always consistent with what the Bible taught but you also told us to read it wisely, not to pick out random texts that would support our own arguments but to read it honestly, to seek out what God wanted us to learn from the writing.

And so I want to talk to you now Dad. I want to talk to you about what God thinks about homosexuality and I so wish you could answer and join in the debate. But I can’t hear you anymore, so I’ll just explain where I’m at and maybe that will still help to clarify things a bit, to sort out a few loose threads and help me to hear a bit better what God wants to say.

It’s an odd topic for me to be battling with. More than anything else I want to see the church, the body of Christ, behaving more as one, being more unified. I want us to stop thinking about belonging to the ‘Baptist Chapel’ or ‘St. Peter’s’ and to start seeing ourselves as one church, with one head, moving in the same direction and all working together. So it seems strange that an issue which proves to be so divisive should be the one that I cannot stop thinking about. Perhaps it is important to get it sorted.

It also seems strange because it is not something that really affects me personally. None of my close family or friends are homosexual, so it should not feel personal – but it does. That’s why I am writing this as a letter rather than an article. This does not feel like an intellectual debate, this feels like something deeply important which I need to discuss.

It is only fairly recently that I have given it much thought. Growing up, our church taught that homosexuality was a sin and I thought no more about it. I don’t remember you ever really talking about it other than once, when a lecturer at your college was found to be gay and left. You respected this man’s teaching so I know you were surprised and disappointed. You were, I think, uncomfortable with effeminate men.

Homosexuality was discussed again as part of a sermon when we lived in the US. I remember the pastor preaching from the bit in Romans that lists a whole lot of sins. He made the point that Paul began by listing things that the Jewish people would find repulsive, like homosexuality, and then moved on to things that they were doing, like gossiping. His point was that we like to make homosexuality the ‘worst’ sin whereas actually God sees all wrong doing as sin, we are all guilty, even if we ‘only’ gossip. I talked about this with you and you agreed, saying that you did not think the church should be rejecting people who were homosexual but rather accepting them and helping them to change. You didn’t see it as ‘the worst’ sin, all sin is sin.

So, for a while, I guess this was my view too. I saw homosexual practice as wrong but believed we had no right to reject the people and should still be welcoming them into the church.

Then in the UK we had a big debate in parliament about whether the law should be changed to allow same sex marriage. A lot of people felt very strongly about this. The church felt that marriage was an institution set up by the church, a religious ritual, and that gay people, while being given equal rights in law, had no cause to force the church to change a basic belief, that marriage was a state for a man and a woman.

I remember walking through London one day and passing a big church. Outside was a huge sign which read “God created them man and woman. Marriage is for one woman and one man.” I stopped dead. I was, to be honest, a bit shocked. This was the only sign outside the church. If I had been gay, that church is the last building I would ever willingly have entered, that had to be wrong. Did we have the right to be so judging, so rejecting, of anyone?

So I started to think about this issue more seriously. What did the Bible actually say? It keeps nagging at me, for no apparent reason, I really want to sort this out. Now, you taught us that the Bible is the word of God, it is given to us so that we can better know God’s will for us, how to live. I recall you used to say, “Refer to the maker’s instructions.” (As an aside, if you were reading this, I would point out that if ever you really had something which came with instructions you always tried to figure it out yourself first and only looked at the instructions if you got stuck! But the theory is a good one.) You also taught us that we should understand the context in which the words were written, ask God to show us what he wanted to teach us and not always take them at face value.

The church has in the past used the Bible to justify the oppression of women, the right to own slaves and all sorts of other things which are not in line with the meaning of the words. If I took the words literally I would wear a hat to church, never plait my hair nor wear gold or nice clothes. Some religions believe that their holy book was dictated, word for word, by God to man. Christians do not believe that, so we have to work a little harder to understand what God is saying.

It is further complicated because unless we read ancient Hebrew and Greek, we are reading a translation and these can never be literal. I can read Mandarin, I know that I cannot translate a sentence word for word from Mandarin to English or I will be in a right muddle! I have to understand the sentence in Mandarin and then write the meaning of that sentence in English. Which means that the Bible, even those which are translations, will have some human interpretations included. So I have been reading some commentaries and trying to understand just what the relevant passages are saying.

When you read the Bible, you cannot ignore that it seems to be completely condemning of homosexuality. For a while, I decided that my original belief was correct, that whilst we must love and accept people who are gay, as indeed God loves them and us, yet the actual practice was wrong. We can ‘reject the sin without rejecting the sinner’. But is that right? I felt the need to explore this a bit further. The church has very few people who are gay and this cannot be right. We accept murderers, liars, thieves – why was this issue one which so many people find difficult? Is it because people who are gay do not accept that it is a sin? Even a murderer usually accepts they have done wrong, so why do people who are gay reject that they are? And could they be right?

It is also heartbreaking to hear of so much pain that is caused by this issue, families breaking up, young people killing themselves because they feel rejected, other people using it as an excuse for hatred. That cannot be right.

So what actually is homosexuality? If you read scientific and psychological studies, it is a biological state, not something which people choose. Now, I am not ignoring the studies (but I am a middle child and somewhat contrary, I do not accept anything at face value) I do wonder if this is always true. Our society values masculinity very highly. It had to in ages gone past, physical strength and endurance was essential for the survival of our species and we seem to have retained some of this in our psyche. So, marines who show weakness are called “a bunch of girls” (this is not meant as a compliment!) Boys who cry are called “sissies”. We do not like effeminate males. This therefore makes it quite hard for a male who is effeminate. Maybe they feel rejected by their peers and therefore ‘decide’ that they are gay. If they are gay, there will be a reason for their ‘failure’ to behave like a tough male. They feel more comfortable in the gay role, even though it is not what they naturally are, and so they adopt it. The same might be true of a girl who felt ugly or inadequate in the stereotypical roles that society has manufactured. Surely sex, at its most basic, is a physical response to stimulus and if you shut your eyes or imagine yourself into a persona, maybe it doesn’t matter too much who does that stimulating.

But, if I am honest, this view seems to ignore an awful lot of research. I do not believe that scientists are always right (many of them seem to have missed the whole existence of God) but neither should respected research be ignored lightly. Not if you have a brain. So maybe some people are born gay. This doesn’t mean my theory above is not right for some people, but maybe it is also a biological condition.

Does that mean that it is not a sin? Well, not necessarily. Some people are naturally kleptomaniacs, that does not make stealing okay. It might be natural for them but it’s still wrong. I think that some people are naturally attracted to children and yet this is clearly wrong. Children should never be used for sexual gratification. Those people have to just accept that they can never be fulfilled in the way they feel is natural for them and remain celibate. No question, their feelings are wrong.

I should also admit that I find seeing gay people kiss or show affection weird. It feels wrong. I don’t like it, it makes me uncomfortable. But is this because it is wrong and my conscience is kicking me, or is it because it is unusual, not something which is seen very often. It is also something which I, as a heterosexual woman, cannot really relate to. I should also say that I find the thought of my parents having sex also feels distasteful. Does anyone like to think about their parents in that way? We know it happens, on a certain level we’re glad they find each other attractive, but do we want to think about them doing it? Ugh, yuk, no!

Some people argue that homosexuality is “unnatural”. I am not quite sure what they mean by this but if they mean it is not seen in the natural world, they should visit a farm! We often have a herd of cows in the field next to our house and without a doubt they indulge in homosexual activity! So do male ducks every Springtime. However, people are not animals, we were created to be higher than the animals, so is it morally wrong?

Some people have argued that when it refers in the Bible to an ‘unnatural’ act, it means homosexual activity between people who are NOT homosexual, between people who are just experimenting, who naturally are heterosexual.

The only way to decide if something is wrong, morally wrong, against what God wants for us, is to look at the Bible and to ask God to teach us. This is what I have found out:

I find the references in the Old Testament easier to deal with because so many other issues are clearly meant to refer only to the Jews at that time. In Leviticus, homosexual behaviour is called “an abomination” or “detestable”, depending on which translation you read. My understanding is that the word which we have translated (to mean “an abomination” ) is one which is used for issues which affected the Jewish people of that time, it is about being separate, not a moral issue. When Leviticus was written, the Jewish race was relatively small and God wanted them to be separate, different to the surrounding nations. The physical expression of this separateness was certain rituals that they observed and certain things which they abstained from. Homosexual practice was listed as an abomination. So was eating prawns. I cannot see any reason for taking one part and not the other.

So is it irrelevant? Can we just ignore that bit of the Bible? You always told me that was a dangerous thing to do, that we might miss something important. I think God does still want his people to be different, separate from how other people in the world live. We are meant to be loving and morally upright and generous. I just think the examples (no homosexuality and no prawn sandwiches) are no longer relevant. We do not think that eating pork is a moral issue today, it is about the Jewish people being separate.

Another Bible text which is often quoted is at the very beginning, when Adam and Eve were created and told their purpose was to have children. Now, when the Jewish race first began, increasing in size would be hugely important. There are rules in the Old Testament which say that if a man has sexual contact with a woman and spills his seed on the ground, that is a sin. However, we do not follow this teaching today. We do not consider that single people or couples who do not have children have ‘failed’, are sinning.

Sometimes the story of Sodom and Gomorrah is used as evidence against homosexuality. However, it seems that God was planning to destroy those cities because “their sin was very grave” and not specifically homosexual. True, the men later wanted to gang rape the men of God and so are destroyed, but gang rape of any kind seems wrong to me and very far removed from homosexuality.

If we look at the New Testament, it also seems unclear. St Paul wrote about homosexuality, for example in 1 Corinthians and seemed to be clearly condemning it. However, the word that he uses, “arsenokites” does not seem to have been used anywhere else previously and scholars think that maybe Paul made it up. It cannot be properly translated from Greek to English as “homosexual” and so the meaning is not as clear as it seems.

At the time when Paul was writing, homosexual practice tended to be centred around idol worship or being with several partners or to involve young boys (which is child abuse.) He would not have used a word to describe a loving monogamous relationship between two adults of the same sex because quite simply, it did not exist. (Or, if it did exist, it wasn’t seen to be a problem so wouldn’t have been discussed.) It seems to me that God makes rules to protect us. If people are living a promiscuous lifestyle, they are stunting their ability to have a loving relationship, they risk spreading disease and they are using another person as an object. This is harmful and therefore I would argue is not what God intended. The problem today is that much of what we perceive to be homosexual practice is actually promiscuity.

Is it possible that at the beginning of time, people were intended to be heterosexual but due to their rejection of God, he allowed homosexual ‘genes’ to develop? A bit like we are told that feeling pain in childbirth is due to the world going wrong, due to man’s original sin. Maybe, but that does not change that to be homosexual is not wrong, anymore than feeling pain is sinful. I have three children, it hurt, if someone had told me that I was sinning because I felt pain I would have punched them on the nose!

What does this mean in practice? Should we start telling people in the church with established views that they are wrong? I fear that this will lead to church splits and a lot of hurt. More wrong wont solve anything. But nor should we continue. I think that maybe God is very angry with how difficult we have made it for gay people to come to him. I think we need to develop our teaching on this, challenging views which are clearly wrong. We need to encourage an openness, an acceptance and be prepared to discipline actions which cause someone else to stumble.

If homosexuality is not wrong, then we should encourage people who are homosexual to have loving monogamous relationships. We should not be driving them into an underworld of promiscuity in a search for acceptance. Does this mean marriage? To be honest, I don’t know but my feeling is no. Marriage was a sacrament devised by the church within a very specific area. The vows and traditions are not in the Bible, they are just church religion. Why would gay people want to force this to change for any reason other than to be perverse, to make a point? Christians have behaved appallingly towards gay people but that does not mean that gay people should now sweep away all the traditions which have stood for centuries. That is just rude. They have the same right in law as any heterosexual couple and perhaps they should devise a church ceremony for the time when a couple commit to each other before God, when they enter into a life long monogamous relationship. But why call it marriage? I think that will just offend people unnecessarily.

Should we allow gay priests and ministers? Undoubtedly yes if (as in the case of a heterosexual person) their calling has been well tested. However, should they practice sexually is a more difficult one. Personally, I think this is a step too far for many people. I wonder if it is a similar case to the one in the new testament when the early christians were trying to decide if they should eat meat offered to idols. There was nothing intrinsically wrong with the food, just as I believe there is nothing intrinsically wrong with two people of the same sex having a monogamous physical relationship, but if it will cause injury to others, they should abstain. Not an easy thing to do, but not so different to the catholic priest who denies his sexuality and remains celibate because that is what he is feels it is right to do. Let’s try to take people slowly, to minimise the hurts, there have been enough already.

I find it hard to write these things because I know they fly in the face of teaching from many christians who I hold in deep respect. However, more and more prominent christian leaders are beginning to change their views. I think my own view mirrors that of Archbishop Desmond Tutu who said, “I do not believe that God would look at a black man and say, ‘It would have been better if you had been white’. I do not believe God would look at a woman and say, ‘It would have been better if you had been a man’. And I do not believe that God would look at a homosexual person and say, ‘It would have been better if you had been heterosexual’.”

I wonder if my grandchildren will look at the church of today and be appalled by how we treat homosexual people. Just as I am appalled when I look back at history and see christians who quoted from the Bible and justified owning slaves in England.

Am I right? It is so hard to know and I pray that God will show me if I have still got it wrong.

Missing You,
Anne x

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by Anne E Thompson

Thanks to: Elizabeth Longhurst 2011

Peter Gomes and Desmond Tutu interviewed in ‘For the Bible Tells Me So’ 2007

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