The First Thought of Christmas - Is tolerance a good thing?

Putting to one side the title of this blog, and any thoughts you have about what you should say or do, read this statement and ask yourself whether you think this practice is something that should be celebrated and encouraged:

To allow something that one dislikes or disagrees with to exist or occur without interference.

Apply this statement to a variety of scenarios. The child being bullied in the playground, the X-Factor winner claiming Christmas number one yet again, the tyranny of a country by an oppressive regime, a friend who always interrupts you as you chat with others at the pub, the ever-increasing belly that pertrudes from your torso as age takes its toll on your body's metabolism.

Each of these situations will, for many people, involve things that the individual strongly dislikes or disagrees with, things that really gripes them or drives them to despair. Obviously the extent to which they do will differ, and so too the reasons why. But in each of them, how many of us would turn, look at someone shrugging their shoulders and saying "oh well, not my business", and think to themself "wow; what a guy". And yet to me it seems that to hold up as a beacon of dignity, class and humanity this value of 'tolerance' is to do exactly that.

Some would say these signs each depict somewhat contradictory messages.

Now, we only have a limited amount of time and energy from which to act and, as such, for some things we might have to say maybe it really doesn't matter. In some cases our dislike may be down to a trifling matter of taste, and perhaps on these occasions diversity of taste is something to be embraced (although arguably whilst we might be inclined to think "yes, let the masses have their way and in droves buy the latest manufactured pop mush" perhaps instead we could make an effort to introduce them to the delights of the more acquired tastes of the latest offering of our favourite Philharmonic, or our idolised punk-thrash-metal band).

The main issue, I feel, is that people mix up arguments of tolerance versus intolerance with deciding how to express that intolerance. The desires that drove a million people to protest against the war in Iraq stem as much from intolerance as those that drove the armed forces of nations to depose Saddam Hussein and conduct the aforementioned war in the first place. Of course the action that resulted from those two incidences of intolerance differed dramatically, but, nevertheless, intolerance it was. Similarly, when faced with a playground bully you wouldn't think to tolerate it, but this intolerance could, on the one hand, mean giving the boy a thump, on the other letting a teacher put him in detention to write some lines and tell him not to do it again, or alternaitvely to seek to understand why he wants to do such a thing (has he been bullied previously, does he feel isolated, are there family troubles at home?) and help him to change and improve his life and those of them around him.

Interestingly, not many of the other Times articles mentioning tolerance (see below) have such a positive view.

As you can probably tell, my inkling in response to the question I pose in the title is that tolerance isn't all it's cracked up to be, something I was reminded of when reading the leading article in yesterday's Times ('A Time for Tolerance'). The writer brings up in his article the role of tolerance within the dynamics of the established Church - something I'll return to later in the week - but it is his closing statement that really puzzles me. He says that to fight the falsehood of other people's views is not the message of Christ, but rather that it is that "we are all, as children, equally blessed and must tolerate and respect what is good in each of us". This is the same Christ that said "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me". Not really the language of someone saying "so basically do yer best and try not to annoy anyone". No, Jesus wasn't a tolerant chap, as witnessed in his turning of the tables in the temple, in the countless occasions he confronted the religious leaders of the day and, outrageously, stood up for the marginalised and down-trodden, and most importantly in how he allowed himself to be arrested, tried and executed, that he might die for the sins of the world.

Jesus could have looked at the wrong doings of people everywhere and said "that's OK", he could have let people go on their merry way, walking to their death oblivious to the consequences of their choices and actions, but instead he chose not to tolerate it, taking the one action that could actually do anything to change things and reconcile us to God. Even the nativity stories we may have read in the last few days make this clear.

So I wonder; is tolerance just the easy way out? Are we called to be intolerant of the things we see to be wrong and unjust and to make a difference? I have a feeling the answer is yes, but that still leaves the uncomfortable and much, much harder question - what are we then going to do about it?

The 'gaul' of a man who only had to put his hand up (or not get his hand involved in the first place...)

It's the story everyone is talking about at the moment (no, not the Queen's speech, although maybe we can lead the way by introducing a bill encouraging people playing football to not use their hands...). Yes, it's 'Le Hand of God', which completed France's precarious path to qualifying for the 2010 Fifa World Cup, leaving the Irish pushed to one side, sitting on their backsides, with nothing but the knowledge that deserved to win on the night to be their comfort. In all likelihood they'd probably had rather have lost 1-0 than going out in such excruciating circumstances.

Some may say that my title doesn't do Monsieur Henry justice - he did indeed own up, even to the players whilst he was still on the pitch, but, to be honest, he might have well have kept quiet - what help is it admitting it then? At least if you're going to admit it express some kind of remorse. At the very least admit what you did was wrong and against the law and the spirit of the game, let alone good human nature. I can't believe Richard Dunne bought the cop out of it being down to the referee - the referee couldn't see, Thierry could see (not to mention feel) it. The job of the referee is to help enforce the laws of the game. He doesn't go around whispering in the ears of players to tell them not to foul people, not to use your hands or not punch someone in the face. There's some level of co-operation that needs to go on, where that natural inclination is for every player to stick to the rules and admit when they've slipped up if it's needed.

I think the whole episode says a lot about society. One, those backing Henry seem to have this mentality of 'you get as much as you can with as little as possible input', and these people seem to assume that everyone else wishes to behave in this way too. Fortunately, this isn't true. Being a proper man (or woman), is about having integrity, rooted in a sense of right and wrong, and striving to see a better world for all. Take away integrity and you become a liar who swings one way or the other at the drop of a hat, lose a sense of right and wrong and your decisions are of no merit, and without the perspective of a better world you become content with seeing unrealised potential present in the outworking of life. However, and this leads to point two, people do actually seem to see this lack of 'manliness' and get really riled. For something that is essentially just a game, this is remarkable. Whilst this is in no small part due to the overblown nature of football in the modern world, I think it's also due to the high value we intrinsically see in opposing injustice. Irrelevant of whether the Irish 'deserved' to win on the run of play, in that one decision an injustice that saw the most basic of football rules broken and not rectified left the watching public seething. Perhaps this suggests that all is not lost as far as society is concerned - if only we could harness that anger at injustice and direct it towards reducing poverty, climate change and the other more pressing matters of the day - think of the possibilities!

As an aside, someone on the BBC forum suggested this news should have alerted us sooner...!

(Some Biblical advice for Thierry Henry: Micah 6:8)

I'm so happy that he didn't sneeze

What's the most famous speech in the world? I'm sure for a lot of people the answer comes back "I have a dream", or "Martin Luther King". And so when I saw that my Dad had been given the book 'Speeches that changed the world' as a present, it was to the speech of said title that I headed straight to. Reading it through it's very powerful, very encouraging, but having had it on my wall for the last three years at uni I know it fairly well now. But what I wasn't aware of was the speech he gave four and a half years later, in Memphis, Tennesee.

He starts with a story of how he was stabbed by "a demented black woman" whist autographing books, and relays how the knife was so close to his aorta that the New York Times, on reporting the incident, said that if he had sneezed he would have died. A few days later, able to read through some of the post he had received, one letter strikes him, one he'll never forget. It's a short, straightforward letter, but it is from a young white girl, ninth grade (age 14-15), who has heard of his misfortune, and she says she is "simply writing to say that I'm so happy you didn't sneeze". He goes on to say that he too is happy he didn't sneeze, listing all the things that have happened, all that he would have missed, and that might never have happened had he died.

And it's at this point he conveys how his life has been threatened many times, how even that morning as he flew, the plane was guarded all night beforehand and comprehensively searched and checked, how more threats have been made and questions raised about what people might try to do to him in the coming days and months. And his final paragraph is stunning, absolutely stunning, and had me in tears:

Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.

The following day, 4 April 1968, Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed by a sniper's bullet whilst standing on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennesee.

What a faith, what an example, what a challenge. Is this what it means to be a Christian dying to oneself and living for Christ?

And how gracious a God, to keep him from death until he was ready, to remove that fear and to replace it with that contentment, with that joy. And I know one day I'll be at the Promised Land with him, and see the glory of the Lord forever.

Above is a video of the final paragraph, and there is also a FULL transcript - see the last seven paragraphs for what I read in the book.

Bradford and Leeds week - Christians Against Poverty

After a day off on Monday, I arose early (well, some time before 9) and went to meet someone from Christians Against Poverty (CAP).  CAP was started in 1996 by John Kirkby with £10 and a lot of faith. John had not long before come to faith, riddled by debt himself, and set out trying to use the skills he had been given during his time working in financial services to see people like himself set free from the bondage of debt and sin. The organisation doesn't hide its faith-base, as their name indicates, and they offer to pray for their clients on the first meeting, plus as a local church supports each centre there is always much support for each person. Many people who come to CAP have contemplated suicide in the past and have nowhere else to turn. They help so many people out of debt and impact so many lives. What I love though is the statistic that on average five people a week become Christians as a result of their work. Five lives changed immeasurably for eternity! Probably more than they bargained for but far greater than they could have ever imagined. Praise God!

Looking around I noticed their list of core values, which make for encouraging reading. As much as I realise it's probably weird to take pictures in an office I couldn't resist (and as I've found them on the internet I assume they're not secret...). It's great to see a company with an ethos so rooted in the Bible. Not only that, but they have such great faith too, with the money required each month looking like it'll fall short, on for it to come through following times of prayer and fasting. This ministry is clearly dedicated to seeking what God wants to happen. Get hold of the book - it's free from the website.

It has been on my heart for quite a while now to see people's material needs met alongside telling them the good news, and to find ways of doing that. CAP is just one expression of that and one that I would like to be involved in at some point in the future, and at the very least is something I draw great inspiration from. May many lives be changed by all that these people do in God's strength.

*****

p.s. If you're going to try and take a covert picture of a building because you're worried that the guys sitting in the dustbin lorry might think you look a bit weird, you may have to persevere.

I couldn't sleep the other night...

I've been helping out at a Bible Study in town since I came back to uni, which has been an amazing thing to be involved in, with 99% of those that come being marginalised from society in some way or other. One guy who came recently is living in Julian House (JH) currently, and after seeing him in town a couple of times in the week I was disappointed to not see him on Wednesday night. On the way home I decided to pay a visit to JH and see if he was there, and we had a chat. C is a really great guy, and you wouldn't think to look at and speak to him that he was 'on the streets'. We spoke for a while and then I left, saying I'd see him soon.

As I was leaving I spoke briefly to those sitting on the steps of Manvers Street Baptist Church, above JH. I found this really tough. Many of these people, probably between their late 30s and early 50s, were acting as though they were in their late teens, and, well, they just seemed pretty messed up. Just as I was about to leave though, I could see that one of the guys was practically (if not actually) out cold. I didn't now what to do, but, with them close to JH, and having said a word to one of the others to make sure he was alright, I left them.

On the way home thought I kept thinking "should I have stayed?", "should I go back - pray with them, chat with them, call an ambulance?". I got home and was going to bed, and really felt as though I should go back. You start to think, is that me thinking this or is God speaking to me? I think I would have gone if I hadn't had to be up early, although at the back of my mind I was thinking God'd give me the strength to get through the day.

I wrestled with it and was going to go, but didn't in the end, but I just couldn't sleep for more than 30 mins or so at a time. I don't think I felt particularly guilty, which made me think maybe it was God speaking to me, but, I dunno, I just didn't go.

It brought up two things in my mind.

Firstly, I still don't appear to be getting any better at hearing God's voice, mainly because my prayer life is pretty rubbish, and that I seem to pray more when I'm down or need things - not a good way to build any relationship!

Secondly though, it reminded me of the reason why I started this blog. You see I went to bed thinking about the prayer meeting I would lead in the morning, having in my mind Psalm 23. What a beautiful Psalm about God's protection for his children, for his flock, that he gives us peace. But as I lay in my bed, squirming at whether I was making the right choice, this didn't seem to be the picture I had. Instead I thought of Luke 9:23-24, and taking up my cross. I didn't feel particularly peaceful, and there seemed to be a tension between these two passages. But the more I thought about it the more I realised that to have the peace from Psalm 23 you need to have the commitment of Luke 9:23-24. And as I type now, I'm realising that to have the strength to do what is asked in Luke 9:23-24 we need the the protection, comfort and unfailing love of Psalm 23, as we carry our crosses through the darkest valleys.

If we expect following God to be just 'Psalm 23' we'll be too comfortable and when trials come along we'll be unprepared. But nor can we just look at the Luke passage, and expect our lives to be a joyless struggle as we follow Him.

We pick up our crosses and we follow him, safe in the knowledge that he is our Shepherd, the Shepherd who will never let one sheep go astray.

A 'black' day in the news

The main three stories of last night's news made for interesting viewing:
1) Lewis Hamilton becoming the youngest and only ever black Formula One World Champion.
2) Barack Obama potentially being 36 hours away from becoming the most powerful man in the world, and the first ever black man to hold this position.
3) Conflict in DR Congo and the great damage to many civilians' lives.

Each story focused on a person or group of people of black ancestry, something which they could not decide, but each with difference consequences. For the people of DR Congo, of course the colour of their skin is not an explanation for the violence by any means, but it is representative of how the plight of a people can be dependent on where they are born, not decisions they have made. For whatever reason this conflict started, it is clear that the, predominantly black, civilians of this nation are to feel the worst of this unrest, with none of it their fault.

Looking at the other two stories, we see two men for which the issue of race, whilst by no means key, is obviously a factor.

A few days prior to the final race, Lewis Hamilton was subject to racist abuse on a Spanish website, and in the run-up to the race the fact that there's never been a black champion was repeatedly mentioned.

Then for Barack Obama, the fact he is of African-American descent is inescapable. This has lead to concerns that the polls may be misrepresented with people lying to avoid looking racist - he may end up with less votes than the polls suggest. However, there is also a sense that more African-Americans will vote than usually would, as they wish to elect Obama, who they feel will represent them better than previous candidates.

Whatever the reasons, it looks clear that Obama will win, and as the Guardian picks up, this could be 'a great week in black history'.

The thing that really struck me though is that, although I don't like it when sports stories, or other things of minimal importance, are the first thing on the news, Lewis Hamilton's story highlighted something brilliant. No longer do we need to see a situation where black individuals are discriminated against for their skin colour, nor where people are looked upon favourably because of the previous experiences of blacks. Rather, the man who is the best driver in the world, and just so happens to be black, can claim the title to prove he is the best, and no one can take that away from him.

Sowing the seeds of love, or of exclusion?

On Friday night a friend and I were outside our church, waiting to see if any of the guys from youth club would turn up, as it was closed this week. Having gone to see some of the guys I was walking back when I saw a woman, can in hand, pulling (presumably) her child, about 7/8, up by the hair. As the child swung for the mother, the mother retaliated by smacking her child on the face. This carried on a few times. The father, also can in hand, seemed to having nothing to say about this. With it being in the middle of the park, I was a bit taken aback, and I just stared at her for a while.

As she continued, I felt I had to at least say something. I walked over to them and, inquisitive and perhaps even smiling, she looked at me. All I said was something like "I'm sorry but..." and she told me to butt out, whilst the guy probably threatened me too. Of course it was what I expected. What amazed me though was how until I said those words she genuinely seemed to think that I could just as easily have been about to say "Alright?" or "Nice day...", as though what she'd just done in full view was perfectly normal.

The child later ran off, and then after the father followed her he came back and the rest of the family went home. I don't know where she was. I don't know if she got home. I don't know whether she wanted to go home. I don't know whether worse happens there. But I won't be surprised if, if it continues, one day she runs off and never comes back.


The Salvation Army recently released a report, 'The Seeds of Exclusion', for which interviews were conducted with many homeless people. It was found "that poor relationships with mothers often lead to antisocial behaviour throughout life". In addition, "[m]any of those affected are now themselves parents alienated from their own children". I couldn't help but wonder whether I was watching one of those seeds being sown. Perhaps the mother herself had experienced similar.


On returning home I had an interesting conversation with my housemate and his girlfriend about what I'd seen and about social ills in general. My housemate was keen to draw the line between poverty in the UK and in developing countries. He suggests that there are so many opportunities here that people are able to get out of it themselves, something those that are the poorest of the poor, living in third-world countries, simply don't have. I've often thought myself that poverty in the UK is practically optional. But what I've learnt over the last year is that the cause of poverty and other social ills in the UK is dramatically different to in the developing world. As the SA report suggests, the cause of a lot of poverty here is due to relationship breakdown. This could be with parents, but I have also spoken to people whose lives have crumbled after jobs have been lost, followed by their wife and then their kids, and eventually they're on the streets with alcohol, or worse, as their comfort. Whereas property rights, access to education and cheap credit are some of the major causes and solutions to third world problems, here it is relationships.

And that's why, whilst top-down policies may work elsewhere, they simply won't work here. If the problem is relationships you can't just give someone money. You can't just give them shelter. You can't just book them into detox. You need to get alongside them and befriend them. Show them that they are not forgotten. Show them that healing can come. Show that relationships can be forged just as much as they can be broken. X amount of funding, Y number of rehab programmes and Z new taxes and laws may look good on a list of things that have been done, but will they ever really solve anything by themselves?


So I believe relationships are key. And I also believe that it starts with you and me. We need to weed out seeds of exclusion and start sowing seeds of love.