When being christian is more than being just a Christian

I MET a friend earlier this week who confessed to reading my blogs. Shame on you, say a dozen Hail Mary’s and wash your mouth out with that scrag end of Imperial Leather lying by the sink!!

It was a pleasant surprise to know my blog was being read. According to the statistics, my blog has been read all over the world in South Africa, China, Australia, Singapore, Canada and America - amongst others. Who is picking up on this dross?

I like reading other people’s blogs out of sheer curiosity and interest. I’m not much into Tweeting or following Tweets, but I appreciate a decent blog where the writer has something to say which is either funny, thought-provoking, or simply a darn good read.

 

It begs the question what drives people in such a busy world to read blogs which are, at times, part confessionals, the perfect platform for a rabid rant or even an opportunity to show off with a touch of literary exhibitionism? Isn’t this vanity publishing in its purest form?

 

Vain? Moi? Anyway, I’ve checked my hair, the eyebrows look less ragged, and I’ve cleaned my teeth this morning to get rid of the coffee breath, so move on!

 

So, back to my friend who had read the blog written last month about the fit suffered by my youngest son Ross. She remarked: “I didn’t know you were religious, but then there was no reason why I should do.”

It was an interesting remark. Some folk wear their faith like a badge, they even stick a fish badge on their car boot, while others go about their faith quietly. Writing about your faith in a blog isn't exactly hiding your light under a bushel, but it was the first time I had even been very public about faith - or my frustration.

 

For me, being a Christian is about being christian - with a lower case 'c' - with how you behave in every day life. It’s about behaving with humility, integrity, love, honesty and caring for others – qualities which sometimes you don’t see in ‘Capital C’ Christians, who forcefully show their badges of faith like shields, but possessing no humility whatsoever.

Maybe they should look in the vanity mirrors to see what we see. The word grace is a wonderful word, which captures the essence of someone who is a Christian, someone who has dignity, serenity and grace.

 

Last night, while the boys were at the cinema watching the latest Hairy Potter hoe-down, I read the report from the respite workers about Ross's fit, and how he was found head down on the floor, clutching a pillow with his body convulsing and his eyes rolled back. It made harrowing reading. How can you explain what has happened to someone who could not possibly understand the concept of what has gone on inside his body?

In the days after Ross’s fit, I received many messages of support. The response was simply stunning and unexpected. I received scores of messages, some from friends who I hadn’t heard from for 30 years but who, thanks to the wonders of the vanity confessional, had picked up on my plight.

Their words were not mealy-mouthed throwaway lines, but carefully constructed messages of comfort and understanding. One comment which really made me sit back and think came from a kind lady who wrote: “Maybe you receiving Communion at that moment (of Ross’s fit) was God’s way of holding you close?”

 

For Ross, he is doing amazingly well. He celebrated his 14^th birthday with a beach party at Hengistbury Head near Bournemouth on a beautiful sunny Sunday. What has emerged from his amazing head is a new-found skill to type words onto his laptop. Words such as monkey, ice cream, penguin, Mr Men, motorcycle, vacuum, bicycle, puzzle, giraffe, lion, rabbit, and even Postman Pap!

 

It’s as if there has been an earthquake of cranial plates in his head which have collided and forced out these words from his brain. In talks which I give about autism, I often liken the body of someone with autism as akin to a bottle of wine, with the wine inside that bottle being the potential of that person.

 

All we can do as parents and carers is to try to unhinge the cork which is secured tightly in the hope of releasing that person’s potential. It is unlikely you will ever fully release the cork, but the goal has to be to slowly pull the cork free so droplets of potential can drip out. And maybe, just maybe, for Ross we are seeing the cork moving and those first droplets falling. The challenge now is to harness that potential into something even greater.

 

Faith is such a difficult test. Why is it that way? Why can’t faith be so simple it fits into your heart like a glove and never moves? Over the past month, I’ve thought hard about it, listened wisely and the answer is never there.

 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German Lutheran pastor who courageously stood up to the Nazis. He was involved in a plot by German Military Intelligence to assassinate Adolf Hitler. He was arrested in April 1943 and was hanged two years later, just 23 days before the Nazis’ surrender.

This is what he wrote shortly before he died - and thanks to the dear friend who sent me these powerful words of inspiration.

 

We turn to God when we are sorely pressed;

we pray for help, and ask for peace and bread;

we seek release from illness, guilt and death:

all people do, in faith or unbelief.

We turn to God when he is sorely pressed,

and find him poor, scorned, without roof and bread,

bowed under weight of weakness, sin and death:

faith stand by God in his dark hour of grief.

God turns to us when we are sorely pressed,

and feeds our souls and bodies with his bread;

for one and all Christ gives himself in death:

through his forgiveness sin will find relief.