Dont Quit.
January 5, 2011
A few years ago, times were tough. Very tough. Tougher than I ever could have imagined. As I have mentioned before recently in a blog, 10 years ago, I never in my wildest dream would have imagined what the next 10 years were going to hold. I had no idea what life was going to make me endure. I sometimes wonder if I had known then, whether I would have quit the race before hand, perhaps its a good job I didn’t know?
Anyway, during one of the bleak days, when I could not bring myself to get out of bed and face the day, my stepdad who I lovingly regard as my Dad now, popped in to bring me some food. He also bought me a little card, to say he was thinking of me, and in that card was a bookmark type thing, a little laminated piece of paper. On it was the poem ‘ Dont Quit’ and a message from my Dad telling me to keep going and to not quit fighting the fight. It made me cry as I read it, and it makes me tearful to re read it now. To think at times I was so close to the edge. So close to throwing my hats in, and giving up. In fact, I tried several times, and perhaps only by the grace of God and some very beautiful friends I’ve managed to get back on the road of recovery and journey.
I was listening to some music tonight, that means a lot to me, songs that friends suggested or sent to me over the time, at random times but that meant the world there and then and still does. It made me think this poem, Dont Quit, author unknown.
And I guess it made me want to share it with you, whoever reads this, in the hope that, maybe someone out there who is contemplating quitting will read it, and hear it, and let it speak into their lives, so that wherever you are and whatever your situation is you can somehow find some inner strength to keep on fighting the fight. If life is tough for you right now, like unimaginably tough, do know, I am thinking of you and sending you love and hugs as I type/post this blog. Love Fragmentz x
Dont Quit
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill, When the funds are low, and the debts are high, And you want to smile, but you frown a bit, Rest if you must, but don’t you quit.
Life is strange with its twists and turns, As everyone of us sometimes learns, And many a failure turns about, When he might have won had he stuck it out; Don’t give up though the pace seems slow, You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out, The silver tint of the clouds of doubt, And you can never tell how close you are, It may be near when it seems so far; So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit, It’s when things seem worst That you must not quit.
Author Unknown
thinking of you.
December 26, 2010
with half an hour left (or less by the time I have pressed sent) before we leave this day, and move into the 26th Decembers 2010, I wanted to write a little blog.
I wanted to say I’ve been thinking of you today. My friends, my family, people I know well, people I don’t know so well, and people I don;t know at all but have connected with through the wonderful world of online social-ness.
I’ve spent most of today working, and so throughout the course of my very busy shift I have also had the chance to think about people I’ve never even met, or know about, such as the sick (very poignant considering my job), the homeless, the hungry.
I want to say Merry Christmas to those of you who have had lovely days, and I really really hope thats most of you. I hope you’ve all had a good chance to be with friends, and family, and people who you love and who love you.
I want to say I’ve been thinking of you too though if your day has not been so merry. In your hurting, your grieving, your pain. You have been in my thoughts and I hope today has been survivable.
lots of love
Fragmentz x
lets talk about … rape.
October 8, 2010
yep, you read the title right. rape. thats what this blog is about. if it is something that just reading the word or thinking about it makes you flinch, for whatever reason, i understand if your unable to read the following post.
I just felt it fair to warn you right at the very beginning so you can make the informed decision as to whether to read on or not. I really do not wish to upset anyone, and whilst writing this blog, and rereading it for the umpteenth time I have considered and re considered whether to actually publish/post this, however I came to the conclusion that I would not be being true to myself and this blog if I didn’t.
so, on we go …
.
.
.
when I logged into my computer this morning, like every morning, the first thing I do is to check out the BBC News website, just to glance over, to check out whats going on in and around the world. One of the headlines I saw was
‘ Rapist attacked woman twice in 12 weeks in south London’. I then clicked to read the story which you can find here …
i dont know about any one else, but as I read this, and the story, all i could do was think of the woman. the victim. the person who was raped. the survivor. and even as i am writing this, right now, i am thinking of her, and sending her my silent thoughts and prayers, that she may somehow learn to live through her ordeal and somehow come to a place of peace.
throughout today, my mind kept returning to this story, and to the woman involved. thinking about what a horrific and life changing moment it is for it to happen once, but to happen twice?
then, this evening, i was watching tv, and law and order UK came on. never seen it before, but nothing else was on that i liked the look of. the story line was complex, i don’t deny that, and please dont think i am trying to make light of any of the other issues the episode this evening used, however, towards the end, rape was one that was bought in. the woman, already in prison for other offences (all fictitious) was then in court accused of murder, of someone who was raping her. there was a scene, which was almost tearjerking where the barrister trying to help her sat with her in her cell and talked to her about what some would see as the human aspect of being raped.
the aspect of not having a choice. of not being in the wrong. of not asking for it to happen. for losing a part of something that is yours. something that you hold dear, that is yours, that gets taken away. it nearly made me cry.
i thought and thought about blogging on this topic, decided not to, then decided to, and went round in circles.
as i was deciding i looked up the definition of rape online. and found a dictionary which says this :
noun, verb, raped, rap·ing.
–noun
1.the unlawful compelling of a woman through physical force or duress to have sexual intercourse.
2.any act of sexual intercourse that is forced upon a person.
3.statutory rape.
4.an act of plunder, violent seizure, or abuse; despoliation; violation: the rape of the countryside.
5.Archaic . the act of seizing and carrying off by force.
point 3. is Statutory rape. this would appear mostly in US law and is the act of sexual intercourse with a person under the age of consent. I would like to point out, that that is something i am not writing about at present.
In fact, what i am really focussing on, as i write this blog, is the act of rape against a woman, which essentially is having sexual intercourse without her consent.
there are lots of ways this occurs, such as stranger rape, so a random attack, maybe in the street?
it could be marital rape, so within a marriage this act occurs.
it could be date rape, where drugs are used, so persons are not aware.
it could be something that happens within many boundaries.
I’d also like to highlight that rape among men happens too, there are men who are raped. its not as highlighted as woman, and maybe not so common, however that does not mean it is not a real thing happening out there.
if you want to find out more about the definitions, or what constitutes rape, or within what circumstances it can happen, do google. You can find a whole world of information out there, that might educate you, that might shock you, that might make you want to pray for people involved in this.
months ago, i wrote a blog about depression, and it was after i watched a programme about the illness in the sporting profession, and how rife it is. I wrote something on the lines of how indiscriminate depression is, as an illness, how it can find and attack all kinds and every kinds of people.
this afternoon, that was my exact thought about rape.
rape can affect anyone, and everyone, god forbid, but if could even be you, your wife, your husband, your daughter, your son, your best friend, your neighbour, your mum, your dad. who knows? it could be anyone.
as mentioned above it could be, and often is within the constraints of a marriage, but when it comes to random attacks by strangers, as well as the victim being anyone, it could also occur anywhere.
on the bus you travel home on, on the street you walk down to get to the shop, the shopping mall you buy your clothes in. it could be the train station you wait at everyday. maybe it could be at the festival you go to every year, and camp out with friends at while listening to great music ? (i was shocked to read several reports over the summer of rape occurring at a UK based music festival)
it could be outside or inside a place you feel the most safe. a hospital maybe, a church, who knows …. it could be anywhere.
i dont say the above as scare tactics. thats the last thing i would want to do to. i don’t know the statistics, but one thing that is clear is although it can happen to anyone, and anywhere, it doesn’t. the amount of people who are attacked and raped are in minority to those who are not. so pleased do not walk away from this blog being afraid of all the above places. thats not the intention (but obviously good personal awareness and safety is always wise) .
what i have been thinking about all evening, tonight, is about the victims of such attacks. the victim of a rape. how they are left feeling, how their lives are so changed by something that maybe only took a few minutes to happen. how one minute, life was ok, and you were walking to the bus to go and see someone, and the next your in a heap on a floor in the middle of an empty street, sobbing as they run away from you. one minute you had your phone in your hand, texting a friend to say how long you would be and the next minute someone is running towards you to help you up off the ground, and to call an ambulance, or the police.
how one minute life was pretty clear and defined, and the next in all the haze and commotion, you realise that your life has changed forever. because nothing will ever be the same again. ever.
the thing about rape, is that physically one may be able to recover quite quickly. depending on the nature of the attack. for others it may take longer. maybe physical bruising and pain takes longer to disappear and fade. but eventually they do fade, as do all physcial signs of what happens. and what your are left with is what is in your head. what is left are the memories, the thoughts, the flashbacks, the nightmares, the scin crawling moments where all you want to do is scrub your skin over and over until it bleeds or you feel clean again.
thing is, for many victims, and i dont speak for them all, in fact, maybe i dont speak for any other than one, but i guess for many, and i know for one, that actually, for them, to ever feel clean again, is the biggest of tasks.
its hard to explain that kind of thinking to someone who may not have the empathy or understanding. and thats ok, because not everyone will or does. its a big complex area. however, something kicks into your head. all you want is cleanliness, but whether you actually every achieve that again, who knows.
because the way you see it, the only way you can see it, is that something you had absolutely no choice over happens, took over, and that some of you was taken away.
you spend weeks and months trying to wipe it away, erase it but you cant. you spend days sitting in silence, with tears rolling down wishing you had done something different. wishing perhaps you hadnt walked down that same road you walked down every day. or thinking perhaps it was your fault because you dared to leave the house and walk the street you live on. you analyse what you could have done differently. what you did that made it your fault. you come up with one hundred reasons why it was your fault, even though every single one of those is wrong, and not true.
and then, because a few years before, the only way you knew how to deal with life was to cut your body, you decide that right now, its the only way again. so you find the knifes, and razors and start to carve your body up.
you also decide that maybe alcohol will change whats happen. so you drink. and drink.
and pretty damn soon, the physical scars are gone, and your left with an emotional mental heap with thoughts going round you can deal with , and cant process, and figure out.
perhaps it is the most life changing thing you will experience? maybe it is one of the most life changing experiences, because maybe, you were abused as a child anyway, and bullied as a teenager, and beaten by your siblings, and so, as an adult when this happens, maybe you shrug it off and think, well, i deserve it anyway.
maybe.
maybe not. maybe you would deal with it different. maybe you have?
somehow though, you have to keep going, keep breathing, taking each day as they come, day by day, and week by week and very quickly those days and weeks turn into months and years.
and although the pains and non visible scars dont go away, are not forgotten about, maybe you discover a way of living, that means you can move on. maybe you can learn to be at peace with yourself? and dare i say it, the person who committed this crime against you?
i dont know. maybe.
being raped tears a soul apart. being raped can break a person. being raped
rises up such a huge amount of emotions. rage. anger. pain. humiliation. embarrassment. silence.
often there is silence. a huge silence because you dont know what to say or how to say it. a huge silence because people around you dont know what to say. or how to say it.
and i guess, the reason i personally am writing this blog, is to be part of a process that is breaking the ‘silence’.
i mentioned i was writing this blog to a few a people today, i got a couple of positive reactions, and a couple of ‘oooh do you think thats a good idea’ responses.
i am aware, that some of this blog has gone into ramble mode, and i have to confess i am not too sure what my main objective of it was, as i started to write, other than to raise the topic, type it, write about it, and bring it into the blogosphere (i am sure others have done this too, so it isnt just me). i wanted to be part of the group of people breaking silence on the topic. i want people to talk about it. so it is not something others feel they have to be silent about. i want it talked about in our churches too. because right now, how churches meet the needs of survivors of abuse, and rape has alot to be desired for, if you ask me, though i acknowledge there are some good places.
i think i wanted to say out loud to whoever is reading this, that if you are a victim of rape it is not your fault. you didn’t ask for it. you didn’t want that happen. sex was not designed to be something that was taken away from you. it wasnt back then in jesus day, and it isnt now.
i have run out of writing steam, although i have more to say on this topic.
but please, if you feel you have something to say on this, please feel free to respond.
i shall be back to write about this again.
also, if this has stirred anything and you want to talk to someone, in the UK the Samaritans run a 24 hour service where you can call and find someone on the other end of the line : UK 08457 90 90 90
world suicide prevention day
September 10, 2010
hey peoples.
Hope this blog finds everyone well. I am always honoured that people come by and read the stuff i have to say. I hope you have enjoyed the last couple of blogs, about Greenbelt. just to let you know, I have a third and final Greenbelt blog to post, which will come in the next few days.
However, today I want to write about something else. Because today, 10th September 2010 is World Suicide Prevention Day.
I am sure, that there are lots of blogs out there being written about today, and about this topic, so my thoughts may be nothing original or new /different or profound, however what they are is something personal to me.
I am no expert on this topic (or any other for that matter) and so all I have to go on is experience.
The experience of losing someone I loved, respected and had a lot of time for to suicide, and the experience of being in a place myself that felt like the blackest of black holes and no way to climb out of it, other than to think the best option was to die.
I was a young teen when we got a phone call, and my stepdad answered it. I knew then that something was wrong. He sounded serious. He often does, but it was a different kind of serious, and as he walked into the lounge, I knew in my heart that something had happened. As soon as he said A’s name, I put the pieces together, and knew. I don’t think I actually heard my stepdad telling me what had happened through the tears. Turns out, that A had felt he couldn’t go on any more. That was my first experience of the thing they called suicide. At that point, A was someone I trusted. He had been my youth leader for some time. Someone who hosted BBQ’s, who listened to my teenage woes, who talked me through issues when they were too much for my head to deal with. And to be honest, when i was that age I was a bit of a self absorbed. So much stuff was going on in my home life, with my brother being very unwell and a drug user, and issues with my biological dad as well, I kinda looked up to A, to be there, and had no real idea of what was going on behind ‘his smile’. The first I knew all was not so well was when he was admitted to hospital. for help. It didn’t.
I cant profess to know what was totally going on in his head. What his thoughts were. I cant profess to really know how his wife felt, and how his children coped, being very young and now beautiful young adults themselves, but dealing with the loss of a father they can only have a few memories of, as they were so little back then. I cant profess to know how his close friends felt.
The only thing I do know is that, for A, at that time, there was no other way out. None. It was his way out.
It was mine too …
April 2008 – I even remember the date exactly. My life had slowly fallen apart, over a period of a few years. I was physically unwell, and mentally in a mess. I was trying to hold on to little strands of hope, and every time I thought I had hold of one firmly it was snipped away, cut in half, broken.
I once wrote, on this blog, about feeling like a vase, being broken, into tiny tiny shards of glass. And each time glass was broken, I would think it couldnt break any more, but it did, until eventually it was a dust. Eventually, so broken there is nothing left.
Thats how i felt. thats how it was.
Its very hard to explain, because I dont know who is going to be reading this blog, and what your views are. Its hard to describe to people just how much pain and torment you can be in. Its hard to put across, that actually, there really is sometimes no way out.
I didn’t know where to turn. i couldnt see a turning. a right, a left, a forwards, or even a backwards. I couldnt see anything.
Well i lie, i could see something, it was hell. It wasnt something I could just ‘pray’ myself out of. It was not something I could just ‘get a grip’ out of. It wasnt something i could get out of without making sure I went to sleep, not to wake up again.
And , so to that end, thats what I chose to do. and took enough of the stuff I did to make sure I didnt.
Thing is , for me, I survived. Thats a whole different blog/story in itself, for another time. But i survived. It hasnt been easy since, but two years on and life is moving in a different direction, I am learning to live again with the help of some lovely super people, learning to love again, learning to smile again, and although the process is long, and sometimes very tiring, rebuilding life. and thats a good thing.
As part of that process, the last few months have seen me become more involved in supporting people with issues I myself have experience in. It involves chatting to other survivors of child hood abuse, it involves speaking out about stuff, it involves having a voice. And sometimes thats exciting, sometimes its scary too, but an important thing.
Thing is, the way I see it, is that its important that peoples perception of issues are challenged. Especially, issues such as suicide.
Its important people are not afraid to talk about it.
Its important for people to know we’re not freaks, and neither are the people who have gone before us and have not survived.
Its also important to acknowledge the pain and heartache suicide causes.
Which is why I have rambled on above.
To this end, today, on world suicide prevention day, at 8pm, in just a little while in my time zone, I shall be lighting a candle, in memory of those we have lost, those who have survived, and those who are affected by it.
I hope you are able to join me, and if you read this when the time has passed i encourage you to say a thought, or a prayer, or something in your own time.
Also, if you are struggling, the samaritans number is - 08457 90 90 90 – please give them a call, and i urge you to seek help.
Greenbelt – Blog 1
September 4, 2010
Those of you who used to follow my old blog space will know that the last time I wrote about Greenbelt, I was unable to get it all into words in one post, without it being a mega essay, so did a series of GB blogs. I think this year will be similar. I am struggling to sit and write about ‘Greenbelt’ in one go, so shall be doing it in parts again.
this post, however I think is the introduction. For those who dont know what Greenbelt is or does, or means to be, it kinda mentions that. Then i’ll crack on with this years highlights 
Greenbelt is, for me, a really special time of year, as I know and am sure it is for many other people too. Its kind of like the end of one year, and the beginning of another. Its my new year. Forget beginning of Jan, for me the time to take stock, to reflect, to think, look back, try to look forwards, move on and lots of other stuff is August Bank Holiday. Its at a racecourse turned into a festival site. Its a place, that when set up, a friend of mine once called ‘Gods Playground’.
Greenbelt is so many things for me. Its the place I first started to explore life as a ‘survivor’ … its the place where I was able to join a group of other people who all got together to support each other throughout the weekend, and its the place where I found some safety in a world that felt unsafe. Its the place where I first cried my eyes out until they ran dry, with someone sat beside me offering me tissues and a lighter for the ever many ciggies i kept lighting. Its the place I felt accepted, without condemnation and judgement.
Its the place where a few years ago I sat in the middle of the arena field area, trying to participate in a service by ‘Grace’ and which was communion. I was alone, and sat with a group of random people I had just joined, and whom took me ‘in’ so to speak, because every time I attempted to say something within the hour, I just cried. Those peoples patience was unending. They took me as I was. Which sums up Greenbelt for me. Its takes me as I am. (incidentally it was during that service, that I still have a rainbow coloured windmill from as a reminder – that I felt for the first time in a long time life might be worth living – gb that year fell just four months after my OD, so life was still very raw at that point)
Its the place where I have turned up broken, so totally, yet have found some peace. Its also the place, where I have turned up in a different moment and been able to contribute something to it (i hope!).
Its the place, where friends from everywhere descend. Its the place where friends who are so close and know me inside out are, and the place where those friends are ‘there’. Its the place where I know people are at, and if i just rang one of the handful of folk this apply to, they would be there, whatever time of day it is. Its a place where people I love are at.
i could go on and on … about what greenbelt is … and actually what it is above, is personal to me.
greenbelt is many other things, its talks, its music, its about peace, justice, issues. its about faith. its about people.
if you have never been, dont know what i am rambling on about check out www.greenbelt.org.uk
sorry if the above is a ramble, my next blog will be about some of my highlights.
Celibacy – A Response
July 24, 2010
A little while ago, I suggested on Twitter that people gave me some topics to blog about. I got two. And I have yet to blog about either of them. How slack am I? So, the first was ‘chips and brown gravy and why I like it’. Unfortunately that blog is going to be rather hard to do, because I even though, to some people I am considered a ‘northerner’, not all of us like our chips with gravy! Cheese or curry sauce is a good combination though So, thanks for the suggestion, but I feel my blog duty on that topic is done now due to having a lack of anything to say about it.
The second suggestion was ‘Celibacy’. To which I went ‘whoah’, go in for the deep there then! So, as a response to that, I challenged the person who suggested it to ‘guest blog’ his views on the topic. Which he duly did, and which you can find by the clicking the link below if you have not read if or wish to refresh on what he wrote.
She Said No – by Tschaka – A Guest Blog
Now, having never invited someone to ‘guest blog’ for me before, I have learned one or two things. One of those things is that if its on a specific topic that I also want to write about, then it may be preferable for me to post first, so the guest blogger has an opportunity to respond. Also, I dont want it to feel/look like that I have invited someone to blog, and the by posting my owns view may be contradicting or arguing what they have said. That is never the intention. So, in future I shall either blog first or invite people to guest blog ‘stand alone’ topics.
Anyhow, as promised here are some of my thoughts.
The wikipedia definition of the word ‘Celibacy’ is this - Celibacy is defined as the lifestyle of someone who is voluntarily abstaining from all sexual activities (also known as “abstinence”), possibly remaining unmarried all his/her life.
I have conversations in the past with people, where the meaning of celibacy means different things. To me, in my mind, the meaning of it is as above. Its a lifestyle practice/choice that people make, for whatever reasons they choose. For some, or for the people I know who have gone down this choice, the reasons have been faith based. Their faith in Christianity is such that they believe they have been ‘called’ to live a life of celibacy, which means no sex, no marriage, no children. They feel called and choose to live a single life. Many people make a life long commitment to this. Some people set a period, for example 10 years. Maybe some people are intentionally ‘celibate’ for one or two years, to ‘test the water; so to speak. To see if its a calling God has on their life forever.
What I don’t believe celibacy is however, is being unable to find a partner. Or being ‘single’ and/or then ‘without sex’ for a while, however long that while is. It surely isn’t a choice if you haven’t made the choice is it?!
Whilst I have no problem with Tschaka in his post, where he writes about some of the people he knows being celibate because they want to be totally devoted to God, I would like to suggest you can be devoted to God without having to make such a huge step/commitment?
Its fair to point out right now, I am writing this, as I think its fair to say Tschaka did coming from a faith based perspective. If you read the page on wikipedia about ‘celibacy’ it lists lots of other reasons as to why people may ‘choose’ to be celibate. I guess I am interested in ‘Christians’ and celibacy.
I have spoken to one or two people in the past, over the years on this topic, and their experiences. I in fact myself did ’2′ years of intentional ‘celibacy’ living. I then decided it was not what God wanted for me, as my motivations behind it were less to do with it being Gods desire for me, as opposed to my inability to deal with ‘relationships’. For me, personally, it was a way of ‘copping out’ for a bit, hence it not being the right thing for me to do.
Tschaka expresses reasons in his post as to why some of his friends are celibate. They talk about living a full on life of sacrifice and not choosing to live by the worlds standards, BUT surely that can happen whether your married or not? Surely, you can honour God, not follow trends, and be totally committed to God AND be married or in a relationship?
All this kind of, in my head anyway, leads on the topic of S.E.X. Gasp. Not something everyone likes to mention/talk about/read on I guess. But, I am not shy
Part of being celibate is not having sex. Right. But why would God NOT want someone to have sex?
Isnt sex a natural, normal part of a relationship? Yes, it is also a procreation thing. To have children you need to have sex (although these days I guess there are more ways of going about it if you so choose).
I sometimes struggle to convince people that I do believe in the sanctity of sex, and personally I believe, for me, now anyway, it is something that should happen mutually within the confines of a marriage, however, if a couple have been together, say 20 years, are not married but totally committed to each, and dare I say God too, what actual harm is it for them to have sex? Is it offensive to God? or do we think /make more complicated what God is offended by?
I’d like to suggest that are more important issues to consider than whether people are having sex or not? I, in no means however think ‘casual’ sex is a particularly good idea, mostly due to health reasons.
Anyway, I am going to end this blog on that note, for the time being, and will come back to write some more thoughts on the topic at some point.
better than a hallelujah
July 2, 2010
came across the lyrics of a song, by amy grant earlier – made me think alot.
better than a hallelujah – lyrics by amy grant
God loves a lullaby
In a mothers tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.
God loves the drunkards cry,
The soldiers plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.
We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah.
The woman holding on for life,
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
The tears of shame for what’s been done,
The silence when the words won’t come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.
Better than a church bell ringing,
Better than a choir singing out, singing out.
She said No by Tschaka – A GUEST BLOG
June 11, 2010
She Said No is a guest blog, written by a friend for many years. The other day I challenged my twitter friends to give a blog topic, that I could write about, and I got two suggestions back. One being Celibacy (the second one being ‘why I like brown gravy and chips – which I will blog about soon!) .
When I read the topic, I was like, whoah, so in true Fragz style, I texted my friend, and asked if he’d consider guest blogging for me. He has taken me up on the challenge. So please find below Tschakas response to my challenge. I myself will write on this topic in the next few days too.
( Tschaka’s own blog can be found here)
She Said No – by Tschaka
I was challenged to write this ok?
So I’m making it up as I go along.
And it’s my fault. Afriend asked me what she should blog about and I tried to think of the most challenging thing possible.
So I said, ‘write about celibacy’. And she said, ‘only if you do too!’
It should be easy for me. I mean I live with several people who have decided that they are never going to marry. Why? Because they love God so much they want to live entirely for him (together with their friends).
But that sentence is enough to send most minds spinning. Mine too sometimes…
And yet I’ve seen it in action and it works, not always, but mostly; and it’s a beautiful thing…
It’s great to be around single people who just want to live life to the full, but not in a way that serves their own interests, but others’. There’s a family who live in the house too and they bring lots of life – in fact the simple humour and pleasure of sharing their lives is truly humbling – but it’s different. Being with celibates is inspiring, not because they are individually anything amazing (though they are) but because their direction in life causes you to look upwards to greater things. To things like living for God.
And there’s an even edgier reality to all this. I spoke to a man yesterday who knows a family with 13 children – 13! There’s no selfishness in that kind of life is there? Plenty of joy I imagine, but not much spare cash or time. They didn’t do it because they wanted to live-the-good-life. They made a strong choice not to live according to the common assumptions about how to be happy but in a way that fully celebrates life and yet is counter cultural.
In its own way, but in the other direction, celibacy is a full-on way of life too. Indeed it goes further in not choosing the world’s standards but a different way. I have friends, male and female who’ve said no to marriage for an adventure full of sacrifice and experience. A life filled with the choice to give yourself to other people and to God. In effect they’ve said no to the love of one friend above all others in exchange for a yes to the freedom to love as many friends as possible as much as possible. Famous Christian celibates like John Stott, Mike Pillavachi and Jackie Pullinger have always done that.
And I’m grateful that people like this, counter cultural people, married and celibate people, have always blessed me as I learn to follow Jesus, who is the ultimate in counter culture – because, of course, he wasn’t married either was he?
© Tschaka
my cardboard testimony
June 8, 2010
i found something a long time ago , on you tube, which i found by chance again tonight. i showed it to a friend, because it is quite a moving thing. basically people write their testimony in basic words, on cardboard. One side of the card board are big lettered words describing something, and then they turn it over to reveal the other side. these are their stories/testimonies.
my friend and i got talking about our own cardboard testimonies, and so i thought, i would share mine with you (obviously just written, and not on cardboard).
worthless, abused, ashamed, depressed, broken and wanting to die
learning to live again
I was reading the blog of a new friend on twitter last night, and found this poem. I find it beautiful so thought i’d share.
I want by Adrian Plass
I want to be touched by affectionate eyes
I want to be welcomed when welcome is rare
I want to be held when my confidence sighs
I want to find comfort in genuine care.
