Why we still need the pandemic.

As I listened to the news this morning, I began to realise that we are not yet ready for this pandemic to end.  We still haven’t learned what we need to learn.

We still haven’t learned that one person is just as valuable and important as another.

We haven’t learned that money and economic systems must be our servant and not our master.

Can you believe that as a nation we are debating whether it is necessary to ensure that children should be fed?  Of course it is!  We would not contemplate not feeding our own children, so the question betrays that we think ‘our’ children are more valuable than ‘their’ children. 

We are debating whether, if we do have to help, is it better to give food vouchers or food parcels to the poor.  Why would we not simply give the money? Because ‘they’ are not to be trusted to spend it wisely, whilst ‘we’ have so much money that we can spend it frivolously and still have full bellies.

Within this nation, within this world, we don’t value one person as much as another .  The pandemic is forcing us to see this and learn our lesson – but we are not there yet.

Money is a man-made invention; a tool that should allow everyone to contribute what they are able to society and to receive what they need from society.  Yet an alien would see that although there is food in supermarkets, there are people who have no food but are not allowed to eat it.   The alien would see that whilst some people are contributing according to their abilities, others are not permitted to – those same people who are not allowed to eat.  The alien would see that – for instance – there are those who have no homes but that those with building skills are building bigger houses for those who already have them. 

The alien would ask why.  Why is this person allowed to eat, but that one is not?  Why are people building this person a bigger house when that person has nowhere to live?  The alien would conclude that ‘this’ person must be different from ‘that’ person; a superior being, more valuable and important.

Our actions show that we do not believe that one person is just as valuable and important as another.

We might say ‘everyone matters’ and ‘everyone is equally important’. And if we really mean it, then we have become subservient to an economic system that does not allow us to express that belief.  We have sacrificed our beliefs in fundamental  morality and truth to an artificially generated concept – money – that is supposed to be our servant but that has become our master.

We have become slaves to an economic situation where two equally important human beings receive grossly unequal shares of the fruits of the labour of society, and where two equally important human beings are given vastly different opportunities to use their skills and abilities to contribute to society.

The Nazis outwardly claimed superiority over other races – but don’t our actions show that we hold those beliefs in our hearts?  

That is one lesson of this pandemic. Have we learned it yet? If we have learned it, are we not ashamed?  If so, we can repent and amend our thinking and our actions. 

And have we learned yet from that pandemic that we have become slaves to our economic system?  That we have sacrificed our morality, our humanity to a man-made mechanism?  When we have learnt that lesson we need to decide what we are going to do about it:  Individually, and as a nation.

So perhaps we are not yet ready for this pandemic to end.  Perhaps we still haven’t learned what we need to learn.  But I hope it won’t take us too long!

A robust intellectual basis for Christianity is not enough.

I like to understand why things are like they are. As a child I was taught that science provides the answers that I needed.

When in later life I became a Christian I thought that there was a conflict between science and God, but for a while reconciled this with the idea that ‘God can do anything’. A simple idea, but science and faith was not an area that I really wanted to explore.

We are given the impression that ‘science knows’, but we just haven’t been told yet. About five years ago I decided to find out. What does science know? What does it still not know? Are there things it can never know? Taking everything into account, what story best fits all the facts, a godless universe or one with a God?

I adopted an analytical approach, but avoided the temptation to dig too deeply into details of each field. I just tried to understand the underlying principles sufficiently to see what they contribute to the big picture. I found that most people feel uncomfortable outside of their specialist field, that few seem willing to take the necessary overview.

Having read a couple of books like ‘The Edge of Evolution” by the Intelligent Design proponents I began thinking that it may be possible to prove God exists. But then I read secular books on the origins of life and realised that everyone accepts the remarkable unlikelihood of life but that it doesn’t provide irrefutable proof – there are alternative explanations such as the multiverse theory.

I needed to find out where the Bible came from; could I trust it, and if so, why? I researched the source of the NT documents in particular, and some of the gospel accounts that are excluded from the Bible (the Da Vinci code stuff). I realised that the gospel accounts are not trying to prove who Jesus was and what he did, but that they wouldn’t have been written if he hadn’t done some amazing things. The accounts are simply people trying to capture what happened for future generations. The Bible is not a spells book: “Do this and God will do that for you”.

I reached a number of conclusions about how to understand and respond to the big picture of what’s going on. Realising that everything requires a level of faith (including science of course), I suggest a response which recognises that many religious and scientific dogmas are unproven and unprovable – but unnecessary. I call the response “Minimalist Christianity”. I wrote up what I found in “The Big Picture”, found a publisher and then set about marketing my masterpiece.

There is a robust intellectual basis for Christianity, and I would commend it to others, but I recently realised that in exploring it I was falling into a bit of a trap. Because I have necessarily spent several years testing and probing, viewing things sceptically, I let my personal spiritual life become analytical too. My reasoning has shown that God exists, and that he must have a ‘personality’ and want to interact with each of us, but I have not really been responding to the real God – just developing an intellectual one.

We need to ‘get to know God’ as more than an idea; I need to follow my own advice! It is from the integrity of that relationship that the power to fulfil our purpose will flow. We need analysis to know that we can trust, but then we need to act on that trust to complete the experience. Having determined that the rock exists, we need to actively build the house of our life on it!

“Anyone who listens to my teaching and follows it is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. Though the rain comes in torrents and the floodwaters rise and the winds beat against that house, it won’t collapse because it is built on bedrock.” Jesus circa 30AD