I’m often quite uncomfortable talking to Christians. So I wasn’t terribly happy to find myself sandwiched between a few of them at a wedding reception I was at on Saturday. They sat there talking across me about their passion for the lost, and all the things God was doing in their lives… And I sat there wishing that I could be anywhere but there, or at the very least that I could have considerably more wine inside me. Eventually the food was served, and the conversation shifted to topics that I was more suited to - viagra jokes for example. Nice.
I ate well, and had a few more drinks, and the dancing began. I had a few dances with a few pretty ladies, and in between dances I ranted at a girl that I presumptuously refer to as my best friend even though I’ve made little to no effort to keep in touch with her of late. I moaned and complained about life, and all the problems I’m facing, and how I don’t understand what’s really going on. She said that Alison and I should pray about it, and rely on God for guidance and support. Christians, huh? So predictable.
I’ve not made any concerted effort to read the Bible since I moved house in August. I’ve not prayed in a much longer time than that. I’ve given up on believing that my faith has any perceptible impact on my life. I’ve gone on going to church out of habit, kept saying the right things to stay in the Christian conversations, and just got on with my life in the meantime. I’ve been content to believe that I’ll get to heaven in the end, if only on the technicality that I believe in God and believe that Jesus came to save us, even if that means nothing for me in my daily life. God will be obliged to let me in, because I’ve just barely fulfilled the requirements. And while Jesus may indeed have said “In my Father’s house are many rooms” I’ve come to accept that I’ll end up in the garden shed. Heaven, but only just.
So, after a few more dances at the reception, it was getting towards time for the beautiful, happy couple to leave. I got a lift back to the station from my friend’s boyfriend’s twin brother’s fiancee, with everyone in between. A 20 minute car journey with 4 enthusiastic Christians. Thankfully, we talked about sport and Dirty Dancing. Hardly my two specialist subjects, but certainly more comfortable topics than might have come up.
I headed back to my friend’s flat where I was staying the night. We chatted, ate a pizza and played on his flatmate’s Nintendo Wii. We didn’t get to sleep till gone two.
The next morning, as we were having breakfast, the aforementioned flatmate asked what we had been up to the night before. We told him that I had been to a wedding. “Oh,” he said, “any nice bridesmaids there?”. Had my brain worked quicker, I would have replied with “Yes, but not as nice as there were when I got married.” Sadly I didn’t come up with that witty riposte until about 12 hours later. My friend bailed me out, telling him that I was in fact married with a child. “God almighty” came the reply.
A few hours later, as I sat on the train back up North, I thought to myself - “God almighty indeed.” He is largely responsible for my getting married to Alison, convincing us that it was the right thing to do. He then followed up with the whole unexpected baby debacle (pronounced deh-backal, as per John Cusack in High Fidelity) and the associated drama of finding a new house and a new job in a new part of the country. Thanks God.
No, really, thanks God. Thanks for ensuring that my life isn’t boring. For keeping me on my toes. For giving me things to live for. For giving me a wife and daughter to look after and love. For putting me in the right job, providing me with a great house, and a supportive church to go to.
I realise now that while I’ve been struggling on, battling through life, God has been there, in the background, helping me out. I’ve left him out of my plans, and tried to do things in my own strength, abandoning him, giving up on prayer and the Bible, but God has stayed with me, helping me along even though I was doing my best to ignore him. He helped me to get a degree and a wife in practically the same breath. He has helped and is still helping Alison through our first few years of marriage. He has brought beautiful baby Beth to us, safe and healthy, and more amazing every day. He saw to it that I would get the right job, even though my first interview was such a disaster that after it finished I called Alison to say that “It was a disaster. It will be an act of God if I get that job.” I didn’t mean it at the time - it was an off the cuff remark, but I was right. I didn’t deserve that job in any way based on that interview, and I can’t believe that anything I said or did got me through to the next round.
A couple of hours later, my train arrived at Wigan station, and I met Alison and Beth and we went home. We put Beth to bed and had the evening together. Before bed, I said to Alison that we should pray together. She was surprised to say the least. That’s really not the sort of thing I say. So we prayed and went to sleep. This evening we read our Bible’s and then prayed. Tomorrow we will do the same. And perhaps if I make the effort with God, He will come closer, and speak to me again.
I’ve spent too long trying to be too passive in my faith. I’ve believed that it can be just a habit, that I can be a Christian without having to do anything about it. I’ve expected God to keep speaking to me, while ignoring his instructions to sort bits of my life out. I’ve thought I could get by without praying, or reading the Bible, or making any effort to follow God’s plans. I was, to say the least, wrong. So it’s time to pull my finger out, and do all the things I should have been doing all this time. Praying, reading the Bible, talking about my faith… It begins now.
I’m not fixed yet, but I’m surer than I’ve been in a long time that I’ll get there.
