Spinning the plates of life...

These are busy times...As a third year University student, I have enough work to do to keep me very busy seven days a week. The other interesting thing about University is that it's so expensive that i take three out of those 7 days to earn enough money to pay the rent...Add to all that the craziness of planning a wedding, preparing mentally and spiritually for marriage, finding a house and a proper job and serving the church, practicing piano, cleaning the bathroom, reading the Bible, sorting out emails (and still having at least a few small moments to relax, sleep, drink coffee and wine and recharge), and it becomes a bit like an elaborate circus act in which I am the proverbial clown attempting to keep each of these plates from smashing to the floor through neglect.

"Why are you wasting your time blogging!?" I hear you cry. (Well I don't actually because no-one follows my blog!) That may be a valid question. Either way I am finding this whole season to be a rather dichotomous one. It's great, then it's terrible. It's blissfully exciting and then terrifyingly exhausting, sometimes in the same wheezing breath. It's like jogging back and and forth between cloud 9 and the seventh circle.

             Spinning plates is tiring. I am learning each day that i must enlist some help, allow people into my life to aid me in this daunting campaign. I also must lean on a massively important doctrinal truth;

1)That God is for me and not against me, that he plans to prosper me, carry me, bless me and show favour towards me. I have grace upon grace and a place to go to find peace and security amidst the terrors of life. 

I must just reiterate something before drawing this entry to it's conclusion; 

Life is incredible. I love it. Despite the exhaustion, the stress and the insanity, there is laughter, fun, blessing, and profound, inexplicable joy. I am not complaining whatsoever. I am more blessed than I thought it possible to be blessed. I have such a deep sense of pleasure in each passing day and am loving this process of learning how to be a good steward of my spinning plates. Hopefully I will one day be skilled enough to help others learn the same lessons that i have learned.

The gentleman's manifesto

This particular entry is pretty much an irrelevant rambling of my own harbored yearning to have been born 100 years ago into high society. It reveals in me a terrible fondness for material things and a snobbishness that isn't welcome in today's society. Oh well. I'm only human. 

 I'm here to admit that I have a bit of a soft spot for the finer things in life, those things that help a man to feel like he is actually a gentlemen, an aristocrat even.  Now i'm of course aware that I am still in my twenties and so surely am too young to appreciate these things with the maturity of a 50 year old, but honestly, please believe me, I just love indulging in the things designed for gentlemen to be reassured that they are indeed gentlemen...Sadly, many of the 'finer things' are now largely archaic, old fashioned, of a bygone age and seem out of place in the 21st Century. This is a great shame. Any fans of P.G. Wodehouse or Conan Doyle will know what I am talking about. Here are some examples just to illustrate my point;

 So you get the point; in decades and centuries past, there was an appreciation for opulence and class that has somewhat changed...The term 'Classy' no longer denotes a gent with a good tweed, striking leather brogues and a well positioned pipe. The sort of man who had a well stocked cigar and brandy cabinet to match a broad supply of ale and an eclectically filled cheese larder. Men no longer have letter openers, ink-pots and  quills, personalised silk handkerchiefs, tailors, barbers (proper barbers) and book binders...The waxed moustache, the personal valet and the obligatory pocket-watch are long dead features of the average man on the street. Sadness. 

The following extract is the brilliant manifesto of 'The chap'; a magazine that celebrates the fast fading desire to be gentlemen of class and dignity;

Society has become sick with some nameless malady of the soul. We have become the playthings of corporations intent on converting our world into a gargantuan shopping precinct. Pleasantness and civility are being discarded as the worthless ephemera of a bygone age - an age when men doffed their hats to the ladies, and small children could be counted upon to mind one's Jack Russell while one took a mild and bitter in the local hostelry.

Instead, we live in a world where children are huge hooded creatures lurking in the shadows; the local hostelry has been taken over by a large chain that specialises in chilled lager, whose principal function is to aggravate the nervous system. Needless to say, the Jack Russell is no longer there upon one's return.

The Chap proposes to take a stand against this culture of vulgarity. We must show our children that the things worth fighting for are not the latest plastic plimsolls but a shiny pair of brogues. We must wean them off their alcopops and teach them how to mix martinis. Let the young not be ashamed of their flabby paunches, which they try to hide in their nylon tracksuits - we shall show them how a well-tailored suit can disguise the most ruined of bodies. Finally, let us capitalise on youth's love of peculiar argot Ð only replace their pidgin ghetto-speak with fruity bons mots and dry witticisms.

It is time for Chaps and Chapettes from all walks of life to stand up and be counted. But fear not, ye languid and ye plain idle: ours is a revolution based not on getting up early and exerting oneself - but a revolution that can be achieved by a single raised eyebrow over a monocle; the ordering of a glass of port in All Bar One; the wearing of a particularly fetching cardigan upon a visit to one's bookmaker. In other words: a revolution of panache. We shall bewilder the masses with seams in our trousers that could cut paper, trilbies angled so rakishly that traffic comes to a standstill; and by refusing the bland, watery substances that are foisted upon us by faceless corporations, we shall bring the establishment to its knees, begging for sartorial advice and a nip from our hip flasks.

I will live my entire life secretly wishing I could justify being as old fashioned as possible.

A weekend of adventure

This past weekend me and Rebekah seized upon a rare opportunity to escape the confines of lovely Brighton and see some family. We first took a train (that was very nearly missed!) up to Croydon to see Becks Mum and Brother. It was really nice being outside the usual setting and enjoying some time to relax. Inevitably, Becks and her mum discussed wedding details for much of our time there! There was a lot of snow in Croydon, which was fun, but it also meant we were unsure of whether we could make it to Wales on Friday for an engagement party at my parent's house in Wales. On Friday morning we decided to attempt the drive and brave the roads to get to Wales. The Severn bridges were closed because of huge sheets of ice falling onto cars and smashing windscreens! The photo below shows the third lane of the M4 completely closed because of snow. 

By the time we got to the bridges, the old one had opened and our journey turned out to be fairly void of drama. In fact it was wonderful just spending time with my fiancee, chatting, singing and generally being a pair of goofs. 

The sun going down on the channel as we crossed the bridge was a highlight. 

We arrived at my parent's and had a really great time seeing family, partying, hanging out with old friends, and mucking around in the snow. Back in Brighton, the challenge of a fresh week of work, university, wedding planning, meetings, and the general business of life awaits. 

A lesson to be learned...

I have recently come to some understanding that life is, as much as anything else, a continual journey throughout which important lessons are learned along the way...In recent months I have learned one big lesson- That I AM NOT IN CONROL. 

This is both a liberating and sometimes daunting thing to be reminded of, and it's a lesson that has been often taught to me and others I know 'the hard way'.

Far too often, I slip into the mindset of living my life believing myself to be in the driving seat. After all, I am the one making decisions and taking actions that lead to consequences. I choose where to go and what to do...But then the rug is pulled out from beneath me and I am once again reminded that it is in fact God who has his hands on the wheel. The famous Burns quote "The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft aglay" is one that rings true, often with enough clarity to bring you to your knees. The truth is, no matter what my great and wonderful plans are, I do not control all things.  

As a matter for illustration, take this example; Me and Bex recently bought a car. We had paid the deposit to the owner having found a great deal on a great little motor and were looking forward to receiving it. Within days of paying the deposit, the car had been written off in a crash. Now we are back to the drawing board. Our great and clever plans were out of our hands all along.

The snow that falls from the sky and disrupts the nation, the car that appears and is crushed to a cube within a few days, the friend whose mother becomes ill and dies within 8 weeks, the collapse of an entire economy...all these things remind me that I cannot claim to have any sovereignty over anything. I am living under the mercy and grace of the one who does have control and sovereignty. 

The best thing is, that despite these lessons being painful, I am left feeling stronger. Like an unruly shrub in need of a good pruning, I need to undergo these lessons, in order that I grow stronger and straighter. God is a great gardener, capable of turning useless shrubs like me into strong and straight trees. He prunes and tends to me because he desires to see me grow into a man of the kind of maturity and strength that I could never achieve without being 'pruned' by these lessons. 

I am so glad that it is not me that is in control and feel sorry for those who fail to embrace this truth and live in the good of it. 

This weeks excitement! 'Snow and pain killers'

On Monday morning half of England awoke and rubbed it's tired eyes to see a wintery wonderland glittering and glistening away...The snow here was apparently the heaviest in about 18 years. I grew up in Wales were it snows most winters, so can't vouch for this claim, although that statistic doesn't surprise me much. The South coast is a good deal milder than where my parents still reside in South Wales. The other thing that didn't surprise me was the typical British reaction to a few inches of harmless snow. Of course the buses and trains were suspended, airplanes cancelled, schools closed and shops inundated with (i feel slightly naive) hoards of panic ridden shoppers, stocking up on blankets, water, spare toothbrushes...you get the idea. I can't help but be a little embarrassed by the British tendency to behave like startled cattle in this type of situation. Having spent a week in The Franco/Italian Alps last month, as well as sometime in St.Louis (Missouri) and Detroit (Michigan) two weeks ago, it's safe to say that the English are yet to learn how to deal with a bit of snow!! I suppose (and in our favour) because it's such a rarity, we are fundamentally under-equipped to clear it efficiently. We have very few snow plows in Brighton!! And unlike Finland, there are no heated roads and we aren't obliged by law to have a set of snow chains ready to fit to our tyres...Maybe if i keep leaving the fridge door open and using my nasty deodorants the ice caps will melt and we'll all be forced to adapt one day.  That would be kind of fun. 

Anyway God bless silly old Blighty and it's typical predictable and (in an odd, quaint and heartwarming way) pathetic reaction to a few flakes of snow. Lets hope the whole place doesn't fall apart next time the clouds unleash their cargo. 

The Great Spraining

Last night as i ran to catch a bus home after doing some wedding planning with Bex, i landed on some ice and my right foot was twisted in a manner that I had never considered possible. After hobbling onto the bus in agony and eventually making it home with much wailing and gnashing of teeth, i put it on ice and took some pills before getting some sleep. When I awoke this morning, it was exceedingly swollen and turning an intriguing colour, and i am unable to walk on it. Being a stubborn sort of chap, I will only ever visit a doctor or hospital as a last resort. I've spent enough wasted hours sitting in A&E departments, only to be told that "there's nothing wrong" and "the profuse bleeding will subside soon" to have learned that a visit to hospital should be carried out only under the direst of circumstances. 

I have sprained my ankle many times before, often playing rugby, but never has it been quite as painful as this time. Deep within me i knew that I had to make the dreaded visit to the Sussex General, because i was convinced that I had done some fairly substantial damage this time. So, i made the trip (thanks to a kind friend with an automobile) this morning. As suspected, it's worse than your average sprain. It turns out i have torn the main ligament connecting the ankle with the foot. It hasn't snapped entirely, but its badly torn and will require a good bit of rest.  So here i sit, with my foot 'elevated' and with enough pills to tranquilize a pigmy tribe for a week, feeling slightly sorry for myself and in a lot of pain. 

The upside is, i rather enjoy sitting down, and so have a great excuse to indulge in just that, free of the usual guilt and condemnation that comes with sitting down for extended periods of time when you really should be doing other things. 

Every cloud.

What's happening for me?

Well...after the somewhat sprawling and yawn inducing first post (my 'manifesto') I thought I ought to just provide a choice few words on who I am, what I'm doing and why you might be interested to read anything that i have to say. 

I live in Brighton, England. I have been to many cities in my short life but can honestly say that Brighton is one of the good ones. I love living here for many reasons. Maybe i'll do a whole post on Brighton soon.

I am studying music at Sussex University and will finish studying this May...It's been great, I've loved it and will miss it, however my being brought to Brighton to study was basically God's way of transporting me from the lovely sleepy town in South Wales where i grew up to the hustle bustle and excitement of Brighton (almost three years ago...sheesh!) It was his way of getting me here to do things for him that i could never have imagined doing...I have truly found my home here. This city will be a significant feature of my time on this planet. I plan to stay here for the foreseeable future. (Build a family and get on God's mission. Jeremiah 29!) I am not saying that university has been inconsequential, but what i mean is that it has been something of a conduit...a passageway to a great many other things...i will elaborate later.

Most importantly I am an unashamed believer in Jesus Christ and his work. Without his help I would be screwed. Hopeless. Directionless. I have joy, peace, hope, promise, security and direction because I am no longer God's enemy. I am no longer God's enemy because Jesus came and lived an amazingly holy life; a life of holiness that i could never achieve even if i tried. He then traded his holiness with my filth and sin so that God could have me near him. God wants me near him because he really rather likes me, loves me in fact. Unfortunately he could never have me anywhere near him because of how unholy i am. Unholy things can't get within a bazillion miles of God. Jesus went to the cross, taking my filth and sin with him, where it was subjected to God's just anger towards it. God destroyed my sin, my jealousy, my hatred, my bitterness, my deceit and ultimately his own son, who took upon himself the punishment that HAD to be given. My disgustingness has to be punished and paid for, and that's what Jesus did when he was crucified. It was my sin that held Christ to the cross and my sin that was dealt with. So, Jesus basically took my old identity- as a foul, debased sinner, and took it to the cross with him to get destroyed. He then took his identity; as a perfect, righteous and sinless man, and gave it to me. Now when God sees me, he doesn't see the sin and filth, because its gone. He sees perfection! You may well be reading this thinking....'thats just crazy'....well, the truth is, it is crazy. I can't get my head around it, because its mind blowing and too good to be true. The effort that God has gone to to save me is crazy. Craziness! 

For the reasons so ineloquently outlined above, I am someone who loves to be with other humans that God has saved and redeemed and filled with joy and hope. That's why I actively and headstrongly attend CCK in Brighton, a large church filled with passionate, hopeful, life-loving Christians. No church is perfect, but CCK comes close. Don't even think about objecting until you have seen it. 

http://www.cck.org.uk/Group/Group.aspx?id=78259

CCK is where i have met some of the most wonderful people on God's green earth. Too many to mention. I have made friends here that will have a profound and life long influence in my life. It is at CCK that i met Rebekah Campbell. We became close friends and decided we really loved each other. Now, almost two years later, we are going to get married and share our entire lives with one another. Before long her surname will have changed!!  Second to my love of Jesus Christ is my love for Rebekah. She is my soulmate, my inspiration my best friend and the most special, precious and beautiful human being that God has ever created.

The third great joy of my life is music. Playing music and singing is something i am programmed to do. Something i was designed to do. Because of my involvement in my church i get to make music and sing with some amazing, influential and talented people, all over the country (and abroad)  and sometimes in front of thousands of people. My best friends are these musicians. They are all wonderful, inspiring people.

 I play; for an audience of one though.

It's a privilege that goes beyond words, playing and serving and helping people meet God through his gift of music. I hope and pray that i will continue to do so for many many years. 

That's enough for now eh?! 

Time for a nice cuppa and maybe some malt loaf. 

O.A.O. (Over and out!)