THIS WORLD IS NOT MY HOME!

A VIEW OF THE CITY OF WELLS in Somerset, England. I probably visited Wells first when I was about 11 or 12 years old. It left a lasting mark upon my memory and is an integral part of what is, for me, the nostalgia of my Country. BUT at times, as a Christian, one can be made to feel it is somehow not quite right to let the land of one's birth mean more than the Kingdom of God. Thus the lyric that tells us 'This world is not my home, I'm just a passing through', which no doubt is aligned to Hebrews 13v12 and 1.Peter 2v11 where we are told to see ourselves as having 'no continuing city here on earth, but as seeking one that is to come' and again to reckon ourselves as 'strangers and pilgrims' in our earthly lives. Why get so 'attached' to the world around us - and as one might follow this line of reasoning, it will question the whole idea of national pride and identity. Yet I feel that like it or not our 'earthly' roots and origins have a lot to do with the people we become, and are. Forty years AWAY from England somehow has not managed to dim or cloud the 'idea' of England, or of being English!! CAREFUL Green, we must not seem to be racial or 'True Blue British' by any means, That would be very politically incorrect. Away with England and St. George, away with Trafalgar, King and Country - away even with Christ and Christendom.

I remember well, as I walked first the streets of Wells that sleepy summer day in Somerset; I remember the sense of 'for everlasting' that assailed me as I felt the warm sun upon my bare young arms, and gazed at sights that took me back in time. Not as crowded then as now, but still quietly busy, without the noise and inordinate clatter of today's world. Not so much traffic either, and one could still smell the aromer of the many bakeries and coffee shops. A piece of England that surely would never change. HAS it changed I wonder. When I first saw the west front of the Cathedral, I just felt overwhelmed by its beauty and grandeur, and I have always felt ever since that it was one of the most joy filled places I had ever entered.

In 1983 - the second and only other time, I visited Wells, the Cathedral was undergoing Restoration. It was also full of little booths (as many other Cathedrals are) given up to trade and bric-a-brac. I left feeling the emptiness of what before had been such a fullness. BUT of course life must go on. Wells was busier but still with the ability to confront you with the mystique of the past, and the sense of an almost eternal sameness. It still evoked an 'unchanging' England that identified with infinity, and with all our long historical past................You see! I am not so much a nationalist as a romantic.

AND WHAT has stirred all this up this week. Why the funeral of Harry Patch, a man I remembered seeing once or twice on TV, but whose life and importance had quite escaped my real notice. Harry Patch! A very 'ordinary' man, said his friend Jim Ross at the funeral. The last man left from the English Trenches of the 1st World War. A man who went almost unknown for the next eighty years of his life until he wrote a book, and bared his heart about WAR, and his own personal taste of it. I have not read the book yet. I WILL read it.

I watched the Funeral on SKY tv - who managed to effectively interrupt their LIVE broadcast to spend 30 minutes on the Bank Rate - Almost sacrilege, but true to the average trend as far as national and spiritual interest is concerned. I was greatly moved in my own soul as I watched - saddened not to see and hear ALL that had been arranged as part of the day. QUITE amazed and surprised to see a 1000 souls come to give respect INSIDE the ancient walls of Wells Cathedral, walls that had stood so long to witness centuries of worship, and public testimony to a shameless Love for God. Surprised to see men and women (admittedly more of them over 50 than otherwise) not just attending to WATCH, but in the majority it seemed to actually open their mouths to SING, and to PRAY, many with tears in their eyes, and obvious evidence that they BELIEVED in GOD! I was touched with spiritual PRIDE that there are of my Countrymen. still some that have not turned their backs on the 'Old Ways' of the Land. NONSENSE! I can hear some say it. I forgive you! MANY have visited us here to say England is a GODLESS land, and that the hearts of the people have gone a whoring. BUT, I caught a glimpse, just a glimpse perhaps, that all is not lost. A REMNANT is still standing there in the shadows. We must not become like Elijah at the Mount, and believe in total loss. God always has His witnesses. I was witnessed to at Harry's Funeral. Thank you Harry, and thanks too to all those that put that Service together and made it happen. And what about WAR? Am I for it or against it? Would I say with Harry it was not worth it ? I was born in 1940. I had little knowledge of the 1st Great War until I myself was an adult, and no part at all in the 2nd. BUT I have inherited a kind of 'feeling' about WAR from those childhood days when the 2nd Great War was ending. I too have wondered in my latter years if our fathers would have thought any of it was worth it. I have wondered if we have today what we thought we had THEN, to die for. ARE we a better Nation I wonder. How DO we see ourselves - diluted perhaps, ashamed of our heritage, our history, and our faith not really bothered perhaps.

HARRY said he did not fight for King or Country - he just did what he was told. No doubt a good many others might say the same. BUT some DID fight for what they believed in, and many of them DID believe in England - and the King. Is that too trite...too ridiculous? Yes, today I think it would be. For the most part I do not see RESPECT either for England or the Queen. Respect for ANYTHING is hard to find. BUT men and women GAVE their lives - there has to be a reason if any of it is to mean anything. Harry felt there was and is NO reason.

When I was a much younger man in Bible College, I spend part of my holidays in a small Nursing Home for the elderly as a male nurse; basically to earn my Fees. This Home was known as Pouchlands Hospital in Sussex, and had at one time, many years before, also been a Work House for the destitute and homeless. One night when I was alone on night duty on the male ward, I heard a man start shouting and crying.. 'I killed them, I killed them! Oh dear God, I am a Murderer -condemned!' There was only very subdued lighting in the ward and more than forty beds.

I could still hear the man sobbing as I walked down trying to locate him. I had been warned about him by the Matron. "You might get disturbed by Jack - he's a 2nd world war veteran, and gets disturbed at night at times. Just ignore him and he will quieten."

I had found him. I had known him of course from when I was on day duty, but he had never spoken to me. A man of about 68 I would say, unsmiling, without visitation. Tonight, my first night on duty I found him awake and still convulsed with sobs. I was 25. I found it strangely upsetting to see this elderly man so disturbed. I put my hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it violently from him.. "Don't touch me...you don't know me..I'm a killer." he said between clenched teeth and snarling lip. I sat on the edge of his bed. Tell me about it. I said.

Little by little, through the early hours of that long night, Jack told me how he had entered the war as a Regular Soldier. He was a crack shot, and he was an assigned sniper whose duty it was to pick off those of the enemy before they could themselves kill. He often did so before they even saw him, or were able to defend themselves. Some he shot in the back. It was all in the call of Duty. He just did what he was told - just as HARRY PATCH did. And afterwards, when the war was over, and he continued to live, he lived on with the memory and the GUILT of what he had done. Nothing could expunge it from his memory, and right up to that momentous night he was haunted, hounded, hunted down by the thought of each and every man he had killed so precisely and so well. He made my hair stand on end during his recital.

BUT at the end I found he had some faith imparted to him as a child in Sunday School in an Anglican Church. But how could God really forgive him. He could not believe it. BUT I COULD, and by morning Jack also came to believe it for Himself, and he slept. He opened up like a flower - but not for long did we enjoy the sight for the Lord took him within the week.

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Attending TWO weddings today. One a Christian Wedding and the other a Muslim Wedding. Very interesting, and both parties friends of the Homes for many years now. I should say that Esther, Many, Helen and Daryl are attending. I am not. This week I have been battling with a heavy 'flu (NOT Swine flu) and still coughing powerfully! Yesterday my right leg began to present signs of the problem I had last year when I had a trapped nerve. Not SO painful so far, and I can move around, but still not very restful. Just the Enemy having a go.

DAYS are flying by. School IS only partially shut as we still have extra tuition for some classes continuing. So plenty to do still. Jesse Renata seems to be recovering well, and has now been accepted to Train as a State Enrolled Nurse. She is very excited.

Two more Sundays left to announce the Banns for Michael and Janet's Wedding on the 22nd, and then a week later the 40th Anniversary is scheduled to take place. We expect at least 300 guests on the 29th to Celebrate. A great deal to do and arrange. We need your prayers that the weather will be great, and that all the needs will be met.

THEN - the first week in September - SCHOOL will begin AGAIN. Life NEVER stops. And each DAY brings us NEARER to the Coming of the Lord Himself. Oh Glory! Oh HALLELUJAH!

Love YOU ALL. Keep on Watch....

John and Esther