Why are hate, fear and anger an OK justification right now?

There is so much hate in the world at the moment: Trump talking of walls and bans for people of a certain religion, ISIS killing people in general, benefit cuts, MPs voting against taking refugees. It is a sad time. A time where the media can focus on all the hate in the world, in turn allowing people to believe that is all there is. But what about love. 

Love is the most important thing in the world. Not hate, fear or anger; at the end of the day none of that will matter. It will be merely a reason behind a bad decision, an excuse to act out without compassion for your fellow humans, it won't matter. It will be nothing. 

Why do you think we have prisons? Academically we could put that down to social conditioning, control, a decision of those in power and their desire to stay in power. But those crimes that prisons punish: murder, rape, burglary, assault. They are all based around hate, a split second disregard for that other persons feelings, that others persons individual feelings, emotion and right to safety and life. Now let's ask a question: why are there not more people in prison? Should we be arresting those responsible for cutting benefits, isn't that a disregard for a persons rights and emotions? What about those who speak out against relocating refugees: why do we have more rights than those people? Why do we have a right to be in this country more than them? They are the same being, they breathe, eat and poop. What about Trump? A few have said he is the anti-Christ, his views to not let Muslims into his country or Mexican immigrants, well that shows a disregard of their rights and a belief that his rights, and those of people like him, are more important. 

So now let's ask a question. When did this hate start? When did we start believing that hate, fear and anger were reasonable justifications for actions, and not feelings we should overcome? When was that OK? 

People say Trump is succeeding because he is speaking out, he is saying what other people couldn't because it wasn't politically correct. So this backlash might be saying that saying something is politically correct or not is not the best idea. So should we just trust that people love and have compassion for theirs fellow humans enough that they wouldn't ban people from entering a country because somebody else with a similar name or religion have done something bad? Apparently not. 

So let's take that to mean that hate, fear and anger existed before we classified things as politically correct or not. It existed in world war two, well it existed in one regime, one man Hitler functioned on hate, fear and anger; he blossomed under those conditions. We said that he was wrong. Classifying people by race was wrong, not protecting disabled people was wrong: so why is it ok now? 

What about Stalin? We say he was wrong too, we say genocide is wrong, we say Jack the Ripper was an evil man. But now we live in a world where we are sitting there and allowing people with the same motivations function in the acceptable side of society, 

It is not acceptable, it is not right to hate people. It is good to fear people or justify your actions because of it. Being angry doesn't make something right, it just makes us think irrationally. These emotions are natural, they happen, and there is no surprise they happening now. But then again maybe if we loved instead of hated, if we forgave instead of getting angry and we forgot instead of fearing then maybe the world could be full of love.

Maybe the world would look like a brighter place if we shared that love for other people. Maybe the world would be a stronger place if we loved every human being, hey every animal, as if they were our husband and wife, our sister or brother, our mother or farther. 

I am going to start sharing love. Simple love at the-love-channel.blogspot.com. I'd rather read about love right now, I hope you will agree. 

I love you. 

Othering, the fear of difference and a call to celebrate it.

 This is written in response to Zia Haider Rahman's article 'Oh, so now I'm Bangladeshi'  
(http://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/10/opinion/oh-so-now-im-bangladeshi.html?mwrsm=Facebook&_r=1).

I read it, thought about it and ran a long way away from the original starting point with it. 

I am sorry if any wording is deemed offensive, it isn't meant to be in anyway. At the end of the day my main point is every human being should be celebrated, and not judged on something they have no power over. 

The ‘other’, it’s a dangerous concept isn’t it. This incessant need of humans to label differences, to provide strength to our individualities, to be deemed normal.

I read an article this morning. It was shared by an incredible woman who I went to a May Ball with in my final year. This article, ‘Oh, so now I’m Bangladeshi?’ by Zia Haider Rahman, was published in 2016, yes 2016. Yet it is still about a subconscious racism. The line “What more is it do you want of us? To be white? To be you?” couldn’t make this clearer. While we may not have racial-hate-statements written across the walls, we might not live in an age where schools, hospitals and buses are segregated by skin colour, we might even be in an age when to a naive white girl Racism no longer exists; yet it does, just now it is more hidden. It is hidden, but not absent, it is there, in all the authority of classifications of every job application, reward, and university application. While that may be to “encourage equal quotas”, how is that any less racist. The lack of racism will be the day when skin colour and heritage are not a topic of conversation, or a rite of passage. It will be a day where colour is not seen as a sign of difference but an optional topic of interest.

So this article is, in very simple terms, based around the announcement of Zira as a judge for the PEN panel. The announcement, as seen below, points out not only the country of birth, but the education and working history of said judge:

“Born in rural Bangladesh, Zia Haider Rahman was educated at Balliol College, Oxford, and at Cambridge, Munich and Yale Universities. He has worked as an investment banker on Wall Street and as an international human rights lawyer.”

Now I remember reading that announcement and had one question, “why does it say where he was born?” To me Zia is qualified to be a judge on his incredible achievements. Those achievements are the fact that he went to some of world’s leading universities, that he has worked as a banker and then qualified as a human rights lawyer. Those are achievements, others could be that he has published influential novels and written articles. They are the achievements that we cared about.

Now if it had said that he was born into poverty in rural Bangladesh and went through the Bangladesh school system, receiving a scholarship for Oxford, then yes that would also be impressive. But it doesn’t say that, it says “Born in rural Bangladesh”. The first four words you read about this man are completely unnecessary but could come with many presumptions on his character, appearance and history. I do not know if he came from a poor village, or his family were wealthy land owners; I do not know if he went to a local school, had no schooling or was sent to boarding school internationally. I don’t even know if actually he was born in Bangladesh on a two week holiday to the country. I know nothing about him from that statement, the only things that statement could provide would be that he was born in a country, which by some would be deemed as less normal than the UK, US, or wherever the other judges were born.

Because, lets question this, would they bother putting those four words in for me if I had been in that judging panel? “Born in rural England, Blah studied at Cambridge….” The answer is no, but what presumptions would you make if they had? That I had a good schooling? That I grew up on a farm? That I spent hours ensuring that all my extra-curricular and academic activities would enable me to go to Cambridge, from around age 4?

Probably some of those and not others, because that is what that statement welcomes: presumptions and othering. Othering based on his heritage, an invitation to ignore or excuse his other achievements.

I thought that one day in my life time we would realise that othering people does not do us any favours. Judging someone on their skin colour, heritage, religion or country of birth is completely redundant. What does that really tell you about someone? Maybe that they celebrate some different holidays, maybe that they have been brought up with different customs or beliefs, maybe that they wear a different foundation: but at the end of the day every person on this Earth is a human being. We all breathe, eat (if lucky), love, hate, cry, smile, laugh, learn, and think. We are all inherently the same. The processes in our bodies are the same. So why do we need to place people as different? More than that, why do we need to publicise some differences and not others?

We have come to cross-roads in history. This year is a year where things can change. If you watched the ‘Queen at 90’, you will see that this woman has seen many disasters based on difference, and I wonder did she one day hope that those in her Commonwealth would not be judged on their differences, would not need to be labelled in a judging panel or on official forms? She has seen World War Two, an age when six million, yes six million, Jewish people were killed in the Holocaust. If we included their fellow camp inhabitants, for example those who were disabled or homosexual, we are bringing that figure to eleven million. That is a third of all the people living in Oceania at the moment.

That should have been a warning to the world to the effects of othering. But then the apartheid happened, also in the Queen’s lifetime. 46 years where Black and White people were separated on the basis of their skin colour. That is one difference which isn’t a sign of anything but a different amount of melanin in ones’ skin.

She is now living through two disasters based on difference. One the refugee crisis where 59.5 million people are currently displaced due to conflicts all over the world. 59.5 million people who are causing fear in receiving countries, because guess what: they are different. What is so different? The fact that they are running for their lives, or the fact they haven’t come from the same country, might not look the same, might have a different interesting history to talk about (like the different history of your colleagues or classmates)? Then we have ISIS: something else entirely, or is it the same? ISIS has managed to recruit over 30,000 foreigners. How? Many survivors reports say it is because they wanted to belong, they were being victimised for their religion at home… the reasons could be endless and sometimes not understood.

But can we justify this all with one thing: difference is dangerous?

Yes, that is a justification for all these crimes, right? difference. That difference is inherently dangerous? But let’s make that a bit more specific.

Difference is not dangerous, the othering of difference is dangerous.

At the end of the day every human being is the same. God made us all the same, hey he even sent us the best warning we could have asked for when Jesus Christ, aka our saviour, our Lord, in many peoples opinion the greatest human being to ever step on this Earth, was put to death, for guess what, being different.

There are three quotes from the bible which could maybe back this up:

When you next argue that you don’t want immigrants or refugees in your country:

“…God… made every nation of men to live all over the earth…” (Acts 17:24, 26).

When you next try to justify this fear, or the crimes of the past, or the labelling of people as Bangladeshi-British in every document, or you try to justify a child crying because they are being bullied for ginger hair and freckles, or try to explain to albino child why they are being hunted for their body parts (in some countries in the world), aka justify these because of difference:

“So God created man in His own image; He created him in the image of God; He created them male and female” (Genesis 1:27)

When you try to say that every human on this Earth does not deserve the same, remember that Jesus died in order to provide forgiveness and grace for every single living thing on this planet:

“Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe everything I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:19-20).

The only biological difference between us is male and female, and that is not a reason for discrimination either (another time...). The things that make us are our actions: like Zia’s incredible achievements. So let’s not justify othering any more, let’s not repeat the mistakes of our predecessors. Let’s not fear difference, but celebrate it, embrace it. Othering is dangerous, acceptance is key.

As Said said:

“Past and present inform each other, each implies the other and  ... each co-exists with the other.” (Said, 1994)

So let’s not use this as justification for racism or othering, but instead look at it as a reason that we can live differently today, without discrimination, and view each person’s past and experiences as an optional topic of interest, rather than a topic of judgement.

Thank you, and for those of you who would read that as a prayer, Amen. 

The people in our moments. The moments in our lives.

Life is made up of moments. Moments we laugh, cry, yawn, sleep and love. Moments we hate, envy, eat, pity and dream. Every moment of our life makes up the person we are at the end of it. When those lights finally go out you don’t know which memory will come to your mind. Will it be that boy you loved at the sweet age of 22? Will it be that child you so desperately wanted through years of IVF? Will it be that friend you had but lost contact with? Or will be a stranger: a nurse? A refugee you saw on the TV? A child you met on your travels? We don’t know, we will never know. That is the beauty of it.

Deaths and mourning bring out on reflection, not on only the life that has passed but our own. The life that we are still living. The moments that make it up.

I have been thinking about the people who make up those moments. I remember spending a night in a hostel in Manchester. I met a group of guys who were there to watch the match and they took pity on the girl there to do her dissertation research. I remember going to a bar, going clubbing and having a fantastic evening. But I don’t remember them and that makes me quite sad. For all the moments that made up that evening, it was them who made them. Total strangers who decided to extend a hand of kindness to a girl working away on a laptop in the common room on a Friday night. Yet my memory decided to put them out of my mind and replace them with people they deemed more important. What is more important than kindness? Maybe love.

I remember the few people that I have truly loved in my life. I remember the moments they made me smile, the moments of passion and the many, many moments I cried. I cried over the loss of them, the loss of making more of those moments and the loss of that time. But what about the people we only love for a moment. The people we kiss in a bar when we are 18 and it is the done thing to do. The people you dance with and swap numbers but never follow up. The people you spend a cold, lonely evening messaging on tinder but never meet up. For those moments they were the centre of our universe, so where are they now? What could they have been? Who could they have been?

Whenever anyone makes up a moment in our life, they enter the pool of candidates for the last person we remember. While I hope that will be the soul-mate sitting by my bedside, or the grandchild holding my hand, or my Mother who has always been there; it could be that boy I loved at 22? That child I held in my arms in Uganda? That person who taught me the true meaning of life without even sharing a name. We never know, so maybe no one should stay a stranger, or drift into becoming an acquaintance, what would the world be if everyone became a friend? 

Grief and Pills. Pills and Grief.

Pills.

This week has all been pills, pills, pills.

I wake up unable to walk and reach for the codeine.

I end up in the doctor's chairs and magnesium vitamins are making their way down my throat.

I wake up with a cracking headache and I reach for the paracetamol.

The next day it’s the cold and the lemsip capsules are jumping into my hand.

When we get to the final day and its all body aches, fevers, and swollen glands there’s not much left, so hey lets take them all together.

But what happens when there is no pill you can take to get rid of the pain. The pain inside. The pain of losing your inspiration. The pain of losing yourself. The pain of being hurt.

This week has been the worst week of my life. I might have fought off malaria this year. I might have had my kidneys start to fail. I might have been forced into cold turkey from my addictions. But no, this week was the worst.

Why. Well I never want to have to go in a broken circle again.

You break up with someone and the cuddle you want is your Grandfather.

Your Grandfather dies and the person you want to talk to breaks up with you.

It goes on and on. Again and again. No release until you realise you are just empty and upset. No cure for that if you want to keep your soul. But is your soul even there to keep. Not really.

When I look at why I am sitting here shivering grabbing that lemsip an hour too soon, I am not surprised my body just gave up. I would have if I was trying to run round in circles after my emotions.

There aren’t any left, no tears left to cry, no migraines left to start, no pills left to take.

Grief. That’s the illness, and memories are the only cure.

Memories of greatness, inspiration and strength. Strength you have to channel when that person steps out of your life, and just feel their comfort and their happiness of taking that next step. Because while this is one journey, there next one has just begun, hand-in-hand with the one they love. I love you Grandfather, thank you for making me dream and stand on my own two feet. 

1 year, 8 boys and an opened book.

I have kissed a lot of frogs in my past but this year I took it one step further. I dated a lot of frogs instead.

Now pre-university, I dated a uniboy. What did he teach me? That you want something when it is gone, that you can completely grow apart from someone and that he was actually a complete sweetheart and I was an idiot. Simples.

A boy asked me out at university and I learnt to trust your own gut and not your friends. My friend at the time, she actually wasn’t the nicest, said he was too short. She was wrong and I regretted not giving it a go a fair bit.

But it was this past year where I jumped head first past commitment issues into the dating pool. It was educational to say the least.

1)    Undefinableboy: I still don’t understand how or why we ever ended up starting, or what we even were. Drunken hook up after drunken hook up. Late night phone call after late night phone call. The real issue was that I developed feelings and he didn’t. What it taught me is that two people can have a completely different concept of exactly the same event. It also taught me that someone has to be mentally sound in an undefined relationship.

2)    Oldboy: He was a family friend: good start. We had hooked up before with amazing chemistry: very good start. He was 35: hold up there. This at first was not a problem but soon came the realisation that age can be an issue. In this case we are now friends and likely to one day hook up if neither of us have kids when I’m 35 and he is 50. Works well enough.

3)    Wildboy: Now he was sexy, attractive and adventurous. He was actually a breath of fresh air against graduates and the like. He had a PhD, he had been in a Thai prison, he had a tattoo on a certain bodypart. The problem is he was wild, exciting and only really suitable for the short-term. Not the husband material if you get what I mean.

4)    180flipboy: Oh wow. Now he was the long-term husband material boy, until he did a 180 degree shift on me. Queue: lets be in a relationship (me: only open), lets get you to spend 100s of pounds calling from Uganda, lets talk about how much I love you, how you are the best girl I have ever dated etc etc etc: bullshit. So he broke up with me while I was in a stormy taxi in Uganda. Chicken squawking one side, baby screaming on the other, me with tears pouring down my cheeks in the middle. It was not the best moment. It got even worse when he broke up with his new girlfriend and came crawling back a sex-obsessed arse hole (queue majorly off-putting for most girls out there, majorly majorly off-putting for Christian girls out there).

5)    Then came Charityboy. Tall, dark, handsome and now married. He was, for both of us, the most confusing element of relationships. He inspired me, his passion for charity was sexy as hell and I felt like I was drawn to him whenever I saw him. When I found out about the girlfriend that all came shattering down and I guess it was his charity work and what he taught me about it that made me really fall for him. So that taught me that you have to decipher what makes you mad about someone – them or what they do.

6)    Lovedhimsomuchboy. It actually hurts to type his name. He was the first boy I loved, the first to break my heart, but worst of all the first to make me completely change all my spots. He had a girlfriend. It was a one-time thing and then a month later erupted. He would say he loved me so much, he’d do anything for me in the world. The moment I left the country he went straight back to her and my phone came full of death threats and declarations that I was mad and imagined the whole thing. So what did that teach me. Love is not nice, simple or understandable. It is painful, it is mean and it hurts like hell when it is yanked away from you, but it is still worth every minute (bar becoming the other woman skank).

7)    FWBboy was an amazing discovery to add to the list. He became a good friend beyond anything. He was there when I needed him and actually made me feel worth more than a hole. So I can just keep it simple. Sometimes you will get on with someone really well. Sometimes that same person is ok to kiss, to hug, to cuddle, to do many things. But maybe that person isn’t relationship material. I don’t know if that is timing, not being emotionally available or just life, but all I know is he was exactly what I needed at that precise moment, and I am so grateful for his existence in my life.

8)    Unexpectedboy. One night with a friend and we swung open an unwritten book. We will have to see what happens with this one, but I guess surprises come and go.

Now this chorus of boys might leave something to be answered. Where now? I have two possible options. The sensible choice and the not so sensible choice, as well as various of the above reemerging. But one thing can be said for certain – I have learnt a lot this year. A hell of a lot, about myself, about men and about dating. 

I now want a relationship (I think) – casual and open didn’t do it for me in the end (tonight anyway). I now want to be respected, to be loved, to be adored (definitely). I now want to have someone texting me at night, to be holding my hand during the day . But most of all I now have loved for the first time, fell for a friend for the first time, and well yeh there were a lot of firsts.

So what has this got to do with God and Christianity. Well because God gave me what I have been asking for. I prayed to be loved and I was, but beyond that he gave me more than I could have ever dreamed. He allowed me to experience, learn and mess up by myself - just like a Father would. So thank you God. 

** A certain friend has been left out of this list because his book is opened, closed and remains completely unanswered. I hope one day to decipher what and who he will become in my life. Right now he is something very special with his own category personalised just for him, and that is someone I am very grateful for. 

(Trigger warning) Gender stereotypes, social rape and the He4She campaign

No person deserves to be punished against a gender stereotype. No child deserves to be hit for not conforming to a life of blue or pink. No woman deserves to be raped because she is a lesbian. No man deserves to be disfigured because he is gay. No celebrity deserves to be hounded by paparazzi because he is transgender.

God created each and every one of us in our special way. Each and every person is different. Yes, there is a reason behind different sexes - sexual reproduction. But sex is not gender, far from it. 


Gender is the social norm which surrounds the accepted behaviours and in turn hierarchy which exists in our and many other societies. That's it - a social norm.


I am not talking sex. Sex is the biological differences between men and women. Yes a woman can bear a child, feed a baby, has different hormones. Men grow beards, muscles, broader shoulders. In turn these biological differences come to play a large role in the gendered norms we have constructed.


The woman as a mother and the father as a protector. But these social norms were not constructed to be a level of comparison, a level which if you fail to reach it you will be punished. They were invented to allow our society to exist, to allow our population to grow, to ensure that the world continues to have enough people on it to survive. 

We are now at a level where our world has many people of different shapes and sizes to survive. We even live in a world where there are robots and computers which are able to do many of the tasks which humans used to be able to complete. 

These machines are the reason that many women can now go to work. Before the washing machine, the dishwasher, the electric iron - ie before the 1950s - the western house wife was a figure for a reason. She relied on her domestic prowess and her beauty to find a husband who could support her and her children. That was part of the package, that was part of the social hierarchy. 

But around the world, right now, people do not have washing machines or electric irons. Some people don't have fridges, or electricity at all. In these places many women look after a home, raise the children, and well work. They work to have independence, to send their children to school, to eat, to survive.

But all over the world there is still a hierarchy between men and women, a gender stereotype, a social norm. 

This is both ways. One of my greatest annoyances is when you hear of young men committing suicide because they do not reach up to the epitome of masculinity. All men deserve to be able to cry. They too have emotions. When you hear of men taking too many steroids to live up to the ideal of masculine muscle, the triangle. When you hear of a man abusing a woman, or hurting someone or something, to show he is a 'real man'. 


In the same way I have come to believe that one of many reasons behind the rape culture in the UK is the worrying trend of 'us' and 'them' which has become part of the feminist discourse. The way that masculinities are challenged and men are painted as an enemy. This backlash has as much to blame on women, as it does to do on men. It is not to blame on a particular grouping of us and them, but a total social hierarchy. 

In ways I believe in it is the ability to remove oneself from their own body. Many rapists, social rapists should we call them, the ones that get drunk at university and force themselves on a girl when she says no; or the husbands that believe that having sex with their wife is a right. Many of these social rapists would not accept that they are rapists. If you asked one of these men if he was willing to ruin a woman's life by forcing her to have sex with him against her will, he would probably say no. Yet he has done it anyway. 

Rape is a very, very common problem in the UK, and all over the world. But why is this? Why is it no longer those of criminal mind that believe they have power over another human being? That is what rape is often associated with: power play. 

I am not saying that rape is at all one way either. Men get raped, by men, or by women. Women get raped, by men, or other women. So why is there a backlash where sexual gratification against another's will is a common theme in many young people's lives? Because it is - however much we, society and the government, try to ignore it. 

Who can blame us? How does one sit there and admit that society has created, and maybe it always has, people who will force themselves upon others whatever the consequence?

For a rapist, a rape can last a few minuites, a few hours. They can walk away, gratified. For a victim it can take a lifetime. 

I have many theories to as why rape is so common, but one, which might be truly controversial is that rape is a backlash against gender stereotypes and those gender stereotypes becoming challenged by societal development. 

Now I don't know if this is true but could rape by a man over a woman or another man be a way to prove ones masculinity, if a man feels that it is being diminished by the feminist movement or by women beating him at work for example? Is rape of a man, or another woman, by a woman, due to a woman needing to feel power, to show that she is able to live up to this new position? Even though a house wife, raising a family, is in no way a lower position than a career. 

What it can show is a lack of social confidence which is becoming widespread. I am sure that many people would accept that rape and respect for other human beings, don't go hand in hand with happiness, confidence and love for other beings. What is to stop rape progressing to crimes which are still uncommon (in a way), like murder?

This is why I believe that the new He4She campaign is important. It is essential that we break down any us and them in the fight for gender equality and also the fight against abuse and rape. It is essential to acknowledge that men are raped, men are victimised. It is essential to not label women as the victims and men as the persecutors. It is essential to establish a support network for all victims. It is essential to provide an educational system which teaches rights, responsibilities and respect for every person on this planet. It is essential to stop a cycle in which people need to show power and supremacy by hurting, punishing and in turn psychologically murdering others. 

In time I want to join this movement. I want to found my own movement to introduce these classes and this love and respect to children all over the planet. Boys4Girls and Girls4Boys if you will. There was a reason for gender stereotypes - that cannot be denied - and there still is - but that was not to label us and them, but to work in cohesion, together, for a greater good, a greater world, a greater, and loving, society. That need has not gone, in ways it is more important than ever. 

I got my heart broken and learnt about God

It might sound odd to say that I have learnt more about being a Christian in the past few weeks than I thought possible. That isn’t because I have read the bible – to be perfectly honest I haven’t – and it isn’t because I have prayed a lot – I also haven’t. But it’s because for the first time I have had time to fall for someone, got my heart broken and let myself feel it.

That might sound ridiculous but I think I am the type of person who just turns emotion off and builds up walls, but this gap year was partly to allow myself time to actually feel. Feel all those things that I didn’t think I have had time for and boy does it hurt.

Heartbreak is the most agonising thing I could have imagined. It is worse than a dislocated shoulder, a dislocated knee, concussion; it is something that actually physically, emotionally and mentally tears you apart. You feel like you are going to cry at any moment. Just break into a million pieces. Heartbreak is not something I ever really want to experience again, but in a way I do.

So what has having my heart broken taught me about God? This. The heart is the most powerful force in our bodies. Yes our brains can think, but you can think and plan with no success if you have no passion for it. Your heart allows you to feel, love and actually have the power to do something. Women and men have been known to lift cars for the love of a child. That is no small amount of power.

Therefore why do people think that they can quote bible verses, psalms and philosophers and that will ‘convert’ people? That will show they are the ‘best’ Christian? Yes the bible is an amazing resource and one which teaches you so much about God. But those stories you read, they are done by a living, breathing person whose heart beat. Their heart beat just like you and me. The Pharisees used verses, they used rules and they used logic, but the people celebrated in the bible – the disciples, the prostitutes, the people brought back from being blind/dead/lame. They believed and trusted in their heart. Surely that is meant to be telling us something.

The other night I was walking home from a night out. It was cold, it was pitch black and it had been a very long day. I was in tears and feeling pretty shitty about everything. I had hurt a friend, hurt myself and gone against everything I believe in. So in this rather depressed state, I was also scared. It was dark, cold and deserted. I just said “God help me”. Suddenly I didn’t feel cold, I didn’t feel alone and it didn’t seem so dark. I felt like someone was hugging me. Whether that sounds ridiculous to you is fine, but at that moment there was no part of me that had followed God’s rules. No part of me which had any bible verse to quote at him. The only thing left for him was my heart and it wasn’t a happy one.

So what I have learnt about God recently is that your heart is what he wants.  Your heart is the most powerful part of your body, it is the organ that makes stuff happens. It is the organ which can cause physical pain. So if you are a Christian who sits there quoting verses and judging your neighbour, fine, well done on knowing the bible and trusting in the word. But do you really feel it, really love the God so much that your body radiates it, do you really love that neighbour? Not because you are told to love them, not because you want to “save their soul” or change them so “they don’t go to hell”. Do you love them for who they are, love them because your heart loves them not your brain or your religious scales, love them like Jesus would love them? Because at the end of the day that is your aim. Not ticking off the Christian to do list but to be like him, to love like him.