A snapshot of the UK today?

The Parable of the Cold Island 2022

 

 

 The Parable of the Cold Island

Update: 2022

It has been four years since this parable was first published back in 2018. Ask yourself this question - why is it that for God and man it is almost always a case of 'Maybe next year?'. One day I will not keep having to publish this.

This is probably the most important parable that I will ever write. It is also the one I have worked on for the longest period of time. The central metaphor will perhaps give the appearance of being trite, schmaltzy or twee. That was not my intention. I chose this metaphor as I still feel it is the most appropriate for the subject. It is not intended to be unnecessarily didactic in tone, but the nature of parables is to send a spiritual message.

Anyone who tells parables has to decide whether they will explain them or not. In this case I'm trusting in your intelligence and imagination.

'Let those who have ears to hear, let them hear...'





There was once a good king, a king like the sun, who ruled over a cold island with three peculiar children. It was winter and they say that winter is the end of the story of the seasons. But it depends on when you start the story.

Some people hated the royal family, but that was because they tended to get a bad press. Most of the people thought the king was harsh. He always seemed to be on some long journey and his absence caused many of the people to doubt that he even existed. After all, he was never on TV or the internet.

From a distance, he often seemed negligent or downright cruel, if it is possible to be both at once. He did not do terrible things, but he allowed them and would not explain why.

Two of the royal children were as disobedient as vultures. But the third child was as faithful as a robin, refusing to fly away when the winter sun grew austere. Her kindness was all the more remarkable because she was unable to walk. She was as loyal as frost clinging to a car window (for which the people also cursed the king in the mornings).

There hadn’t been a real Christmas on that island for over a hundred years. Although there had been some imitations of it. No-one even knew what Christmas was like anymore. Those who had heard of it either thought it brutal and regressive (following a highly popular Netflix series about what Christmas may be like and a series of stereotypes which were expressed in the arts and media about the character of those who might like Christmas) ... Or else they thought it was yet another money-making scheme, heavy on the merchandise and manipulation.

But the faithful robin-child, after reading of true Christmas, asked her father if they could celebrate too… as the people in far-off places were said to do. She had only read stories of Christmas and it was because she had lost a friend in one of the past winter months that she found her courage.

She entered the throne room in her wheelchair and the king looked sadly at his cold iron sceptre, like a man haunted by ghosts which only he knew about.

"We need Christmas father. Things are getting worse on the island," said the robin-child.

"The island is sick," replied the king.

"Then there is hope of healing. You have healing in your power."

"What do you think Christmas should be like anyway?" the king asked, "Like water? Like the sea's tide turning? Like rain after a drought? Like a river flowing?"

"I don't know."

"Or like the earth? Like an earthquake and a shaking, or a kind of sifting of the good and bad?"

"No not that, Christmas should be for everyone and that sounds destructive."

"Or like the air? Like a wind blowing across the land? Like a change in the atmosphere?"

"I don't know."

"Or like fire? Like tongues of flame? Like a wildfire?"

"I simply think it should be like a new, better season. Like Christmas in the old stories."


But the king went on to tell his daughter yet again that if his children and people continued to misbehave, they would never see Christmas. It was within his power to make the winter months warmer and lighter since kings and queens still hold great power. But it was catch 22 – without the comfort of Christmas, people found it hard to behave, but if they did not behave, the king would not give them Christmas. The king's conditions felt very patronising and simplistic.

It had become increasingly dark and cold in those winter months in so many ways. And the dark and cold had soaked into the hearts of the people, so that even the streets saw puddles of blood. The blood had a voice, but by this time only the king could seem to hear it. Nobody cared about all kinds of roses crushed underfoot. Gentleness had emigrated. It was as if the island was under a curse.

At the start of December, the king sat on his throne and wondered whether he should allow his island child her peculiar request. He was undecided, since two of his children were so naughty (they were always fighting and rarely did what he asked). When he told them to love, they hated. When he told them to forgive, they held grudges. When he told them to not be too proud and condescending towards the people, they simply looked down their noses at the less privileged. It had got so bad that the people were cursing the royal family because of the actions of the princes. “The royal family are judgmental bigots!” the people would sing. Or else, “The king is in the altogether, he’s altogether not there!” And blood on the streets didn’t help. The people would take strange, dangerous potions and dance wildly into the night or else treat each other as badly as the princes treated them.

The king wondered whether he should simply give a present to his daughter and ignore the others. But then he considered that Christmas should be for everyone and an exclusive Christmas had never happened before. But why Christmas on his island alone? There was the Commonwealth, and the people there could be said to be worthier? One last worldwide Christmas for everyone (even though that had never happened before). What had happened before can happen again, for good or for evil. He had told all his children to behave and they had largely ignored him. What should a good father do? He, did, after all, have his enemies and ghosts. And the land had enough problems already, ready to break and divide for the sake of a freedom which was only hoped in.

One of the naughty children didn’t believe Christmas was healthy, he thought it probably meant, a pair of socks as a present, a lot of disappointment and probably a lot of grief. He didn't like anything about Christmas. The other thought it was unlikely to happen again before the end of the world. He simply thought there would never be a genuine Christmas again. But the faithful robin child would read old stories and she believed that even if they were only to have one last Christmas it would be a good thing for everyone on the cold island. It would help them to prepare for the coldest and darkest of days. She too loved the people of the island.

But the winter winds pummelled them all and the thunder made it seem as if the sky may fall at any moment. And the naughty children started to doubt that their father really was good – not because they wanted Christmas, but because he seemed to allow so many bad things and then said it was some kind of test. And never explained why. The tests were always the same anyway, they were either endurance tests or self-control tests, but the king, because of his ghosts, considered that an unfair criticism. Kings can do that and you can't tell them that they are wrong.

The king had set out conditions for there to be a Christmas. He had said that if his children talked to him, keeping their conversations secret, and if they were well-behaved and if they trusted in him, he would give them Christmas once again and the Christmas would be both a relief and a healing for them all. Hearts would turn warm and there would be more light, like the light of a baby in a manger. But the trouble was that he had three children and only one of them was behaving. The majority were not. In a sense, it was because of the naughty children that the whole island did not get Christmas, especially the fault of the naughtiest leading prince who had been given more than the others and who was relatively healthy.

So, the king faced a quandary – he had promised that he would order Christmas throughout the land if all his children behaved. But how could they behave when all was cold and austere and there was no Christmas? The robin princess had talked to him on countless occasions about this, about how Christmas would be good for both him and the people, about how it would make things better, about how a good father should not deny the request of an obedient daughter simply because others were not so obedient. About how Christmas itself would swing the hearts and souls of people onto his side. About how, while he delayed, the people and the children suffered together. About how he had also promised to grant any request made persistently. About what kind of good father would deny Christmas to his children anyway? About how he wanted free will love from the people and he would get that if he gifted Christmas.

But the king simply looked at his cold iron sceptre, shrugged and said that unless his people and his children talked to him, behaved, and trusted in him, he couldn’t send Christmas.

“But you also once said nothing is impossible for you,” said the robin princess.

“These are the conditions,” said the father with a stern face that did not suit him.

“But you once said that even a bad judge would rule in favour of a petitioner if they persisted, and I have pestered you about this for years.”

“These are the conditions,” said the king, his face like flint (which did not suit one whose glory was supposed to be greater than the sun).

“But how can the conditions ever be met on this island where the streets drink blood without conditions changing so that the conditions are more likely to be met?”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Why must you win every argument?" replied the Princess, "It isn’t endearing. People are suffering. What kind of good father would deny Christmas to their children? You told us that you love us.”


So here is the quandary, the mystery and here is the parable – that the good and kind king had seen how cold and dark his land had grown and truly understood the suffering of his people (having lived as one of them, in another land, a long time ago). Yet he denied them Christmas, saying it was the fault of his enemies, or of his children, or of his ghosts. Saying that conditions needed to be met, saying that his timing was perfect. And often saying nothing at all.

And still, the faithful robin princess and the people waited to see if a good King and Father would really delay Christmas on that cold, dark island for reasons known only to himself and his ghosts. And the robin princess, her heart broken because of the blood on the streets, knew that the only thing left to do was to keep on asking.

Free Halloween Short Story 2022: A Sermon of Life

 

A Sermon of Life

All they had were questions. And stories.

So Danny began his story while the sun was setting.

“I once heard a sermon when you dragged me to your church that time,” said Danny, the younger brother.

“I remember that,” replied Joe. “It was the only time I’ve persuaded you to go.”

“But I listened – can you remember the sermon?”

“Wasn’t it about saving grace?”

“Not from what I remember,” replied Danny. “The guy on the pulpit went off on one about how people will be made to watch their lives all over again in front of God and give an account for all their actions. He said there would be a life review. It was a bad sermon and that is why I haven’t been back to your church. It put me off.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember. It isn’t usually that bad. Our preacher tends to think that everything in life is inspiration for a sermon. He actually struggles to enjoy life because he is always looking for a sermon topic in whatever he does.”

Danny shrugged, not caring. “The preacher, what is the guy’s name anyway? Well, the preacher said that when people face the final judgement, which I’m not saying I believe will ever happen... he said that they would be forced to watch their lives all over again. How can he know that?”

“Are you going to tell a story?”

“Sure, but it’s all a bit scary... 

A man died and found himself in the throne room of your God. It was a huge palace and there was your great white throne, although goodness knows why it has to be a white throne and not a black ebony one... or a gold one. What is it made out of anyway? Ivory? Bone? Is that the so-called glory of God? The throne and your God shone like a... like a glow-in-the-dark sticker.

Anyway, this man died and found himself in your God’s throne room and he was suddenly told that he would have to relive his life in a kind of movie form, with him watching all the things that were done, in front of a whole crowd of saints and angels and... whathaveyou. I can tell you now that the man blushed knowing the kind of things they would be watching. He had read a little about life reviews, people talked about their lives flashing in front of their eyes in near-death experiences and here he was, at the judgement, being forced to watch the whole story of his life on some massive spiritual cinema screen in front of a lot of strangers. Perhaps the cost of the huge screen was raised through the tithes of the saints?”

“At least his family and friends weren’t there?”

“They had tickets for another performance. A small mercy? God told the man that he would need to simply watch the events of his life and that he would be asked questions afterwards. So, the life review began at his birth. Everyone was shown the man in graphic detail being born into the world. His baby cries filled the throne room. So far so good. This man was picked up by a doctor and the umbilical cord was cut and he was washed and placed at his mother’s breast. Tears filled the man’s eyes to see his mother looking so young. She had died when he was an adult and he had struggled so deeply with that. 

There was no sign of his mother now in that throne room. So, he continued to watch and it became obvious that this life review wasn’t going to be edited at all. In fact, it seemed as if he would have to live a life in the throne room watching the events of his life in a kind of parallel time! I mean, think about it... even if he didn't need to eat, drink or crap anymore, he was in for a long, long judgement.

The man appealed to God to fast forward and God sighed deeply and complied with the man’s request. The great white throne also happened to have a great white remote controller in an arm, through which God pressed a button and fast forwarded to the man as a toddler. It was just as well because otherwise the man and the rest of the audience were going to be very, very bored at a very banal life.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“No more ridiculous than some of your beliefs are, besides, I’m using your worldview, aren’t I? So, what are you complaining about? This man watched himself as a toddler, with both his parents. He watched himself holding the hands of his parents and being lifted by them and swung along as he walked. These were happy times for him and he couldn’t help smiling, although he did fear what would be edited out and what would be kept in. 

And that was the trouble. It seemed that God had an agenda and all of the good deeds which the man did, all of the small kindnesses were fast forwarded. No sooner was the man about to say a kind word or share a toy with a friend before God was on the fast forward button, only pressing pause to show him in some naughty childhood mood, being disobedient to his parents or being selfish. It was like a very bad version of the latest reality TV show in which all of the good parts of the man’s life were edited out. Soon he was at school and God seemed to take some freaky pleasure in showing the man as a boy being mean to some schoolmates. There was one time in particular where he bullied a smaller boy... and to drive his point home God even pressed pause when the guilty party threw his first punch. Another time he was torturing tadpoles with a magnifying glass. You like saying that children are sinful don't you, when your church isn't abusing them that is?'

'No Danny, I don't. They're just children.'

'Whatever. The man was made to watch it all and he would look at God’s face – a face which was furrowed with concern and disapproval and lots of head shaking. All the time... the shaking head of God. Things didn’t look good. But you keep saying that your God is merciful and mercifully he fast forwarded through the man’s bad habits and most of the embarrassing things he did. He was at least glad of that. He wasn’t so glad when God showed him breaking into a house. It was something he had done as a teenager and something he had never told anyone about. The man broke in and stole some jewellery and sold it. And God shook his head sadly. And the man started to worry about other secret things which he had done in his life. There had been no murders, no genocides, but what was shown time and again was a kind of bad motivation behind so many of his deeds. He was shown in his first relationships, behaving selfishly. And he was shown being over-competitive in his career. And every time they were about to reach some point at which the man knew that he had done something kind or some good thing then God would press a button and the cinema screen would show some other scene. It was emotionally exhausting watching all this and the man began to feel the Saints and the angels looking at him with disapproval.

Also, watching his life all over again was taking such a long time and the man couldn't seem to get comfortable with the crowds all around him, gasping in horror at his many sins. 

There seemed to be one scene that God wanted to get to. It was just the one scene and God kept fast forwarding. He fast forwarded over the grief that the man expressed with the death of his parents. He fast forwarded over the many petitions which the man signed and the many small acts of kindness he made. He fast forwarded even over the major things that the man felt sure he would linger on. He seemed to be wanting to get to one particular place.

And then the man cringed as he realized what was about to happen. God found the place in the film of his life where he had been invited to a church service in one of the more charismatic evangelical churches. And the man was once again made to sit through a sermon which was all about whether they were willing to accept Jesus as their Lord and Saviour and that this would mean that they would live forever. And in the film in the throne room of God they all watched as the preacher asked the congregation on the TV screen if they would bow their heads and pray.

The preacher said: ‘All you have to do is to say sorry to God, which is to repent, to thank him for what he has done and to ask him to come into your life. God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.’

And the spiritual big brother camera zoomed in on the man who was playing the latest open world role playing game on his mobile. And then the preacher asked if anyone would like to raise their hand to show that they wanted to become a Christian. And the man swore silently because he lost a boss fight and was barely listening to the preacher. And all of the throne room, including the 12 disciples, gasped at him for that. And God shook his head and pressed stop on the movie of his life so that he wasn’t even able to watch the significant events which had occurred after that one so called defining moment. And then your God looked straight at the man with a sad, slightly annoyed look.

‘Why did you do that in your defining moment?’ asked God. ‘Why did you reject me? I am a great King.’

And the man was forced to tell the truth, ‘Because I had a good percentage score in the game and I wanted to share it with my friends on Facebook...’

And all the throne room gasped yet again. And God shook his head and said:

‘You betrayed my son because you loved a game more than you loved me and that was symbolic of everything in your life - ever.’

'It wasn't!' shouted the man, 'What about all the good I did?! There was this time when I once helped a..."

'Enough!'

And then your God pressed a button on the other arm of his great white throne and an angel appeared and dragged the man to a huge pit which had appeared and the man fell, and fell, and fell... to your ridiculous hell. 

Then the next man walked in. The end."

“Who’s the moralist now?” asked Joe.

“Not at all, I’m merely highlighting how biased and unfair the whole system you ascribe to actually is.”

“No, that would never happen.”

“The preacher at your church said that was going to happen.”

Joe sniffed and closed his eyes. “Yes, Danny he did say that. But you're mocking a made-up God. He's not like that.”

“A victimless crime. Anyway, the preacher doesn’t know for sure. No-one really knows what will happen. And I never rubbished your God, I rubbished that crap sermon.”

Joe gave his brother the last word as night deepened, too tired to argue. 

Suddenly, thirteen bats began to flutter around them both, quickly dancing their circular song in what remained of the dusk light... returning again and again to the same places. Joe was spellbound. One of the bats was shining. Just like a glow-in-the-dark sticker.

Danny smiled, picked up his mobile and started to play the latest open world role playing game.

There was a storm coming but it was not judgement day yet.

Why betrayal is universal....

Patient readers, I may regret this one again...

I may have responded to a Facebook group post in the following way...

The casual meme I was responding to was about how 'All Christians betray God in little ways'. Which I am no doubt doing as I write...

Here's what I wrote back... it still being a free-ish country...

"I do think I betray him in small ways. But there are often mitigating circumstances.

(I continued to write...) 

But it's like Jesus is saying to me, 'Oh, you didn't mention to this or that person that you are a Christian.' Or, 'You went to work today and you didn't share the gospel with anyone. Not even your colleagues. That's a little betrayal to me, you know?'

And I'm like, 'Hold on God. If I were to try to share the gospel at work, not only is it unprofessional, but I would likely lose my job, which happens to be a part-time, temporary, insecure, zero-hour contract. And if we really want to talk about betrayal, Lord - what of your apparent negligence in so many of the bizarre and often painful 'life experiences' I, and others, regularly experience? Huh? Huh? So, please do not come at me with this accusation of betrayal unless you want me to betray you in a far more real and imminent way. Okay?'

At this point the Lord usually seems to go a bit quiet and seems to say things like, 'Stop putting words into my mouth. You're making me look bad.'

Or seems to say, 'I never said any of this stuff. Quit complaining and count your blessings. I am a great King.'

Or else... simply the silent treatment. And when I say that the silent treatment is, in fact, a form of manipulation, the Lord appears to shake his head invisibly. Except I wouldn't know, would I? Being as I've just betrayed him in a tiny way for the umpteenth time. Like now.

Being as he probably said none of these things, or at least would deny it all, I may, or may not, respond, 'Whatever God. But I could have actually properly betrayed you and left Christianity by now you know? So count your own blessings in Heaven, where you are probably very comfortable while I'm stuck here in need.'

And we go our separate ways once again.

Then, if I dare to tell any Christians any of this 'world of Nick' stuff, they just shake their heads and praise the Lord because they know he butters their bread and I don't. 'Keep your eyes on Jesus,' they might say (if they are feeling kind). And I'm going, 'He's INVISIBLE!'

Then they stare knowingly into the sky and say something profound and disarming like, 'But is he invisible to the eyes of your heart?' and I feel guilty once again for even expressing anything ever and for the little betrayals I'm possibly guilty of.

A few hours later I come back to them and say, 'Hold on. My heart hasn't got eyes has it?'

But they've gone by this time and are giving me the silent treatment and saying that it is a perfectly valid way to deal with people and not manipulating others at all, even though I know for a fact that there is a Wiki page on how it is all psychological manipulation of the worst kind in any relationship. But if God does it, it must be okay mustn't it? And not like a betrayal at all? (even though it so obviously is).

And I'm, like, 'From here on, I am going to find EVERY SINGLE PERSON people are giving the silent treatment to and talk to them.''


Patient reader, I will update you if anyone likes my reply...

I've released my first audiobook..

I've released an audiobook.


I've updating my short experimental ebook, 'The Owl Flies at Night' and had it auto narrated. It's an audiobook bargain at £1. 

This is not the annual free Halloween story but it is a fictional modern ghost story, using an unreliable narrator in the tradition of Poe's 'The Tell-Tale Heart'.

Available on Google Play/Books.

This is the trailer I made...

And here is the Google link: The Owl Flies at Night audiobook

Why I write Halloween short stories...

I'm just putting the finishing touches to this year's Halloween story which is called 'A Sermon of Life' and which will appear here on October 31st.

Sometimes I get a little flak for these annual short stories. So I wanted to make my defence, or apologetics, here to combat the worst of the criticism...

FAQ

"Why are you celebrating Halloween? Isn't it a celebration of all things evil? There is enough evil in the world already."

I love Halloween. I've always liked it and to me it is not so much a celebration of evil as an attempt to enjoy all things scary. Although there are excesses in society - it can be fun. I really look forward to writing my Halloween story every year. I genuinely enjoy doing it. It's not even as if I write gory stuff - a lot of it is traditional ghost story, often with a mix of spirituality in there.

"Well, where is the spirituality? As far as I can see, you are just writing ugly things. Why not write beautiful things?"

I do, sometimes, write more aesthetically pleasing things, but remember, these are supposed to be scary adult ghost stories. The spirituality is mostly drawing from the Bible and from other aspects of Christianity. As far as I can see, the Bible and this faith are an absolute gold-mine for scary and sometimes even horrific things. Few people say that the Bible is an ugly book because it mentions hell, demons and suchlike. I'm contributing back to the people for free. It's an act of service.

"You are totally obsessed with the topics of the afterlife and the last judgment. Change the record. Sing a new song."

Mainly because there is a fear which accompanies thoughts about the final judgment and life after death. In a way, the writing is also a form of therapy, or simply asking the question 'What if'?

"In all your writing you are telling rather than showing and I've lost count how many times you've used an intrusive narrator. If you want your work to be read then you have to obey the writing rules. Also, you write caricatures, characters which have no depth. No-one is totally good or totally evil. It's just not realistic!"

Guilty as charged. Can I carry on writing now?



Here is the trailer for this year's story. If you want to ask any questions not covered here, please feel free to ask in the comments...

Why does God allow suffering? Is it because there is no good God?

This is the one question which is asked in any discussion about God and I have one answer...

I don't know.

This is to do with the question of suffering which cannot be adequately answered by any human being. This is to do with why God, should he be good, chooses to allow some things to happen. Put it this way - neither Einstein nor any of the greatest philosophers or theologians have been able to answer this question, so why do you think some random blog from some obscure writer will? This also means that you don't know either.

I'm not sure it is possible to prepare for physical or mental suffering beyond making sure there is access to pain relief. It is also hard to alleviate suffering with words alone.

God can defend himself on this one. It 'appears' as if God has made a choice not to heal, or not to answer certain prayers for now. This does not mean it will be the case for eternity. It has to be enough to recognise that the pain and suffering is not caused by God, but only allowed by him for now. There is literally little other choice for those suffering. But the question is still valid and legitimate.

Because there is still a choice there made by God, even in the allowing. I believe that he holds the responsibility and accountability for this decision. That means that neither you nor I need to defend his honour on this question.

Neither the Book of Job nor the rest of the Bible answers this question and Job deals with it explicitly. The answer to Job is that he should look to nature and the awesomeness of God's creation and God's greater might above all that. However, Job (and the reader) is not actually given an answer. The only answer Job gets is a future compensation for all the suffering he has experienced. And pain relief of a kind, in the form of God's presence.

The best that could be said is that Christ suffered too and so lived his life under that same tyranny of suffering, and the shadow of death. If you think about it, it would be very hard for a God who never suffered to hold any kind of authority or credibility on this question if he had not lived as a human being.

So you and I can make what feels like a great response to the question of suffering - one which maybe defends God's honour and which seems to answer the question... or one which does not. There should be no value judgement in that. Even if that answer is: 'There is no rhyme or reason to it and it happens because he doesn't exist. There is no good God'. But this is also an answer which is similarly unsatisfying for many.

The next time you and I are suffering (which will happen, even if it is not happening now), all these answers (maybe even this one) will be blown away like chaff - because when you suffer, you don't necessarily want an answer, you want the pain to go away and you want coping strategies if you have to endure (which is usually the case).

The individual who suffers may say some outrageous things and that's okay, because suffering and pressure does not cause a person's true colours to come out. True colours only come out when a person is in relative ease and luxury. And since when was saying something seemingly odd or outrageous indicative of a person's value as a human being? True colours only come out when you are pain-free and in a season of happiness.

So, why, if God is good, does he allow suffering?
I do not know the answer to this question. 

The human condition is such that we are largely compelled to ask it and live without adequate answers.

Get the pain relief in and make it accessible to all.

Think happy thoughts.