Christine
Christine is in England on a working holiday, gathering interviews and plenty of material for her homeschooling podcast: youtube.com/channel/UCEO
Last week we visited St Albans, originally the Roman city of Verulamium. Alban became a Christian after sheltering a priest who was fleeing persecution. He was put to death around 300 AD for refusing to renounce his faith and was buried on the hillside. St Albans Cathedral is the oldest place of continuous Christian worship and pilgrimage in Britain.
The church in our town, St Mary’s, was founded 800 years ago. For someone coming from a young country, this gives me pause for thought. When I look at the ancient church building I think of how Christians have had their differences, sometimes bickering and other times with violence, but have been coming together in worship for hundreds of years. I feel perspective gathering. Despite the many changes in the way we do church, God’s people are still here. It turns out the Spirit I thought showed up in the late 1980s for the charismatic renewal was there all along. There is something comforting about walking through the door of an ancient church, over the threshold where so many feet have trod that the great stones have gently worn away in a soft but noticeable curve. It is comforting because, no matter what the disruption, peace always returns. The same God who saw all and never left His people is with us still.
As I take in the current tragedies, it brings perspective and despite global turmoil, all will be well. I know this because this is the way it has always been. The perspective brings balance to what we see. There have always been wars and rumours of wars; this time we are in is not different or worse. Look to see what reassuringly repeats, year after year, season after season. In England just now, the seemingly never-ending daffodils nodding their dear, yellow bonnets, came out at the same time last year and one hundred years before that. They will be there next year, too. There’s a comforting certainty about that.
It’s not permission to wave off tragedy. All tragedy is heartbreaking especially when mankind has initiated it. I’m trying to come to terms with the balance that keeps us sane and the knowledge of the presence and peace of God no matter what the circumstances. We need to decide to look and listen at the good and beautiful else the painful and dreadful tip us into chaos, and that makes us more anxious and afraid than we need to be. Too much of either makes for an unstable state of mind and by extension, life.
We live through chaotic times but this, too, shall pass. It always has.
Easter is next week. The annual festival involves chocolate for most and the deeper truth of death, life and forgiveness for those who search for its original story. This also brings hope; out of chaos and another seemingly failed messiah, comes forgiveness, life and truth.
There’s a strengthening aspect to celebrating with traditional Easter rituals as they tend to create the reality that you and your family are part of a long, unbroken line of parents imparting their faith to their children.
There truly is nothing new under the sun. St Alban was martyred for refusing to give up his Christian faith. You don’t willingly go to your death, undoubtedly a particularly unpleasant one, without knowing why you believe. Second-hand faith or one based more on feelings is likely to crumble under less pressure than the threat of martyrdom.
There is much to learn from history if we will only take the time to think, learn and teach our children not only what, but why certain things happened. Walking around our town and driving through the countryside through village, town and city I feel like I am immersed in history wherever we go. I am living in history.
