I was not always a Christian

I was born in Europe, in a so-called Christian country, into a-so called Christian family and to parents who had me christened into the so-called wider Christian faith. I was given two Godmothers who promised to ensure that I was brought up in a Christian way, but I do not remember meeting either of them, though there are vague recollections of some friend of my grandmother, a godly woman, who may have been one of them. I was taught godly principles, carried forward through the generations, which encouraged honesty, loving attitudes, patience, gentleness, respect and obedience. I attended school where there was a daily morning assembly, with the “Lord’s Prayer” being recited fervently in unison with all the pupils of all ages. Sunday School was also a regular outing when several of us children from the street where we lived walked along in demure groups to attend classes at the Anglican Church of St Michael and All Angels.

Oh, the joys of those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or stand around with sinners, or join in with scoffers. 

TLB

I guess that would include me!

I seem to have learnt to be a people pleaser while still quite young, though the finer rudiments came with age and experience. The trouble with being shy, with little or no ability to shine in any prowess, and little more than the rudiments of social graces, (remember your p’s and q’s!) I was not destined to become a sought after friend or leader of any intimate group. If included, it was merely because I was there, not because I had been invited, entreated, or encouraged in any way.  Once there, I played my part and agreed with whatever someone suggested as the next game to be played. With a handicapped sister who was seldom included in the games, it was often left to me to look after her interests rather than to join with others. I well remember her tears and frustrations when other children failed to show compassion, tact or even recognition when she stood at the gate of our driveway, hoping to be spoken to without jeers or cruelty.

Christian? Well, I am sure my mother would have considered herself  a Christian, even though she had refused to go to any Church except to Christenings, weddings and funerals, since my sister’s birth. “How could a “merciful” God be so mean as to let her baby be handicapped?” was her attitude after June’s diagnosis of cerebral palsy. In those days the term was “spastic” and it was an uphill battle for all concerned as for the first 18months of her life, June cried almost incessantly. Doctors were consulted, hospitals did tests, but only when a Chiropractor was called in was there any relief. He discovered that June’s spine was twisted, and without his help, she would no doubt have been hunch backed as well as unable to walk except with a rolling gait and eventually walking sticks to help her balance. Once manipulated there was some ease from her crying though frustration often led to understandable bouts of weeping as she sought solace for her disability. It was hard for her to understand why I could walk and run and she could not. Our mother was unable to come to terms with all of the concomitant aspects of the problem and though our father was the epitome of patience,  support and encouragement he was unable to help her see any comfort or good in what she saw as the cross we had to bear. In her mind religion was worthless and senseless so she would not adhere to its rules. That said, one could not fault her in her faithfulness to carry her burden. In fact she rather tended to over-compensate in her attempts and determination to keep June content.  There was perhaps some self blame aspect to her attitude, for it was said that some trauma, or injury had occurred just before, during, or immediately after June’s birth, which left room for doubt as to whether “if” such and such had been done, the outcome may have been different.   

Mum taught us so much good, and lived such a selfless life, but did not learn one of the tenets of my faith that could have helped her in bearing her burden.

Cast all your anxiety on Him (Jesus) because He cares for you                                                   1 Peter 5:7

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Matthew 11:28-30

If only she had sought the Truth for herself, the truth could have set her free, and years of suffering prevented.

What was the reasoning, I wonder, when she and Dad went off to London to visit a man called Harry Edwards? I don’t know how old I was but I remember the excitement of their going in the early morning hours, to catch a train, while I stayed behind with our Grandmother, lovingly known as Gaga in those days, my early rendering of “Grandma” and maintained for many years. In whom was their faith placed? Harry Edwards was a Faith Healer, and they must have departed with such high hopes but was their hope placed in God, whom Mum doubted, or in the man, and his faith, in what or whom?

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith ----                                 Hebrews 12:2

They returned with much sadness, exhausted and disappointed, but in whom were they disappointed? Themselves for believing blindly and placing their trust in a man? Or in the man because his faith had not been strong enough? Or had he deceived  them by proclaiming faith as his ability? Were they again disappointed in God, that He had not heeded their hopes and dreams? Had He let them down because He did not care, or hear, or was He just not there?

June was a tired and irritable little girl who had had a strange but adventurous day, and all she needed was rest and comfort. I pondered in my heart, but had no direction in which to place my questions.