The dreaded word

I had a discussion with some friends on Wednesday about many things but what sticks in my mind is the sheer horror that the term 'Christian' evokes. Hardly anyone admitted to ever using it as a term. One friend said she thinks Christian is a term attributed to us by other people. It is not, for us, anyway a way of referring to ourselves. Most of the people I know at Church, or involved there, would genuinely never use it, those that do would be in the minority. Among my friends it is not a way of referring to ourselves, even the Vicars wouldn't do so.

We established that there is a vast difference between following Christ's teachings, 'being a follower of Christ', or 'being a follower of The Way', or 'being in Christ' and being referred to as a Christian. But despite all this, some of us would put it on a form under 'Religion', because it is then generally understood that we are not following any other Religious system. As always with labels it is more effective in defining what we are not, than what we are. Speaking for myself, filling in a form is the only time I would use this term and this is because there is no room for lengthy sentences in those little boxes. I might put 'Anglican' though, because this gives an even clearer idea of what I am not.

The word 'Christian' is now popularly understood to be synonymous with brutal bigotry, hypocrisy and a general rejection of Christ's teachings to 'Love one another as ourselves'. It makes people cringe and flee. My worst nightmare is the person who announces their arrival with 'Hello I'm Johnny...and I'm a Christian', as though anyone were remotely interested, or worse still, the person who pronounces that 'because I'm a Christian I care about 'x, y or z', as though no one else is capable of any form of caring.

The term Christian has been hijacked by the loud-voiced Fundamentalists who peddle ignorant their ignorant, cruel creeds of discrimination and terror. Although clearly this is not new, because throughout history the loudest voices have been the ones we have heard. The Liberal Philanthropists, the transformative musicians, the architects and charity workers, the willing volunteers, the kind, the compassionate, the human have largely lost their claim to be Christian. They are not remembered as motivated by Christ's teachings in the way, for example the Crusaders are remembered for being motivated to kill by a mis-reading of Christ's teaching. We have had Christian Suffragettes, Christian Anti-Slavery campaigners, Christian hospital builders, Christian University establishers, Christian artists, Christian Sculptors, Christian Composers and Christian Reformers. The work Christian has largely been taken from these people who openly and proudly proclaimed themselves Christian and given to people whose view of the world narrows with time. The deep humanity and contribution to society that Christians have unarguably made along with our other Religious brothers and sisters eclipsed as it is by Conservative, prohibitive, inhibiting legalism is largely considered to be the result of secular rationalism.

My own religion in the media is presented as representing the things I most despise. There is good reason for this and it makes it very difficult to be proud of our label.

I would settle for being a Follower of The Way or In Chirst...but that makes me sound like a freak as well.

Off for a massage...

Banners

My lovely friend Pauline, also known as Aunty P, 'P' or Brown Owl, depending upon how you know her, did something wonderful yesterday. She organised a 'banner making' event in Church. There were young people and their Mums. No Dads unfortunately. The children were absorbed in the crafts but the Mums were equally drawn into the simple act of being creative. We don't do enough of these fun creative occasions. There were three banners being created. One banner that was being made was for the new area of the Church created so the children can have fun in a safe space. Another was a 'Welcome' banner. The other is an 'Allelluia Banner' which involves loads of decorated paper eggs created by various members of the Church as well as people who 'don't do Church'. It is an ancient tradition which Pauline has revived for us. The banner will be hidden for Lent and re-appear at Easter.

It was a lovely couple of hours. There were feather rainbows being made in all the colours of the rainbow, including indigo and orange and violet. There were coloured ribbons and buttons, strips of organza and linen. There were hands coated in poster paints of lilac, yellow, green and any other colour you care to mention. There was gummy glue sticking everything and everyone together. We were glittered, and beaded. There were animals for Noah's Ark, including a fish called 'Bob' (because fish go 'bob, bob, bob' when they are swimming. There was even a duck with a pearl necklace. Noah's Ark had a little purple glitter door. All the eggs had the children's names on them declaring their belonging in the community. These are the sort of occasions that organisations like Brownies and Churches have licence and opportunity to do, where others don't. We have the space, we have the legal status, the certificates to prove we are safe to ensure Child Protection. We have the time, the resources and the inclination. For me, it is at times like this that it all seems worth it, not in Church on Sunday mornings. I see God in the children and I see God at work in my friend Pauline, although she will never forgive me for saying so.

The children and their trusting little faces full of laughter and their stories speak to me powerfully about why I do this work. I heard about a fish called 'Brian' who died and had a Fish burial ceremony in the garden. There were other fish stories, brought on by the presence of the lilac-glitter encrusted 'Bob'. Some, less fortunate fish are unceremoniously flushed down the loo I'm afraid. One little girl, to her own embarrassment asked me 'what do you want to be when you grow up?'. Not knowing the answer, I said 'oh I think I will be a funeral director for fishes'. 'We are going to be comedians' two little girls said, 'we are going to stand here and amuse you.' I thought it seemed like a worthwhile cause and so did they. Hopefully our Government won't impose a 'target' for them to reach where they have to make us laugh ten times each so that we can quantify and justify the investment.

If as Religious people we forget that God is not contained to Church and if we forget Jesus' words of being 'like little children' in order to 'inherit the Kingdom of God' we lose sight of God altogether. Many of the Mums of these children and the children themselves would not normally step inside a Church. My friend who 'doesn't do Church either has brought them there. With them, these people who don't understand why we go to Church at all, God speaks to us of the enormous capacity for human thriving. I sense the love of God in their peaceful sense of the importance of living, laughing, dreaming, trusting, creating, dancing, singing, munching chocolate, friendship, love, telling stories, amusing and entertaining one another. For me this is what God is all about.

'I could have been really thin, if I didn't love food so much'.

Having lost a substantial amount of weight and breathing the words 'only half a stone to go' every Monday after a year of sensible eating I have realised why I never lose that last half a stone. Everytime I breathe those words I subsequently eat like a pig. No one needs to get a degree to work this out.

I have spent the weekend gorging on lemon meringue pie, chicken in cream sauce, cheese and biscuits, nuts, chocolate cheesecake, chocolates, hand-made luxury butter, home-made fruit tea cake and probably even worse. These are foods whose sole purpose is to make us fatter. They are designed to round our hips, increase our cup size, bloat our stomachs and make our legs rub together. How I can justify the complete bewilderment every Monday morning that 'I've put it all back on again and simply cannot understand it' is anyone's guess. I am starting to think that I am afraid of the substantial cost of replacing my substantial lingerie collection with a less substantial cup size. Either this or I have convinced myself that Mr B will stop loving me if I'm skinny. Fond as he undoubtedly is of my substantial nature. Or, more likely still, I won't know what to do without the anxiety of 'needing to lose that extra half a stone'. It is quite ridiculous. I am intent upon locking myself into this discontentment.

I don't think I really am unhappy enough with my body. This is practically a crime these days. We are supposed to have 'issues with our body image'. We are also supposed to have a 'target'. This target consists of being something we are not. Then we are supposed to move the target even further away. I wasn't prepared to be happy with an easier more achievable target, namely the one I've already reached, and I can't be bothered to set another one. Originally I set myself a target, yet another stone away from this one. But it never appeared on the horizon and now I have made friends with my hips, am enjoying my over-enthusiastic breasts and don't particularly mind having a bit of a wiggle. Climbing the stairs is no longer hard work because I now walk for a couple of miles each day and this makes me feel self-righteous enough. It never occurred to me that staying at this weight and fluctuating around it would satisfy me. I didn't even once think I might grow 'cool with my BMI baby!'. Weighing the size of a small aircraft wasn't pleasant but I can now walk up a hill now without collapsing.

Someone pointed out a simple truth to me, and if he was an 'ex-friend' before he assaulted my vanity, he's a triple ex now. He suddenly said 'you've never been exactly slim'. I was a bit put out by this revelation. I was quite sure that I had been...once. But he did me a favour in the end because its absolutely true. Even as a toddler I had chubby little thighs and, though I know I will regret sharing this, my nickname was 'Pud'. On really bad days the long version was employed. Yes, I was known as 'Pudding'. This is my gift to you today. Please enjoy it.

At one time I was a very balletic character. But I was turned down by Elmhurst Ballet School because 'I wasn't the right shape'. I always assumed it was because of my rump. Or simply because I had curves that wouldn't go away. I have always longed to shop in the 'petite' section of Monsoon. I have longed to wear size 3 shoes instead of my flipper-shaped size 8 (and a half). I have always wondered what it must be like to wake up in a size 8 body instead. The odd thing is, that when I tried being a size 10 for a solitary Summer it just didn't make that much difference to anything. The down-side being that I had to buy a wardrobe-full of clothes that I wore for the same solitary season.

I don't think I'm going to worry about it anymore. I am who I am. I am no more likely to suddenly be wearing my shoe-size as a dress than I am to be wearing size 3 shoes. The problem is, I don't really want to. I am reminded of my sister-in-law who once said 'I could have been really thin, if I didn't love food so much'. She's a genius.