You may have seen on the news that there was an accident at a Christian Festival over the weekend. There are two responses which really anger me.

In case you missed the reports, every August bank holiday, there is a festival called ‘Big Church Festival.’ It used to be called ‘The Big Church Day Out,’ and we went once—it was great fun, with food trucks and a stage with bands playing, lots of stalls, lots of people. (I don’t especially enjoy most ‘Christian’ music, but there was even an opera singer event, which was marvellous.) Anyway, the festival has grown over the years, had a name change, and now includes camping. Thousands of people attend. This year, a large wooden sign fell (I think due to winds) and hurt several people, killing one man who was a pastor. Very sad.

The two things which anger me are the responses I have seen on social media. One reaction has been humour—jokes made about the fact it happened at a Christian event. This is such bad taste. There are even reactions by people who claim to be christians but want to say the jokes are funny, they can’t resist laughing ‘even though I am a Christian.’ Being a Christian has nothing to do with it—that just means they hold a certain theological belief, it doesn’t make them better than others (even if it should). I suspect their reaction has something to do with wanting to appear relatable, ‘I’m a Christian but I still have a sense of humour’ sort of mentality. I consider them weak and bad mannered. When someone has recently been killed, it’s just plain rude to make jokes, or laugh about it, or show any lack of respect towards those who are mourning.

The other response, also by Christians, is the ‘God has a plan,’ ‘good will come of this,’ misguided nonsense which is also being spouted. It’s like christianity teaches that nothing bad will happen to good people (which is so far off the truth), therefore if something bad does happen, it must be part of God’s plan and some great good will be revealed. Again, this shows huge insensitivity towards those who are mourning (and a complete absence of understanding about what is written in the Bible and what is evidenced in real life). They seem to think they have a genie in their pocket, and if they have prayed the right prayers, and have the right motives, God will do what they want—he will suspend the laws of physics, perform miracles on demand, protect them from all physical consequences. And if God does not protect them—if high winds and a heavy sign are not influenced by a physics-defying miracle, well that must mean God has a better plan—because absolutely every event is part of a secret ‘plan’ therefore we must sing worship songs and celebrate because it’s not bad really after all. Is it? Actually, yes, it is bad. It is sad and horrid and vastly unfair. Bad things happen to good people. (Visit people in countries who are desperately praying that their children won’t die of starvation or disease if you don’t believe me.) Maybe nothing good will come of this tragedy. Maybe a child will grow up without her father, a mother has lost her son, friends have lost someone they love—and they will live with that hurt for the rest of their lives. There won’t be some great ‘good’ which will unfold. Life is just plain rubbish sometimes, and acknowledging that is not lack of faith, it is truthful. Pretending otherwise is misguided and cruel—because then when horrid things happen people either think they must have failed or God must have failed, because they know there is nothing ‘good’ in the disaster.

I am not denying that God is God, nor suggesting that God is absent. I do believe that God is God, I just don’t think he constantly miraculously intervenes to reverse laws of physics (which he set) every time humans pray. That would make humans into gods. Nor do I think God is absent—every horrid event in my life I have found God is there, helping me cope, crying with me, holding me when I am frightened. But when tragedy strikes, that is the time to cry. I think those who mock, or those who see it as an opportunity for christian scalp-hunting through misdirected praise songs have missed the point. If you are unaffected, if you are not crying, now is the time to shut up. Anything else is just rude.

Thanks for reading. I hope you have a great week, but if it’s tough I hope you know it’s okay to admit that it’s rubbish—and I hope you find the help you need.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Feeling Entitled

I love England. I love the countryside, and I love the people—nowhere else seems to have the ironic humour, the lack of fuss, the basic honesty of British people. (Yes, I know there are exceptions.) If you’re standing at a bus stop in the rain, someone will make you laugh. If you drop your purse, probably someone will give it back to you. However, the big fault that I see in my fellow Brits, the one trait that might break us, is a sense of entitlement. (Be warned, there is bit of a rant coming.)

This seems to be a modern thing. When I watch old movies, or series set in the past on telly, the overriding trait seems to be one of duty. ‘What ought I be doing?’ But not now. Now I hear people complaining that their problems are not being solved by the government, by the NHS, by the schools… People seem to think that if they have a problem (don’t we all have a problem of some kind?) then someone else ought to solve it.

If a child has a disorder that makes them not able to learn as easily as other children, then they are entitled to extra help, special treatment, provided by the school. (Who do they think will pay for this? Who will lose out because the staff are giving extra time to their child?) Surely a diagnosis is helpful so they can form strategies to overcome the problem, not to make an excuse, certainly not to off-load the problem to the school. They may need extra help, and they can ask for it, but should they feel entitled to it?

If someone has a health problem, they think the health service should sort it, at whatever expense—irrespective of how much has been budgeted, and therefore which other patients might lose out. And they think that they should be seen locally, with little or no waiting time, by a friendly helpful professional, in a clean environment with comfortable chairs and facilities in case they need them. Oh, and easy parking or transport provided. All for free, of course. And if they find it difficult to walk, they should be able to park their car wherever they find convenient—irrespective of the danger to other drivers or pedestrians. And they should be provided with flat walkways. Because they are entitled.

The one which really annoys me is when things happen globally (not naming any names) and it messes up things like the oil supply. Instead of recognising there is a crisis, thinking about how to get round the problem, people feel entitled to compensation. If the cost of living goes up, the government should ensure no-one loses out. People still expect to be able to buy their coffee (imagine if they had to make it at home!) They still expect to have a holiday (somewhere sunny). They still expect to be able to have a car for every driver in the family, and a computer for everyone in the family, etc, etc. Because they’re entitled to. Aren’t they?

Now, I know that we pay taxes, and these taxes provide education and health services. But it’s not a magic pot. The money is only there if we put it there. And lower taxes are another thing that people think they are entitled to. There is a mentality of ‘let the rich pay.’ I’m not sure who ‘the rich’ are. Do they mean media celebrities who earn millions entertaining online or on the telly? Or perhaps they mean people who have inherited millions from their families (irrespective of what costs they might also have inherited). Or perhaps they mean the people who worked hard at school, and studied after school, and then worked long hours (not spending their evenings at the pub) and therefore earn more than them? Is ‘anyone richer than me’ the people who should pay? Because I am entitled.

This worries me, because it is not sustainable, and it breeds discontent. I think we need a change in thinking. Life is full of problems, and some of them will disadvantage you. But instead of seeing a problem as belonging to other people, of feeling entitled to not solve it ourselves, we need to take some ownership of the difficulty. If we have a problem (health, educational, financial) then it is our problem. We can look for help—and often it is available because we live in a great society—but we are not entitled to it. Sometimes having a problem means we need to change something, we need to forgo something, we need to accept that something will be more difficult for us. A child with a learning disability should be taught strategies to overcome the problem, not expect society to bend to them. A health problem might mean finding new ways to cope. A financial problem might mean living differently.

I’m not saying that our society shouldn’t help—it’s helping that makes us human. It’s the sense of entitlement, the continual moaning, the feeling that every problem (even when it’s our fault for buying something unwisely) should be solved by other people. Let’s take ownership of our problems. Let’s find solutions together, which might involve asking for help but please, can we try to not feel so entitled. At the end of the day, no one owes you anything.

Okay, rant over. Thank you for listening. What is your ‘pet hate’? What worries you in society? Add to the comments below, and perhaps we can create a perfect society!
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com
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My back muscles gave out this week. It always surprises me how this affects everything (which shouldn’t really because obviously all other limbs hang off the back, so when your back is agony, so is lifting a fork or taking a step). If you’ve never suffered with a bad back, you probably don’t fully appreciate what I’m saying (and everyone who has had a bad back will be nodding along in sympathy!)

It’s very annoying, and very bad timing. I was planting sunflower seeds, and I didn’t feel anything aching, so I guess I wasn’t being particularly protective of my back (which is an on-going weakness). I stood up and ‘click’ something snapped. (Well, it didn’t snap, but it felt like it!) I was at the far side of the field, without a phone, and I wondered how I would get back to the house. Mad Meg was not helpful, rushing round with a log and trying to entice me to throw sticks for her. Nor were the cats, who saw me walking (hobbling) slowly and came to enquire whether I would like to stroke them, rubbing against my legs and jumping on my feet. I made it back to the house and told Husband he would have to sort the geese and cook dinner.

The timing was terrible—the day before Husband left for Egypt on a work trip. He did offer to stay at home, but his trip looked fun, and I knew I could manage, so I told him to go. I took ibuprofen (marvellous drug) and rested, hoping and praying that it would be better in the morning. It wasn’t. Which meant I had to cancel tea with my daughter-in-law, which has been a treat in the diary I have been looking forward to. Illness is rarely convenient, life is often disappointing.

I am currently managing, whilst being in pain most of the time. I know it will pass, it’s only muscles/ligaments I think, because if I rest and take Nurofen it starts to improve, and when I move (the animals and me still have to eat) then it stiffens up again. I am existing with life at a new level. If I drop something I look at it, lying unhelpfully on the floor, knowing it will stay there for a week. (It’s a little like being 9 months pregnant, when so much of life is beyond reach.) If I put on clothes inside out, they stay that way because it’s too much effort to change them. Drying after a shower takes on a whole new logistical procedure. I can manage slippers and wellies, shoes are beyond me. I found a nice fat stick in the garden, and now use it to walk to feed the animals. I hobble slowly, like an old woman. Meg bounces along next to me. I can’t take her for a walk, but she seems happy enough just following me around, and she sleeps in my room when Husband is away, so she has become my (rather smelly) shadow. Some furniture (the comfortable kind) is no longer possible—I use the upright chairs to avoid getting stuck.

The thing is, when life goes wrong (and in my experience it often does) then we have to cope with bitter disappointment, and then get on with solving the new problem. I appreciate my back in a whole new way, and I realise that in our modern world of pain killers and dishwashers (but only the top shelf—the bottom shelf is too low!) even a bad back is not so bad. I am very grateful this didn’t happen when I was in Edinburgh for my review, or when travelling. This week I can cope. One day, we will all be old, or ill, and have to adjust to a new way of doing things, perhaps wearing inside-out clothes or eating less well because it’s too difficult to cook. That is life. It has some difficult times, and we just have to get on with it. Perhaps illness is a way to practise, so that when we get to that stage in life we know to live in the moment, to focus on the good things, to not let the pain dominate.

I hope you are currently pain free. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x