Another Twenty-Six Years

A couple of weeks back, my wife and I celebrated our 26th wedding anniversary. We have always both been pretty casual about the whole anniversary thing. Our shared view is that, if we have to place too much emphasis on the milestones, then perhaps we’re not enjoying the journey as much as we should. Also, raising our children was so demanding we did not really have the presence of mind to remember much beyond surviving each day. It was only when our kids starting preparing to leave the nest that we found ourselves remembering our anniversary.

“Say, didn't we get married in March?” my wife asked.
“Yes we did. It was the 10th or 12th, I think,” I replied.
“How long has it been?”
“Twenty-two years. No wait, twenty-three. Wow.”

That was three years ago. Last year I bought a fancy silver picture frame with “25th Anniversary” engraved along the bottom and two oval holes for photographs. The plan was for me to find a photo from when we first got married and another more recent picture.

That never happened and the frame stood empty all year. This year, however, I made the effort and found two suitable candidates. The first was taken on our wedding day (we looked vaguely terrified). The other was from our first trip to England without the kids (we look relieved). So we now have a beautiful silver frame showing where we started and how far we have come. Through a trick of perspective, my wife’s wedding gown appears to run diagonally across the other, more recent, picture. It looks almost like a path, as if God is showing us that he knew our steps long before we did and that those steps would lead us...here.

What struck me while searching through the albums and computer folders, was just how much we have been though since tying the knot a quarter of a century ago. I got to revisit my children’s lives, from them clinging to us while we helped them take their first wide-eyed steps, to them gazing into the distance with that longing in their eyes that meant they would soon be gone. Our aim was always to raise them to love Jesus and build their lives on God’s unshakable foundation. They have both had their struggles with faith, but my daughter talks about God as if he is a part of the family and last night my son had to end our Skype session early to attend the church youth group he leads. This gives me hope for their futures.

Somewhere in those photographs was a snapshot of my very first novel and I remembered so clearly why it was I started writing. I wanted to create stories that Christians could enjoy and that perhaps atheists could read as well. What I never expected was for it to take so long for that dream to come to fruition. In fact, the journey of my writing coincides almost exactly with that of my children. Last year both my son and daughter moved out to start lives of their own. Earlier this year I discovered something about my first novel that made the years of effort worthwhile.

While searching for my book “Alpha Redemption” on Google, I found it listed on a site of top 25 A.I. novels, surrounded by secular books from the likes of Asimov, Banks and Clarke. The reviewer said that he never thought that he would one day write a positive review for a Christian novel, but that that day had come. Looking at my little book sitting on that list of secular titles among the giants of science fiction, I realized that I could happily stop writing because this is exactly what I set out to do all those years ago.

But, like any journey, it doesn't finish till you get to the end. My children’s lives have just begun and the path leading from my wife’s dress does not stop but appears to pass out of the frame and on into the unknown. And I have too many stories inside my head to stop writing now. I hope that this is just the beginning and that, twenty five years down the line, I will be looking for more photographs to put inside a frame and marveling at how much we have lived during that time.  

Beyond Enlightenment

My route to Christianity was a little bit like the commute to my last job: slow and full of detours with occasional moments of hair-raising excitement. I used to work and live on opposite ends of a popular holiday resort on the English coast and there were only two viable routes. Getting to work and back again could be tricky, especially during the holiday season. Add to that the constant road works. . .well, you get the picture.

During high school I got involved in the New Age via meditation and not for the reasons you might think. I suffered terribly from bad skin during my teens. It wasn't your normal spotty skin. According to my doctor I have a medical condition that causes my skin to scar in an odd way. So, whereas your normal teenager would get a small red pimple, I developed these huge red sores. They were quite painful at times. It felt as if someone was digging a needle into my skull. I looked everywhere for a remedy, trying all sorts of weird and wonderful treatments. Everyone I spoke to seemed to have "the cure". They would take one look at my skin and say: "You should try....".

Someone told me that sugar was probably the cause and that I should eradicate it from my diet. I put this to the test by eating a large slab of cooking chocolate every day for a week. I gained five pounds but my skin stayed unchanged. I tried the most powerful cleansers on the market, but the angry welts remained, sometimes growing so large it looked as if someone had punched me in the eye. What I did notice was that my acne would flare up during times of stress and so I decided to look for ways to keep my emotions under control.

I tried meditation and it seemed to help, making me feel quite calm. If anything upset me, my mantra was "it doesn't matter". Before long, my stress levels started to fall. People began commenting on how peaceful I was. My acne even started to fade. Spurred on by this initial success, I began to explore deeper meditation techniques. I learned to focus my thoughts and would practise meditating whenever possible, even while going about my normal daily activities. Then, one night, I had an experience that made me think that perhaps I had gone a little too far in my quest for peace-of-mind.

I remember walking to the shops one evening, meditating deeply on a particular concept, when the world just seemed to go blank. It is hard to describe, but it was as if all the lights in the universe had gone out all at once, or as if someone had hit a universal "pause" button. I stopped in my tracks and thought: "Oh no. Now I've done it. I've lost my mind". But I was fine, if a little dazed. I continued to the shops and bought bread and milk, and returned home.

I described my experience in a letter to a school friend who had recently moved to Australia. He was as mystified by it as I was. Within two weeks, however, I discovered an almost word-for-word copy of my description of that night's event in a book I was reading. The topic of the book? Buddhism.

From what I can gather, my deep meditation had caused me to stumble across what the Zen Buddhists call a "kensho" or "satori" experience. It's a little bit like seeing a familiar object from a profoundly different perspective. The idea of satori is to gain a deeper insight into existence. On the road to what the Buddhists call "enlightenment" or "nirvana", students must learn to experience satori over and over again. To be honest, the whole thing unnerved me a little and I was reluctant to pursue it, although I can see the appeal. It was a powerful experience--possibly even life-changing. At that time I was dabbling in all things New Age, but I did start to think of myself as a Buddhist, not by choice, but by accident.

It was another five or six years (and more spiritual detours) before I walked into a Christian service and immediately knew I was home. I think, deep down inside, I had always known Jesus was the way. I just couldn't seem to find the path to Him. I sometimes wonder why I took the long way around, seemingly taking every route except the straight one. Perhaps I needed to see the lies before being convinced of the truth. In my pre-Christian days, I was drawn to Buddhism because it is such a peaceful religion. Having experienced the religion first-hand, however, I can tell you now that the peace it offers is empty compared to the peace and understanding you gain as a Christian. My mantra of "it doesn't matter" was way off because things do matter.

Perhaps I needed to experience Buddhism for a reason. I don't know. All I do know is, God created the universe, He put the rules in place, and there is no true peace without Him. Everything else is counterfeit.