A Momentous Decision

Today I’ve come to a momentous decision.  Momentous, that is, for me, but probably not for the world at large.  Let me explain.

For as long as I remember I’ve loved the game of football, and cherish some great footballing memories.  As a child in the 1960s I attended matches as Boothferry Park, the former home of Hull City.  I found the whole experience absolutely magical: the atmosphere, the noise, the crowd, the cheering and the booing, the thrill of victory and despair of defeat.  Later there was a wonderful period when my dad and his two brothers, together with me and my brother, were season ticket holders.  Matchdays were eagerly anticipated in the days when Waggy and Chillo were leading the Tigers’ attack.

Another particularly memorable occasion was an away match at Burnley in the 1980s, when City required a 3 goal margin of victory to achieve promotion.  At the time I was living in Norwich.  My brother, Phil, travelled over from his home Germany, and we drove up for the match. The Tigers won by 2-0, thus losing out on promotion by a single goal, but the atmosphere was amazing.  When the club moved to their new ground, the KC Stadium, in 2002, we had a brick with the names of my dad, me and my brother placed in the memorial pavement near the main entrance.

The best footballing weekend of my life occurred in May 2008.  By that time I was chaplain of Doncaster Rovers, and both Rovers and City had reached Wembley play-off Finals (for League 1 and the Championship respectively), to be played on consecutive days that weekend.  I managed to get tickets for both matches and saw both teams triumph.  I will never forget that weekend!  Hull City reached the Premiership for the first time in their over 100-year history.  That, perhaps surprisingly, is when my love affair with football began to turn slightly sour.

To be frank, life in the Premiership hasn’t been all that it promised during City’s two spells there.  Yes, there have been some great performances and memorable matches, and yes, City did reach the FA Cup Final for the first time in their history last year.  But I seem to have become somewhat disillusioned with professional football, especially at the top level, not least through the fact that money seems to be the driving force.

In February it was announced that the Premier League has sold TV rights to its games for over £5bn, which I find grotesque.  It is reputed that the top players like Wayne Rooney can earn around £250,000 per week, which is about 10 times the current UK average ANNUAL salary.  How can that be justified?  Football at the top level is awash with money, but where does it all go?  It seems to me that much more such be reinvested in grassroots football to benefit those who can least afford it.

This week brought the news that two separate criminal investigations are underway into corruption at FIFA, football’s world governing body, with seven top FIFA officials having been arrested.  US Attorney General Loretta Lynch stated that, "The indictment alleges corruption that is rampant, systemic, and deep-rooted.”   There are allegations of corrupt actions dating back many years, including millions of pounds of bribes.  Meanwhile FIFA President Sepp Blatter, who has been at the head of FIFA all during that time, denies any knowledge or responsibility, and has been re-elected to serve for another term as President.

That, I guess, is the straw that has broken this particular camel’s back.  For me, “The Beautiful Game” has become very ugly, and I have come to the decision that I cannot simply close my eyes to its ugliness.  Plainly put, although I will always love Hull City as my club, and will cherish some very special memories, I feel that I can no longer support the professional game.  I've struggled with this, but my decision is that as long as Sepp Blatter remains as President of FIFA I will not attend another game of professional football.

Many will think that I am spitting into the wind, and that my action is as much use as King Canute trying to command the waves to recede.  Of course my action will have no effect on Mr Blatter or FIFA, and little or no effect on my own club (whose owners seem to pay little attention to the fans anyway, but that’s another story!)  So am I cutting off my nose to spite my face?  Maybe, but it’s my little protest at a football world which has gone mad.  I’d rather put my money into something worthwhile.  And my decision will please my wife no end!

Face-to-face encounter

Two weeks ago was the 60th anniversary of the day when I came bouncing into the world.  My birth was apparently a somewhat momentous event for my parents and, to a lesser extent, to the small East Yorkshire village where my family then lived.  After having had four girls, I arrived; I am told that the message soon rang round the village, "The Clarks have had a boy!"  About 6 years later, our little brother arrived to complete the family.

Although I have reached the age of 60, I am sure that none of my previous birthdays have been spent in such an unusual way.  For a start, my birthday only lasted for 13 hours, and most of it was spent in the air!  On the day before my birthday, I set off on the long flight to Auckland, New Zealand, to visit my brother Phil and his family.  Because New Zealand time is 11 hours ahead of UK time, it appears that somewhere along the route those 11 hours were lost.  We had a brief stopover in Singapore before arriving in Auckland late at night, just in time for some birthday cake, made by my sister-in-law Monika.  Though I've forgotten most of the events surrounding my previous 59 birthdays, I'm not going to forget number 60.

Up until shortly before my 60th, I had expected it to be a fairly normal type of birthday, even though reaching the age of 60 is a sort of milestone.  Then I learned that Phil had been diagnosed with terminal oesophageal cancer, and I came to the decision to visit him in New Zealand.  I hastily arranged flights for me and two of our sisters, which happened to mean that I would be in the air for most of my birthday.

I came to realise, when I first heard of Phil's illness, that responding to such news seems much more difficult when you are separated by around 11,400 miles.  You can't just pop round for a chat or a hug!  I am so grateful that I was granted compassionate leave by the Methodist Church and was able to book the flights and spent 6 full days with Phil and his lovely family.  It was a very precious time, with both laughter and tears, talking and praying.  I hope that our being there was of some little encouragement and support.  We continue to pray for a miracle, believing that with God all things are possible.

Modern communication methods are amazing and give opportunities for communication which could not have been imagined in times gone by.  But there is no substitute for being with someone in person.  Last Sunday was Pentecost Sunday, when we celebrated the outpouring of God's Holy Spirit.  The promise of Jesus is that all who believe in him will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.  Through his Spirit, God comes and makes his home in our lives - he comes to us in a personal way.  God is not a remote, far away figure, but one who longs to make himself know to us when we open our lives to him.  His presence is with us, he meets us face-to-face.

As a PS, if you are a praying person and would like to support Phil in prayer, click on HERE to find out how you can do it.

Where is your focus?

All sorts of thoughts and feelings are going through my mind right now.  Ever since we heard, a couple of weeks ago, that my brother Phil had been diagnosed with cancer of the oesophagus, and that humanly speaking the outlook was bleak, we have been joining with many others around the world in praying for Phil's healing.  Subsequent to the diagnosis, Phil underwent a CT scan which did not reveal any indication that the cancer had spread significantly.  The next step was a PET scan, designed to give more information which would help the medical people to make decisions about possible treatment. After the relatively positive results from the CT scan, we were brought back down to earth with a bump by the results of the PET scan.  Phil writes,

'The PET scan revealed that the cancer has grown around my aorta, and spread into my kidney and abdomen, so is now completely inoperable. All they can offer is palliative care - slowing down the growth of the cancer, and reducing my pain. It means I have maybe six months left on planet earth. We are absolutely in "only a miracle will do" territory.'

I must admit that my emotions are all over the place at the moment.  There are odd moments when, unexpectedly, the tears begin to flow (there must be something in my eye!)  At other times I feel full of faith and hope for the miracle for which we are all praying.  The truth is, it's when the tough times come that the reality and strength of our faith is put to the test.  We make a big mistake if we think that being a follower of Jesus will make us immune from troubled times.  Becoming a Christian is not an insurance policy against problems in life.  In fact, Jesus told his disciples, 'Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows' (John 16:33); not one of my favourite promises of Jesus!

We have probably all heard the story of a dog whose ownership was disputed.  Two people each claimed that the dog was theirs.  To decide whose dog it was, the judge decided to put the two claimants in a room with the dog, and ask each to beckon the dog.  The person to whom the dog responded would be judged to be the rightful owner.  To whom would the dog turn?  

That story comes to mind because it has a relevance to the situation we are facing in our family at the moment.  In our situation, we have a choice.  Do we allow cancer to dominate our thoughts, or do we look to the One who is far bigger than cancer?  It is easy to allow a particular problem we are facing to so dominate our thoughts that we feel crushed and overwhelmed.  How much better it is if we seek to keep our focus on the God who loves us and for whom nothing is impossible?

There is a story in Mark's gospel (chapter 9) of a man whose young son is terribly troubled by spiritual oppression.  The man approaches Jesus and says, 'If you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.'  Clearly the man didn't have vast quantities of faith, as he wasn't even sure that Jesus was able to help his son.  This is the next part of the conversation:


‘“If you can”?’ said Jesus. ‘Everything is possible for one who believes.’  Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, ‘I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!’

Even though the man's faith was very weak, Jesus received that faith and responded by bringing wholeness and healing to the boy.  The key is not so much the size of our faith, but in whom our faith is placed.  Jesus himself said that even faith the size of a mustard seed can move a mountain (Matthew 17:20).

Tomorrow I and two of my sisters head off to New Zealand to spend time with Phil and his family.  Though we acknowledge the medical prognosis and the reality of the situation, I hope and pray that our focus will not primarily be on the cancer or the diagnosis, but on the God for whom everything is possible.

As one of my daughters pointed out this morning, the first part of our prayer for Phil has now been answered - no surgery!  We now focus on the second part - no cancer.

The dangers of comparison

I've been pondering over the past few days the dangers of comparing oneself with others.  I suppose it's a natural thing to do, and there are aspects of the formative part of life which lead us in that direction.  I remember very well my school days when end of term reports and exam results ranked pupils in order of achievement (the more I think about that, the more unfair and inappropriate I think it is).

There are two very real dangers in comparing ourselves with others.  The first is when we compare ourselves with someone who displays a real talent in a particular area of life which we don't possess.  We can instantly feel greatly inferior, and come to believe that, by comparison, our talents are hardly worth speaking about.  To use the example of the classroom situation, a pupil who finds themselves ranked towards the bottom of the class may feel despondent, despite the fact that they have performed to the best of their ability.  I must confess to falling into this error at times over the years.

The other error we fall into is to compare ourselves with someone to whom we feel superior.  Perhaps we find ourselves blessed with a gift in a particular area which not many others possess.  If we are not careful, we can be led into feelings of pride (and we all know what pride comes before!) and complacency.  It's rarely, if ever, a good thing to compare ourselves with others; we were never meant to try and be someone else.  I like this image:

I am currently using a book of daily readings by Rolland and Heidi Baker, called 'Reckless Devotion.'  I am finding it to be both challenging and inspiring.  The readings for the past couple of days have dealt with the subject of comparison.  I love what Heidi Baker writes on the subject:

'God has made each of us unique. You don't need to try to be anyone other than yourself. Your Father is thrilled with who he has made you to be. Walk in his acceptance and love.' 

'We don't need to try and be like anyone else.  You don't want to be me; you want to be you, fully filled with the power of the living God.  God is in the business of creating originals, not copies.  Embrace the fact that he made you to be you, and then cooperate with him.  When you stop striving and struggling and give him space, that's when his power can truly flow through you.'

Each of us is a unique creation.  God created each of us with enormous potential.  He never compares us with other people, why should we?  It's pointless striving to be someone else; it is bound to lead to disappointment and failure.  Instead, with God's help we can seek to be all that he intended us to be.