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Jim McCrory

What I Fear Most

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Wednesday, 5 Feb 2025, 11:26


"Men have forgotten God; that's why all this has happened." Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

"Aim at Heaven and you will get Earth 'thrown in': aim at Earth and you will get neither." C.S. Lewis

 "When men choose not to believe in God, they do not thereafter believe in nothing, they then become capable of believing in anything." G.K. Chesterton

 "If God does not exist, then everything is permissible." Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov:

"He has shown you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you

but to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God? Micah 6:8 (BSB).



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What I Fear Most

Reflect on the quotes presented above. They serve as a solemn warning, crafted by sages through the ages, including the divine insights from Micah. A profound fear of mine is that many will be drawn into, and pledge their allegiance to, this post-Christian era. Entrapped by a materialistic and atheistic spirit of the times, this path does not promise a yellow brick road to a new age—and indeed, the cracks on that road are there for all to see.

I see the signs all around me—religious buildings closing, faith dismissed as outdated, and society drifting further into a post-Christian age. We live in a world that still runs on the aroma of Christian morality, yet fewer people recognize or acknowledge the source. What happens when those aromas run out? What will replace the faith that shaped our laws, our ethics, and our understanding of what it means to be human? I fear the answer, because nothing else works.

I was born into a world where Christianity was still the foundation of society. It wasn’t just a private belief system but the bedrock of Western civilization. The idea that every human being has worth—that justice, mercy, and compassion matter—comes not from secular reason, but from the belief that we are made in the image of God. Even those who reject Christianity still live within the moral framework it built. But what happens when that scaffolding is removed?

The moral and legal systems that govern much of the West have their roots in the Bible. Take human rights, for example. They are not self-evident in nature. Ancient empires didn’t operate on the assumption that all men were created equal. That idea comes from Genesis. Justice, as we know it today, was shaped by biblical principles—the Ten Commandments, Jesus’ call to love our neighbour, and the belief that truth is objective rather than relative.

Compassion, too, is a distinctly Christian contribution. The modern concept of charity was not a natural development of human civilization but the result of Jesus’ teachings. Hospitals, schools, and social services largely grew out of the church’s mission. Christianity introduced the revolutionary idea that the weak, the poor, and the outcast mattered. It gave us a moral compass beyond self-interest, a vision of a society where the first shall be last and the last shall be first.

Yet, I fear we are severing ourselves from our roots. Society wants Christian values—justice, dignity, kindness—without Christ. But values detached from their source wither over time.

If Christianity declines, something will take its place. That is inevitable. G.K. Chesterton put it well: “When men stop believing in God, they don’t believe in nothing; they believe in anything.” And history has shown that the substitutes for Christianity are rarely better.

Secular humanism tries to provide a moral framework without God, but its foundation is unstable. Morality becomes subjective, shifting with cultural trends rather than standing firm on eternal truth. The dignity of human life is no longer a given; it must be constantly justified. The moment it becomes inconvenient, it is discarded.

Scientific materialism, another replacement, reduces people to mere biological accidents. There is no soul, no inherent purpose—just neurons firing in a meaningless cosmos. Under this worldview, justice and morality become illusions, useful only for social cohesion but not rooted in any ultimate truth.

Then there are the political ideologies that rise to replace faith. The 20th century provided grim examples of this. When societies abandon belief in a higher power, they often turn to human messiahs—whether political leaders or radical movements. Communism, fascism, and extreme nationalism all sought to create utopias without God, and all led to disaster. The state became the new deity, demanding ultimate loyalty and punishing heretics who refused to conform.

Some turn instead to paganism or vague spirituality, but these, too, fail to provide the structure and hope that Christianity offers. They give temporary comfort but no lasting foundation.

Already, we see the cracks forming. Anxiety and depression are rising, particularly among the young. Without faith, many drift into nihilism, struggling to find meaning in a world that tells them they are just highly evolved animals with no destiny beyond death. There is a growing polarization in society because we have lost a shared moral language. We see the erosion of self-sacrifice, replaced by self-interest. Even forgiveness is fading—cancel culture is what happens when a society forgets grace.

These are not just random cultural shifts; they are the symptoms of a deeper spiritual emptiness. Christianity, for all its flaws in practice, gave us a reason to strive for goodness beyond ourselves. It gave us meaning beyond our immediate desires. Without it, we are left with a world where morality is fluid, where justice is whatever, the majority decides.

But even in my fear, I have hope. History is not a straight line; it moves in cycles. Christianity has faced decline before—during the Enlightenment, for example—yet it revived. God is not bound by cultural trends. Faith often flourishes in adversity. Some of the strongest Christian movements have emerged when belief became countercultural.

Perhaps the future of Christianity is not in grand institutions but in small, faithful communities. Perhaps the faith will be purified by the fire of opposition, leaving behind the nominal belief and rediscovering the radical love and truth of the gospel.

I fear that many will abandon Christianity. I fear what will take its place. But I also believe that truth endures. The world may wander, but Christ remains. And those who seek Him will find Him, even in the darkest times.

This fear may linger in me, but I refuse to despair. Because at the heart of Christianity is a promise—one that no cultural shift can erase: “I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Amen.” Matthew 28:20 (WEB).


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Jim McCrory

Episodic Memory

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By the waters of Babylon,

there we sat down and wept,

when we remembered Zion.

Psalm 137: 1 (ESV).



"If I were to ask you the name of the capital of Tibet, you would answer instantly, right? But what if I ask you about the last time, you were on holiday with friends? What would happen? A film would roll in your head. If you want to attach a name to it, it's called episodic memory. We all have it. It's the part of our brain that makes us smile or laugh when we are sitting on the train, and people look at us as if we have lost our marbles. Let me share one of mine that is funny, nostalgic, and relates to my mother's lack of self-awareness—something we all fail to see at times."



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I was six years old and Sundays were marked by your arrival late morning behind our tenement on Langland's Road. Clad in a bowtie and Donkey Jacket, you stood on a soapbox, an incongruous music hall artist in our quiet neighbourhood. 

With a swig of fortified wine, you launched into Mario Lanza’s "Be My Love," my grandfather’s favourite. Each performance sent our dog scurrying under the table in fear. 

As you concluded, coins clinked from my mother’s purse onto the ground from two stories up. 

And every week my mother would say, “Why doesn’t that damn man sing something new?” Whilst dabbing her eyes with the handkerchief she took from her apron.


P.S. The capital of Tibet is Lhasa; don't tell me you didn't know.



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Jim McCrory

Terminal Cancer's Unseen Grace

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Monday, 3 Feb 2025, 16:30


"It is an irony of human existence that when you find you're the piper at  the gates of mortality, the world looks somewhat hopeful, illuminating the presence of kindness."


Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot


Cancer's Unseen Grace

One thing I’ve observed about the human family is that a fatal cancer diagnosis alters the architecture of perception regarding how they treat you. Those who are often indifferent or preoccupied reveal a hidden tenderness.

Tolerance kicks in from those around. Some side effects of hormone therapy, which is targeted at building a wall around cancer, include grumpiness, failing memory, intrusive thoughts, and an insatiable appetite for laziness, triggered by the body fighting with itself, and a "can’t be bothered" attitude.

But the machinery of life—doctor's surgeries, hospitals, consultants, even passing acquaintances—shifts into a mode of quiet grace, as if some unseen conductor has signalled a change in the score. It is an irony of human existence that when you find you're the piper at the gates of mortality, the world looks somewhat hopeful, illuminating the presence of kindness.

Strangers extend themselves in unexpected ways; friends, once casual, become unwavering; professionals, who might otherwise be hurried, now pause, listen, and offer more than duty requires. The same world, unchanged in its mechanics, pulses with a gentler rhythm.

Of course, not everyone is transformed. There are always those who move through life as if unseeing, concerned only with their own trajectory. But is that new? Their indifference and selfishness are constants against which kindness becomes more visible. It is not that the world changes—it is that awareness sharpens, revealing the threads of compassion that were always there, woven into the fabric of existence.

A terminal illness, then, does not merely bring fear or sorrow; it grants a rare vantage point. From this place, one sees the world not as it should be, but as it is—both flawed and profoundly beautiful, both self-absorbed and astonishingly kind.

"What a person desires is unfailing love" Proverbs 19:22 (Niv).


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Jim McCrory

Contemplating God, the Universe, the Macro and the Micro

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For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

so My ways are higher than your ways

and My thoughts than your thoughts.

Isaiah 55:9 (BSB).




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The immensity of the universe is a concept that often stretches the bounds of human imagination. Our observable universe, which spans about 93 billion light-years in diameter, offers a glimpse into the cosmic scale of space and time. The light from the most distant objects in this universe has journeyed approximately 46.5 billion years to reach us, illuminating cosmos that were significantly closer at the time of their emission. This mind-bending phenomenon is a result of the universe expanding over time, a concept that challenges our understanding and perceptions of space itself.

But what lies beyond this observable limit? The universe beyond what we can see may be vastly larger, perhaps even infinite. However, our vision is constrained by the finite speed of light combined with the age of the universe, placing a boundary on our cosmic observations. This unseeable region teems with scientific speculation and investigative curiosity, probing the very fabric of reality and the possibilities of what might lie beyond.

Switching our gaze from the cosmic expanse to the minutiae, we encounter the smallest known elements of the universe: elementary particles. These fundamental constituents, which include quarks, leptons, gauge bosons, and the celebrated Higgs boson, form the building blocks of matter and mediate the forces of nature. Quarks come together to form protons and neutrons, which in turn construct the nuclei of atoms. Leptons, such as electrons, populate the shells of atoms and play crucial roles in chemical reactions and physical processes.

Moreover, gauge bosons act as carriers of the fundamental forces—such as the electromagnetic force mediated by photons, the weak force by W and Z bosons, and the strong force by gluons. The theoretical graviton, still elusive, is thought to mediate gravity. The Higgs boson, discovered in 2012, interacts with other particles to provide them with mass, an interaction that takes place within the Higgs field.

The complexity and intricacy of these particles underline a universe that operates on principles beyond ordinary human comprehension, often leading us into philosophical and existential inquiries about infinity, the nature of time, and the very essence of being. Such explorations inevitably confront us with paradoxes that challenge the limits of our understanding and highlight the abstract nature of concepts like infinity.

Within this context of cosmic and atomic scales, one might question the adequacy of our human constructs when applied to the divine. It seems limiting, perhaps even audacious, to fit the creator of such an unfathomable universe into neat, precise categories—as if placing God into a "human bento box." The very act of creation, which encompasses the vast universe and its fundamental particles, suggests that the divine must operate beyond the confines of space and time.

Religious discourse over the ages has often sought to define God within human-comprehensible limits, leading to profound divisions, particularly within Christianity where debates over the nature of God—be it the concept of the Trinity, the singularity of God, or the nature of Jesus—prevail. These doctrinal disputes are further complicated by the diversity of biblical interpretations and translations that reflect the biases of different denominations.

For instance, interpretations of scriptural passages such as John 1:1 vary significantly, with some translations suggesting Jesus is divine, while others offer interpretations of him being "a god" or divine in nature without being God Himself. Such discrepancies often reflect underlying theological and cognitive biases shaped by cultural and familial backgrounds, influencing how one perceives these religious concepts.

Navigating this complex landscape requires a humble approach: engaging in prayer, seeking personal understanding through scripture, and embracing a love for God while honouring Christ Jesus, who exemplified and illuminated God’s character. This path encourages a personal connection with the divine, transcending denominational confines and fostering a deeper comprehension of the spiritual essence that pervades the vast, intricate universe we continue to explore and marvel at.


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Jim McCrory

Were You Bullied at School?

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"Navigating life after bullying is about dismantling the fortresses we built as children 

and learning to live without constant defence."


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"...there is a time when one man lords it over another to his own detriment."

Ecclesiastes 8:9 b (BSB).


In the quiet corridors of memory, sometimes the echoes of old school bells and whispered threats still linger, subtly shaping the adults we become. Though I wasn't bullied myself, the presence of gang members and weapons at school meant that my school days were spent in a state of high alert. This constant vigilance, while not bullying per se, instilled in me an acute awareness of my surroundings that has, in some ways, persisted into adulthood.

This heightened state of alert can be seen as a form of armour, developed young and worn through the years, ostensibly to protect but also sometimes to isolate. After delving into some research on the lasting impacts of bullying, I've come to understand more deeply how these early experiences can cast long shadows over our lives. Adults who were bullied as children may find that their schoolyard coping mechanisms have matured into more complex emotional responses. Sensitivity to criticism, difficulty in trusting others, and a propensity to sidestep conflict can all stem from those formative experiences of fear and humiliation.

For those who were bullied, the school environment becomes a battlefield of survival, where every interaction may be a potential threat. Such conditions can foster defensive behaviours that endure long past graduation. The defensive stance, while a necessary shield in youth, can lead to withdrawal or overreaction in completely benign adult situations, where the stakes are different, and the old enemies no longer present.

Understanding these patterns is crucial. Therapy, particularly cognitive-behavioural therapy, offers powerful tools for rewriting the internal narratives that tell us we are still trapped in those old roles of victim and antagonist. It teaches us to challenge our habitual responses and to replace them with thoughts that are more aligned with our current reality. This realignment can significantly alleviate the burden of the past.

Support groups also play a vital role. They are the collective where shared stories resonate with the power of common experience. In these spaces, validation and empathy flow freely, helping to salve old wounds. To speak and to be heard in such a setting is both empowering and healing, as it breaks the isolation that often accompanies the scars of bullying.

Moreover, engaging in activities that bolster well-being—such as exercise, meditation, and hobbies—enhances resilience. The simple act of walking through a forest or focusing on a creative endeavour can be profoundly therapeutic. These activities ground us in the present and remind us of the joys that life has to offer beyond our past adversities.

Cultivating strong, empathetic relationships is another cornerstone of healing. Friends, family members, and community connections can provide not only solace but also perspectives that challenge our ingrained patterns of thinking and reacting. They help us to see that not every critical word is a dagger, nor every disagreement a battle to be won.

Finally, education about bullying itself can transform pain into understanding. Knowing more about why bullying happens and recognizing its impacts can liberate a person from the chains of self-blame and isolation. It contextualizes personal pain within a broader social problem, which not only helps in healing but can also ignite a desire to advocate for changes that might save others from similar suffering.

Navigating life after bullying is about dismantling the fortresses we built as children and learning to live without constant defence. It's a journey of turning painful memories into stepping stones towards a more aware and compassionate self. By addressing the scars of our past with care, understanding, and support, we can reclaim our lives, proving that even the deepest wounds can be gateways to profound healing and transformation.


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Jim McCrory

The Folly of Hasty Judgments

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"The first to state his case seems right until another comes and cross-examines him."

Proverbs 18:17 (BSB).



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The ancient parable of the blind men and the elephant is a timeless tale that illustrates the limitations of human perception and the dangers of forming conclusions based on incomplete information. In the story, several blind men encounter an elephant for the first time. Each man touches a different part of the animal—the side, the tusk, the trunk, the leg, the ear, and the tail—and, based on their limited experience, they arrive at vastly different conclusions about what an elephant is. One believes it is like a wall, another a spear, another a snake, and so on. The parable serves as a metaphor for the human tendency to judge situations, ideas, or people based on narrow perspectives, often leading to misunderstandings and conflict.

This parable resonates deeply with the wisdom found in Proverbs 18:17, which states, "The one who states his case first seems right, until the other comes and examines him." This biblical proverb underscores the importance of seeking a fuller understanding before passing judgment. Just as the blind men in the parable were quick to assert their interpretations of the elephant, we too often rush to conclusions about others based on superficial observations or limited information. Such hasty judgments can lead to division, prejudice, and missed opportunities for deeper connection and understanding.

In today’s world, where information is abundant but often fragmented, the lesson of the blind men and the elephant is more relevant than ever. Social media, for instance, encourages snap judgments based on headlines, soundbites, or isolated incidents. We see a single post, a brief comment, or a moment captured out of context, and we feel equipped to label someone as good or bad, right or wrong. Yet, like the blind men, we are often grasping only a small part of a much larger picture. Our judgments, while they may seem justified in the moment, are frequently incomplete or misguided.

The folly of judging others based on little information is not just a modern problem; it is a universal human tendency. History is replete with examples of individuals and groups who were misjudged and misunderstood because others failed to seek a fuller understanding of their circumstances, beliefs, or actions. The parable and the proverb remind us that truth is often more complex than it appears, and that humility is essential in our interactions with others. We must recognize the limits of our own perspectives and be willing to listen, learn, and reconsider our assumptions.

Moreover, the parable of the blind men and the elephant invites us to consider the value of diverse perspectives. While each blind man’s understanding of the elephant was incomplete, their collective insights could have painted a more accurate picture. Similarly, when we engage with others who have different experiences and viewpoints, we enrich our own understanding of the world. Instead of dismissing those who see things differently, we should approach them with curiosity and openness, recognizing that their "piece of the elephant" may hold truths we have yet to discover.

In conclusion, the parable of the blind men and the elephant, coupled with the wisdom of Proverbs 18:17, offers a powerful lesson in humility and the dangers of hasty judgments. It challenges us to resist the urge to form conclusions based on limited information and to instead seek a fuller understanding of the people and situations we encounter. By doing so, we not only avoid the silliness of misguided judgments but also open ourselves to the richness of diverse perspectives and the possibility of deeper, more meaningful connections. In a world that often encourages quick takes and snap decisions, may we strive to be people who listen, learn, and approach others with the humility and grace they deserve. Then, others will dignify us.


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Jim McCrory

Squinting out of Plato's Cave

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Saturday, 1 Feb 2025, 10:43


"And now, I said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened: 

Behold! human beings living in an underground den..."

Plato


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Plato's Allegory of the Cave, described in his seminal work, The Republic, serves as a profound commentary on the nature of perception, enlightenment, and the pursuit of truth. This allegory, though ancient, provides a compelling framework for understanding our contemporary world, particularly in how we perceive and interact with the reality around us.

In the allegory, prisoners are confined to a dark cave, only able to see shadows cast on a wall from objects passing in front of a fire behind them. These shadows constitute the entirety of their reality. The cave, in modern contexts, can be likened to the limited perspective that each of us holds based on our upbringing, culture, and media exposure. Much like the prisoners, our understanding of the world is often a reflection—shaped by the second-hand information that media, internet algorithms, and societal norms project onto the walls of our personal experiences.

The moment a prisoner escapes the cave and sees the world for what it truly is—an array of colours, objects, and lights—he undergoes a painful but enlightening transformation. This escape is akin to the personal awakenings that occur when individuals challenge their long-held beliefs or when they are exposed to different cultures, ideologies, or scientific truths. Such awakenings can be disorienting and challenging, questioning the very foundation of what we consider to be real and true.

Consider, for instance, the impact of the internet and global connectivity. Information that once took months to disseminate is now accessible instantaneously. People are regularly exposed to viewpoints from all corners of the globe, which can challenge parochial mindsets and encourage a more comprehensive understanding of the world. However, just as the freed prisoner squints in the sunlight, so too can this flood of information be overwhelming and difficult to process, requiring time and effort to discern truth from falsehood.

Plato's allegory does not end with the escape to enlightenment but includes a return to the cave to help free the remaining prisoners. This phase is crucial and perhaps the most relevant to our modern society. Those who have seen the "real world" are compelled to return and share their knowledge; despite the resistance and ridicule they might face. In today's terms, this can be seen in the efforts of educators, activists, and thought leaders who strive to illuminate truths about climate change, social justice, religious control, and political integrity.

The hostility that the enlightened individual faces upon returning mimics the backlash often seen in social media echo chambers or partisan news cycles where new ideas or inconvenient truths are met with scepticism or outright hostility. The allegory teaches us about the responsibility those with knowledge must educate and enlighten others, even when it is met with resistance.

On a personal level, the allegory encourages self-reflection and a pursuit of deeper truths. It asks us to consider what shadows we may be watching and mistaking for reality. Are we confined by the biases of our upbringing, the limitations of our education, or the echo chambers of our social networks?

Professionally, the allegory serves as a reminder of the importance of critical thinking and openness to new ideas. In a rapidly changing world, the ability to adapt and reevaluate our understanding of the world is crucial. Just as the freed prisoner must adjust his eyes to the sunlight, so too must professionals learn to navigate an ever-evolving landscape of technological advancements and cultural shifts.

Plato's Allegory of the Cave remains a powerful tool for understanding the complexities of human perception and the difficult journey towards truth. By applying the lessons of this allegory to our daily lives, we are reminded of the importance of questioning, learning, and teaching. The shadows on the wall are many, and the light of truth is bright and sometimes harsh, but the journey out of the cave is essential for both personal growth and societal advancement. In embracing this journey, we not only transform our own lives but contribute to a broader cultural enlightenment that can lead to meaningful change.

 


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Jim McCrory

Bienveillance: A Compass for Life

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Friday, 31 Jan 2025, 10:57

You may know the story. Perhaps somewhat hackneyed,

One day, a young girl was walking along a beach, picking up starfish that had been washed ashore and throwing them back into the sea. An older man saw her and said, “There are miles and miles of beach, and hundreds of starfish. You can’t make any difference.”

The girl picked up another starfish, threw it back into the ocean, and replied, “It made a difference to that one.”



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Bienveillance: A Compass for Life

Several years ago, while embarking on my journey through an MA in Creative Writing, I made a heartfelt vow: my writings would always strive to illuminate the brighter aspects of humanity. This promise wasn't about viewing the world through a glass darkly—life, after all, is a complex tapestry of light and shadow. But I was determined that positivity would serve as my guiding principle.

Recently, during a moment of morning reflection, a particular word resonated with me: bienveillance. This elegant French term defies a neat English translation, capturing nuances beyond mere kindness or goodwill—it embodies an initiative-taking, almost vigilant commitment to the welfare of others. Observing the discord often rampant around us, I realized just how scarce this trait has become.

If granted a single wish, it would be for a world infused with this quality. Imagine a society, friends, family, and workmates that prioritizes understanding over judgment, where compassion comes naturally, and actions are taken not solely for personal gain but for the collective good. Longing for such a world isn't naivety; it is, in fact, a vital necessity.

The path to such a society doesn't begin with a desire for others to change but with a personal introspection. How do I embody bienveillance in my daily life? It's straightforward to romanticize the concept, yet quite another to live it out. Am I patient with those who test my patience? Do I offer generosity even when it's inconvenient? Can I see the best in people, even when scepticism seems a safer bet?

Through my writing, I strive to practice such qualities. Writing, I believe, have a unique power to expand our empathy, allowing us to experience lives vastly different from our own. They highlight our common humanity and the unspoken struggles we all face. Even when my narratives delve into darker themes, my aim is to uncover the resilience, love, and hope that persist.

However, writing about kindness is not sufficient—I must also enact it. Recently, I found myself hurrying past someone in obvious need of help. Caught up in my own urgency, I almost ignored the moment. Yet, a nagging thought halted me: "What kind of world do you want, and what are you actively doing to create it?" I paused, turned back, and assisted. The task was minor helping someone buy a meal for the evening.

bienveillance is not an unreachable ideal; it's realized through countless small actions. Each act of kindness, no matter how minor, contributes to a broader transformation. If we all embraced such moments, allowing kindness to interrupt our routines, imagine how transformative that could be.

I often reflect on the Biblical directive to "love your neighbour as yourself." This simple yet profound command requires deep self-reflection, presupposing that we understand and appreciate our own worth enough to know what love truly feels like. It challenges us to extend that same level of compassion outward.

Like the art of writing, this quality of goodwill to others is a skill honed over time—a lifelong pursuit rather than a destination. While I may not witness a utopia within my lifetime, I passionately believe that each gesture of kindness sends ripples through the fabric of society, often in unseen ways.

So, I commit to this: today, I will treat the next person I encounter with the care I hope for in the world. Tomorrow, I will take another step. While human kindness might seem elusive on a grand scale, it's a quality I can nurture within my own life. In doing so, I can inspire others to follow suit, one small step at a time.


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Jim McCrory

The Spoiled Child : A Prophetic Pattern

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Thursday, 30 Jan 2025, 12:15


L'enfant gâté


"But his father had never once infuriated him by asking, 

“Why did you do that?'”

– 1 Kings 1:6 (CSB).



 Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot


The following thoughts were prompted after seeing a child sitting on the supermarket floor screaming and refusing to move until her mum bought her a toy. The mother gave in. I wondered how this would unpack as the child grew up. Let’s ponder on this.

A spoiled child is one who has been overindulged, excessively coddled, or shielded from life’s natural struggles. Such a child often grows up with an expectation that the world will bend to their desires, finding it difficult to adjust to a reality that is far less accommodating. The consequences of this upbringing can be profound, affecting relationships, career prospects, and personal development well into adulthood.

Spoiling a child often begins with well-intentioned parents or parent who wish to provide comfort, protection, or privilege. They may struggle to say no, overcompensate due to guilt, or mistakenly equate love with indulgence. The child grows up in an environment where their needs and wants are met instantly, without effort or consequence. In the absence of boundaries and discipline, the child learns entitlement rather than responsibility, preference over patience, and demand over gratitude.

Though the effects of spoiling can vary, common traits emerge: an inability to manage disappointment, poor resilience, a lack of gratitude, and a distorted view of one’s own importance. These characteristics, while tolerated in childhood, become glaring liabilities in adulthood.

One of the most immediate challenges a spoiled child-turned-adult faces is in personal relationships. Friendships and romantic connections require compromise, patience, and understanding. The entitlement cultivated in childhood often manifests in unrealistic expectations of others. They may struggle with rejection, feel slighted by perceived slights, or demand attention without reciprocation. As a result, they may experience frequent conflicts, failed relationships, and an inability to form deep, meaningful connections.

Adulthood is filled with setbacks—financial difficulties, career disappointments, personal failures—but resilience is built through experiencing and overcoming hardship. A spoiled child, having been shielded from struggle, often lacks the emotional strength to cope with life’s inevitable difficulties. They may react with frustration, blame external circumstances, or retreat into avoidance. Their emotional fragility may also make them prone to anxiety or depression when life does not meet their expectations.

The workforce does not cater to entitlement. Promotions must be earned, conflicts must be resolved, and hard work is often required before recognition is given. A spoiled adult who expects immediate success or special treatment may find themselves frustrated when reality does not align with their expectations. They may struggle with authority, take criticism personally, or lack the work ethic necessary to thrive. As a result, career stagnation, frequent job changes, or professional isolation can occur.
A child who is handed everything without effort is unlikely to develop financial discipline. As an adult, they may struggle with budgeting, impulse control, or saving for the future. Instant gratification—reinforced through childhood indulgence—can lead to reckless spending, debt accumulation, or an inability to manage financial independence. Some may continue to rely on their parents well into adulthood, further delaying their personal growth.

Ironically, a spoiled child often grows into an unfulfilled adult. Having been given everything, they may find themselves disillusioned when life does not continue to deliver rewards effortlessly. Without the struggle that gives meaning to achievement, they may feel a sense of emptiness, always searching for external sources of happiness like social media rather than developing inner contentment.

Fortunately, a spoiled childhood does not have to define adulthood. Growth and change are possible, but they require self-awareness, humility, and effort. Many adults who recognize their entitlement can begin to reshape their habits—learning patience, gratitude, and perseverance. Life itself often becomes the greatest teacher, providing hard lessons that gradually reshape unrealistic expectations.

Parents, or parent, can play a role in preventing these difficulties by setting boundaries, teaching the value of effort, and allowing children to experience and navigate small struggles early on. Discipline, not indulgence, is the greater act of love, for it prepares a child to face the world with strength and wisdom.

A spoiled childhood may seem like a gift in the moment, but it can become a burden in adulthood. Without the necessary skills to navigate hardship, build relationships, and contribute meaningfully to society, a spoiled child often faces a life of disappointment and frustration. However, awareness and intentional change can reverse these effects, allowing an individual to develop the resilience, discipline, and humility needed to thrive in the real world. True growth comes not from constant comfort, but from learning to endure, adapt, and persevere.


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Jim McCrory

No One Rises for the Old Ladies Anymore

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 "We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. 

We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst."

C.S. Lewis:


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No One Rises for the Old Lady Anymore

This morning, I came across something that triggered a cascade of thoughts and connections. I’ll share more about that reading later.

In many respects, we seem to have forgotten what it means to be human. How did we arrive at this point? The explanation is both complex and straightforward. First came the Enlightenment, followed by the Industrial Revolution. Meanwhile, materialism and a naturalistic worldview took hold, glorifying the notion of the autonomous "I."

When I was young, it was unthinkable for an elderly person to stand on a train while younger people sat. That inherent sense of decency has eroded over time.

It doesn't take long for people in such an environment to dismiss the idea of a creator, which, though irrational, paves the way for a life free from divine accountability—at least in this life.

Yet, even as we dismantle every barrier to freedom, we behave as though we inhabit a planet designed with wisdom. Consider objective morality. If someone cuts in line at the supermarket, our instinct is to react vehemently. We might even recount the incident later, expressing outrage over the perceived injustice.

Or consider another scenario: you take an exam, confident in your performance, yet the teacher awards you only 5%. Outraged, you challenge the grade, only to hear, "I don't like you, so I marked you down." Anywhere in the world, this would be seen as an injustice—not because we decree it, but because we possess an innate sense of right and wrong.

Thus, through life, like trains on parallel tracks, runs a dual awareness: a sense of justice and a superficial belief in the absence of God.

Now, let us consider the consequences of this dichotomy. The Bible documents several eras similar to our own. This morning, as I read Isaiah 9, verses 17 and 18 struck a chord:

“Even now the Lord takes no joy in a single one, not even the young.

Mercy has run out for even those without powerthe widows and orphans.

For every single person is at fault and behaves badly.

No one thinks or acts as God would have them do.

Every mouth utters foolishness like a wildfire, out of control.”

 (The Voice Bible).

These sobering words, penned eight centuries before the birth of Christ, remind us that throughout history, humanity has often descended to debased levels—and God has responded.

 

Scripture taken from The Voice™. Copyright © 2012 by Ecclesia Bible Society. Used by permission. All rights reserved.


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Jim McCrory

"In the Good Old Summertime"

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"There's a time each year that we always hold dear, good old summer time; 

with the birds and the tree's and sweet scented breezes, 

good old summer time, When your day's work is over then you are in clover, 

and life is one beautiful rhyme, No trouble annoying, each one is enjoying,

 the good old summer time."


"In the Good Old Summertime" by  by Ren Shields



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When I was in my early teens, I would spend summer on a nearby Scottish Island where I was always happy to help the farmer bring in the harvest whether it be wheat, barley or hay. It was hard work but always brought a sense of joy.

Now when I see images of a harvest or paintings like Bruegel's The Harvesters, they resonate with a deep, almost archetypal connection to the land and the cycles of nature.

Pieter Bruegel the Elder | The Harvesters | The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Harvest time historically signifies abundance, completion, and the culmination of months of labour and care. It's a moment of satisfaction and celebration, where the fruits of hard work are finally realized, and communities come together in gratitude and festivity.

In artistic representations like Bruegel's, there’s also a rich narrative element that speaks to these themes. Paintings of harvest scenes often depict not just the act of harvesting but also the communal aspect—people working together, sharing meals, and resting amidst the fields. This can evoke feelings of connection to others and to the rhythms of nature, reminding us of the fundamental human experiences of work, rest, and nourishment.

Additionally, harvest imagery can symbolize broader themes of reap what you sow, reflecting on personal growth and the results of one's efforts over time. This can make such art deeply personal and reflective, stirring feelings tied to one’s own experiences of effort, reward, and the passage of seasons in life. Does this connection to the harvest resonate with your own experiences or feelings?

 


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A letter To the Young and Lonely

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"People want to be loved; failing that, admired...They want to evoke some sort of sentiment. 

The soul shudders before oblivion and seeks connection at any price."

— Hjalmar Söderberg, Doctor Glas




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I was hospitalized a while ago and there was a younger man in the bed opposite mine who often spoke on the phone, visibly distressed. At the heart of his issues was his frustration at not getting his own way. He desired more love and affection from those around him, despite being abusive towards them.

Considering this, I offered him a piece of wise verse. His immediate response was, “I’m going to share this.”


       “Whoa,” I said, “Why not reflect on it first?”

       “Sure, after,” he replied. But, he never did.


This got me thinking. He was putting himself in a self-contained loneliness because of the way he was treating others and now he was shifting to this instant sharing to find some human connection albeit artificial.

In this digital age, where social media reigns supreme, it’s all too easy to fall into the habit of sharing content rapidly for quick likes and fleeting interactions. This instant gratification, while exhilarating, often comes at the cost of deeper, more meaningful connections. I urge you, especially the younger generation, to consider a more enriching path—one that prioritizes genuine human contact over digital immediacy.

Social media platforms promise connectivity; indeed, they offer a kind of interaction that can feel immensely rewarding. Receiving likes, comments, and shares can seem like valid social exchanges, but these are often shallow substitutes for real conversation and connection. They provide a dopamine rush, a quick hit of pleasure, but they lack the staying power and emotional depth of face-to-face interactions. These digital interactions, though numerous, are fleeting and can leave us feeling empty and craving more substantive exchanges.

Contrast the quick interactions of social media with the profound satisfaction that comes from in-person conversations. Engaging with someone face-to-face allows for the expression of empathy, the reading of emotional cues, and the building of trust and understanding elements that are often lost in translation online. Real-world interactions also offer opportunities for deeper discussions that can challenge our thinking and stimulate personal growth.

Just think about the last time you were out with friends. Perhaps walking, stopping for lunch and enjoying an enriching day. Every time you think of that occasion, a film unpacks in your head giving you a warm glow; a hygge feeling. You don’t get that on social media.

To shift away from the ephemeral nature of digital interactions, consider immersing yourself in activities that require your physical presence. Joining a night class or a workshop not only broadens your knowledge but also puts you in a room with like-minded individuals who share your interests. Whether it’s learning a new language, taking up pottery, or studying photography, these classes offer a dual benefit: acquiring a new skill and connecting with others on a meaningful level.

Similarly, participating in local clubs or community groups can foster a sense of belonging and provide a network of support that social media cannot replicate. From book clubs to hiking groups, the options are endless. These groups do more than just share hobbies; they share life experiences, support each other in times of need, and celebrate together in moments of joy.

Volunteering for a cause you are passionate about can be especially rewarding. It connects you with people across diverse backgrounds and generations, offering perspectives that might never crop up on your social media feed. These interactions not only help build a better community but also imbue your life with a sense of purpose and fulfilment that fleeting online interactions often fail to deliver.

Embracing more face-to-face interactions doesn’t mean you must abandon digital spaces entirely. Social media can be a powerful tool for staying connected with distant friends and family. However, balancing these digital interactions with substantial real-world engagements can lead to a more fulfilling life. This balance allows you to enjoy the benefits of technology without becoming dependent on it for social fulfilment.

As we navigate this digital world, let’s not forget the power and depth of real human connections. I encourage you to step beyond your digital comfort zone and explore the enriching experiences that real-world interactions can offer. In doing so, you may find that the deepest joys and most enduring satisfactions come from the people you meet and the relationships you nurture away from the glow of a screen.

However, there is something else you can do: ask God for help. The scripture reads "If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.” Matthew 21:22 (BSB). After praying, work in harmony with the prayer. Get out there where God can open up some door for you.



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A Compassionate Judge

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"Go and do likewise."

Luke 10:37



I woke early this morning to catch a train to London, but with the 100 km/h winds from the day before, all trains and public transport were cancelled due to trees collapsing everywhere. By 2 pm, I was brain-dead from tiredness. So, I decided to sloth it in front of the YouTube rabbit hole and let the algorithms decide for me which clips I would embrace. First up was a Guinea pig lying on a blanket above a piano, sleepy-eyed, and absorbing Debussy. Next, I was moved by a high school graduation, resisting the urge to clap out of respect for a sound-sensitive student with autism. 


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Then I was transported into the courtroom of Rhode Island Judge, Frank Caprio. In the heart of Providence, Rhode Island, amidst the Italian American enclave of Federal Hill, Judge Frank Caprio's story begins with the humblest of origins. His father, Antonio, a steadfast fruit peddler and milkman, embodied the ethic of challenging work, and his mother, Filomena, a nurturing presence as a stay-at-home mother. This backdrop of familial dedication and modesty profoundly influenced Frank in his early years, where he earned pocket money as a shoe-shine boy.

Frank's educational journey took him to the halls of Suffolk University School of Law in Boston, where, amid the rigors of legal studies, he also taught and juggled various jobs, a testament to his indefatigable spirit. Since 1985, he has served in the municipal court where his approach—marked by empathy and an unwavering respect for the human spirit—has captured the hearts of people around the world.

It was his unique, empathetic approach to adjudication that propelled him into the national spotlight, with his proceedings on the show "Caught in Providence" becoming a conduit for viral internet fame. Here, viewers found a judge who prioritized understanding over judgment, compassion over censure—principles not often spotlighted in the judicial world.

For those drawn to the life and work of Judge Caprio, his story can be further explored through his official website or through episodes of "Caught in Providence," where his judicial philosophy plays out in real-time, offering a window into a career punctuated by genuine care and integrity—a beacon of how law, when wielded with humanity, can be a profound force for good.

I was deeply moved by his mercy and compassion. Having spent many years in a religious organization that failed to be embedded in mercy and compassion, I watched all this with regret. Regret because compassion and mercy are hallmarks of Christianity.

But there is a bigger picture to be absorbed in the example of Judge Frank Caprio. What makes three million subscribers subscribe to the channel "Caught in Providence"? The love of mercy and compassion.

We humans are all made in God’s image; some move away from that light, and some bend towards the arc of compassion. Jesus reflected that Godly quality in life and his teaching. Consider the woman at the well, the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal son, and the centurion’s servant’s child.

We don’t have the God-given powers that Jesus had, but we do have the power of compassion and mercy.

One day, a lawyer came to test Jesus by asking what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus turned the question back to the lawyer, who answered correctly with the command to "love God" and "love your neighbor as yourself." Wanting to justify himself, the lawyer asked, "And who is my neighbor?" In response, Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan:

A man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho was attacked by robbers who stripped him, beat him, and left him half dead. A priest and then a Levite passed by, but both avoided the man by crossing to the other side of the road. Then a Samaritan came along. Despite Samaritans and Jews despising each other, the Samaritan was moved with compassion. He bandaged the man’s wounds, using his own oil and wine as antiseptics, and placed the man on his own donkey. He took him to an inn and cared for him overnight. The next day, he paid the innkeeper two denarii and promised to cover any additional costs on his return journey.

After telling the story, Jesus asked the lawyer, "Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?" The lawyer replied, "The one who had mercy on him." Jesus then said, "Go and do likewise."

This parable emphasizes that compassion should transcend social boundaries and prejudices, and that to "love your neighbor" means to act with mercy and kindness to anyone in need.

I find those words of Jesus moving. First because we are called to act likewise. And second, finally of life, we will find ourselves before a compassionate judge.

Luke 10:25-37 (BSB).


Caught In Providence - YouTube








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Gökotta — The Simple Riches of Dawn

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Saturday, 25 Jan 2025, 10:49

"Give me neither poverty nor riches" 

Proverbs 30:8 (KJV).


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"I felt once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, 

a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. Nothing else."

Kazantzakis



Scotland has been hit by a devastating storm and my train to London was cancelled. We had to cancel time with friends and other arrangements. It's at times like this I am nostalgic for spring. 

 In the cool, quiet hours of spring dawn, the world reveals itself not through grand gestures but through humble offerings. On the shores of Loch Lomond, where the gentle lap of the water caresses the pebbles, happiness unfolds in its purest form. It isn’t clad in opulence nor dressed in the finery of wealth, but in the simple, earnest garb of nature’s own making.

Proverbs remind us, "Give me neither poverty nor riches," a plea for the middle ground where life’s true essence is found—not in the excess of things but in their meaningfulness. The philosophy that happiness is a "frugal thing" is timeless, and on a quiet morning by Loch Lomond, it resonates with profound clarity. A cup of coffee, a humble meal of smoked bacon nestled in Greek flatbread—these are not mere sustenance, but the ingredients of a joyful simplicity.

The Swedish notion of gökotta—rising early to embrace the dawn—complements this meditative joy. It isn’t just the act of waking but the purpose behind it: to savour the stillness, to absorb the unfolding day, to celebrate the quiet majesty of life’s simple pleasures. Here, amidst the symphony of bird song, the world slumbers on, unaware of the spectacle of the sunrise, the aroma of fresh coffee, and the warmth of a small fire.

In this setting, we find a truth as old as time itself—that happiness does not demand conditions. It thrives under the open sky, grows in the cool breeze of the morning, and exists wherever we choose to notice it. The rich may travel the high roads, seeking happiness in noise and speed, but on the low road, by the soothing tides of Loch Lomond, happiness finds us, unbidden and genuine.

As we face each day, let us seek not the grandeur of the extraordinary, but the beauty of the ordinary. For in these moments, as Kazantzakis reminds us, lies the profound, frugal nature of happiness. Let us cherish the simple and the serene, for these are the true riches that life affords, free from the burdens of stress, anxiety, or pain.


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A Time to Speak Up: On Assertiveness

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"This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day.

Thou canst not then be false to any man."

William Shakespeare (from 'Hamlet'):



Whilst 100 km winds where causing havoc on Scotland's west coast this morning, my wife and I where reading the UCB word for today. We are not members of any religion but I like the thoughtful way the writer of the daily words get us thinking. We focused on the words, "a time to be silent and a time to speak" from Ecclesiastes 3:7. Sometimes in life we can be drowned out by the noise of family, workmates and friends and we become victims of some selfish pecking order. So, in these cases, there's a time to speak.


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Finding Your Voice: The Courage to Stand Alone

Imagine yourself in a room bustling with conversation, a tapestry of voices each weaving their own narrative. You're there too, holding a truth you yearn to voice, but hesitation clasps your words. This is a familiar scene for many, especially those who, like you, once found themselves within a community where conformity overshadowed personal conviction. It’s not just about speaking up; it’s about breaking free from the fear that silences your true self.

Your journey might remind you of Joshua from the Bible, who stood before choices laid by tradition and the unknown, and declared, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord" (Joshua 24:15). There's profound courage in choosing a path aligned with your deepest truths, especially when it means parting ways with the familiar. Like leaving a religion that no longer resonates with your understanding of the gospels, this decision can be both liberating and isolating. It requires you to assert who you are and what you stand for, even at the cost of losing friends, because living inauthentically is a price too steep to pay.

Assertiveness is not about dominating conversations or diminishing others but recognizing your own voice as valid and vital. Perhaps you were taught that being agreeable was the cornerstone of kindness, or maybe your opinions seemed less important when voiced, leading you to silence them to avoid discord. These experiences, though stifling, are not uncommon. They skew our perception, making us believe that to be assertive is to be confrontational. However, assertiveness is really about balance—honouring your feelings while respecting those of others.

Start small. Notice moments when discomfort stirs within you, signalling that your boundaries are being tested. If a friend’s words sting, resist the urge to gloss over your hurt. Instead, articulate your feelings with a simple, "That upset me," or "I disagree," allowing you to tread a new path of honesty and self-respect. It might feel like walking on a tightrope at first, wobbly and uncertain, but each step fortifies your resolve.

In asserting yourself, you’re not looking to win an argument but to represent your perspective with integrity. It’s not aggression but clarity you’re after, like when someone jumps the queue and you assert, "Excuse me, I was next." Such moments are exercises in self-advocacy, where your demeanour—your upright stance, steady gaze, and clear voice—speaks of newfound confidence.

This assertiveness extends to personal relationships, where the stakes often feel higher. Telling a friend, "Let’s check our schedules before making plans," or informing a relative, "I’m not comfortable with this," are ways of setting boundaries that protect your emotional space. These statements are acts of self-care, affirming that your needs are important and deserving of respect.

And remember, assertiveness is a skill honed through practice and persistence. You might falter, your voice might falter, but each attempt is a building block in constructing a self-assured you. The journey of finding your voice is fraught with challenges and discomfort, but each step forward is a declaration that you matter.

Your voice—tempered with kindness, strengthened by truth—can reshape your world. It’s not about volume but value; not about conflict but about establishing a presence that honours your individuality. As you continue to navigate the complexities of speaking your truth, take heart in knowing that each word spoken in authenticity is a testament to your growth.

So, the next time you find yourself hesitating, take a deep breath and embrace the power of your voice. Assertiveness isn't just about speaking; it’s about being heard. It's about transforming silence into dialogue, fear into courage, and isolation into a story of brave self-discovery. In the symphony of life, your voice has a crucial part to play. Let it sing with the fullness of who you are. Because indeed, you do matter.


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When Someone Thinks the Worst of You: Help Them

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Thursday, 23 Jan 2025, 11:02


"I swear to you gentlemen, that to be overly conscious

 is a sickness,  a real thorough sickness."      

        (Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment).

(The words of Raskolnikov, this line delves into the novel’s exploration of hyper-awareness and its psychological impacts, which Raskolnikov experiences acutely.)




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In the shadowed corners of our relationships, a peculiar pain surfaces when a friend, family member, or workmate consistently perceives us not as we are, but through a distorted, darkened lens. This recurring misjudgement can shake the very foundations of our self-image and rattle the windows of our social connections, leaving us bewildered and seeking solace and clarity. To navigate these turbulent waters, we can turn to the structured disciplines of science and the rich narratives of literature, each offering unique insights and pathways to understanding.

Psychologically, when someone always thinks the worst of us, it might reflect more about their mental processes than our actions or character. Cognitive biases and defence mechanisms, prevalent in human psychology, often twist our interactions in subtle yet profound ways. Negative bias, a cognitive skew where individuals disproportionately focus on adverse elements over positive ones, can paint interactions with strokes of pessimism and doubt. These biases colour their perception, leading them to expect failure, disappointment, or deceit, even without corroborative evidence.

Compounding this is the mechanism of projection. Projection is a psychological defence where individuals attribute their undesirable feelings, thoughts, or traits onto another person. For example, a workmate who frequently accuses others of dishonesty might be grappling with their own integrity issues. They project these fears and doubts onto those around them, unwittingly casting those in their circle as characters in the drama of their internal conflicts. Recognizing these patterns can be the first step toward addressing them, often requiring open dialogue and sometimes the guidance of a professional to untangle the roots of these perceptions.

The rich landscapes of literature offer profound insights into the human condition, illustrating how personal turmoil can distort one’s view of others. Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment provides a striking exploration of this phenomenon through the character of Raskolnikov. Plagued by paranoia and moral confusion, Raskolnikov embodies the extremities of psychological distress. His intense internal conflicts lead him to project his anxieties and guilt onto those around him, interpreting their actions through the murky filter of his suspicions. Like many of us, Raskolnikov's reality is filtered through layers of fear, doubt, and guilt, demonstrating how easily one can misinterpret others when grappling with inner turmoil.

This narrative mirror shows us that sometimes, the negativity we perceive from others is not a reflection of our reality but a shadow of their struggles and fears. It underscores the importance of empathy and understanding, suggesting that harsh judgments may stem from their battles, often hidden beneath the surface of everyday interactions.

Understanding these psychological and literary insights arms us with tools not only for personal resilience but for compassionate interaction. When we recognize that negative perceptions may be influenced by cognitive biases or personal distress, we can approach them with empathy rather than defensiveness. Initiating open, honest conversations can help clarify misunderstandings and lead them to reflect on their perceptions and consider seeking help if needed.

Moreover, setting boundaries is crucial. Someone once asked me why I distance myself from certain people and it is self preservation. While empathy is important, protecting one's mental and emotional health should not be overlooked. If the behaviour becomes toxic, it may be necessary to distance oneself or redefine the terms of the relationship.

In confronting the pain of being misjudged, we are invited not only to defend our truth but to delve into the deeper currents of human interaction, where understanding and compassion can illuminate the darkest of perceptions. This journey, though fraught with challenges, holds the promise of deeper wisdom and more authentic connections, both with others and with ourselves.


"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." Ephesians 4:29 (NIV):






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Who Moves the Universe Around?

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Wednesday, 22 Jan 2025, 09:38


 "Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades
or loosen the belt of Orion?
Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons 
or lead out the Bear  and her cubs?
Do you know the laws of the heavens?
Can you set their dominion over the earth?"
Job 31 (BSB).


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 "God is the first mover, Himself unmoved."

Thomas Aquinas 


Imagine you’re sitting in a park, watching someone roll a ball down a hill. You know that the ball didn’t start rolling by itself—someone had to give it a push. That’s a simple way to understand what Thomas Aquinas was talking about when he explained his idea of motion. He wasn’t just talking about things physically moving, though; he was talking about any kind of change, like how a fire makes a piece of wood hot or how a seed grows into a tree. In every case, something causes the change.

Aquinas believed that nothing could change or move by itself. For example, a stone won’t just decide to roll on its own, and a fire won’t just appear out of nowhere to heat a piece of wood. Everything in the world needs something else to get it going. But here’s the big question: if everything is moved or changed by something else, what started it all? If you keep tracing back through all the causes—like following a chain of dominoes—you eventually have to reach the beginning. If there wasn’t a first cause, then nothing would have started moving or changing in the first place.

This is where Aquinas said there must be something, or someone, who started everything but wasn’t started by anything else. He called this the “first mover,” and he believed this is God. God, he said, doesn’t need anyone or anything to make Him exist. He’s eternal, unchanging, and the reason why anything else exists at all. Without this first mover, the whole chain of causes and effects we see around us wouldn’t make sense.

Think of it like a line of falling dominoes. The last domino only falls because the one before it tipped over. And that one only tipped over because the one before it did. But if there was no one to push the very first domino, none of them would fall. For Aquinas, God is like that person who gives the first push—He gets everything started.

Now, some people don’t agree with this idea. They might say, “What if the chain of causes and effects has always existed? What if there’s no need for a first mover at all?” Others think that science, like the Big Bang theory, might explain how everything started without needing God. But Aquinas believed that no matter what science discovers, there still has to be something that explains why anything exists at all. For him, that something was God.

I think this is such an interesting idea to think about, especially when you look at the world and wonder why it’s here. For Aquinas, it all came back to God being the source of everything. He’s the one who set it all in motion, the one who keeps it all going, and the one who gives it meaning. It’s like looking at a beautiful painting—once you realize someone painted it, you can start to appreciate not just the painting but also the artist who made it. That’s what Aquinas wanted people to understand: the world is like a masterpiece, and God is the artist behind it all.

So, the next time you see something moving, growing, or changing, think about how it all started. It might just lead you to some big questions about life, the universe, and who made it all happen. And those are some of the best questions to ask.

Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades
or loosen the belt of Orion?
Can you bring forth the constellations in their seasons 
or lead out the Bear  and her cubs?
Do you know the laws of the heavens?
Can you set their dominion over the earth?
Job 31

 


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Desert Island Tracks: Part Two

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Tuesday, 21 Jan 2025, 10:48

 

"Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, 

flight to the imagination, and life to everything."

Plato



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One of the joys that my wife and I share is lying in the dark listening to Classic FM. One of the pieces that takes me to a place I know not is Miserere by Gregorio Allegri. When I listen to, say, music from the seventies or eighties, it takes me to a place I know. I recall feeling low one Christmas Eve, sitting with a beer in Glasgow’s city centre after Christmas shopping when “If You Leave Me Now” came on the jukebox. Every time I hear it now; I’m back in that bar when I was seventeen.

One evening I couldn’t sleep; it was about four a.m. I turned the TV on and there they were, the Muppets singing “Shiny Happy People.” Now, when I hear it on the radio, it takes me back to that sleepless night.

But Miserere by Gregorio Allegri takes me to a mysterious place where there is happiness, contentment, and that mysterious duende. I wonder, dear reader, where does it take you?

Gregorio ALLEGRI - Miserere Mei, Deus (+ Lyrics / OXFORD, Choir of New College)

I can imagine that as the years pass on a desert island, immense loneliness could set in, and Miserere would transport me to that special place.

I was living in Stavanger, Norway, in 1999. My boss had given us a lovely two-bedroom cabin with panoramic windows overlooking the water. One evening, I was alone, and an other worldly piece of music came on the radio. If you could match the way I was feeling as the sun cast its golden-hour light on the water, this ethereal piece championed it: Enigma’s “Return to Innocence.” Every time I hear it; I’m alone in that cabin watching the sun go down.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rk_sAHh9s08&t=5s


Who knows, I might never get home, but I would always want to remember my homeland as I sit there by my beach fire, old and grey, weathered by the sun. One piece that would always take me home is Highland Cathedral. Perhaps Lauren would allow me to have the video that accompanies the music to remind me of the paths I trod on those spring and summer days.

The piece was composed by two German composers. The tune symbolizes the historic and emotional ties between Scotland and those of Scottish heritage worldwide. The fact that it was composed by Germans adds a fascinating layer to its history, illustrating the universal appeal and adaptability of Celtic musical styles. This version is performed by the Highland Cathedral and when it hits the crescendo, it engenders hope—the hope of returning home one day.

Highland Cathedral Bagpipes HD


One of my favourite books as a child was Robinson Crusoe. I believe there is no other conclusion in a book that promises hope more. Here is the last paragraph from a public domain copy:

"As for myself, I returned to England, where, notwithstanding all the miseries I had suffered, I was still resolved not to go on board a ship again; but, like a true repenting prodigal, to settle at home and repent of all my follies; and, by a close application to trade and commerce, to get something honestly, and make a new score. And if ever I should be disposed to travel thither again, and to see the place where I first was cast on shore, and had made my abode for so many years without human society, or to seek after the poor remains of my unfortunate companions, I left directions with my successors, the Trustees of the Plantation, that the proper measures might be taken for it, and so I left it."

I remember reading this and feeling so happy for him that he managed to leave the desert island after 28 years.

It was Emily Dickenson who wrote a phrase in her poem that read "Hope is the thing with feathers" The poem describes hope as a bird that perches in the soul and sings continuously, never asking for anything even in the hardest times. Crusoe was like that bird. He recognised God in his dilemma albeit fiction. But his attitude impressed me albeit it was the writer, Daniel Defoe. And hope would define me as a sat on that beach sure I would arrive home one day.


What song would define that arrival? I had been a Runrig fan from my youth. For some reason although a lowlander, I felt a pull to the Highlands, particularly the Western Isles. That puzzle intrigued me throughout life. These years I had my DNA heritage analysed and discovered my roots are firmly in the Celtic grounds and my father’s line takes me to The Island of Islay on Scotland’s west coast. Perhaps some strand in my DNA was calling me.

In 1988 Runrig recorded Going Home. No other song would welcome me back home that the words and emotion that the songwriters and musicians embedded in that song. I’m home.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2tltFlmca-U&t=42s


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Jim McCrory

Desert Island Tracks : Part One

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Monday, 20 Jan 2025, 13:18


"Where words fail, music speaks." — Hans Christian Andersen



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Desert Island Tracks Part One

I've never been a guest on the BBC's "Desert Island Discs," and unless I win the Nobel Prize for writing, it seems unlikely I will be. However, this is how it goes, Lauren Laverne, the Yorkshire lass with the sweet voice chats with famous writers, actors, scientists, and other luminaries. Each guest is asked to choose eight tracks of music, a book, and a luxury item, imagining their life marooned on a desert island. The music selections are particularly revealing, often tied deeply to the guest's personal story.

My thought with the BBC—shared by many, I presume—is that the show could also celebrate the unsung heroes among us. Imagine featuring the lad who sits outside Marks and Spencer’s, collecting coins for a hostel  bed for the night; or the elderly couple I met who visit Scotland from Arkansas every year and walk Scotland’s West Highland Way; or the Israeli doctor I met walking up  Goat Fell to camp under the stars with his family, or  the displaced family from Gaza who launched a thriving coffee shop on a Scottish isle. Their extraordinary stories deserve a platform too. If you agree, why not suggest to the BBC the inclusion of these inspiring, ordinary individuals with extraordinary stories?

If by some twist of fate, I were to be invited, rest assured, my music selections are already decided—prepared over many years of thoughtful consideration. For instance, during my undergraduate studies in English literature, we explored James Joyce's Dubliners. In the story "Eveline," she reminisces about the song "Marble Halls" from the opera The Bohemian Girl by Michael William Balfe, which symbolizes her dreams of escape and the poignancy of her past. Discovering Enya’s rendition on YouTube, the song immediately gave me goosebumps. After sharing it with a friend, who then forwarded it to his wife at work, she was moved to tears. Many on YouTube have echoed that it might be the most beautiful song ever crafted.

ENYA MARBLE HALLS

Years later, while listening to Paul Gambaccini on Radio 2, a familiar tune was introduced as a wonderful focal performance.  Sceptical yet intrigued, I gave it my full attention. It was Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush performing "Don’t Give Up." Once again, I was enveloped by the profound impact of the music, a lesson in how powerful a suggestion from a knowledgeable source can be.

Peter Gabriel - Don't Give Up (ft. Kate Bush)

Stranded on a desert island, one would inevitably experience both trials and joys. I envision the delight of watching a pod of dolphins leap and twirl against a backdrop of golden sands. Such a sight would stir my soul, compelling me to dance along the shoreline. And what better soundtrack for this scene than ABBA's "Chiquitita"? A song brimming with hope, it would be the perfect accompaniment to such a display of grace and freedom.

ABBA - Chiquitita (Official Music Video)

My wife is Filipino, so I would miss her if I was stranded, so here are a wonderful Filipino family doing a cover of the Abba song which would remind me of my wife waiting on some coastline hoping I would return,

CHIQUITITA_(abba) Acoustic Trio cover Father & Kids @FRANZRhythm


Stay tuned for Part Two of Desert Island tomorrow.

 

 

 


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Jim McCrory

Under Northern Skies: The Enduring Bonds of Sambovikt"

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Recently, while conversing with a contractor working in my home, we discovered a poignant commonality: both of us had lost our parents during our teenage years. As we shared our stories, it became evident that the impact of such loss deepens with age.


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This exchange transported me back to a chilly evening in the mid-90s on the Princess of Scandinavia, sailing from Newcastle to Gothenburg. To clear my head from the evening's vodka, I ascended to the top deck. The northern sky, a clear vault peppered with stars, offered a silent spectacle just for me—a view never to be replicated. In that vast, quiet expanse, I felt a kinship with Ingmar Bergman, who described in The Magic Lantern his own battles with inner demons. Overwhelmed and feeling eternally trapped, I thought of my adopted father, lost to me at age twelve. My heart whispered a verse:


Meet me amidst the ocean,

Under my Northern sky,

To the light of constellations,

As our restless stars pass by.


This reflective moment underscores why I cherish the Swedish concept of 'sambovikt'—a term that captures the essence of human connection. It highlights a stark reality: too many children grow up in the shadow of an absent parent. I hold deep empathy for the pain these children endure and will continue to face.

True happiness, I've come to realize, stems from stable, long-term, trusting relationships. This foundation is crucial not just for couples, but profoundly affects the children they raise. A father's closure of eyes when I was just twelve left a void of guidance, of bedtime stories that spark the imagination—stories like David Copperfield, Oliver Twist, and Pinocchio. While many single parents admirably juggle the dual burdens of household and heartache, the absence of a parental figure often leaves children grappling with a pervasive loneliness and a sense that something integral is missing from their lives.

Children flourish under the praise of both parents, just as they grow from constructive feedback. Without this balanced presence, they often carry a burden of unresolved yearning.

In pondering 'sambovikt,' I am reminded that our quest for meaning and connection is deeply tied to these foundational relationships. It is in these bonds that we find the deepest echoes of what it means to be human.


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Jim McCrory

Cancer and Parting Scotland, My Homeland

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Saturday, 18 Jan 2025, 10:33

 Some years ago, my sister was sightseeing in Scotland. She saw an old man wiping tears from his eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Not really," he replied, "I'm looking at all this beauty and realize I won't live much longer to enjoy it."

The man was experiencing an existential crisis, seemingly resigned to the notion that death is final.



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It’s a strange set of affairs; Like the tearful old man, I love  to walk and explore nature in the fine places in Scotland that keep me feeling young. I’m a bit overweight but healthy and full of joie de vivre. There are so many places yet undiscovered. I haven’t been to the Outer Hebrides or north of Inverness. I have visited the Island of Islay on Scotland’s west coast, but with recent DNA connections revealing ties there, I need to return with fresh eyes. Yet, the doors are closing.

Just over a year ago, I underwent a series of medical tests. At the conclusion, I was invited in to discuss the results. I received unwelcome news: cells that had served me faithfully had turned rogue, causing a rebellion in my prostate, pancreas, and liver.

The consultant looked puzzled and said, "You seem very bravado about this?"

"Oh, I get all this," I replied. "But there’s a young man inside me who has walked with me all my life, I will still be around after I close my eyes"

I ask you, the reader—and I’m sure you know—but do you also feel that younger self with you throughout your life? This inner presence becomes more prominent as we age. May I share my thoughts on this?

Centuries ago, a wise man wrote the following:

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men…

Those words are from Ecclesiastes 3:11 from The Berean Standard Bible and worded by  wise King Solomon speaks of a wisdom he received from God as a gift for faithfulness as a boy.

There are many theories out there I’m sure were the wise of this age speculate why I have a young man in my head and why eternity lives within, but no one, absolutely no one has any scientific evidence for why we have a rich inner lives dancing in our brains. Sure, they have unzipped the skull countless times, and they put it in jars and slice it like spam and study it under all their microscopic kits, but they only have theories, and theories come and go.

We have rich inner lives because we were built for eternity.

That morning, I was going to see the consultant, my wife and I, read Psalm 91:1,

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High

will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.”

 

After reading it, I said to my wife, “We are going to receive bad news today.” God was forewarning me before I got the results.

God has always spoke to us, but at certain times, there is that special voice that cannot be coincidence. No, there are 31,000 verses in the Bible, what’s the chances of opening the scriptures and that verse is staring at you? No, God spoke to us personally.

When Jesus said, You will be with me in Paradise, will it be better than the landscape I see before me in Scotland? Surely, without a shadow of a doubt.


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Être bien dans sa peau: Embracing Imperfection

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Saturday, 18 Jan 2025, 09:39




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I've often struggled with feeling at ease in my own skin when younger. Why not , when I know I am far from perfect? I don't strive to impress anyone; instead, I try to live authentically, even if it means facing criticism. In those moments, I find solace in prayer, seeking forgiveness for perhaps occupying too much space in someone's mind.

Identity is a complex dance of perception—how we see ourselves and how others choose to see us, often shaped by their limited understandings. This challenge is particularly stark when encountering uninformed or prejudiced views. For those individuals, I offer prayers, hoping for enlightenment and understanding on their path as well as mine.

Perfection is not something I claim. Who among us can? Over the years, as I've aged, I've become acutely aware of my flaws and the times I've fallen short. Memories of moments when I've hurt others—some as far back as fifty years ago—haunt me occasionally. Just recently, I remembered someone I wronged decades ago. Unable to make amends personally, I asked a mutual friend to convey my apologies. That act, coupled with prayers for forgiveness, is how I attempt to make peace with my past errors within this imperfect body.

Life continually throws curveballs, yet I find a way to accept them, learning to be comfortable with the imperfections that define my human experience. This acceptance reminds me of a parable about two men praying at a wall. One boasted of his virtues— a trait often found in religious people. viewing others as lesser beings. 

The other, recognizing his own failings, simply asked for mercy for his sins. The contrast between the two—the self-satisfied and the self-aware—illustrates the peace that comes from embracing one's imperfections rather than denying them.

In acknowledging my flaws and seeking forgiveness, not only from others but from God, I find true comfort in my own skin, not because I am flawless, but because I am earnest in my journey towards betterment.

“Two men went up to the temple to pray. One was a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.  The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed, ‘God, I thank You that I am not like the other men—swindlers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and pay tithes of all that I acquire.’

But the tax collector stood at a distance, unwilling even to lift up his eyes to heaven. Instead, he beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner!’  I tell you, this man, rather than the Pharisee, went home justified. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

Luke 18: 9-14.


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Jim McCrory

How Is Your Congregation Handling Your Sin?

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Tuesday, 21 Jan 2025, 18:45


"If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the assembly. 

If he refuses to hear the assembly also, 

let him be to you as a Gentile or a tax collector."

Matthew 18:17 (WEB).


"If he refuses to hear them, appeal to the Church

and if he refuses to hear even the Church, 

regard him just as you regard a Gentile or a tax-gatherer."

Matthew 18:17 (Weymouth New Testament).



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Chemla and Compassion: Rediscovering Mercy in Modern Christianity


We have come a long way in Christian congregations in dealing with sin, or, have we?  In reflecting on mercy, the Aramaic word Chemla provides a beautiful foundation. This ancient term from Talmudic texts embodies a compassionate kindness that flows not from obligation but from pure benevolence. It’s mercy extended not based on merit but as a gift, a gesture rooted in a generosity that goes beyond what is earned. In a world quick to judge and condemn, Chemla reminds us of the value in sparing judgment and offering kindness to those who may not “deserve” it. This sense of undeserved compassion finds its echo in the teachings of Jesus, especially in Matthew 18, where he lays out a path for dealing with interpersonal offenses—a path that focuses not on retribution but on restoration.

Matthew 18 emphasizes the unique worth of each person, particularly when they are in a vulnerable position. Jesus begins by stressing a deep responsibility to protect others from harm. In verse 6, he warns of the gravity of causing someone to stumble, illustrating the serious duty we hold to uphold one another’s well-being. This responsibility extends not only to protecting others from physical harm but from the emotional and spiritual damage that harsh treatment or judgment can inflict.

When Jesus addresses how to handle wrongdoing, he diverges sharply from the “cancel culture” or public humiliation we often see today in the press and media. Rather than exposing faults in a public forum, Jesus teaches us to approach the individual privately in verse 15. This private meeting is an act of compassion; it respects the person’s dignity and offers them a chance for redemption without the weight of public disgrace. It’s a step grounded in mercy, meant to open the door for healing and reconciliation.

If this first private attempt fails to bring understanding, Jesus offers a next step that is, again, full of gentleness: involving one or two other people. This approach is not intended to coerce or shame but to bring supportive witnesses, creating a space where understanding can grow without escalating tension or fostering resentment. The goal remains restoration, with all parties working together to preserve the individual’s dignity and support them in finding their way back. This approach stands in stark contrast to religious practices that employ harsh, procedural punishments. 

There’s something uniquely powerful in this way of handling sin that resists judgmental tendencies. Unlike religious methods that may rely on public penance or social isolation to correct, the pathway Jesus outlines is marked by patience and a commitment to mercy. Forgiveness, he reminds us, is not to be limited. In his conversation with Peter, he illustrates the boundless nature of mercy with his “seventy times seven” response, a call to forgive endlessly with no "question of the person's repentance " . Mercy, in this sense, becomes an ongoing commitment to view others through a lens of compassion, seeing their worth rather than their faults.

Even when efforts to reach reconciliation fail, Jesus does not abandon the path of mercy. Only after every attempt has been made does he suggest involving the larger community, the congregation,  and even then, not as a means to ostracize or condemn. Instead, the community’s involvement serves as a final collective effort to restore the individual. Rather than casting someone out, this step is a last, loving appeal unlike the formal stool-of-repentance- type of judgement. 

Matthew 18 offers us a different kind of road map for addressing wrongs. It’s a path steeped in the spirit of Chemla, that divine compassion that doesn’t judge but offers undeserved kindness. How different our communities could be if we followed this example, holding onto mercy as our guide, letting compassion outweigh condemnation, and valuing each person’s dignity even in their lowest moments. It’s a vision of mercy, not just as a response to sin, but as a way of life.

If your congregation is not handling sin un the compassionate way Jesus prescribed , your in the wrong place.



"Scripture taken from the NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE®, Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission."

















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Jim McCrory

Raison d'être

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Friday, 17 Jan 2025, 10:45


 "The more I examine the universe and the details of its architecture, 

the more evidence I find that the universe in some sense

 must have known we were coming."

Freeman Dyson



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Raison d'être

I often walk and engage people in discussions. Sometimes general, more often existential.  During one discussion, I formed a solid friendship with one man, who asked me about the reason for life and existence. I asked him what he thought, and he said “reincarnation.”

“But don’t you think the Creator would have a more noble reason for man’s existence?” I asked. “Consider that we spend our entire lives gaining knowledge and wisdom. Consciousness is a miraculous construction that science still holds as one of life's great mysteries. Our thoughts, memories, and loves would all end if we were reincarnated back as a cockroach or some higher being. We would lose our identity?"

From my perspective, I fully believe our reason for living is indirectly explained by Jesus. When someone asked Him what the greatest commandment was, He replied:

“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:37-40, BSB)

Consider that we live in an environment where love for God and neighbour is practiced by a minority. Many people’s reasons for living are to exploit others, gain wealth, have as much sex as possible, and look after themselves. But does this make people happy? True happiness comes from a life focused on God and neighbour. This was a theory fully explored by the Pew Research Centre in 2019: Are Religious People Happier, Healthier? Our New Global Study Explores This Question.

Are religious people happier, healthier? | Pew Research Center

Surely, we all want to be happy. We can spend the rest of our life going up purposeless paths or heed the Apostle Peter’s advice,

“God intended that they would seek Him and perhaps reach out for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us.  ‘For in Him we live and move and have our being.” Acts 17: 27, 28. BSB.

Is it time to bow our heads and speak with the creator with a sincere heart rather than walking up empty lanes.

 

 

 

 

 

 


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My Father Never Lies

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"Integrity is doing the right thing, even when no one is watching." — C.S. Lewis 



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A friend's daughter some time ago embarked on a school assignment that left a lasting impression on me. She titled it, "My Father Never Lies." This phrase resonates deeply, serving as a poignant reminder of the legacy of integrity and credibility one can leave behind—a true testament to one’s character.

The Swedish word Trovärdighet captures this essence beautifully. It’s a term that signifies an internal consistency between one’s actions and character, a steadfastness that others can rely upon without doubt. This concept of reliability and trustworthiness is crucial in understanding what it means to be human.

Reflecting on this, I recall rekindling a friendship with someone I went to school with. We occasionally walk across to the Island of Bute, where we both spent our childhood summers. Over these walks, it’s fascinating to observe how we have evolved over the decades. One trait that makes him stand out is his trustworthiness. Confiding in him comes with an assurance that my words remain safe, a quality that epitomizes Trovärdighet.

In the last 24 hours, about 3,000 visitors logged onto my blog, and it comforts me to think that many of us share this path. In a world often driven by deceit for personal gain, finding solace in the company of those we can trust is a rare comfort. It reassures us, provides peace, and sets a standard for how relationships should be.

This brings us to a critical question—can our children, partners, or friends confidently say that we are people who never lie? Do they see us as embodiments of Trovärdighet? Whether it’s in the context of family, friendships, or even professional relationships, the quality of being trustworthy is fundamental.

The Biblical proverb, "The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in people who are trustworthy" (Proverbs 12:22), encapsulates the divine appreciation for integrity. It is a principle that guides us, urging us to live lives that others can rely on, just as they would rely on a compass for direction.

In our quest to leave a meaningful legacy, let us strive to be remembered for our truthfulness and reliability—qualities that not only define us but also enrich the lives of those around us.


Note: 

In Swedish culture, as in many others, the importance of trust and credibility can be seen in social norms, business practices, and even in the legal system. Sweden is often noted for its high levels of trust in government and institutions, which is a testament to the cultural value placed on "trovärdighet."

In literature, credibility plays a crucial role in storytelling. A narrator's credibility, for instance, can significantly affect the interpretation of a story. Swedish literature, like that of many cultures, often explores themes of trust and deceit, and the credibility of characters can be a central theme.

 


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