On suffrage and sacrifice

Last week I had the pleasure of seeing Suffragette.
Watch it. No, really. I don't care if you don't approve of their militant actions. Nor if you think that feminism has 'gone too far'. Everyone should see it.

As the lights came up and I hastily sorted my smudged eyes, I realised that my limited knowledge of suffragettes had come mainly from Mrs Banks in Mary Poppins. Sure, I had heard about force-feeding and some woman stepping in front of the king's horse... but it had remained an interesting, fantastical piece of general knowledge (like most other history lessons, really).

Instead of a rambunctious upper-class lady partial to breaking into song, I was confronted with the reality of suffrage. Malnourished, shamed and homeless women, giving everything - jobs, husbands, children - for this cause they believed in. It was inspiring to see this relatively recent show of sacrifice. These women believed they were fighting for something greater than their own lives, greater than commitment to husbands or children. And this demonstration of giving up everything felt rather alien to me.

Which is ironic, I guess, given that I've been a Christian for however many years and know Jesus' teaching about "take up your cross and follow me". It's just that as a teenager, that meant putting up with being mocked at school for my faith; and as an adult, accepting that the 'pool' of prospective romantic partners becomes pretty small if you narrow the search to only Christians. Are these things sacrifice? I'm not sure. They haven't stopped me from carving out the idea of a pleasant time on earth, enjoying fullness of life through Jesus and (hopefully) having a vaguely merry time of it.

[NB. Good news: faith in Jesus doesn't mean your life will be awful - that's *not* what I'm trying to say.]

But the idea that I have something so much greater even than women's rights or social justice, to give up my life for - I guess it just hasn't really had to occur to me living in the millennial Western world.

It's never occurred to me that I might actually have to give everything for the sake of the gospel. In theory, I've known and accepted it: but the chance of having to give up home, familial relationships or life for the gospel has always (thankfully) been pretty low.

What am I saying? Not that we should give up our current lives and go live in caves, or off of wild locusts and honey. But just that when you remember the call of Christian sacrifice - being prepared to give our lives, even - and the hope set before us in Jesus, it changes your perspective on Right Now.

If the core of who I am is striving for God's glory, his kingdom, seeing his face - then the tiny sacrifices I make now will be fairly insignificant. The idea of not getting married seems rather inconsequential when I'm faced with what any sacrifice would be for: the reality of Jesus; the truth of salvation; the hope of everything we've been promised.

One Year On: Things I've learnt.

Today marks one year since Hannah and I arrived at our new home in south-east London to start the next stage of life. I cannot get over how much has changed since then – cue some emotional nostalgia.

We arrived in the middle of the Olympics, the whole city revelling in sun and sporting success. The playlist of those weeks was Emeli Sande and Florence & The Machine. We were introduced to Blackheath and watched Usain Bolt's 100 metre win on a sunny evening on the heath with locals.

A whole year on, I think I’ve learnt a few things about myself, the world, London, and life. I thought I’d fill you in....

1.      People DO (occasionally) smile on the tube. In fact, a man did actually speak to me once. But he was American, so maybe that doesn’t count. Similarly, in the early days I informed a colleague that I relished smiling at strangers on the tube – and that some actually smiled back. I was bluntly informed that “That’s cos they think you’re mental”. Well, at least she was honest. 

      Another thing I’ve learnt is that a morning commute essentially means you will be forced to share a highly un-British and uncomfortably small amount of space with complete strangers. This inevitably results in the unsociability that pervades London transport: the only way you can get through a train ride with your face in someone else’s armpit is to avoid all eye contact.

2.      After a whole year, working near travelling past the London Eye, South Bank and Westminster hasn’t got old yet. But having to shove through huge crowds of tourists all taking the same shot of Big Ben did, really quickly.

3.      I can manage a whole month living alone in a new city, without being found half-eaten by Alsatians (a concern at one point – see here)

4.      One of the most valuable things for getting settled into a new place is good friends and family to show you round – thank you Emily and siblings.

5.      No matter how cold it is outside, when on board a train you will need to remove almost all clothing to avoid sweating profusely.

6.      A good thing about our location is that people often want to stay over for the night. Guests include: Mim, Shepka, Luke, Fran & Miller, Lydia, Hannah, Tingley & Pete, Becky and Colette. Fortunate guests of Chateau Cope-Randerson will have become accustomed to Hannah’s ridiculously loud coffee maker, and my loud singing in the shower (actually, my loud singing full stop).

7.      Don’t dress up in a dragon onesie in front of your boss – unless you decide you care more about having fun than getting a promotion. Ditto, dalek costumes.

8.      The best place to go and think about the Big Things of life during your lunch break is Parliament Square. Even if it’s sleeting and 2° outside. Parliament Square is also a brilliant setting for a motivating walk to work – walking along past statues of Churchill, Abe Lincoln and Nelson Mandela really gears oneself up for a day of e-mails and stapling.

9.      On that note – unless you do a grad-scheme or ‘get lucky’, your first job out of uni will likely be occasionally interesting, but often boring. Once you start, you will realise just how little you know, and how young you feel (although dressing up as a Dalek probably didn’t help my case). The more you learn, the more you’ll realise your ignorance. But God has been showing me this year that it’s not what I do but who I am doing it for.

10.  The only way to walk in central London, is quickly. If you’re not going to walk quickly, get out of our way.

11.  In addition – something about London makes me more impatient. And perhaps, people generally. Maybe it is that Londoners have become so used to accessing whatever so quickly – materials, food, transport, entertainment – that even a brief wait is too long and perceived as an inconvenience.

12.  Google maps, Google maps, Google maps. Forget the London A-Z. This little treasure was the one thing that (usually) stopped me getting completely overwhelminghly lost in London, and the one thing that means I turn up to vaguely the right event venue at vaguely the right time.

13.  Going to church on your own for the first time is really daunting, even if you’re a Full-On Extrovert. Be especially friendly to the people who turn up looking awkward and new-ish. Unless you stay in the same place your entire life, one day it will be you.

14.  If your flatmate comes home excited after a wedding, chances are she got engaged whilst she was away.

15.  Don’t travel through central London, on your own, on New Years’ Eve. You will be forced to traipse up and down the Strand following policemens’ directions and be immersed in a shoving crowd of drunk revellers all trying to get home.

16.  Living with a hyper-organised person will, on the whole, make you more organised. Lists can be useful. Planning can be fun. (Oh gosh, who have I become?) Living with Hannah means making sure the toilet lid is kept down at all times (except, when you’re using it) and the DVDs are alphebetised – Richard, take note.

17.  In a similar vein, the past year of living with Hannah has also taught me that: 1) salad can be a tasty meal (provided it involves meat and the word ‘Epic’ is placed in front);  2) One can apparently never have enough couscous; 3) Made In Chelsea is ridiculous, but also shamefully addictive; 4) if your flatmate rearranges the entire living room furniture, the world does not actually end; 5) Don’t Ever Touch Hannah When She’s Hot; 6) The only way to plan a wedding 18 months in advance is with multiple spreadsheets.

18.  Things I have taught Hannah: 1) Spontaneity CAN be fun; 2) If I go too long without a hug I am prepared to chase her around the living room until she gives in; 3) I will happily shout ‘HANNYBEAR, WAIT FOR ME’ in public if I want to embarrass her at any point; 4) The Guardian is a normal newspaper and not only for hippies; 5) I am remarkably calm in a panic situation, say, when the brakes stop working whilst Hannah is driving.

19.  Working in central London will expose you to people who have a lot more than you and people with a lot less. Trying to remain content in every situation is difficult but valuable.

20.  Trafalgar Square is a fantastic location for a game of Where’s Thea.

21.  The journey between London and Birmingham is not all that long and completely worth it when there are lovely people to see at the other end.

22.  If the landlady tells you that your flat is in a quiet neighbourhood, what she means is that you won’t speak to your neighbours all year (except a fateful evening after the first day of the new job where upstairs’ flood leaks through to your flat). You will, however, be sharing a neighbourhood with people who get arrested under the terrorism act, and a man who enjoys blasting a single reggae song from his penthouse at bizarre times of night.

But I guess more than any of this, the most important thing I’ve learnt over the past year is that God is so incredibly, immensely faithful. He had to ‘throw me out of the nest’ (so to speak) for me to fly. A year ago, I was bewildered, daunted, fearful, and totally doubting what I was doing here (read my blog here). My mum pointed me to Exodus and the Israelites’ doubting God’s purposes for them after Egypt. I was forced to hold on and trust that God had a plan in this. Being dragged (kicking and screaming, as it sometimes felt) to London, by God, was exactly what I needed to get stronger, grow and have loads of exciting adventures. I’ve seen for myself that God can bring us out of the valleys, that he is the one who ‘restores my soul’. It was by being thrown so totally out of my comfort zone that I have flourished and come to really full-on love life again.

Surrendering Plans

      A new friend recently asked me to describe my perfect day, five years' from now. I hope it's a good thing that it took me ages to decide on, because really, I've no idea and on the whole I don't massively care. Last year in so many ways showed me what is important and what isn't worth worrying about (FYI - hope = important, tattoos = not worth worrying about - hence the 'hope' tattoo). Yes, I do still cling onto the idols of comfort and health and happiness, and trust that God will refine me - (although, let's be honest, that's not often massive 'fun'), so that I can truly say I only need Him.
 
    But, that aside - it's quite liberating to not be bound by my own Five Year Plan. It is, I suppose, part of what I'm sloo-oo-oo-wly trying to get into my head about Surrender. Like, real surrender. Like singing "I surrender all", and actually truly meaning it and, what's more, seeking to live it after the Sunday service has finished. Obviously, no one likes surrendering. We could also call it 'relinquishing control' which , as Monica from Friends points out, "is just a fancy word for 'lose'".

   And I'm not writing this blog because I am any kind of expert at surrender - I'm so, so not. OCD plus general control-freak personality means I like to plan my day, have  a routine, and Know Where I Am Headed. And yet for so many people of my age, this is the most uncertain times we've faced. 

  Surrender should be, as I said in my last post, knowing that the One who holds my future is also the One who holds the stars in their place. Sometimes, surrender may be as basic as recognising that I'm not God; and that God is not a malevolent puppeteer out to ruin my life. He is, however, in control; maybe surrender is accepting that we aren't.

Eurgh, what a horrible thought! (Because obviously, when I am 'in control' everything in life goes swimmingly). HA.

   My 'surrendering' to God means saying it's okay if I lose my job, or if I never get married. Our twisted mindsets can make us decide that with the fear of losing this stuff, it's safer to take our lives in our own hands.

    My friends and wider Facebook community (on the whole) appear to be getting engaged so rapidly that I will soon be able to count my single friends on two hands. This is wonderful, but can make me feel slightly unfashionable in the current trend. Control Freak Thea's brain tells me, if I don't take things into my own hands - take 'control' - I'll be 'Left on the Shelf'.

    The other part - the Still, Small Voice - not only reminds me how futile it is to try to manipulate God's plans whilst claiming surrender - but reminds me of the Faithful Father I have. A Father who is compassionate, who sees my hopes and dreams and doesn't laugh at them (well, except maybe that one about the Volkswagen Beetle).

    And no, that doesn't mean I'll enjoy perfect health, or get married, or own my own home. It does mean, however, that I have already received the most precious gift, the answer to all my hopes and dreams, who will forever satisfy. This one - "who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all" (Romans 8:32) - He's the One who watches my steps and guides my path. And in uncertainty, fear and the absence of a Five-Year plan, surrender suddenly seems like a beautiful option.