Referendummed Out

I haven't used this space for discussion of the referendum much, as I was keen to engage in the debate with others rather than just pontificate from a blog without listening to those of varied opinion.  I've decided at this stage to note some thoughts here by way of a full stop. These are my two pence on the campaign, the arguments, and the ultimate result. It's a few weeks to go now, I think most people know which way they are going to vote, and I have found myself coming closer to anger and frustration with the debate than I would like to - accordingly, with this sign off, 'I'm out'.  Que sera sera.

Voting and Vitriol

I came to this debate leaning towards 'No' but (as honestly as I could) remaining open to persuasion.  I will vote No, but that is not to say I don't understand why people are voting Yes. I am not one of those who says that all 'Yessers' are daft Braveheart types - far from it. Several of the people whom I most love and respect are tending towards voting for independence.  But, like grown ups, we can agree to disagree and still have a great many other things in common.  Sadly, that isn't the case for many across the public side of this debate.

I've heard people suggesting that 'the eyes of the world are on us' and that we are a shining example of a nation awakening, unshackling ourselves from an imperial oppressor by peaceful democratic resistance.  If the eyes of the world are truly on us at this moment, then I am ashamed to be associated with what they are seeing.  A nation divided by petty hostility, shallow tribalism and misdirected patriotism. On both sides, be it noted.

The fact is that the public face of this process has shown us to be largely incapable of restraint or listening to the other. Of course, that isn't true of the many 'over a coffee' chats between friends which have developed our thinking, but the visible debate - online, on press, on telly - has been hopelessly shallow.  I have been (directly or by categorisation as a 'No' inclined voter) called a traitor, a quisling and a Tory. I, apparently, don't care about the poor, don't care about democracy, and I don't care about the elderly.

That might be acceptable if we were simply talking about the 'extremes of social media' where anyone can mouth off without fear of being taken to task. But it isn't just that. It's the campaign itself. Salmond repeatedly asserting that Darling is 'in bed with the Tories' when he knows Darling's politics are far removed from David Cameron. Even subtly saying 'it's our pound, as well as yours' sets Darling up to be one of 'the English' rather than a Scot with an equally valid but opposite view as to how to progress the nation.  I have found it to be a very negative debate - on both sides - particularly as it has approached its conclusion.

Pos/Neg

Negativity has infected both sides, but 'the No camp have nothing positive to say' is an assertion that I feel needs a rebuttal.  The fact is that the referendum asks a yes / no question. If you want people to vote 'no' then you are giving them reasons not to vote 'yes'. At a purely linguistic level, that is an unavoidably negative proposition.

But it goes deeper than that. Yes Scotland are arguing for a huge change to the fundamental nature of the Scottish state. The question is 'should we go through that change, or not?'  There are very good reasons why change of that magnitude should be very carefully considered and the risks assessed, and as such Better Together are doing exactly what we need them to do by pointing out the risks.

This reflects on another comment I hear bandied around: 'why is there no grass roots campaign for the union?'  The answer is obvious: grassroots campaigns start with a desire for change.  Grassroots 'Yes' campaigns begin with people who want to change the constitution.  Nobody joins a campaign to 'keep things as they are'.  Rather, 'No' inclined voters are just as involved in grassroots campaigns, but for issues that actually matter to them within the union. To put it another way, everyone wants change, but 'No' voters suggest that there are bigger and more important changes to make within the union, rather than leaving the union.  The union is not the goal, but the context within which we want to reach our goals.  For Yes Scotland, independence is an aim in and of itself.

Of course, Yes Scotland have now shown themselves to be entirely hypocritical in accusing anyone of negativity given that their latest tactic is to hustle and harass the poorest and most vulnerable in our society by threatening that a No vote means an end to the NHS and an end to their benefits. I even saw one Yes poster with a picture of a nuclear mushroom cloud over Faslane.  Vote Yes, or you'll have no money and no healthcare. And you'll die in a nuclear holocaust.  Positivity is great, huh.

But beyond those extremes (which have only been wheeled out at the death as Yes tries to close the gap) it seems to me that a vote for independence is fundamentally pessimistic.  You only have to delve beneath the surface of the 'Scotland can do it' rhetoric and you find an altogether more cynical underlying conviction that 'Britain can't'.  What if, together, we can?  What if, instead of cutting ourselves off, we engaged across the whole country and started building towards a better, fairer, more compassionate society across the whole UK?

Gimme Gimme

Both sides have approached this debate on the predictable but sad basis that 'what's in it for me?' is the ultimate decider. Accordingly, Yes and No have argued to the death over whether we'd have more money or less money.  What neither campaign seems able to admit is that the truth is we don't know - Scotland could end up wealthier, or poorer, than it is currently. It depends on a multiplicity of interconnected factors (such as the hotly contested estimates of just how much oil is sitting under the sea to the West of Shetland).

The question I would pose is: does it matter?  Isn't it a far cry from the principles of solidarity and sharing that (apparently) are the foundation of liberal, left wing Scotland to boil it down to a calculation that 'if we don't share it with the English, we can spend it on ourselves'? Isn't that selfish?  Or do we care so deeply about our own poverty that we will deplete the reserves available to help our neighbours?  Is a poor Glasgow family more worthy of help than a poor London family?

Better Together have, unfortunately, walked right into that argument - accepting as a basic premise that we want to be better off. What if we don't?  What if there are bigger principles at stake than having our cake and eating it, having our oil and spending it?  The union for me is about partnering for good, pooling resources for the benefit of all.  It is about being completely happy to see some of our oil surplus be spent in the South, knowing that when the oil dries up (and indeed before the oil was struck) some of the wealth of the buoyant South East economy flows North.  Good times and bad, for better for worse... Hardly a mature marriage if it is based entirely on economics.  'Honey (not Darling....) thanks for the last few years, but I've got a better offer elsewhere. And I'm keeping the engagement ring.'

Politics or power

The debate should not be about money, and also not about policy.  The reason why, as Angus Robertson narrated at length in a debate a few weeks ago 'the No parties don't even have a plan A' is because that is exactly what they are: parties plural. Yes Scotland was described by Greens leader Patrick Harvie as pretty much an SNP vehicle.  That's why they can make policy announcements about independence meaning greater childcare an oil fund and lower corporation tax. Of course 'independence' doesn't mean a jot for childcare.  But a government policy does.  It is therefore misleading to say 'independence means we will have this, this and this...' Because that entirely depends what the elected government of Scotland does!!

So where is the 'Better Together' vision?  There isn't one.  There can't be.  It is contributed to by three or four parties who generally disagree. They have different visions for Scotland. In the next election they will ask you to vote for their vision. Right now, the only issue is whether Scotland should remain a part of the UK, and these parties agree that for all of their varying and divergent visions of the future, the best way is to do it together.  Rather than mocking Darling for being 'in bed with the Tories' shouldn't we be commending politicians from warring factions for setting aside their differences to work collaboratively?  Isn't that what we want to see more of in politics?  Less 'punch and judy' and more mature co-operation in the national interest?

Democratic deficits

One of the more intriguing arguments going around is the 'democratic argument'.  Salmond passionately told us that for half of his life he has been ruled by a government he didn't vote for.  My friends, that is democracy!!  That means that for the OTHER half of his life, he did get the government he voted for!! I have never voted SNP in my life... Yet they govern me on devolved issues just now.  If you consistently vote for minor parties, for example the Christian Party, you will likely NEVER get the government you want.  That is democracy.

Now, the argument runs that because Scotland makes up less than 10% of the UK population, Scotland can't guarantee that it gets the government it votes for.  That argument is deeply flawed.

First, it assumes that Scots are a homogenous bunch of left leaning labour voters.  Hence, if a right-of-centre party is in power, it is the opposite of what Scotland wanted.  That is nonsense.  Until the 1950s Scots could just as easily vote right-of-centre as left, with the conservatives often winning more seats than labour.  Even today, whilst the first-past-the-post system of the UK general election works on a 'winner takes it all' basis, which affords the First Minister his line about the pandas out numbering Scottish Tory MPs, the truth is that 412,855 Scots voted Tory in 2010.  Not seem that much?  Well 491,386 voted SNP, and 465,471 voted LibDem.  My point is that you can't say that Scots all think the same, and Tory support in Scotland, whilst low compared to the South East, is not rock bottom.

Secondly, and even less understandable, the argument assumes that 'the English' all vote Tory!  Therefore no matter what wee Scotland does, those true blue English cousins of ours will vote us down with their Tory votes.  Come on.  Do you remember the two last prime ministers of the country?  Both Labour.  Edinburgh educated Tony Blair and awbdy's favourite Fifer Gordon Brown.  We Scots are not completely different from our family and friends in the rest of the UK in our voting patterns - Glasgow has as much (the West coaster in me says more!) in common with Manchester as it does with Edinburgh.

Thirdly, the democratic argument for Yes takes umbrage at the fact that we enlightened 9% can't tell the 91% what to do!  That is how democracy works!!  It means that if you want change, you need to engage in a debate across a broad range of people - like the Labour movement did historically.  The same can immediately be said of areas in Scotland who tend not to vote for the ruling party - the obvious example being Lib Dem stronghold Shetland.  Do they suffer a democratic deficit because the SNP are in power?

The local-er the better

It follows then, say Yes, that we should go it our own way.  Because (altogether now) nobody will do a better job of governing Scotland than those who live and work there.  An excellent line that begs an affirmative answer.  But is it a good point?  Is it true that the closer the local connection to power, the better?  Is there a reason we ever moved on from medieval city-states to form nations, and nations to form unions?  If it is true, why stop at Scotland?  You won't find a Glaswegian that thinks people from Edinburgh are cut from the same cloth - maybe we should go for an east-west split?  But those city types don't understand rural concerns.  We should divide it north-south as well - the republic of the Highlands and Islands.  But wait - islands?  Can't get more separate than that.  An independent Shetland. Wouldn't that be local?  Of course, since most of the new oil is found in their waters, Shetland should definitely go it alone.  Never mind what that would do economically to mainland Scotland. Why worry - they're different from us.

Is it true? Or is there value in togetherness? Across regions, towns, cities and villages.  Transcending class, profession, race and religion.  Is it not the case that we are (to get on the bandwagon) actually better together, as a family of nations, learning from each other, growing together and progressing together?  Is there literally zero truth in the arguments made by Better Together about having the backing of broader shoulders?  Spreading the impact of volatile oil prices and unforeseen costs across a wider population?  It seems to me just to make sense.

Perhaps you saw the news that there is a movement to divide California into 6 states. The stated reason? Localising democracy! The (alleged) undercurrent? Let's keep our wealth in our own region and not share it with the poorer parts. That is not the kind of ambition which I want driving my country.

Short memories

But it's not just about making government more local, say Yes, it's about freeing us from the tyranny of Westminster - look at all they've done!!  The chief campaign tactic of Yes has been to list unpopular policies of the UK government and say 'that's the union for you'.  But the fact is, those are the policies of particular governments at particular times.  When I hear those kinds of comments, it reminds me of a certain Monty Python sketch.  If you will indulge me:

'I mean, what has the union ever done for us?  Yeah well, apart from giving us a place of influence at the table of the international community - what has the union ever done for us?  No, apart from the benefit of barrier-free trade with one of the worlds biggest economies - I mean what has Westminster done for us?  Yeah, ok, I guess there's the minimum wage, a balanced trade union system, and the human rights act... But apart from all of that, what has Westminster ever done for us?  No, no, forget about creating the welfare state, practically inventing peaceful modern democracy, increasing social mobility to the point that one in two people go to uni and many of those who don't, choose not to... Apart from all that.... I mean recently. What has this Con-Dem government of austerity wielding doom done for ME?  Well, apart from raising my personal allowance so that more of what I earn I keep, and apart from...'

We have terribly short memories. As both sides have reminded the other (usually to win a very narrow point), independence is forever, not for Christmas.  As we emerge from a recession, it's hardly fair to accuse the current regime of being less generous than their predecessors.... That was the whole point!  And now as employment figures start to recover and the economy starts to grow - just as things might start to get better - we want to leave?  Did we want to leave when the economy was booming, spending was at its peak, and the cabinet was half Scottish (not actually much of an overstatement!) with a Scottish educated PM and a Fife-born Chancellor?  It is completely short-termist to say 'vote Yes to end austerity and get free from Osbourne's cuts'.

Never mind complexity

Ah yes, they cry, but look at the bigger issues - illegal wars, nuclear missiles... Long term policies that Scotland is consistently dragged into against its will.  It is at this point that sound bites and one liners do not serve us well.

On illegal wars. Firstly, as easy as it is to throw it around, no Court or tribunal has determined that the UK invasion of Iraq in 2003 was illegal, and clear published (and publicly available) advice from the Attorney General stated it was lawful.  But that aside, clearly Iraq remains a hot issue - not least because of the appalling barbarism we see taking place there in these past few months.  Salmond is on record as saying an independent Scotland would not have undertaken a pursuit such as the Iraq war.  Is it really so simple?

War is never good, but is it sometimes the best response to a bad situation?  Most if us still agree WW2 was 'the right thing to do'.  Most think the same on Kosovo, where Blair was the liberating hero.  Same for Sierra Leone.  In Iraq we removed a dictator but left a legacy of chaos.  In Afghanistan we deposed the Taliban but again left things looking pretty shaky.  In Syria, and arguably in relation to the current plight of the Iraqis, we do nothing, haunted by 2003.  What is more moral?  To enter into the fray, to avert disaster, amidst accusations about 'trying to play the world police' or to sit back in the face of unspeakable human rights abuses and do nothing because it ain't our problem?  I say that not to argue that every decision made by the government has been right, but simply to acknowledge that things are more complex, more nuanced than the standard lines about illegal wars, America's lapdog and world police.

The same goes for nuclear arms.  And, in fact, for balancing the need to 'make work pay' with the need to protect the vulnerable and the jobless from poverty.  Complex questions, difficult answers - and most importantly, divided opinion.  To break the issues down to sound bites about Westminster and their implicit desire to wreak havoc with bombs and benefits, is to patronise us, mislead us, or worse.  These are complicated issues that Holyrood will have every chance of 'getting it wrong' in the eyes of many people, just as Westminster has. Such is democracy.

What if the problem is people?

When we leave, if we leave, what are we walking into?  A socialist utopia?  A land of milk and honey?  Oil money paving the streets, renewable energy lighting up the world?  Do we really think that the answers to poverty, addiction, alcoholism, domestic abuse and recidivist offending and all of the other ills which afflict us as a nation are just sitting there under the surface, waiting to be found by an independent Scotland, set free from a UK regime which seeks to keep us (and themselves) under the cosh of these and other social problems?

That does a huge disservice to the thousands of organisations - state and charitable - working across the UK to relieve those issues.  Independence is an easy answer, and like most easy answers it isn't an answer at all.

What if our struggles with poverty in the midst of the eternal right-left political tension, our disillusionment with politics and politicians, and our addiction to debt is not a UK problem, but a people problem?  I don't find the Scottish Parliament a country mile more compassionate, realistic, honest or sensible than the UK parliament.  I think (bless my cotton socks) that politicians of every political hue, by and large, actually go into it with some ideas and desires to make the country better.  Whether they succeed or not we can debate, but the point is that this narrative of Westminster, the bankers and the Tories all being one homogenous blob of gluttony that sucks us dry, is a dangerous one.  My fear is that we will walk blindly into independence and discover that we still have all the same issues, we disagree with each other just as much, we mistrust our politicians the same as we did before, and public information is as much spin and distraction as it is now.  Why assume it will be different?

Rather than cutting away and doing it ourselves, why not try and bring cultural change across the whole political spectrum?  Do we really believe that just by dint of being Scottish we are better people?  As someone involved in the justice system seeing the worst - and occasionally the best - of this society, I simply don't take that view.  I have hope - people, systems and societies can change - but that hope rests on a broad movement across society, rather than simply creating our own little society and assuming it will be different.

Legalities

Before I finish with a little bit of a more positive note, as a lawyer I can't help but be drawn on a couple of technicalities. Notwithstanding my aversion to sound bite and simplification, I will keep this brief!

On currency, as Salmond well knows, the point is not 'can we keep the pound' but whether we can use it in the context of a formal currency union. That is the unknown.  It is not something he can guarantee, and nor is it something that any mandate of the Scottish people can demand.  After all, it will by that stage be demanding that a foreign country underwrite our economy. If the rest of the UK says no, they say no.

But assets and liabilities go hand in hand, he says.  No pound, no payments on the debt. Thank you and goodnight, says Yes.  But actually stop and think about what they are saying.  'The pound' is not an asset, it is a measurement of the value of assets.  Salmond says 'the asset of the bank of England' is what he means.  That is just not a tenable position.  He might as well say that the Houses of Parliament are assets so we should continue to use those!  A political arrangement such as a currency union is not an asset, and an agreement to be supported by the Bank of England as the lender of last resort is not an asset.  The individual pounds in the Bank of England are cash assets - but there aren't any!  The 'assets' we are dividing up, in cash terms, are negative equity: debt.

Of course, if we take the asset question too far one could ask why there is no suggestion that oil is a shared asset, to be divided equally... Because that's ours and we're keeping it, right?  Even though it is UK government money which has been ploughed into development, regulation and support of the offshore industry, and plans for decommissioning installations.  I think there is an argument that oil reserves should be split more evenly.  After all, in a divorce, everything is up for grabs.

This is all setting aside the horrific irresponsibility of threatening to default on £100billion worth of debt.  That would set Scotland up as about as appealing an investment as the former Rangers FC.  The nation's economy crushed in one single senseless promise.

Will Scotland continue in the EU just as we are?  The honest answer is 'maybe'. It's a risk.  The UK is in the EU subject to certain caveats and opt-outs, which new acceding states are not entitled to.  That means that the EU could insist that Scotland joins the Euro, signs up to Schengen (which would raise the border control issue with rUK), and loses the rebate (a cash payment the UK takes back from the EU to account for various factors - very unpopular with the rest of the member states, and so almost certain to not be applied to Scotland).

As with currency, the answer is not in Scotland's power: it depends on the agreement of the other member states.  As has been well documented, certain of those states have their own separatist movements which they would be disinclined to offer encouragement to by treating the new Scotland favourably.  That may be churlish of them, but the fact is that for most of the factors listed above, we need unanimous agreement and we may not get it for those reasons.

One thing that is completely barmy is Yes Scotland's insistence that we will continue to charge English students fees, but nobody else.  Aside from being discriminatory and unfair (which it is at the moment, let's be honest) it will become illegal for an independent Scotland to do it.  It won't happen.  It can't happen.  It would be like charging Spanish or French students: we don't, because we can't.  No question, absolute certainty, we will not be able to do it.  When the Scottish Government says it will... It is either bring wilfully ignorant of the law, or it is being dishonest.

For the future - Fair and Federal

Enough on the minutiae.  What of the future?  Better Together are hamstrung by policy differences from offering a single unified vision for the future.  I am not.

Better Together are hamstrung from criticising the UK government (just as Yes Scotland don't criticise the SNP administration).  I am not.

I want to make it clear that in voting 'No' I am not issuing a vote in support of the current UK government (though nor do I think 'Tory' is a dirty word: the truth is always in the tension).  I am not saying I don't want change.  I am not saying that this nation of ours is perfect.

One of my fears about a Yes vote is that so many are saying Yes to 'change', but as Salmond has made clear in the last few days, he intends to interpret your Yes vote as a vote of personal confidence in him and his white paper - a mandate.  Therefore a Yes vote is not simply a vote for change, it is a vote for a very specific government paper.

My point is this: you ask people if they want 'change', people look around and think this isn't perfect, so yeah of course I want change.  'Vote Yes in that case!' they say.  But the millionaires want a different change to the poor.  The old want a different change to the young.  You might vote Yes because you're sick of the red tape of UK regulation and taxation, and you want to get your business to increase in profitability in a low-tax business friendly state.  Or, you might vote Yes because you're sick of seeing people in poverty and you want to see a reformed welfare state with higher taxes and higher spending.  Two Yes votes, but when it comes to the crunch, one (or both) of those points of view are going to be disappointed.

An independent Scotland is a beautiful blank canvas - but there are a million competing interests and designs for what should go on that canvas, and there is every chance it would be a painting just as compromised and unappealing as UK politics can seem at times.

My argument is that it is better to stay and be a part of the change, than to leave.  Voting Yes is a statement of surrender: it is turning our back on the country and saying 'this cannot improve'.  I say no.  Over the last 500 years this nation has transformed and reinvented itself time and again.  One of the only nations to become democratic without shedding royal blood in the process.  Through the extension of the franchise, women's votes, removing the legislative powers of the House of Lords and removing hereditary peers from the chamber, cementing a foreign aid commitment in the budget and building the NHS and the welfare state, and even through devolution itself (which is only 15-odd years old remember!) this is a nation which has demonstrated that it can be flexible and changeable when the will of the people demands it.

So change it, don't leave it.

What changes would I like to see?  Well, I'll leave out specifics, because frankly I'm not sure what the best way to tackle poverty, addiction and abuse is.  But let me paint a broad picture of how I think it should work politically.

Constitutionally, I think the only logical solution for the UK is federalism.  This grants Scotland greater autonomy, as well as fulfilling the growing desires south of the border for more localised government.  Whether that means 4 parliaments and one UK senate, or England breaking into different regions for the purposes of devolved government, I think that is the only answer.

Imagine devolved government to the same extent in every region of the UK, with one overarching parliament dealing with reserved issues (defence, foreign policy etc). If people really don't like the House of Lords, we could use their chamber as the UK Federal Senate.

We could embed principles in a new constitution whereby each region is responsible for raising the majority of its own revenue, subject to a duty to spread wealth to poorer areas (so we can't keep all the oil money, and London can't keep all the financial services money).

In that context, I would like to see a transition away from sound bite populist politics, to locally involved government, being honest about the big questions (rather than pretending they have all the answers) and in return being treated with respect by the electorate.

I would like to see a political system where rather than cutting down our opponents, we seek to work collaboratively, cooperatively and consensually towards solutions to our problems, and those of the world around us.

As a Christian, this is summarised in one overused but rarely understood word: love.  I hate 'tolerance' - it is such a watered down version of love.  What if we considered those who disagree with us, even those who oppose us, as colleagues and not opponents?  What if, instead of undermining and attacking, we actually held each other up in genuine affection, even amidst our disagreements?

Those are changes which might seem a pipe dream.  Maybe.  But it is a dream that is not, in my view, furthered by independence and separation.  It is a dream which depends on collaboration and, to bring it home, union.

If it doesn't sound too much like I'm trying to rip off MLK: I have a dream.  And I'm voting No because I want to pursue that dream rather than give up on it.  I want to fix the problems rather than walk away from them.  And I want to keep it together rather than break it apart.

You may disagree, and that's ok.  Whether we're staying or leaving after September, I hope we can work together towards a better future - and not just for Scotland, but for everyone.

Wow.

Glad I got that off my chest.

Mikey

Religion and Relationship

You've got to love a good cliché. World Cup punditry is an endless stream of games of two halves, which aren’t over till they're over. Our esteemed politicians accuse each other ad nauseam of the cardinal sin of being "out of touch" and a short but potent list of other favourites. Even from the well of creative inspiration that is romance, more often than not we draw the same phrases, perhaps beginning with the astute observation that roses are often red whilst on the contrary violets are primarily blue.

But the thing is, clichés often become clichés because they are true.

They are phrases worth repeating, telling us truth worth remembering.

Clearly some are manifestly incorrect (for example "I'm sure it will be fine" tends to ring a little hollow in the wake of serious pain and loss, and "What's for you won’t pass you by" doesn’t necessarily inoculate us from the effects of failing to take the opportunities providence offers) but many are quite profound.

"Christianity isn't religion, it's a relationship".

Now there's a cliché.

But, unlike the blind determination that "what's for us" will not be missed, this particular cliché is true. And, unlike romantic assertions about flowers and colours, it is a cliché which is very much worth remembering.

A friend of mine on Sunday was (amongst other things) speaking about this distinction, and the corrosive effects that religion can have on us and our attitudes to both self and other. As often happens to me, I was struck with the realisation that God had been reminding me of that for a while (I am not blessed with the most sensitive set of spiritual ears, and like sending texts through the intermittent reception at my childhood home, it usually takes a few attempts to get through!)

"Christianity isn't religion, it's a relationship".

This is a statement that I have always adhered to wholeheartedly, usually as a pithy rebuttal to those who assume that my faith boils down to the bending of my will to comply with a set of moral and ethical precepts.

Perhaps, I confess, I have even thought of the phrase as a neat rebuke to those whose Christianity is borne more out of habit than holiness, more tradition than truth, and more law than love.

But the good Lord has been gently (but disconcertingly firmly) suggesting that I might be wrong to point the finger elsewhere whilst remaining ignorant of my three fingers returning serve (to keep with clichés).

In particular, God has been causing me to ask where my allegiances, devotions and passions lie.

Is my life devoted to Jesus, or is my life devoted to acts of service, ministry and (inhale)…religion?

Is my identity rooted in my role as a leader, an influencer, a speaker, an encourager, a [insert ministry or gifting function]…. or is my identity rooted in loving and being loved by Jesus?

If Christianity is relationship; if my true passion is Jesus; if my core identity is being loved by and loving him… then certain things need to change. Patterns of thought. Tendencies towards get-the-job-done-Martha instead of sit-at-his-feet-Mary. And of course, by sitting at his feet more, the job will actually get done better and with far more fruitfulness as a result. As Luther knew, when he said he was too busy not to spend three hours daily in prayer and worship.

Our faith is not first and foremost about holiness and right-living, about church and community, about service and ministry and saving the world. It is, first and foremost, about a relationship with Jesus.

Like any friendship, the only way to deepen relationship is to invest in it. Time to get to know Jesus again.

A couple of months back I preached a sermon which came out of what God had spoken to me very powerfully and personally about my identity. The short version is that over the past 10 years, God told me that he had, like an apple, removed my core, broken me apart, and pieced me back together around a new identity: being unconditionally loved by God.

Given that prior conversation with the Almighty, I responded to this most recent heavenly tap on my earthly shoulder with an objection, along these lines:

"Gosh...I don't mean to be rude, Jesus, but haven't we dealt with that issue… I mean I did preach a sermon on it… I'm meant to have that one sorted now…"

Clear as day came heaven's answer (I could be wrong, but with a hint of a laugh):

"Stage Two"

Perhaps, for those as dim-witted as me, some lessons need repeating.

"Christianity isn't religion, it's a relationship".

Evidence

I have many faults. Chief amongst them, probably, is an almost irresistible desire to correct people. I may try and blame my legal training. My wife may put it more down to a deep need to be the cleverest boy in the class. Knowing my weaknesses, I am torn between the desire to dive into debate and the inclination to shy away from getting in too deep. The decision over whether to weigh in is usually made on the basis that one must choose battles carefully.

One debate that I rarely shy away from is the debate over the veracity of faith.  Partly it's because I believe it is the most important debate which it is possible to have.  I believe it has massive consequences for the individual and the community, and I believe each one of us is charged with the responsibility to come to a conclusion on that matter and live our lives accordingly. On the other hand, it's also because I am so overwhelmingly convinced that I struggle not to get a bit irritated by the flippancy with which people dismiss it.

One comment I often hear goes something like: when the dust settles on all our philosophical musings, there is actually no evidence for the existence of God or the veracity of the Christian faith. That bothers me. Because it is a patently false statement.

Atheist friends, you are free to disbelieve the evidence or to reach different conclusions on the evidence (though I think it unwise to do so). What you cannot with intellectual integrity say is 'there is no evidence'.  There is. And as a former prosecutor I have seen people convicted on less.

Many have written compellingly on the topic - for reference see for a start the works of Oxford Don John Lennox, US Journalist Lee Strobel (an easier, though as a result slightly shallower read), the life of world record-holding lawyer Lionel Luckhoo, Tim Keller's 'The Reason for God' or the gloriously engaging CS Lewis.  Interestingly, a number of those authors were atheists who 'accidentally' converted after attempting to rationalise the evidence for God. As CS Lewis said of his own journey: "a young Atheist cannot guard his faith too carefully. Dangers lie in wait for him on every side".

I thought I'd add a further voice, in the hope that it persuades someone somewhere that there is a rational, intelligible basis for Christian faith. You may not be convinced by Christianity, but it is pure fallacy to go that step further and say that there is no basis on which any reasonable person could be.

In this brief note I can't consider all of the numerous evidential stones on which the case could be built. But, as a courtroom lawyer, the evidence that interests me most is that of witnesses.

As I write, it is Sunday and over 1 billion people worldwide are at church (I, for my sins, am in bed tapping on an iPad... read into that what you will!). In history many millions more are recorded. Many of these people testify to genuinely life changing experiences of direct interaction with a force or being they call God. Stories of healed bodies, defeated addictions, renewed minds, softened hearts, repaired marriages, inspired visions, guided steps and comforted souls. That is evidence. One could attempt to discredit each and every one of these pieces of evidence as placebo, coincidence, hallucination or just plain lies. Yet would it not be unwise to do so without first examining at least some of them?

What of the credibility of these witnesses? Well, many each year are killed for refusing to denounce what they have found to be true. I accept people will die for an idea that is false, or at least unworthy, if they are convinced enough - modern day terrorism teaches as much. But Christian martyrs aren't terrorists. They don't seek out death, and don't seek out the destruction of others. Rather, when persecution seeks them out, they accept it, refusing to concede that Jesus is the hope of the world. That kind of devotion to a story makes a story worth examining.

Fine, you say. All that proves is that some people die for what they believe. If they believe a lie, then they are to be pitied and not praised. After all, they believe what they believe because of what was written generations ago. (I would deny that this is the only reason for their faith, citing the examples of direct experience of a God as listed above. But for the sake of argument, I continue.)

We then need to consider the motives, the credibility and reliability of the original sources. The disciples. The men who wrote down the stories we read today. Histories. Those histories tell stories of miracles, of resurrection from the dead, and of a man in Palestine who claimed to be God, predicted his death and resurrection, and then came good on his prediction. They tell stories of a man, who whilst making these lofty claims about himself, spent his time serving the lowest in society, healing the broken, accepting the rejected and loving the hated. Someone a few weeks ago tried to pin me down to saying that the bible isn't evidence of its own truth. I'm afraid I had to disagree. In the gospels, you have four eyewitness testimonies passed down through the ages of what did and did not happen. You may attempt to discredit them by allegations of collusion or dishonesty. You may dispute their authorship and challenge their authenticity. Much has been written on those subjects. In my view they withstand scrutiny. We can debate that, and the evidence may not convince you, but that does not stop it being evidence.

I digress, however, because we were discussing the witnesses themselves. I was once in a cathedral in Bruges. Statues surrounded the interior, showing men holding various items. On closer inspection it was the disciples, each of them holding the method by which he was executed. These men were murdered for refusing to recant their eyewitness testimony as to the living, breathing, eating, talking body of the risen Christ. Men may die for a lie they believe to be true, we have certainly established that. But would a man die for something he knew to be a lie? I may not have been an eyewitness to the resurrection, but I know human nature. When it comes to vats of oil, saws, swords and crosses, I'll say whatever you want me to say. Unless. Unless I have seen something so remarkable, and experienced something so deeply transformative, that the prospect of death pales into insignificance. The disciples refused, in the face of unspeakable torture, the threat of death, and then death itself, to say he didn't rise. That makes them extremely compelling witnesses.

The circumstantial evidence surrounding the birth of the church is also telling. In Paul's writings he referred to the witnesses to the resurrection, 'many of whom are still alive'. He wrote to people who could, if they wished, go and challenge these so called witnesses and see if it was true. When the church started preaching 'He's alive' it would have been terribly easy for the authorities to quash this sect by wheeling out the body - 'No he ain't'. But they didn't. They couldn't. There was no body. They could have paid off one of the hundreds who claimed to have seen Jesus alive, and got him to expose the whole scam. They didn't. They couldn't. Why? A lack of will? It would have more than suited both Caesar and the Synagogue Leaders to squash this unholy rabble. But they couldn't.

History records that the church didn't burst into the scenes because of new ideas and great philosophy. It wasn't an advertising campaign, money, or war. It was that they preached that a man who was dead was now alive. They preached it with power - not the charismatic power of an orator (Paul was known to send people to sleep when he preached) but with the power of God (Paul, after said sleeping listener fell to his serious injury or death, prayed for him and he was healed!) and people were convinced.

It is terribly tempting to try and win an argument by belittling your opponent, setting up a straw man of a position and blowing it down. But what I have set out above is testimony. Witnesses, living and dead, of a moving, breathing, active God. You can tell a witness he is lying, but you can't tell him he doesn't exist. Even I didn't try that one in court.

There is more to this fascinating topic. The more philosophical arguments to be made from the universal experience of moral consciousness (we all have a moral law which we all have broken and therefore we all experience guilt), the natural presumption of God (deities are found in every single culture, tending to suggest that we are wired to relate to the supernatural, and built to assume that God (or a god) is there), or the universal human craving for affection (which Christianity explains by reference to a broken relationship that we look everywhere to fulfil). But I won't rehearse it all here.

The point I am making, which I hope is clear by now, is that there is evidence. You can disagree with the conclusions drawn, or take an opposite view on its reliability and credibility, but what you cannot do, is say 'there is no evidence'. That would be an intellectually unjustifiable position.

I suspect that those who say 'there is no evidence' are the very people who are terrified of what they might find were they to accept for a moment that there might be evidence to look into.

But when you open yourself up to the evidence, and consider Jesus for yourself, chances are over time you will begin to actually get to know him. When you reach that point, arguments like those presented above seem oddly superfluous.

Why argue for the existence of someone you know and relate to every day?

Isn't it obvious?

Aside from a brief spell when I was living alone in New Zealand I have never felt the need to prove the existence of my wife (some Kiwis may have suspected she was an inflatable figment of my imagination, a proposition I was keen to disprove). I place my relationship with Jesus in the same category.

Happily, for those of us who take the time to consider whether a case could be made for faith in Jesus, we find that not only is it true, but it is good news. Very good news. Real relationship. Hope in all things, joy in the darkest of places, peace amidst life's storms, access to wise counsel and miraculous intervention, and the certain assurance that you are loved for eternity beyond anything you had thought possible.

Not only have I found it to be true. I'm extremely glad it is.

The Referendum

Not that it will come as a surprise to anyone with whom I've discussed the matter, but I'm almost certain to vote No in the referendum on Scottish independence. I have, as honestly as I can, tried to keep an open mind. I'm not one of those who says that Yes voters are by definition daft. Many people who I love and respect are heading towards a Yes - even my wife is making noises in that direction (though possibly just because she likes disagreeing with me). But personally, it's going to be a No.

For what it's worth - here's a quick list of reasons why.

1. The whole world is becoming more connected. It makes no sense to put up more barriers.
2. The burden of proof has to be on those who support the change. Nothing has proved the case to me.
3. The Scottish Parliament is immature. I don't trust most of its politicians to make reasoned decisions.
4. UK Parliament wouldn't have overridden centuries of legal development and abolished corroboration.
5. The Scottish Parliament has an inadequate legislative system with no supervisory chamber (Lords).
6. For those reasons and more, the Scottish Parliament doesn't effectively hold government to account.
7. Economies of scale - pooling resources will always get a better deal.
8. Following on from that, Scotland could not support the banking system on its own 2008-style.
9. Same goes for defence etc. Makes sense to do it together.
10. Scottish culture is distinct, but we fool ourselves to think it's somehow superior and is held back by UK.
11. We have a shared combination of culture with the UK - frankly, I don't want to leave that.
12. Change always brings increased uncertainty and instability - why do it if there is no clear benefit?
13. Our economies are inextricably linked. Clear risks to business re additional costs of regulation.
14. Scotland has produced politicians and statesmen who literally shaped the world by the UK platform.
15. It seems based on the idea 'I'm not sharing'. I don't think that's very nice. Let the English have some oil.
16. It's a bit arbitrary. Why not an independent Glasgow? The peoples republic of Byres Road?
17. On that note - most of new oil is Shetland's. They will vote No. Bit unfair to take their oil, then?
16. North East or Northern Isles - all the oil is running out. That's no solid basis to build an economy on.
17. There are problems - but why not try and fix the UK rather than leave it, and still have same issues?
18. 'Independence' misunderstands history. We were never conquered or colonised. Our King became theirs.
19. The Yes campaign respond to genuine questions with vitriolic personal abuse. That's not nice.
20. Scottish distinctives flourish in the UK - Law, Education, Culture. No need to change.

I love being Scottish. I love being a part of the UK. I don't see why we should change that. No reason has been given to me that actually makes sense to me. 'Scotland's Future' just sets out a whole lot of political policies that any party could decide to pursue or not. It doesn't give good reasons to change the constitutional make up of the state.

So let's stay together. But even if not, let's try and be nice to each other where we disagree?

Indispensability

I'm speaking on leadership this Sunday evening, and have gone back to some thoughts I jotted down about 6 months ago, about the house group my wife and I lead at the Vineyard.

Our group has grown in the last year, and in fact now multiplied into two. A striking feature of that growth, is that it has happened at a time when I was less present than I would have liked to be, due to other commitments. There I was, worried about how the group would fare without my guiding hand (!) and it turned out they got along just fine. Better than fine.

Which got me thinking about the idea of being dispensable. We all want to be needed, don't we? And God loves to use us in ways which allow our giftings to flourish. But when we're involved in God's work, his plans go well beyond the limits our self-importance tries to place on them

There is a place for pioneering leadership. A big place.

But there is a problem when the leader makes him or herself indispensable to the cause for which he or she fights.

Without pioneering, creative, bold leaders, nothing new happens. Until David chucks the stone at Goliath, a whole army stood immobilised. Until Moses proclaimed freedom for Israel, a whole nation sat enslaved.

God does wonderful things through pioneering leadership.

The pioneer falters, however, when he or she becomes indispensable for the long term. When there is no vision beyond the charisma of the leader.

Elijah raised up Elisha. Moses Joshua. Even Jesus raised up 12 men to 'do the stuff' he'd done, to use a favourite vineyard phrase. And the thing with Jesus was he taught his disciples to do it, and to teach others to do it. He charged the disciples to make disciples. To make disciple-making disciples.

He didn't tell them to go and get others to follow you. He said go and teach them to be like me, doing what I do.

Paul, to a certain group of believers, said 'follow my example as I follow Christ's'. In other words follow me.

Jesus, said we'd do the same things, and greater things than him. Follow me, then go beyond me. (Lest I blaspheme, this applies to Jesus in his ministry as a human on earth, rather than in his divine supremacy).

Pioneering leadership begins with 'follow me'. But it's goal should always be 'go beyond me'.

When pioneering leadership does the 'follow me' but stops short of saying 'go beyond me', it stagnates into pride. The indispensability of leader damages the cause.

So let me bring it home. I can, like all of us (I hope), suffer from that bizarre combination of over- and under- confidence, arrogance and insecurity that is so unique to our species. God has made me a leader (mysterious ways, right?). But if I am leading as I should, I should see people being raised up not just to learn from my dubious example, but to go further than me. To far exceed my giftings, to leap well beyond my small wisdom and to exponentially better any fruitfulness I may have had. And when I see that, it is a cause for joy rather than sorrow.

Sometimes, to raise up disciples, to inspire new leaders and to ensure long term fruitfulness, we need to set aside our pride, and get of the way.

Class, Poverty and the Law

I'll warn you now.  This series of loosely connected thoughts has no conclusion. Rather, this is all question and no answer.  At least not yet.

Lately I've had an awful suspicion that the world is not really as I've always seen it. My life - my economic background, the stability of my upbringing and the variety and quality of my opportunities - isn't actually typical.

I know, I know. We've all heard that if you have a toaster and a sock you're in the top 0.1% of wealthiest people (or some only slightly less extreme stat). But still, you can't get away from the fact that you assume everyone has experienced life like you have. At least everyone from the same country as you.

I once assumed everyone had two parents who were married.

I assumed everyone had a loving, open, supportive family who encouraged them to express themselves and be emotionally healthy.

I assumed that everyone had a decent shot at doing well in school if they knuckled down.

I assumed that everyone could get a job if they really wanted one.

I assumed that anyone with a job could buy a house (because otherwise it wouldn't make sense, would it?).

I assumed that everyone who said they liked cricket was lying. Ok that one isn't so relevant. True though.

I assumed that everyone had financially stable parents who would help to bail them out if they couldn't quite get their career started.

I assumed that for those very very few unlucky ones who couldn't support themselves, and who didn't have family to support them, the state welfare system would take care of them generously - at least enough to feed, clothe and house themselves. Because in our society we don't let people go hungry, go cold or go homeless.

The result of all those assumptions is that I thought that if someone was poor - I mean really poor, unable to feed or clothe or house or heat themselves - it must be because they are somehow refusing to take the help offered. It must be because they don't want to live differently.

These subconscious preconceptions ran pretty deep in me - in fact I think I have only just realised how much they still informed my views and impressions.

Those are not true statements (cricket the exception).  So many people grow up with abuse or it's passive cousin neglect.  Hundreds of pupils in Scotland are going to school with no idea or example of what it means to be a working member of society.  A huge number of those visiting the UKs food banks are people who have jobs, but the wage isn't enough to feed the family.  Anecdotally, I am discovering that the benefits system, particularly in the last few years, uses any excuse to stop payments - even to those who are destitute.  From my studies I know that a huge category of asylum seekers are not entitled to any kind of benefit payment.  Is this the picture of a caring society that Lloyd George et al envisaged 70 - 100 years ago?

I've never been someone who is passionate about the poor. I mean I've bought my fair share of the 'Big Issue'. Right thing to do. Ease the old conscience. I'm a Christian, so of course I care. Just not any more than the bare minimum. My passions are elsewhere.

And that's ok - we're not all called to battle every single problem. I think God puts each of us here for a specific reason, so it makes sense that some are more passionate about certain things than others. But something has been stirring in me recently. I've been wondering why I'm a lawyer. Why the degree. Why the training.  So that I can make money for a big firm? So that I can work for huge corporations and bolster their profits? Wow. That'll put a spring in my Monday morning step.

Maybe God made me a lawyer, so that I can seek justice.

The bible tells us to 'speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy'

Which is fine.  Until you see people poor, destitute, needy and voiceless.

There is no conclusion to this blog. These thoughts are very much unconcluded.

But one thing I'm clear on.  It's not right for me - or you (sorry) - to sit in a middle class bubble thinking everyone looks, thinks and lives like us.  It's not right to go on our way to pursue careers, move to the suburbs and raise rich kids with no thought for those who just don't have those choices.

So what do we do?

Maybe I'll sell it all and be a monk.  Nah I'd be rubbish.  I talk too much for that.

The Slaughter of the Amalekites

One of the things I love about God is that he never seems to sugar coat the truth. If the Old Testament histories and narratives have one striking feature, it is how 'warts and all' they are in their revelations. In fact, this is one of the most interesting aspects historically of the Old Testament narratives. Those who write history usually omit their defeats, and yet the Old Testament is full of mess-ups, muck-ups and mistakes. The bible doesn't just tell us what we want to hear. Which I love. But at times it's a little tricky.

One of the most troubling passages of Old Testament history occurs in 1 Samuel 15, where God commands the destruction of an entire nation - specifically to include women and children. The story is part of Saul's downfall because he becomes conceited and obsessed with his own power and begins to flippantly disobey God. But when you pause and look from another angle, it's pretty hard to ignore what God asks him to do in this passage.

If we are honest, our immediate reaction to God's command in this passage is moral disgust. And yet, as Christians, we hold this passage alongside the rest of the bible as the word of God, the primary source of all of our knowledge and understanding of God, and arguably our sole source of understanding of his intervention in the story of Israel. So how do we get our heads round passages such as this one?

I am not a theologian or a biblical scholar (other than in the sense of every Christian being a scholar of God's word to some degree). I am just a Christian. That is by way of disclaimer should anything that follows offend or disgruntle the reader! But as someone who knows God, passages like this strike me as out of kilter with the character of the God who I have come to know. And so the following has been my thought process as I have tried to work this one through. If it helps you, great - if it doesn't, I refer you to my disclaimer above and accept no liability for your disagreeing with me...

First, a preliminary thought.

The very concept of morality is dependant on God. That doesn't, of course, mean that people who know God are more moral than those who don't - it is a statement of objective fact that there is no basis for the existence of moral thought without an external standard to which we are accountable - see an interesting debate here:  http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=61XaBy8JYHA. Without a god-given moral conscience, we are eventually left with the answer 'it just is' when we are continually asked 'why' a certain thing is wrong.

What that means, logically, is that judging the morality of God is a nonsensical endeavour. It is like using a calculator to prove that the calculator itself is wrong. Every basis we have for judging morality comes from God. And so when we tell God he was wrong, we are telling him that he has contravened a moral code which is itself defined by what God does. We chase our tails. We are telling him he is acting in an ungodly manner, but if God acts, the act is godly. This sounds like semantical gymnastics, but the point I am making is that God is God. He does as he pleases, and we are simply unable to assess or judge the basis of his activity. It is beyond our capacity.

That said, the reason this story causes such concern is that the command by God to destroy the Amalekites appears inconsistent with what we know from the rest of scripture of the revealed character of God. In other words, we don't understand. We don't understand why a God who reveals himself as a God of love, slow to anger, and patient, would require the destruction of an entire people. And it has to be OK to not understand. We have to be comfortable, to an extent, with not understanding, because God is beyond our understanding. It's a tension we have to live with.

But irritating people like me need something more to chew on.  What follows will by no means provide a full and satisfactory answer to that question. It is, after all, one of those things which we simply cannot fully grasp - his ways are higher than ours. But there are some factors which, for me, assist in scratching the surface just a little.

So here goes.

I'd suggest that the slaughter of the Amalekites was not what God wanted. Stay with me. I'm suggesting that from the fact that God required this awful thing to be done, it does not flow as a consequence that this act was the perfect will, desire and intention of god. All of this is post-fall, and has to be seen in that context. We always say 'well, in a perfect world, (X) wouldn't happen...' and the same applies here. In a perfect world, the Amalekites would not die. God created a perfect world. And we ruined it. From that point on, the story has been one of God redeeming, correcting, and changing things to bring us back into perfect relationship with him. And when things have gone wrong, it can take things that otherwise we would never do, to bring them right again. We would never send men running into a fire. But when something has gone wrong, and a house full of people is about to burn down,  we do. Think of the cross. Would a father ever want to have his own son nailed to a cross? No. But God did, because the conditions of the perfect world no longer applied, and for a reason beyond our understanding that act was necessary.

So we know that there was some reason by which this act - which is not something God would ever want - became necessary. To stay with the example of the cross, we are given insight into why God sacrificed his son. We see the consequences of it. We rejoice in the mercy, grace and incredible sacrifice demonstrated by God to win our freedom, to defeat our sin and to bring us back into relationship with him. God has revealed to us, at least in part, why the cross had to happen. And so we can see this as an aspect of what god does: he turns evil into good. Things that can seem when looked at in a vacuum to be terrible things, when considered in the light of god's greater plan are seen to be as much a reflection of god's righteousness and love as anything else God has done.

We understand the cross in this way because we know the other side of the story. We know that Jesus was God and so the cross was in fact an act of self-sacrifice. We know that Jesus rose to life again, having been obedient to death, and so the cross was not the final word over the life of Christ. We know that the cross won for us eternal salvation, reconciliation to God, and the opportunity of living a life of genuine joy, purpose and fulfillment. We know these things, and so we worship God for the cross.

The problem with understanding the slaughter of the Amalekites is that we aren't told all of the other sides to the story. It isn't immediately clear what this act achieved or was intended to achieve. It isn't immediately clear to us what provision God made for his mercy and love to be made known to the Amalekites. We aren't told what eternal fate met the Amalekites. We don't know.

There are a number of potential aims or explanations for the slaughter of the Amalekites, and I make no comment on the persuasive power of any of them in justifying what happened in our minds. This is all, of course, in the context of having to come to a point of being OK with not fully understanding it. The list of explanations I've heard or read fall into two broad categories.

1. God commanded their destruction to save Israel (and by extension, his plan to show his light and love to the whole earth) from the people the Amalekites would become. The Amalekites, so say biblical historians, became an oppressive people who included an individual by the name of Haman.  Haman would become an ancient Hitler figure, who came close to having the entire Jewish race eradicated. In the book of Esther his story is told. Had Saul obeyed God and destroyed the Amalekites, Haman would never have come to be. Into this category would also fall the argument that the slaughter of the Amalekites was intended to prevent the world at large being dragged further into sin and depravity by their example, given that they are thought to have been one of the most brutal societies around at that time.

2. This was simply divine judgement on the Amalekites. They had become an evil people, engaged in depravity rarely or never seen, including child sacrifice. They had been given 400 years to repent and change their ways as a people, but they had continued in a downward spiral. God simply called time on their disobedience. There is also an argument, supported by the passage itself, that this was divine judgement for a specific act of oppression in the recent past. The Amalekites had oppressed and opposed Israel as they settled into their land, because they were weak and an easy target. Years later, when God has prospered and strengthened Israel, they are repaid for their aggression. This was a demonstration, so the argument goes, of the fact that you cannot oppose God and win in the end.

All, or some combination of the above may be part of the answer to the question 'why would God do this?', or these factors may simply be human ideas which fall way short of what it was God had in mind. We just don't know.

Where does that leave us? How do we respond to this passage?

I would argue, the same way we are to respond to every calamitous thing that happens, every mass loss of life that we see. Our God is sovereign and could end suffering with a cosmic snap of his divine fingers if he so wished. He hasn't, so far. And, whilst there are some reasons suggested by well meaning humanity for why god might decide to allow these things, and there are some theological frameworks (usually going back to the fall as the game changer) which are put forward as a way of dealing with these problems, they still leave us with something short of an emotionally satisfying answer.

So what would God have us do? He would have us trust. Trust that he is good - all the time. Trust that his will is perfect. Know that he takes pleasure in no-ones destruction, that he wills no-ones demise. Trust that he brings goodness from badness, light from darkness. To know that he is in control - and when the world seems out of control, it will only go so far as he allows.

And if you are wrestling with the question of God's goodness, either when you read passages like 1 Samuel 15, or when you face awful tragedy in life, it is OK to ask. If Job and the Psalms teach us anything it is that it is OK to ask. To complain. To plead. It is OK to not understand. But what we can do is ask God to help us to trust that he knows what he is doing. We can ask God to show us what light he is bringing from the darkness.

And as I've walked that path with Jesus, I've found myself convinced that even though so many things in the world seem so wrong, and there are so many things I just don't - and may never - understand... He is very very good. He is faithful. He is just. He is kind. He is so patient. And he loves each and every one of us with a furious love.