The BFG, Birthdays, BIkes, new beginnings and me.

So I recently had a significant birthday. Alongside a beautiful cake, an original song written by my children, an orange bike and a surprise party, I had a family trip to the cinema to see the BFG.

It was one of my favourite books as a child, and so I was excited as well as nervous, memories of the Johnny Depp ending to Charlie and the Chocolate factory have made me fearful of what Hollywood can do to stories I love. 

Anyway, I needn’t have feared- it was beautifully and gently filmed, funny and kind and faithful to the original. But what I wasn’t expecting was to have any sort of faith experience in Aylesbury Odeon, and yet…God speaks.


There is a moment in the film where the BFG and Sophie, hunting for dreams, catch a nightmare- the most horrible, cursed, terrifying, black hearted nightmare, a trogglehumper…they catch it, and cork it in a bottle, in order to protect the world from the horror. 

Later, when it becomes necessary for them to release the dream into the minds of the sleeping giants, the BFG tells Sophie what it’s about…in a low, terrified voice, he tells her that the dream is this….

“Look at what you has done. There be no forgiveness.”

And he’s right…..that’s it…the horror, the nightmare, the worst thing imaginable is this; that there can be no forgiveness.

That every bitter thought, every selfish deed, every dishonesty, unkindness, cruelty, lie, unfaithfulness, disloyalty will stay with us, indelible, unforgettable, unforgiveable.

Look at what you has done….

Look at what you has done…

There be no forgiveness.

And yet, Jesus offers us a life free of that nightmare. He promises us a relationship which means that there is nothing, no sin or shame too great, that cannot be forgiven. Whatever and whenever, he will absolve us, and he promises us that when God looks at us, he sees us washed clean of all our imperfections.

No guilt in life, no fear in death, this is the power of Christ in me. What a way to start a new year. What a way to start a new way of understanding who you really are.

Praise God that he is so merciful, perfect and loving that although we deserve “look at what you has done” he offers us “As far as east is from west— that's how far God has removed our sin from us.”

And all we have to do is stretch out our hand to take the gift of grace that he is offering.

Heavenly father, thank you that you love us so much that you sent your only son to die for us before we knew you. I am sorry for the ways in which I have done wrong. Lord God I ask for your forgiveness, thank you that through Jesus I can come to you and receive it. Lord I want to live a life worthy of you, with you alongside me. Amen.


After my recent significant birthday, a friend who had come to my surprise party contacted me to ask about faith.  She had been brought up as a Christian but fallen away, and was surprised to meet my wonderful church family at the party. The last time we had met it is fair to say that God did not feature in my life. She was keen to understand why i now did the whole faith thing. Here was my response...

“I guess there's 2 parts to the answer, firstly why did I go (to church), and secondly, why did I stay.

I can answer the first relatively easily, the second is more complex and evolving, so I’ll probably just start with the first…..

In the background I’ve always had a sense of Jesus being a good guy, a role model, someone to emulate. I wanted to live the life of, “Loving my neighbour as myself” and, “Turning the other cheek” because that seemed right. In that, then, I suppose there must have been a sense of Jesus as having a special significance…..possibly being linked to some sort of God in some sort of way, but the details of that didn't seem important. I felt like I could decide to live by these morals/teachings and do it well by trying harder.

Photo by RuthBlack/iStock / Getty Images

Photo by RuthBlack/iStock / Getty Images

Alongside that feeling, when I was in sixth form at school I got to know a Christian family who were different from other people I knew; They were generous……opening their home to complete strangers, welcoming, genuinely interested in people, forgiving and tolerant.  They felt different, their home felt different.  Again, it seemed that they had something I would like to emulate, and I thought I could do it by trying hard.

So I set off to “be a good person”; for me that meant a doctor, mother, wife, friend, moral, socialist kind of a person.

Except what happened is that I couldn't. In my mid thirties, 3 kids, life looked good from the outside...I had a great job, a marriage, a home, friends, a life that would be judged a success by most onlookers...but the reality was that I felt disillusioned and exhausted at work, our marriage was struggling, I found myself reacting increasingly cynically to the world, unable to open up in honest relationships with friends and living a life that often didn't seem generous, open, forgiving.  I found myself utterly unable to forgive a nasty betrayal despite genuinely wanting to and not able to understand why I couldn't... Because I'm good at things, because I try hard, because I've always been able to succeed by trying it challenged me that it wasn't enough. I couldn’t shake the horrible anger and began to see its effects on my relationships and family.

Then my neighbor's husband died suddenly. She was pregnant with their third child. I wrote her a card, saying I was praying for her...and stopped and asked myself.. To who? And why? This Jesus who seemed to offer words that made sense but were impossible to follow?? I found a copy of the bible and opened it randomly...1 Samuel...genocide and war...

It seemed obvious that I was missing something.

So I thought maybe I should try going to church. This is daunting if you don't know what to expect, and what will be expected of you. I asked around, I hung around on Sunday mornings, hovering on the high street with my pram in the rain..not quite daring to commit..until eventually I made it into a service at Cornerstone...heart racing, nursing a fractious baby at the back, and out the door so fast at the end, but back again a fortnight later.

It might have been the second service or third when the pastor said during a sermon..” if you are having trouble forgiving it may be that you haven't been forgiven yourself".  I remember my feelings hearing that...huge desire to avoid confronting the fact that I might have some culpability..because I'm a good person, I try hard, I do the right thing...and the betrayal was not my fault, and my anger is justified, and my forgiveness, or attempts at are another mark of my own goodness and effort...annoyance that I am being asked to stop looking at the betrayer from a position of judgement, but to look at myself through Gods eyes...and look at my life through his perfect lens...and fear...because if someone who didn't know me could speak so clearly into my life and my situation..then maybe..just maybe...there was someone/some thing/ some power speaking to me whether I wanted to hear it or not.

Maybe God exists whether I chose to hear him or not.

Maybe I am far from him whether I am a good person who tries hard or not.

Maybe it is in sorting out my relationship with him that I become free to become more who I want to be, and able to live in a small way, more like Jesus...more like the family who feel different to be with...more able to forgive, and to be open, and to love.”

And that was the beginning….


We talk a lot about a God of restoration – we are familiar with the concept of a God who heals.  Yet we often say these things from a position of relative security and strength.  When we find ourselves in the midst of a storm – when we are struggling and broken and can barely stand – what then?  It can feel impossible to imagine how things could ever be fixed, and it is tempting to cry out for things to be back to the way they were. It was during one of these times that a friend of mine offered Kintsugi as a picture for me. 

Kintsugi:  ‘to repair with gold’

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold or silver lacquer, and acknowledges that the piece is more beautiful and highly prized for having been broken.

It is a comforting thought that our breaks, our damage, can indeed be mended.  That broken pieces can be made into a cohesive whole again – and rather than bearing ugly scars, these marks ultimately become the strongest parts of the pot, and the pot itself becomes more beautiful than ever it was before. 

It strikes me that a God who delights in creating streams in the wasteland might also rejoice in creating rivers of gold through broken clay.  That a God who could create afresh - sweep things away and start anew – may instead choose restoration of the broken.  Maybe a God who turns defeats into victories might delight in tenderly re-crafting someone, and turning their biggest breaks into their beauty. Suddenly, rather than looking back towards the way things were, and wishing damage had never been done, it becomes much easier to press onwards with breaks that are beautifully and tenderly mended, rather than hidden.

It’s not about staying broken, yet it’s not about being totally new either – the ‘you’ doesn’t get lost.  In fact, the uniqueness of ‘you’ becomes even more evident.

If you’re broken

Maybe it’s not about starting from scratch -

Maybe you were created beautifully in the first place.

Maybe you were fearfully and wonderfully made from the start.

Maybe the Potter doesn’t expect you to fix His work –

Maybe He doesn’t expect you to pull the pieces back together yourself.

And maybe, just maybe, broken will become better than new.


Jesus faced the same testing we do – even Jesus was broken.  No-one makes it through this journey without breaking somewhere, yet the breaking is not unforgivable, it does not incur God’s wrath – far from it.  But the harsh truth is that there is nothing admirable about staying broken. 

You cannot ‘push on toward the goal’ when things are so broken that you can no longer stand... maybe that’s the time to stop striving and let the Potter do His thing.  Maybe that’s the time to acknowledge that God opposes the proud, and take a more honest look at your own attempts to fix yourself.

Visible scars give other people the chance to show their own.

None of us are polished, unbroken showpieces, not one.  When repairs become something to rejoice over, we may finally give ourselves permission to let our carefully crafted facades slip a little.

Seeing someone’s brokenness become their beauty gives others freedom to admit their own cracks, gives them hope that they too can be restored, and creates an atmosphere of honesty and openness in a world that prizes fake perfection.