IT'S JUST A CRUTCH!



The geyser - even mother nature has the odd pimple. 

The geyser - even mother nature has the odd pimple. 

I once had a friend, well, friend is perhaps putting it a little too strongly.  Let's start again... I once tried unsuccessfully to avoid a person called Graham who, every single time I saw him, would follow a pattern as predictable as Old Faithful.  We would exchange pleasantries, somehow the topic of God would come up.  Usually simply because he would notice I was wearing a cross on my necklace or something, and this would cause his verbal geyser to forcefully spew something along the lines of "Religion - God - Jesus – it's all just a crutch for weak people!" 

This was a few years ago and I found him quite intimidating so I generally just went dead-eyed and shuffled my feet when he was saying this stuff, but lately .. I keep remembering it.  I keep thinking of all the amazingly clever things I could have said.  It's been bugging me because - well, I'm broken.  And I need a crutch.  Putting the word "just" in front of the word "crutch" doesn't make that crutch any the less real or necessary.  The pair we have at home has been used to defeat my enemies (spiders), reach for otherwise unattainable things, open doors and remove obstacles.  For me trying to do life without God at the centre would be like trying to create a clay sculpture without using an armature.   My life would remain a formless splodge like my attempts to create anything using play dough - no matter what I aim to make, it always ends up looking like a pork loin (see below).

Fig 1: A pork loin

Fig 1: A pork loin

Fig. 2 A Salmon

Fig. 2 A Salmon

Fig 3: The London skyline with St Paul's in the foreground

Fig 3: The London skyline with St Paul's in the foreground

I think about Graham often and wonder how he’s doing.  He had a habit of carrying around books by Nietzsche and Kierkegaard which I suspect was akin to a man who parades around at the swimming pool wearing speedos and goggles but who is unable to swim.  I hope Graham is doing well. 

Of course I still occasionally imagine that I will see him again.  In my human brokenness I have to admit I hope he’s fractured a leg or something when I do see him.  It would give me such a gleeful joy to run off with his crutch yellingyou don’t need it!  It’s just a crutch!”

Speedos.  Not even once.

Speedos.  Not even once.

Flower Pearson