My year on Twitter. What have atheists ever done for me?

Almost exactly a year ago, at the beginning of Lent 2014, I opened a Twitter account. I had decided to spend my Lent as a time to really listen to people, with the intention to understand, engage and connect.

When I say 'people' I meant in particular atheists. I figured that by listening to atheist strangers I might learn something about atheists closer to home, and that some conversations might be easier with strangers than with loved ones.

A year and 20.5K (!) tweets later, perhaps it's a good time to reflect and look back. And hey, a new Lent has arrived and who knows where this one will take me??

My life on Twitter turned out more varied and interesting than I had anticipated. I became political and tweeted about marching for the NHS; about the Greenbelt festival and LGBT issues; about knitting #ToriesMustGo beanies; about running; being a humanist Christian and lots more. And more importantly I made a bunch of friends and had heaps of fun!

But back to the atheists. After all, this blog is dedicated to them. :)

Having innocently joined the Twitter community I very quickly met atheists like I had never met in real life! The aggressive, militant, out-to-offend type.
I got to practice taking a deep breath, being gracious and forgiving, keeping calm and friendly A LOT!

To be honest, being offensive or aggressive isn't a problem for me. As long as people are willing to engage, sooner or later there is common ground, which friendships or at least connections can grow on. I have taken part in some pretty tough and painful conversations which have led to great friendships - once the waves had settled, the pain and anger eased ... and two people had remained, still looking at each other and eventually smiling too.

The bigger problem are the people (and not just atheists, of course!), who actually have no intention to engage; who just want to shout their message loudly and without distinction into the void.
So if you are a one-trick pony with just one message and seemingly nothing else in your life, chances are we will struggle to engage with and learn from each other.
Even then, I have learned to stop and ponder why some people might be so angered and so driven to just share that one single message.

I have learned from my time on Twitter that many atheists are...

• ... Angered by theists who reject scientific proof if it contradicts scriptural accounts/teachings (apparently there are many of those out there); especially when those teachings lead to harmful, hateful or discriminatory behaviour (i.e.being against LGBT rights; denying climate change; being against human rights in general; discriminating against people from other faiths or none; rejecting medical treatment, especially for children etc). I am with you, my atheist friends.
• ... Bewildered by theists who use 'religious language', which to an atheist has no meaning at best and which can sound patronising at worst. I have learned to avoid expressions such as 'I will keep you in my prayers' or 'I feel God is calling me to...'. I use this kind of language with ease when speaking to other believers, but I have learned that for many atheists it touches a nerve.
  I am finding that some atheists are curiously literal in their interpretation and find it quite hard to accept that other people take a much less literal view.
  When I say 'God is calling me to...', I don't usually mean that I have just heard a booming voice giving me instructions.
• ... Irritated by the superior thinking of some theists that everybody who does not subscribe to religion A will be doomed to eternal hellfire and misery. And some have been treated terribly by those who call themselves religious and godly. I feel ashamed on their behalf!
• ... Upset by a world in which suffering is a reality and even more frustrated that theists believe this world to be created a by a loving deity. This is probably the most meaningful issue for me. Especially since there has been a fair amount of discussion about this in the wake of Stephen Fry's thoughts on what he would tell God if he met him.

The issue of suffering is one we all have to grapple with, and we come to different conclusions.
I can see that simply disbelieving in God seems the easier option. Shit happens, and that's all.

Suffice to say, when I meet God the question of suffering is right on top of the agenda.

Perhaps the most difficult moment comes when atheists meet theists who don't fit into the "all-theists-are-thick,-uneducated-and-gullible" category. Sometimes I think that is the most frustrating of all.

So you question the Bible? You disagree with much it says? You don't think it is God's direct word? You think much of it is metaphorical? You think you have to read it through the lens of modern knowledge and understanding, and interpret it for yourself? You think it is your responsibility to question it?
Then why on earth do you follow it at all??!

If you atheists have taught me anything over the last year, it is to think about my faith much more and to be much clearer about what I believe and why. Frustratingly for me, that doesn't mean I can always convey these things to you. Often we seem to lack the common language and perception to be able to make each other understand. And a limit of 140 characters does not help! 

You have taught me to not assume that the path which seems so right and beautiful for me is not necessarily so for others. And that I must be careful in how I choose my words, because being hurtful and causing offense is just not something I want to do.
If I value your thoughts and feelings, then I should do my best not to hurt you in any way.

So, what now and where to next?

I don't yet know. Perhaps I am waiting for God's calling ... ;)

Here's to my atheist friends. I love you all! xx

The People’s March for the NHS - the day we filled Trafalgar Square

Let me be clear, I am not political.

But I support the NHS. I have worked in the NHS for 24 years and I love its principles and all it stands for.
The idea that health provision is not for personal gain sits deep within the National Health Services’ principles. So far that, if a patient or service user gives us a box of chocolates as a Thank-you gift, we as staff take it back to the office to share with everybody.
The underpinning concept is this: the NHS (and all its workers) will provide care for patients, regardless of who they are; whether they are rich or poor; whether they can afford to buy a box of chocolates or not.
So the idea that our health services should be run by private companies who (have to) make a private profit out of the health/sickness of the nation, seems simply very, very wrong.

I love the NHS.
And I love walking.

So when I heard about the People’s March for the NHS, started by a group of people in the North-East (referred to as the Darlomums) and retracing the steps of the 1936 Jarrow March from Jarrow to London, I immediately felt this was something I wanted to be part of.

Being not political I thought of it as a walk rather than a political march.
Having registered with the march for the last five days my anxieties were mostly around practical issues, such as would I have to carry my own luggage; would I need to buy my own food and find my own accommodation?

And being somebody who can take a while to relax around strangers raised the question whether I would fit in with an already well-established group?

I needn’t have worried.
The generosity and hospitality of people was amazing. We were fed and cared for every day. Community centres, the Methodist church and individual people opened their homes and halls for us to use. People cooked for us. Leisure centres let us use their showers. People were amazing!

And as for fitting in with the group?
On the end of my first day, having joined the group in the early afternoon and only walked 5 miles or so, standing along the sidelines watching the rally unfold, Rehana Azam (one of the Darlomums and organiser of the march) said to me “Come and stand with us. You are one of the 300 milers now!”
Thank you, Rehana. That meant so much!

Our core group of 30 people or so was really a bunch of quite ordinary people. And spending so much time together, it seemed easy to get to know people. Walking is a wonderful way to get to spend time and chat.

So my thanks go to all of you who have shared that journey with me.

To Rehana for keeping us all together and making sure nobody got lost. You are amazing! It must have been like herding cats.
To Craig for keeping us chanting and shouting, even when we were dead on our feet.
To Jo, James, Geoff, campervan “It’s a motorhome” Joe and medic Jordan (and all the others I have not met and cannot name) who were keeping us supported and safe by driving, transporting and organising things behind the scenes.
To Icarus and Vinny for managing to get me dancing and singing after marching 15 miles – even if they weren’t at their best the following morning.
To Barbara for her gentle patience and her great humour. And for convincing me that people beeping their horns and shaking their fists angrily are really angry with the NHS cuts, not me!
To Dr Raj, big John, Jim and Brian - men of few words, but when they speak it is worth listening!
To Dave and Ian for making me laugh all the way.
To Trish for always finding the nearest toilet.
To Nicola for her advice on foot care.
To Carol, Neil, Terry, Ann-Marie, Margaret, Fiona, Stella and Joanne for inspiring me with their perseverance and energy.
To Tone and John for great conversations along the way.
To Geoff, with whom I could have spent hours discussing theology and the role of the church in the political issues of health care and poverty.
To anybody else I may have forgotten to name.
And to all you unknown people out there, who offered us food, refreshments, accommodation and support along the way.

To those who clapped and cheered, shook our hands and even showered us with flowers!

You are amazing. Did I say you were ordinary? You are anything but ordinary! You are the most extraordinary bunch of people I could ever have hoped to march with!

Thank you for teaching me so much. By the time we reached London to be met by thousands of people I was beginning to realise that the future of our NHS is a political issue and that I cannot have an opinion about it without being political.

I am beginning to listen more carefully to what politicians are saying about it.
I am beginning to get involved in our local campaign to save our own A&E department.

I am political. Let’s keep fighting for our NHS!

Added April 2015:
The fight for the NHS continues, even more so in the run up to the general election.
To follow the events of the Marchers for the NHS, check their website. And join us!

Couch to 5K

I have enjoyed jogging on and off for some years now. I love the rhythmic (almost meditative) movement that comes with running and the freedom to let the mind roam.


'Couch to 5K' programmes aim to ease a complete novice into running - up to a level required to run 5 kilometers (or approx. 3 miles). That's equivalent to about 30 minutes of steady running.

There are many  'couch to 5K' programmes available on the Internet. Just google it.
I particularly like this one designed by the NHS. Apart from its staggered running programme (including downloads for mp3) it offers a lot of advice and support.