Testimony
This post was written by my youngest brother – Dr. Joel Rookwood. His intriguingly beautiful and provoking site can be found at Joelrookwood.com. I simply can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of my lovely brother. Read this and you’ll see why.
He writes:
Despite being raised in a Christian home, I spent my youth keeping religion firmly at a distance. I would have been a more likely candidate for hell than heaven a decade ago. Atheists will tell you neither exist, and that God didn’t create us, we created God. They would admit we differ from other creatures, but claim our ‘morality’ evolved in much the same way a big bang became earth and (some) monkeys became humans.
Evolutionary scientists frequently present theory as fact. The prefix ‘sci’ comes from the Latin for ‘knowledge’. Yet what strikes me about human knowledge is how incomplete it is. As we marvel at our advancements, we forget, in our arrogance, just how limited our minds are in the context of universal and eternal matters. So if humans are denied definitive evidential answers to some of life’s big questions, like “why we are here?” and “what is the meaning of life?” does this render such questions insignificant? Or are the ‘true’ solutions not based in what we might consider ‘proof?’
Some philosophers, armed with their PhD’s, claim truth does not exist; that we find meaning instead through our relative experience and interpretation of our social worlds – but if 2+2=4, some absolute truths must exist. The human condition is undoubtedly flawed, as news programmes testify with their coverage of famine, war and injustice. Many politicians frame such problems as political, social and economic, but what if issues like these are in fact fundamentally spiritual, and if the spiritual is synonymous with the biblical, and the bible is truth?
I would have laughed at that claim once. Then I read the bible. All of it – and realised that people are sinners and sin must be atoned for; that no human wisdom compares with God’s truth, and no political movement will outlive Christianity.
Mine is not the story of an instant transformation. When I was 21 I was unfulfilled and frustrated. It was then that I first encountered God. I was sceptical, sinful and selfish. I saw Christianity as a religion with a list of rules to obey, a host of pleasures to be denied, and a varied means of being ridiculed. Yet I was a restless, troubled spirit and I was intrigued by life and fearful of death. I believe God has used certain experiences to change my life. Later that year I was working in New York, and was in a club one night in Queens. My skin colour was as alien to the room as the music was to my ears. Just as I turned to leave I saw a wave of excitement as I heard the line ‘Jesus walks’. I stood there in amazement as swarms of New Yorkers moved to the sound of Kanye West. It’s a confused song – most lyrics I agree with, some I don’t:
They say you can rap about anything except for Jesus.
That means guns, sex, lies, video tapes,
But if I talk about God my record won’t get played Huh?
Well let this take away from my spins,
Which will probably take away from my ends,
Then I hope this take away from my sins,
And bring the day that I’m dreaming about,
Next time I’m in the club everybody screaming out
“Jesus Walks.”
Englishmen once sang “God save our queen” en masse, and many believed it (that’s not as much a statement about patriotism or monarchism as it is about theism). Now people are often afraid, embarrassed or disinterested in letting the name of God or Jesus fall from their lips – or they don’t want to ‘offend’ people. Kanye alludes to truth in that respect. No one person who has ever walked this earth had anything like the impact Jesus has had, yet many lack the faith to believe or the courage to respond. The human condition is indeed flawed, but although sin is rife, only Jesus can deal with it. Your ‘good’ deeds do not ‘take away from your sins’, Jesus died on the cross to eradicate them.
My faith has incurred sacrifices, and has cost me friendships, making me unpopular with certain people. Others accept or even respect me for my beliefs – some of whom have come to call me ‘Sir Joe’, because of all the global ‘charity work’ I’ve done for ‘the big fella’. The only title I truly deserve though is ‘sinner’. God is due the praise for any ‘praiseworthy’ act I’ve committed, and my only boast should be in him. My faith grew as a gift from my creator, punctuated by particular (often painful) circumstances. It was not bestowed upon me because I was or am in any way good – and I didn’t even need to cross the street to receive it, never mind the globe.
I am a Scouser, I vote Labour, I have a season ticket in Block 306 of the Kop; I am a fiancé, a son, a brother, a grandson, an uncle, an explorer, a writer, and an academic. All these earthly social roles involve interacting layers of identity. My Christian belief permeates beyond these layers. C.S Lewis wrote: “I believe in Christianity as I believe the sun has risen – not only because I see it, but by it as I see everything else.” God is not to be compartmentalised, used only in emergencies or taken out of a box on a Sunday and discarded throughout the week. Christianity is not merely a persona to be outwardly displayed amongst Christians, when life is going well, or through your Facebook account. I go to Ramilies Road Church in the Wavertree district of Liverpool that I call home. I love its focus, its people and its mission. But I won’t be saved by my attendance or my religiosity. I will be saved by God’s grace. For me: heaven exists, eternity is long and hell is hell; truth is real, God is good, I am a sinner, but Christ is my saviour. Irrespective of any roles I fulfil, places I go, goals I accomplish, friends I make, or lose – I want to be thought of and remembered primarily as a man who lived such belief.