A Day in the Life

I was going to write this as a Facebook update, but it was too long, so it's going here:



Today I left the flat at 8:30 am and returned home at 8:30 pm. During that time I took 6 buses, 5 trains, 3 tubes and 1 DLR, and walked many miles pulling a wheely shopper containing 13 books, 4 large puppets, 16 finger puppets, some plasticine, some art materials, loads of sheets of important paper and some miscellaneous objects.

I gave 100% of my concentration and empathy counselling 3 troubled children and 3 troubled adults, and was a client myself in an expensive, tearful session.

Of these 12 hours, I was paid for 3, and spent 72% of that wage doing the above.

I am tired. I am post CYFA camp tired. Brother, sisters, do you hear me? Holler!

The Signs of Ageing

Two things happened this week that made me feel like a 70 year old woman.



The first is that I purchased my very first wheely shopper, pictured below.Isn't it just sex on wheels though? If you look very closely, you will see that it has a cylindrical side pocket for accomodation of a walking stick!



In my defence, I bought it as a convenient way to lug tons of toys around the primary schools that I work in. I thought the children would find the ladybirds appealing, and hoped it might earn me the nickname "The Ladybird Lady". I'll let you know.



The second geriatric incident was when I lost my bicycle glove. I lamented to my friend on the phone how I am always losing things like that and will have to buy yet another pair.



It wasn't until several HOURS later, that I discovered upon looking at my reflection in a mirror, that it was in fact caught in my hair.



If I'm like this now, I dread to think what I'll be like when I really am a crazy old woman.

Let's celebrate Crash.

I recently went to a 'Taster Day' for an institute of higher education which will remain nameless. It was one of those places that only I seem to find myself in.

Firstly, all the walls were painted. When I say painted, I'm not talking two coats of magnolia, I mean that they were actual paintings. So in one room you were in a forest, complete with sky and clouds on the ceilings. In the toilets, each cubicle was wrapped in climbing plants and flowers. I got an incling that this wouldn't be a run of the mill evening.

I took my seat ready for a lecture, and the speaker was a big burly man with a beard. The kind of man who you just dip in your pockets and give your purse and keys to, while reciting your pins and passwords, because it makes the whole inevitable stabbing thing quicker and more painless. I was surpised therefore, when he opened his mouth to sound almost exactly like Michael Jackson, but with about an inch thick layer of camp smeared on top.

"And so, we made some creations from lego, always trains. Always drawings of trains. Where are the trains going? Of course, I realised, they were trains to nowhere. Sometimes they crashed, and you know what? We celebrated Crash. Crash is OK"

Perhaps you re-read that in an attempt to understand it and make some sense of it. You were right the first time - it's just bollocks.

We then moved to an area of the room where there was a bit more space, and were asked to take off our shoes. This was a clear signal to me that we were about to do something physical and public and embarassing and insane.

I was right.

9 adults then unquestioningly skipped about the room pretending variously, to be walking on a hot pavement, cooling ourselves in a puddle, splashing, jumping, looking at things that weren't there in rapt wonder. Yada yada yada.

I'm sure you can imagine, this is exactly the kind of situation where I feel most comfortable and at ease, lacking in all self-consciousness or desire to run away as fast as I can (which, if anyone has seen me run, would not put much space between me and Fat Michael Jackson anytime soon).

Next we had to paint our feelings. Of course. I did some trees.

FMJ "Now, I want you to choose an object, or rather, let the object choose you".

A rubber snake chose me.

I then had to give my object a voice, and tell this story to my neighbour, who silently nodded while remembering what she had read that Freud thinks about snakes, and judging me.

We then had a group interview, which went something like this:

FMJ: Why are you here today?
Candidate no. 1: I'm here because I'm on a journey? And the experience I've had today has just been really amazing because I've really been in my body?

Everyone nods (except me).

Candidate no 2: Yes, it was incredible how released I was in the act of using the paints. My emotions just flowed out of me. I just feel really....centred?

Everyone nods (except me).

Me: I'm here because I'd like to do my job better.

Everyone looks at me. When they realise that's all I'm going to say, we move on.

FMJ: Can you tell me about some of the neuroses you developed in childhood, and how you address them as an adult?

As you may imagine, everyone did. At very great length and in painful and alarming detail. Everyone except me.

The next day I received a letter saying that I had not been accepted for a place, but that they would consider me after a year of humanistic psychotherapy.

Which makes complete sense, because the obvious conclusion to draw from all of this is that I am mentally ill and need help to get a better grip of reality.

Some Stupid Things I've Done Recently

Stupid Thing #1 - Revealing Too Much Too Soon

I was at a training day recently, and had lunch with a stranger who had been my partner in one of the morning exercises. My first mistake was this:

Lunch Companion: That's my bike there.
Me/Total Freak Wierdo: Oh right. What's it's name?
LC: ....it doesn't have a name.

I should have stopped here but..:


M/TFW: Mine's called Lola.
LC:....OK.

I had managed to recover a little after this, talking about normal things and not revealing any further my habit of personifying inanimate objects, but then two little beetles crawled onto my arm - we were eating our lunch outside:

M/TFW: Oh look! They're crawling up my arm!
LC: Yes, they like you don't they. (Note how her tone has begun to change to one usually reserved for children or the unstable).
M/TFW: They do, and I like them too.
LC: I'm a nature lover too. I was watching an ant crawl up my arm the other day...
M/TFW: Oh! oh! Oh! I LOVE ants! I have ants as pets. They're the most amazing creatures ever. Look, I've got an ant badge on my bag. I love watching them go about their business. The other day I was watching one and she was having a chat with another one...

I won't go on. I could hear myself and wanted to stop, but somehow I couldn't. She excused herself shortly after this. Note to self: at least try to pretend that you are a socially acceptable person during the first hour of meeting someone.

Stupid Thing #2 - Exaggerated Startle Reflex

I walked out onto my balcony and yelped when I saw that someone else was on my 1 metre by one metre outside space. It was my own reflection in the window.

Stupid Thing #3 - Paying Someone £92 for 3 Second's Work

I called in an electrician. Next time I'll flip the switch myself.

Stupid Thing #4 - Wearing a Skirt on a Bicycle

It was hot. Not hot enough however, to have the hem of my skirt tickling my nostrils, and revealing to Central London my black girl boxers covered in bees with Bee Mine written around the top (I know. Sexy.).

Stupid Thing #5 - Delayed Homeward Journey

I got on the bus on the wrong side of the road and got a hot sweaty lift to a place further away from my destination than I had begun.

Stupid Thing #6 - Over Enthusiastic Hugging

My friend came over and I ran out to hug her, swearing loudly in her ear as the door slammed behind me leaving my keys and my mobile on the other side.


How I've managed to hold down a job and not get arrested for anything so far is beyond me.

Amen, Elaine

"Deeply satisfying human intimacy, whether in marraige or outside, is in the end not dependent on copulation but on a faithful sharing of our hearts and lives with those whom we love, and a longing for their well being and peace. For it is then that God can be God and love be a gift."

Elaine Storkey in The Search For Intimacy

Jesus: Gay Icon?

I was reading an article in the paper entitled 'What Makes A Gay Icon?' with the tag line "Talent? Non-conformity? A touch of angst? And do they even have to be gay...?"

Lord Alli (whoever he is) chose Diana, Princess of Wales as his gay icon, for the following reasons: "Princess Diana continues to live on as an icon in many different ways: fashion icon, charity icon, feminist icon, British icon. Her place as a gay icon however, was cemented by a single moment during a visit to a Chain of Hope centre in April 1987. Taking the hand of an Aids sufferer, she shattered the widely held belief that physical contact alone could lead to the contraction of Aids, and offered hope and comfort to those in the gay community infected with HIV."

Does this remind you of anyone?

"A man with leprosy came and knelt before [Jesus] and said, "Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean." Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. "I am willing," he said.
Matthew 8:2-3

It strikes me that just as Jesus was prepared to touch the 'untouchables' then, he would be doing the same if he came today. He'd be openly touching and loving AIDS sufferers, which according to Lord Alli, would make him a gay icon.

I don't think Jesus would spend much energy removing that label from himself, because he was well used to being associated with those whose names were used as swear words. "You Samaritan" was perhaps the equivalent of "you queer!" or "that is so gay". I feel sure that if Jesus were around on earth today, he would be hanging around with homosexual people, not caring what it made people assume about him, and pissing off a lot of today's 'religious' people, just as he pissed off the pharisees back then.

"While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew's house, many tax collectors and "sinners" came and ate with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and 'sinners'?"
Matthew 9:10-11

One reason why I'm writing on this topic today, is in solidarity with the Bridging the Gap blog (that I've mentioned before here). Today they are doing a thing called synchroblog, which I don't really understand technically, but I've figured out enough to know that they want lots of people to link relevant posts to their blog today to get people reading and talking about it.

I think what they are doing at Bridging the Gap is really important for the church. They are Christians reaching out to gay people by genuinely listening and loving instead of condemning and ostracising. They hold a conservative view of what the Bible says about homosexual practice but they are committed to open, genuine and grace filled dialogue with those Christians who have reached a different theological conclusion.

The homosexuality debate is one that is tearing the church in two at the moment, and Bridging the Gap provide one voice that is attempting to bring back unity, without compromising their own convictions. This is a difficult and messy task which often leaves them in a kind of limbo land where they are criticised from every side by those who can only cope with reductionist, black & white views.

I passionately applaud their work and feel that their attitude could be transposed to so many other issues in the church today too. Do consider joining me in engaging with their dialogue which is often challenging and humbling. They've helped me re-think some of my own attitudes in a way that I think has been very healthy, both for me and for those I interact with.


Check them out here.

A Couple of funny links...

An Hilarious Video

God Texts the Decalogue

The Shack

Recently I posted the following apparently innocuous statement as my facebook status: "OddBabble wants to talk about The Shack." The following documents the surprising response:

Susanna Adlem at 18:20 on 27 March
I didn't love it, still reading it though.

Kevin Hargaden at 20:03 on 27 March
I'm in London in a few weeks. Fancy a chat then?

Louiz Kirkebjerg Nielsen at 20:43 on 27 March
I love it love it. Talk to me about it when you have time. x Louiz

Tanya Marlow at 21:49 on 27 March
i half loved it

Rachel Anne Burns at 00:46 on 28 March
haven't read it, though initially wanted to. This and other reviews pretty much some it up for me and I'm happy to leave it alone, wondering why so many Christians pursue a desire to read what is heresy when the bible gives a much more complete picture of who God is and of the nature of and answer to suffering.http://theologynetwork.org/christian-beliefs/the-holy-spirit-and-christian-living/starting-out/the-shack--good-news-or-bad-story.htm

Rosalie Lewis Garwood at 02:02 on 28 March
It's a shame that you haven't read this yourself, Rachel. Why would you form an opinion on something you don't know anything about. What about those who mock the Bible and say it isn't God's Word? Do you go along with that too? I have two copies of this book oh my desk and am in the process of reading it. Here is another website you can check out. Maybe it will give you a more balanced view of it.http://godmessedmeup.blogspot.com/2008/01/shack-book-review.html

Rachel Anne Burns at 08:55 on 28 March
I've read the review, but I found nothing in it that would cause me to change my opinion. Should I read pornography in order to form a balanced opinion on it if it's something I know nothing about?

Kevin Hargaden at 09:47 on 28 March
So the Shack is like porn? This is a new kind of argument right here. Your ideas intrigue me Rachel. Can I subscribe to your newsletter?

Badger Burns at 22:24 on 29 March
lol Kev, there was a link pasted of a fair review but did you visit it?The point merely is why put your head under a steam roller just to see what happens

Badger Burns at 22:34 on 29 March
and taking my own medicine now :pI have just read the site suggested by Rosalie. The title of the blogspot kinda put me off kilter immediately. My growing frustration about the book is that whenever any criticism is levelled at it the counter argument that is offered is that it is a work of fiction.My huge criticism of the author and /or publishers is that they are saying that the book is being used massively by God.I dont understand why God would endorse a book saying that Jesus does not want people to become Christians and that we limit God to the pages of the Bible.A book that He Himself chose to 'limit' himself by in describing himself.

My response to all of this is as follows:

I am someone who holds the Bible in the very highest regard: I consider it to be the words breathed of the God who made the universe. I consider it to be infallible. I consider it to be the only and true epistemological, ontological, philosophical, theological, stuffofeverydaylifeological authority.

Yet I see no contradiction between holding this view and believing that as His created creatures create and interact, God provides echoes, glimpses, shadows, pictures, parables and whispers that point to Himself and His character. In this way I can glimpse God in lots of places which are not the Bible.

For example, I was reading about how ants (the most amazing creatures on earth) exist as a superorganism. They interact like one huge insect whose different limbs perform different roles, each for the benefit, growth and nurturing of that wider body. What a helpful analogy for the way Christ longs for the church to function, I thought to myself.

Or there is the Ani DiFranco song which has the line: "What kind of paradise am I looking for? I've got everything I want, but still I want more." Wow, that really reminds me of how much I strive and drive myself in all kinds of ways, but never find myself satisfied by it. She's got it right that I'm looking for a paradise, except that it really exists in heaven, I thought to myself.

Or there is the Victor Hugo novel Les Miserables, and the musical of the same name, in which Jean Valjean, having stolen the silverware of the benevolent bishop who had offered him shelter when no-one else would, finds himself rescued by that same bishop when JV is caught, by claiming to the cops that the silverware was a gift, offering his two silver candlesticks as well, chastising him to the police for leaving in such a rush that he forgot these most valuable pieces. What a clear and creative picture of God's grace in not giving us the punishment we deserve, and heaping blessings on us instead, I thought to myself.

Or there's the work of fiction, The Shack, which is a made up story, but which explicitly seeks to think creatively about God and offers a view of Him, a shadow, a human thought, about something against the backdrop of the final authority of the Bible.

Sure, there are things that William P. Young (is this just actually Will Young having a laugh at us all?) says that I don't agree with and that I don't think are particularly biblical. So, I ignore those things and read on, remembering that The Shack is not the Bible - the Bible is. I'm happy to disagree with one or two lines of a work of fiction.

I should perhaps come clean here and admit that I have a soppy subjective reason for liking The Shack. There's a scene in it where the protagonist spills out his rage towards God about the suffering he has experienced, screaming passionate, bitter and tear-drenched words to a God who responds, not with wrath or retaliation, but by inviting him in to eat a specially cooked dinner.

There may have been a clue [a few posts ago] that I had one or two issues with God that I was pretty hung up about myself. This little passage in this novel reminded me that God knows those angry thoughts already, that good relationships mean communication, not sulking, and that God is gracious, kind, patient, generous, merciful, gentle and compassionate.



This led to a dramatic and renewed intimacy with God that any friend has when they finally admit what's on their mind, make up, & get back to the business of enjoying the relationship. If it's not God who brought that reconciliation about with His daughter, I don't know who did. God can use flawed books that get things wrong, just as he uses flawed people, like me, who get things wrong.

I could easily have spotted any of those things in the Bible, but that same holy book tells me that Jesus calls his followers [sheep]. That's to help us remember that we're often stupid, slow, myopic and in need of a shepherd. Sometimes this sheep needs a bit of outside help to point me back to the Word that is true and reliable. Sometimes God uses flawed, imperfect means to point us back to His perfect Self.

It strikes me as a shame, a real shame, if we close our eyes to the many and wonderful ways that God shows himself through all kinds of creative endeavours, simply because the person creating it sometimes (always, in some way) gets bits of it wrong. We are throwing the God-glimpse baby out with the wider cultural bath water.

Yes, I do get the fact that Young seems to be setting the book up as some kind of new Christian manifesto, and that this means we might handle it differently to a secular song or book about ants. But I still don't feel it's necessary to go to the extreme of saying that by reading it I am expressing a desire to water down the Bible as my ultimate authority. If we are thinking Christians, surely we can read, listen, view anything through the lens of Scripture, discard the parts that contradict it, and rejoice in the creaturely things that help point us back to our, and their, Creator.

I doubt this post will have changed anyone's minds on this, but the joy of a blog is that I get to rant uninterrupted for a while and bask in the warmth of my own opinion before the comments begin to pile up...

Peter & Pam: An Update

Peter and Pam were a much more tenatious couple than I gave them credit for, it seems. After letting their twigs blow away in the wind, I think their conversation actually went a bit more like this:

Peter: Ha! She thinks that'll stop us does she? Stupid, stupid human. She doesn't realise the pigeons rule the world. I'll just put some more twigs in this plant pot instead.
Pam: But what if she moves them too?
Peter: Then I'll put them in that bucket, or that watering can, or in her bed.
Pam: Wow Peter, we really do rule the world.
Peter: Yes. Or rather, I rule the world. Now I've got you up the duff I'm going to leave you to bring the kids up in this plant pot while I impregnate some more birds and ruin another human's life by preventing her from going on her own balcony in the lovely spring sunshine. You make sure you do your thing of flying in her face if she tries anything.
Pam: But Peter, I thought you loved me!
Peter: Hahahaha!
Pam:!
Peter: Don't worry, I'll be back. I need to make sure this whole balcony is covered in pigeons. Hahahahahaha!

And so you are up to date. Pam was obedient to Peter's request that she fly into my face if I try to go on the balcony. Well, in reality she just flew in the other direction, but because my balcony is quite small, it had the effect of me screaming and running inside my house. I mean proper, Penelope Pitstop screaming.

Pigeons really do rule the world. Or at least my balcony.

Counselling: Spiritually Irresponsible?

Another post with a link to another blog post .

I would like to continue the discussion there, but I think the comments section of a post that is now a few posts old might mean fewer readers.


In response to the last comment by Clairebo , I think I need to clarify the question I am asking. I am not saying that everyone needs to have 'Evangelist' as their full job title - of course I am recognising that there are many necessary and noble roles in a society (and a Kingdom). It's also true that most of those still leave room for evangelism among colleagues etc. so a surgeon is not muted from verbal proclaimation of the gospel.


I suppose I am thinking more precisely about the fact that as a counsellor, those verbal opportunities are not there - in fact to take an opportunity in that way would have me listed in the back pages of the BACP journal for professional misconduct. Counselling is also often an isolated role, particularly in private practice where I may not have any other colleagues with whom to verbally proclaim. It's this aspect of the work that I am wrestling with, rather than the nature of the role itself.

If that makes any sense at all, I'd appreciate others' thoughts...

The Importance of Stories

Read this (if you like)

This is a link to a post on a blog I discovered recently that seeks to bridge the gap (hence the name) between Christians and gay people, and also does a very good job at showing grace to the spectrum of gay christians, christians with a view on gay people and gay people with a view on christians. It sums up the point I have reached recently on not just this issue, but many others.

I like the fact that it acknowledges that we don't all have to agree with each other, but that we should listen to one another if we claim to love people. It's been a journey for me to get to this point and I'm still on that journey, having started from a postion of being quite defensively scared to hear different views. I hope I'm learning, like the writer of this post, to show more grace to those whose views are different to mine.

I think it's a viewpoint that would serve a lot of us well to keep in mind whoever we are, and whatever issue we are thinking through. It's a messy and not clear-cut route, but it seems to me that's what life is like anyway, so we might as well live in the reality of that.

I Did a Bad Thing

I hate pigeons.

I hate the way that they refuse to respect me - when I'm walking or driving or cycling, they don't fly out of my way in fear as they should, but saunter in front of me so that I have to avoid them.

I hate the fact that they so adamently refuse to die, wandering around London with gangrenous stumps instead of legs, or bulbous puss-filled sores, as if it didn't hinder them in the least.

I hate the fact that they wake me up in the morning making a sound like someone having bad sex who can't be bothered anymore to try to sound like they enjoy it.

At a previous address I lived next door to an old lady who was obsessed by her hatred of pigeons. She had several nesting in her roof and every day she powerhosed them away before scrubbing at the encrusted faeces on the walls and patio. Whenever I spoke to her (as infrequently as I could manage) the subject was pigeons and how passionately she hated them. I thought she was just a mad old woman, but recently, I think I am turning into her.

I was furious to find that two of the winged vermin had decided to start living on my balcony. I had visions of opening my balcony door to an ocean of pigeon poo and rabid pecking each morning, with an ever increasing chorus of their cheap porn moanings.

I followed my usual morning ritual of opening my balcony door cursing them them and then glaring at them angrily as they perched on the opposite building, clearly ready to return the moment I stepped back inside. I investigated the balcony and discovered that behind a deckchair propped against the wall, they had begun to build a nest. In my rage, I lifted my deckchair away and exposed the nest to the elements. Ha! That'll get rid of them! Hahahaha!

I closed the door and got that sinking feeling you get when you have been very, very bad.

That little nest was made up of a pathetic little collection of twigs that they had been gathering for weeks (there isn't much flora in Peckham). They had begun to fashion it into a little circle.

There were two of them. One must have been the mummy and one must have been the daddy. They were husband and wife pigeons, trying to build a home for themselves because they were ready to have some babies. They were young and in love and this was a very special time for them. Then I, like a big devlish brute, trampled on their world because of my own selfish needs.

They must have flown back this morning to find that their home had been destroyed. "Oh Peter, our home! Our lovely home that we made ourselves! Where will our babies be born? Our beautiful unborn pigeon babies - the fruit of our innocent pigeon love!" Says the mummy pigeon. "We must accept our fate Pam. We are only pigeons. We are the least loved of all the flying animals. Just pigeons Pam, just pigeons. We are lucky we still have 3 stumps between us. We deserve no better." replied the daddy pigeon.

I heard them this morning. Was it just me, or was their cooing more like weeping?

Farting as a Defence Against Unspeakable Dread

The above is the genuine title, and below is a genuine paragraph from an article in the Journal of Analytical Psychology:

Although his subsequent development has been clouded by a series of losses and sudden changes of caregivers, P has maintained an unexpected desire to relate, showing considerable innate resilience. When feeling endangered, P had developed a defensive olfactive container using his bodily smell and farts to envelop himself in a protective cloud of familiarity against the dread of falling apart, and to hold his personality together.

Just For Today...

I am in the middle of Massive Faith Crisis #234534. It's one of the deeper, more long lasting ones of its kind. It has been triggered off partly by some current painful events, partly by the same old unresolved things which crouch and wait to bite me on the arse again purely to compound new things, and partly by the inexplicable crap I observe in the lives of people I love.

It is largely fuelled along by that 3 letter word which is ubiquitous inside the walls of my skull, and behaves a bit like an itch deep inside the unreacheable depths of a plaster cast, which no ruler or other long slim tool can ever seem to reach: Why.

Last night I read this in an otherwise toecurlingly annoying book which I am too embarrassed to admit the title of. It is noteworthy that the following is a quotation from someone else:
"If you belive God is obligated to explain Himself to us, you ought to examine the Scripture...[It] tells us we lack the capacity to grasp God's infinite mind or the way He intervenes in our lives. How arrogant of us to think otherwise! Trying to anyalyze His omnipotence is like an amoeba attempting to comprehend the behaviour* of man."
To illustrate his point he directs us to Sciptures such as these:
"It is the glory of God to conceal a matter."
"The secret things belong to the LORD our God."
"As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother's womb, so you cannot understnad the work of God, the Maker of all things."
"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the LORD. 'As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.'"
...What this means...is that many of our questions - especially those that begin wht the word why - will have to remain unanswered for the time being."

I find this utterly unsatisfactory. I hate not getting what I want, especially when what I want is answers. So in the shower this morning I said Angry Ranting Prayer #1089610596810652, expressing this.

If I was a charismatic Christian I would say: And God answered by saying 'Just for today, trust Me'.
If I was not a charismatic Christian** I would say: And after I had finished praying I rememberd the film I had watched last night, "Things We Lost in the Fire". It was quite an unremarkable film, but it featured Narcotics Anonnymous meetings. One of the things that members of NA, AA or GA famously say is "Just for today: I will try to live through this day only, and not tackle all my problems at once." followed by lots of other 'Just for todays'.

I have no idea what it's like to be driven by the physical desire for a chemical fix, but I do know that part of what makes these times so torturous for me, is the constant pressing and fingering in my head of the whys and whatifs. I feel as if I'll never get any peace unless I get a resolution for them. In the past I have always felt I have found answers and was surrounded by people who had enough certainty to keep me going. Now that this is no longer true, that lack of resolution threatens to drive me in directions I never thought I would or could go, just to get some peace. The guy in the film said he had a recurring dream of having a bag of junk in one hand and money for his next fix in the other, which gave him a feeling of perfect peace. But he was saying this at the NA meeting, because he had chosen not to go down that route, but instead, 'Just for today...'

So just for today, instead of choosing my own kind of bag of junk, I will say that Jesus is real, Jesus is Lord, and Jesus is right.

"You do not want to leave too, do you?" Jesus asked the Twelve.
Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God." John 6:67-69.

*American spellings corrected.
**Come on, you don't expect me to know what kind of Christian I am at this point do you?