Ukraine

Do you ever feel powerless, like a boat without a rudder, when you hear the international news headlines? This week there has been much talk around my family dinner table of a Russian invasion of Ukraine. I have listened to my children’s young minds coming to terms with a potential threat to the security of a nation which I’m not sure they could pinpoint on a map, yet which could potentially spill over to affect Europe’s stability and security.

The children have been anxious. There is a sense of feeling out of control. And they asked some big questions: will Russia invade us? What will happen if a nuclear weapon hits England (unfortunately, that is easy to answer). “Will Dad, or I, be conscripted?”, as they recall their school lessons about World War Two.

As their father, I have tried my best not to discount the situation, but to explain that these kind of geopolitical events occur every so often. I’m a child of the Cold War. I vividly remember watching the fall of the Berlin Wall on TV aged 16. It was a huge relief after growing up with a background sense of unease during the 1980s at the nuclear threat.

Sadly, I recall the Rwandan genocide, parts of Georgia annexed by Russia, the Balkan wars, 9/11. Every one is a tragedy. Every one affects the lives of individual people. Naturally, in Sheffield like all big cities, we live amongst a small number of Russians and Ukrainians. Whatever our neighbour’s national identity, at root each person is precious in the sight of God and deserving of respect and inclusion. Most of us are tossed around on the waves of history, with little direct control.

So I encouraged my kids to take the long view. And I drew them to the role of the ancient faiths. Practicing their age-old ways gives purpose and the courage to navigate life’s ups and downs.

The Christian Bible describes the effect of faith in Jesus Christ.

“This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast.“

In these turbulent times, I encourage each of us to hold on to that which is eternal and secure: a God who is above, and beyond, yet ever so close. The waves still come, but we keep our eyes on the horizon.