The name of that writer? One Michael Gove, who penned these words in The Spectator in 2015. But more importantly, it encourages us to feel a sense of empathy rather than superiority towards others because we recognise that we are as guilty of selfishness and open to temptation as anyone.' The writer continues: 'As the Book of Common Prayer puts it, "We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts.And there is no health in us." Christianity helps us recognise and confront those weaknesses with a resolution - albeit imperfect and fragile - to do better. I am selfish, lazy, greedy, hypocritical, confused, self-deceiving, impatient and weak. But, then again, which of us is not a hypocrite in some way, shape or form? Which of us lives up to the standards we proclaim for ourselves?Īs one Christian political writer has put it: 'Genuine Christian faith – far from making any individual more invincibly convinced of their own righteousness - makes us realise just how flawed and fallible we all are. Of course, the charge against Michael Gove has been not only that he took drugs but that he has subsequently been hypocritical – writing an article condemning middle-class drug use at roughly the same time as he was indulging in such things himself. And so it's seen as fair game to track down the past foibles which those in the public eye have committed – however long ago – and drag them, while shrieking with self-righteous unforgiveness, into the centre of the news. Secondly, it's good to remember that as society has moved away from its Christian moorings it has lost much concept of 'grace' – of undeserved forgiveness, of kindness, of unmerited second (and third, and ninety-third.) chances. So no political leader will ever be perfect either. We are all human we all make mistakes we all do wrong things not one of us is perfect. In the first place, we have to realise that as soon as we start pointing a finger at the flaws of others, there are several fingers pointing back towards our own heart – and our own equally numerous shortcomings. does it boil down to a choice between crack-heads and, er, blockheads? And even if so, does it matter, from a Christian perspective? How might we – if we can muster the weary energy in these turbulent political times – even start to think about the respective claims of the Tory leadership contenders? So, to over-simplify massively at this point. For example, Boris Johnson is also well-known for his adultery, and for a relationship with things such as truth, detail and courtesy that many have found highly questionable. Of course, there's much more to these candidates than drugs. Even dear old Jeremy Hunt has taken a 'cannabis lassi' – a yogurt-based drink with 'extra' ingredients. In fact (assuming this is a boxing ring metaphor) we haven't got enough corners, because we also need to find space for Andrea Leadsom, Matt Hancock, Dominic Raab, Esther McVey, who have all admitted taking drugs of one kind or another. And ladies and gentlemen, in the blue corner we have Michael Gove, who has admitted to taking cocaine in the even bluer corner, we have Boris Johnson, who in 2007 said he had tried cocaine and cannabis at university and in a somewhat paler blue corner there is Rory Stewart, who smoked opium in Afghanistan. Meanwhile, in what feels like a galaxy far, far away, the Conservative Party leadership contest is unfolding. A day or two ago I heard about someone living nearby who had to wait eleven hours for an ambulance to turn up.
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