‘“When do I give you your ticket?”’ Casper ten Boom to his daughter Corrie ¹
In the aftermath of Brexit, most of the UK, including myself, found ourselves waking up on 24th June to a new political landscape in which the universal unravelling of protagonists, from all spectrums of party politics, was absolute. In the blink of an eye – or so it seemed – the value of the pound fell, reports of racist incidents on the street escalated, Londoners arrived at work in tears, fears – founded and unfounded – were unleashed, anxiety grew exponentially, and fear of what might happen fell like a blanket, covering even those who now regretted their voting choice. In the event of an actual democratically decided Brexit, it appeared that no one actually had a plan. No one knew what might happen next and no one who had voted to remain in the EU wanted to steer the ship through the choppy waters of a post EU world. A dearth of clear leadership has left the electorate feeling vulnerable, disoriented, angry and scared. Watching the bombastic and condescending way Nigel Farage addressed other European members in Brussels on the 6 o’clock news left me feeling ashamed an embarrassed. I truly thought we were better than this.
Years ago, I was very impacted by the story of a young Corrie ten Boom talking with her father about a topic over which she also felt acute anxiety (their precarious future under Nazi rule and subsequent time in Ravensbrϋck concentration camp was not yet on the horizon). His paternal comfort came by reminding her of their journeys into Amsterdam together on the train. “When do I give you your ticket?” he asked his fearful daughter. “Why, just before we get on the train”, she replied². His point was concisely illustrated, that until that exact moment she would not need her ticket. He would look after it safely until that point. At the time it was required, it would be given.
So, ten days later, in this moment, here in the not-so-United-Kingdom, what is it that we require? Wisdom? Experience? Good counsel? Reassurance? Clarity? All of the above; and yet so much more. The British people are, like many around the world, disillusioned with political-speak. I – we – do not appreciate being bullied, lied to, told that a disengaged political elite know better than ourselves; we perceive ourselves to have been disdained, dismissed and diminished. Having had enough, we only seem to be offered more of the same. The only good thing to have clearly emerged so far is the surge of young people talking about, and engaging in, the political arena. At last! Even anger can dispel apathy.
However, I can’t help feeling that, at root, we are all looking for something more solid, more reliable and more certain than an ill-conceived new policy, an improved economic plan or a fresh face at the helm. I know I am. Pragmatism alone will not see us through these challenging days. Had the result been the other way round, it would still have demonstrated the width of division amongst us. The referendum only served to turn the light onto what already existed.
Where can we turn for leadership; what is the way forward and who will take us there?
I don’t know. But I do know that there is more happening that we see on the ground. I do know that there are bigger plans and purposes, for both good and ill, on the rise across the globe. I do know that God is not surprised; He has not gone anywhere and He is still in charge, busy wooing and winning the lost, the least and the lone into His Kingdom, which will never crumble. He has what we need for both crisis and calm. For this reason I am choosing to daily join the Psalmist, who said:
‘Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.’ (Psalm 20 v 7)
¹ From “The Hiding Place” by Corrie Ten Boom with John and Elizabeth Sherrill (1971 Spire Books, Fleming H Revell CO, NJ)
² Ibid
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