That Blue Book

It was 1990, I’d been singing professionally for a number of years, and working with some decent companies like English and Welsh National Opera. But now the big boys had come knocking and I was on the London Underground, on my way to one of my first performances as a soloist at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden—Beethoven’s Fidelio—the big time. However something much bigger was going on, without costume, make-up or orchestra— I had recently become a Christian. I had grown up in a typical, local C of E church, but nothing had taken root, nothing had grown and a few years at university had left my new found atheism in robust health. But then in 1990, as Marilyn and I took our first daughter for a Christening (hey, I was an atheist without integrity), at that point I heard it.  The good news that eluded my soul for year after year in my childhood suddenly took hold of me, and the doctrines and creeds all seemed unproblematically true. One day I mocked the virgin birth, the next day I believed it—go figure.

And so I found myself sitting on a tube, on the way to Covent Garden station, a shiny new Christian with a problem—I didn’t have a Bible.  The people I’d met at church seemed to mention the Bible and even pay attention to the readings and the sermon; weird. So I figured out that if I was going to be a proper Christian I should have a copy of the Bible. I dashed into Waterstones, ran to the spirituality section and was horrified to find that there was more than one Bible. I picked the blue one, because Leicester City play in blue, and later discovered that whereas the NRSV was a good choice; Leicester City wasn’t. But then I hit another problem as a went through security at the stage door: sure I had my pass, but maybe just this once they’d search my bag, maybe they’d find my new blue book.

In truth it was my identity I thought they might discover. That they might see a man who had decided that to sit with that ancient book was to sit with the voice of God, and to live by that ancient book was to walk the path of God. Well they didn’t search me, and over time the blue book made it out from my bag and onto my dressing room table next to a strong cup of tea, an opera score and some extra strong mints—all essential ingredients for a good performance. And eventually my colleagues would come off the stage, sit down and ask me to pray with them, because they too thought  there was something about that blue book.  ‘Scripture is God’s word to us, not human words about God...the intent of revelation is not to inform us about God, but to involve us in God.’ (Eugene Peterson)