'What on earth is he doing?!' I exclaimed. From the other sofa, I got that look from Mrs F before she added 'hey Mr Gloomy, it's just one shot so give him a break!'. 

'Give him a break' I thought with barely masked frustration. The guy's cruising towards the only golf major he hasn't achieved and he's about to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. The truth was Rory McIlroy was in trouble but it wasn't the kind of trouble he concoted on the infamous final round at Augusta in 2011 when the wheels came off in spectacular fashion. Nonetheless, by chipping the ball into Ray's Creek on the 13th hole when he had acres of green to work with, it felt like at least one wheel had come off and he was going to have to hang on for dear life to stand any chance of putting on that coveted Green Jacket. All of a sudden a three shot lead evaporates and to add insult to injury, his friend and compatriot Justin Rose is heading towards the clubhouse one shot ahead.

The expectation on his shoulders already huge was matched by an overwhelming encouragement from fans in person and around the world who were willing Rory to get this over the line. But the experience of Rory at this event in recent years has been a rollercoaster. Yes, he's come close on occasions but there also appears to have been a mental block on too many occasions and the demons of 2011 resurface and the most gifted golfer in a generation starts getting the 'yips' (read mistakes) and no amount of talent will help if the space between your ears is screaming 'failure....again!'

Here is where the Sports Psychologist Bob Rotella needed to earn his money. In the buid up to The Masters and throughout the week, Bob had been helping Rory to shut out the white noise and play his own game. Part of that was the pragmatism to acknowledge that mistakes will happen but make your next shot your best shot.

Over the next five holes we would see the past 11 years rolled into a microcosm of Rory McIlroy. The genius of playing a shot with so much bend and precision to land a few feet from the hole on the monster 15th hole. The failure of his putter to convert that shot. A ridiculously great shot at the penultimate hole that got him back to winning. Then the straightforward chip shot to the final hole somehow managing to be chucked in the bunker, only for a brilliant chip out but then... horror of horrors, a missed putt that sucked the life out of millions of people watching, me and Mrs F included at well after midnight. Now he faced a playoff with Justin Rose. How would Rory recover? Had he blown his chance, his best chance possibly ever of winning the one he wanted most? He looked shattered. And yet...

I turned to Mrs F and said 'I think he can still do this'.  With tired eyes she nodded but in truth I think she doubted. It all depended which Rory turned up to play and whether he could put the disappointment behind him. Would it be the fragile nervous Rory or the confident 'I know I can do this' Rory. In the end it was the latter. He played the final hole again this time to perfection and when he rolled in that putt, he sank to his knees and the sheer relief poured out of his body. Moments later, relief gave way to ecstacy. Just like the immortal line when Andy Murray won at Wimbledon 'the waiting is over' Rory is champion.

As I consider this Easter week, I heard Rory say something which stuck with me. He said that his quiet and consistent friend and caddie Harry Diamond said to him as they got in the golf cart to set off for the play off hole 'well pal, you'd have taken this on Monday morning' to which Rory said 'I took confidence from that'.

I look at Easter week and consider that a lot can happen in 7 days. The expectation of those palm waving, cheering, adulant crowds gives way to an experience that moves from box office theatre to bile threatening hate. In the space of days, many of the crowd would turn through 180* and throw away their palm branches for clenched fists. Is there any encouragement to be found? Even His closest disciples doubted. Jesus on his journey expresses his fear and doubt about what lies ahead and His Father responds in affirmation so that He can keep going.  The pain and agony of the cross could not be avoided but the grave would not hold Him and the joy and ecstacy of victory over death would be manifest on Easter Sunday. Hope fulfilled.

As I said last Sunday, we cannot skip from Palm Sunday to Easter Day and pretend that the bit in the middle didn't happen. Our lives are a combination of victory and defeat, of joy and sorrow, of agony and ecstacy. But for me, it is the real hope of Easter Day that keeps me going through the tough times. That whatever darkness I'm encountering, I trust in a Jesus who has gone through the blackout of death and emerged victorious and now lives forever. This year I hold on tighter to this hope than ever before. Death is defeated. Satan is conquered. Strongholds are broken. Jesus reigns. May the hope of this give you renewed strength and all the peace you need with the struggle you're in right now to just keep going. 

Do you see what this means—all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? It means we’d better get on with it. Strip down, start running—and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins.Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls! Hebrews 12: 1-3 (The Message)

‘You’ve got too much sugar in your diet,’ said the nutritionist.
My heart sank a little. Sure, I have a sweet tooth but everything in moderation and all that. Besides, I’m easily getting my ‘5-a-day’ in terms of fruit and veg and what’s wrong with muesli anyway?!
The truth is that both Mrs F and I needed to have reality defined before we could make any changes to how we eat and what we eat and when we eat it. We’re both on the same page with this and (as a Christmas present to each other) want to have a nutritional food plan that doesn’t just last for January (where we can tick it off as having done the resolution thing) but rather have something that is sustainable and enjoyable. We don’t eat badly but it turns out we’ve not been eating smartly either.

So, here we are sat down with the expert… scanning an eye over the minutiae of all that’s high in protein and the need to be keen on broad beans plus the carbos that help the turbos! Learning about pre and pro biotics and the optics of breadsticks and cucumber helping to avoid late afternoon slumber then discovering an early morning water with lemon helps to detox before I’ve even put on my socks! Poetry in motion.

Meanwhile…where was my red line??

‘How much chocolate can I have?’ I asked (with the force of one who had already decided that ‘my chocolate, my rules’ would apply). ‘Dark or Milk?’ she asked. ‘Dark’ I replied. ‘Good’ she said. This was a positive start… ‘but’ ..she continued ( I groaned inwardly) ‘you can only have two pieces a day’. I wanted to ask what amounted to a ‘piece’ but thought better of it on the basis that half a bar probably did not constitute one piece. Discretion is the better part of valour.
90 minutes later though, I was feeling very optimistic about the plan ahead. It turns out that there’s a lot of food I can eat, I just need to do it in the right order and get a better balance. It’s only Day 1 but I’m hopeful for a change that’s sustainable.

Next to the half-drunk water bottle on my desk sits a note stating, ‘plan a lent series on a spiritual MOT’. What does that mean?
In mechanical terms, it’s about making sure that the body is fit for service and has an annual health check to shine a light on what needs repaired or renewed, checking the emissions and changing the oil and filters for a better and safer way of life.
In essence it parallels the nutrition plan in looking to cut out what’s unhealthy and take on board more of what’s gonna help me as a follower of Jesus. That doesn’t mean putting on a monk’s habit and retreating to be a hermit. It’s about God having more space in my life so that He’s not squeezed to the edges.
January is the month where many of us will take an internal health check and look ourselves in the mirror and asks what needs to change.
Having social media on my phone is fine but it becomes unhealthy when I start doom scrolling which is depressing in itself. These are ‘emissions’ which are leaving a trail of smoke in their wake. There needs to be less of that but more then of what?

It’s about bookending each day by ‘starting the engine’ with God and ‘switching it off’ when the head hits the pillow and trusting God to help me through whatever trials and successes will emerge that day.
It's a nutrition plan which constantly needs reviewed – not just annually - with the help of God the Mechanic but it will only get inspected when we are willing to allow God to do that. It’s all to easy to get complacent and think all is fine even when the warning signs are there and wise friends point out unhealthy habits.
This is the challenge for me.

I want and need that accountability to check in regularly so that I can ask myself the question ‘am I truly reflecting the God I say I serve’ or is the perception of my life one of a body producing plumes of smoke from a clapped-out motor!
The words of Paul in Hebrews are a helpful reminder of what should be in terms of health and focus:
Do you see what this means—all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? It means we’d better get on with it. Strip down, start running—and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins. Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honour, right alongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he ploughed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls!

It’s all very well to have the enthusiasm of a ‘Day 1 plan’ but there needs to be determination to see it through. I’m a lifelong learner and every day is new day of hope, challenge and opportunity. I can’t do it on my own, I need God’s presence to keep me going and, even when I get it wrong and have a ‘bad diet day’ which is often, He doesn’t give up on me… or indeed any of us who ask for His help.

Now, where did I put the chocolate?!

I’ve always like black labradors. We don’t have a dog but if we did then that would be my canine friend of choice.
The conversation has come round again recently. There are a number of reasons for this; both of our children are now leaving home and I’d like the company; my 50+ year old body needs more exercise and finally, the utopian view I have of walking with a black lab gently lapping along by my side is one that makes me smile. Man’s Best Friend and all that.
This conversation however was short. Mrs F is none to keen on a black labrador as dog of choice, wonders if I’ve considered that dogs need walked in the pouring rain as well as sunshine days and, points out that the justifiable question of ‘how will Charlie the Cat like it?’ (Personally, I think Charlie will do just fine and as long as he stands his ground to an animal many times his size…he’ll cope!) She did add that 'dogs with floppy ears are her preference IF we get one'. I thought it unwise to point out that floppy ears are a great characteristic of a labrador. A battle for another day methinks.
In recent months though my thoughts around a black dog have not centred on the four-legged variety that play fetch on the beach, but on the alias that it is for depression.
It was Winston Churchill, who battled with depression all his life and referred to those times as his ‘black dog’. The phrase has been used to be the title for a great book called I had a black dog  which gives great helpful insights in coping with depression with brilliant visual illustrations.
The struggle I had recently was so overwhelming that I ended up taking some time off work. After 37 working years, it was very hard to admit to not coping with my mental health and I was concerned that it would be like opening Pandora’s Box in how I would feel and how others would judge me.
The judgement didn’t come I’m pleased to say. In the weeks that have passed, I’m trying to put steps in place that will be long term solutions. In addition to professional support, my faith is a key part of the recovery process, and I’ve realised that there are many people in the Bible who struggle with their mental health when actually they’ve been wrongly perceived and proclaimed as super saints. They’re not.
I’ve been struck lately by the very familiar Psalm 23. I heard it thousands of times of the years at funerals I conducted and it’s very easy to become over familiar with the text as to lose the meaning.
David (not immune to depression in his own life) writes at one point: Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me. Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.
Dark valleys can be lonely and frightening places, and it is right to be aware of those feelings, particularly with mental health, and name them.
I’ve realised that I may be fearful of depression and its symptoms, but I can also say that I’m not afraid because I’ve proved and continue to prove that the ‘you’ in this psalm is a Father God who draws close in the midst of depression. He doesn’t necessarily remove it but His presence in the darkness can shine light, signpost hope and bring peace.
Maybe one day I’ll have a black labrador contentedly sat by my feet or catching a stick on Alnmouth beach. I’d like that. But I know a Best Friend that is better than any dog, one who I can’t see but walks beside me whatever the weather.

In January, we had the privilege of going skiing as a family. It's a number of years since we managed this and I never take it for granted. I love being in the mountains and this year's venue was in the Aosta Valley in Italy and featured the Matterhorn. It had an 'other-worldy' feel and it was good for the soul.                  That said, it was holiday which we enjoyed on different levels; in fact finding a level was harder for some than others.

Caroline, who is a proficient skier just struggled with a lack of energy that impacted her usual confidence. On the first day, as the children with the confidence of youth flew down the hillside and outta sight, I stayed with Caroline as she wound her way slowly down 'blue run 26' until eventually we got to a little cafe. She turned to me and said 'Chris, I can't do this, I need to stop, rest and get a coffee and then try again'. It was the wisest call she made that week as it set the tone for how she needed to manage her skiing and get the maximum enjoyment. Each day (with increasing confidence it has to be said) she'd make her way down blue run 26 and park at Cafe Etoille for a latte and then go again - refreshed. I've reflected on that recently, in particular through the eyes of Lent.

The 40 days of Lent can mean different things to different people but usually the common denominator is that the journey is one of the individual giving up something rather than a collective responsibility. But what if the overriding feeling for many this Lent is just wanting to 'give up' rather than any sacrificial giving up? 

In talking to others and observing it...people are just weary.

For my part, I've been drawn to the Old Testament prophet Elijah who, when at his most vulnerable said I've had enough Lord, just let me die. God's response wasn't to give him a tough time but rather prioritised rest and recuperation for the journey ahead. Elijah had emptied the tank and was scared and lonely. 

I actually wonder if for many this Lent, the wilderness experience is less about sacrifice and more about refuelling our broken weary fragile selves. After all, it was Jesus himself who asked the question Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me - watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rythmns of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly. Matthew 11:28-30 (The Message)

Maybe this Lent we need to take something of this on board and do so because it's important self-care. And we need people with us on the journey to help with that refuelling process. So, let's acknowledge that feeling like giving up is valid but then seek the the support we need to put self-care in place recognising that Jesus - in a very clear and permission giving way - put a priority on it because it's a necessity.