Lord, it's not fair!

²⁵ “Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. ²⁶ So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ²⁷ ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’

²⁸ “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. ²⁹ But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. ³⁰ But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

³¹ “‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. ³² But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’” Luke 15:25-35

 

 “When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, ‘Call the workers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last ones hired and going on to the first.’

⁹ “The workers who were hired about five in the afternoon came and each received a denarius. ¹⁰ So when those came who were hired first, they expected to receive more. But each one of them also received a denarius. ¹¹ When they received it, they began to grumble against the landowner. ¹² ‘These who were hired last worked only one hour,’ they said, ‘and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day.’

¹³ “But he answered one of them, ‘I am not being unfair to you, friend. Didn’t you agree to work for a denarius? ¹⁴ Take your pay and go. I want to give the one who was hired last the same as I gave you. ¹⁵ Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?’

¹⁶ “So the last will be first, and the first will be last.” Matthew 20:8-16

 

 

Any preacher is bound to enjoy preaching about the prodigal son (Luke 15) – the beautiful story of how he went away from his father and ruined his life; but then, having completely messed up, how he had a change of heart and came back home, hoping against hope that his father might take pity on him and take him back as a servant – only to receive an extravagant welcome as his father, throwing dignity to the winds, came running to fling his arms around him.

The father, of course, represents God; the son represents sinful humanity in general, but especially, at that time, the wayward people of Israel.

But there is another character in the story who it’s easy to overlook. The older brother, who has been completely loyal to the father throughout his life, resents the welcome given to his wayward brother, and tells his father so in very clear terms: “Here you are throwing a big party for this prodigal son of yours [note that cruel ‘son of yours’, not ‘brother of mine’]… well, what about me? I’ve been a model son. Don’t I deserve even better?” The father gives him a little lecture – albeit a loving lecture – obviously sad that the older son is not rejoicing like him: “I have always loved you, and always will; so come on, come and join the party!”

It’s easy to write the older son off as just a rather crabbed, sour-faced, mean-spirited individual. Whether or not he did indeed soften his attitude, put a smile on his face, and join the celebrations Jesus doesn’t say, nor does it particularly matter. We might sadly shake our heads and say, “Oh well, he’s the only loser in the end! Perhaps he mended his attitude with the passing of time; let’s hope so”.

But I remember the first time somebody came to me at the end of a sermon and said, “Actually, I can’t help feeling that the older son had a point. Was he really so unreasonable to feel aggrieved at the father who seemed unappreciative  of his faithful son”.

The standard answer to that (surely also the correct answer) is that it misses the whole point of the story. Jesus is wanting to get across the fact that there is no way anyone can earn or deserve God the Father’s love. The lost son is welcomed back not because he has made amends (he hasn’t), but because, quite simply, the father loves him. The great Bible word for this is “grace”, which means God’s undeserved favour. Not even the very best and most upright of people can merit God’s forgiveness: certainly not me; not you.

There are people who think of their standing with God as like a credit/debit balance. They seem to think “Well, I just hope that when I stand before God on judgment-day my good deeds will outweigh the bad”. But no! That just isn’t possible. A price has to be paid, and none of us can pay it. So we can only thank our loving heavenly Father that he has done so himself, through the cross of Jesus his Son.

Song-writer Graham Kendrick captures it perfectly: The price is paid./ Come let us enter in/ To all that Jesus died to make our own./ For every sin/ More than enough he gave/ And bought our freedom/ From each guilty stain.

Exactly the same truth is taught in Matthew 20:1-16, the parable of the workers in the vineyard - this time not in the warm context of family life, but of what we might call in today’s parlance, “industrial relations”.

A rich farmer is keen to get his grape harvest in in the short period the weather allows. He heads off to the market-place, which in effect functions as the labour exchange, and hires some of the men waiting there. He agrees to pay them a certain price for the day’s work, starting at 6 in the morning. The experts tell us that the other hours mentioned equate to 9, midday, 3 and 5 in the evening.

There are two very surprising features to the events.

First, the farmer keeps coming back at the different intervals, right up to 5 o’clock, when the day was starting to draw to an end. That was how keen he was to get his harvest in. And it speaks of how keen God is to demonstrate his love to his people; it must have got pretty wearisome to keep coming back to try and hire an ever-diminishing group of workers.

But even more surprising is that when it came to handing out the pay, everybody got the same amount, those who started at 6 in the morning, and those who started just an hour or so before evening fell.

Here, of course, is where we see the comparison with the older son in the other story. Like him, the early starters in the vineyard felt hard done by: “Those who were hired last worked only one hour… and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day”. How can that be fair?

How indeed? But as with the prodigal son, it’s not a matter of fairness and unfairness: it’s a matter of kindness and generosity: a matter, in fact, of God’s grace.

The message for those of us who are Christians today? Never begrudge God a moment of your time, however many late-comers may seem to have come, jumped the queue and “got a better deal”. There is no deal! However hard your service may have been; however many sacrifices you may feel you have made; however much you may feel you have suffered for Jesus’ sake… it’s all to do with love, and nothing can bear comparison with that love.

Father, in the light of this fallen world it’s easy to understand the grievance of the prodigal’s older son, and of the early starters in the vineyard. But thank you that salvation isn’t a business deal. Please help me to keep firm hold of the pure unadulterated love which sent Jesus to the cross, and to rest and rejoice in it alone. Amen.

Christian, think only the best!

Once when they [Elkanah and Hannah] had finished eating and drinking in Shiloh, Hannah stood up. Now Eli the priest was sitting on his chair by the doorpost of the Lord’s house. ¹⁰ In her deep anguish Hannah prayed to the Lord, weeping bitterly. ¹¹ And she made a vow, saying, “Lord Almighty, if you will only look on your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head.”

¹² As she kept on praying to the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. ¹³ Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk ¹⁴ and said to her, “How long are you going to stay drunk? Put away your wine.”

¹⁵ “Not so, my lord,” Hannah replied, “I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the Lord. ¹⁶ Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.”

¹⁷ Eli answered, “Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of him.”

¹⁸ She said, “May your servant find favour in your eyes.” Then she went her way and ate something, and her face was no longer downcast.

In my lifetime as a minister I have had plenty of reason to feel embarrassed and even ashamed. People I have let down, for example… situations I have misjudged… So I find it hard not to feel some sympathy for Eli the priest of God at Shiloh in those far off days of the Old Testament judges.

People often made a practice of going every year to Shiloh to worship God, and sometimes they would combine this with partying, and things would get out of hand. Eli would (quite rightly) have seen it as his responsibility to try and keep order, and this would no doubt be trying, and would tend to make him cynical. But that was no excuse for what happened one day…

A man called Elkanah has come to Shiloh with his two wives Peninnah and Hannah. (This kind of marriage arrangement was permissible under Israelite law, though far from ideal.) Hannah is childless, and a deeply unhappy woman, though she receives a lot of sympathy and understanding from Elkanah, who seems to be a basically good man.

She decides to go into the house of God to pray, and this is where Eli gets things badly wrong: watching her at prayer he sees her lips moving and her tears flowing, but all under her breath, and he jumps to the conclusion that, no doubt like many other people he has had to deal with, she was drunk. He rebukes her harshly: “How long are you going to stay drunk? Put away your wine”.

Hannah respectfully puts him right, and, to be fair to Eli, he accepts the rebuke and pronounces a blessing over her. And what had seemed a long-standing impossibility becomes a reality; a baby boy, Samuel, is born. In due course he was to became one of the giants of Israel’s history.

It’s a heart-warming story, viewed from the perspective of Elkanah and Hannah. But what about Eli? We read in chapter two that his sons Hophni and Phineas were “worthless men”, as one translation puts it, who “had no regard for the Lord”. This must have been a cause of great bitterness to Eli who, as the book unfolds, comes across as well-meaning but weak. (I wonder what had happened to his wife?) You can see why, as a pastor, I am inclined to come at the story from Eli’s perspective as well as Hannah’s. Some very obvious lessons stand out…

First, don’t jump to conclusions, especially about people you don’t know. Putting it another way, don’t be quick to pass judgment.

One of the personal incidents I had in mind at the start of this blog, where in fact I ended up making an apology (in fact, what I might call a full five-star grovel), arose from my listening to somebody who had a grudge against somebody else: a malicious gossip, in short. Foolishly, I swallowed it whole, only discovering later that it was totally untrue. (What made it all the more humiliating was that the person I had to apologise to was someone I didn’t really get on with too well: having to swallow one’s pride is never a pleasant experience, though no doubt “good for one’s soul”!)

Jesus tells us pretty bluntly: “Do not judge, or you too will be judged… with the measure you use, it will be measured to you” (Matthew 7:1-2). Paul asks the Christians in Rome: “Why do you judge your brother or sister? Or why do you treat them with contempt?” Why indeed! Have we ourselves got everything right? Oh, what fools we can be!

There are of course times when we have to exercise wisdom in our dealings with people, and we must be open to the possibility that they are indeed in the wrong, and need correcting. But let it be done with true humility and a prayerful spirit, and after proper investigation.

Second: always think the best of the other person, not the worst - unless you have a very good reason otherwise.

You may be an exception to this rule, so please forgive me if it doesn’t apply to you, but I suspect that for most of us one of the results of the fall is that we have developed a tendency to look down on others.

Perhaps we are, deep down, pretty insecure within ourselves, and it makes us feel a little better about ourselves if we can look at others with contempt. Or it may be something as sinful as plain racial prejudice: their skin colour is different from ours. Perhaps, though they call themselves Christians, their denominational loyalty or some other “theological” issue means that they are rather “unsound” (unlike us, of course). Or perhaps they strike us as just not very impressive, whether physically or personality-wise. They may have a habit or other mannerism that we secretly disapprove of – the way they dress or do their hair, even something as basic as the accent they have or their upbringing. Perhaps we just take a dislike to them for no particular reason.

Oh what fools we can be! How arrogant, how self-assured! Isn’t it one of the supreme glories of our faith that we worship as Saviour, Lord and King a man who was accused (yes, accused!) of mixing with tax-collectors and sinners, the very lowest of the low, with prostitutes and outcasts.

How then dare we, even in our most secret hearts, look down any fellow human being, however lowly and contemptible in our eyes? God, have mercy upon us.

Father, please give me Spirit-led wisdom to know when someone is false or bad, and to respond appropriately and humbly; but otherwise to always think the best rather than the worst of them. Amen.

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Silent witnesses

Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were sitting there opposite the tomb. Matthew 27:61

Can you picture the two Marys, as described in that little verse of Matthew 27?

Having soaked our minds this past weekend in the great truth of Jesus risen from the dead, I have been looking back a little on the immense sadness of the gap between his death on Good Friday and his rising again on Easter Sunday – not, of course, that we should ever allow the greatness of the resurrection to fade from our minds, but rather that we should always remember the wider context in which it is set: one of sorrow, pain and deep suffering.

It’s hard to imagine what that “Easter Saturday” must have been like for the followers of Jesus.

Where were the disciples staying in Jerusalem, a city they will have known only from occasional visits “up from the country”? How did they spend their time as the weary hours dragged by? What did they talk about? What in fact was there to say after the dashing of their hopes? I can’t help but picture them just sitting around in abject despair. Jesus had built up their hopes to such a pitch, and they had trusted him so implicitly, that they simply didn’t know what to do with themselves. “Stunned”, I think, is the word to describe their state of mind.

The closing verses of Matthew 27 in fact take us back before Saturday to the end of Good Friday itself. Joseph, “a rich man from Arimathea” who had “become a disciple of Jesus” has shown his quality of character by boldly approaching Pontius Pilate and making himself responsible for the proper disposal of Jesus’ body, and placing it in a tomb originally intended for himself. He reminds us of the good person who quietly gets on with doing whatever he or she can in a time of crisis. Thank God for such people.

But focus on the two women. They’re not doing anything – what could they do? No, they’re just sitting there, watching. But just like Joseph, they can speak to us. Two things strike me…

First, we are reminded in a general sense of the role of women in the life and ministry of Jesus.

We all know that at that time and in that social setting women were very much what today we might think of as second class citizens; it was “a man’s world”. But the Gospels remind us that the two Marys were just part of a group who, albeit in the background, contributed significantly to Jesus’ work.

Think, of course, of Mary the mother of Jesus. We can only guess what kind of things he learned from her as he grew up: can you imagine him as a young teenager (not that any such social category existed in those days)? Yes, she experienced extreme pain, including serious wobbles of faith, as the mother of God’s son. But can we doubt that she also imparted to him many precious things?

Mark, in his Gospel, also refers to the role of female devotees (chapter 15:40-41), who had “followed him and cared for his needs” (what a warm, homely expression that is!). Then there are Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus (John 11); and moving on into the later New Testament, the frequently mentioned Priscilla (whose husband Aquilla several times takes second place to her), and the quietly faithful Lydia (Acts 16). The part of the New Testament I like best in this regard is Romans 16, where Paul sends greetings to Christians in Rome whom he knew and particularly valued: out of a list of some twenty-five people nearly ten seem to have female names.

Paul has the reputation of having a down on women; but no, I don’t think so. Women played a full part in the lives of the churches he founded. But Paul was not a revolutionary - though he devoted his life to proclaiming the most revolutionary message ever heard, he was keen that the church should not transgress the ordinary social customs of the time and thus create an unnecessary stumbling-block.

Second, the two Marys sitting at the tomb on the Friday evening remind us that there are times when we can genuinely do nothing – but we can just be there. The male disciples had, perhaps understandably, gone to ground as Jesus was crucified, but the women were determined to be there. We perhaps sometimes talk jokingly of “offering moral support”, as if silently adding “even though I know that’s a fat lot of good!”. But who knows what comfort and reassurance our mere presence may pass on in various situations?

Among my best memories as a pastor are times, in the aftermath of a crisis, when people would say “Thank you for everything you did”. I felt like protesting “Well, thank you for saying that – but in fact I didn’t do anything! I was just, well, around”. A humbling situation to be in.

The poet John Milton (1608-1674) lost his sight in his middle years. He wrote a short poem beginning “When I consider how my light is spent…” (sometime known as “On his blindness”) reflecting on how he will never now be able to fulfil his full potential as a poet. By the end he finds comfort in the thought that “They also serve who only stand and wait” - as if to say “Yes, perhaps my days as a prolific writer are over, but I still, by God’s grace, have something to offer”.

Well, the two Marys, on that first Good Friday, didn’t “stand and wait”, but they certainly sat and waited. As models of loyalty and devotion – as models of love – what better examples could one want? We cannot know who, seeing them there, were changed for ever by their silent witness.

Christian, never say “I have nothing to offer”!

Lord, help me to understand that however limited my powers may be as  circumstances conspire against me, I still have something to offer for every day of life you give me. Amen.

Salvation issues?

Then he [the criminal] said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom”. Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise”. Luke 23:42-43

The jailer called for lights, rushed in and fell trembling before Paul and Silas. He then brought them out and asked, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” They replied, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved – you and your household”. Acts 16:29-31

God, have mercy upon me, a sinner. Luke 18:15

A couple of times recently somebody has used an expression that I wasn’t very familiar with but couldn’t get out of my mind.

I was chatting with a Christian friend, and we found ourselves disagreeing (in a friendly manner, of course). “Oh well”, he said, smiling, “it’s not a salvation issue, is it?”

Not a salvation issue.

Now, what does that mean? Reflecting later, I think what he was saying was “Well, I’m sorry we disagree, but of course it’s not a matter that need separate us spiritually. Our disagreement doesn’t mean that one of us is a Christian and the other not, that one of us is saved and the other not”. Which, of course, is fine. I was happy to agree. Then the same expression cropped up in a sermon.

It set off a train of thought. How many “salvation issues” are there?” What constitutes a salvation issue? What exactly do we need to believe in order to be saved?

For example, is belief in the personhood of the Holy Spirit a salvation issue? Belief in the doctrine of the trinity? Or belief in the literal truth of the creation account – a literal six days - in Genesis 1-2? What about the Christian who feels in sympathy with the lobby pressing for “assisted suicide”? or pressing for some acceptance of same-sex relations? Salvation issues?

What about those who believe that “speaking in tongues” is for every believer? Or those who believe that speaking in tongues is most certainly not for every believer because it stopped in New Testament days? What about hell as a “lake of fire” – how literal is that? What about those who believe that women should always have their heads covered in worship? What about…?

The possible questions multiply! And it’s no good saying “We must just go with the simple meaning of scripture” – for the fact is that the meaning of scripture isn’t always simple, whether we like it or not; and, anyway, the Bible itself never spells out explicitly what might or might not be a salvation issue.

Our dependence on the teaching of scripture is, of course, vital (where else can we go?), so I have put at the top two New Testament quotes which would seem to reduce “salvation issues” to a bare minimum. In Luke 23 the thief dying on the cross next to Jesus undergoes a change of heart about his sinful life and asks him to “remember me when you come in your kingdom”. Jesus’ reply amounts to a wonderful assurance that that man was saved: “Truly, I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise” – though very likely his understanding amounted to next to nothing.

And in Acts 16, the  jailer looking after Paul and Barnabas asks the very direct question “What must I do to be saved?” (though what he himself meant by “saved”, who knows?). Whatever, he receives the gloriously simple reply “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved” (though the next bit, “you and your household”, perhaps isn’t quite so simple!).

The man who used to cut my hair was, by background and upbringing, a Muslim. But he was impressed by Christianity and happy to read the Bible. I left the area before I knew if he had (as we say) “made a commitment to Christ”, but whether he did or not I find it impossible to rule out the possibility of meeting him one day in heaven.

Paul, especially in Romans 3, spells out the doctrine of “justification by faith” – more exactly, that we are saved from our sins by God’s grace alone by simply putting our faith in what Jesus did by his crucifixion and resurrection. That is the basic, foundation doctrine in which we rest.

But we need to be careful. Just referring to it as a “doctrine” makes it sound very correct and clinical: as if it’s a threat delivered with a frowning face and a wagging finger: “If you don’t put your faith in Jesus you will not be saved”. But no! It’s an offer, indeed a promise, delivered with a smile and a welcome: “You want to be saved? That’s great! Just put your trust in Jesus”.

Putting it another way, the gospel message is not like an exam that the candidate has to pass; no, it’s an invitation that he or she is invited to accept and delight in.

So, seen from this perspective, with the dying thief and the Philippian jailer in our minds, it seems that there are no “salvation issues” at all: God accepts anyone and everyone who knows their sinfulness and need and cries out for mercy, however scant their understanding. The word Gospel does mean “good news”, after all! Putting it yet another way… as Christians we believe in justification by faith: we don’t believe in justification by believing in justification by faith. There’s a big difference.

God alone knows the heart of every person. Perhaps on Resurrection morning we’re in for a few surprises…

Father, thank you for making the question of salvation so wonderfully simple. Help me day by day to enjoy the privilege of being a sinner saved by your grace; help me too to make that good news known to others. Amen.

All at sea?

For two whole years Paul stayed there [in Rome] in his own rented house and welcomed all who came to see him.  He proclaimed the kingdom of God and taught about the Lord Jesus Christ—with all boldness and without hindrance. Acts 28:30-31

No-one could claim that the apostle Paul lived a quiet and uneventful life. The book of Acts, almost certainly written by his companion Luke, makes that very clear - and his own account even more so (just skim your way, for example, through 2 Corinthians 11:22-33: all about imprisonments, floggings, exposure to death, beatings with whips and rods, stonings, shipwrecks…). No nine-to-five life for Paul!

This makes the end of Acts rather frustrating. The book isn’t all about Paul, of course, but much of it is, and if we have been drawn into Luke’s account of his ministry, the final verses can come across as a big, flat anti-climax: apparently, having at last come to Rome to stand before the emperor, he spent “two whole years… in his own rented house” making the good news of Jesus known to anybody who chose to come, especially his fellow-Jews.

And that’s it! We’re left hanging. We may even feel like shouting, “Well, that’s good to know, Luke. But come on, don’t leave it like that! Tell us how Paul’s story ended! Did he get to stand before Caesar in Rome? Did he later fulfil his ambition to get as far as Spain (Romans 15:24, 28)? How did he die? Don’t leave us dangling! - it’s like reading a detective novel with the last five pages missing”.

Well of course it’s not for us to question God’s word. If a particular narrative isn’t brought to what we think would be a satisfying conclusion, so be it, and we must look for positive lessons.

A few minutes’ thought reminds us that in fact many Bible stories are left, as we might think, unfinished. What, for example, became of the “rich young ruler” (Mark 10:17-23) who, unwilling to meet Jesus’ call to “sell everything you have and give to the poor… went away sad…”. Did he, on later reflection, have a change of heart and come to see Jesus again? Or what about “the woman taken in adultery”? (John 8:2-11), defended by Jesus and told by him to “go and leave your life of sin”? Did she in fact do that? - after all, we all know people who trust in Jesus but later fall away. Or the “Gadarene demoniac”, poor tormented man (Mark 5:1-20)? Or the “woman at the well” (John 4) and the mini-revival in the “Samaritan town” that started with her?

And likewise none of us know our own future, so - take nothing for granted!

Going back to Paul… In Acts 26,he is told that because of his Roman citizenship he has the right to appeal to Caesar in Rome against the unjust treatment of his fellow-Jews. If a prophet had said to him then, “Paul, you have what you wanted, so get ready to head for Rome. You will be treated with respect and consideration at first, but things will soon go badly wrong. You will have to change ships at Mysia in Lydia (27:3-8), but by that time the bad weather will be on its way and the ship’s owners will foolishly insist on persevering in spite of grave danger. Every person on board – all 276 of you – will be in dire peril of going down in a storm of hurricane force, and by the time you get to Crete you and the ship’s company will have to dump everything into the sea in the hope that you might run aground somewhere”. (Malta at this point is still some 200 miles away across open sea…)

If Paul had been told that, I don’t think he would have been too pleased! If the prophet had gone on to say that he and everyone else would end up soaked, chilled to the bone, hungry and exhausted on the beach in Malta, again, I don’t think he would have been too pleased (and certainly not when a poisonous snake grabbed hold of his hand! – Acts 28:3). But that’s how it was and so Paul, being Paul, confronts it with wonderful faith and ends up with another stock of hair-raising memories to tuck away…

And what happened after that ?

Well, summing up chapter 28 very quickly… He emerged from his ordeal by shipwreck unscathed… He was given a generous welcome by the islanders… He was used by God in a wonderful sequence of healing miracles (vv 7-10)…. He was given great hospitality and companionship by Christian people who met him on the road to Rome (and who, in all probability, he had never met before, vv 11-16) …. Once in Rome he was allowed to rent a house for his own use – and which he turned into a preaching centre (vv 30-31).

And this where Luke closes his book.

Who would have guessed this dramatic sequence of events? Not Paul himself, I’m sure. But while we today are no apostle Pauls I think there are things we can draw from his experience which we can definitely apply to ourselves. I suggest three…

First, God doesn’t promise his people an easy ride. But he does promise us a happy ending, even if we must die to enter into it.

Second, as long as we have another day on this earth, God has work for us to do (like Paul gathering sticks to get a fire going, not to mention his impromptu healing ministry). It may be simply showing care to a neighbour, or devoting extra time to prayer, or making a phone call or email to somebody in trouble – but it is precious to God.

Third, don’t ask to know in advance what the future holds: be content to let it unfold with expectant faith and anticipation, and take each day as it comes (corny, that, but true). God is there, and he is in control, and his purposes will become plain.

Father, help me to grasp the truth that every day of my earthly life, however tedious, or demanding, or painful, you have something for me to do – and help me to do it cheerfully and trustingly. Amen.

His purposes will ripen fast,/ Unfolding every hour;/ The bud may have a bitter taste,/ But sweet will be the flower.    William Cowper (1731-1800)

Listen up, my soul!

Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Saviour and my God. Psalm 42:5,11; 43:5.

Have you ever been given “a bit of a talking to” by a trusted friend? They’ve sat you down and told you one or two things that perhaps you would have preferred not to hear. At the time you really didn’t like it very much, but with the benefit of hindsight you realise that in fact they were doing you a favour, indeed one that required a lot of courage, and one, perhaps, that significantly changed your life. You end up thanking God for them - and that they loved you enough to care.

Great. But what if there is no such person in your life at the time? What then? Are you left to carry on with life as it is – perhaps with a guilty conscience you prefer to ignore, or with a heavy spirit you can’t shake off. What are you to do?

Whoever wrote Psalms 42 and 43 provides an interesting suggestion by his example: if there is nobody else to give you that talking to, well, you’d better do it yourself, hadn’t you?

These psalms, taken together, consist of a mere sixteen verses, yet three times the same question is repeated: “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?” And then follows the same reply: “Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Saviour and my God” (42:5 and 11, 43:5). He talks to… himself. Does the thought of talking to your own “soul”, your very inmost being, seem strange to you? Me too. But learning new habits can be a good thing!

It sounds easy enough. But of course it may be anything but. The psalmist seems to be struggling with what today we would probably call “depression”. He feels isolated in his suffering, the butt of other people’s mockery (42:3). He can’t help remembering what we might label “the good old days”, which are now just a distant memory (42:4). He feels forgotten by God himself (42:9-10), even perhaps a little bitter (43:1-2).

And so it may be with us. Quite apart from serious clinical depression, which may require help including medication and professional counselling, our moods and circumstances can conspire against us to bring us low. Christians of an earlier generation used to speak of it as “melancholy”, and there were those who lived with it for a lifetime. It wasn’t regarded as necessarily a symptom of sin – psalms like these reassure us that even the most Christlike of people can suffer in this way. We too can take encouragement from them.

Talking to ourselves like this may take different forms – a scold when we know we are somehow in the wrong, a renewed determination to draw strength from God if we have heard bad news.

But whatever our situation may be, one thing is certain: we must be serious about it. If, frankly, we have allowed ourselves to slip into laziness or lethargy, the old cliches, corny and shallow though they can seem, are worth taking seriously - “pull yourself together!”, “get a grip!”, “snap out of it!”. A bit of spiritual finger-wagging may be in order.

But if that kind of self-motivation is simply beyond us at the moment, there is no blame in that. God sees and understands total honesty – for example, when we read “my soul thirsts for God, for the living God”, it may be that we simply can’t echo those words. “No, that’s my whole problem!” we cry. “My thirst for God has evaporated! If anything I feel angry with him”. If that’s honestly how we’re feeling we can be sure that God’s shoulders are big enough to take that kind of protest.

What in particular might we feel it good to tell our souls? I suggest these possibilities…

First, a word of rebuke. If we have indeed fallen into sin, that word might be, “Look, soul, you know that we’ve been out of step with God for a time now. Well, it’s time to be truly sorry and start again”. We don’t need to wallow and agonise (probably not, anyway), but we do need to mean business. Remember – God loves to forgive.

Second, a word of reminder. “Look, soul, just think of all the times God has answered our prayers and brought us through difficult circumstances. Is there any reason why he cannot do the same again? Count your blessings…”

Third, a word of determination. “Look, soul, God never promised that everything would be easy in following Jesus! Have we forgotten that?  We were told to take up our cross to follow him – and that wasn’t just a graphic figure of speech. Well, let’s do it then; it’s more than worth it in the end”.

Fourth, a word of faith. “Soul, start believing again! Start looking for clear answers to prayer – all right, not necessarily big, dramatic answers, and not necessarily intense and lengthy prayers, but clear indications that God is at work, however heavy the circumstances might be”.

Fifth, a word of commitment. “Remember, soul, that God has work for us to do. He has called us to serve him in perhaps small but nonetheless significant ways – at home, at work, around the neighbourhood, in a multitude of ways. Well, let’s roll up our sleeves and get on with it, then!”

Father, I’m finding life particularly difficult at the moment, and my walk with you has ground to a halt. Please restore me by your Holy Spirit. Where the fault lies with my own sin, please forgive me. Where it lies with circumstances beyond  my control, please give me the gift of perseverance, and refresh me and guide me by your Spirit. Amen.

O for a closer walk with God,/ A calm and heavenly frame,/ A light to shine upon the road/ That leads me to the Lamb.

Where is the blessedness I knew/ When first I saw the Lord?/ Where is the soul-refreshing view/ Of Jesus and his word?

What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!/ How sweet their memory still!/ But they have left an aching void/ The world can never fill.

The dearest idol I have known,/ Whate’er that idol be,/Help me to tear it from thy throne,/And worship only thee. Amen.

William Cooper, 1731-1800

Miracles in Malta (3)

28 Once safely on shore, we found out that the island was called Malta. ² The islanders showed us unusual kindness. They built a fire and welcomed us all because it was raining and cold. ³ Paul gathered a pile of brushwood and, as he put it on the fire, a viper, driven out by the heat, fastened itself on his hand. ⁴ When the islanders saw the snake hanging from his hand, they said to each other, “This man must be a murderer; for though he escaped from the sea, the goddess Justice has not allowed him to live.” ⁵ But Paul shook the snake off into the fire and suffered no ill effects. ⁶ The people expected him to swell up or suddenly fall dead; but after waiting a long time and seeing nothing unusual happen to him, they changed their minds and said he was a god.

⁷ There was an estate nearby that belonged to Publius, the chief official of the island. He welcomed us to his home and showed us generous hospitality for three days. ⁸ His father was sick in bed, suffering from fever and dysentery. Paul went in to see him and, after prayer, placed his hands on him and healed him. ⁹ When this had happened, the rest of the sick on the island came and were cured. ¹⁰ They honoured us in many ways; and when we were ready to sail, they furnished us with the supplies we needed. Acts 28:1-10

Jesus said, For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 5:20

… what are human beings, that you think of them, mere mortals, that you care for them? Psalm 8:4

In the last two blogs I have been visiting (so to speak) the island of Malta. 276 men, including Paul, have been shipwrecked; all of them have survived, and the local people have done all they could to make them as comfortable as possible.

The story suggests different answers to the question posed in Psalm 8: what are human beings? So far I have touched on two answers. First, we are God-like creatures, made in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:26) who even though fallen into sin are still capable of loving and sacrificial deeds (“the islanders showed us unusual kindness”, Acts 28:2). We, however imperfectly, may still reflect the loving character of God himself.

Second, we are prone to superstition. The islanders assume, first, that when Paul is attacked by a poisonous snake he must be a murderer unable to escape the god of Justice, and then, when he fails to drop dead, that he must be a god. I suggested that, for all the advances in human science and knowledge over the last two thousand years, modern humanity is not much different. Every time someone reads their horoscope they display the human race’s proneness to superstition.

But there is a third - and the most important - answer to the question, What are we? It is wonderfully simple: We are people loved by God. In Acts 28 an episode that starts in disaster, fear and suffering ends in healing and hope. In verses 7-11 we read of Paul being used by God to heal the father of Publius, “the chief official of the island”, and then of carrying out a ministry of healing throughout the whole island. Chaos and disorder give way to wholeness.

Putting this in its full biblical context, this means that though Adam and Eve fell into sin, and though they were excluded from the garden of Eden, God’s intended home for them, he didn’t turn his back on them. He had made them because he loved them – and he carried on loving them. Adam and Eve represent the entire human race, including you and me, and he set in motion a plan whereby our race can be restored to harmony with him.

It involved choosing one particular people, the people of Israel, to be “a light to enlighten the nations” (Isaiah 42:6). He didn’t choose them because they were particularly good – they weren’t  - but in order that they might carry to the whole world the good news of God’s rescue plan. This plan involved God allowing the suffering that resulted from sin and disobedience to fall on him in the person of his Son, Jesus of Nazareth. As the New Testament sums it up, “he himself bore our sins in his body on the cross” (1 Peter 2:24).

But what has this got to do with the island of Malta? Certainly, it could equally apply to other places in the ancient world – places like Rome and Corinth, like Antioch and Colossae – any place where the good news of the gospel has been made known and taken root, and any such place down through history.

The point is that as disease is just one symptom of sin, one result of what we call “the fall”, so the healing of the sick represents a reversal of what happened in Eden. As Paul exercised his gift of healing, it spoke of God’s continuing love for fallen people. As we read Acts 28:7-10 we are reminded of the events which accompanied the start of the ministry of Jeus (for example Mark 1:29-34). Paul, like Simon Peter and others before him, were doing in miniature what Jesus himself did by his earthly ministry, his crucifixion and his resurrection; they were providing what must have been a breath-taking foretaste of what is to come when Jesus returns to this earth. As John the visionary spells it out: “God will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Revelation 21:4).

It’s interesting that there is no mention in Acts 28 (written of course by Luke) of a preaching/teaching ministry; all the emphasis falls on physical healing. Perhaps this reflects Luke’s special interest as a doctor! – though, if so, it certainly doesn’t apply to his book as a whole. I’m sure we can take for granted that plenty of teaching about Jesus took place, even if only in an informal setting.

But it serves to remind us that in our witness as modern Christians word and deed must go hand in hand, just as it did in the earthly lifetime of Jesus himself. Supremely, yes, we have a message to proclaim - that’s the word part. But let’s never forget that that message must be backed up by deeds of love, kindness and generosity: as James the brother of Jesus put it, “faith without works is dead”. Is this a message some of us need to hear?

I wonder if a church was founded on Malta? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the New Testament contained a letter “to all in Malta who are loved by God and called to be his holy people”. Well, it doesn’t, and that’s that.

But I’m sure that the events of the shipwreck, along with the ministry of healing and teaching, were remembered for a very long time; in fact, were never forgotten, even to this day. Let this be an encouragement to us to faithfully sow the seed of the gospel. Who knows how many thousands of lives, even millions, might be changed as a result?

Father, thank you for the wonderful way in which what seemed like catastrophic events in Malta were turned to lasting good and the victory of the gospel. Help me to be a true seed-sower in whatever circumstances I may find myself - and to leave the fruit to you. Amen.