A beautiful fragrance

For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing.  2 Corinthians 2:15

We Christians are often encouraged to “tell people about Jesus”. And quite right too. It’s called “personal evangelism”, and it is both our duty and our privilege.

As I look back over my time as a minister I know I have myself preached various sermons about this. Sometimes, I suspect, I have used the technique of what I now think of as “guilting” people with finger-wagging questions like “When was the last time you told somebody about Jesus?” or artificial challenges like “Aim to speak this week to three people about Jesus!”

Why do I call that “guilting” people? – because you could almost see them squirm.

Today, older and, I hope, a little wiser, I feel distinctly uncomfortable with this approach. Why? Because “telling people about Jesus”, vital though it is, is no simple matter! - especially in our modern, secular, materialistic world.

Actually, my discomfort with this method goes right back to my early, teenage days as a new convert (so by the time I became a preacher I really should have known better!).

One evening a little group of us from the church decided to go out into the local estate and tell people about Jesus. And to this day I can vividly remember our leader going up to a lad about our own age - though much more street-wise than us - and announcing, without so much as a by-your-leave, “I’ve come to tell you about the Lord Jesus Christ”.

From the look on the boy’s face we might have been little green men from Mars. If I were to put that look into words I would suggest that what he was thinking was “Who on earth are these nutters? And what’s this strange language they’re speaking?” (You won’t be surprised to know that the conversation ended pretty sharpish.)

It was a clear case of ten out of ten for zeal and nought out of ten for sensitivity and common sense. Rather than recommending Christ to that boy I fear we might have inoculated him for life against a virus called “religion”.

The principle, of course, is simple: if we want to speak to people about Jesus we need to earn the right. The apostle Peter puts it perfectly: “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that is in you. But do it with gentleness and respect…” (1 Peter 3:15). Which implies (a) that generally we leave the other person to take the initiative (“give an answer…”) and (b) that we observe normal courtesies and good manners (“do it with gentleness and respect”).

Where does 2 Corinthians 2:15, the verse at the top, come into this? What’s it got to do with telling people about Jesus?

Just this… Paul tells us that if we are Christians we can be compared (amazing though this may seem!) with an aroma, a fragrance of Christ. And this, surely, is the first step in “personal evangelism”, the first step in earning the right to “tell people about Jesus”.

Think of it like this…

We’ve probably all heard Christians who describe their conversion in some such terms as these: “There was this woman at work that I just sensed was somehow different. She didn’t preach at me or anything like that, but I knew she had something I didn’t have – and in time I realised that it was something I wanted too…”

So a relationship gradually developed, and in time an opportunity - a natural, unforced opportunity - arose for that woman to explain what it was that made her different: she believed in Jesus, she was a church-goer, a believer in prayer, a reader of the Bible. And the person telling the story slowly began to see what it was that made that woman somehow attractive, peaceful, calm, reassuring. And the rest was history…

I think it’s something like that that Paul means when he talks about “spreading the aroma of the knowledge of Christ”. At first it has nothing to do with words: they can come later. No: it’s to do with character, personality, integrity, winsomeness (to dig up a beautiful old word). It’s all there in Galatians 5:22-23, the “fruit of the Spirit”. In a nutshell, it’s to do with… sheer Christlikeness.

Smell is a powerful sense, isn’t it? I walk into our local city-centre Boots and know immediately that I’m in the “Fragrances” department – it’s like being hit in the face, albeit not unpleasantly. Or there is the delicate scent of a particular flower, or the pungency of frying bacon, or freshly ground coffee (though why is its taste never as delicious as the aroma?).

Smell seems a very vague, thin, indistinct, indefinite thing, doesn’t it? You can’t grab hold of it with your hand. But it is powerful! It reaches parts of us that words and sights cannot penetrate to.

And so it is with the fragrance of Jesus.

Which means that the really important challenge is not “How many people have I talked to about Jesus this week?”, but “Am I, through the power of the Holy Spirit, becoming more like him, and so giving off that beautiful fragrance, the fragrance that, in time, cannot be ignored?”

May the fragrance of Jesus fill my life,/ Lovely fragrance of Jesus./ Fill my thoughts, my words, my deeds,/ As all I give in adoration. Amen.

Graham Kendrick (altered)

Father, I find it hard to believe that I could be like a beautiful fragrance to you and to other people. But thank you that, by your grace, it is so. Please help me to know when the moment comes for words, so that I can experience the joy of telling people about Jesus. Amen.

Keep it simple!

Naaman’s servants went to him and said “My father, if the prophet had told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more, then, when he tells you ‘Wash, and be cleansed’?” 2 Kings 5:13

Keep it simple!

Have you ever been offered that advice? I’m afraid that often when we are faced with some kind of problem we tie ourselves in all sorts of knots and get anxious and troubled. We make mountains out of mole-hills. If only we would calm down a little and quietly think and pray it through we might find it wasn’t actually as difficult as we feared. Keep it simple!

This was the advice that Naaman, the commander of the army of Aram (that’s Syria), needed. He had the dreaded disease “leprosy” - though given that he seems to have been moving about freely, and that he lived with his wife and household, probably this is best understood as some kind of non-infectious, non-contagious skin-disease.

Anyway, his hopes of a cure had been raised when a young girl abducted from Israel to be his wife’s servant had suggested that he should visit the prophet Elisha.

Fair enough: he was happy to follow the girl’s advice. But he wasn’t happy for long. For one thing, Elisha sent a mere “messenger” to talk to him instead of coming himself (what a cheek!); and, second, the message seemed an insult to his status and dignity - “go and wash yourself seven times in the Jordan and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed” (verse 11).

Elisha doesn’t so much as show his face! Naaman expected to have to “do some great thing” (verse 13), perhaps so that he didn’t have to humble himself too much. And then, so to speak, a loud roll of drums and a dramatic healing ceremony.

But no. Just a simple command to carry out a simple repeated action.

And so he stomps off in a huff: Doesn’t he know who I am? Dip myself in the piddling little Jordan? Haven’t we got rivers enough here in Syria? And why this pantomime of “seven times”? Pah!

It was only when his servants came and had – ahem – a tactful little word with him that he realised how foolish he was, and changed his mind. And what do we read? “So he went and dipped himself in the Jordan seven times, as the man of God had told him, and his flesh was restored and became clean like that of a little child” (verse 14).

Yes, you could say that he did indeed have to eat a large helping of humble pie. But I don’t think he ever regretted it, do you? Likewise with us: showing humility, even just saying sorry, is often hard, but oh what relief it brings! what a healing effect it has!

I think that many Christians – especially the more thoughtful ones – often have to walk something of a tight-rope. The fact is that we do have to grapple with difficult and puzzling issues. These may be of an intellectual type – the mystery of the Trinity, or of election and predestination, or of suffering; or of a more everyday type – why God often seems not to answer prayer, or how to be sure we’ve got it right when we’re called on to make difficult decisions. I think God expects us to bring our minds to bear on such issues; why else give us minds at all?

And yes, there are times when God requires of us some hard or demanding sacrifice.

But there are times too when we have to accept that we are never going to find a clear answer to our questions. We have to have the humility to say “All right, Lord, this is completely beyond me…” Ultimately it comes down to faith, to simple childlike trust. This isn’t being lazy; no, it’s being realistic. But it’s amazing how often that step of faith leads to peace and a whole new perspective on things.

Are you, perhaps, getting stewed up over some problem at the moment? Well, you certainly have my sympathy – I’ve been there too. But perhaps you need to take a leaf out of Naaman’s book. He eventually did the right thing, the simple thing. And God honoured his humility, his obedience and his faith.

Is it time to take a deep breath, to stop fretting, to start trusting, and to leave it all in the hands of your heavenly Father?

Dear Father, forgive me that I so often complicate things unnecessarily. Grant me, please, the gift of childlike faith, and so bring me through my doubts and fears into the light of peace and hope. Amen.

On thinking ugly, nasty thoughts

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 1 Corinthians 13:6

Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice. Proverbs 24:17

Someone in the public eye - someone whose face is recognised throughout the world, though they’re not very popular with most people - crashes to earth in a scandal of crime, stupidity and sheer wickedness. They are shamed and humiliated, likely to end up behind bars. A case, truly, of “How are the mighty fallen”.

And what do we do, many of us? We gloat; we snigger; we take it all as a source of fun… Well, he had it coming to him… she’s only got what she deserves… about time too…

We always need something to brighten our days, and this, squalid though it is, fits the bill perfectly: a delicious talking-point.

To borrow Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 13, we “delight in evil”. And that, as we know perfectly well if only we stop to think about it for a moment, is wrong; it goes against the law of Christlike love, and we should be ashamed of ourselves.

When this happened recently I was, I must confess, no better than anyone else. But the more I thought about the individual involved, the more guilty I felt.

Not that his wrongdoing was some small thing. No, it certainly wasn’t. But such was the venom poured out on him that I actually began to feel a little sorry for him. I found myself wondering if there was anybody in his circle (what was left of it) who might be able to tell him that God loved him, even if nobody else did – who might tell him that while it was right that he should be brought to justice, there is a God in heaven who delights to forgive those who are truly sorry for their sins.

In Luke 15 Jesus told the stories of the lost sheep, the lost coin and the lost son. And at the end of each of the first two he added the glorious, glowing statement: “… there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who do not need to repent”. Which can only mean, surely, that rather than wallowing in that person’s fall, we should be praying for his restoration?

You might say to me: “You should speak for yourself! I would never react in the way you have described!” Well, of course I accept that rebuke and can only say that you are a better person than I am. But I strongly suspect that, albeit on a much smaller, more petty scale, most of us do find it hard to resist that nasty pang of ugly pleasure (I think the Germans call it schadenfreude, “harm-joy”): an uppity colleague at work gets reprimanded; a noisy neighbour suffers some misfortune; an over-ambitious friend experiences a disappointment. And while our inner reaction may not be out-and-out malicious, there is, all the same, a little stab of satisfaction: Yes! as we punch the air.

Two questions are worth asking.

First, why are we so prone to give way to this sin?

The most obvious answer is: because we are all sinners, no different from that person whose fall gives us pleasure. True, if your trust is in Christ, you are a saved sinner; but you are a sinner nonetheless. The well-known saying “There but for the grace of God go I” doesn’t appear in the Bible, but it certainly might have done, for it conveys a vital truth.

Probing a little deeper, it may be that our nasty reaction springs from the poison of envy or jealousy. That person may have been what the world calls a “high-flyer”, and arrogant with it. And deep down, though we probably wouldn’t admit it, we feel inferior.

But if we yield to such a feeling, we damage only ourselves for (to quote Billy Graham) “Envy takes the joy, happiness and contentment out of living” (and it doesn’t even hurt the other person!). How stupid is that!

Let’s pray for a satisfaction with our God-given place in life – to copy Paul, who wrote “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation” (Philippians 4:12).

True, we may have only few and slight gifts, but if they are baptised in the Holy Spirit they will be beautiful in the eyes of God, and more useful to him than we can ever know!

The second question: What should I do when I am tempted to commit this sin?

If someone falls, our first prayer must obviously be for any victims who have suffered because of them. But after that, however hard it may seem, shouldn’t we pray for them too? And a good place to start is with the simple request: “Lord, help me to see that person with your eyes”.

If that prayer is answered – and why shouldn’t it be? – everything is wonderfully changed.

Father, I confess that deep in my heart there are ugly traces of jealousy, spite and sheer nastiness. Help me to see these things as you see them, to uproot them with the help of the Spirit, and so to see even the worst of sinners with your eyes of love. Amen.

Sweet and sour

The Fish Gate was rebuilt by the sons of Hassenaah. They laid its beams and put its doors and bolts and bars in place. Meremoth son of Uriah, the son of Hakkoz, repaired the next section. Next to him Meshullam son of Berekiah, the son of Meshezabel, made repairs, and next to him Zadok son of Baana also made repairs. The next section was repaired by the men of Tekoa, but their nobles would not put their shoulders to the work under their supervisors...

Shallum son of Hallohesh, ruler of a half-district of Jerusalem, repaired the next section with the help of his daughters. Nehemiah 3:3-12

Last time we looked at Nehemiah 3, a story of a difficult task tackled and brought to completion in the service of God: the rebuilding of the ruined walls of Jerusalem. I asked what we might be able to apply to our lives from what, on the face of it, seems little more than a catalogue of names. And the obvious point is that we too are called upon to build. For us, what we build is the church – not its bricks and mortar necessarily, but its spiritual life.

The key points are clear: the people in Nehemiah 3 worked (a) under strong, wise supervision, (b) in good co-operation with one another and – not forgetting the obvious - (c) very hard. And this shows us how we should approach our service for God in the church.

So let Nehemiah 3 inspire us to be good church members! – like those other largely unknown people we meet in Romans 16.

Last time there wasn’t space to add a couple of other points which stand out from the chapter if we take the trouble to read it carefully. One of them is rather sad, the other rather delightful – I think of them as sweet and sour.

The sour one comes in verse 5: “The next section was repaired by the men of Tekoa, but their nobles would not put their shoulders to the work under their supervisors”.

Oh! So it wasn’t all sweetness and light. There was a tiny minority who declined to roll up their sleeves and play their part. The “nobles of Tekoa” seem to have been, in fact, not particularly noble at all.

What was their problem? We could speculate all day long, but there wouldn’t be a lot of point; the most likely reason is surely the obvious one: they regarded such work as beneath their dignity: “Come on now, Nehemiah, surely you can’t expect people like us to spend our time hefting great lumps of stone about! Whatever next?”

Never mind that the work was both vital and urgent. Never mind the onus on leaders to set an example to the “ordinary” people. Never mind that this work was the work of God himself. No: you wouldn’t find the nobles of Tekoa getting their delicate hands dirty.

God’s people, both then and now, aren’t quite perfect – to put it mildly. There will always be those who “don’t show willing”, as we say. Sad! – but let’s notice that they are the main losers, for, as we said last time, the real joy and satisfaction belong to those who do their part cheerfully and whole-heartedly.

(It's good to notice, by the way, that the ordinary people of Tekoa didn’t allow their nobles’ attitude to infect them: we meet them again in verse 27, and what are they doing? Helping out on another stretch of the wall, that’s what. I rather like the “men of Tekoa”, don’t you?)

“God loves a cheerful giver” said Paul (2 Corinthians 9:7). Are we cheerful givers when it comes to the service of God? “Serve the Lord with gladness” the psalms tell us; to which I always add under my breath “or don’t bother to serve him at all”.

But now the sweet detail that’s also easy to miss.

In verse 12 we read: “Shallum son of Hallohesh, ruler of a half-district of Jerusalem, repaired the next section with the help of his daughters”.

That comes as a bit of a surprise doesn’t it? There’s nothing in Old Testament law to forbid women from carrying out manual labour. But I suspect it was fairly unusual, certainly the sort of heavy work that must have been called for. So Nehemiah 3:12 brought a smile to my face the first time I noticed it.

Perhaps my imagination is running a bit wild, but I can’t help picturing Shallum as an ageing, grey-haired man surrounded by a gaggle of feisty young women telling him in no uncertain terms that there’s absolutely no reason why they can’t do their bit - so will he please just go and sit down. (Note, too, that Shallum, like the nobles of Tekoa, was a man of some status; but that didn’t stop him playing his part.)

One day God will bring to completion the “building” of his church, the “bride of the Lamb” – and, boy, will she be beautiful! Just re-read Revelation 21 and allow it to dazzle your imagination.

And the question is not just “Will I be part of that church?” but “Will I play my part – like the men of Tekoa, and like Shallum and his daughters – in the building of it?”

There’s work to be done. Let’s get on and do it!

Father, you call us to serve you in many different ways. Please help me to do so cheerfully, not counting the cost but mindful only of the privilege. Amen.

A job well done

The Fish Gate was rebuilt by the sons of Hassenaah. They laid its beams and put its doors and bolts and bars in place. Meremoth son of Uriah, the son of Hakkoz, repaired the next section. Next to him Meshullam son of Berekiah, the son of Meshezabel, made repairs, and next to him Zadok son of Baana also made repairs. The next section was repaired by the men of Tekoa, but their nobles would not put their shoulders to the work under their supervisors...

Shallum son of Hallohesh, ruler of a half-district of Jerusalem, repaired the next section with the help of his daughters. Nehemiah 3:3-12

I don’t think anyone would claim that Nehemiah 3 is the most exciting chapter of the Bible. It runs to thirty-two verses, and a lot of it consists of names. But there is much that we can glean from it, especially when we are thinking about church life.

But first, a little background…

In the year 587 BC the biggest catastrophe ever to befall the people of Israel/Judah took place. The Babylonians, the super-power of the time, marched into Jerusalem, destroyed Solomon’s temple, razed the city to the ground and took a large number of the people into captivity in Babylon. (Read Psalm 137 if you want to get a feel for what this meant to the people.)

But, as is the way with mighty empires (watch out America, Russia, China!), it wasn’t long before Babylon also fell. In 539 the Persians became the dominant power under their king, Cyrus, and the following year he issued a history-changing decree: that Persia’s subject peoples should be allowed – indeed, encouraged – to return to their ancestral home-lands and rebuild their sacred cities, including such buildings as their temples. (Go to Ezra 1 to read about this.)

This included Israel! And while Cyrus, a pagan king, had reasons of his own for this policy, to the Israelites it was sheer, God-given miracle, wonderful beyond words.

In 538 the first returners made their way back “home”, and in 516, after a rather stop-start process (see the prophets Haggai and Zechariah), the temple was rebuilt.

But there was opposition from people round about, and life was a struggle. It was some fifty years (458) before God sent them a strong spiritual leader, the scribe Ezra, whose job it was to re-establish the religious life of the nation.

But - and this where we come to Nehemiah 3 - the walls of Jerusalem, broken down by the Babylonians, were still in a state of ruin. And, of course, no city in the ancient world could hope to last long without proper defenses.

Step forward Nehemiah!

Nehemiah was “cup-bearer” – as we might say, wine-steward - to King Artaxerxes, living in the Persian city of Susa. He gained permission from the king to head back to Jerusalem to supervise the rebuilding of the walls (445). He became Governor of Jerusalem.

So Nehemiah 3 (with all its names), and the following chapters, describe how this was achieved. How long did it take? Amazingly, a mere fifty-two days (Nehemiah 6:15). And how was such a stupendous task accomplished? Well, that’s what Chapter 3 tells us.

Three great themes stand out as we read these verses, and they are themes which also apply to the church today.

First, organization.

The wall was divided into some forty sections, and each was allocated to one particular group - perhaps people from the same town, or a family group, or groups of Levites and priests, even members of the same trades such as perfumers and goldsmiths (verse 8).

Now, this won’t have happened by chance! Some serious and thoughtful planning must have been done in advance, presumably by Nehemiah himself and other gifted men he gathered around himself.

And so it is in the church. We need gifted administrators, people (not, of course, necessarily men) who can size up a situation and work out a way of dealing with it. Never put “spiritual” gifts in opposition to “practical” gifts! Both are needed.

Second, co-operation.

It’s worth noticing how often the words “next to him” occur in this chapter; these people worked, almost literally, shoulder to shoulder.

And so, again, it is with the church. Happy is that church where members join with one another in different projects and ministries, supporting and encouraging one another.

My experience suggests that there are few better ways of getting to know fellow-Christians than to work with them. (And few better ways of growing in the Christian life either!) Sharing in a joint task can be richly rewarding.

Third, sheer hard work.

The work the people undertook started hard - and got harder. We read in chapter 4, for example, that a point was reached where, in order to ward off enemy attack, some of the workers carried a sword or spear as well as their tools. Sometimes, it seems, they didn’t even undress at night.

The point for us as churches is obvious; putting it crudely, the church is a labour camp, not a holiday centre, and if we are not prepared to roll up our sleeves, we really aren’t much use to God. (It’s worth reading another Bible chapter with a lot of names: Romans 16. How many times does Paul say of different individuals that they “worked hard” in the Lord?)

Once the walls of Jerusalem were back up, it must have given those people with the unknown names enormous satisfaction: a job well done.

That’s the essence of Nehemiah 3, to me at least. But there’s more as well, which I’ll have to come back to next time. Look out for a post called “Sweet and sour” …

Father, you have called me to be a labourer in your vineyard. Help me to serve you willingly, joyfully and sacrificially, so that the day will come when I stand before you and hear your voice, “Well done, good and faithful servant”. Amen.

How to be holy

The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Galatians 5:22

When the New Testament talks about the Holy Spirit it’s likely to be talking about one of three things: patience, purity or comfort.

Comfort is a major theme in Jesus’ final conversation with his disciples, as he promises them that he will be with them for ever (John 14-16). You can’t get more comforting than that!

Power is what was shown on the Day of Pentecost (Acts 2) – the Spirit came like a gale-force wind and “tongues of fire”. Wind inspires, blowing away the cobwebs and breathing new life. Fire purges, burning away the dross of sin and compromise.

But purity is the focus of Paul’s great list - the “fruit of the Spirit” - in Galatians 5:22-23. The Spirit comes to live within us and produce in our characters a harvest (that’s pretty much what the word “fruit” means) of beautiful qualities. A good way to grasp the importance of what Paul is saying is to ask the question: What sort of world would planet earth be if every human being acted in accordance with this ideal? The answer is simple: it would be a paradise!

Wouldn’t we all love to make the world perfect? Of course we would. But that’s not possible. So our chief business as Christians is to live in such a way as to bring that little hint of paradise into our tiny corner of the world.

Various thoughts spring to mind…

First, fruit is something that grows naturally or not at all.

You can’t force it. You can, if you like, hang plastic pears or rubber grapes on their respective trees. They may look very nice. They may even look real. But it won’t take anyone long to discover that they’re fake – and a big, big disappointment.

In the same way we can train ourselves to put a nice covering on our personalities; this is what we mean by being “civilised”, and that’s fine.

But that isn’t what Paul is speaking about here. No. He is talking about something that grows, as it were organically, from deep within us. And it does so because it is essentially the work of God’s Spirit. You can tell a truly Spirit-filled person because they are natural, easy, unassuming; they don’t give the impression of trying to be something that they’re not. This is why it is so important to let the Spirit fill us every day; only then will the fruit flourish.

Second, this list isn’t optional.

You may have sat an exam where you are asked to tackle only a certain number of questions – four out of ten, say. You can safely ignore the other six; it won’t count against you.

But that isn’t how Paul’s list is to be treated! You can’t say “Well, I must admit that I’m not much good when it comes to love, patience and self-control. But joy, gentleness, kindness and faithfulness? – well, I reckon I’m not too bad there. And let’s face it, four out of nine isn’t bad!”

NO! These beautiful characteristics are intended to grow together, side by side. You never get any of them truly “sorted”; you can never tick any of them the list. And neither can you act as if some of them don’t matter. Indeed, examining them in that kind of way would be totally artificial, for the fact is that only someone else is in a position to judge how far on we are in this holy business of being “filled with the Spirit”. (In fact, anyone who claims “I am a Spirit-filled Christian” shows by that very fact that – they aren’t!)

Third, there’s a real sting in the tail of the list.

Read it right through and you get the impression of a very gentle kind of person. But bringing up the rear is something much more muscular, so to speak: self-control. Ah!

Do you find yourself thinking, “Ouch, that really is a weak spot of mine! Yes, I do have a tendency to fly off the handle… I can be pretty undisciplined… I’m a bit of a glutton, to be honest… I’m not really good at keeping confidences and generally guarding my tongue…”? I suspect many of us do.

I’m glad Paul put self-control in, because some Christians give the impression that, in their view, being Spirit-filled is a bit like floating on a spiritual cloud-nine, complete with an angelic smile on our face. Again, no! Growing the fruit of the Spirit calls for real determination and seriousness about following Christ.

As I said, it’s not for us to assess ourselves when it comes to being Spirit-filled – that’s for others to do. But what we can do – indeed, should do – is give this list serious thought, and ensure that we allow ourselves the conditions for such growth.

Jesus said, “Remain – abide – in me”. That’s what’s at the heart of it. That’s how to produce the fruit of the Spirit.

Lord God, make my life like a harvest-field, producing in me all that is pure, holy and Christ-like. Amen.

Read this book!

Read this book!

I don’t normally use my blogs to recommend books. In fact, I’ve never done so before. But I have just finished one that made such an impression on me that I decided this was an occasion to break the rule.

Over the years I have from time to time come across Philip Yancey’s books, and always found them helpful. The cover blurb of his latest one tells us that he has written twenty-five in all, with seventeen million in print and translations into fifty languages. Not bad, that!

It’s called Where the light fell. He describes it as a “memoir”, an autobiography, in effect. Now in his later years, he decided the time had come to survey his life and reflect on the events and circumstances which have shaped him. And, to summarise, I can only say that he has both a gripping story to tell and also a wonderful gift for telling it. He is a journalist by profession, not a pastor or teacher, and writes clear, fluent prose which makes for easy reading.

Easy, that is, in one way. In another way it is quite tough, for he is an American from the deep south, born shortly after the second world war, and his life has been dominated by what you can only call hyper-fundamentalism. In fact, speaking from a British perspective, this is the one drawback, for as you read you find yourself immersed in a brand of Christianity which you have probably heard about but never experienced at first hand, and some of the details of which beggar belief.

You could in fact describe it as a horror-story. Could Christian people really believe such things! Could Christian people really do such things! To both of which questions the staggering answer is, sadly, yes, they could; and yes, they did. (And, very likely, yes, they still do.)

Yancey’s father, a pastor, died in utterly tragic circumstances when he was a small child, and the book is the family story of Yancey himself, his widowed mother and his slightly older brother, including their spell as “white trailer-trash”.

His mother tipples over into a fanaticism bordering on the insane, his brilliantly gifted brother bounces around crazily between extreme faith, total rejection of faith and, you can’t help feeling, every possible madness in between. And in the middle of it all Yancey himself clings to an orthodox Christianity which enables him to write his books and to reflect on his family’s life, as in this one.

Just a few of his book-titles give a flavour of what you get from Yancey: Disappointment with God; The gift of pain (co-authored with the famous leprosy doctor Paul Brand); Prayer: Does it make any difference?; Where is God when it hurts?; A skeptic’s guide to faith.

You’ll gather from that that while he is not a scholar, he is very much a thinking Christian. He refuses to swallow party-lines or to dodge hard questions. And this is what makes his books so valuable. Let’s be honest, probably all of us, when we come across parts of the Bible which are hard to come to terms with, make a dive for the “easy” bits we might have learned in Sunday School. You can’t help wondering sometimes, indeed, if many congregations are fed Sunday by Sunday on a diet of shallow Christian platitudes which fail to feed the soul or stimulate the mind. If this is so, it’s the kind of thing Yancey kicks against.

Enough! I’ll leave it up to you decide if you feel he might be worth your time. Personally, though, I have no doubt!

Philip Yancey, Where the light fell, is published in the UK by Hodder and Stoughton.