Taste and see...

Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him. Psalm 34:8

Only once have I ever eaten oysters. It was in my student days, and I was hitch-hiking in France. The person who picked me up was friendly and generous, and he insisted that I must sample this famous delicacy. Well, I can’t pretend I particularly enjoyed it – I ended up thinking, “No, not really my thing, thanks very much”. But I was glad I’d given it a try; a box ticked, so to speak.

Taste is a vital human sense, and enormously varied. There’s sweet and there’s sour, there’s mustard and there’s honey, there’s salt and there’s sugar, and there’s a million variations in between. How infinite is God’s creativity!

No wonder meals figure so prominently in the Bible, including the sacred ones we call “communion” or “the eucharist” or “the Lord’s Supper”, where Christians remember the meaning of Jesus’ death for his people. He also made a point of sharing meals with the poor and those who might be despised by more “respectable” people. The fact is that people - whether family, friends or strangers - grouped around a table and sharing a meal (however basic and ordinary) is a beautiful symbol of human togetherness.

Psalm 34, one of the most glowingly reassuring in the whole book, starts as a testimony psalm. The writer (David, according to tradition) has come through a desperate time, but is able to testify that “I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears” (verse 4). That’s wonderful to know. But for me, the psalm reaches its climax in verse 8, which is essentially an invitation: he encourages his readers to “taste and see that the Lord is good”.

The most vital truth conveyed by that invitation is that God is a God to be experienced, not simply believed in.

The question arises: what does it mean to “taste and see that the Lord is good”? The psalmist is urging his readers to do something, but what might that something be? I ask because there could be people reading this blog for whom this is the most urgent question you need to face up to. You feel an inner emptiness; you know that there is something missing at the very core of your life. You may be “religious” in the conventional sense of that word – you may go regularly to church and even pray – but it doesn’t yield any kind of satisfaction.

That’s very different from the psalmist. He starts his psalm revelling in the reality of God. Just look at some of the verbs he uses in the first few verses: he “extols” God, he “praises” him, he “glories” in him, he wants to “exalt his name together with” his readers (good things are always worth sharing, aren’t they?). Do you find yourself envying the joy, peace and fulfilment that such words conjure up; do you feel yourself shut out from something very precious?

What then must you do? Well, let’s look at one or two other words which he uses to describe his own experience…

First, he sought the Lord (verse 4).

That means he looked for God with serious intent. It wasn’t a case of vaguely thinking: “I really must get to grips with this God business when I’ve got a bit more time…” No, it had risen to the top of his priorities. This will certainly have involved heart-felt prayer, prayer that welled up from the depths of his heart.

We sometimes say of somebody that they “mean business” about something they’re focussed on, they’re “not messing”. Are any of us, if we’re truly honest, really not serious? It’s a foolish and dangerous thing to mess with God.

Second, he called (verse 6) or cried out (verse 17). That makes me think of somebody in danger of drowning or threatened by a violent attack. For many of us, the thought of literally shouting out to God seems alien; it just isn’t something we do in our culture (and we may even be guilty of looking down on those who do). But then many of us have never been in literal fear of our lives.

Third, he came with deep humility. He describes himself rather pathetically as this poor man (verse 6), aware that he has no claims on God’s mercy but is in the position of a beggar. But isn’t that true, ultimately, of all of us? Our very lives are given to us by God, and he has power to withdraw life as and when he chooses.

All this means that the psalmist has found himself forced to get to grips with the deepest realities of life – something that many of us are very reluctant to do, turning a blind eye in the forlorn hope that they might just somehow “go away “ (they won’t).

There is so much we can learn from this psalmist. Of course, he was writing many years before the coming of Christ, whereas we are privileged and fortunate to know the full story of which he knew only the first part in prophetic glimpses; we know about Christ’s birth, life, death and rising again. Putting our faith in him is the biggest turning-point in our lives; it changes everything and makes us fit for a whole new world. That doesn’t mean all will immediately be easy and comfortable. But it does mean that a day will come when even our poor, pathetic faces will be “radiant” (verse 5).

So… “Taste and see that the Lord is good”. Is it time you took advantage of that loving invitation?

Father, I have known about you most of my life, but I realise that I have never actually come to know you personally. Please receive me now as I cry out to you with serious and determined intent, putting my trust in Jesus; may I indeed taste and see that you are good. Amen.

When the church becomes a clique

“Teacher”, said John, “we saw someone driving out demons in your name, and we told him to stop, because he was not one of us”. “Do not stop him,” Jesus said. “For no one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me, for whoever is not against us is for us. Truly I tell you, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to the Messiah will certainly not lose their reward”. Mark 9:39-41

It was the annual harvest festival service in the village chapel, and the place was packed. Bill, who had been a church member for longer than anyone could remember, stood watching the congregation as they got ready to leave. Mary noticed him taking it all in and said, “Ay, Bill, it’s good to see the place full, isn’t it?” Bill slightly shook his head and said, “Ay, I suppose so. But I must admit I prefer it when it’s just us”.

I prefer it when it’s just us… Sad, sad words! I can’t vouch for the truth of that story, but, however sad, I fear it could well be true. For we Christians can be terribly possessive and mean-spirited when it comes to our attitude to Jesus and the outside world. He’s our Jesus! he belongs to us! – and we turn the church, or our little bit of it, into a kind of holy club, an in-crowd, the only one which has everything right.

Jesus’ first disciples showed exactly the same kind of mentality. They happened across a man who was “driving out demons”. Well, that wasn’t all that unusual in the world of that time: wandering preachers, miracle-workers and exorcists were a regular sight, using a variety of methods and wordings. Perhaps the disciples just shrugged their shoulders and heaved a sigh.

But as they got closer their ears perked up – Hey! The name this man was using to drive out demons was that of Jesus – their Jesus! How dare he? This must be stopped! And so: “we told him to stop, because he was not one of us”.

Did he stop? Mark doesn’t tell us, nor Luke in his parallel passage (9:49-50). But it seems that the incident rattled the disciples enough for them to report it back to Jesus, perhaps with a misplaced pride in their loyalty to him, or just genuine puzzlement.

What does Jesus do? Simple: he tells them they got this wrong: “Do not stop him… for whoever is not against us is for us…”

“Whoever is not against us is for us”. Is that statement one that some of us have never really taken seriously? Are we too quick to dismiss people who, even though they may call themselves Christians, don’t for some reason identify with us? People, perhaps, who sing different hymns and songs? Who use a different Bible translation? Whose style of prayer or worship is different from what we’re used to? Who belong to a different denomination or movement? Who hold some item of doctrine that we believe is mistaken? – regarding the person and working of the Holy Spirit, perhaps? or the authority of scripture? or the truth of creation? or the right system of church government?

We know nothing about that man (“the strange exorcist”, the scholars call him) who the disciples felt needed to be put right. But we can imagine…

Suppose he had stood one day in the large crowd that came to listen to Jesus? Suppose he had been gripped by this new prophet’s electrifying words and wonderful deeds? Suppose his heart had been set on fire? Suppose he knew that his life could never be the same again? Suppose that, in a rush of enthusiasm, he had started telling everybody he met what had happened to him? Suppose that, having witnessed an act of “exorcism” – Jesus expelling demons from somebody – he had taken it upon himself to attempt the same thing in Jesus’ name?

What then? All right, that’s purely speculation, but it’s perfectly possible. Whatever, the fact is that Jesus (who at that point will not have known the truth about the man) spoke those words of loving rebuke: “Do not stop him… Whoever is not against us if for us”. And the question arises: is Jesus directing the same words to us? to me? But we’re just not hearing?

Of course, we need to take care. There is no shortage of false teachers, of would-be miracle-mongers, even exorcists, around today, just as in Jesus’ day. Religious charlatans abound! Jesus warned his disciples about them (eg Matthew 7:15-23), as did John (probably the very same John as the one who figures in this story: eg 1 John 2:18-27). We need to be discerning; truth matters. Indeed, according to Matthew 12:30, Jesus himself, in very different circumstances, made a statement to his disciples which on the surface directly contradicts what he says here: “Whoever is not with me is against me”. (You don’t have to think very hard, taking note of the context in which he was speaking, to see that there is no contradiction at all.)

Here are a couple of passages in Acts which, I think, throw light on all this. First, Acts18:24-26, where Priscilla and Aquila show how the disciples might have treated the strange exorcist more graciously and more humbly than they did: “Come and have a meal with us; there are a few things we would love to share with you…”

And then Acts 19:13-16, the dramatic episode of “the seven sons of Sceva” who “went around driving out evil spirits” and who “tried to invoke the name of the Lord Jesus…” Well, they tried, but thy didn’t get very far! In fact, they got far more than they bargained for – and it wasn’t nice…

Was this God’s way of urging his followers to relax, as if to say, “If somebody chooses to try and exploit my Son’s name, just leave it to me to sort them out. Your interference may be well-meaning, but I can do whatever’s necessary, thank you very much”.

Christian, be discerning, yes, of course; but be generous, be welcoming, be affirming too; not mean-minded, arrogant, not too sure of yourself…

Father, thank you for the open and generous heart of Jesus, happy to think the best and not the worst of outsiders. Give me such a heart, as well as a discerning and understanding mind. Amen.

Nice? or Nasty? or Neither?

Jesus said, “If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children…” Matthew 7:11

Jesus said, “Out of the heart come evil thoughts – murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander. These are what defile a man… Matthew 15:19-20

Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners – of whom I am the worst. 1 Timothy 1:15

There is no-one righteous, not even one… Romans 3:10

Do you like yourself? Do you think of yourself as a good person?

How’s that for a direct question?

In answer we might very well say, “Well, I wouldn’t claim to be perfect, of course! But I’d like to think I am at least no worse than the next person. I live a pretty honest life, I don’t cheat or lie or break the law, and if anybody needs a hand, well, I try to be there for them…”

This self-assessment may indeed be fairly accurate. But we need to recognise that many of us are fortunate to live in circumstances where life is relatively comfortable, if not always exactly easy: we have food and drink every day; we have medical care which, however stretched, is something really rather wonderful; we have received an adequate education, and possibly far better; we perhaps have a pretty good job, a good family life, and leisure pursuits which ease many of life’s pressures.

Let’s be honest, it’s relatively easy to live a civilised kind of life, to be polite and courteous, under such circumstances. Perhaps it’s not so much that we’re “good” people as that we’re “good-at-being-respectable” people, even good, putting it bluntly, at playing a part.

Whatever… I’ve drawn together three of the New Testament verses at the top which give us a rather different angle on the whole question. Do we have any cause for self-satisfaction?

First, in what seems almost like a throwaway remark Jesus casually assumes that his hearers are “evil”, a word that could be translated as “wicked”, or just plain “bad” (Matthew 7:11). It’s striking that this is in spite of the fact that, he says, they “know how to give good gifts to your children”; Jesus doesn’t question that the gifts they give are indeed “good”, but is obviously of the opinion that that fact doesn’t make them good as people. No, they are “evil”!

Second, there’s Paul, writing to his protégé Timothy (1Timothy 1:15). His main point is the basic and wonderful truth that “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners”, but then (quite unnecessarily, we might think) he adds a little rider: “of whom I am the worst”.

We might say “Ah yes, but that’s Paul talking, Paul who has already described himself as ‘a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man’, so it’s understandable that he should feel that way. He’s getting a backlog of guilt out of his system, and an element of exaggeration is to be expected”.

Third, though that may be true, we need only to turn to such ferocious passages as Romans 3:10-18 to see that it isn’t just him he’s thinking about; no, he regards the whole human race as falling under the same condemnation. No doubt there is an element of hyperbole (literary exaggeration) in such passages, but they strike home with uncomfortable force nonetheless.

What triggered these rather gloomy thoughts in me was a comment I read somewhere in C S Lewis (sorry, I can’t now remember where). As I remember, he was talking about our natural human tendency to think better of ourselves than we should: the “I’m not such a bad person really”… syndrome. And he said something along the lines: “Well, in fact, if I look inside myself with complete, ruthless honesty, if I gaze mercilessly into the murky depths of my own soul, I find it hard not to come to the conclusion that in stark reality I am really not a very nice person at all; that in fact I am really rather nasty…”

I think it was that ugly word “nasty” that caused his comment to lodge in my mind. I found myself thinking, “Yes, indeed! He’s absolutely right, of course. If I think highly of myself I am in fact just fooling myself”.

I started with a sharply personal question: Do you like yourself? Do you think of yourself as a good person?

Let me finish with another one. When did you last do what Lewis found himself doing, and look with ruthless honesty into the depths of your own soul? And if/when you did, what did you find there? Total honesty? Deep humility? Kindness? Love? Compassion? All those beautiful qualities we find listed in 1 Corinthians 13?

Or pride? jealousy? spite? vengefulness? anger? hatred? lust? laziness? All those ugly characteristics that we find listed in Matthew 15:19-20 or Galatians 5:19-21?

What Jesus calls us to is not mere niceness. Oh no! – that’s nothing to a reasonably good actor. That’s not the point. What Jesus calls us to is nothing less than holiness, which means partaking of the very character of God himself, carrying around in our everyday lives the very aroma of heaven.

Yes, let’s be respectable, of course, in the sense of “truly worthy of respect” in the eyes of others. But let’s not fool ourselves into thinking that we can deceive the one true and holy God, the one who loves us deeply - and the one who knows our very hearts (1 Samul 16:7).

Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Wash away all my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. Amen.

Here’s a little poem by that strange man William Blake (1757-1827), who wrote “Jerusalem” and “Tyger, tyger…”. I’m not sure I fully understand what he’s saying, but it seemed to chime in with the C S Lewis quote: if nothing else, it’s about that deep, inner nastiness. Whatever, I invite you to see what you make of it.

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend; 

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe: 

I told it not, my wrath did grow. 

 

And I watered it in fears,

Night & morning with my tears: 

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles. 

 

And it grew both day and night. 

Till it bore an apple bright. 

And my foe beheld it shine,

And he knew that it was mine. 

 

And into my garden stole, 

When the night had veiled the pole; 

In the morning glad I see; 

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.