Is it ever right to lie?

The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, whose names were Shiphrah and Puah, “When you are helping the Hebrew women during childbirth on the delivery stool, if you see that the baby is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, let her live.” The midwives, however, feared God and did not do what the king of Egypt had told them to do; they let the boys live. 

Then the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and asked them, “Why have you done this? Why have you let the boys live?” The midwives answered Pharaoh, “Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive.” So God was kind to the midwives and the people increased and became even more numerous. And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families of their own. Exodus 1:15-21

Is it ever right for a child of God to lie?

In the Bible the “snake” (Satan) is depicted as telling the first lie (Genesis 3:1-5), and Jesus describes “the devil” as “a liar and the father of lies” (John 8:44). You would think that’s pretty decisive, wouldn’t you? – God hates lies, end of.

Yet here in Exodus 1 we find a story which puts a rather different slant on things…

The people of Israel are in slavery in Egypt, but they have grown greatly in numbers, to the point where the Egyptian king, the Pharaoh, is worried and decides something must be done. Putting it simply, all the Hebrew baby boys are to be killed at birth. But to achieve this, he needs to recruit the help of two midwives, Shiphrah and Puah.

Unknown to him, the midwives refuse to do as they are told - an act of rebellion against the most powerful man in the land which is surely very impressive.

But what about the next act in the drama? When the Pharaoh takes them to task for disobeying him they seem, on the face of it, to tell an out-and-out lie: “’Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive’” (verse 19). Whereupon, we read, “God was kind to the midwives…”

You can’t help wondering: God’s hatred of lies seems to be not quite absolute!

There are other occasional Bible examples of people lying in the service of God. A clear one is Rahab the harlot (Joshua 2), who hid two Israelite spies from the pagan King of Jericho, lied about what she had done – and was honoured for doing so (Joshua 6:22-25).

What should we make of examples like this?

There is, of course, a difference between a lie told by a basically good and honest person in order to achieve a good end - and when there really doesn’t seem to be any alternative -  and a deliberate attempt to deceive in order to do something malicious and harmful. And there are what used to be called “white lies” – harmless untruths told as a joke or even out of genuine affection.

But, well, a lie is a lie, and God is the God of truth.

Probably most Christians would agree that under some circumstances a lie may be justified. An extreme scenario… You’re strolling through a wood one day and a child comes down the path followed a couple of minutes later by a man with a blood-stained knife, asking “Which way did that child go?” Would it be wrong to point in the opposite direction?

But even that is strictly a lie, and there are Christians who would refuse to tell it. The story is well known of the Dutch ten Boom family who ran a jewellers shop in Amsterdam during the second world war. They used their shop to shelter Jewish people who were being hunted by Nazi soldiers.

One of the daughters, Betsy, was a very committed Christian. One day when the soldiers came unexpectedly, and several Jewish refugees had been hurriedly ushered under a table with a cloth that reached down to the floor, she replied to a soldier’s demand “Where are the Jews?” with complete honesty: “Under the table”. Whereupon the soldiers failed to look, thinking Betsy might be trying to make fools of them.

Well, I suppose you can only admire such breath-taking faith. But I think many Christians would have been tempted to go down the same road as Shiphrah and Puah! And would anybody be entitled to condemn them? (Quite apart from anything else, taking such a massive risk of faith presumably isn’t quite so hard when it’s not your own life that is at stake...)

We live in a world which is awash with lies – or with “fake truth” as it’s called. For many people lying is completely routine, and they feel not the slightest pang of conscience. But, setting aside the morality of it, once you’ve been detected in a lie, why should anybody ever believe you again? You gain a reputation, and so it becomes a self-defeating tactic.

The reputation of the Christian should be one of spotless truthfulness, and that means not only “speaking the truth” in the most basic and obvious sense, but being an utterly reliable, solid and faithful person. Such a reputation is precious beyond words.

As for those really tricky situations, well, surely we can entrust them humbly to the tender mercy of God, do what we feel we must, and let him do the judging?

Father, you tell us that you love “the one whose way is blameless, who does what is righteous, who speaks the truth from their heart” (Psalm 15). Please help me to never be content with anything less than that. Amen.

A substitute religion?

I urge, then, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people – for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. 1 Timothy 2:1-2

Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except what God has established. Romans 13:2

We had a phone call the other day from somebody wondering if we shared his distaste at the torrent of gushy sentimentality (as he saw it) following the death of the Queen. We were glad to assure him that yes, we did share it - that, indeed, there were moments we found ourselves wondering “Is there something wrong with me that this national outpouring of grief leaves me, to be honest, rather cold?”

Sadness, yes of course. A real sense of shock, by all means. A focus on the universally recognised qualities of the Queen, who was clearly a wonderful person – her devotion to duty, her dignity, her integrity, her faith, her humour - absolutely yes. But surely a lot of what we have seen is, to borrow the cliche, rather “over the top”? One tries not to slip into cynicism, but it’s hard not to wonder if much of this is really slightly unhealthy. Is it in fact a symptom of a substitute religion?

Well, we will all have our own opinions. But these dramatic, historic events prompt a down-to-earth question: How should we as Christians respond to those who govern us and “rule over us”? Does the Bible offer any guidelines?

The answer is a big Yes. Boiling it down, I would suggest that we have two basic obligations laid upon us by our Christian discipleship.

First: to pray for those in authority.

This is spelt out clearly in the two verses from 1Timothy I have quoted above. Paul urges us to pray “for all people”, but he then goes on to make special mention of “kings and all those in authority”.

That surely covers an enormous swathe of people – any who through their decision-making have a significant impact on our lives: politicians, of course, but also “captains of industry”, “influencers” (whatever they may be!), educators, writers, even television and sporting personalities.

We may not realise it, but our attitudes and life-styles are shaped by people whose influence may or may not be good. So they need our prayers, as much for our own sakes as for theirs.

Perhaps the Queen’s death will prompt us to pray in a more focussed way for all the members of the royal family, for the glare of publicity makes us aware that at heart they are just people like the rest of us, with the same feelings, strengths, weaknesses and peculiarities as we all have. We may be tempted to envy their wealth and splendour; but on reflection, would we really want to be born with such an enormous burden on our shoulders? Not me, thanks very much!

Second: to be good citizens.

This is a brief summary of Romans 13, especially verse 1: “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except what God has established”.

When we read those words we need to remember that the “governing authorities” in Paul’s world were anything but Jewish or Christian: no, they were pagans who operated by means of a cruel military machine and whose empire, the Roman empire, depended to a large extent on slavery.

Other Bible passages make clear that there are times when people of Christian faith must in fact stand out against the governing authorities. If it comes down to obeying God versus obeying human governments, there can be no question: loyalty to God takes priority.

But Paul here is recognising that human societies need law; otherwise they descend into chaos and anarchy – exactly as we see in many parts of the world today. And so, unless there is some very compelling reason, loyal citizenship is incumbent upon Christian people.

This, again, covers an enormous swathe of things: from obeying the law and paying our taxes to being good neighbours and observing speed limits… we can all add to that list!

Being a Christian, then, lays these two obligations upon us. But going back to our present situation, it’s worth mentioning that there are different areas too where we are not under obligation. No, there is nothing necessarily wrong with us if we find ourselves repelled by excessive displays of emotion (is that something the Queen would have wanted?)! And, of course, there’s no obligation to actually like some of the people we pray for!

We should not allow our faith in God to become corrupted by excessive loyalty to our nation. It’s well known that the Russian Orthodox church is currently in full support of President Putin and his war in Ukraine: it is, apparently, a Christian duty to stand up for “Mother Russia”. And in America, I read that some churches tell their members which candidates to vote for at elections. This cannot be right.

A footnote… At another level, there’s a danger of allowing our doctrine to be coloured by sub-Christian or downright non-Christian influences.

There’s a poem doing the rounds at the moment on social media which depicts the Queen’s death as resulting from Prince Philip beckoning her to join him, and is accompanied by a cute little cartoon of the two them sitting together, presumably in some kind of heaven.

One hesitates to trample too hard on something which apparently brings comfort to many. But let’s call it what is: sheer sentimental tosh.

Let scripture be our guide, not this kind of folksy, gushy nonsense!

Father, you have blessed us in Britain with the gift of a truly admirable Queen over the last seventy years. Thank you. But help us to remember that in Jesus you have given us the King of kings and Lord of lords, and that it is he who commands our ultimate allegiance. Amen.

A wasted life?

Now Stephen, a man full of God’s grace and power, performed great wonders and signs among the people… All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel. Acts 6:8-15

If I had to choose one New Testament person that I would like to know more about, I think it would be Stephen. The verses I have quoted above make it clear that he was an exceptional man, yet he is here and gone in the blink of an eye, right at the very birth of the church.

He appears first in Acts 6, and is described as “full of faith and of the Holy Spirit” (verse 5), as “full of God’s grace and power”, and as “performing great wonders and signs among the people” (verse 8). That’s recorded in a low-key, matter-of-fact way, as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world, but if we let our minds dwell on it for a few moments we realise how very special he must have been. (Quite like Jesus, in fact.)

And then, in verse 15, we learn that when under severe duress – even the threat of a violent death - “his face was like the face of an angel”. Can you imagine that?

In the next chapter we read a long speech he made to “the Sanhedrin” (the Jewish ruling council), which, to be honest, we might find a bit boring at first. And that is the last we hear of him. He is stoned to death, praying two wonderful prayers: “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit”, and “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (Acts 7:59-60). (Both prayers remind us, of course, of the dying Jesus.)

I can’t help wondering what his “back-story” was. What sort of age was he? Was he married? Did he have children? What was his daily work? Where did he come from? How did he become a follower of Jesus?

Well, God hasn’t chosen to satisfy our curiosity, so it’s no business of ours to probe. But Stephen’s brief appearance on the stage of history prompts another question in our minds: Was his life a wasted life? Putting it another way, it prompts those two tantalising words: What if…? Suppose he had had, say, another ten years on this earth, what might he have achieved in the service of Christ?

The sermons he might have preached… the miracles he might have worked… the lives he might have changed. He might well have been remembered as up there with Peter, James, John and Paul, the “stars” of the infant church.

But no. No sooner does he come to newness of life in Christ than his earthly life is cruelly snuffed out. Why does God allow that? What is he up to?

Well, there is a limit to how far we should question. But various important truths stand out from this story…

First, always be prepared for death.

When Stephen got out of bed that morning, very likely he was expecting a perfectly normal day. But it wasn’t to be. And quite possibly that’s how our final day will be too. So the wise course is to look death fairly and squarely in the face; not, of course, to be over-preoccupied with it, but to talk about it and to prepare for it.

Second, accept that this is one of those areas where God’s ways are not our ways, his thoughts not our thoughts.

However strong our belief in eternal life and its glory, the fact is that simply being human means we are hard-wired to cling to earthly life; that’s the way we are made. God, in comparison, seems quite casual; and so when somebody is “cut off in their prime” or in particularly tragic circumstances, or, of course, when a child dies, we are likely to feel confused and possibly angry.

Perhaps this is the ultimate test of faith. It’s easy enough to say “I believe” in many of the teachings of the Christian faith, but to solidly believe that Jesus died and rose again and that we will do the same may be another matter. If – when – that faith wobbles, let’s not feel guilty or depressed but share it with friends in Christ; and, of course, lay it before God. He understands, and he will bring comfort and hope.

Third, let God alone be the judge of any life’s usefulness.

Yes, Stephen might have accomplished great things. But who are we to say? The sheer impact of his Christlike character, the effect of those miraculous deeds, the sight of his angelic face, above all the manner in which he embraced his death – all that, and more, may have brought more people to faith in Jesus than the full life-span of many others. (And we can never calculate to what extent his death contributed to the conversion of that young man at whose feet those who carried out the stoning “laid their coats”… (Acts 7:58).)

Fourth, be realistic about dying.

Francis of Assisi addressed “thou, most kind and gentle death, waiting to hush our latest breath”, which seems very admirable. But is it really biblical? For the vast majority of even strong Christians, death is anything but “kind and gentle”.

I always take comfort from what we read in Acts 8:2: “Godly men buried Stephen and mourned deeply for him”. There was, it seems, no forced rejoicing, no put-on celebration. Yes, they knew that death is a defeated enemy – as Paul puts it, the last enemy (1 Corinthians 15:26).

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t still an enemy!

Lord Jesus, please help me to shine for you every day of my living – and also on the day of my dying. Amen.

A cry from the heart

Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone. Psalm 71:9

We live in a culture where it is quite normal to mock the elderly; they are “past their use by date”, perhaps referred to as “wrinklies” or something equally disrespectful. Some of this mockery may be light-hearted and even affectionate, but the implied comment is clear - once you reach a certain point in your life, you have little either to contribute or to look forward to. The implication, taken to its logical conclusion, is that you’re just waiting for death.

Other cultures see things very differently: the old are honoured and even venerated. This certainly applied in ancient Israel: for example, God commands his people to “stand up in the presence of the aged, show respect for the elderly and revere your God” (Leviticus 19:32). Proverbs 16:31 tells us that “grey hair is a crown of splendour; it is attained in the way of righteousness” (though that second part is hardly a universal rule, is it? -  there are plenty of stupid and even bad grey-haired people about!).

Given that this respectful attitude is commanded, Psalm 71 may come to us as something of a surprise. The writer is clearly either already old or on the brink of it, and he is fearful of being thought of as on the scrap-heap. And it has affected his thinking even about God, for he prays “Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone”.

We instinctively want to reply “Of course not! Why would your loving God even dream of doing such a thing!” But, of course, not all our worries and fears are logical, and just that one verse is a clear insight into the way even the most godly man or woman may sometimes feel.

However old or young we might be, there are clear messages in this powerful psalm.

First, for those who are already old…

(1) Never doubt the faithfulness of God.

The writer’s faith, built up over a long life, is solid. He describes God as “my rock and my fortress” (verse 3) and as “my strong refuge” (verse 7). He declares that “as for me, I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more” (verse 14). He recognises that life hasn’t always been easy: he has seen “troubles, many and bitter” (verse 20), but that doesn’t leave him hopeless.

Yet still he feels the need to cry out to God for reassurance.

This reminds us that our feelings are more changeable than the weather, and are not an accurate reflection of the way things actually are. There are times we need to summon up our faith and ask for grace simply to defy them; indeed, to tell them that they are liars.

(2)  Never doubt your usefulness to God.

This basic lesson is simple: as long as God gives you another day on earth, you have a contribution to make.

The psalmist may be feeling some very understandable qualms, yet a positive strand runs through his prayer. “I will ever praise you” he declares (verse 6); “My mouth is filled with your praise, declaring your splendour all day long” (verse 8). He hasn’t given up on worship! No, even if, in old age, his voice has become a bit thin and reedy, that’s not going to stop him plucking his harp and shouting God’s praise (verse 22-23). (And if the people standing next to him are tempted to put their fingers in their ears, well, so be it!)

Nor has he given up on what we might think of as evangelism: “My mouth will tell of your righteous deeds…” (verses 15-16). He is aware of his responsibility to pass on the good news of God’s love to “the next generation… to all who are to come” (verse 18). I suspect that many of us who were converted young owe a lot to the words and witness of old people who, in our hearts, we were tempted to despise: that’s certainly true for me.

So this psalm has much encouragement for those who are already old.

But, second, it can also speak to those still young…

All right, I don’t think anybody is going to insist that you literally “stand up in the presence of the aged”. But – well, how about simply noticing them? listening to what they have to say? finding small ways to be of practical help?

The recent pandemic offers a good example. Many churches report how people went missing from worship and fellowship while meeting physically was not possible. Perhaps most have since returned; but there are those who haven’t, and, as we might expect, many of those are among the elderly. How about following one or two up? Perhaps their health has deteriorated, or their faith has faltered. Perhaps they feel “cast away”, by the church, if not by God.

In my pastoral experience there are few sadder experiences than meeting an old Christian who, for whatever reason, is no longer able to attend church and now feels cut adrift. There was a time when thy never missed a service, they taught children or led a mid-week meeting, they worked tirelessly on practical tasks, they served energetically at the heart of the church’s life. After they stopped physically attending, various people did their best to keep in touch and the pastor aimed to call frequently.

But time has gone on, and gradually these contacts have fizzled out. Oh, they still have faith in God. But even the truest of Christians can experience sheer spiritual loneliness.

Is there a ministry there waiting to be exercised?

Father, thank you that you love and value every one of your people, from the youngest child to the oldest adult. Teach me to do the same, and if I am still in the prime of life, help me to find the joy of being a blessing to those who are nearer the end. Amen.

So you think you're important, do you?

When he noticed how the guests picked the places of honour at the table, he told them this parable: “When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honour, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, ‘Give this person your seat.’ Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, ‘Friend, move up to a better place.’ Then you will be honoured in the presence of all the other guests. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” Luke 14:7-11

I had a friend who described one of her favourite hobbies as “people-watching”. She found pleasure even on holiday in simply sitting and observing the people around her. She wasn’t being nosey; she just had a curious nature.

Usually when we think of Jesus we picture him right at the heart of things – standing to teach before a great crowd of people; or the focal point of a group witnessing a miracle of healing; supremely, of course, at the centre of a terrible death scene, nailed to a cross between two criminals. The centre of things – a fitting place for the one who is to be elevated as Lord of all creation.

But there were also times when he became a people-watcher.

Luke tells us that, attending a high society banquet, “he noticed how the guests picked the places of honour at the table”. I picture him sitting quietly to one side, with a slightly frowny smile on his face, while the guests jostled for the best places at the table. This is foolish, he says. What if someone more distinguished turns up, and you suffer the humiliation of being asked to take a lower place? Is that a risk worth taking?

I’m sure Jesus isn’t wanting to offer advice about the social etiquette of attending a party. No: there is a much bigger message here - about the dangers of pride, of status-seeking, of wanting to be top dog.

I watched a film once where the names of the actors came up at the start in a very strange way. One star’s name appeared first on the left of the empty screen, but halfway down from the top. When that name had faded, the next name appeared, this time on the right of the screen, but at the top. Very odd, I thought. I later learned that this arrangement was the result of hours of fierce negotiations between the representatives of the two stars, by which neither could claim to be the star.

It's easy to smile. But haven’t all of us sometimes felt “put out” because we weren’t given the kind of recognition or status we felt we were  entitled to?

Jesus’ lesson is told in the context of the Pharisees, who had the reputation of being the topmost dogs of all in the religious scene. But it can happen in almost any setting.

John the Baptist was a truly humble man, very happy to fade into insignificance once Jesus had appeared on the scene. But his disciples were rather different. One day they got involved in some kind of squabble about “ceremonial washing”, and took up the cudgels on behalf of their teacher: “Rabbi, that man who was with you on the other side of the Jordan – the one you testified about – look, he is baptising, and everyone is going to him…” (John 3:26). As if to say: This must stop! Master, you were on the scene first – it’s quite wrong that this Jesus should be stealing the limelight.

And John – bless him! – puts them right, and silences them with the final, perfect word on this subject: “He must become greater; I must become less” (John 3:30). Can you imagine a better motto for any follower of Jesus? Is it your motto? Is it mine?

Jesus’ own disciples were no better. Luke tells us that “an argument started among the disciples as to which of them would be the greatest” (Luke 9:46). How petty! How pathetic!

Jesus responds to this not simply with words, but by setting a child in the middle of the group (I wonder if that child remembered this event into adulthood?) and telling them that “it is the one who is least among you all who is the greatest” (verse 48). In the kingdom of God there is, quite simply, no room for status-seeking or ego-trips.

This doesn’t mean that a Christian should never be ambitious; there’s nothing wrong with aiming to be the best we can be in our secular employment, our parenting, our leisure and sporting pursuits, or our use of the many gifts and talents God has put within us. But simply that this success must never be in pursuit of personal self-esteem or the desire for praise.

Nor, of course, is there any room for false humility, a crawling, put-on, Uriah Heep type of lowliness which makes people’s toes curl. No: just a Christlike humility which is content not to be noticed or recognised if that is what’s called for.

One of the greatest things ever written about Jesus is that he “made himself nothing” (literally he “emptied himself”: Philippians 2:7).

The plain fact is that it is by becoming nothing that we become something. That is the way of fulfilment, peace and joy. And there is no other.

Lord Jesus, please drain out of my soul every hint of self-importance and self-love, and to you be all the glory. Amen.

My apology to Martin Luther

I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple. The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendour into it. Revelation 21:22-24

I preached recently on the return of Jesus in glory, and the need for us to be ready for his return. The Bible passage was Matthew 25:1-13, the story of the wise and foolish bridesmaids. It makes the point pretty clearly.

The big question, of course, is: What does it actually mean to be “ready”? To which the simple answer is: To get on day by day doing what you have to do, and doing it well, for the glory of God. A quote came to mind which I think goes back to Martin Luther (please correct me here if you know better): “If I knew Jesus was coming back tomorrow I would plant an apple-tree today”.

I understood that as meaning what I have just said: Just get on and do something useful and productive. But I did also dare to question the logic of it: planting an apple-tree is of course a good thing to do, but if it’s never going to grow…? I noticed people in the congregation, their brows furrowed, nodding in agreement. Oh well, we all have our off-days, don’t we, so why shouldn’t that include history-changing religious leaders?

But in the following days I found myself wondering if I had done Luther an injustice. Let me try and explain.

When we think about “the end of the world”, about heaven and hell, about “life after death”, we tend to think in terms of discontinuity: one state is abruptly ended and a new one takes over. It’s like that too with “heaven and “earth” – earth is “down here”, heaven is “up there”, and they are completely separate.

All very simple and clear. But is that in fact what the Bible teaches?

In the book of Revelation John describes a remarkable vision of, among other things, “what will take place later” (Revelation 1:19). Near the end, in chapter 21, he saw “a new heaven and a new earth” - that’s pretty much a direct quote from Isaiah 65:17. It’s interesting that both the Old Testament prophet and the New Testament seer speak about “a new earth”, not just about “heaven”.

This suggests that our final destiny after death and resurrection is not just a matter of “going to heaven”, but also has what we might think now is quite an “earthly” dimension as well. In some sense, admittedly very hard to imagine, heaven and earth become one: there is continuity as well as discontinuity.

What John sees is a “city” – “the holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband” (verse 22). This new Jerusalem is roughly 1400 hundred miles high and wide and long – in other words, it’s a massive cube!

This baffles our imaginations, of course; it is symbolic rather than literal language, so we need to ask what it signifies. Then we remember that the “holy of holies” in the earthly tabernacle and temple, the most sacred place in the Jewish faith, was – a cube. The “new Jerusalem” is the dwelling place of God in a complete and perfect way, as the earthly temple could never be.

There’s one very striking detail that John gives us about this heaven-and-earth-combined city. In verse 24 he tells us that “the nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendour into it”. Even more, in verse 26 he tells us that “the glory and honour of the nations will be brought into it”.

How can this be! The “kings of the earth” and “the nations” are portrayed in Revelation as rebels against God! Certainly, John goes on to make clear that “nothing impure will ever enter” the new Jerusalem (verse 27). And yet, in some manner that defies our understanding, it seems that the kings and the nations will contribute to the glory of God’s dwelling place.

What has all this got to do with Martin Luther’s apple-tree? Well, I can only speculate. But if earthly kings will “bring their splendour” into the new Jerusalem, may not lesser mortals like the rest of us do likewise? Could it be that Luther determined to plant an apple-tree because he believed that while it would never grow on “earth”, it might just be one of those many fruit-trees that John saw growing in “heaven”?

One commentator, Michael Wilcock, says this: “all that is truly good and beautiful in this world will reappear there, purified and enhanced in the perfect setting its Maker intended for it; nothing of real value is lost”.

If that is so, is it wrong to think that even some of our deeds and actions, duly perfected of course, will make their contribution? Could it be that Luther was onto something that I, for one, had never seriously thought about before?

Perhaps we need to rethink our ideas of “heaven”, and what it’s going to be like. Not static, not like a tableau, however awesome, but pulsating with life, truly life in all its glorious variety and vitality. It almost makes you want to be there right now, doesn’t it?

Lord, please help me to live every day of this earthly life in such a way that I, even I, have some little contribution to offer in the heavenly Jerusalem. Amen.

Kindness

Love is patient, love is kind… 1 Corinthians 13:4

I knew a man once who worked as a chaplain at the local hospital. In the children’s ward he was known as “the kind man”.

When I heard that I simply smiled: I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful description for anybody, and I have since come to the conclusion that “kind” is one of the most beautiful words in the English language. It is such a quiet, unpretentious, unassuming word, yet so meaningful too. Oh for more kindness in our angry, arguing, jealous, vengeful, spiteful, hard-hearted world!

It's no accident that this word appears in Paul’s two great lists in the New Testament.

In his celebration of love (1 Corinthians 13) it’s right there at the start: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs…”

And there it is again in his catalogue of the “fruit”, or harvest, of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-24): “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control”.

How can we define kindness?

One way is to look at all the things Paul says love isn’t in 1 Corinthians 13: it’s not jealous, boastful or arrogant; not contemptuous of others or self-seeking, not easily angered, no harbourer of grudges…

Putting it positively, you could just tip various qualities such as gentleness, consideration, thoughtfulness, humility, helpfulness, good humour, pleasantness, good-heartedness, into a big pot, stir thoroughly, and - hey presto, there you have kindness. Kindness is all the things you instinctively like other people to be, even when you fall short yourself. It may not be easy to pin it down precisely, but you know it when you see it – oh, how you know it when you see it!

You could also, of course, reflect on stories of kindness in the Bible: Joseph was kind to his brothers (Genesis 50:21), Boaz to Ruth (Ruth 2-3), the Roman centurion Julius to the prisoner Paul (Acts 27:3).These examples show that being kind is more than just “being a nice person”; real resolve and sacrifice may be required.

And when it comes to Jesus – well, where do you start? He reached out his hands to touch people with leprosy; he wept at the tomb of Lazarus and over the doomed city of Jerusalem; he stopped a funeral procession and restored a dead man to his weeping mother (“his heart went out to her”, Luke 7:13); he prayed on the cross for those who were torturing him to death.

Never mind where you start – where do you stop!

Dictionaries of quotations can yield rich fruit. I’ve been rummaging about, and here are a few results. They may not all be absolutely true, but they have certainly given me things to think about, which I hope might make me a better person. I hope you might find them thought-provoking too…

Kind words are the music of the world. They have a power which seems to be beyond natural causes, as though they were some angel’s song which had lost its way and come to earth.

Kindness has converted more sinners than zeal, eloquence and learning. (Both F W Faber)

Kindness spoken here. (Sign in a shop window)

Be kind; everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. (John Watson)

That best portion of a good man’s life - /His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love. (William Wordsworth)

All worldly joys go less/ To the one joy of doing kindnesses. (Gorge Herbert)

Getting money is not all a man’s business: to cultivate kindness is a valuable part of the business of life.

Kindness is in our power, but fondness is not. (Both Samuel Johnson)

Hey, am I getting sentimental! I hope not (if you know me you will know that that would be against my nature)!

No, we must of course recognise that being a true follower of Jesus requires us to face up to, and sometimes confront, ugly and hard things. Kindness isn’t mushy and gloopy, fronted by a plastic smile. But a reminder of the call to be kind can do most of us, I suspect, little harm.

Lady Macbeth rebuked her husband for being “too full o’ the milk of human kindness”. Mmm. Is that possible, do you think? Can you ever have too much of such a beautiful thing as kindness? I rather doubt it.

And if we aren’t sure about that, well, we know what happened to Lady Macbeth, don’t we? (Don’t we?)

Gracious Father, take away from me all hardness and indifference, and fill me with the lovely kindness of Jesus. Amen.