Does God still heal?

14 At Iconium Paul and Barnabas went as usual into the Jewish synagogue. There they spoke so effectively that a great number of Jews and Greeks believed. ² But the Jews who refused to believe stirred up the other Gentiles and poisoned their minds against the brothers. ³ So Paul and Barnabas spent considerable time there, speaking boldly for the Lord, who confirmed the message of his grace by enabling them to perform signs and wonders. ⁴ The people of the city were divided; some sided with the Jews, others with the apostles. ⁵ There was a plot afoot among both Gentiles and Jews, together with their leaders, to mistreat them and stone them. ⁶ But they found out about it and fled to the Lycaonian cities of Lystra and Derbe and to the surrounding country, ⁷ where they continued to preach the gospel. Acts 14:1-7

It was, I think, a Church of England bishop who lamented the difference between his ministry and that of the apostle Paul: “Why is it that everywhere Paul went there was a riot, but everywhere I go they make cups of tea?”

A nice joke, and it contains an element of truth. In the New Testament the preaching of the gospel often provoked fierce, even violent, opposition. This is true, according to Acts 14, of the witness of Paul and Barnabas in the city of Iconium (just one example among many); they ended up fleeing for their lives. There are still parts of the world where that sort of thing happens, but they certainly aren’t common in the western world, which, while it may not be truly “Christian”, is certainly “christianised”.

But I can’t help wondering if that bishop was being a bit hard on himself. I’m sure there were preaching occasions for the New Testament apostles which ended up pretty humdrum – Paul’s ministry in Athens, for example (Acts 17:16-34), caused a bit of “sneering” certainly, but we get the impression that Paul’s departure was dignified and untroubled.

There’s another difference between Iconium and Athens: in Iconium God “confirmed the message of his grace by enabling them to perform signs and wonders”, whereas no such thing is said about Athens – Paul operated as a preacher pure and simple, not as a wonder-worker. This reminds us of a vital truth: when it comes to making Christ known, word and deed need to accompany one another; words alone are not enough. (This is no criticism of Paul, of course – signs and wonders depend upon God’s “enabling”, and if God didn’t provide that enabling, well, that was just the way it was.)

Two questions occur to me.

First, in our evangelism how seriously do we take the need for our words to be backed up by our deeds? – in our case, by the witness of our everyday lives? Putting it negatively, does the way we live and talk ever undermine the message we profess to believe?

That’s a question we need to be putting regularly to ourselves.

Second, what about “signs and wonders”? Should we expect them to accompany our evangelism more often? I suspect this is what may have been troubling that bishop; after all, it’s probably what provoked the rioting.

To answer the question, I think we need to recognise first that our world is very different from the New Testament world. In those far-off days the gospel message was brand new – a divine saviour who allowed himself to be crucified, but who then rose from the dead! - so there was a shock element when this truth was proclaimed, and not everyone could stomach it. Not only did it seem literally incredible, but it offended long-held beliefs, especially among the people of Israel: this crucified man Jesus was said to be their long-awaited king, their messiah! The whole idea was preposterous, indeed blasphemous.

Today, on the other hand, most people have heard at least the name of Jesus, and have some idea, however vague or mistaken, about his story. The shock element is missing, so people are likely to respond merely with puzzlement or indifference: the “so-what?” response. Making the ancient story fresh and newly relevant without being shallow or gimmicky is not easy! We can’t force God to provide that “enabling” of signs and wonders.

When wondering about signs and wonders today, most Christians retreat into one of two camps. Taking them at their extremes…

First, there are the sceptics, who maintain, in effect, that the days of miracles are past, and we simply shouldn’t expect them or pray for them. I once heard somebody justify this interpretation on the basis of 1 Corinthians 13:10: “when completeness (or perfection) comes, what is in part disappears”. They applied this to “charismatic” gifts as a whole, now that the “perfect” – which they interpreted as the complete Bible – has come.

That, I think, is a very artificial stretch, to say the least! The New Testament never clearly makes any such suggestion, and passages such as James 5:13-16, however puzzling we may find them, seem to flatly contradict it.

Second, there are those who believe we should not only be open to signs and wonders, but should actively seek them. They might even scold the rest of us for lack of faith, as Jesus reprimanded his disciples (for example, Matthew 8:26). If only we had more faith, miracles would come tumbling around our heads!

But that simply doesn’t square with the reality of either experience or of scripture. Men and women of truly wonderful faith often pray for healing or other miracles, yet seem to see very little or nothing at all as a result. And as we work through the New Testament we find that even such a great wonder-worker as Paul didn’t always expect them (I love 2 Timothy 4:20: “I left Trophimus ill at Miletus”, which prompts the question: “You did? But why, Paul…?). Even of Jesus it was said that “he could not do any miracles there…” (Mark 6:5).

I suggest that we need to steer a middle course between scepticism (“healings just don’t happen any more”) and unrealistic expectations (“just have more faith!”). Personally, I have always felt it right to pray for miracles, especially if asked, sometimes with laying on of hands or anointing with oil (though never, in my case, with tongues, as I don’t have that gift). Have “miracles” happened as a result? Only very rarely.

But I have to say: as a result we have experienced very precious times of blessing – and always, something good has happened.

Why not at least ask in humble faith – and then just leave it to God to do as he sees fit? Who knows what might happen? One thing is sure: something will.

Lord, I confess that sometimes reading your word can be a little disappointing, leaving me wondering why miracles seem to happen so rarely today. Please help me nonetheless to step out in faith, to pray for big things from you, and to expect real answers as a result, even if they may not come in the form I hoped for. Your will be done! Amen.

Giving up on Jesus?

Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink”…

From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him. John 6:53-66

Normally, when I start a new blog, I aim to write something that will make sense to anybody and everybody who might happen to hit on it, whether Christians or not.

But today is different. I feel it right to target one group of people in particular - anyone who is thinking about giving up on Jesus, like those mentioned in John 6:66: “disciples” (yes, they’re called that) who “turned back and no longer followed him”.

This happens. You don’t have to be a pastor to be aware of people who used to be part of the church, but who now are absent. They might, of course, have decided to go to another church, or to continue to follow Jesus from the privacy of their own home (whether that’s right or wrong is another matter). But there are also those who have simply ceased to follow Jesus: “ex-Christians”, we might call them. I would be delighted if I might say something that deters somebody from taking that step. To have found, only then to give away, the “pearl of great price” (Matthew 13:45-6) is truly tragic.

Why does this happen? There are various possible reasons, one of which applies particularly to the people in John 6: they found the teaching of Jesus more than they could stomach – “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?” (verse 60).

I remember once reading the verses about “eating my flesh and drinking my blood” at a communion service, only to be confronted at the end by a regular worshipper who seemed part-angry and part-puzzled. I think he thought I must have “gone Catholic”! Certainly, a little more explanation on my part might have helped (the meaning of certain Bible verses isn’t always immediately obvious). But Jesus doesn’t seem to have provided that in these verses; that comes in other parts of the New Testament. He seems content – or perhaps I should use the word “willing” – to let these people go.

It's hard not to have a certain respect for people who stop following Jesus because of genuine intellectual difficulties, however unnecessary they may be. But my impression is that such people are in quite a small minority of people who “fall away”, and I think we can only leave them in the hands of God, who knows every heart and always judges justly.

A second type of person who falls away from Christ can be found in the example of Demas who, says Paul, “has deserted me because he loved this world” (2 Timothy 4:10). Is this the same Demas as the one mentioned in Philemon 24? – if so, it gives us hope that he was eventually restored to his former position as companion to Paul. But we can’t be sure.

Whatever, we are reminded that following Jesus involves a serious choice, the choice to love Christ rather than the kingdoms of this world. And this is a challenge all of us must face up to, no matter how sincere we have been in our discipleship, or how long we have been followers of Jesus.

I suspect that the most common reason for falling away is exemplified in the parable of the sower (Matthew 13:1-23), where Jesus in effect warns us to expect it to happen in certain cases. He speaks of the seed that falls “on rocky ground”, representing “trouble or persecution” – people who start as enthusiastic followers of Jesus, but turn out in the longer term to be essentially rootless and to have no staying power; and of seed sown among thorns, people who are undone by “the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of riches” (verses 20-22).

The parable as a whole gathers up just about every possible reason why a man or woman might fall away - everything from a dramatic, headlong “fall from grace” (witness the various celebrity pastors, much loved by their congregations and greatly used by God, who end up in the headlines for all the wrong reasons), right through to a slow, steady process of what we might call spiritual atrophy, the tragic daily dying of a  once-vibrant faith. The devil is unlimited in his resources and methods.

Many people who fall away probably never make a decision to let that happen; it just, well, does. The pearl of great price somehow loses its lustre and its beauty. And so the warning Paul offers to the Christians of Corinth applies to every generation of Christian people: “So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall” (1 Corinthians 10:12).

A word for me? Certainly, yes. A word for you too?

A final warning…

As Jesus and the disciples watched their former companions drift away, Jesus asked a rather pathetic-seeming question: “You don’t want to leave too, do you?” And Simon Peter gave what I think is a wonderful reply: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life…” (verse 68).

Yes indeed! Who else will you go to! To Buddha? Or Mohammed? Or Karl Marx? Or Hare Krishna? Or simply to the world’s multiple false gods – the idols of success, earthly happiness, sex, indulgence, power, money, pleasure?

Of one thing we can be sure: the person who gives up on the one true God will, before long, be worshipping another - and it will be a god that is no god, a god who may seem to promise much but who in the end delivers nothing.

Hold on to Jesus as he holds on to you!

Father, I know my own weaknesses and frailties, my fickleness and proneness to wander. Please hold me firm, I pray, so that by your grace I may hold firm to you through thick and thin. Amen.

O to grace how great a debtor daily I’m constrained to be!/ Let that grace, Lord, like a fetter bind my wandering heart to Thee./ Prone to wander – Lord, I feel it – prone to leave the God I love;/ Here’s my heart, O take and seal it, seal it from Thy courts above. Amen!  Robert Robinson (1735-1790)

Count your blessings

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Colossians 3:15

Then one of them [a leper], when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet, and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan… Luke 17:15-16

We teach our children to say please and thank you. In time, hopefully, it becomes ingrained in them and they do it out of habit because they know it’s expected. But often, especially in the very early years, it can be a bit grudging: we’ve all seen a small child say thank you with quite a scowl on their face. Are we therefore teaching them to be hypocritical? Of course not – assuming that we teach them kindly and lovingly. We do it in the hope that as they grow and learn a bit about the world and about relationships it will become both natural and genuine.

The Bible has a lot to say about thankfulness. In Colossians 3:15 Paul encourages the members of the church in Colosse to “let the peace of God rule in your hearts”; and then adds, almost as a separate thought, “And be thankful”.

Have we, I wonder, learned to be thankful? After all, if we as Christians don’t have a spirit of thankfulness – of gratitude – who will? In the early church the very word for thanksgiving – eucharist - became the name by which what we today may call the Lord’s Supper, or Communion, or the Breaking of bread, or the Mass, was better known. In essence the receiving of bread and wine is an act of humble thanksgiving to God for the grace and kindness he has shown us in Christ. And that spirit of thankfulness should permeate our daily lives.

In 1897 an American called Johnson Oatman wrote a hymn that became famous enough throughout the world for me as a small boy to be singing it in a south London Sunday School fifty-plus years later. It began with words, “When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed…”, and each verse highlighted a different example of the hardships and troubles we might encounter in our Christian lives day by day. The message was simple: Even in the midst of these troubles there are things we should be thankful for, and so the chorus ran: “Count your blessings, name them one by one; /Count your blessings, see what God has done; /Count your blessings, name them one by one, /And it will surprise you what the Lord has done”.

Looking back now with adult eyes it seems a little glib, even corny. But the thought is surely right. To learn the habit of looking for the blessings we receive, in hard times and easy, is to build into our characters a very precious trait.

Sadly, not every adult learns it, even among Christian people.

The problem with many of us is that we take things for granted – we develop an attitude of “entitlement”: “Of course I expect good things to fall into my lap, so why should I bother to be thankful? It’s my right!”

But of course it isn’t – no more, at least, than it is the right of some unfortunate soul, perhaps in a desperately poor country, who barely has enough to eat each day - and it is arrogant and presumptuous of us to think otherwise. This is what gives rise to “spoiled brat syndrome”, the richly endowed person who, as soon as he or she doesn’t get their way, starts to “throw their toys out of the pram”.

I don’t know if the playwright G B Shaw had much sympathy with religion in general or Christianity in particular (though he did write a play called “Major Barbara” which, I believe, dealt sympathetically with a Salvation Army officer of that name). Shaw wrote this: “This is the true joy in life: being used for a purpose… being a force of nature, instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy”.

Ouch? I wonder if any of us answer to that description… a “feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances”?

Sometimes, if we honestly try to count our blessings, they may be hard to find; especially if we are passing through a time of serious difficulty. But even quite small things may be a blessing: a friendly neighbour greeting us in the street; a glimpse of a smile on the face of a baby; an unexpected contact from a long-forgotten friend; a particularly enjoyable meal; and one could go on. However seemingly small, such things are precious, and we should savour them.

In Luke 17 we read the story of the ten men with leprosy. Jesus healed them all, but to his obvious disappointment only one of them “returned to thank him”. “Where are the other nine?” Jesus wondered – and the one was a “foreigner” (a despised Samaritan, in fact).

The fact is that to develop a habit of thankfulness will make us both better people – humbler people - and happier people. More Christlike people. Have you noticed how people who might be like G B Shaw’s “little clod of ailments  and grievances” are rarely happy, generous or kind? Too busy fixated on themselves? It was said of Jesus that he “made himself nothing… and humbled himself” (Philippians 2). Yet he was, and is, the Lord of glory.

If that isn’t an example to follow, well, I really don’t know what is.

Loving Father, grant me a thankful, grateful and generous heart. Remove from me any hint of self-entitlement and teach me to be more focussed on making other people happy than thinking of myself. Amen.

Running on empty?

Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him. Psalm 62:5

Jesus said, Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. Matthew 11:28-30

The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to him all that they had done and taught. Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest”. Mark 6:30-31

There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God. Hebrews 4:9

“Yes, I’m pretty much running on empty”. So said a drained, exhausted fellow-pastor to me.

It’s a good image, isn’t it? My first car was an elderly Volkswagen Beetle, and I well remember that sinking feeling, when still a new driver, as the needle on the petrol gauge got closer and closer to the red zone, and the anxiety in my mind grew: Would I make it to a petrol-station? And what would I do if I didn’t (which is sometimes what happened)?

Of course, you don’t need to be a burned-out pastor to feel this way. You may be a worker with an over-demanding boss, or a parent with lively children, or a victim of unexpected and all-consuming circumstances. Indeed, you may be a church-member who has been carrying a responsibility, alongside your secular and family responsibilities, for longer than is wise.

Whatever, you need a rest!

I’ve put together a group of Bible verses with “rest” as their theme. Together, they can help us to look with confidence to God – the God who himself “rested from all his work” (Genesis 2:3) and who commanded his people to observe a weekly day of “sabbath-rest” (Exodus 20:8-11).

Psalm 62 begins with a word of testimony: “Truly my soul finds rest in God” (verse 1) – it seems he can look on this as a real experience in his life. But the thought is then repeated in verse 5 as a command to himself: “Yes… find rest in God”. Finding rest in God is clearly not a once-for-all thing.

The psalmist is going through a tough time: he sees himself as “this leaning wall, this tottering fence” (that’s quite a self-description!), as he suffers at the hands of his enemies; but he affirms his faith in God as his “rock, salvation and fortress” (verse 6).

 As we soak up those powerful words, may we also be able to affirm with him, “I shall not be shaken”.

Matthew 11:28-30 gives us one of the greatest, most comforting promises Jesus ever made, directly addressed to “all you who are weary and burdened”. He describes his “yoke” as “easy” and his ”burden” as “light”. That may seem a flat contradiction of his command elsewhere to “take up your cross and follow me” - the cross easy? the cross light!

But the background makes sense of it. Jesus has in mind the religion of the scribes and Pharisees, who saw their duty as being to pile heavy burdens on both themselves and others (Matthew 23:1-5). In comparison with that crushing kind of religiosity, the cross is indeed a privilege. So Jesus’ slightly surprising words warn us of the many types of present-day religion, whether Christian or otherwise, which boil down to duty-upon-duty, burden-upon-burden.

If we feel in need of rest today, let’s not be ashamed to unbuckle and throw off some of those burdens which we may originally have taken on with pleasure, but which have come to be more like a crippling weight. Let’s directly ask ourselves if we have lost the skill of enjoying our walk with Jesus and our relationship with God.

Mark 6: 30-31 is a delight: Jesus invites his disciples to take a break and enjoy a bit of peace and quiet: “Come with me to a quiet place and get some rest”. Beautiful!

But easier said than done, perhaps. What if our circumstances are sheer unremitting grind, from which no release is possible? – caring, perhaps, for a sick loved one, or coping with an obligation which, with the best will in the world, we simply cannot shrug off?

Under such circumstances, we can only cry out to God to supply our energy and needs on a day-by-day – indeed, on a minute-by-minute -  basis.

But Jesus’ invitation to his disciples is a reminder that his claims upon us are not a call to take leave of plain common sense: we need rest! we need relaxation! we need holidays! Martyrdom is, sadly, the lot of some; but let’s not martyr ourselves, perhaps out of a sense of spiritual pride or a false notion of needing to win favour with our Father God. The sabbath principle is intended as a gift for our enjoyment: well, let’s enjoy it then, insofar as we are able.

Seriously, Christian, is it time you took a break?

Hebrews 4:9 is a good rounding-off verse for this theme. Rest is apparently not a matter for this life only, for “there remains a sabbath-rest for the people of God”. The New Testament uses rest as a metaphor for heaven itself.

If we take the closing chapters of Revelation seriously, we see that it is anything but a lazing-around-doing-nothing kind of rest; on the contrary, it is all about delighting in God in all his holiness, all about perfection, joy and beauty, total fulfilment.

Some of us perhaps don’t find it easy to look forward to heaven, because we, the fortunate ones, find this earth quite enjoyable, thank you very much. But a day will come when that will change... And for the many whose way is specially hard – the over-burdened, those in pain or sorrow, the troubled and hurt, the victims of cruelty, injustice  or oppression – this is the hope to cling to.

Something better – infinitely better, indescribably better – awaits us. Hang on in there! Enjoy what rest you can, of course; but never doubt… it’s only a matter of time.

Father God, my loving Lord and my caring Shepherd, please help me to learn the art of finding rest in you. And hear my prayer today for all those for whom there seems to be no rest. Amen.

Th man with the withered hand

Another time Jesus went into the synagogue, and a man with a shrivelled hand was there. ² Some of them were looking for a reason to accuse Jesus, so they watched him closely to see if he would heal him on the Sabbath. ³ Jesus said to the man with the shrivelled hand, “Stand up in front of everyone.”

⁴ Then Jesus asked them, “Which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?” But they remained silent.

⁵ He looked around at them in anger and, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts, said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was completely restored. ⁶ Then the Pharisees went out and began to plot with the Herodians how they might kill Jesus. Mark 3:1-6

We talk a lot about the love of Jesus – and rightly so, of course. We talk less about his anger, for while it could be fierce it is not so central to his personality as his love. But there are times when it flashes out, and this incident of “the man with the withered hand” is a vivid example.

Matthew, Mark and Luke all give us the story, though in slightly varying forms, but it’s Mark in particular who draws attention to his anger. In verse 5 we read that he “looked at them (that’s the religious die-hards in the synagogue) in anger and, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts, said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand…’”. Whereupon he healed him.

I don’t think Jesus ever aimed to be aggressive or confrontational, but here it’s almost as if he is indeed looking for a show-down. Look at the sequence of events…

As he enters the synagogue that day he perhaps senses a “put-up job”: the man with the withered hand is “there”, in full view of the congregation… he is aware of being “closely watched” by his opponents, and he realises they want to make an issue about sabbath-observance (they’re “looking for a reason to accuse him”)… so he boldly asks the man to “stand up in front of everyone”. Picture the scene, and the hush that must have descended on the place.

And then Jesus asks his opponents a direct and very provocative question: “Which is lawful on the sabbath: to do good, or to do evil, to save life or to kill?” It’s as if he is saying: “I see you watching me! I know very well what you’re after! All right then, if it’s a confrontation you want, by all means lets have a confrontation!” And he puts them fairly and squarely on the spot.

There follows the most telling sentence in the story: “they remained silent”.

Well, of course they did! What could they say? Can you see them, looking at him with deep animosity, but knowing that they haven’t a leg to stand on? They can’t answer “To do evil”, because even they wouldn’t want that; they were no doubt good and devout men. But neither can they say, “To do good”, because that would give Jesus the green light to do a “work” which, in their understanding, would mean breaking the sabbath, something that was unthinkable.

Have you ever been struck dumb by someone who exposes your hypocrisy or dishonesty with an unanswerable remark? (Perhaps you were caught out in a lie.) If so, you’ll know how Jesus’ enemies felt that day. And if, like them, you were too stubborn to say frankly, “Yes, I’m sorry, you’re right, of course, and I must change my view”, you will know how humiliated they felt. But it doesn’t stop them burning for revenge: “they began to plot… how they might kill Jesus”. It only drives them deeper into sin.

The great tragedy of the story is that those people, in spite of being so exposed by Jesus’ words and actions, persisted in their stubborn refusal to accept the liberating truth he brought. It was that hardness of heart which ultimately led to the cross.

This is a word to all of us. To humble ourselves, to admit that we were wrong, to change our attitudes and ways, can certainly be humiliating. But, oh how liberating as well! No wonder Jesus spoke of yielding to him as being “born again”! A whole new life – clean, fresh, peaceful, joyful - begins. And it’s a life that never ends.

Is it time you came to kneel humbly at the foot of the cross?

A wonderful story. But wait a minute… haven’t we forgotten somebody? This isn’t just an account of an acrimonious debate about religious differences. Doesn’t somebody get healed in the midst of it? What about the man with the withered arm?

We don’t know his name or anything else about him. He says nothing; he does nothing except to stretch out that arm for healing. But he isn’t just a pawn being manipulated by powerful parties, by Jesus and his enemies. No; he is a man, a human being, with feelings, very likely a neighbour of many of the people in the synagogue that day: somebody’s son, somebody’s husband, somebody’s father. And for him life changed radically that day.

And so we are reminded that Jesus loved and was concerned for the ordinary people, the non-entities, men, women and children, those who have no voice, no power, no influence – and those over whose heads debates about the sabbath day and many other high-sounding things floated unnoticed.

We have seen that Jesus is explicitly said by Mark to be “angry” with his opponents. It’s worth reflecting on the fact that such a thing is never said by Matthew, Mark or Luke about people like that unknown man – the man with the withered arm. No. For them he has nothing but compassion and a desire to show them the perfect love of God. Isn’t that exactly why the gospel is “good news”?

Father, thank you for the tender love of Jesus for even the most ordinary of people. Please give me grace and wisdom never to fall out with fellow-believers unless it is over something really important – always to focus on his tender compassion. Amen. 

A tiny story with massive repercussions (2

Soon afterwards, Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went along with him. As he approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out—the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the town was with her. When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, “Don’t cry.”

Then he went up and touched the bier they were carrying him on, and the bearers stood still. He said, “Young man, I say to you, get up!” The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother.

They were all filled with awe and praised God. “A great prophet has appeared among us,” they said. “God has come to help his people.” This news about Jesus spread throughout Judea and the surrounding country. Luke 7:11-17

Last time I highlighted three things that, to me, make this remarkable miracle story so extremely attractive – first, it’s told in such a low-key, matter-of-fact way, just Jesus doing the kind of thing Jesus did, no fuss, no bother; second, it’s essentially all about his compassion, even more than his power, helping us to see where our priorities should lie; and third, it shows him putting human need before religious duty by his willingness to make contact with the dead. Worthwhile lessons, all.

But there’s something else too. It’s unusual among the Gospel miracle stories in that Jesus acted without first seeking, or finding, faith in the person on the receiving end.

Think of the other two stories of raisings from the dead. They are very different.

In Luke 8:40-56 we read about Jairus’ daughter. Her father comes to Jesus pleading that he would heal the girl, who at that point is still alive. But later messengers come with the news that she has in fact died, and there is no reason to doubt that this is the case. Jesus comes as requested and speaks the simple word, “My child, get up!” Which she immediately does.

In this case Jesus had encouraged Jairus: “Don’t be afraid ; just believe, and she will be healed”. Would he have performed the miracle if Jairus had faltered in faith? We don’t know, though I like to think so. But as so often with his miracles, faith is key.

Likewise with Lazarus (John 11). His two sisters, Martha and Mary, are distraught at his death – and puzzled and hurt that Jesus didn’t come more quickly. But he makes it clear that this is a test of their faith; he does come, and proceeds to call Lazarus – entombed, remember, “for four days”! – back from death: “Lazarus, come out!” Imagine the agonising tension of that moment before “the dead man came out”, the breath-taking moment as he appeared standing, perhaps blinking, at the mouth of the tomb. The sisters’ faith was anything but rock solid – but Jesus responded to it nonetheless.

But… regarding the widow of Nain, faith is not so much as mentioned.

All she was expecting that day was, sadly, to say farewell to her son, on whom she was completely dependent. Yet Jesus appeared out of the blue, and, unbidden, acted powerfully and positively on her behalf. He made no demands of her, indeed, as far as we know, didn’t even speak to her; it was her dead son that he spoke to!

I don’t think we need doubt that the time for words - for preaching - would come soon enough, once the dust had settled, so to speak. No doubt Jesus would enter Nain and proclaim the good news of the coming of God’s kingdom to exceptionally large crowds.

But… the deed preceded the words; the act preceded the preaching.

This surely is a principle that applies to us today. Putting it another way: we have no right to preach the message of the gospel unless our lives first demonstrate that the love of God is with us and in us in practical ways. And even if the opportunity to share the gospel in words doesn’t arise, we must never forget that good things are there to be done simply because – well, they are good things. Isn’t that enough? A Christlike act is never wasted, though we may never see what it eventually leads to; and what it eventually leads to – well, that’s God’s business, not ours.

Reading between the lines, I speculate that the widow of Nain had never encountered Jesus before that momentous day; perhaps Nain was a bit of a backwater, and this planned visit was his first. If that is right, perhaps she can stand for us today as an example of “those who have never heard”.

Even though the Christian faith has spread world-wide, there are many millions who have never yet heard the gospel, people to whom the name of Jesus is simply not known. They have never put their faith in Jesus – but then how can they be expected to if they have never heard of him?

Those who have heard the gospel, and have hardened their hearts against it… well, that’s a different matter altogether. But should we be surprised that Jesus here showed such love to one of “the lost sheep of the house of Israel”? – that “his heart went out to her and he said ‘Don’t cry’”?

The point is this: faith is not a condition we must fulfil in order to enter the kingdom of God. To treat is as such is to turn the gospel into a threat: “If you don’t have faith you can’t be saved”. No! It’s a word of glad and loving invitation: “You want to be saved? Wonderful! Just believe…!”

Reading the story of the widow of Nain irresistibly calls to my mind the words of Charles Wesley’s hymn “Love diving, all loves excelling”: “Jesus, thou art all compassion,/ Pure, unbounded love thou art;/ Visit us with thy salvation,/ Enter every trembling heart”.

Isn’t that exactly what he did for that woman that long-ago day? And isn’t it exactly what he will do too for you and me if we will only invite him?

Father, as we have received the never-ending compassion of Jesus in our own lives, so help us to bounce it off to others, friends or strangers, Christians or unbelievers, saints or sinners, simply because it’s a good thing to do, and to leave the consequences safely in your hands. Amen.

A tiny story with massive repercussions

Soon afterwards, Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went along with him. As he approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out—the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the town was with her. When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, “Don’t cry.”

Then he went up and touched the bier they were carrying him on, and the bearers stood still. He said, “Young man, I say to you, get up!” The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother.

They were all filled with awe and praised God. “A great prophet has appeared among us,” they said. “God has come to help his people.” This news about Jesus spread throughout Judea and the surrounding country. Luke 7:11-17

What a truly wonderful story this is!

When the Russian writer Leo Tolstoy wrote his most famous book War and Peace it took him well over half a million words. Here Luke tells the story of the widow of Nain’s son in little more than one hundred.

So? Well, it’s of no real significance, of course; I’m sure there’s a place for big long books. But it reminds us that words used very economically can muster a real, even life-changing, power. I read War and Peace many, many years ago – and I remember very little about it. But this little story has stayed with me all my adult life and made an impact on me and the kind of person I aim to be.

Jesus and his disciples are heading for a small town called Nain, probably the place known today as Nein, just a few miles from Nazareth. He seems to have picked up “a large crowd” along the way, only to find that they are on a collision course with another crowd coming out of the town gate and heading for the near-by burial ground. It seems that the whole town is turning out to offer support to a woman who, having already suffered the sorrow of losing her husband, is now having to come to terms with the death of her only son.

Jesus and his followers, it seems, “yield right of way”, no doubt out of respect. But Jesus finds it impossible to remain simply a spectator: “he went up and touched the bier (the open coffin)… and said ‘Young man, I tell you, get up!’” And that is exactly what he did – “and began to talk”. I wonder what he said? I like to imagine something like, “Hallo, Mum! What’s going on? Who are all these people, and why are they all crying? And who is this man who’s just woken me up? I was having a wonderful dream…!” But Luke doesn’t see fit to tell us.

Jesus, we’re told, “gave him back to his mother”, just like Elijah with the widow of Zarephath (1 Kings 17:23), and the crowd declare that another “great prophet” has appeared among them. What a day! What an event!

What makes this little story so irresistibly attractive? Here are three things that occur to me…

First, it’s all so low-key.

A momentous miracle is done, but there is no blaring of trumpets or parading of power on Jesus’ part. I suspect that when he set out that morning with his disciples he had no idea that such a thing was going to happen; perhaps he had never preached at Nain before, and simply decided that it was time he did.

But once the set of circumstances had arisen he responded in a spontaneous, indeed an almost matter-of-fact way, and his heavenly Father used him.

Is there a word for us there? When a new day begins the prospect may look pretty ordinary, perhaps quite drab and even unwelcoming, just something to be got through. Perhaps we need to summon the simple faith to believe that, so to speak, God can turn our dull grey to beautiful colour – as long as we are then alert to fresh possibilities as the day unfolds. Who knows what God might have up his sleeve?

Second, it’s all about compassion.

Certainly, this is an incident when the sheer power of Jesus is displayed; but Luke’s emphasis seems to fall more on his overflowing compassion. He tells us that when Jesus saw the widow “his heart went out to her”, using a word which suggests a wrenching of his gut, a powerful moving of his inmost being. Jesus could be a deeply emotional man; we must never forget that on occasions he “wept”.

A song that has become a favourite of mine in recent years is “Soften my heart, Lord, soften my heart…” by Graham Kendrick. If you don’t know it, and especially if you feel your heart to be a little cold and unfeeling, I recommend that you turn it into a personal prayer. In it we pray to “feel Christ’s compassion” – and is there anything greater than that that we can pray for?

Third, it shows Jesus focussed on what really mattered.

Why does Luke bother to tell us that Jesus “touched the bier”? Answer: presumably because, strictly speaking, that was something he shouldn’t have done as an obedient Jew. Contact with the dead would render a person ceremonially “unclean” (see, for example, Numbers 19). Certainly, an unclean person could be cleansed by obeying certain rituals laid down by the priest; but it was something to avoid if at all possible. I can’t help wondering if a suppressed gasp of shock went up from the crowd that day in Nain when Jesus touched the bier.

By taking this action Jesus made the point that the priest and the Levite in the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) failed to recognise: fearful of becoming unclean they “passed by on the other side” when they saw what they took to be a corpse. But Jesus, through the example of the Samaritan, makes clear that the claims of compassion take precedence over any kind of legalistic requirements.

Is this a reminder for some of us? Have we turned our loyalty to Jesus into an essentially rules-based religion? If so, have we lost our true focus? Is it time for some serious self-examination?

I think there is more to be gleaned from this story, but I have run out of space. Pease join me again next time.

Soften my heart, Lord, /Soften my heart. /From all indifference, set me apart; /To feel your compassion, to weep with your tears./Come, soften my heart, Lord,/ Soften my heart. Amen.

 Graham Kendrick.