God's all-seeing eye

The eyes of the Lord are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good. Proverbs 15:3

I used to visit a home where, the first thing you saw when you went in the front door, was a plaque on the wall: “Christ is the head of this house: the unseen guest at every meal; the silent listener to every conversation” - as if Jesus was some kind of ghostly presence, lurking in shadowy places, quite unlike the Jesus we meet in the Gospels.

I was only a child at the time, but I used find this – well, it would be too much to say spooky, but certainly slightly unsettling. When, later, I read George Orwell’s novel Nineteen eighty-four, with its frightening slogan “Big Brother is watching you”, I couldn’t help but be reminded… And the same thing applied when I first read Proverbs 15:3 and other similar Bible verses.

God’s “all-knowingness”, known technically as his “omniscience”, has been part of the church’s faith since the beginning. A simple question arises: Are verses like Proverbs 15:3 good news or bad? to be welcomed or frightened by?

Well, a lot depends, of course, on where (as they say) “you’re at” in your life.

If I’m living a life of conscious, knowing disobedience to God, then certainly there’s a lot to be troubled by. “It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God”, we read in Hebrews10:31, reminding us that God is far from being a kind of all-indulgent grand-father-in-the-sky. He is burningly holy, perfect in every respect, and ultimately our judge. Our verse makes clear that he ”keeps watch on the wicked” as well as on the good.

So it sounds as if Proverbs 15:3 is really not good news at all, not, that is, for the wicked. And yet can we not see even that in another way: may those words not also be a generous warning? The Bible tells us that “God is not willing that anyone should perish, but that everyone should come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). He wants us to become sensitive to the reality of our sin, so that we have opportunity to turn around and make a fresh start – what Jesus called “being born again”, in fact. And if passages like Proverbs 15:3 shake us out of our carelessness and sin, shouldn’t we be thankful for them?

God loves sinners. How easily we forget that greatest of all truths! I remember the first time somebody pointed out to me (I had somehow simply never noticed it before) that while Jesus could, and did, display quite ferocious anger, it was always with those who he felt were misleading the people, the religious leaders, and never (literally never, according to all four Gospels) with the “ordinary people” themselves.

Think of Jesus’ meeting with the Samaritan woman at the well. He saw right through her; he knew her life was one dominated by sin. Surely a fierce blast of condemnation would have been appropriate? But no: he treated her with patience and compassion.

And what about those large crowds that flocked to hear him? They will have had their quota of liars and thieves, of cheats and adulterers, won’t they? Yet what do we read about Jesus’ feelings for them? Here is one of the most beautiful verses in the New Testament: “When he saw  the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Mathew 9:36). Sinners, yes, like all of us; but loved by Jesus.

So even for the worst of sinners Proverbs 15:3 can be seen as good news: God loves us enough to sound a serious warning: the question is, Am I wise and humble enough to change?

We should add too that many of those who were out of step with God were like that largely because they had never been taught. They weren’t, as I put it earlier, “living a life of conscious, knowing disobedience to God”, they were simply ignorant, “like sheep without a shepherd”: they were lost souls. How things stand with the untold millions who are like that today we can only guess. But we know that God is not only a holy, judging God, but also a merciful God. (The tricky passage Romans 2:12-16 throws some light on this.)

I’ve focussed on the fact that God “keeps watch on the wicked”, possibly bad news, possibly good, depending on how we respond.

But of course the other part of Proverbs 15:3 is nothing but good news: he also “keeps watch on the good”. Those who are in a relationship of love, faith and obedience with God can be assured that his eyes are on them every moment of day or night, whatever their circumstances may be. It may not always feel like that, especially at times of sickness, sorrow and other forms of suffering. But that is where we have to muster our childlike faith and commit ourselves into the hands of our loving heavenly Father.

In our worst times we may be inclined to doubt, even to be bitter: “If God sees what I’m going through, then why doesn’t he do something?” To which, of course, there is no simple answer: we simply don’t know the mind and purposes of God. But we cling on, fortified by the solid faith of someone like Paul (who knew a lot about suffering): “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18).

Yes, those can sound like easy, shallow words. At times like that, may God help us to see with new clarity the reality of Jesus’ horrifying death on the cross – and the glory of his rising again.

Remember, Christian… “What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived – the things that God has prepared for those who love him – these are the things God has revealed to us by his Spirit” (1 Corinthians 2:9).

Lord, thank you for the assurance that even in the worst times of my life, your loving, fatherly eye is upon me, and give me faith to believe that you have in store for me wonders beyond imagining. Amen.

Good out of bad

Before I was afflicted I went astray… but it was good that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes. Psalm 119:68-71

Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children… Hebrews 12:7.

O the joy of being laid low!

Those are the words I would like to have started this message with. But alas, they would have been the words of a hypocrite. Why? – because I have recently been laid low, and I’m afraid it’s been anything but a joyful experience, however much I aim to trust in God.

I’ve had a couple of quite nasty falls, followed by an unpleasant couple of nights in hospital. Now my back is extremely painful and I can barely move. Further doctor’s visits are ahead. O poor little me!

This is where a lifetime of reading the Bible, even when you may not experience a particular blessing at the time, makes a difference. As I tried to adjust to my new situation, a couple of scripture verses emerged from the mists of memory, linked to the idea of “affliction”.

In Psalm 119:68 the psalmist tells us that “before I was afflicted I went astray”; then in verse 71 he follows that up in positive mode with “it was good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes”. All right, that’s not exactly being joyful, but he is certainly seeing things in a new light, the light of faith and trust in God. That challenged me.

When the psalmist talks about “learning God’s statutes” I don’t think he means taking a refresher course in the ten commandments or some other part of Old Testament law; it’s more like an umbrella term for “the way God does things”. Whatever, that was the way it seemed to apply to me. So, what are some of the things I have been learning during this decidedly unwelcome experience?

 

First, the wonderful nature of the church.

 

Of course, the Christian church is anything but perfect, and the local churches to which we belong often seem, well, ordinary at best. But never mind! I have been almost overwhelmed by the avalanche of support and kindness, both starkly practical (hey, where did those grab-rails in the bathroom appear from, or that walking-aid?) and more strictly “spiritual”. Assurances of prayer and offers of help, plus little gifts and messages from near and far, from friends new and old, have made me aware of how adrift we would all be without the people of God. The person who says “I believe in Jesus, but I don’t need the church” is in fact tragically out of step with Jesus. Did he found the church for fun? for us just to stand outside it and criticise?

 

Second, a deeper understanding of marriage.

 

Nina and I have been married for over forty years – not perfect years, of course; but we are learning in a new way the deep meaning of those serious, serious words in the marriage service, “for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health”. (Nina has always been, quite simply, wonderful beyond words, and at no time has she proved that more than over the last couple of weeks.)

 

I am aware that there will be some reading this who have lost, or never had, a husband or wife to share your troubles with, for reading this can only cause pain, and I regret that. But I cannot help but testify to the rich, practical wisdom contained in the Christian ideal of marriage. I can only encourage us, whatever our “situation in life” may be, to unashamedly uphold that principle in a world that is tragically scrabbling around to invent some new kind of sexual morality: where marriage itself seems little more than a joke, and “till death parts us” simply laughable. Can they not see that only new and more complex ways of being miserable are being concocted?

 

Third, a strong sense of the providence of God in what has happened.

 

For those who trust in God there is no such thing as mere “coincidence”. And so it has seemed to us this last couple of weeks.

 

Shortly before our “affliction” began our son Mark arrived home unexpectedly from a teaching adventure in Japan. Temporarily homeless, we gladly took him in, of course – not having the remotest idea of how helpful, both practically and psychologically, his presence with us would prove. What would we have done without him! (Not yet being a believer, I suspect that he would find the idea of being a “godsend” to his parents a bit hard to take – but, well, I’m afraid that’s just tough, Mark!)

 

There’s far more I could say, but space is running out, so let me just add two little comments that seem relevant.

 

First, while so much of the love we have received has come from Christians, it’s only right too to recognise the help we have received from those who are not, as far as we are aware, believers. I mention this to help safeguard us from the arrogance of imagining that we Christians have a monopoly on goodness. Don’t our non-Christian neighbours and  friends sometimes put us to shame? (Never forget who invented the character of the good Samaritan…!)

 

Second, in the last few days I have found myself thinking more than ever about the stark reality of pain, not least sheer physical pain, and how protected from it many of us have been throughout our lives. How shallowly I have read, say, missionary reports of Christians (and others) subjected to infinitely greater and crueller afflictions than I can even imagine. For them it is a normal reality of everyday life – and often with no end in sight in this earthly life. O Lord, forgive my wimpish self-pity!

 

During these recent days Nina and I seem to have received almost daily news of new troubles afflicting many, such as people falling sick, sometimes just small children, thus putting serious strain on whole families. Lord, help me to be truly grateful for the easy ride I have had over my 78 years!

 

Lord God, you invite us to call you Father, who only allows troubles in our lives in order to test and strengthen us. Please forgive my tendency to self-pity; please help me to stand the test. And please give me Jesus’ heart of compassion for the many millions of men and women and boys and girls whose troubles are so much greater than my own. Amen.

Too good to be true? (2)

 

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—

    where does my help come from?
² My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

³ He will not let your foot slip—
    he who watches over you will not slumber;
⁴ indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The Lord watches over you—
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
⁶ the sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

⁷ The Lord will keep you from all harm—
    he will watch over your life;
⁸ the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore. Psalm 121

The big question last time, looking at this beautiful Psalm 121, was: Is it too good to be true? Do the words “The Lord will keep you from all harm” promise more than they deliver; are they just empty words? We must be realistic and recognise that many non-Christians would be likely to smile cynically and dismiss it out of hand: “Pie in the sky…”

I want to suggest three things we need to do to answer this kind of objection…

First, gladly recognise that the poetry of the psalms is full of language that is figurative, that is, non-literal.

We know for a fact that even the most spiritually-minded child of God may sometimes have “a foot that slips”, even to the point of breaking bones, and is not always “kept from all harm” (just the opposite, in fact!). While the psalmist obviously expects wonderful things for God’s people in this life, he deliberately uses exaggerated language to make his point. And, more to the point, his readers will be perfectly aware that he is doing this.

This is a figure of speech called “hyperbole”, which is basically “exaggeration which everyone recognises as such”, and so is not deceived by. And it’s not just in the psalms; it was written of Saul and Jonathan, for example, that “They were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions” (2 Samuel 1:23), and I don’t think anyone will have protested “Oh, don’t be ridiculous - that’s impossible!”, though literally speaking that’s the case.

Non-literal language is so much part and parcel of the way we speak and write that usually we simply don’t take any notice it, or if we do we’re in no doubt that it’s not be taken at face value. We had a friend who, if you asked him if he would like a drink, was likely to say, “Oh yes please – I could murder a cup of coffee!” We would just smile sweetly and say “That’s John!” And who has never put down a heavy bag and exclaimed “That weighs a ton!”

The point is that such non-literal language is widely used in the Bible, especially, but not exclusively, in the poetic books. Didn’t Jesus say that “faith like a grain of mustard-seed can move mountains” (Matthew 17:20), which was his picturesque way of saying that by faith even things that seem impossible can be changed? Didn’t he say that just as a camel cannot go through the eye of a needle, no more can a rich person enter the kingdom of God (Matthew 19:24)? To take such arresting figures of speech as literally true borders on the ludicrous: their truth (and they are true!) lies in a completely different direction. Jesus was a teacher of truth – and he knew how to make an impact.

(I remember a poem about a highwayman I learned at school – all mysterious and slightly spooky – which contained the line “The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas”. Utter nonsense? Certainly, if you insist on taking it literally. But I knew exactly what it meant; and it has lodged in my memory for a whole life-time – much better than if it had said “the moon looked like an abandoned ship being tossed about on the clouds”. A good example of the richness of human language.

Another example: Are the Narnia stories true? Of course not! – they are about fawns and elves and a witch and a rather wonderful lion. And yet… they are true, aren’t they? C S Lewis made up this fantasy world to teach the truth about Jesus.)

Enough! We’ve come a long way from Psalm 121! But I hope it makes the point clear. The world of writing swarms with non-literal language, and that includes the Bible, but it serves the purpose of making the truth interesting and arresting, of emphasising things that might otherwise be missed or glossed over.

The second thing we must do is to bear in mind that the Bible is a very big book, and that we need to take it as a whole in order to get anything like a full picture, and not just pluck out individual verses or short passages. If Psalm 121 is indeed too good to be true I suggest we take a look at the grim and unrelenting Psalm 88: “I am overwhelmed with trouble … I have borne your terrors and am in despair… darkness is my closest friend”. Yes, that’s in the Bible too!

Indeed, I suggest we take a good, long look at the crucifixion and digest the terrible words of the dying Jesus: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me…?” Personally, I don’t think Psalm 121, properly understood, needs any kind of corrective – but if it does, where better (or should I say worse?) to look?

Third, and most important of all, we must remember that the Bible takes  us on a story, and that story is – well, we don’t know how near the end.

It  takes us from the Garden of Eden, through the fall into sin, the founding of Israel, the people chosen by God to make his name known, through the captivity in Babylon and the subjection to the Roman empire, to the ministry of Jesus, his death and resurrection and the coming in power of the Holy Spirit… and which will reach its climax in the new, heavenly Jerusalem where (wait for this) God “will wipe every tear from their eyes and there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain…” This, and nothing less, is the hope and expectation of those who have looked to Jesus for forgiveness and salvation.

And when that day comes, the glory will be so wonderful that passages like Psalm 121, beautiful though they are, will seem like nothing!

Father, thank you for passages like Psalm 121. Thank you for the promises of a sin-free world and fulness of life for everyone who puts their trust in the risen Christ. But thank you too for the realistic focus on sin, death and pain. Please help me to blend these twin realities as I seek to make the victory of Christ known. Amen.

Too good to be true?

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—

    where does my help come from?
² My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

³ He will not let your foot slip—
    he who watches over you will not slumber;
⁴ indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The Lord watches over you—
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
⁶ the sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

⁷ The Lord will keep you from all harm—
    he will watch over your life;
⁸ the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore. Psalm 121

Last time I reflected on the sheer misery of Psalm 120, the psalm of a man who feels that he is in an alien land, a barbaric land, a land of lies and violence, and how he “calls on the Lord in my distress”. It’s a sheer delight, then, to move on to Psalm 121, for this is totally different, all about assurance and confidence. The basic message is as simple as could be: the man or woman of God is safe in his loving arms, whatever life may throw at them.

Two main thoughts strike me about the psalm as a whole…

First, it is in essence a simple statement of faith in God: “My help comes from the Lord”.

Very likely the writer is a worshipper on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and as he approaches the holy city he is awe-struck by the mountains around the city. (I wonder if he is the same person as the one who wrote Psalm 125, just a little further on: “As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people both now and for evermore”?)

To the people of Israel mountains could be a reason for fear: they might be the place of false gods, where people who were disobedient to the one true God would set up their altars, their pagan “high places”; and they were certainly places where there was the danger of attack from brigands, especially if you were travelling alone. Their very remoteness might make you a little nervous.

But to the psalmist, a man of faith, they speak of the power and majesty of almighty God, and the fact that he is both the awesome creator of all things and also the loving protector of his own people. Going back again to Psalm 125:2: “As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people, both now and for evermore”. No less than six times in Psalm 121 (and it’s only eight verses) do the words “watch over you” and “keep you” occur. He obviously enjoys dwelling on this wonderfully reassuring theme.

But this is where the second thought strikes me, and it takes the form of a question: does he in fact promise more than he can deliver?

In verse 3, we are told that God “will not let your foot slip”. In verse 5, that he will ensure that “the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night” (whatever that may mean). In verse 7, that “the Lord will keep you from all harm”, that “he will watch over your life”, that he will “watch over your coming and going both now and for ever more”.

At face value this seems to suggest that the child of God is guaranteed a happy and trouble-free life. No stumbles, broken bones or grazed elbows; no sunstroke or skin cancers; no “harm” in any area of life; clear leading and guidance every minute of every day. Wonderful!

But isn’t it too good to be true? We slightly shake our heads and say “But life just isn’t like that!”

I read some years ago about a Christian organisation that planned a “healing mission” in a place where Jesus was virtually unknown. Such was the zeal of the people running it that they advertised it with glowing promises: “Come and be healed!” they proclaimed on posters and leaflets, and people from far and wide dug into what small savings they had, even selling precious farm animals they could never replace, in order to get there. But the hype, even if sincere, was way “over the top”: and the “results”… non-existent. All that was left behind was a legacy of bitterness, anger and confusion as the would-be “healers” were run out of town.

(Before we rush to condemn and shake our heads let’s call to mind the times we too may have brought the church and the name of Jesus into disrepute, with genuine but misguided zeal.)

Once you focus on this reality of the Bible, you’re bound to ask how we should explain it, especially to sceptical non-Christians who use it as an excuse to reject Christianity: “Oh, your faith is just pie in the sky when you die! It isn’t in touch with the harsh realities of life”. I’ll suggest three possible answers we can give, but as I’m running out of space I’ll give them as headings now so that then if you’re interested you can come back next time for a fuller explanation.

First… we need to recognise that poetic verse, both in the Bible and otherwise, depends very much on non-literal language. This is particularly true of the psalms, the proverbs, the prophetic books and, of course, the “vision” books such as Daniel and Revelation. This is something we needn’t be embarrassed about or ashamed of. Christians who insist that all Bible truth is literal truth very soon get into a tangle.

Second, we need to remember that the Bible is a very big and varied book – or, to put it more correctly, collection of books. This means that we make a big mistake if we pluck any particular verse or passage out of context (such as “he will not let your foot slip” or “he will keep you from all harm”) and treat it a universal truth in any and every situation. Scripture needs to be balanced with scripture.

Third, and most important, all such passages in their different ways are pointing towards a day when all sorrow and pain will be once for all banished, when God will “wipe every tear from our eyes”, and even death “will be no more” (Revelation 21:4).

When that day comes, I don’t think anybody will be talking about “too good to be true” any more!

Father, help me to be an honest reader of your word, honest when I simply don’t understand it, honest when it seems to contradict reality, and grant that by the work of your Holy Spirit I will be enabled to grasp the deep and life-changing truths of Jesus. Amen.

Far, far from home

I call on the Lord in my distress,

    and he answers me.
² Save me, Lord,
    from lying lips
    and from deceitful tongues.

³ What will he do to you,
    and what more besides,
    you deceitful tongue?
⁴ He will punish you with a warrior’s sharp arrows,
    with burning coals of the broom bush.

⁵ Woe to me that I dwell in Meshek,
    that I live among the tents of Kedar!
⁶ Too long have I lived
    among those who hate peace.
⁷ I am for peace;
    but when I speak, they are for war. Psalm 120

Just recently I have read my way through Psalm 119, all 176 verses of it. I have taken it in the bite-size chunks the Bible divides it into, day by day, and found many good and challenging things in it, especially regarding the Bible as God’s “law” or “commands” or “precepts”. But I won’t deny that I was glad to come to the end. I found myself feeding on two quite tiny psalms.

What struck me in particular was the sharp contrast in mood between Psalm 120, which I have put above, and Psalm 121…

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
² My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

³ He will not let your foot slip—
    he who watches over you will not slumber;
⁴ indeed, he who watches over Israel
    will neither slumber nor sleep.

⁵ The Lord watches over you—
    the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
⁶ the sun will not harm you by day,
    nor the moon by night.

⁷ The Lord will keep you from all harm—
    he will watch over your life;
⁸ the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore. Psalm 121

Surely, from the depths to the heights!

In Psalm 120 the psalmist, while still praying to God (“I call on the Lord in my distress”), and while still experiencing something of his presence (“and he answers me”), is in a pretty bleak mood.

His problem? He feels out of place - alienated, to use the modern word.

The commentaries don’t tell us much about Meshech and Kedar, but it seems they were places where there was an atmosphere of, first, lies and, second, warlikeness – and both were a long way from the holy city of Jerusalem. It seems almost as if the writer feels he has become too accustomed to this atmosphere, and has just woken up exclaiming “What am I doing here? I don’t belong here!” He is far, far from home, in more ways than one.

What led him to live in Meshech and Kedar we aren’t told: sinful, disobedient decisions? or circumstances over which he had no control? Whatever, he is deeply miserable, and draws his psalm to an end with a plaintive, almost self-pitying, note: “I am for peace; but when I speak, they are for war”.

Such alienation is something I know very little of: little more than homesickness the first time I ever travelled alone. But probably most of us do know the sheer loneliness of, perhaps, a first night at college or adjusting to a new home: it was all so strange!

As a student I spent a few weeks working on a kibbutz (a communal village in Galilee) and messages from home were more precious than I could have imagined. One day, out in the banana groves, somebody told me that there was an air-mail letter for me back at the centre. Oh joy! It was an agony to have to wait till my shift ended. But when I got back I found that the letter had disappeared, and I don’t think it ever came to light. I am not a person easily moved to tears, but on that occasion I was suddenly like a heart-broken child: life seemed so cruel. I was so far from home.

Three things from Psalm 120 seem applicable to such circumstances…

First, as Christians we are people of the truth: falsehood should be utterly alien to us. Jesus spoke of himself as “the way, the truth and the life”. He spoke of the devil – no less! – as “a liar and the father of lies”.

But like the psalmist we live in a world of “lying lips and deceitful tongues” (verse 2) – of “fake news” and the casual acceptance of lies as part and parcel of everyday life (in published surveys the majority of people seemed quite surprised at the very suggestion that lies are necessarily wrong). We don’t want to be holier-than-thou-honest, of course not. But simply – well, straight, the kind of men and women that other people can instinctively trust.

Second, as Christians we are people of peace. Again, the Bible speaks of Jesus as “the prince of peace” – have we ever sat down to think seriously about that wonderful title?

In our world of conflict, hatred, jealousy, anger, killing, just quoting those words doesn’t solve all the problems, of course, neither the practical ones nor the moral ones: some Christians, for example, are out-and-out pacifists while others think, albeit with sadness, that there is a place for “just war”. But to persevere in prayer for peace, and for political leaders who will struggle with integrity to find a way to bring it about – that, surely, should be high on our prayer lists, both in our private prayers and in the context of worship. Christianity is about more than individual, personal salvation.

Third, as Christians we are people of compassion.

It’s hard, in our present climate, to think about peace and truth without thinking of certain victims of lies and war: in a word, of migrants. In Britain those people risking their lives in open boats to get here, and penned up in hostels where temptations to violence, sexual wrongdoing and idleness are all around – they stir up furious, hate-filled reactions from many of us who feel that “our” space is being threatened. This animosity is understandable, but we need to remember the tragic backgrounds from which many of these “invaders” come.

“What can I do?” we may ask. To which “Not a lot” may be the honest answer. But we can and must persevere in prayer, not least for wise and principled politicians who will struggle to find a just solution. And to pray even for those who seem to threaten us – that, surely, is a Christlike thing to do.

Yes, the person who wrote Psalm 120 is in a state of real distress. But still he “calls on the Lord”. May we do the same until the day comes when we can say “he has answered me” – and find ourselves out of the gloom of Psalm 120 and into the blue skies of Psalm 121.

Back for that next time!

Father, I pray for all the lonely and far from home, for the victims of warfare and injustice, for those whose hearts are breaking. Give me the gift of Christ-like compassion and an understanding of how to make it known in whatever ways I can, and the faith to believe in that day when “the earth shall be filled with glory of God as the waters cover the sea”. Give me eyes open to see – really see - the visitor and stranger. Amen.

Snapshots of the early church (2)

3 We landed at Tyre, where our ship was to unload its cargo. 4 We sought out the disciples there and stayed with them seven days. Through the Spirit they urged Paul not to go on to Jerusalem. 5 When it was time to leave, we left and continued on our way. All of them, including wives and children, accompanied us out of the city, and there on the beach we knelt to pray. 6 After saying goodbye to each other, we went aboard the ship, and they returned home.

7 We continued our voyage from Tyre and landed at Ptolemais, where we greeted the brothers and sisters and stayed with them for a day. 8 Leaving the next day, we reached Caesarea and stayed at the house of Philip the evangelist, one of the Seven. 9 He had four unmarried daughters who prophesied.

10 After we had been there a number of days, a prophet named Agabus came down from Judea. 11 Coming over to us, he took Paul’s belt, tied his own hands and feet with it and said, “The Holy Spirit says, ‘In this way the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem will bind the owner of this belt and will hand him over to the Gentiles.’”

12 When we heard this, we and the people there pleaded with Paul not to go up to Jerusalem. 13 Then Paul answered, “Why are you weeping and breaking my heart? I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus.” 14 When he would not be dissuaded, we gave up and said, “The Lord’s will be done.”

15After this, we started on our way up to Jerusalem. 16 Some of the disciples from Caesarea accompanied us and brought us to the home of Mnason, where we were to stay. He was a man from Cyprus and one of the early disciples.

Acts 21:3-16

We have been following Paul’s journey to Jerusalem, along with his party of friends and supporters, and last time I picked on two “snapshots of the early church” from this passage. The first was simply the touching love which Paul and the people he met with demonstrated for one another as they moved from place to place. Whatever else the church may be today, it was then a community of sacrificial, Christlike love. May ours be the same!

The second was the gift of prophecy, which played a big part in the early church. We were introduced to the four unmarried daughters of Philip the evangelist, “who prophesied”. I suggested that in our view of prophecy we need to be carefully balanced – don’t dismiss it out of hand, for that might mean we are “quenching the Holy Spirit”; but at the same time don’t swallow it hook line and sinker, for that could lead to wild Corinth-style disorderliness.

But Acts 21 prompts further thoughts regarding prophecy, so let’s return to that topic today.

First, it makes us aware of the importance of female voices in the early church.

Apart from verse 9 we know nothing about these four women. What form did their prophetic gifts take? Did they exercise their gift in the church when it was gathered, or only in the privacy of their home? Frustratingly, Acts doesn’t tell us, so it’s not for us to know.

But we do know from 1 Corinthians 11:13 that women were at liberty to pray in services of worship (as long as they went along with the cultural expectation of having their heads covered), and presumably that would apply to prophecy as well. (What we make in our day and age of the head-covering rule, or of Paul’s seeming ban on women preaching… well, I leave that for another day! - though personally I am pleased that most churches seem happy to view such practices as no longer applicable.)

The point that matters is that women’s voices were valued (not just tolerated) in the early church, and churches that attempt to silence them today are simply wrong. Paul, regarded by some as a “woman-hater”, was nothing of the kind – think of the warmth with which he spoke of Priscilla, and the other female names in Romans 16.

Second, the actions of Agabus (verses 10-11) raise questions about the gift of prophecy: “he took Paul’s belt, tied his own hands and feet with it and said, ‘The Holy Spirit says, In this way the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem will bind the owner of this belt and will hand him over to the gentiles’”. That sounds like unwelcome news!

It’s sometimes said that the gift of prophecy is not about “foretelling” (that is, telling the future), but about “forth-telling” (that is, declaring the word of God). Well, that may generally be the case, but it certainly wasn’t so in the case of Agabus (Acts 11:28 is another case in point). Rather like some of the Old Testament prophets, Agabus performed a mini-drama, in this case with Paul’s belt (don’t ask how exactly he managed to do the tying! – that’s not the point) and it must have amounted to a very arresting scene (“What on earth is he up to…?”). Agabus provided his own interpretation: “the owner of this belt will suffer at the hands of the Jews” and everyone looking on took this as God urging Paul not to go to Jerusalem – just as had the Christians of Tyre (verse 4), where “through the Spirit” they pleaded the same thing.

What is specially interesting is that everyone except Paul made the obvious application: “Paul, don’t go on to Jerusalem; you’re liable to be killed!” And on each occasion Paul… refused to obey. So it seems that there are times when a genuine, Spirit-sent prophecy should in fact be questioned. Paul had already made up his mind that God wanted to him to face whatever might happen to him in Jerusalem, and nothing, not even Spirit-given prophetic words, was going to stand in his way.

So…? If nothing else, this suggests that we need to treat prophetic words with great care and wisdom. Putting it more directly: let’s be very wary of the devout Chrisian who declares that “the Lord has given me a message through the Spirit…”. The wise Christian’s response is “Well, he may indeed have done so. But let’s look at this message very carefully before we make up our minds.” How many people, one wonders, especially in the period of charismatic renewal, have been suckered (one almost uses the word blackmailed) by hyper-spiritual Christians who are convinced they are God’s mouthpiece, and who manage to convince others too.

Putting the main point another way, in the words of 1 John 4:1, we are to “test the spirits to see if they are from God”; and why? “because many false prophets have gone out into the world”. The Christians of Tyre, and Agabus, were certainly not false prophets, yet in these situations they didn’t have the final word. Christian, be wise! Christian, don’t be gullible!

Perhaps the clearest snap-shot from these verses is the sheer devotion and dedication of Paul. Hearing the plea of those around him to turn back from Jerusalem, he resolutely declares: “Why are you weeping and breaking my heart? I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus” (verse 14).

Oh for such devotion and courage in us!

Father, please help me to make the church to which you have called me wise and mature, and most of all to be filled with Christlike love. Amen.

Snapshots of the early church

 3 We landed at Tyre, where our ship was to unload its cargo. 4 We sought out the disciples there and stayed with them seven days. Through the Spirit they urged Paul not to go on to Jerusalem. 5 When it was time to leave, we left and continued on our way. All of them, including wives and children, accompanied us out of the city, and there on the beach we knelt to pray. 6 After saying goodbye to each other, we went aboard the ship, and they returned home.

7 We continued our voyage from Tyre and landed at Ptolemais, where we greeted the brothers and sisters and stayed with them for a day. 8 Leaving the next day, we reached Caesarea and stayed at the house of Philip the evangelist, one of the Seven. 9 He had four unmarried daughters who prophesied.

10 After we had been there a number of days, a prophet named Agabus came down from Judea. 11 Coming over to us, he took Paul’s belt, tied his own hands and feet with it and said, “The Holy Spirit says, ‘In this way the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem will bind the owner of this belt and will hand him over to the Gentiles.’”

12 When we heard this, we and the people there pleaded with Paul not to go up to Jerusalem. 13 Then Paul answered, “Why are you weeping and breaking my heart? I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus.” 14 When he would not be dissuaded, we gave up and said, “The Lord’s will be done.”

15After this, we started on our way up to Jerusalem. 16 Some of the disciples from Caesarea accompanied us and brought us to the home of Mnason, where we were to stay. He was a man from Cyprus and one of the early disciples.

Acts 21:3-16

Paul is heading from the region of Asia Minor (Philippi, Troas, Miletus) by ship to Jerusalem, and these verses tell us about things that happened along the way. It’s a longer passage than I usually take, but I think it’s worth it, and I’ve left the verse numbers in to make it easier to refer back to. Please read the passage right through to start with.

Our twenty-first century church is, of course, immensely different from the sort of thing that is being described here, but there is still much that we can learn, and much to make us think. I think of it as “Snapshots of the early church”. Let me pick out one or two, pretty much at random…

Snapshot one: these verses demonstrate great love and affection.

Jesus said that “by this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35). Paul, of course, had a special place in God’s purposes but, make no mistake, the love these early Christians  had for him was neither a distant, formal kind of support, nor a shallow celebrity cult - Paul the super apostle (in fact there were those in the early church who weren’t too sure about him at all).

Everywhere he and his party go they are met, or accompanied by, or given accommodation by, Christian brothers and sisters. Chapter 20 finishes with him in Miletus saying goodbye to Christian leaders from Ephesus – kneeling, praying, embracing them. According to 21:1 they had to “tear themselves away from them” (can you see it?).

When they got to Tyre (verses 4-6) they stayed with the church there, and were pleaded with “through the Spirit” (note those words!) not to go to Jerusalem for fear of them coming to harm. But Paul had made up his mind, and there was a touching little farewell procession to the beach where “all of them, including wives and children” knelt to pray with them. Again, can you picture it?

The plain fact is that Christlike love – self-giving, sacrificial love - is the absolute hall-mark of the church in any day and age. Which raises the question: is it also the hall-mark of our churches? Or do we tend to see “church” as a building or an organisation rather than a family? Even if some of us feel we have little to contribute to our local church we can pray to love others with a truly Christlike love. Not until we get to heaven will we have the slightest notion of how much we may have contributed.

Snapshot two: the gift of prophecy seems to have figured strongly in the New Testament church.

In verse 8 we read about “Philip the evangelist” (remember him from Acts 6:5 and 8:26-40?) who “had four unmarried daughters who prophesied”, and in verses 10-11 about a man called Agabus, whom we have also met earlier, in Acts 11:28. How the four daughters of Philip exercised their prophetic ministries we can only guess (though wouldn’t that have been an interesting household to spy on!). But Agabus seems to have had an approach to prophesy akin to that of the Old Testament prophets, including what we might think of as “visual aids” or something like street theatre (verses 10-11).

If prophesy was indeed a big feature of the early church, that leaves two questions: first, what exactly was it? and second, should we today be expecting it to be part of our church life?

It’s impossible to be absolutely precise about the first question. My own feeling is that as good a definition as we can reach would be: “prophecy is a spontaneous, Spirit-inspired utterance which may be delivered by any respected member of a Christian gathering and which speaks directly to an existing situation or problem”. (Whatever it is, it is not to be identified with a prepared message or “sermon”.)

So should we, especially if we belong to a tradition that doesn’t recognise this gift for today, be more open to it?

Some churches think prophesy was needed in the early church only because at that time there was no such thing as “the Bible”; now that we have the full scriptures it has ceased to be relevant or necessary.

I doubt very much if that is correct, but I recognise that an over-emphasis on spontaneous gifts can lead to all sorts of problems. We know, for example, that while Paul himself highly valued the gift of “speaking in tongues” (1 Corinthians 14:18) he knew only too well the shambolic mess it had reduced the Corinth church to: “will they [that is, any visitors or outsiders] not say that you are out of your mind?” (1 Corinthians 14:23). Beware anything that smacks of hysteria or loss of order!

But equally some churches over the years have got themselves locked into a cast-iron “liturgy” or other pattern which renders their worship rigid and formulaic: everything is cut and dried in advance; anything remotely fresh or “spontaneous” is viewed with fear and suspicion; and you can’t help wondering if windows need to be thrown open and a breath of spiritual fresh air allowed to circulate.

Riotous spontaneity on the one hand (that’s Corinth) and fixed pre-packaged patterns on the other (that may be some of us?) are both to be avoided. But are there times to avoid being over-cautious and let that fresh wind of the Holy Spirit blow?

I’ve run out of space, so please join me again next time as we continue to learn from Paul’s journey to Jerusalem.

Lord of the Church, I realise that the early church, for all its radiant love and vibrant, risk-taking faith, was far from perfect. But thank you for the honest portrait we find in the New Testament, and help me to do all I can to seek to build up that kind of church in my own locality. Amen.