Listen up, my soul!

Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Saviour and my God. Psalm 42:5,11; 43:5.

Have you ever been given “a bit of a talking to” by a trusted friend? They’ve sat you down and told you one or two things that perhaps you would have preferred not to hear. At the time you really didn’t like it very much, but with the benefit of hindsight you realise that in fact they were doing you a favour, indeed one that required a lot of courage, and one, perhaps, that significantly changed your life. You end up thanking God for them - and that they loved you enough to care.

Great. But what if there is no such person in your life at the time? What then? Are you left to carry on with life as it is – perhaps with a guilty conscience you prefer to ignore, or with a heavy spirit you can’t shake off. What are you to do?

Whoever wrote Psalms 42 and 43 provides an interesting suggestion by his example: if there is nobody else to give you that talking to, well, you’d better do it yourself, hadn’t you?

These psalms, taken together, consist of a mere sixteen verses, yet three times the same question is repeated: “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?” And then follows the same reply: “Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Saviour and my God” (42:5 and 11, 43:5). He talks to… himself. Does the thought of talking to your own “soul”, your very inmost being, seem strange to you? Me too. But learning new habits can be a good thing!

It sounds easy enough. But of course it may be anything but. The psalmist seems to be struggling with what today we would probably call “depression”. He feels isolated in his suffering, the butt of other people’s mockery (42:3). He can’t help remembering what we might label “the good old days”, which are now just a distant memory (42:4). He feels forgotten by God himself (42:9-10), even perhaps a little bitter (43:1-2).

And so it may be with us. Quite apart from serious clinical depression, which may require help including medication and professional counselling, our moods and circumstances can conspire against us to bring us low. Christians of an earlier generation used to speak of it as “melancholy”, and there were those who lived with it for a lifetime. It wasn’t regarded as necessarily a symptom of sin – psalms like these reassure us that even the most Christlike of people can suffer in this way. We too can take encouragement from them.

Talking to ourselves like this may take different forms – a scold when we know we are somehow in the wrong, a renewed determination to draw strength from God if we have heard bad news.

But whatever our situation may be, one thing is certain: we must be serious about it. If, frankly, we have allowed ourselves to slip into laziness or lethargy, the old cliches, corny and shallow though they can seem, are worth taking seriously - “pull yourself together!”, “get a grip!”, “snap out of it!”. A bit of spiritual finger-wagging may be in order.

But if that kind of self-motivation is simply beyond us at the moment, there is no blame in that. God sees and understands total honesty – for example, when we read “my soul thirsts for God, for the living God”, it may be that we simply can’t echo those words. “No, that’s my whole problem!” we cry. “My thirst for God has evaporated! If anything I feel angry with him”. If that’s honestly how we’re feeling we can be sure that God’s shoulders are big enough to take that kind of protest.

What in particular might we feel it good to tell our souls? I suggest these possibilities…

First, a word of rebuke. If we have indeed fallen into sin, that word might be, “Look, soul, you know that we’ve been out of step with God for a time now. Well, it’s time to be truly sorry and start again”. We don’t need to wallow and agonise (probably not, anyway), but we do need to mean business. Remember – God loves to forgive.

Second, a word of reminder. “Look, soul, just think of all the times God has answered our prayers and brought us through difficult circumstances. Is there any reason why he cannot do the same again? Count your blessings…”

Third, a word of determination. “Look, soul, God never promised that everything would be easy in following Jesus! Have we forgotten that?  We were told to take up our cross to follow him – and that wasn’t just a graphic figure of speech. Well, let’s do it then; it’s more than worth it in the end”.

Fourth, a word of faith. “Soul, start believing again! Start looking for clear answers to prayer – all right, not necessarily big, dramatic answers, and not necessarily intense and lengthy prayers, but clear indications that God is at work, however heavy the circumstances might be”.

Fifth, a word of commitment. “Remember, soul, that God has work for us to do. He has called us to serve him in perhaps small but nonetheless significant ways – at home, at work, around the neighbourhood, in a multitude of ways. Well, let’s roll up our sleeves and get on with it, then!”

Father, I’m finding life particularly difficult at the moment, and my walk with you has ground to a halt. Please restore me by your Holy Spirit. Where the fault lies with my own sin, please forgive me. Where it lies with circumstances beyond  my control, please give me the gift of perseverance, and refresh me and guide me by your Spirit. Amen.

O for a closer walk with God,/ A calm and heavenly frame,/ A light to shine upon the road/ That leads me to the Lamb.

Where is the blessedness I knew/ When first I saw the Lord?/ Where is the soul-refreshing view/ Of Jesus and his word?

What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!/ How sweet their memory still!/ But they have left an aching void/ The world can never fill.

The dearest idol I have known,/ Whate’er that idol be,/Help me to tear it from thy throne,/And worship only thee. Amen.

William Cooper, 1731-1800

Miracles in Malta (3)

28 Once safely on shore, we found out that the island was called Malta. ² The islanders showed us unusual kindness. They built a fire and welcomed us all because it was raining and cold. ³ Paul gathered a pile of brushwood and, as he put it on the fire, a viper, driven out by the heat, fastened itself on his hand. ⁴ When the islanders saw the snake hanging from his hand, they said to each other, “This man must be a murderer; for though he escaped from the sea, the goddess Justice has not allowed him to live.” ⁵ But Paul shook the snake off into the fire and suffered no ill effects. ⁶ The people expected him to swell up or suddenly fall dead; but after waiting a long time and seeing nothing unusual happen to him, they changed their minds and said he was a god.

⁷ There was an estate nearby that belonged to Publius, the chief official of the island. He welcomed us to his home and showed us generous hospitality for three days. ⁸ His father was sick in bed, suffering from fever and dysentery. Paul went in to see him and, after prayer, placed his hands on him and healed him. ⁹ When this had happened, the rest of the sick on the island came and were cured. ¹⁰ They honoured us in many ways; and when we were ready to sail, they furnished us with the supplies we needed. Acts 28:1-10

Jesus said, For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 5:20

… what are human beings, that you think of them, mere mortals, that you care for them? Psalm 8:4

In the last two blogs I have been visiting (so to speak) the island of Malta. 276 men, including Paul, have been shipwrecked; all of them have survived, and the local people have done all they could to make them as comfortable as possible.

The story suggests different answers to the question posed in Psalm 8: what are human beings? So far I have touched on two answers. First, we are God-like creatures, made in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:26) who even though fallen into sin are still capable of loving and sacrificial deeds (“the islanders showed us unusual kindness”, Acts 28:2). We, however imperfectly, may still reflect the loving character of God himself.

Second, we are prone to superstition. The islanders assume, first, that when Paul is attacked by a poisonous snake he must be a murderer unable to escape the god of Justice, and then, when he fails to drop dead, that he must be a god. I suggested that, for all the advances in human science and knowledge over the last two thousand years, modern humanity is not much different. Every time someone reads their horoscope they display the human race’s proneness to superstition.

But there is a third - and the most important - answer to the question, What are we? It is wonderfully simple: We are people loved by God. In Acts 28 an episode that starts in disaster, fear and suffering ends in healing and hope. In verses 7-11 we read of Paul being used by God to heal the father of Publius, “the chief official of the island”, and then of carrying out a ministry of healing throughout the whole island. Chaos and disorder give way to wholeness.

Putting this in its full biblical context, this means that though Adam and Eve fell into sin, and though they were excluded from the garden of Eden, God’s intended home for them, he didn’t turn his back on them. He had made them because he loved them – and he carried on loving them. Adam and Eve represent the entire human race, including you and me, and he set in motion a plan whereby our race can be restored to harmony with him.

It involved choosing one particular people, the people of Israel, to be “a light to enlighten the nations” (Isaiah 42:6). He didn’t choose them because they were particularly good – they weren’t  - but in order that they might carry to the whole world the good news of God’s rescue plan. This plan involved God allowing the suffering that resulted from sin and disobedience to fall on him in the person of his Son, Jesus of Nazareth. As the New Testament sums it up, “he himself bore our sins in his body on the cross” (1 Peter 2:24).

But what has this got to do with the island of Malta? Certainly, it could equally apply to other places in the ancient world – places like Rome and Corinth, like Antioch and Colossae – any place where the good news of the gospel has been made known and taken root, and any such place down through history.

The point is that as disease is just one symptom of sin, one result of what we call “the fall”, so the healing of the sick represents a reversal of what happened in Eden. As Paul exercised his gift of healing, it spoke of God’s continuing love for fallen people. As we read Acts 28:7-10 we are reminded of the events which accompanied the start of the ministry of Jeus (for example Mark 1:29-34). Paul, like Simon Peter and others before him, were doing in miniature what Jesus himself did by his earthly ministry, his crucifixion and his resurrection; they were providing what must have been a breath-taking foretaste of what is to come when Jesus returns to this earth. As John the visionary spells it out: “God will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Revelation 21:4).

It’s interesting that there is no mention in Acts 28 (written of course by Luke) of a preaching/teaching ministry; all the emphasis falls on physical healing. Perhaps this reflects Luke’s special interest as a doctor! – though, if so, it certainly doesn’t apply to his book as a whole. I’m sure we can take for granted that plenty of teaching about Jesus took place, even if only in an informal setting.

But it serves to remind us that in our witness as modern Christians word and deed must go hand in hand, just as it did in the earthly lifetime of Jesus himself. Supremely, yes, we have a message to proclaim - that’s the word part. But let’s never forget that that message must be backed up by deeds of love, kindness and generosity: as James the brother of Jesus put it, “faith without works is dead”. Is this a message some of us need to hear?

I wonder if a church was founded on Malta? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the New Testament contained a letter “to all in Malta who are loved by God and called to be his holy people”. Well, it doesn’t, and that’s that.

But I’m sure that the events of the shipwreck, along with the ministry of healing and teaching, were remembered for a very long time; in fact, were never forgotten, even to this day. Let this be an encouragement to us to faithfully sow the seed of the gospel. Who knows how many thousands of lives, even millions, might be changed as a result?

Father, thank you for the wonderful way in which what seemed like catastrophic events in Malta were turned to lasting good and the victory of the gospel. Help me to be a true seed-sower in whatever circumstances I may find myself - and to leave the fruit to you. Amen.

Saintly sinners? (2)

28 Once safely on shore, we found out that the island was called Malta. ² The islanders showed us unusual kindness. They built a fire and welcomed us all because it was raining and cold. ³ Paul gathered a pile of brushwood and, as he put it on the fire, a viper, driven out by the heat, fastened itself on his hand. ⁴ When the islanders saw the snake hanging from his hand, they said to each other, “This man must be a murderer; for though he escaped from the sea, the goddess Justice has not allowed him to live.” ⁵ But Paul shook the snake off into the fire and suffered no ill effects. ⁶ The people expected him to swell up or suddenly fall dead; but after waiting a long time and seeing nothing unusual happen to him, they changed their minds and said he was a god.

⁷ There was an estate nearby that belonged to Publius, the chief official of the island. He welcomed us to his home and showed us generous hospitality for three days. ⁸ His father was sick in bed, suffering from fever and dysentery. Paul went in to see him and, after prayer, placed his hands on him and healed him. ⁹ When this had happened, the rest of the sick on the island came and were cured. ¹⁰ They honoured us in many ways; and when we were ready to sail, they furnished us with the supplies we needed. Acts 28:1-10

Jesus said, For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 5:20

… what are human beings, that you think of them, mere mortals, that you care for them? Psalm 8:4

“What are human beings…?” is the question we reflected on last time, and I suggested that the people of Malta, who showed “unusual kindness” to the victims of the shipwreck described in Acts 27-28, can give us some important clues. The first point was that we are God-like creatures, as stated in Genesis1.

The people of Malta had no reason to show kindness to these foolish voyagers washed up on their shore, beyond the fact that something of the compassion and kindness of God still glimmered in their hearts. They were fallen people, like all of us, but still capable of good deeds. I suggested that the pagan sailors who tried hard to rescue the runaway prophet Jonah from death by drowning (Jonah 1), and Jesus’ story of the good Samaritan (Luke 10), convey the same lesson. I suggested too that this truth is confirmed by our own experience – haven’t we all been on the receiving end of kind and even sacrificial deeds by people who have no belief in God?

But this truth is far from the whole truth. So if we go back to the original question…

Second, we are also prone to superstition…

In Acts 28:3-6 Luke tells us a story which I find it difficult not to smile at. While the islanders and the ship’s company were busying themselves building a bonfire, a viper “driven out by the heat, fastened itself on his [Paul’s] hand”. Whereupon the people jumped to a conclusion: that Paul must be a murderer, and that even though the sea hadn’t got him, “the goddess Justice has not allowed him to live”; ie, it was only a matter of time before he dropped dead. So that’s that then: sorted. Just one problem with it, though: it didn’t happen. Paul “shook the snake off into the fire and suffered no ill effects”.

So much for their theory! But they didn’t give up easily: “after waiting a long time and seeing nothing unusual happen to him” (can you see them eyeing him suspiciously for the next half-hour, waiting for him to “swell up or suddenly fall dead”?), “they changed their minds and said he was a god”.

You see what I mean about finding a comical element to the story? From “this man must be a murderer” to “this man must be a god” in no time at all!

But of course it’s not really funny – because it demonstrates how deeply embedded superstition was in their minds. And we wonder to ourselves, how could they be so foolish?

What is superstition? One dictionary defines it as “an irrational belief or practice, not based on reason or scientific knowledge, that connects unrelated actions or objects to luck, fate or magical outcomes”. Well, that will do, I suppose! But terms like gullibility, hocus-pocus or plain naivety might do just as well.

Of course we moderns, living in our high-tech scientific world, are free of such nonsense, aren’t we? I’m not so sure. I don’t know if anyone has done a scientific study of the statistics, but I’m told that many thoroughly modern, educated people change the number of their new home from 13 when they move in, regarding it as unlucky. People wear lucky charms or crosses, hoping for some kind of supernatural protection. They read their horoscopes (“just a bit of fun, of course”). They regularly buy lottery tickets, knowing that their chances of winning are infinitesimally small. Top footballers don’t like to run onto the pitch without crossing themselves so many times.

And let’s not kid ourselves that we Christians never fall for it. I remember as a new Christian in my teenage years that there was something called your “qt”. QT stood for “quiet time”, a period in every day to be set aside for prayer and Bible-reading – and the longer and more intense it was the better. You might even be asked by a well-meaning friend “Have you had your qt today?” – a question which tended to breed fear and drain confidence… Have I prayed long enough…? Have I prayed hard enough? Have I used the right words? Oh dear, could God be cross with me, that I haven’t measured up? I’ll have to do my best to make up for it tomorrow…

 

Of course it’s good to have a strong discipline when it comes to personal prayer and Bible reading – but not good if that turns God into a distant school-teacher figure always frowning at our failings.

 

It’s been said that, if people stop believing in the truth, they don’t end up believing in nothing but start believing in anything, however absurd. I think that’s true. No blame can be attached to the people of Malta, of course, because they had never heard the truth in the first place. But they can still stand as a warning to us. Is my faith – your faith – tainted with superstition? How do I relate to God – as a stern and disapproving critic or as my loving heavenly Father?

 

I’ve run out of space. But the most important thing we need to learn from the people of Malta remains to be highlighted. So again I must encourage you to join me next time…

 

Father, thank you for loving me and sending Jesus to die for me. Help me to see you by faith as you truly are - a gracious Father to be trusted, loved and obeyed. Amen.

Saintly sinners?

Once safely on shore, we found out that the island was called Malta. ² The islanders showed us unusual kindness. They built a fire and welcomed us all because it was raining and cold. ³ Paul gathered a pile of brushwood and, as he put it on the fire, a viper, driven out by the heat, fastened itself on his hand. ⁴ When the islanders saw the snake hanging from his hand, they said to each other, “This man must be a murderer; for though he escaped from the sea, the goddess Justice has not allowed him to live.” ⁵ But Paul shook the snake off into the fire and suffered no ill effects. ⁶ The people expected him to swell up or suddenly fall dead; but after waiting a long time and seeing nothing unusual happen to him, they changed their minds and said he was a god.

⁷ There was an estate nearby that belonged to Publius, the chief official of the island. He welcomed us to his home and showed us generous hospitality for three days. ⁸ His father was sick in bed, suffering from fever and dysentery. Paul went in to see him and, after prayer, placed his hands on him and healed him. ⁹ When this had happened, the rest of the sick on the island came and were cured. ¹⁰ They honoured us in many ways; and when we were ready to sail, they furnished us with the supplies we needed. Acts 28:1-10

Jesus said, For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 5:20

… what are human beings, that you think of them, mere mortals, that you care for them? Psalm 8:4

That’s not a bad question, is it, which the psalmist directs at God? What are we? Who are we? Why are we here? What distinguishes us from the animal kingdom? Are we in fact, as some have maintained, nothing but “naked apes”, hairless bipeds?

The Bible exists primarily to enable us to understand the nature of God, by whom we are made. But in doing so it also has a lot to say about the nature of humankind, who and what we are, and how God chooses to deal with us. Acts 28 may seem an unlikely part of the Bible to turn to to find even a partial answer. But I think it does, so please bear with me.

It tells the story of a shipwreck - how 276 men, including the apostle Paul, escaped death by the skin of their teeth. They are on their way to Rome, where Paul, a Roman citizen as well as a devout Jew and now also a follower of Jesus, has claimed his right to appeal to the Roman emperor against the accusations of the Jews. They discover that they have been cast ashore on an island called Malta, and chapter 28 tells us how they eventually got to Rome.

Verses1-10 give us an interesting glimpse of the people of Malta. It indirectly provides partial answers to the question we started with: “what are human beings?” So let the people of Malta be our guide…

First, we are God-like creatures.

You might protest “You don’t have to go to a relatively obscure chapter in Acts to tell us that! That truth is right there in the very first chapter of the Bible: ‘So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them’” (Genesis 1:27). Big books have been written to open up in detail all that that might mean; but however we understand it, there can be no doubt that it puts the human race in a pretty unique category. It is said of no other creatures on the face of the earth that they are made in the image of God. And that must include that we reflect God’s love and kindness.

“Ah yes,” you might say, “but things went badly wrong. We yielded to sin, disobeying and rebelling against God; this is the point of the story of Adam and Eve. We are a fallen race”. This of course is true, and it is spelled out on page after page of the Bible. But the question arises, how complete is the spoiling of human godlikeness? Has human nature become corrupt and rotten through and through? Are there no vestiges of God-like goodness remaining?

This is where the people of Malta can help us.

The ordeal of Paul’s ship would appear to have gone on for some days in sight of land, and if so the local people would have had a close-up view of their struggles. But what could they do? The storm was so ferocious that they could only watch; no doubt they had seen such tragedies many times in the past, so they could only shake their heads and wait for the inevitable.

But… the inevitable didn’t happen! The final sentence of chapter 27 tells us that, amazingly, “everyone reached land safely”. And Luke goes on to tell us that “the islanders [the Greek word, by the way, is barbaroi, barbarians] showed us unusual kindness” (28:2), lighting a fire to dry and warm them (and no doubt bringing them food).

You could ask why they bothered. If the ship’s company were so reckless and stupid as to put to sea at the wrong time of year (Paul, according to 27:9-12, had pleaded with them not to), “Well,” they might have said, “on their own heads be it. It’s no business of ours”. But they didn’t; no, they “showed us kindness” and, indeed, a kindness that was “unusual” or “exceptional”.

I find myself thinking also of the “Good Samaritan” that Jesus spoke about in Luke 10. And even of the pagan sailors in Jonah 1 who struggled heroically to save Jonah from the consequences of his own folly. Didn’t they too, though not among the children of God, show “unusual kindness”?

These examples demonstrate that the image of God in humankind is not completely snuffed out. And personal experience confirms this. We must all have known times when non-Cristian neighbours and friends – not to mention total strangers – have showed us totally undeserved kindness. Have we not all known times when people who make no claim to be Christian have, if I may invent a word, “outchristianed” us, putting us to shame by their kindness and generosity?

To say this is not to deny that we are all sinners in need of forgiveness and salvation. Certainly not. In Romans 3:9-18 Paul collects together a list of Old Testament texts, mainly from the psalms, which spell that out loud and clear. It begins with the uncompromising statement: “There is no-one righteous, not even one… “ and goes on ,”there is no one who does good, not even one…”, which reflects sinful human nature at its horrible worst. Indeed, we might all find ourselves agreeing with Paul’s words without bothering to ransack the Old Testament – do we in fact need to look any further than into the depths of our own hearts? Not me…

I said that the “barbarians” of Malta in Acts 28 had much to teach us about the nature of human nature: that it still carries glimmerings of light. But I have not got any further than my “First” heading. There is, I think, a lot more to be said – but that will have to wait till next time… join me again then, please.

Father, thank you for the stern word of Jesus that his followers’ righteousness must surpass that of even the most religious of people. Thank you too for the kindness and generosity I have received at different times from people who were not followers of Jesus. Forgive me, please, for those occasions when I fall short and bring shame on your name. Amen.

A time to be born, and a time to die

When Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice he gave up his Spirit. Matthew 27:50

…a time to be born, and a time to die. Lamentations 3:2

While they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit”. Then he fell on his knees and cried out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them”. When he had said this, he fell asleep. Acts 7:59-60

If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost. If only for this life  we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied. But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. 1 Corinthians 15:16-20

Just recently I have been thinking a lot about death. This isn’t because I have got sucked into a particularly morbid frame of mind. Far from it. No, it’s more because death, or the possible threat of it, has come elbowing its way into our life with unusual regularity. Almost every day, it seems, there has been news of a death or a serious illness among relatives or friends, plus the usual quota of killings, murders and shocking tragedies in national and world news.

And it has touched us personally. Since September I have not been too well myself, and while I still await a diagnosis (my GP confesses herself puzzled and has referred me to the local hospital) there is bound to be that nagging sense of uncertainty: “Could this be it…?”

Death is a subject that breeds euphemisms – that is, “kind” ways of saying unwelcome things. “Oh, I don’t think about things like that”, said somebody, when we found ourselves on the subject of getting old or sick. “Things like that” presumably seemed preferable to saying just, well, “dying”. In the early years of my ministry, some fifty years ago, I remember visiting an elderly lady in a care home - only to be told, “I’m afraid she’s gone to collect her wings”. It took me a moment to grasp that, ah, of course, she had become an angel. (It didn’t seem an appropriate moment to engage in theological discussion.)

More seriously, I have sat with dying people surrounded by well-meaning friends and neighbours who insist on assuring them, “Oh, we’ll soon have you up and about again, old chap”, a truly angry-making lie.

If ever anybody should have no need of euphemisms about death, it’s the Christian. Oh yes, it’s a sad and unwelcome subject indeed, there’s no denying that: Paul describes it as “the last enemy to be destroyed” (1 Corinthians 15:26), so, if I can put it this way, all of us are playing a waiting game. But… did Jesus die and rise again, or didn’t he? Was the tomb empty on Easter morning, or wasn’t it? Are we promised that we will die and rise with him, or aren’t we?

When I was young, people who didn’t want to say that someone had “died”, but who also didn’t want to euphemise with a comical expression like “they popped their clogs”, might say “they passed away”. Today it is more likely to be just “they passed”. A man I got chatting to once on a bench in a market in Kathmandu (he very politely asked if he could practice his English on me) told me about the day his father had “expired”, which made me think of an out of date train ticket or driving license – though surely that man can be excused.

No, as Christians we have no need of euphemisms, thank God. Unless, that is, there is one that the Bible itself gives us…

It is written of Stephen that, after the ordeal of being viciously stoned, “he prayed ‘Lord Jesus, receive my spirit’. Then he fell on his knees and cried out, ’Lord, do not hold this sin against them…” And then, and this is what I’m leading up to, “… he fell asleep”. (Acts 7:59-60).

The more I think about that expression, the more beautiful and full of meaning and reassurance I find it. Stephen did “die”, of course; but he didn’t just die! No, like a baby in a cot, he fell asleep.

To fall asleep is a wonderful thing – it’s one thing we do every day of our earthly lives, but which we never witness ourselves doing. That moment when we slip into unconsciousness is a moment others may witness, but not we ourselves. And Luke, the writer of Acts, chooses to describe Stephen’s last moments with that word.

Who did notice it happening? Well, the men with the stones in their hands, of course. But I don’t think they would have thought of Stephen as falling asleep, do you? But there was somebody else on the spot who, I suspect, did – Saul, who was to became Paul: “And Saul approved of their killing him”.

According to Acts 7:58 Saul didn’t get his hands dirty by joining the mob; but he showed his complicity by looking after the coats of the killers. It was many years before Luke wrote his book, but I find it very difficult not to believe that this was the moment when Saul realised the truth of the message of Jesus. Something profound happened in him at that moment, when he saw one of Christ’s followers, in a spirit of faith – “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit” – and in a spirit of forgiveness – “Lord, do not hold this sin against them”, dying, yes, but not just dying.

According to 1 Corinthians 15 and 1 Thessalonians 4 and 5, “falling asleep” became for Paul a euphemism (if euphemism indeed it is) which he used routinely of Christians who had died, not only of “celebrity” Christians like Stephen. So why doubt that it also applies to us today? Yes, we will die; but we won’t just die. The day will come when we wake up – and oh, what a morning that will be!

Father, thank you that, in Jesus, death is a defeated enemy. Help me to know, day by day, that my life is safe in your hands, and that as I aim to live well by your grace, so also that when your time comes I will also, like Stephen, die well. Amen.

Nathanael the mystery man (2)

The next day Jesus decided to leave for Galilee. Finding Philip, he said to him, “Follow me.”

⁴⁴ Philip, like Andrew and Peter, was from the town of Bethsaida. ⁴⁵ Philip found Nathanael and told him, “We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law, and about whom the prophets also wrote—Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.”

⁴⁶ “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” Nathanael asked.

“Come and see,” said Philip.

⁴⁷ When Jesus saw Nathanael approaching, he said of him, “Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.”

⁴⁸ “How do you know me?” Nathanael asked.

Jesus answered, “I saw you while you were still under the fig tree before Philip called you.”

⁴⁹ Then Nathanael declared, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the king of Israel.”

⁵⁰ Jesus said, “You believe because I told you I saw you under the fig tree. You will see greater things than that.” ⁵¹ He then added, “Very truly I tell you, you will see ‘heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on’ the Son of Man.” John 1:43-51

I suggested last time that these verses, describing the first phase of Jesus’ earthly ministry, can teach us at least two straightforward but valuable lessons.

First, about evangelism, which means in essence speaking to people about faith in Christ.

The point is simple: both Andrew and Philip had a story to tell: “We have found Jesus” they said. “Come and see”. Likewise for us, evangelism isn’t primarily a matter of right doctrine, important though that is, but of personal testimony, the story of how believing in Jesus has changed our lives. Do you have a story to tell? Are you ready to tell it?

Second, a warning about prejudice.

Nathanael learns that Jesus hails from Nazareth, and greets this information with outright scepticism: “You can’t be serious - nothing good can come out of Nazareth!” (verse 46). How wrong could he be! Is it time some of us took a hard and honest look at our prejudices?

So far, so easy.

But there are also some puzzling things to grapple with…

First, What did Jesus, seeing Nathanael, mean by verse 47: “Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit”?

Is that a kind of back-handed compliment? Is Jesus saying, in effect: “All right, Nathanael may not be the most discreet and tactful of people, but at least you know where you stand with him”?

According to John 21:2 Nathanael came from the town of Cana, where Jesus would shortly work his first “sign” of turning the water into wine. There’s some disagreement among scholars about the exact location of Cana, but pretty certainly it was quite close to Nazareth, so it’s quite likely that Jesus knew something of Nathanael by reputation - that rather grumpy chap who spent many hours reading scripture and praying in the shade of his fig-tree.

But perhaps there’s something even more in the expression “an Israelite in whom there is no deceit”. Jesus will go on to talk indirectly about the experience of Jacob and his dream of the ladder going up to heaven with angels on it (Genesis 28), so is there here a reference to that experience?

Now, Jacob was one of the founding fathers of the people of Israel – but he was also a not-very-nice man, a deceiver who acted dishonestly towards his brother Esau and who was anything but straightforward in his dealings with others. Could it be that Jesus is drawing a contrast between slippery Jacob and bluff, heart-on-sleeve Nathanael, a non-entity by comparison, but a man “in whom there is no deceit”, a true, straight Israelite?

That’s only speculation, but it’s hard to think of any other explanation for Jesus’ obvious fondness for him. Whatever, we can all take to heart the need to be totally open and honest with others, to be a “what you see is what you get” kind of person. Is that you? Is it me?

Second: “How do you know me?” asks Nathanael in verse 48, clearly taken aback by Jesus’ cheerful reading of his character.

It’s a good question. How indeed?

I’ve already suggested that Nathanael may have been one of those people whose reputation travels far, and quite possibly Jesus, a local boy, had picked up on this. Verse 48 certainly implies that. Perhaps on various occasions he had walked past his home and seen him sitting under his fig-tree.

That isn’t to deny that Jesus’ knowledge may have been supernatural, but we do know from various places in the Gospels that there were things Jesus didn’t know, so why not here in the case of Nathanael? Perhaps we can take that possibility as a prompt to remember the humanness as well as the divinity of Jesus? – that he had that gift of insight, that ability to, as we say, “read people like a book”.

I knew a woman once who came to a spiritual turning point in her troubled life by being encouraged to reflect upon the earthliness of Jesus: that he really was (and still is!) a man as well as the Son of God. Might that reflection be of help to you too?

We often talk about the love which God has for us, but, perhaps rightly, we are reluctant to pin that love down too precisely: it’s more like a great beautiful light which envelopes us all and culminates in the cross. That’s fine, of course.

But there is also such a thing as a kind of “affection-love” that simply warms towards the other person, and I find it hard not to see that here. A Gershwin song celebrates “the way you wear your hat, the way you sip your tea… the way you hold your knife… the way you sing off key ”, delighting in the little foibles and quirks that we all have, and which make us the people we are.

I may be wrong, but I like to think of Jesus taking pleasure in Nathanael’s slight grumpiness and his liking for his fig-tree retreat. I like to think that he looks down on me too, not of course to excuse my many sins and failings, but to take a kind pleasure in my innocent little ways. Have you ever thought of Jesus loving you like that?

Third: What are we to make of verses 50-51, where Jesus declares that Nathanael will see far, far greater things than his (Jesus’) ability to read Nathanael’s heart.

 “You will see heaven open and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man”. What a strange picture that conjures up!

But I think I’ll have to leave it till next time…

Father, thank you for the rich mix of personality types that is found among your people. Help me to delight in the many ways my life has been enriched by my brothers and sisters in Christ, and to make it my business to be always straight, honest and true. Amen.

Nathanael the mystery man

The next day Jesus decided to leave for Galilee. Finding Philip, he said to him, “Follow me.”

⁴⁴ Philip, like Andrew and Peter, was from the town of Bethsaida. ⁴⁵ Philip found Nathanael and told him, “We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law, and about whom the prophets also wrote—Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.”

⁴⁶ “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” Nathanael asked.

“Come and see,” said Philip.

⁴⁷ When Jesus saw Nathanael approaching, he said of him, “Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.”

⁴⁸ “How do you know me?” Nathanael asked.

Jesus answered, “I saw you while you were still under the fig tree before Philip called you.”

⁴⁹ Then Nathanael declared, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the king of Israel.”

⁵⁰ Jesus said, “You believe because I told you I saw you under the fig tree. You will see greater things than that.” ⁵¹ He then added, “Very truly I tell you, you will see ‘heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on’ the Son of Man.” John 1:43-51

 

It’s a puzzling little passage, these verses at the end of John 1, not least because of the enigmatic figure of Nathanael. Jesus mysteriously describes him as “truly an Israelite in whom is no deceit” (verse 47), and, perhaps even more mysteriously, gives him the promise that he “will see the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man” (verse 51). Really? Can you imagine that? Strange.

 

What’s the background?

 

Jesus is out and about at the beginning of his ministry, overlapping with John the Baptist and calling his first apostles, the original twelve. Have you ever wondered, by the way, why half of them are hardly known to us from the Gospels? Certainly, most Christians will know about Simon Peter and his brother Andrew, also James and John, the sons of Zebedee, and of course “doubting Thomas” and Judas Iscariot. But for the rest, well, they rather fade into a hazy cloud in our minds.

 

None more so than Nathanael. Verses 43-51 tell the story of his call, and make him a very real figure, with a particular stamp to his character (“truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit”); but we never meet him again until John 21:2, and even when we do he is no more than a name in a list. Again, strange!

 

If we go back to verse 29 and the ministry of John the Baptist, these events suggest certain fairly clear lessons that we can learn from and apply to ourselves today; but they also pose certain questions which leave us scratching our heads. Let’s start with the fairly clear lessons. I suggest two…

 

First, while not strictly about evangelism, “the passing on of the good news of Jesus from one person to another”, they can help us as we think about it.

 

Whole books, of course, are written about evangelism, and you can go on training courses to learn how to do it. These books and courses may contain real wisdom and important insights. But ultimately there are no set techniques or methods which pin everything down. Taking our cue from John 1, the simplest, and perhaps purest, form of evangelism is a kind of chain-reaction: as the song puts it, “One shall tell another, and he shall tell his friend…”. “Gossiping the Gospel”, it has been called.

 

The chain here starts with John the Baptist (verses 29-36), continues with Andrew, then goes on with Philip (verse 43).

 

Andrew repeats the process with his brother Simon Peter, whom Jesus renames “Cephas”, or “Peter”, meaning “Rock”. But it’s with Philip that Nathanael comes on the scene - Philip told Nathanael: “We have found the one Moses wrote about in the law… Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph”.

 

True, Nathanael’s initial response is pretty sceptical: “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” But his subsequent turn-around could hardly be quicker or more complete: “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the king of Israel”. Nathanael has certainly been evangelised!

 

So, the lesson for us…?

 

Christian, be ready to tell your personal story.

Both Andrew and Philip begin their message with the words “we have found…”, and if we are likewise ready to say to interested people “I have found… this is my experience…” that is likely to make more of an impact than quoting Bible verses or outlines of doctrine. (I recommend at this point five minutes spent reflecting on 1 Peter 3:15…) Let’s ask ourselves, then… First, have I got a story about Jesus to tell? And, second, am I ready to tell it?

 

A second lesson from the Nathanael story gives us a warning about prejudice.

 

I can’t help smiling every time I read of Nathanael’s response to Philip’s invitation. It’s as if he says: “Nazareth! Huh! Please don’t expect me to be impressed by that! Can anything good come out of that scrubby, backwoods little town? It’s never even mentioned in the Bible…”.

 

That is prejudice, pure and simple. And it’s something we can all be guilty of. I speak, as it happens, as someone who spent 20 very happy years of my life in a small heavy-industrial town called Scunthorpe, in Humberside.

 

Scunthorpe? Really? asks some smart, sceptical person. Yes, Scunthorpe! What’s your problem?

 

Twenty years is a hefty chunk of one’s life, and there were those who seemed to assume I would move on after four or five. But, looking back I don’t regret a minute. Twenty years of happy and satisfying ministry; one wife collected; two sons ushered into the world; some wonderful friends made; a host of warm memories stored away… I warn you; despise Scunthorpe at your peril! - you might end up with a punch on the nose (in Christian love, of course).

 

Being more serious, it’s clear that Nathanael is a blunt, plain-spoken man willing to air his prejudices. All right, his prejudice about Nazareth was pretty harmless and probably pretty common too. But… that isn’t always the case.

 

Prejudices come in all manner of forms. Someone belongs to the wrong religion, denomination or movement… they support the wrong football team… their skin is the wrong colour… their politics are hopelessly wrong… their taste in music is terrible… their dress-style is ridiculous…

 

There is a lot to admire about Nathanael, from the little we know about him. But let him also stand as a warning to us: Christian, avoid prejudice!

 

I’ve run out of space, so please join me next time for some of the more puzzling parts of the Nathanael story…

Father, please help me always to be ready to share my faith with others in clear and respectful ways; and, in a world full of hate and disrespect, help me too to keep my heart clear of the poison of prejudice. Amen.