A wasted life?

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

Boxing Day was “the feast of Stephen” (remember “Good King Wenceslas”?), who was stoned to death in the earliest days of the church by the Jewish Sanhedrin, or council. We meet him only in Acts 6-8, mainly through the long speech he gave to the council attacking their traditional Judaism, and especially their emphasis on the Jerusalem temple (chapter 7).

The first followers of Jesus came to believe that the temple had been superseded by Jesus himself and so was destined to fade into the mists of history. Understandably, the religious leaders in Jerusalem did not take kindly to this message; and so Stephen paid with his life – “the first Christian martyr”.

There’s a lot we don’t know about Stephen: how old was he? did he have a wife and children? what job did he do? how did he become a follower of Jesus?

But the details we do have make it clear that he was a giant of a man, if not in a physical sense. You may (like me) not take traditional “saints’ days” very seriously. But if December 26 gives us an excuse to take another look at Stephen, well, why not? So let’s gather together some of the things Acts tells us about this truly remarkable man…

First, his name Stephen is Greek rather than Hebrew (it means “crown” or “wreath”). This suggests that he came of Gentile (Greek-speaking) rather than Jewish stock.

Second, he was one of a group of seven men chosen in those first days to help the apostles in the organizing of the church (Acts 6:1-7). While the names of all seven are given to us, Luke, the writer of Acts, picks Stephen out as head and shoulders above the others. He was “full of faith and of the Holy Spirit” (verse 5); he was “full of God’s grace and power” and “performed great wonders and signs among the people” (verse 8); he was full of Spirit-given wisdom (verse 10).

Oh for a few more Stephens, both male and female, today!

Third, like his Master Jesus he was accused of blasphemy and put to death by the religious authorities (Acts 7:54-60).

Fourth, unlike Jesus, he had a vision of “the glory of God” as he died (verses 55-56). (Jesus experienced something very different: a terrible sense of abandonment).

Fifth, also like Jesus, he committed his spirit to God as he died (verse 59), and was buried with “deep mourning” (8:2).

And sixth, again like Jesus, he prayed for the forgiveness of those who persecuted him, that God would “not hold this sin against them” (verse 60).

That’s quite a list! Is Stephen the most Christlike person in the New Testament? A silly question, no doubt – but a very natural one.

But another question also pops its head up: Was Stephen’s life basically a wasted life?

Acts doesn’t tell us exactly how long he had been a follower of Jesus. But it certainly won’t have been for long, probably weeks rather than months. But no sooner has he begun to exercise a powerful ministry – teaching, preaching, evengelising, organising, working miracles – than… he is dead.

And you think: what might he have achieved if he had lived out a full life-span! How many sermons might he have preached? How many mission journeys gone on? Would he have been as great as Peter, John or Paul? Even greater, perhaps?

Don’t worry. I don’t really ask that question, because I have no doubt that God knows what he is doing.

But I ask it because sometimes you hear of the “premature” death of some wonderful Christian and perhaps the thought creeps into your mind, “How much talent, there, was never put to use!”.

The story of Stephen gives us some fascinating details to comfort us at such a time.

First, Acts 7:58 tells us that the men doing the stoning “laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul”. Now, why would Luke bother to tell us that, if it weren’t for the fact that what Saul saw that day played a part in his conversion? Was this the beginning of his transition to become “the apostle Paul”? Was it as Saul watched this great man dying with such calm and dignity that his hate-filled unbelief began to crumble?

Second, Acts 8:1 tells us that Stephen’s killing triggered “a great persecution against the church”, causing many of the first believers in Jerusalem to run for their lives.

Not good! But just look at what Acts 8:4 says: “Those who had been scattered preached the word wherever they went.” And that included places like Antioch which were outside the main Jewish sphere of influence. One writer says that “the blood of Stephen was the seed of Gentile Christianity”. God, as so often, proves himself adept at turning evil to good.

So… A wasted life? No! Lost talents? No! God really does know what he’s doing, and our job is simply to trust him for that – even if we do so sometimes through our tears.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, / But trust him for his grace;/ Behind a frowning providence/ He hides a smiling face. / His purposes will ripen fast, / Unfolding every hour;/ The bud may have a bitter taste, / But sweet will be the flower. William Cowper, 1731-1800 – “God moves in a mysterious way…”

But will we learn...!

The Israelites did evil in the eyes of the Lord; they forgot the Lord their God and served the Baals and the Asherahs. The anger of the Lord burned against Israel so that he sold them into the hands of Cushan-Rishathaim king of Aram Naharaim… But when they cried out to the Lord, he raised up for them a deliverer, Othniel son of Kenaz… Again the Israelites did evil in the eyes of the Lord and because they did this evil the Lord gave Eglon king of Moab power over Israel… Judges 3:7-12

Don’t worry! - I’m not intending to serve up all sorts of profound thoughts regarding Cushan-Rishathaim, Othniel and Eglon and other obscure figures from the pages of the Old Testament.

No. But the Book of Judges is part of scripture, so presumably God expects us to learn something from it. And I don’t think it’s stretching things too far to say that it offers us, among other things, a parallel between those dark and far-off days and the days in which we are living today.

What I mean is this. Christian leaders tell us, quite rightly, how we as Christians and churches can learn from the pandemic experience. Faith is strengthened through trouble and hardship, so when we eventually emerge from it we should be stronger, wiser, better followers of Jesus.

Ah, but will we be? That, of course, is the question.

The Book of Judges as a whole reflects a pattern which goes like this…

The people fall away from God… God allows them to be punished by their enemies… the people “cry out to the Lord”… so God “raises up for them a deliverer”… for a time all is well… but then again they “do evil in the eyes of the Lord”… And the same dreary cycle is repeated.

Sadly, exactly this pattern is reflected many times throughout Christian history, and we shouldn’t be complacent that it won’t happen again. Yes, we are presently receiving a nasty jolt about our spiritual shallowness. Yes, we are probably praying harder than we have for a long time. Yes, we are determined to learn from the present frustrations, difficulties and sadnesses.

But will we, in the end, simply slump back into that shallowness, like Israel in the days of the Judges? Only time will tell.

It may be useful to ask ourselves: What in fact is God wanting to teach us? – whether “us” means we in the church, or our nation and indeed our world as a whole.

There are many possible answers to that question. But let me pick out four of the most obvious…

First, life is uncertain.

Those of us who live in the so-called “developed” world often slip into a mentality of entitlement. I get sick? No problem, there’ll be a doctor to put me right. I fall on hard times? Don’t worry, there’ll be somebody to bail me out. I’m entitled to the good things of life: material prosperity, good education, nice holidays, treats and little luxuries. And when suddenly they’re threatened, I don’t like it.

So God is teaching me that, as for untold millions of people both past and present, life just isn’t like that. Life is uncertain.

Second, death is certain.

Surely God doesn’t need to teach me that! I’ve known it all my adult life. Well, yes; but there’s knowing… and knowing, if you get what I mean. I may know something with my mind, but never really absorb its reality; I know it only theoretically, not as something that actually affects me and makes a difference to the way I live.

For many of us, death is like that. Or was. But not any more. Suddenly I know personally people who have died, perhaps well “before their time” and perhaps in unusually sad circumstances. And at last I really do get the message that it’s only a matter of time before – well, it happens to me. Death is certain.

Third, we depend on one another.

If nothing else, the pandemic has made us aware of our own essential helplessness - and that is a blow to my personal pride and my claims to independence.

Of course, once again, I’ve always known theoretically that I am not independent; but how this has driven it home! The care-workers, the nurses, the doctors, the scientists in their laboratories, the teachers, even, yes, the politicians forced to make quick and massively important decisions... where would I be without them all, I who don’t have the remotest clue about these vital things?

But then, the most important of all the lessons God is teaching us: Christ alone offers hope.

Who else has visited earth to make known the character and love of God? Who else has died to deal with our sins and bring us back to God? Who else has defeated death and promised to us the gift of eternal life? Who else enables us to look death fairly and squarely in the face?

Answer: no-one. Jesus is simply unique.

Judges tells us that God “raised up for the people a deliverer”. Wonderful: but then he had to do it again… and again… and again.

With Jesus it’s different: he is the one-and-only deliverer. His life, death and resurrection are once-for-all, unrepeatable events. And so my faith in him and loyalty to him take precedence over everything else.

This alone is the way of life, peace and hope.

And the question is: Will I allow these difficult times to teach me this in a fresh, new way? And when everything has settled down and we all “return to normal”, will I hold fast to it; or will I just slide back to where I was before?

Questions only you and I can answer…

Dear Father in heaven, please forgive the ease and complacency with which I have so often approached life. I pray that when eventually the pandemic is over I will indeed be a better follower of Jesus – and not just for a few months! Amen.

"Don't mind me asking, Lord, but..."

The angel of the Lord came and sat down under the oak in Ophrah that belonged to Joash the Abiezrite, where his son Gideon was threshing wheat in a winepress to keep it from the Midianites. 

When the angel of the Lord appeared to Gideon, he said, “The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.” “Pardon me, my lord,” Gideon replied, “but if the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us? Where are all his wonders that our ancestors told us about when they said, ‘Did not the Lord bring us up out of Egypt?’ But now the Lord has abandoned us and given us into the hand of Midian.”

The Lord turned to him and said, “Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian’s hand. Am I not sending you?” Judges 6:11-14

Gideon is having a bad time. His people, Israel, are under the thumb of the ferocious Midianites, who have a terrifying new weapon of war: camels, hundreds and thousands of camels.

Things are so bad that Gideon is reduced to threshing the family’s wheat-crop in a wine-vat: a job that really needs an open space and a stiff breeze to blow the husks away, not just a stone bath designed for treading out the grapes. That shows how desperate he is to keep what he’s doing secret from the Midianites.

So Gideon is doing a job for his father that’s both inefficient – a bit like when you have to dry the washing on radiators and bits of furniture because you can’t put it on the line or in a machine - and humiliating. We can imagine his mood.

A stranger comes and sits down to watch. I doubt if this did much to improve Gideon’s mood. After a bit he, the stranger, speaks. Not “These are difficult days, aren’t they?” or “You’re doing a great job – keep your chin up!” or even “Keep at it, these times can’t last for ever”.

No: he says, incredibly, “The Lord is with you, mighty warrior”.

You’d need to ask an expert in biblical Hebrew what the Hebrew is for “Come again?” or “Pull the other one!” or “You can’t be serious!” But something like that, I imagine, is what Gideon thought on hearing the stranger’s words.

His actual reply, though, is far more polite: “Pardon me, my Lord… but if the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us?”

Yes, the age-old question: Why, Lord?

It’s hard to imagine a more natural response. The stranger’s words simply don’t correspond with reality - if anything, God has abandoned them, surely? So Gideon asks for an explanation. And the key thing about the incident – the thing that has application for all God’s people in every generation – is that God gave him not an explanation but a job: “Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian’s hand…”

I wonder if it was at this point that Gideon began to get an inkling of who the stranger was. We need to remember that in the Bible angels tend to look pretty much like human beings, and when Gideon called him “my Lord”, that was probably just a polite form of address, like “Sir”. But what this man is saying is so very strange that Gideon finds himself looking at him very closely indeed. He doesn’t look like some kind of crank or deranged person, so could it be, could it just possibly be…?

Well, as the story unfolds it becomes clear that the stranger is indeed an angel – indeed, three or four times he is simply called “the Lord”. Gideon is in the presence of God himself, and in a few minutes there will be a display of pyrotechnics to prove it.

There are various lessons we can draw from this story. But the one I want to focus on is the one I mentioned a moment ago: Gideon asked for an explanation: but God gave him a job instead.

We often feel very puzzled about what’s going on in our lives. This may be on a big front - the coronavirus pandemic is an obvious example. Or it may be on a more personal front - why have I become ill, or my business collapsed, or that relationship broken down, or that job not been offered to me?

I don’t think God minds if we question him – he did, after all, put up with the questioning of Job for quite a long time! But we might as well get used to the idea that very likely he won’t satisfy our curiosity; what matters is what we end up doing to put the situation right. He told Gideon, “Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian’s hand”. Roll up your sleeves, Gideon, and get busy! Which is exactly what he did.

Regarding the pandemic, depending on our circumstances we might be tempted to give in to despair, or just to become listless and drained of energy. It may not be easy to see precisely what God is calling each of us to do. But as long as God gives us another day of life, there is something for us to do, however modest and ordinary-seeming – befriending a neighbour when we meet them in the street, contacting a forgotten friend, volunteering for some task, being specially patient and considerate at work. The only way to find out is to ask God in prayer, and then leave ourselves wide open to whatever he might say.

There’s a bit of the story I have glossed over, but it’s vitally important. In verse 14 the Lord says to Gideon “Am I not sending you?”, and in verse 16, “I will be with you”.

If we know that, what else do we really need to know?

Heavenly Father, my head is always full of questions and perplexities, especially when things are hard. But please help me to leave them trustingly in your hands, and to get on with doing whatever it is you are calling me to do. Amen.

Thinking about angels

 

The angel said to Zechariah, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to tell you this good news…” (Luke 1:19)

How seriously do you take angels? Do you believe in them? If you do, do you have any idea what they are like? Do they play any part in your spiritual life?

The basic meaning of the word “angel” is simply messenger – they are essentially heavenly beings used by God to communicate with men and women (no doubt among other duties we know little about). In the Old Testament, of course, they figure quite frequently, and we meet them in various places in the New Testament, especially as heralds of the resurrection.

There’s no suggestion that, usually, they shine with a heavenly light or that they are equipped with wings; indeed, their appearance is likely to be quite ordinary (after all, according to Numbers 22, Balaam’s ass recognised the angel before Balaam did! – which admittedly doesn’t say a lot for Balaam).

It’s when we come to the Christmas story that it’s hard to avoid angels. So let’s focus on five key episodes to see if they might in some way enrich our understanding as Christians.

First, according to Luke 1:8-25, Gabriel (the only named angel) appears to one of Israel’s priests, Zechariah, while he is carrying out his duties in the Jerusalem temple: “an angel of the Lord appeared to him and… he was gripped with fear” (verses 11 and 12).

Gabriel has a two-fold message for Zechariah. First, there is good news – he and his wife Elizabeth, in spite of their advancing years, will become parents, as they have prayed for many years. Their son will have a special role in God’s plans: “filled with the Holy Spirit” from birth, his role will be to “make ready a people prepared for the Lord”. Enter John the Baptist on the stage of human history!

But there is bad news too. Zechariah questions Gabriel’s message – “How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well on in years” – whereupon Gabriel tells him that he will be deprived of the gift of speech until John is born.

Second, Gabriel goes on to visit Mary (Luke 1:26-38). Here too he is a bringer of good news: she is to be the mother of “the Son of the Most High”. Like Zechariah, she expresses doubt: “How will this be… since I am a virgin?” But unlike Zechariah she is not rebuked (I wonder why not: any suggestions?). She is no doubt thoroughly dazed: but it isn’t long before joy and wonder kick in.

Gabriel, then, is above all a bringer of good news – but also a stern rebuker of small faith.

Third, an unnamed angel is sent to Joseph, Mary’s husband-to-be (Matthew 1:18-24). Joseph must have had a terrible shock when Mary told him about her pregnancy, so on this occasion the role of the angel is simply to give him reassurance: “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit…”

And so the marriage of Joseph and Mary begins under these extraordinary circumstances.

Fourth, another unnamed angel appears to shepherds out in the fields on the night Jesus was born in Bethlehem (Luke 2:8-15).

Many preachers and commentators have remarked – rightly - on the fact that it was to people at the bottom of the social scale (that’s where shepherds were) that Jesus’ birth should first be announced. Is that something we need to get our heads round, especially those of us who belong to predominantly comfortable, middle-class churches?

The way Luke tells the story, there’s nothing to suggest that the angel was anywhere but simply standing in front of the shepherds – though he is the bringer of a frightening heavenly glow (the “glory of the Lord”, verse 9) which “terrified” them. It’s only after the angel has told them about the birth of “the Messiah” that “suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel” and the night was filled with gloriously unearthly  worship. (I wonder what that sounded like!)

Fifth, an angel appears again to Joseph in Matthew 2:13-23. In fact, he appears twice: first, to tell Joseph to get Mary and Jesus away, quickly, to Egypt, to escape from Herod; and second, to get them back home once the coast is clear and the danger is past. The angel’s role is simply a matter of guidance.

I hope you might have found this brief skim through the role of angels in the Christmas story interesting. But it still leaves the question, So what? Believing that angels exist, and seeing them in action, so to speak, is fine; but what difference does it make to how we live and act?

Answer: probably not a lot!

Certainly, we are not to become too interested in them, as some in the early church seem to have done (see Colossians 2:18). But neither should we be sentimental about them, putting them on a par perhaps with Santa Claus. If nothing else, they remind us that there is a whole wonderful and mysterious unseen world, over and above our little universe, of which we know very little (as Hamlet told his friend Horatio: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy”).

They remind us too of the unmeasurable resources available to God in working out his purposes.

Personally, just two reflections occur to my mind. First, one day, by God’s grace, I will be privileged to join with that heavenly choir that the shepherds heard. (And when that day comes, my worse than useless singing voice won’t matter a scrap!)

And second, if ever I should happen to meet an angel this side of death (I don’t rule that possibility out!), I hope his message to me will be the same as the one to the shepherds on that first Christmas night: “Colin, don’t be afraid” (Luke 2:10).

Father in heaven, please open my spiritual eyes and sharpen my sensitivity to unseen, eternal things. So may my faith be deepened and my anticipation stirred as I reflect on what awaits me when this earthly life is over. Amen.

From darkness to light (2)

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. Isaiah 9:2

Last time, looking at Isaiah 8:19-9:7, we saw how the prophet predicted a wonderful blaze of light coming to the people of Judah and setting them free from the darkness in which they were groping. I suggested that in 9:2-7 he has a vision of at least five things which transform everything – not just for Judah, but for the whole world. It’s a vision which ultimately points directly to Jesus, “the light of the world”.

I had space for only the first two of those five things: a new light (verse 2), and a new joy (verse 3). So, today, what are the other three?

(3) A new liberation (verse 4).

War was a constant threat in the world in which Israel and Judah struggled to survive. So it’s not surprising that Isaiah sticks with the image of victory in battle that we met in verse 3, recalling particularly what happened between Gideon and the Midianites (Judges 7): “yokes”, “bars” and “rods” are shattered; chains and shackles fall off.

Many of us can only imagine what it must be like to live perhaps for decades under the heel of an “oppressor” – and how wonderful it must be to be eventually liberated.

Well, the whole human race is under the oppression of sin. Jesus states plainly, “everyone who sins is a slave to sin” (John 8:34), and Paul enlarges on the theme in Romans 6:15-23. But Jesus died and rose again precisely in order to liberate us from this slavery: we have been “set free from sin and become slaves of God” (Romans 6:22) – which is, of course, perfect freedom.

So the challenge is: Do I seek each day to live a victorious life? Still more, do I expect each day to live a victorious life? Says Paul: “We are more than conquerors [note that: not just ordinary, common-or-garden, bog-standard conquerors, but conquerors-plus!] through him who loved us” (Romans 8:37).

Hit each new day right on the nose, Christian, and expect victory!

(4) A new peace (verse 5).

Liberation leads to peace. And so Isaiah foresees a day when all the horrible, ugly gear of war – muddy boots and “every garment rolled in blood” (ugh!) will simply be tossed in the fire. (Earlier, in 2:4, he had seen swords recycled as ploughshares and spears as pruning hooks.)

True, Jesus said that right until the end of time there will be “wars and rumours of wars” (Mark 13:6). So we must expect that, as we see in our troubled world today.

But the gift of peace with God is planted in our hearts as we trust in Jesus; it’s part of our birthright in him. So in spite of all the tensions, troubles and anxieties of life, God’s children experience a deep underlying peace. And it’s a foretaste of the perfect peace which will one day be ours eternally.

Do you know “the peace of God that passes all understanding” (Philippians 4:7)?

(5) A new king (verses 6-7)

These two verses are the climax of the whole powerful prophecy.

The wonderful thing is that when all this comes to pass, it will not be through armies or kings or emperors but - through a child (verse 6)! “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given…”

Isaiah’s prophetic imagination bursts into flames as he piles up extraordinary titles with which to describe this child: “Wonderful counsellor, mighty God, everlasting father, prince of peace”.

The child will be a descendant of great King David (verse 7) – but whereas David’s kingdom ultimately came to nothing, of this kingdom “there will be no end”. And it will be a kingdom, not of military power or even of economic prosperity, but of “justice and righteousness”. It will be nothing less than God’s perfect, eternal kingdom.

So, a final question: Are we living, today and every day, as true citizens of this kingdom? Or are we still floundering in the darkness?

In spite of wars and tensions – in spite of the coronavirus! – we who follow Jesus have much to celebrate this Christmas time!

And just in case we are tempted to doubt, let’s not overlook the final, matter-of-fact statement of this great passage: “The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this”. Oh yes! when God starts something, we needn’t be in any doubt that he will finish it!

The child has been born… he was crucified… he rose again… and he will return in glory to wind up the affairs of this troubled world and gather to himself everyone whose trust in him.

Thanks be to God!

Lord God, thank you that the child Jesus has been born to me. May his light guide me, his joy cheer me, his victory empower me, his peace fill me, and may his kingdom of justice and righteousness be both my present aim and my final destination. Amen.

A waste of the vaccine?

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free… Luke 4:16-19

Did you watch those old people getting the coronavirus vaccine on television last night? The first to receive it was a woman of 90; and there was a man of 99. It was one of those lovely “Ah!” moments, wasn’t it?

My wife and I were certainly smiling. But as we turned to one another we both realised that there was a rather sheepish touch to our smiles. Each of us knew what the other was – rather guiltily - thinking (we have been married for forty years, after all). I might as well spell it out bluntly: “What a waste! For goodness’ sake, they’ll be dead soon. Those jabs could have been given to far more needy people”.

I stress that we did feel genuinely guilty, honestly! – we knew without any doubt that it was a wrong way to think. But…

There are countries in the world where elderly people like that would pretty much be left to fend for themselves, and if they don’t happen to make it, well, tough, but that’s life. They might be described as “past their sell-by date” or “on the scrap-heap”. I can only say how glad I am that I don’t live in such a country.

However far the United Kingdom may have drifted from its Christian moorings, in certain areas it is (if I may mix my metaphors) still drawing on spiritual capital from the past. And that spiritual capital includes the idea that every human being, old or young, rich or poor, clever or simple, is of infinite value in the eyes of God.

When Jesus began his earthly ministry in Nazareth he went one sabbath day to the synagogue, “as was his custom”. Invited to read the scriptures, and given the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, Luke tells us that “he found the place where it is written…”

That suggests that he wasn’t asked to read from Isaiah 61, but deliberately chose that particular passage. And what a passage it is! “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free…” (Luke 4:16-19).

All right, there’s no mention there of the elderly and frail. But there’s no doubt that the people listed are the ones who are, as we might say, “at the bottom of the pile”… the poor (completely dependent on “alms”, or charity); the prisoners; the blind (in times when, unlike today, loss of sight would leave people totally dependent on the kindness of others); the oppressed (a word that covers a multitude of conditions).

We have only to read our way through the Gospels to see how Jesus carried out this manifesto commitment, as we might call it. We see it perhaps particularly in his beautiful readiness to minister to people with leprosy, a disease which rendered people total outcasts from society.

In Luke’s next chapter we read these breath-takingly wonderful words: “While Jesus was in one of the towns, a man came along who was covered with leprosy. When he saw Jesus, he fell with his face to the ground and begged him, ‘Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.’ Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. ‘I am willing!’ he said.’ Be clean!’ And immediately the leprosy left him” (Luke 5:12-14).

Two things particularly strike me.

First, the man is described as “covered with leprosy” (literally “full of leprosy”). There speaks Doctor Luke! – as if wanting to emphasise the utterly desperate situation of this poor man. “Oppressed”, if ever anyone was; on the scrap-heap, if ever anyone was.

And second, Jesus touched him. What? What! This man was “unclean”, and horribly, disgustingly so: the people watching probably shuddered with horror as Jesus “reached out his hand” (can you picture it?). But that is what he did.

This is the Jesus we worship and love, the Jesus whose legacy still lives on even in our national psyche. There are two things more this means for us.

First, God help me never to despise or dismiss those at the bottom of the pile, whoever they may be, but to see them with the eyes of Jesus.

And second, God help me to believe that however old and past my sell-by date I may become, you still love me – and you still have a role for me to play in your purpose and plan.

I’m so glad those old people were given the vaccine, aren’t you?

Jesus, how lovely you are,/ You are so gentle, so pure and kind./ You shine as the morning star./ Jesus, how lovely you are. Amen. (Dave Bolton)

From darkness to light (1)

[Something a little different today. I was recently asked to preach on the second Sunday of Advent, and the passage given me was Isaiah 9:1-7. I felt it might be worth recycling the essence of that message as a blog. So forgive me, please, if this post is a bit more “sermony” than usual! I hope you might find it helpful, even though it means stretching over to a second instalment!]

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. Isaiah 9:2

It’s some 700 years before Christ, and the people of God in the little land of Judah are in deep trouble. They have wandered far from him, and are worshipping false gods. Oh, they are still carrying out their rituals and offering their sacrifices, no problem there, but it’s all false, shallow and meaningless. And Assyria, the major power at that time, is threatening to swallow them up.

Ahaz, King of Judah, is at his wits’ end. He has given a lead in the falling away from God (he “even sacrificed his son in the fire”, 2 Kings 16:3), and he foolishly hopes to save Judah by cosying up to the Assyrians.

In short, Judah is both rotting from within, like a piece of bad fruit, and also threatened from without.

So what does God do? He sends prophets. One of these is Isaiah, whose dramatic call to serve is told in chapter 6. His long book consists of a mixture of severe warnings – “If you don’t turn back to God you will be destroyed!” – and glowing encouragements – “If only you will repent there are great days ahead!”.

I’ve picked out just chapter 9 verse 2, a verse very familiar at this time of Advent, and one of the greatest in the Bible. But really we need to go back to at least 8:19 to get the full flavour of Isaiah’s words, and to see how the two themes are set side by side.

In 8:19-22 Isaiah launches an attack on what today we might call spiritism, the attempt to make contact with the dead in order to find out the meaning of what’s going on.

“How stupid can you get!” Isaiah exclaims. “Why not speak directly to the living God himself!” To act in this way, he says, is to flounder in darkness – the people “have no light of dawn” (verse 20), they “see only distress and darkness and fearful gloom, and they will be thrust into utter darkness” (verse 22).

I wonder if anyone reading this is involved in spiritism, witchcraft or other occult practices? If so, I can only urge you to take seriously the warning of Isaiah: these practices are dangerous, and are bound to lead to disaster. (The same warning is sounded also in passages like Deuteronomy 18:9-12.)

But then… in 9:1 the word “nevertheless” introduces a total change of key: “there will be no more gloom”. And in 9:2 Isaiah is so convinced about what the future holds that he speaks of it as if it has already happened: “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness light has dawned”.

When did Isaiah expect this prophecy to come true? We don’t know. He was probably thinking only in terms of Judah’s betrayal of God and the threat of the Assyrians. I doubt very much if he had a vision of Bethlehem, of Joseph and Mary, and of Jesus lying in the manger.

But in the light of Christ it’s impossible to read his words without thinking of Jesus, “the light of the world”. Isaiah spoke far more than he knew! And it’s no wonder that Matthew’s Gospel (4:12-16), introduces Jesus’ earthly ministry by quoting these verses. Ultimately the prophet is foretelling the light of Jesus.

Reading verses 1-7 we find that he foresees at least five wonderful things, and I would encourage you to dwell for a few moments on each one…

1. A new light (verses 1-2).

Human beings cannot live without light. We read in Genesis 1 that the first words God spoke in creation were “Let there be light…” When Jesus was born in Bethlehem his birthplace was marked by the shining of a star, and later he declared himself to be “the light of the world”. The apostle Peter tells us that if we are followers of Jesus we have been called “out of darkness into his wonderful light” (1 Peter 2:9).

The world in which we live is full of darkness: lies, violence, hatred, jealousy, lust, crime, war, you name it.

And we who are Christians don’t look, outwardly, very much different from anyone else. But in reality we are children of the light of God. Just as the moon reflects the light of the sun, so we reflect the light of Christ.

So, an obvious challenge arises: Am I aware of living day by day in the light of Christ? Is it my greatest desire to reflect his light to everyone I meet? 

2. A new joy (verse 3).

Isaiah foresees great prosperity leading to great joy: “You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy”. He compares God’s people to reapers gathering a bumper harvest, or soldiers dividing the spoils of battle.

Of course, the prosperity of Christians doesn’t take such a material form; indeed, when we give our lives to Jesus we may well end up far poorer in that respect. But the fact is that he promises his people something far better: true life, life lived in peace and harmony with God, “life in all its fulness” (John 10:10).

Do I expect, day by day, to enjoy the fulness of life only Christ can give?

A new light, and a new joy… please join me next time for the other three things Isaiah sees…

Father, thank you that as Christmas draws near we can focus on Jesus the light of the world. Thank you that by faith in him we have come out of the darkness of sin and into the light of your holiness. Please chase all darkness from my life and character, and enable me to reflect your wonderful light. Amen.

Charlie Brown, King Jehoiakim and Governor Felix

Whenever Jehudi had read three or four columns of the scroll, the king cut them off with a scribe’s knife and threw them into the brazier, until the whole scroll was burned in the fire… Jeremiah 36:23

As Paul talked about righteousness, self-control and the judgment to come, Felix was afraid and said, ‘That’s enough for now! You may leave. When I find it convenient, I will send for you’. Acts 24:25

I have a vague yet still vivid memory of one of those wonderful “Peanuts” cartoons from years ago. Poor, hapless Charlie Brown is somersaulting backwards in mid-air having been thumped on the nose by that bolshie girl Lucy. And Lucy looks at you (not seeming particularly apologetic) and explains, “I had to hit him quick – he was beginning to make sense”.

So?

Well, have you ever closed your Bible when you saw that a passage was coming up which might tell you something you would really rather not hear? Or switched off from a sermon when the preacher was getting a bit close for comfort?

I imagine those of us who take Bible reading seriously often pray, “Lord, please speak to me today as I come to your word”. Very good, of course. But it can be rather a dangerous thing to pray. What if God does speak to me – and I don’t like what he says? What if he puts his finger on some secret sin? What if he calls me to some task I really have no stomach for?

The apostle Paul was up before the Roman governor Felix, whose wife Drusilla was Jewish. Knowing that Christianity had emerged directly out of Judaism, Felix was interested to hear what Paul had to say: “He sent for Paul and listened as he spoke about faith in Jesus Christ”. That sounds promising, doesn’t it?

But then: “As Paul talked about righteousness, self-control and the judgment to come, Felix was afraid and said, ‘That’s enough for now! You may leave. When I find it convenient, I will send for you’” (Acts 24:24-26). In Lucy-terms, “I had to hit him quick – he was beginning to make sense”.

Jehoiakim, King of Judah, learns that the prophet Jeremiah has been preaching in Jerusalem. His words have been written down by his scribe Baruch, so the king asks one of his officials, Jehudi, to read them to him. That sounds good!

But then: “Whenever Jehudi had read three or four columns of the scroll, the king cut them off with a scribe’s knife and threw them into the brazier, until the whole scroll was burned in the fire” (Jeremiah 36).

We instinctively respond, “Not so fast, Jehoiakim! God’s word can’t be disposed of as conveniently as that!” And, sure enough, no sooner had this happened than “Jeremiah took another scroll and gave it to the scribe Baruch son of Neriah, and as Jeremiah dictated, Baruch wrote on it all the words of the scroll that Jehoiakim… had burnt”. (And, for good measure, “many similar words were added to them” - Jehoiakim’s contemptuous dismissal was repaid with interest!)

The Bible isn’t always an easy book. Let’s be honest about that fact. Indeed, let’s go even further and admit that there are parts of it that, deep down, we sometimes rather wish weren’t there at all - either (a) we just don’t understand them; or (b) we do understand them but don’t see their relevance; or (c), worst of all, we understand them but find that they make us uncomfortable, and we would like them to go away, please.

But they’re not going to go away. Martin Luther famously dismissed the New Testament letter of James as worthless rubbish (an “epistle of straw”), and he was a man of massive influence. But the letter of James remains exactly where it was (thank God), tucked away near the end of the New Testament – and, in spite of Herr Luther, untold generations of Christians have found it to be rich in meaning and truth.

The fact is this: very likely it’s the bits I subconsciously avoid that are the very ones I most need if I am to grow in understanding and maturity.

Perhaps, say, I have absorbed a particular view of the return of Jesus at end of the world, or of how the Holy Spirit operates, or of the role of the sexes in the church, or of the tension between predestination and human free will – so much so that I have become blinkered and lop-sided. Is it time I took a deep breath and started to grapple with the parts of scripture which might suggest a different angle?

Or, at a much simpler level, have I spent too much of my Christian life over-dosing on Psalm 23, and John 3:16, and the Beatitudes, and 1 Corinthians 13, and a multitude of those other rich and nourishing passages? And is it high time I rolled up my sleeves and got to grips with Amos, or Ecclesiastes, or Hebrews, or yes, even Revelation.

One thing we can be sure of: God would prefer the Bible-reader who is humble enough to honestly say, “Lord, I’m sorry, but I really do find this hard to come to terms with” than the one who stubbornly sticks to the “easy” or “nice” bits.

God’s word isn’t going to go away – any more than the truths Charlie Brown was telling Lucy were going to go away. So if we are serious about growing into spiritual maturity, wouldn’t we be well-advised to face that fact?

Father, thank you for those wonderful parts of your word that have nourished, strengthened and comforted me throughout my Christian life. But please save me from subconsciously avoiding the parts I find less congenial. Teach me to love your word in its fulness, to absorb the whole spectrum of its truth, and so to grow in grace and in the knowledge of the Lord. Amen.

A bad memory

The fruit of the Spirit is…kindness… Galatians 5:22

I’m sitting on a bench by the river in San Antonio, Texas. I’m only here for a week; the friends I’m staying with are both at work, so I’m just having a stroll and soaking up the warmth and the atmosphere.

A man comes and sits next to me. He turns out to be what once might have been called a “rough diamond” – well, rough anyway; not sure about the other bit. We get chatting.

Someone approaches our bench from behind. Looking round I see a young woman who is obviously in great need. I know nothing about drugs and their symptoms, but something about her eyes and her general demeanour alerts me immediately.

“Excuse me,” she says, “I’m not going to ask you for money…”

Whereupon… “Beat it, or I’ll call the cops…” So bursts out my new friend with frightening, cruel viciousness.

“Beating it” is exactly what she does. I’ve never seen a whipped dog – not, at least, until this moment. She slinks off, her head sunk, her shoulders bent.

My friend resumes our friendly conversation…

This happened some fifteen years ago. It took perhaps ten seconds all told, but I’ve never forgotten it. And it never fails to fill me with shame - because I did nothing.

A thousand thoughts ran through my head in a split second… It all happened so quickly!… I was in a state of shock, it was so utterly unexpected... This isn’t my country, I’m a visitor here, it’s not for me to interfere… Perhaps this is the way things are done here… What could I do anyway? – I’m in no position to help her… Perhaps she is a well-known local character who has exhausted many attempts to help her…

But it didn’t take me long to realise that all that is just feeble excuses.

Oh, why didn’t I jump up, ask my friend to excuse me, run after her and at least show some kind of concern, let her know how sorry I was about what had happened? Why not show just a touch of kindness? At least that would be better than nothing. “Mere gestures” aren’t always “mere” are they? They can make a real difference.

Who knows? Such a little show of kindness might have changed that woman’s life for ever, given her a new hope, saved her even from killing herself, for all I know. Of course there’s no point in tormenting myself with what might have happened, but it’s hard not to ask the question.

And another question comes crowding in: that was an opportunity missed that I know about; but how many others have there been that I didn’t even notice? Why? Because I was too much wrapped up in my own affairs, too insensitive to the prompting of the Holy Spirit, just too plain uncaring.

Jesus told the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10). He “saw” the man lying beaten up by the roadside and “took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds…” How easily, instead of “seeing”, he could have turned a blind eye, like the priest and the Levite.

Paul encourages the believers in Galatia (Galatians 6:10): “As we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the household of believers”. (Note that “especially”; not “exclusively”: note that “all people”.)

Likewise in Ephesians 6:10 he urges his readers to “make the most of every opportunity” (to “redeem the time”, as the King James Version put it). We usually take this to mean opportunities for evangelism, and rightly so. But why not acts of kindness, mercy and generosity as well?

Many of us are frustrated by the pandemic situation we are having to put up with at the moment. “I’m just not able to do the things I normally do!” we say. We might even add, “I sometimes find it hard to fill the day.” But could it be that God is putting opportunities for acts of kindness and other forms of service in our way, if only we have the eyes to see them and the wills to take them up?

A message sent to someone… a greeting exchanged with a stranger… a word with the person at the supermarket check-out… an offer of practical help for someone unable to get out…

Kindness (isn’t it a beautiful word!) can take a million forms.

Open my eyes, Lord, to see the opportunities to show kindness that you put in my way. And quicken my will to take them up and act upon them. Amen.

A tormented heart

Blessed is the one whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. Blessed is the one whose sin the Lord does not count against them and in whose spirit is no deceit. When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy on me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer. Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord.” And you forgave the guilt of my sin. Psalm 32:1-5

A man in his fifties recently called the police and told them about a murder he had committed in his twenties. He has a terminal illness and doesn’t expect to live long, so he has decided there was “something I need to get off my chest”.

Well, I hope he finds some measure of peace, even if thirty years late.

Who knows, perhaps somebody might tell him about Christ, and the way his blood shed on the cross is enough to wash away all our sins.

Perhaps somebody might point him to a passage like Psalm 32, where the writer (traditionally thought to be King David) describes the agony of living with a guilty conscience: “When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me…”

Most of us can only imagine what it must be like to live a “normal” life with such a shadow on your conscience…

Can you ever be really happy? Perhaps you marry and have children – but as you experience the joys of parenthood, as you watch your children sleeping innocently at night, can you escape that gnarling memory? You succeed in your job and become rich and powerful, but in your deepest thoughts it’s just ashes in your mouth. You sit by a pool soaking up the sun on a wonderful luxury holiday, but even as you sip your drink that terrible haunting broods over you.

This is where verse 5 comes to us as the best news we can ever receive. Says David: “Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord.’ And you forgave the guilt of my sin.” How clear, how simple, can you get! God loves to forgive.

A person who has committed murder is obviously an extreme case. But in reality all of us are in the same situation. All of us “have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). Who has a perfectly clear conscience?

I think I can claim to have lived an averagely OK life; certainly a “respectable” one. But there’s no getting away from the fact that the older I get and, being retired, the more opportunity I have to take stock of the past – well, the less I like the person I have been, and to a large extent still am.

Oh, no murders or other gross sins, don’t worry about that! But didn’t Jesus teach that anger can be as bad as murder? that lust is tantamount to adultery (Matthew 5:21-30)?

And what about my acts of meanness and pettiness…? The jealousies and spiteful thoughts…? The arrogance and pride…? The tasks done half-heartedly or shoddily…? The laziness and selfishness…? The crude thoughts and flashes of temper…? The – oh, I could go on a long time! And so, I suspect (if you will pardon the cheek), could you.

The man I mentioned would probably have spent a major chunk of his life in prison if he had either confessed at the time or been found out. But I wonder if, given the way he’s feeling now with death approaching, he might have preferred that.

Somebody might object: This is all very well, but what about the person he killed? Going to the police now won’t do them any good, will it? A death-bed conversion, if that’s what it is, seems all too easy, too convenient.

That’s understandable. But while the murderer might escape human justice, he can’t escape the judgment of God. And if God knows that his heart is not truly sorry, then there will be no forgiveness.

There is a very big difference between repentance – true, heart-felt sorrow with a genuine desire to change and make amends, so far as that is possible – and remorse, which may be merely regret born of self-interest. We may not be able to tell the difference, looking on. But we needn’t doubt that God can. And as for the murder victim, what can we do but leave them in the hands of a perfect, just and holy God?

The point of all this is very simple: a guilty conscience on the one hand, and inner peace and happiness on the other, cannot co-exist. They are at war with one another. Even a true Christian flirting with sin is bound to be a miserable Christian, however big a smile they may put on.

If there is repenting to be done, the time to do it is now. Not tomorrow or next week, but now. And then we will be able to join in David’s joyful declaration: “Blessed is the one whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered!”

Blessed indeed!

Father, thank you for the word of Jesus that there is rejoicing in heaven over every sinner who repents. If there is anything of which I need to repent, please give me the honesty and humility to do so – and so to enter into the peace and joy which only you can give. Amen.

When we groan in prayer

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. Romans 8:26

King Claudius of Denmark is having a bad time. He has murdered his brother and taken both his throne and his widow. His nephew, Prince Hamlet, has made it clear that he knows all about it. Claudius is afraid: “O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven”. And so he kneels to pray.

But he can’t. Oh, he can utter the words all right; but he knows that unless he confesses both to God and to his fellow-men what he has done, his prayers are a waste of time; they simply bounce off the ceiling. And so he rises from his knees: “My words fly up, my thoughts remain below./ Words without thoughts never to heaven go.”

Well, you don’t need to be a murderer to know that feeling. If your heart isn’t in what you are praying you are wasting your time. C S Lewis put it well: you might as well train a parrot to say your prayers for you.

But wait a minute. Suppose we reverse what Claudius says – instead of “words without thoughts never to heaven go”, what about “thoughts without words often to heaven go”?

Is that true? Putting it another way, are words essential to prayer?

According to the Bible, the answer is a definite No.

In Romans 8:26 Paul makes it very clear that there are times when we just don’t have the words. Perhaps we don’t know enough about the situation that’s troubling us. Perhaps we are feeling crushed in spirit and can’t conjure up the words we need to express what’s going on in our hearts. Perhaps we are simply dog-tired with the pressures of life. Perhaps the best we can do is “groan”.

If that is so, Paul has a massively encouraging thing to say: the Holy Spirit within us turns our groanings into prayers that God our Father hears, understands and responds to. He “intercedes for us through wordless groans”.

Words can be highly over-valued things! Of course, under normal circumstances they are vital: they are the most natural and obvious way in which we communicate with one another, and, of course, with God himself.

But they are not essential.

We hear a lot these days about “body language”, and is there any reason why groans, tears, cries, sighs, even shoulder-shrugging and fist-shaking, shouldn’t come under that heading?

I knew a man who had lived for many years with severe physical pain. It got to such a pitch one day that he lay down on his living-room floor and – to use his own words – “howled at God”. He got up free of pain.

I’m not suggesting, of course, that howling at God – or any other action - is a guaranteed way of getting our prayers answered. Of course not! But – well, if I remember right, that’s what he told me.

There are times and circumstances for long, sustained praying, perhaps accompanied by fasting. But we needn’t be too hard on ourselves if that is not our everyday pattern. I have just counted the number of words in the Lord’s Prayer in my NIV Bible: around seventy. Next to nothing! (This post you’re reading will probably run to about eight hundred.) And this is the “model” prayer Jesus gave to his disciples! You can pray it, in an unhurried way, well within a minute!

But let’s go back to groaning (so to speak). This is a very unusual New Testament word, occurring about half a dozen times. But it obviously mattered to Paul. In Romans 8 it occurs here in verse 26, and also in verse 23, as something Christians routinely do. In verse 22 it is used of “the whole creation”, which is “groaning in the pains of childbirth”: as if to say that our fallen, sinful, hurting world is moving towards something beautiful, new and wonderful.

But I specially like the occurrence in Acts 7:34. Stephen, who is about to be stoned to death, takes his persecutors back to the time of Moses and the Exodus, and quotes God as saying: “I have seen the oppression of my people in Egypt. I have heard their groaning…” (You can find the reference in Exodus 3.)

God doesn’t say he has heard their words, their prayers – though I’m sure he has. No, he says he has heard their groaning.

What need is there to say more? If God heard the groaning of his people in Moses’ time, some thirteen hundred years before Christ, and again in the days of the early church, why should we doubt that he still hears them today?

Christian, use words in order to talk to God. Of course! But if, for whatever reason, you can’t find the words, don’t doubt that God loves you, hears you, and will answer even your wordless groanings.

Father in heaven, please fill me more and more with your Holy Spirit, and so teach me better how to pray - whether with words or without them. Amen.