A little food for thought?

As I have often told you before and now tell you again even with tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven. Philippians 3:18-20

How many hundreds of times I must have read these verses over the years! – including the reference to people “whose god is their stomach” –  without ever really giving much thought to who these people actually were.

Is Paul talking simply about people who are greedy and over-indulgent? – about the sin of gluttony? Or is he, in a more religious context, referring to people who are too concerned about the dietary laws of the Old Testament, as Paul himself once was?

The experts disagree. Personally I have tended to go, albeit rather vaguely, for option one: he’s talking about people whose bodily appetites in general, and food in particular, dominate their lives, people whose minds are “set on earthly things”. But who knows?

Whatever, these words came irresistibly to mind when I was reading the paper this morning. There were several letters about the anti-obesity drive being promoted by Boris Johnson and his government, and one in particular struck me as so good that I wanted to share it. It’s from a lady called Caroline Cochrane; I’ll quote it in full…

Increasingly it seems that our diets have little to do with hunger and everything to do with entertainment. Food has become a work of art, presented as such on television, conversed about on radio and reviewed and lavishly depicted in newspapers, books and magazines: no wonder we are obsessed with titillating our appetites. We ought to find other, more demanding concerns; I’ve yet to see a single photograph of an overweight refugee.

I’ve no idea who Ms Cochrane is: but “Good for you!” I thought.

Food is, of course, a gift of God, to be received with gratitude and enjoyed (see, for example, 1 Timothy 4:3). And surely there’s nothing wrong with it being made attractive and appetising. But, like all good things, it can get out of hand and take a place in our lives which verges on idolatry. As Paul reminds us, “Our citizenship is in heaven”.

A challenge to us all – me certainly included!

Thank you, Father, for the wonderful provision you make for my physical needs. Please help me to maintain an attitude to food which is healthy both physically and spiritually. Help me too to show compassion and generosity to those who are poor and hungry. Amen.

When Jesus seems to frown (2)

Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.” Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.”

He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said. He replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” “True, Lord,” she said. “Yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

Then Jesus said to her, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed at that moment. Matthew 15:21-28

I said last time that there were a couple of questions which might help us to make sense of this puzzling story.

The first was: Why was Jesus so reluctant to heal the woman’s daughter? And my suggestion was that it was to do with timing: Jesus, during his earthly ministry, was mainly concerned with his own people – he was the Jewish Messiah for the Jewish people, and the non-Jews, the Gentiles, must wait till the time was right.

This led to a challenge: how careful are we to keep in step with God as we live out our lives? Are we guilty of either running before him or lagging behind him? – either can be disastrous.

The second question, the more important one, is: What caused Jesus to change his mind? We read in verse 28: “Then Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.’ And her daughter was healed at that moment”. What a contrast to verses 23-24!

The key, of course, is those simple words: “Woman, you have great faith!” Jesus’ reluctance melts away when he is confronted by her strong and determined faith.

This is part of a pattern in the Gospels: great faith delights Jesus’ heart and moves him to action. A very similar thing occurs with the Roman centurion in Matthew 8 – the man whose faith, quick-witted and sparky, “amazed” Jesus. In a sense, once we have grasped this truth we have grasped the essence of such stories. So we are challenged to ask ourselves: what kind of faith do I have?

That seems straightforward enough, but even now there are one or two other questions which pop their heads up.

First, does this mean that we too should routinely expect miraculous healings in response to our faith? There are Christians who say, “If only you had more faith you too would see wonderful supernatural answers to prayers”. Are they right?

No, I don’t think so. It’s certainly true that in the Bible we find many examples of miracles in answer to prayer. But the fact is that these miracles tend to occur in clusters – Moses and the exodus, for example; the ministries of Elijah and Elisha; supremely, here, the ministry of Jesus; the events of Pentecost and the early part of Acts. But the suggestion that the Bible has miracles on just about every page is simply not true.

Indeed, there are clear instances where Spirit-filled Christians obviously didn’t expect miraculous intervention.

No-one could accuse Paul of weak faith. Yet in 2 Corinthians 12:1-10 he accepts that God is not going to take away his “thorn in the flesh”; in 2 Timothy 4:20 he tells Timothy that “I left Trophimus ill in Miletus”; and in 1 Timothy 5:23 he advises his young friend to “stop drinking only water, but use a little wine because of your stomach and your frequent illnesses”. He clearly doesn’t expect miraculous intervention.

Perhaps we can sum it up like this: We mustn’t doubt that God can do miracles in our day. But neither must we presume that he will if only we have enough faith. God cannot be manipulated, not even by great faith!

A second question arising from Jesus’ treatment of the Canaanite woman: How do we square his delight in her faith with his teaching a couple of chapters later that “faith as small as a grain of mustard seed” can move mountains (Matthew 17:20)? Is there a contradiction here?

Again, no, I don’t think so. True, Jesus does commend both the woman and people like the centurion for their “great” faith. We should all be keen to develop a greater faith. But it seems that what particularly delighted him was the nature of that faith – the way they both looked him in the eye, so to speak, and stood up to him; the way they refused to take no for an answer.

The Canaanite woman is a wonderful mix of humility – “all right, Lord, let’s agree that I’m little more than a dog” – and what I can only call boldness bordering on cheek – “but we dogs do have a habit of snatching up the scraps, you know!” In modern parlance you might say that this is one feisty woman.

Whether that’s right or wrong, I think her faith can only encourage us to be… what word shall I use?… a little bit brazen. When did you or I last “amaze” Jesus with our faith? Are we, perhaps, rather tame when we draw near to God in prayer? Think of the way Job stood boldly up to God! And what about those moments (eg, Psalm 44:23) when the psalmist roundly tells God it’s time he woke himself up!

Of course we must always be reverent. But the Canaanite woman shows us that God’s shoulders are big enough to cope with a bit of our passion! Is it time we followed her example?

Father, thank you that even when in need of rest and quiet Jesus was still prepared to minister to the needs of those who came to him in faith. Thank you that you are never too busy to hear our prayers. Give us, we pray, the kind of faith the woman in the story had! Amen.

When Jesus seems to frown

Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.” Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.”

He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said. He replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” “True, Lord,” she said. “Yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

Then Jesus said to her, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed at that moment. Matthew 15:21-28

The more you look at this story, the more puzzling it becomes – so I find, anyway.

Jesus has travelled some distance from his usual stamping ground (Mark, in his rather different version of the story, tells us explicitly that he is looking for a little solitude). But his reputation has spread, and word gets around. So along comes a “Canaanite woman” – that is, a non-Jewish woman – who pleads desperately with him to heal her “demonised” daughter.

And Jesus ignores her! – he “did not answer a word”. And the disciples are heartless: Send her away! She’s getting to be a pest!

But she persists; whereupon Jesus tells her, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel”. And then, as if to make matters worse, he virtually calls her a dog: “It isn’t right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs”.

What! What!

Is this the Jesus who was soon to tell his disciples to “go into all the world and preach the gospel”? Is this the Jesus who demonstrated love for everyone without discrimination? Yet here he seems almost to be saying: “Sorry, but you aren’t a Jew, and therefore I can’t help you.” Is this really the Jesus we know so well?

Various commentators make suggestions (not counting the ones who suggest he was just grumpy and having a bad day, which surely goes against the Bible’s teaching that he was sinless). Was he testing and stretching her faith, perhaps? Did he speak mischievously, as one commentary puts it, “with a twinkle in his eye”?

I really don’t know. But I think a couple of questions can help us get into the heart of the story.

First, why was Jesus so reluctant to respond to this woman’s plea?

The answer can be summed up in one word: timing.

Jesus was very conscious that the plan of God for the salvation of the world was being worked out in stages. (Have you ever noticed how often, in John’s Gospel, he states that “My time has not yet come”?). And his role, during his earthly life, was to be God’s messenger – indeed, God’s king, the Messiah – to God’s special people, Israel: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel,” he plainly says (verse 24).

It was through them initially that the whole world was to be blessed. Only later, after his crucifixion and resurrection, and especially after the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, would the message of the gospel explode into the wider world. As Paul would later put it, the gospel is “first for the Jew, then for the Gentile” (Romans 1: 16).

Whether this is enough to excuse (if it needs excusing!) Jesus’ brusque behaviour is for each of us to decide.

What matters is that Jesus did respond to the woman’s cry. And, of course, the Gospels are simply full of examples of him displaying tenderness and love to anyone and everyone who reached out to him humbly and trustingly. As Wesley’s great hymn puts it: “Jesus, thou art all compassion,/ Pure, unbounded love thou art…” No single episode, however puzzling, can take away from that supreme truth!

I said earlier that I thought there were two questions which could help us make sense of this story. But I’m afraid I have run out of space – so I’ll have to come back to the second one, which is the more important one, next time.

But I think there is something else worth noticing first: if Jesus had a strong sense of God’s timing for his life, what about us?

I’m not, of course, putting us remotely on a par with him – of course not! But the fact is that God has a purpose and plan for the life of every Christian, and for every church and Christian organisation. And it’s important that we not only do the right things, but do them at the right time – which, of course, is God’s time.

Sad experience suggests that there are times when, hot-headed and reckless, we enthusiastically run ahead of God; and other times when, lacking zeal and openness to the Spirit, we lag behind. Each error leads to trouble, possibly disaster. I’m sure we can all think of examples from our own experience.

Thank God, it’s true that even when we do make mistakes like these, he in his mercy is willing and able to put us back on track: all is not lost!

But a lot of pain, damage and confusion can be saved if we are careful, as we live out our Christian lives, to seek God’s guidance step by step. As Paul puts it in Galatians 5:25: to “keep in step with the Spirit”.

Do that, and you won’t go far wrong, either in what you do, or in the timing with which you do it.

Lord Jesus, there are times when we find it hard to understand things you say and do, even times when you seem hard with us. Help us to keep our trust firmly in you, even when your smile seems hidden behind a frown. Amen.

When popularity is poisonous

A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold. Proverbs 22:1

Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you, for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets. Luke 6:26

“Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation, I have lost the immortal part of myself – and what remains is bestial…”

Poor Cassio! – you can’t help feeling sorry for him. He is Othello’s henchman, “an honourable lieutenant”, in Shakespeare’s play. But in a one-off lapse he allows himself to get involved in a drunken brawl, and Othello dismisses him on the spot. And so he cries out in remorse and self-pity: “I have lost my reputation!”

You can define reputation very simply as what other people think of you. Are you popular? respected? admired? Or are you the kind of person others shake their heads over? – “he really is his own worst enemy…”, “she doesn’t learn, does she?”

I’ve picked out two Bible verses about reputation which, on the face of it, flatly contradict one another.

On the one hand, Proverbs 22:1 tells us that “a good name is more desirable than great riches”. That’s not going quite as far, perhaps, as describing it with Cassio as “the immortal part of myself”, but it’s pretty extreme all the same.

Anyone who has “blotted their copybook”, especially in a very public way, will know exactly what Proverbs means. Who hasn’t, at some point or other in their life, thought “If only I could turn the clock back!”

That verse in Proverbs is borne out in various parts of the Bible. Paul, for example, advising Timothy about the choice of church leaders, says that they must “have a good reputation with outsiders” (1 Timothy 3:7). Luke tells us that the first followers of Jesus “enjoyed the favour of all the people” (Acts 2:47). A good reputation, it seems obvious, is something to be highly valued. And anyway, who doesn’t like being liked?

But then we find the words of Jesus in Luke 6:26: “Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you”. As if to say: “There’s something very wrong with you when you’re universally popular! – oh yes, having a good reputation may be very pleasant, but it really isn’t a good sign at all”.

A flat contradiction? What’s going on?

Luke 6:20-26 gives us Luke’s version of what in Matthew we often call “the beatitudes”. It’s much shorter than in Matthew, but most striking is that as well as the familiar “blesseds” – “blessed are the pure in heart” etc – Luke also gives a list of four “woes”. These woes have the effect of turning completely upside down the way we naturally think about life: “woe to you who are rich(!)… who are well fed(!) now… who laugh(!) now…”. And then “Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you”.

It’s as if Jesus is saying, “You really have got to start thinking in a completely new way. You must learn to turn your values, your priorities, on their heads. The kingdom of God just doesn’t operate in the same way as this fallen world. Get used to it!…”

So… does the Luke verse contradict the Proverbs verse? No, not at all.

As always when we read the Bible it’s important to read the whole context of a passage, not just snatching snippets from here, there and everywhere and setting them up as the final word.

The book of Proverbs is largely about character, and how important it is to build integrity, honesty, humility, compassion and all the other Christlike graces. It’s in this sense that “a good name is more desirable than great riches”. If every Christian was known to the outside world for these virtues wouldn’t our witness be truly powerful? Peter puts it perfectly: “Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God… “ (1 Peter 2:12).

But that kind of good reputation is exactly what Jesus isn’t talking about in Luke 6. No: after telling his followers that it’s not a good sign when “everyone speaks well of you”, he goes on: “…for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets”.

Ah! That’s the clue. The thing about the false prophets is that they earned their popularity by telling people what they wanted to hear, not by telling them the truth. And there’s plenty of that kind of thing in the Old Testament – Jeremiah 6:14 is a perfect example: “They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. ‘Peace, peace’, they say, when there is no peace”.

That’s where the challenge lies for us… In our natural desire to be liked, how easy it is to trim our principles and sacrifice our integrity – to go with the flow, as they say. Like those false prophets we buy popularity by speaking when we would do better to keep quiet – and by keeping quiet when we ought to speak out.

Anyone feeling a bit guilty? I certainly am. If so, I think Jesus’ words  suggest a very simple prayer…

O Lord, please help me to let my light shine before other people, so that while it’s my good deeds that they see, it’s your words that they hear and it’s you, my Father in heaven, whom they truly see, and to whom they give glory. Amen!

A blessing in disguise?

Do not get drunk on wine… Instead, be filled with the Spirit, speaking to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Ephesians 5:18-19

So… churches everywhere are starting to think about meeting together again as the lockdown eases. Everyone recognises that this has to be a very careful and cautious process. And one thing that seems to be clear is… no singing.

We might very well respond, “But I just can’t imagine coming together for worship without some form of music and singing! It’s something the church has done from the earliest days, and of course it’s right there in the Old Testament too”.

True enough, but if that’s the way it has to be, well, so be it. The church, over two thousand years, has come through far worse problems than that, so we mustn’t doubt that we will come through this too.

I do wonder, though, if this might actually be something we can benefit from.

Already churches are reporting unexpected blessings and opportunities that lockdown has brought; so why not also in this matter of services without song?

My thought (nothing particularly revolutionary) is this. If we can’t for the time being sing our songs and hymns, why don’t we read them? The reason this might be a blessing in disguise is that very often when we sing we fail to take any serious notice of the words. Because we’re enjoying the tune and being carried along by the music, the words just float over our heads.

Long before lockdown I have felt that this is a serious fault of many of us. The church has inherited a truly wonderful treasury of “psalms, hymns and spiritual songs” (as Paul calls them), but they are simply wasted on us. All right, a lot of worship material, both old and new, is pretty mediocre, to put it mildly; but boy there’s some good stuff there as well! Yet we fail to benefit from it – like people wandering around an art gallery and admiring the wall-paper instead of the paintings.

There’s a hymn we sing quite often (I might even say, ahem, very often) at our church which contains the lines “I dare not trust the sweetest frame,/ But wholly lean on Jesus' name.”

Walking home after the service in pre-pandemic days, my wife and I sometimes wondered what this “sweetest frame” was that we “dare nor trust”. Not a window-frame, presumably. A frame of mind, perhaps? That also seemed rather unlikely. Reading the rest of the hymn suggests that it’s a frame in the sense of something that offers you support, something you can lean on. Yes, that must be it. But it isn’t exactly obvious, is it?

Well, we decided to do what you might call a bit of consumer research, and asked some of our fellow-worshippers what they understood by it. And each time there was a blank look and, “Oh, I must admit I’d never really noticed that word… Yes, what does it mean?” Yet they had sung it many times.

I’m not criticising the hymn, of course. It’s a good hymn, though given that in its original form it’s nearly two hundred years old (written in 1836 by a minister called Edward Mote) it’s not surprising if it’s dated a bit.

No. The point is that our little experiment confirmed my suspicion: that very often we sing mindlessly - and therefore really might as well not bother.

Here’s my suggestion, then. Why not reduce the number of songs and hymns we include in our services, but focus on just three or four which we read out loud – perhaps individuals in the congregation could stand and read a verse each, with everyone joining in if there’s a chorus?

And then the musicians could play the tune while everyone “sings” the words internally, perhaps quietly humming along (lips clamped tightly together, of course).

That prompts another thought… Opera isn’t really my thing, but I do know one specially magical tune from Madame Butterfly by Giacomo Puccini. It’s known as “The Humming Chorus” because it is “sung” wordlessly. And it sounds wonderful. Mightn’t a similar thing add a whole new dimension to the way we worship? – assuming, as I say, that we have the words in front of us and are “singing” them in our minds and hearts.

Whether that’s a worthwhile suggestion or not, I’ll leave you to decide.

But the vital point remains… Let’s value our “psalms, hymns and spiritual songs” and not just take them for granted. Let’s honour those who wrote them in the past, and let’s pray for those who are writing them today. We’d be in a bad way without them!

And when the time eventually comes that we can again sing whole-heartedly, hopefully we might do so with a richer, deeper understanding

.

Father, thank you for the gift of music and for the vital place singing has in our worship. Thank you too for the rich heritage of psalms, hymns and spiritual songs that has been passed on to us from centuries gone by. And thank you for those whom you have gifted in producing such worship material today. Please help us to value it, and to make good use of it. Amen.

Looking facts in the face (2)

For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time for my departure is near. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing. 2 Timothy 4:6-8

Paul knows that his life on earth is coming to an end. In the verses just before these – verses 1-5 – he offers his protégé Timothy some advice to help him in his ministry, and now, in verses 6-8, he reflects on his own experience.

I said last time that I wanted to draw out three aspects of his attitude – first, his unflinching realism as he faces the prospect of death; second, his quiet satisfaction as he looks back on the fight he has fought, the race he has run, and the faith he has held on to; and third… but that was where I ran out of space.

So now, focussing on verse 8, the spotlight falls on the reward he is anticipating: “Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day”.

One thing is crystal clear: death is not the end! Paul believes that there is more “in store for” him, and he describes it as “the crown of righteousness”. That’s a striking expression.

Is he still thinking here of the running of a race? – for the word “crown” could apply to the wreath or garland that a successful athlete was awarded. Whatever, it is a trophy, a sign of distinction, honour and victory. And, of course, a sign of holiness – for it is the crown of righteousness.

Paul loves the word “righteousness” – you only have to skim through a chapter such as Romans 3 to see how much it means to him. We might take it as just a rather old-fashioned word for “goodness”, and sometimes in the Bible that is pretty much what it means. But in Paul’s eyes, and in general in the New Testament, it has a far richer significance than that.

We might sum it up by saying that righteousness is, first, a status we receive from God as a gift; and, second, an ideal towards which we must then strive.

To be righteous is, in essence, to be right with God: that is, to be forgiven by him and in a good relationship with him. Left to ourselves, though, this is impossible, because of the sin which forms a barrier between us and God, who is perfect and holy.

But the good news of the gospel is this: what we could never do for ourselves he himself has done on our behalf – according to Romans 3:21-22, a new, God-given righteousness is available to us “through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe”. Yes! Once you confess your sin and put your trust simply in Jesus – once you accept his sacrificial death on the cross as the price that had to be paid – the gift of righteousness is yours.

That’s the status part: you are, here and now, a forgiven sinner.

But once you have been made righteous in this way, you now need to become righteous. As it has sometimes been put, however odd it seems: we have to become in reality what we already are by faith. And this, of course, involves constant struggle and will-power: as Jesus himself put it, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness” (Matthew 5:6).

So there you have the ideal, something practical to aim for day by day.

You can put it in a nutshell like this: We seek righteousness not in order to be put right with God, but because we have been put right with him.

All this, and much more, is wrapped up in the image of the “crown of righteousness” which Paul looks forward to receiving once his earthly life is over. Going back to 2 Timothy 4, he sees himself being “awarded” it by “the Lord, the righteous judge”, that is, by Jesus himself.

When will this happen? Paul answers: “on that day” – that is, on the day Jesus returns in glory to wind up the affairs of our world.

But given that Paul has now been dead for nearly two thousand years, and given that “that day” still hasn’t happened, does that mean that he and the untold millions like him are still waiting in a kind of death-sleep? Or has he, by death, passed out of the realm of earthly time, so that for him it has already happened?

An interesting question. But not for now!

All that matters is that the resurrection life and the crown of righteousness are for “all who have longed for his appearing”, whether still alive today or long dead. “Not just me!” says Paul. No-one who trusts in Jesus will miss out!

Which leaves us with a challenging question – and a question that is very much for now: does that include you? and me?

Are you confident of one day receiving that beautiful crown of righteousness? You can be!

Father, thank you for the promise of eternal life. I know that I can never be worthy of the crown of righteousness, and that it can only ever be a gift. But help me to live day by in expectation of it, and to reflect the beauty of Jesus in all I do and say. Amen.

Looking facts in the face

For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time for my departure is near. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing. 2 Timothy 4:6-8

I like plain words. Indeed, I have to admit that it vaguely irritates me when people use complicated or fancy words when a perfectly straightforward one will do.

The way we talk about death is an example. In recent years, it seems, people no longer “die”; they “pass away” or, even worse, “pass”. All right, I suppose that to say someone has “died” can seem a little harsh; but if it’s the fact, why not say so?

That’s me, anyway.

But even if I’m contradicting myself, I can’t help making an exception for the apostle Paul! Writing to his younger protégé Timothy, he says, “I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time for my departure is near”. He could have said simply “I’m soon going to die”; but I’m pleased he chose to embellish it a bit, because his more elaborate wording is in fact full of good things.

Indeed, the whole of this little passage in 2 Timothy 4:6-8 is well worth digesting. I think it can only do us good if, as Christians, we keep it well in mind as we ourselves confront the reality that one day we must die.

Three things that stand out for me.

First, Paul is totally realistic.

There was a time when the great unmentionable subject was sex. Well, that’s certainly changed, hasn’t it! Now, if anything, it’s death: we talk in hushed whispers, if we talk at all. As somebody put it to me not long ago when it cropped up in our conversation, “Oh, I just don’t think about that kind of thing”. Denial: I think that’s the word, and it’s not healthy. And it certainly isn’t the Christian way.

In talking frankly and openly about his approaching death, the illustrations Paul uses aren’t ones that would spring naturally to my mind. But then I’m not a first-century Jew familiar with the practices of the people of Israel.

First, he compares himself to “a drink offering” being “poured out”, presumably on the altar of the temple in Jerusalem. In other words, he sees his whole life as an act of worship, an offering dedicated to the service of God: and he realises that the offering is now almost complete.

And then he talks about his “departure”. The word literally means “an unloosing”, as if he sees himself being finally set free from the shackles of this life.

I think it can only help us, to view death in these ways: first, a final, complete sacrifice; and second, a beautiful liberation. And to notice, of course, that there’s nothing remotely gloomy or pessimistic there!

The second thing that strikes me about these verses is that Paul seems quietly confident. I don’t detect any note of pride or self-satisfaction – Paul, as we know from his letters, was only too aware of his own weaknesses and failings – but he states as a simple fact, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith”.

Now, if Paul comparing himself to a “drink offering” seems to us a little strange, that certainly can’t be said of these three images! No, what could be more straightforward? If the Christian life is a battle (he says) – well, I’ve fought it! If it’s a race – well, I’ve run it! If it’s something to hold on to – well, I’ve hung on to it!

All dates are approximate, but it seems likely that Paul (“Saul of Tarsus” as he was originally known) was born between 5 and 10 AD; that he was converted, on the road to Damascus, around 35; and that he died around 65. That means he had 30 or so years of Christian life and service – and you only need to read the book of Acts to see what extraordinary, exhausting, action-packed years they were. No wonder that now, writing to Timothy, he is well ready to go.

Well, I’ve had a bit longer than Paul; you may have had somewhat less. But the length of time isn’t what matters (Stephen, who we meet in Acts 6-7, didn’t have long, did he?).

What matters is that Paul offers us something we can aim for: to get to the end of our days and be able to echo his words. Do I have the courage of a fighter? the discipline of a runner? the tenacity of a keeper-goer? When I get to the end, will I hear the voice of Jesus: “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21)?

I said I wanted to highlight three things from these verses that stand out for me. But I’ve run out of space, so I’ll have to keep number three up my sleeve until next time…

But I think there’s enough already to prompt such a prayer as this…

Father God, thank you that through Jesus death is a defeated enemy. As I confront the fact of my own mortality, grant me strong faith, true peace, and a determination to serve you whole-heartedly until that day when I will see Jesus face to face. Amen.

Why did you do that!

All a person’s ways seem pure to them, but motives are weighed by the Lord. Proverbs 16:2 (NIV)

Humans are satisfied with whatever looks good; God probes for what is good. Proverbs 16:2 (The Message)

“It ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it…” So ran the opening line of a once-popular song.

There’s a real truth there. The way you do a thing can make all the difference: do you do it grumblingly and grudgingly, or cheerfully and willingly? conscientiously or carelessly? Psalm 100:2, for example, tells us to “worship the Lord with gladness”, and every time I read that verse I feel like adding “or don’t bother to worship him at all” – because, make no mistake, he won’t be listening.

So… there’s a challenge for us all straight away.

But I want to go a step further. I think that song-line suggests an even more important truth: It ain’t just the way you do something, it’s also the reason you do it. It ain’t just your manner – it’s also your motive.

That’s what Proverbs 16:2 is about. I like the translation given in The Message: “Humans are satisfied with what looks good: God probes for what is good”. Yes, appearance  is one thing; reality may be something very different.

In TS Eliot’s powerful play Murder in the Cathedral, “doing the right deed for the wrong reason” is described as “the worst treason”. The speaker is Archbishop Thomas Becket, who knew that he was very likely to be cut down by the swords of King Henry ll’s knights for standing up to him. Is it possible, he wonders, that even such a wonderful act as martyrdom – the supreme sacrifice! – can be tainted by the wrong motive? And he decides that it is…

The word “motive” doesn’t crop up very often in the Bible. But there’s no doubt that the idea is there as a common thread. Indeed, whenever the Bible talks about “the heart”, it’s very likely talking about motives. The prophet Samuel, for example, called by God to anoint the next king of Israel, is told: “Don’t consider his appearance or his height… The Lord doesn’t look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).

And Jesus, of course, is blunt in condemning people who do the right deed for the wrong reason. That’s the message of Matthew 6:1-18. You’re “giving to the needy” (verse 2)? Great – but don’t make a song and dance about it. You’re “praying” (verse 5)? Very good – but do it quietly and privately. You’re “fasting” (verse 16)? Well done – but do it with a cheerful face.

Don’t do good deeds in order to make a display of what a wonderfully spiritual person you are!

If we ask, “But what constitutes a right reason, a good motive?” there’s no better place to look than 1 Corinthians 13 – Paul’s great poem about love. Nothing, he says – not even speaking in tongues, or prophesying, or explaining deep mysteries, or moving mountains by my faith, or giving away all my wealth – no, nothing at all is worth a scrap if love isn’t my motive. And (going back to Thomas Becket) that applies too to martyrdom: “…even if I hand over my body to be burned…” (verse 3, according to some translations).

If we then go on to ask, “Love for what, or who?” the answer of course can only be, “Love for God”. And that may take many practical forms – a love of justice, perhaps; a love of my neighbour; a love for the needy; a love of peace; a love for creation; a love for someone who hates me. Almost anything, indeed, apart from a love of my own reputation.

One of our problems, especially perhaps in our western world, is that we worry far too much about what other people think of us. And we Christians can unthinkingly get sucked into that mentality.

I used to work one day a week as a hospital chaplain. One person I got friendly with was one of the porters – always cheerful and ready for a bit of banter. I ran into him one day and did what I think is known as a double-take: was it really him? He seemed different somehow.

“Hallo! Have you had your hair cut?” I said, though it was certainly more than that. To which he replied “Yes, I decided it was time I changed my image”.

Time I changed my image. What a give-away phrase! I went away shaking my head and, to be honest, feeling rather sorry for him. But it soon occurred to me that, though I would never use such an expression myself, wasn’t I just as guilty of wondering what my “image” might be in the eyes of those who knew me? And just how much I did in order to gain peoples’ good opinion? Hypocrite!

Living the Christian life can be pretty accurately summed up as: Be like Christ – and be yourself. For, in the words of Thomas a Kempis (died 1471), “Man sees your actions, but God your motives”.

Father, help me to take seriously the fact that “motives are weighed by the Lord”. And so grant that, more and more and day by day, the inner me and the outer me will be one and the same person. Amen.

To think about, perhaps, if you have an idle moment: Which is worse, to do a good thing for a bad reason, or not to do it at all? I would love to know what you think…