Thinking about dying

Then I heard a voice from heaven say, ‘Write this: blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on’. Revelation 14:13

We had a chat recently about dying, my wife and I. Which of us would go first? In what form would it claim us? Would it be very painful and distressing, or would we be spared suffering?

I can’t remember now what prompted our conversation – perhaps the death of a friend, or the fact that we had chalked up 40 years of marriage. It wasn’t a long conversation, and in no way morbid; in fact we managed without any difficulty to find some aspects to laugh about. I think it was a healthy conversation to have – not trying to hide away from a topic that we all find unwelcome, but looking it fair and square in the face.

The New Testament is not just up-front about death, it positively shakes its fist at it: “Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?... Thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:54-57). So exclaims the apostle Paul, quoting from Isaiah 25 and Hosea 13.

Even more striking, there is that moment when he plainly states that he has reached the point where death, for him, would be preferable to staying alive: “… to me, to live is Christ, to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). To die is gain! What a thing to say! Can he say it because he is so exceptionally “spiritual”? Or is he simply, after many years of suffering for Christ’s sake, his body battered and beaten, his mind worn down, simply – well, ready to go?

We don’t know. But what we do know is that he looked into the face of death with strong confidence. And if him, why not us too?

I don’t mean, of course, to make light of death – please don’t think that. Death is a horrible thing, and it’s entirely natural that for most of our lives we shrink from it. Paul may describe it as “the last enemy” (1 Corinthians 15:26), but enemy is the word he uses! I’m conscious that there may be some reading this for whom death is a very present enemy, and certainly no laughing matter.

(I’ve never been quite comfortable with that verse of Francis of Assisi’s great hymn, “And thou, most kind and gentle death,/ Waiting to hush our latest breath”. For many, death comes as anything but “kind and gentle”. And I’m always grateful for the little detail Luke gives us in Acts 8:2, that after the stoning of Stephen, “Godly men buried him and mourned deeply for him”. They knew he had gone to be with Jesus, but that didn’t stop them feeling the bitterness of death – they didn’t cry “Praise the Lord!” and dance a jig.)

Death is best looked full in the face. Let me share three scenarios from my own experience…

First: a sitting room where an elderly man is rapidly approaching death, and some neighbours have come round to offer support. They’re kind, well-meaning people, but, I have to admit, I find myself getting more and more cross. “Oh, we’ll soon have you up and running around again, old chap!” – that’s the form their comfort takes. And I’m sitting there thinking “Oh, stop it! What’s the point of this? The dear man is dying. And he knows he’s dying. His wife and family know he’s dying. And you know he’s dying. Stop this pretence!” I don’t say it, but that’s the way I’m thinking. (Easy for me, of course.)

Second: another sitting room where a really elderly lady welcomes me. She hasn’t been out of the house for some years, and her body has pretty well closed down. We always pray for a few moments before I leave, and she says: “Oh, Colin, please pray that the Lord will take me!” Which, of course, I gladly do. And which, of course, he gladly does (though not quite immediately!).

Third: a young married woman has been fighting terminal illness for several years. She has received the best treatment available, and been loved and prayed for by her family, church and friends. But it’s clear the time is approaching.

So she and her husband arrange occasional “Getting ready for heaven” parties. I personally never attended one, so I can’t vouch for what went on. But I have a pretty good idea: nice food and drink; plenty of chat and laughter; plenty of prayer. And, I suspect, not a few tears.

What a difference Jesus makes!

No, death is never easy. But if we belong to Christ, the crucified and risen one, how can we not approach it with faith, however faltering, and with hope, however fragile?

May God help us to cling to the clear promise of his word: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Revelation 21:4).

Thanks be to God!

Loving heavenly Father, thank you that Jesus conquered death, and that by faith in him I share in his victory. May that peace and hope fill my heart until the day when I see him face to face. Amen.

God's new start (4) Samuel

The Lord was with Samuel as he grew up, and he let none of Samuel’s words fall to the ground. And all Israel from Dan to Beersheba recognized that Samuel was attested as a prophet of the Lord. The Lord continued to appear at Shiloh, and there he revealed himself to Samuel through his word. And Samuel’s word came to all Israel. 1 Samuel 3:19-4:1

We have followed the story of Hannah and her husband Elkanah, of Eli the tragic priest of Israel and his corrupt sons, and of Samuel, the baby born to Hannah as an answer to her prayers (his name sounds like “heard by God”.

And so God’s new start gets under way, and everything is fresh for the people of Israel.

Now it’s true, of course, that God doesn’t repeat himself in history; yet I think we can pick out of this story certain features of what has sometimes been called “revival”. If we pray again for God’s renewal in our own time there are various things we are likely to see… 

1. It starts small.

The new start of 1 Samuel 3 had its origin in an ordinary Israelite family – an otherwise unknown woman in great emotional distress who cries out to God, and a husband who stands by her and tries hard to comfort her. We’re not talking here about great prophets or preachers or charismatic personalities (that comes later).

This is a pattern which is often repeated – think of Moses the baby left to drown in the River Nile, or David the last of Jesse’s sons, or Simon the Galilean fishermen. No blasts of trumpets or shouts of rejoicing; just God working his eternal purposes out through the most ordinary of people. Not to forget, of course, the baby born to a peasant girl and laid in a manger.

Any family – or individual – could be the starting-point of a new initiative of God. Could that be you or me?

2.   2. It involves sacrifice.

How wonderful it must have been when Hannah found she was pregnant! Yes, indeed. But wait a minute: there was a heavy price to pay – that longed-for child was dedicated to the service of God in the temple at Shiloh, so her parents didn’t have the joy of seeing him grow up at home in those early days. Oh yes, they visited him, of course; but is that the same?

To be ambitious for the glory of God is a great thing. But let’s not be naïve. Read not only the Bible but also church history, and you see the sheer sufferings of men and women who were specially used by God. And again, read about Jesus and his cross.

3.  3.  It calls for deep personal holiness.

When Samuel first went to serve Eli at Shiloh he was still a child, in days when “the word of the Lord was rare; there were not many visions” (1 Samuel 3:1). But he heard the voice of God – “Samuel! Samuel!” – and responded to it; something he never stopped doing till the day he died.

It’s no coincidence that God called a child: all innocence and teachability. We easily become cynical and world-weary as we grow up – the very opposite of “pure in heart”, to use Jesus’ expression. And didn’t Jesus say plainly that, in order simply to enter the kingdom of God, we must become like little children? Do you still have a child-like faith? Do I?

4.   4.   It doesn’t happen all at once.

In 1 Samuel 3 Samuel is still a young boy; and we don’t meet him again until chapter 7, as a grown man. Of course, he needed to do some growing up before God could really use him!

It’s true that revivals sometimes burst right out of the blue – the Day of Pentecost and the baptising of the Holy Spirit is the classic example. But even very sudden revivals have been prepared by God quietly and unnoticed, perhaps for many years. So keep persevering in prayer.

The writer of 1 Samuel 3 does give us a brief progress report at the end of chapter 3: “The Lord was with Samuel as he grew up… All Israel from Dan to Beersheba recognised that Samuel was attested as a prophet of the Lord… And Samuel’s word came to all Israel.” God has his own sense of timing - and he can’t be hurried!

5.   5.   It is centred on God’s word.

The God of the Bible is a God who speaks; and his word has life and power. I love the little expression we find in 3:19: God “let none of Samuel’s words fall to the ground.” His words hit home; none of them were wasted or barren; they stirred people’s hearts and challenged their minds.

It was said of Jesus that “he taught as one that had authority, and not as their teachers of the law” (Matthew 7:29), and I think that the Old Testament writer means exactly the same thing of Samuel. No boring, tedious diatribes, but living words uttered in the fresh power of the Holy Spirit! Oh for more of that today!

So… a renewal begins: the old gives way to the new, and it won’t be long before David arrives on the scene.

But, sadly, we have to finish on an unhappy note. I invite you to fast-forward to chapter 8 and verses 1-3. It doesn’t seem as if Samuel’s sons were as bad as Eli’s, but…

Which serves to remind us that renewal is something we constantly need, never something we can take for granted or count on.

Living Lord God, please come on your church today in fresh power and vitality. And, if it is your will, please make me part of the process, however great the cost may be. Amen.

God's new start (3) Eli and Ichabod

The man who brought the news replied, ‘Israel fled before the Philistines, and the army has suffered heavy losses. Also your two sons, Hophni and Phinehas, are dead, and the ark of God has been captured’. When he mentioned the ark of God, Eli fell backwards off his chair. His neck was broken and he died, for he was an old man and he was heavy. He had led Israel for forty years. 1 Samuel 4:17-18

The daughter-in-law of Israel’s priest Eli died giving birth to a baby boy. The last thing she did was to give him his name: Ichabod, which means “Glory gone!” (1 Samuel 4:19-22). Poor child! What must it have been like to live with such a name?

Her reason, though, was clear. Her husband, Phinehas, had been killed in battle against the Philistines; Eli, old and nearly blind, fell, broke his neck and died on hearing the news; and worst of all, God’s covenant box – the Ark – had been seized by the Philistines and installed in Ashdod in the temple of their god Dagon.

As far as she was concerned, if the Ark of the Covenant was gone, then God was gone. And if God was gone, then all the glory of Israel had also gone. It seems she died in despair.

Of course, God hadn’t gone; he still had plans for his special people, and they were all wrapped up in another child, Samuel, son of Hannah and Elkanah. (“Samuel” sounds like “Heard by God”.) But the unfolding of those plans still lay in the future, and Phinehas’ wife would never see them.

The early chapters of 1 Samuel are all about God’s decision that it was time to pass judgment on Eli and his family. Eli was 98 and had served as Israel’s leader for 40 years. His sons, who had succeeded him in the priesthood, had gone from bad to worse, profaning sacred acts of worship and wallowing in sexual immorality. Eli had tried to restrain them (2:12-25), but his efforts seem to have been pretty feeble, and had no effect. A new start was urgently needed, and God had Samuel lined up to lead it.

Forty years’ leadership! – and what to show for it? How sad is that!

Perhaps because of my own weaknesses and failings, I find it hard not to have some sympathy for Eli. I get the impression that his heart was sincere - as we sometimes say, “He meant well” - but things had just got beyond him.

On the plus side, he was quick to correct himself over thinking Hannah was drunk, and he pronounced a blessing on her (1:17). When she and Elkanah came to Shiloh to worship and to visit Samuel he prayed that she would have more children (2:18-21). He did at least try to restrain his sons, however ineffectively. When the bad news of God’s judgment fell he didn’t try to wriggle out of his responsibility, but accepted it honestly and humbly (3:17-18), even from the mouth of a child.

Perhaps most striking of all, his death seems to have been caused more by the shock of learning that the Ark was lost than by the news that his sons were dead. Yes, I think his heart was right.

But it’s hard not to see him as one of the Bible’s most pathetic failures. Of course it’s good to have a heart which is in the right place, but what’s the good of that if we aren’t in fact doing God’s will?

This can prompt a question in us, especially those of us who are no longer young: Have I maintained my spiritual fire as the years have gone by? This perhaps is the main battle of the Christian life: the pressures of life take their toll, and a red-hot spiritual zeal can easily cool, so how are we to avoid becoming a spent force, a “burnt-out case”?

The Bible nowhere gives us a detailed account of what we must do, though obviously drawing near to God day by day in prayer and scripture-reading, and sharing in regular worship and fellowship with other believers, is basic. But let’s face the fact that there are times when, though we know these things are vital, we just have no appetite for them.

Each of us must work out our own way of tackling this. But be in no doubt: it is possible – and it is important. Paul tells the Christians of Rome: “never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervour”. And then he adds an important clue: “…serving the Lord” (Romans 12:11). Yes, it’s when we drop out of committed service that the warning bells begin to ring – or should do, anyway.

So God saw fit to judge Eli. I don’t think, by the way, that that judgment had to do with his eternal salvation – the Old Testament in general has very little to say on that subject. No, he judged him as to his failure of service and ministry; you could compare this to Paul’s warning in 1 Corinthians 3:10-15.

But we would be wise to remember that we too will one day face God’s judgment – not as to our salvation, but as to the use to which we have put our lives and our gifts. And I doubt if that will be a comfortable experience for many of us.

Here’s a question we can put to ourselves: What will my epitaph be when my earthly life is over and done?

Will it be: “Well done, good and faithful servant”? Or will it be, like Eli, that saddest of words… Ichabod?

Father, I confess how low my spiritual light often burns, and how feeble is my faith and commitment. Help me to take to heart the warning of Eli’s story, and grant that, however weakly, something of the beauty of Jesus might shine from me each day. Amen.

A neglected duty?

I published this post exactly four years ago, when there was dangerous tension between the USA and North Korea. It has just popped up again in the “Memories” section of my Facebook page. Given the horrible events unfolding this last weekend in Afghanistan – not to mention the tragic earthquake in Haiti – it seemed appropriate to publish it again.

I wonder how many of our churches focussed prayer on these topics in yesterday’s services?

 

I urge then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people – for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. 1Timothy 2:1-2

 

I was at school in 1962 when the Cuban Missile Crisis took place – a stand-off between the Soviet and American governments. I hadn’t a clue what it was all about, but I can still remember a real tension in the air. Was something truly terrible about to happen? Was the world about to be plunged into nuclear war? It went on for about a fortnight, until some kind of agreement was cobbled together which allowed both sides to save face. The world breathed a sigh of relief.

Some political writers think that something similar is happening today, this time between America and North Korea. Could North Korea’s threats to launch missiles into various American territories actually be carried out? And what might the Americans do in response? Could the unthinkable happen?

Most of us (certainly me, anyway) are in no position to express an opinion. But I can’t view the situation without being driven back to Paul’s words to Timothy: that it is the duty and responsibility of the Christian church to pray “for all people – for kings and all those in authority”.

 

Paul and his protégé Timothy lived under the rule of the pagan Roman Empire: which was in fact the cradle into which Christianity was born. Comparing the infant church with mighty, cruel, ruthless Rome is like comparing a mouse with a lion; it could be crushed in five seconds flat. And so Paul urges Pastor Timothy “first of all” to make sure that “kings and all those in authority” are soaked in the prayers of God’s people.

Nothing has changed in two thousand years. But the question arises: is this something that we Christians do today? Is this a command that we take seriously? The fact is that, if Paul’s words mean anything at all, we can have an influence on world affairs. And this is not only a privilege; no, it is much more – it is a duty.

 

Praying for ourselves, our personal needs, our families and friends, our churches and localities, is fine. But it’s not enough. Not if we want to be true to God.

There are other places in the Bible which highlight the entanglement of God’s people in the big events of their time. Two other letters, in fact, chime in with Paul’s letter to Timothy.

First, about six hundred years before Jesus…

The people of Israel are exiled in Babylon. Their beloved temple in Jerusalem has been knocked down and the bulk of the people carted off into captivity (you can get a feel of their misery if you read Psalm 137).

There is a danger that they might just wallow in self-pity. But then they receive a letter. It comes from the prophet Jeremiah, back home in Judah, and tells them to accept their fate for the foreseeable future and to make the best of it (Jeremiah 29:1-6). And then Jeremiah adds these words: “Seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers you too will prosper” (verse 7).

 

The second letter is from an unlikely source – in fact, from a pagan king, Cyrus the Persian.

Cyrus has toppled the Babylonians and, amazingly, has given God’s captive people permission to return to their homeland, and, even more amazingly, to rebuild their temple. (Who says prayers aren’t answered! Who says miracles don’t happen!)

When God’s people (now referred to as “the Jews”) set about this task, they are given a hard time by local rulers who try to oppose Cyrus’ wishes. So Cyrus sends these rulers a severe letter. Don’t you dare try to stop the Jews in their rebuilding work! he says. No, give then all the help they need! And then this: “… so that they may offer sacrifices pleasing to the God of heaven and pray for the well-being of the king and his sons” (Ezra 6:1-12).

 

Cyrus had the wisdom to see that, although he himself didn’t believe in the God of the Jews, he needed the prayers of God’s people.

You see the link with Paul’s words to Timothy?

And you see the link with us today?

Paul’s words are directed, of course, to a fellow pastor, a church leader. So perhaps this message is especially for those of us in leadership. Let’s make sure that such prayers are reflected regularly in our public services of worship! Yes, pray for Theresa May, for Kim Jong-Un, for Donald Trump (whatever you may think of them).

 

Whether we are leaders or not, the essential fact stands out as clear as crystal: this troubled, hurting, dangerous world needs our prayers.

 

Let’s not fail it.

Lord God, you rule over this world and everything it. Be at work, we pray, in the minds and hearts of all those who occupy positions of power and influence. Bring to the fore men and women of honesty, integrity and courage to make the big decisions that affect all our lives, so that we might indeed “live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness”. Amen.

God's new start (2) Elkanah's devotion

There was a certain man from Ramathaim, a Zuphite from the hill country of Ephraim, whose name was Elkanah son of Jeroham, the son of Elihu, the son of Tohu, the son of Zuph, an Ephraimite. He had two wives; one was called Hannah and the other Peninnah. Peninnah had children, but Hannah had none.

Year after year this man went up from his town to worship and sacrifice to the Lord Almighty at Shiloh, where Hophni and Phinehas, the two sons of Eli, were priests of the Lord. 1 Samuel 1:1-3

Elkanah may not have been the kind of person you would particularly notice. In the story of God’s new start for Israel which came about through the birth of Samuel he occupies a fairly minor place – the husband of Hannah, the woman whose faith and determination set everything going, and whose personality dominates the story.

But, as is often the case with minor Bible characters, he has his place and his importance, and once you focus on him for a few minutes there’s a lot you can learn – and a lot you can admire. I personally find myself warming to this obscure man. Skimming through 1 Samuel 1 there are various things worth noticing…

First, he is a devout worshipper: “Year after year he went up from his town to worship and sacrifice to the Lord Almighty at Shiloh…” (verse 3) - rather like Joseph and Mary and their family going up to Jerusalem. Elkanah was a man who took his faith seriously, so straight away he reminds us of the need for spiritual discipline.

Second, he treats his family well – and especially the grieving Hannah, his first wife, who had failed to produce a child. He made sure everyone was well fed during the ceremonial feasting, but “to Hannah he gave a double portion because he loved her, and the Lord had closed her womb” (verse 5). When Peninnah, the second wife, behaves spitefully toward her, he does his best to comfort her: “Her husband Elkanah would say to her, ‘Hannah, why are you weeping? Why don’t you eat? Why are you down-hearted? Don’t I mean more to you than ten sons?’” (verse 8).

A bit clumsy? Perhaps (typical man!). But I don’t think we need doubt that he meant well and that his love for Hannah was genuine.

Third, when the miracle happens and Hannah becomes pregnant, Elkanah supports her as best he can, falling in with her wishes, and even going along with her determination to dedicate Samuel as a servant of the Lord at Shiloh: “‘Do what seems best to you’” he tells her (verses 21-24). I wonder how many husbands would have been as sensitive and kind? All that matters to him is that God’s plan should work out – and that the wife he loved should at last be happy.

You see what I mean about warming to Elkanah?

Of course, a question might be asked: If Elkanah was basically a good, honest, solid man, a true Israelite, how come he has two wives?

A good question. The answer is simple: by this time in Israel’s history, bigamy and even polygamy were accepted practices (think, above all, of the great kings David and Solomon – the latter renowned for his massive harem). This, of course, was never God’s intention: Adam and Eve in Eden was the divine blue-print. But just as we read about the first murder as early as Genesis 4, so also we read about the first bigamist immediately afterwards (Lamech in 4:19).

It may come as a surprise to us that monogamy – marriage as strictly one-man-one-woman – is never commanded in the law books of the Old Testament. (Indeed, in Deuteronomy 21:15-18 the idea of a man having two wives seems not to raise an eyebrow.)

In short, Elkanah and Hannah lived in a society where, rightly or wrongly, polygamy was quite normal practice. I wonder if they even knew the Adam and Eve story? Not till we get to Jesus and the apostles (eg, Matthew 19:3-12) do we find a reinforcing of the ideal of the Garden of Eden.

Sadly, even though we today have all the scriptures of the Bible, the fact is that even within the church there may be woeful ignorance of things which a previous generation took for granted. This may not excuse disobedience, but perhaps it at least makes it understandable.

So… I for one will persist in my liking for Elkanah! And simply say, thank God that any judging that needs to be done is done by him, not by us.

But hang on a minute! Isn’t there someone I have overlooked in outlining this very human story?

Yes! What about Peninnah? Surely she too is worthy of a mention?

You could say that Peninnah is just a name – a woman with a catty tongue (she “kept provoking Hannah in order to irritate her” (verse 6)). But isn’t she too a person, a human being? What must it have been like to be wife number two? Possibly that position represented a step-up in a world where women had very few opportunities, giving a certain status and security. Or was it in fact a humiliation? Could a deep-down sense of failure and inferiority explain the way she treated Hannah?

We don’t know. But what we can be sure of is that she was flesh and blood, a person with feelings. Like you and me, in fact.

In our world millions of women and girls are treated like slaves, sometimes forced into marriages they don’t want. So here’s my suggestion: when we focus for a moment on Peninnah, it can at least encourage us to think about all people today who live their lives under the thumb of bullies and who have no control over their own destinies.

Think about them. Yes - and perhaps even act to help them and bring them justice.

Thank you, Father, for the Elkanahs of our world – the men and women who seek to walk with you day by day, quietly getting on with doing your will, and doing what they see as right. Amen.

God's new start (1) Hannah's faith

In her deep anguish Hannah prayed to the Lord, weeping bitterly. And she made a vow, saying, “Lord Almighty, if you will only look on your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head.”

As she kept on praying to the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving, but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk and said to her, “How long are you going to stay drunk? Put away your wine.”

“Not so, my lord,” Hannah replied, “I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the Lord. Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.”

Eli answered, “Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of him.” 1 Samuel 1:10-17

It’s about 1100 years before Jesus, and Israel is in a seriously bad way. They have turned away from God and adopted the practices of the nations around them. Their religious leaders, especially the priest Eli and his two sons, have lost their way, and there is moral and spiritual rottenness at the heart of the nation. God decides that enough is enough – it’s time to pass judgment on the present leadership and to start afresh.

So dramatic events are round the corner, events such as to “make everyone’s ears tingle” (I Samuel 3:11). And the new start begins with an unsung hero of the Bible: Hannah, the childless woman. To get the full picture we need to read all of chapters 1-3 of 1 Samuel, but the part I have quoted plunges us into the heart of the drama.

The essence of the story is that God miraculously answers Hannah’s desperate prayer for a child – and the birth of that child, Samuel, will be also the birth of the new Israel. This is a story, then, of how God loves to take very ordinary people, and to make them special – very special indeed. (Straight away there’s a message there for you and me, don’t you think?)

As I look at Hannah’s story, two things in particular stand out…

First, her deep inner sadness.

To be childless in ancient Israel was perhaps the worst thing that could happen to a married woman. For some, it was a sign of God’s displeasure – given that a woman had little status, no education, and few if any opportunities to develop her gifts and talents, bearing children was pretty much “all she was good for”.

Hannah, then, knew the meaning of dashed hopes.

We can imagine her wedding-day: she married Elkanah, a good man who truly loved her, and no doubt the occasion shook with joy and celebration. She will have eagerly awaited the arrival of her first child. But a year went by, and no child. A second year… a third year… and slowly it became apparent that it was not going to happen. How many tears did Hannah shed?

We can use our imaginations to picture a terrible day when Elkanah and Hannah had an intensely painful conversation... “Hannah, you know I love you very dearly, and always will…” and Hannah, her heart turning to ice, knew what was coming… “but I do need to have children, and our neighbours have agreed that their daughter Peninnah should become my second wife. You do understand, don’t you?”

Understand? What choice did she have?

It only got worse when Peninnah produced a succession of sons and daughters and began to gloat over Hannah and enjoy her misery. Yes, Elkanah tried to comfort her, and meant well, but what consolation was there for her?

I have no doubt that every day of our lives we rub shoulders with the Hannahs of this world – men as well as women who carry within their hearts dashed hopes and shattered dreams. They might greet us with a smile or wave to us across the street, but who can know what pain they carry? A terrible family tragedy… a life-changing sickness… a child who has lost their way (like Eli’s sons)… an ambition never achieved…

“Each heart knows its own bitterness…” says Proverbs 14:10. If nothing else, let this dark side of Hannah’s story soften our hearts and teach us kindness and compassion for those with whom we share our lives, however distantly.

The second thing about Hannah that stands out, of course, is her determined and persevering faith.

The whole family went every year to worship God at the shrine in Shiloh. Worship was accompanied by feasting, and we can imagine the sound of laughter and of Peninnah’s children running around.

But Hannah has no appetite for either food or laughter. She heads back to the temple to be alone and to pray. And she holds nothing back, “pouring out her soul to the Lord” - so much so that Eli jumps to a cruel conclusion: “You’re drunk! How long do you plan to keep this up? Sober up, woman!” (Message translation) (Given the state of things in Israel, no doubt Eli would have been well familiar with drunken behaviour.)

Hannah puts Eli right in humble but plain language, and, to his credit, he recognises his mistake and wishes her well: “Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant you what you have asked of him”.

I love the little detail that’s given us next: “Then she went her way and ate something, and her face was no longer downcast” (verse 18). Her prayer has not yet been answered - yet her appetite is restored and her spirits lifted. Thanks be to God!

Anyone who is serious about prayer will know well that breakthroughs such as Hannah enjoyed that day are the exception rather than the rule. But her perseverance offers us a very simple message: Christian, never give up!

You can never know what God has up his sleeve; but you can know that in the end he will bring you through, and your tears will be turned to laughter.

Dear loving heavenly Father, in my tears be my comfort, in my sorrow be my hope, in my darkness be my light, and so bring me to that day when I will see Jesus face to face, and when every tear will be wiped away. Amen.

A Question of Language

  A QUESTION OF LANGUAGE

 

It’s a question that crops up every so often: “Why are there so many Bible translations, and why do they sometimes differ so much from one another?”

A good question.

The basic answer is simple enough: Because language never stands still, so it’s necessary to produce fresh translations of any documents, including the Bible, whose meanings have become clouded by the passing of time.

Here are three examples of how difficult Bible translation can be, whether it’s a matter of bringing things up to date, or of making the translation more accurate.

First… God forbid!

We all have verbal mannerisms, expressions we tend to use almost without thinking. The apostle Paul was no different. Ten times in his  Letter to the Romans he uses an expression which I first learned as “God forbid” (chapters 3, 6, 7, 9, 11). I learned it that way because that was how the King James Version (or the “Authorised Version”) translated it, and when I was a new Christian in my teens that was pretty much the Bible, the one and only Bible.

So it came as a surprise to me later to discover that, in fact, the word “God” doesn’t appear at all in the original Greek Paul wrote. No: a literal translation would be “Let it not be so”, or “May it not be”. Either of those would be correct, strictly speaking – but they would also be extremely bad translations, for the simple reason that, well, we just don’t talk like that, do we?

It’s interesting to see how modern translations tackle that phrase in Romans 3. In the New International Version (NIV), for example, it’s “Not at all!” (3:4 and 3:31) and “Certainly not!” (3:6). The Good News Bible (GNB) varies between “Certainly not!”, “By no means!” and “No, not at all”. The English Standard Version (ESV) and the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) both have “By no means!” all three times (so at least they’re consistent!). The Message has “Not on your life!” in 3:4.

So… which is the “right” translation? Answer: there isn’t one. The fact is that there is never such a thing as a one-off, all-time “correct” translation: the various translators have to use their own best judgment, majoring on three main criteria: first, is it accurate; second, is it meaningful; and third, is it good English?

What applies to a little snippet of Paul applies to the whole Bible; translation is not a simple, mechanical matter of substituting a word in English for a word in Greek or Hebrew. Translation just doesn’t work that way.

A second example… Woman…

In John 2:4 Jesus addresses his mother as “Woman…” Strictly, that’s correct, exactly what the Greek says (literally “What to me and to you, woman?”)

But what sort of English is that! Answer: clumsy, awkward and pretty well meaningless. Even more, in England today a man addressing his mother as “woman” sounds downright rude. Surely Jesus wouldn’t intend that! Of course not! (or should I say, God forbid?). (The NIV kindly gives us a footnote: “The Greek for Woman does not denote any disrespect”. Well, thanks for letting us know, NIV!)

So what might be better? “Mother”? “Dear mother”? “Dear lady”? (Not, I think, “Mum”!) The GNB goes for broke and simply omits the word altogether. Can that be right? What do you think!

The third example is really quite tricky… temptation.

In the Lord’s Prayer (Matthew 6:9-13), most Christians are familiar with this wording for verse 13: “Lead us not into temptation”.

But that raises the question: Why would God lead us, his children, into temptation? Why would we ever need to pray such a prayer? Surely a holy God who is also our loving Father would never do such a thing! James 1:13 explicitly rules out such a possibility: “God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does he tempt anyone”. What possible need can there be to ask God not to do something he has already promised he will never do?

This where we depend on the learning of the language experts. And what they tell us is that temptation is a word with more than one shade of meaning. Yes, it can mean temptation in a bad sense, ie, being enticed to do wrong, to fall into sin. But it can also have a neutral meaning: of being tested by trials and difficulties.

And so NRSV translates “Do not bring us to the time of trial”, and GNB “Do not bring us to hard testing” – where the reference seems to be to persecution, and Jesus then would be encouraging us to pray in the spirit of Matthew 24:20: “Pray that your flight will not take place in winter or on the sabbath. For there will be great distress…”. In short, “Lord, please spare us severe persecution”.

Sorry this has got a bit technical. But if we are serious about getting to grips with God’s word, we need to grapple with questions like these. Just sticking with what’s familiar for no other reason than because it’s familiar can’t be right.

And who knows? Perhaps coming at the Bible with fresh eyes and new insights might enrich our understanding in ways we never imagined!

Father, thank you for your word in the Bible, and thank you for those who take on the very difficult task of translating it for us. Please help me to value it, to read it, to apply it, and to live by it. Amen.

No fixed abode?

When Saul came to Jerusalem, he tried to join the disciples, but they were all afraid of him, not believing that he really was a disciple. But Barnabas took him and brought him to the apostles… Acts 9:26-27

I was using the prayer diary of the Christian charity Barnabas Fund recently and I came across this. It caused me to stop and think…

Many Ugandan churches refuse to have anything to do with Christians from a Muslim background, presumably because they are fearful of Islamist threats. Often these converts have also been rejected by their relatives and have no one else…

Two thoughts struck me.

First, shock that Christians could act in such a way. Surely they should be thrilled to bits at anyone coming to faith in Jesus, Muslim or not! The thought that they might “refuse to have anything to do with them” took some digesting.

And then sadness for the Muslim converts. By what we hear from various parts of the world, Muslims who renounce their faith are quite likely to be rejected by their own family; in some cases they might even be killed. So what must it be like to break those powerful, lifelong ties in order to follow Jesus – only then to find that the local Christians don’t want to know you either? You are suddenly an outcast, living in a no-man’s land, an orphan, bereft of family love. Where do you go for worship and fellowship? for ordinary human interaction? How desperately lonely must that be?

Other thoughts quickly followed. In many countries Christians are under severe pressure from Islamist militants; regular killings, sometimes even massacres, are not uncommon. So can you really blame those Christians? How can they be sure that that new convert is indeed genuine, and not a potential infiltrator? The risk is probably tiny – most Muslims, after all, are peaceable, and good neighbours. But there is a risk. Is it worth taking?

What would you do if you were in their place? What would I do?

Things are rarely as simple as they at first sight appear, are they? They say you should never judge another person until you have walked ten miles in their shoes (and probably not even then), and that is something we always need to keep in mind. So – no judging of those Ugandan Christians…

Then it occurred to me that something very similar happened to Saul of Tarsus in the immediate aftermath of his dramatic conversion (Acts 9).

Saul was a firebrand, consumed with hatred for the new “Jesus movement”. He “breathed out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples” (verse 1). He was determined that the new movement should be snuffed out at birth, and his name must have struck terror into the hearts of the believers.

And then… he got converted (verses 3-9)!

He became as zealous for Jesus as previously he had been against him. In Damascus he threw himself into the task of making Christ known: “At once he began to preach in the synagogues that Jesus is the Son of God” (verse 20). Wonderful! But when he headed for Jerusalem it was a different story: “he tried to join the disciples, but they were all afraid of him, not believing that he really was a disciple” (verse 26). Exactly like those Christians in Uganda. As the Book of Ecclesiastes says, “There is nothing new under the sun”.

Usually when I sit down to write a blog post I have a pretty good idea where it’s heading. But it’s rather different this time. I’m really not sure what exactly I’m challenging myself or my readers to do. The story of what was happening in Uganda struck me so forcibly that I simply thought it would be good to share it, so please respond as you feel is right for you. The only obvious response is prayer.

But I think there is a question worth asking. What happened to clear the way for Saul of Tarsus? The answer can be summed up in one word: Barnabas - “Barnabas took Saul and brought him to the apostles”, presumably so that he could be vetted and  officially approved (verse 27).

Thank God for dear Barnabas! He had the discernment to see that Saul was in fact truly converted – and the courage to act upon it and do something about it.

So… Pray for those lonely converts feeling unwelcome in the churches. Pray that as long as they are outcasts they will know the nearness and the comfort of God, and that their faith will hold fast.

Pray too for those nervous Christians, that God will take away their fear and give them peace. (And if, by any chance, it isn’t fear but sheer prejudice against Muslims that motivates them, pray that they will see how wrong this is.)

But then, also, pray that God will raise up some true Barnabases, people of spiritual stature and maturity, who will be able to bring reassurance to their fellow-believers, and so help to build and unite the church. Amen?

Oh, something else too… if you do not currently support an organisation such as Barnabas Fund, how about starting today? They need our money, our prayers and our interest.

Lord God, please breath your blessing upon those rejected converts, to comfort and encourage them. And please act powerfully in the local churches, that they will have the wisdom to see what is right, and the courage to act on it. Amen.