Let's get political

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. This is good, and pleases God our Saviour, who wants all people to be saved and come to a knowledge of the truth. 1 Timothy 2:1-4

It's only extremely rarely – in fact it’s literally never – that I use this blog to say anything remotely “political”. There’s plenty of political comment flying around all the time, most of it from people, Christian and otherwise, who are far better qualified than me.

But the election of Rishi Sunak as the new prime minister in the United Kingdom has been such a big moment that I can’t resist the temptation to break my rule. I’m not going to offer an opinion as to whether he’s a good or bad choice, though like all of us I have my views.

But I want to react to one or two remarks I have picked up from fellow-Christians: remarks which reflect concern not because of Mr Sunak’s politics, but because of his religion – he is the first “non-Christian” prime minister in our history.

Is this historic event a worrying watershed in the life of our country? Are we, as a nation, in the process of cutting ourselves further adrift from our Christian heritage? In a nutshell, is this something we as Christians need be concerned about?

Certainly, the choice of Mr Sunak reflects the massive changes we have seen in recent decades: it’s just a fact that we are both a multi-racial and a multi-religious nation – so we might as well get used to it. (In fact, you can’t help wondering if the label “a Christian nation” has been anything more than merely formal for many years.)

True, the late Queen’s funeral was shot through with Christian symbolism and teaching, and no doubt the same will be true of the coronation of King Charles next year. But truly a Christian nation? I really don’t think so.

The original Christian church was born some two thousand years ago against a background of many and varied religions. The most powerful was emperor-worship, reflecting the might of Rome, but in those days you could hardly move for gods, temples, shrines and philosophies (just read about Paul’s experience in Athens: Acts 17:16-34). So the early church had no heritage upon which it could draw – except, of course, that of the Jews, whose Messiah, or King, they had learned to worship.

There was no democracy such as we would recognise today and no mass media, so ordinary people would have had no notion at all of the beliefs or principles of their emperor or governors – no notion, that is, beyond what they themselves experienced in the course of everyday life. Their number one priority would simply be the sheer struggle for survival.

Well, in many ways modern Britain is far more like the world of the New Testament than any kind of “Christian nation”. And it’s against this background that Paul gives his advice to Timothy, his young protégé, which I have quoted above: “kings and those in authority” are to be prayed for. That, in essence, is all that really matters for most of us.

He doesn’t suggest that the first Christians should pray for rulers if they like them or approve of them or agree with them. How would they know anyway? No, they are to pray for them simply because, well, they are the ones with the power. And Paul suggests that it’s in the Christians’ own interests to pray for them, “so that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness”.

How does this apply to us today? Here’s an illustration. If you had to go into hospital for an operation, which would you prefer the surgeon to be, a devout Christian who isn’t really very competent, or an atheist or Muslim or Hindu or whatever who is at the top of their profession? I think that’s what’s known as a no-brainer, isn’t it…?

There is a comparison with many areas of life, including politics. Of course we would be delighted to see the political world full of Spirit-filled and Christlike Christians: of course! But the fact is that it isn’t, so there’s no point in bemoaning the fact.

Surely what we as Christians should be looking and praying for is men and women of principle, seriousness, honesty, integrity, humility – and just plain professional competence.

If this is so, Paul’s words to Timothy remain totally relevant and up to date. Do you and I take them seriously? Do we in fact pray regularly for those who govern us? Or do we lapse into cynicism, which is poison to our souls? - or into pessimism, which is unworthy of a people of hope? - or into an attitude of withdrawal: “I just keep well clear of all that politics stuff”, which is a denial of the teaching of Jesus, who told us to “render to Caesar…”? Shame on us if we do!

Christians will have a full variety of political views, and that’s fine. But all I can say is this: I would far rather have a prime minister who is a sincere Hindu than one who is a non-Christian Christian (if you know what I mean). Wouldn’t you?

Father, we pray for Rishi Sunak and the government he is assembling. Whatever their religious views may be, please lead them to act on our behalf with integrity, honesty and wisdom, remembering that they are answerable to One who is far greater than them. May they, by your grace, bring us through the multiplicity of problems besetting us. Amen.

Feet of clay

At that time Marduk-Baladan son of Baladan king of Babylon sent Hezekiah letters and a gift, because he had heard of Hezekiah’s illness.  Hezekiah received the envoys and showed them all that was in his storehouses—the silver, the gold, the spices and the fine olive oil—his armoury and everything found among his treasures. There was nothing in his palace or in all his kingdom that Hezekiah did not show them.

Then Isaiah the prophet went to King Hezekiah and asked, “What did those men say, and where did they come from?”

“From a distant land,” Hezekiah replied. “They came from Babylon.”

The prophet asked, “What did they see in your palace?”

“They saw everything in my palace,” Hezekiah said. “There is nothing among my treasures that I did not show them.”

Then Isaiah said to Hezekiah, “Hear the word of the Lord: The time will surely come when everything in your palace, and all that your predecessors have stored up until this day, will be carried off to Babylon. Nothing will be left, says the Lord. And some of your descendants, your own flesh and blood who will be born to you, will be taken away, and they will become eunuchs in the palace of the king of Babylon.”

“The word of the Lord you have spoken is good,” Hezekiah replied. For he thought, “Will there not be peace and security in my lifetime?” 2 Kings 20:12-19

Ever since I was first converted I have had a soft spot for Hezekiah, King of Judah. I was 15, and was greedily gobbling up the Bible, my eyes newly opened and my heart newly stirred. But I found that working my way through Kings and Chronicles left me rather disillusioned – so many of the kings of Israel and Judah seemed to be a thoroughly bad lot: disobedient to God, cruel and oppressive to their people.

And then, as I neared the end of 2 Kings, I came across Hezekiah (2 Kings 18-20 and 2 Chronicles 29-32), where I read that “he did what was right in the eyes of the Lord”. Ah, this was better! This was what I needed to read!

True, there wasn’t a lot of material, but most of what there was was heart-warming – Hezekiah’s stubborn obedience to God, his devout prayer-life, his simple faith in a time of national crisis. He lodged securely in my mind, and has remained there ever since.

Only later did I realise that, for all my fondness for him, Hezekiah had some rather less happy lessons to teach me. In 2 Kings 20 we find him (a) acting foolishly and (b) displaying a bit of what might be plainly called hypocrisy.

(a)  His foolishness.

In verses 12-13, we find Hezekiah showing off the wealth of his kingdom to a delegation from the King of Babylon – who, he should surely have known, was a potential enemy. It seems that they turned up to sympathise with him over a recent illness (how nice!), and brought him a gift, which we can safely assume was pretty generous (how kind!).

Perhaps his head was turned – was he excited to receive such important visitors, to be the centre of attention? Whatever, he very soon received a dressing down from his “in-house” prophet, who had for so long been his friend and mentor. Isaiah was anything but happy that Hezekiah should have acted in such a casual, careless way. He tells him, putting it briefly, that a day will come when the Babylonians will return – but this time not to admire his treasures but to carry them off, along with a lot of captives.

Hezekiah seems to accept Isaiah’s rebuke, but there quickly follows something else that also leaves a bad taste.

(b)  His hypocrisy.

Of course, it’s very easy to pick out hypocrisy in other people; not so easy in ourselves. So I hesitate to accuse Hezekiah of this particular sin: who am I?

But it’s hard to avoid the suspicion. Hezekiah responds to Isaiah’s message with “The word of the Lord you have spoken is good”. That sounds fine, doesn’t it, very “spiritual”, and I imagine that it was a standard response to a prophetic word. But did Hezekiah really mean it? The writer seems to have doubts, for he adds: “For he thought: ‘Will there not be peace and security in my lifetime?’” Putting it more crudely, “I’m all right, Jack”.

So… in time I found that Hezekiah – surely a basically good and spiritual man – was very far from perfect. (If you go back to chapter 20 verses 2-3 you find that he had a fairly complacent view of himself too.) This suggests two simple lessons for us all…

First, as regards foolishness, be careful not to let our standards slip. The devil is always “prowling around” (as Peter puts it in 1 Peter 5:8), waiting to take us captives, and however long a time we may have been Christians, however genuinely spiritual we are, however mature we have become in Christ, not till the day we die will we be beyond the reach of temptation. Complacency, if not out-and-out pride, comes before a fall. Are you and I a bit sure of ourselves?

This should arm us too against the disappointment of seeing a respected teacher or pastor slip. Especially when we are still young in Christ we very naturally tend to put certain people on a pedestal: let Hezekiah be a reminder to us that very likely they have feet of clay, and it’s only a matter of time before they come tumbling off. Let our ultimate trust and loyalty be to Christ and to Christ alone.

Second, as regards hypocrisy, remember Jesus’ words about the speck in the other person’s eye and the plank in our own (Matthew 7:3-5). Me a hypocrite! How dare you? Yet the fact is that there are times when another person can read our true thoughts and discern our true motives better than we do ourselves. Whoever wrote 2 Kings 20:19, presumably having witnessed the scene between Hezekiah and Isaiah, seems to have had a penetrating eye…

In spite of all I have said, Hezekiah remains for me a ray of light in the often-murky waters of Kings and Chronicles.

But, in essence, his story teaches us that true holiness, a beautiful thing, is a delicate flower, grown with great patience and much pain, and one that is desperately easily crushed and destroyed.

May the Lord have mercy on us all!

Thank you, Father, for the honesty of your word. Thank you for Christlike people who have been examples to me throughout my Christian life. But help me to hold fast to Christ and Christ alone, and to love, honour and obey him until that day comes when I shall see him face to face. Amen.

Living with faith, dying with hope

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14

To me, to live is Christ, to die is gain. Philippians 1:21

Dave was 17 when I first met him. I was about 25, and straight out of college to be the pastor of the local Baptist church – single, bearded, and frighteningly ignorant and naïve.

One of the leaders suggested that the church needed a young people’s work, and we agreed to do this together. The first thing we did was to arrange a meeting one Saturday afternoon to which we invited anyone who might be interested in it. Two lads whom we had never seen before turned up: one of them being Dave. How he got to hear about the meeting I have no idea.

But that meeting was the start of the “Young People’s Fellowship”, as such gatherings tended to be called at that time. And within a year or two Dave was converted, baptised and added to the church membership. Marriage to Jean followed, plus parenthood (times five) and grandparenthood (having moved away thirty years ago I’m afraid I haven’t kept track of all the grandchildren).

Last Monday, fifty years on, I was able to attend Dave’s funeral, and I can only describe it as a massive privilege to be there. The service brought to mind Paul’s glowing words to the church in Thessalonica: “Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope”.

We certainly grieved last Tuesday; oh yes. But equally certainly our grieving was not a hopeless grieving. Oh no! – the banter and fun, the friendly insults, the vivid memories dredged up from over half a century, the half-familiar faces half-remembered and then triumphantly pinned down (“…of course, you’re…!”).

And a short message from Pastor Tom on how the light of God shines for us even “in the darkest valley” (Psalm 23:4): it was a rich and beautiful mix. The man with whom I started that young people’s fellowship emailed me that evening: “I hadn’t anticipated those contacts and they were a blessing to me… it did my soul good”. Too right it did, John!

Many times over my years as a minister I have been struck by the enormous difference between truly Christian funerals and those of people who, to borrow Paul’s words, “have no hope”. How dreary is the singing; how flat and formal the worship; how heavy the mood. But then what can one expect when a life has come to its end and the mourners have nothing to hang on to but vague ideas that the person is somehow “all right”?

Dave’s life wasn’t always easy (is anybody’s?). He wasn’t always in work; the main jobs I remember him in were as a green-keeper at a local golf-course, and as a lollipop man shepherding the children across the road. And an ever-growing family was bound to present difficulties from time to time. But he was a cheerful and positive man, and maintained his Christian faith right to the end. To be fair to him, he didn’t really look like Wurzel Gummidge; that was just my affectionate little joke.

The Thessalonian Christians were bothered when some of their fellowship died. Would these people miss out on the great, final event of Christ’s return in glory? They hadn’t anticipated that; it seems they expected Jesus’ return in their life-times. So Paul writes to reassure them.

And the essence of his message is: “They haven’t died! They have simply fallen asleep!” It’s worth noticing how, in the space of six verses (13-18), that metaphor for death occurs no less than three times.

Rest, or sleep… it’s a familiar Bible image, of course. Think of the times we read in Kings and Chronicles of how a particular king “rested with his fathers”; think of Jesus at a scene of bereavement: “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up” (John 11:11); think of Jesus in the house where Jairus’ daughter lay: ‘“Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead but asleep”. But they laughed at him’ (Mark 5:39-40).

Sleep is truly a mysterious and rather wonderful thing. While we’re doing it we don’t know we’re doing it. But the moment we wake up we know we’ve done it. Hours pass without our awareness, and then time resumes its normal pace. Where were we during those hours of sleep? The answer is: nowhere special, just lying in unconsciousness, without thoughts, feelings or desires. But the resumption of conscious life is real and vivid, filling every corner of our minds.

And so it is with death. We fall asleep in Christ and pass into oblivion. But he will wake us at the right moment, and then… well, then we will be infinitely more alive than we have ever been before.

I gather that Jean had taken Dave a cup of tea. When she went to him again, the tea was still there. But Dave – bless him – wasn’t; no, he had fallen asleep.

Thanks be to God for his victory over death!

Thank you, Father, that your Son Jesus died and rose again. Thank you that death is a defeated enemy and that as we hold on to you in faith we can be assured that we too will one day awake from the sleep of death. Help me to live what remains to me of this earthly life as one who is risen with Christ in glory. Amen.

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The tragedy of failed intentions

The word came to Jeremiah from the Lord after King Zedekiah had made a covenant with all the people in Jerusalem to proclaim freedom for the slaves. Everyone was to free their Hebrew slaves, both male and female; no one was to hold a fellow Hebrew in bondage. So all the officials and people who entered into this covenant agreed that they would free their male and female slaves and no longer hold them in bondage. They agreed, and set them free. But afterwards they changed their minds and took back the slaves they had freed and enslaved them again. Jeremiah 34:8-11

Have you ever decided to do some good thing, done it – and then changed your mind and gone back on it?

I would be very surprised if you haven’t. Haven’t we all? There’s a saying (not in the Bible, but conveying a real truth) that “the road to hell is paved with good intentions”. Oh yes, we mean well; we intend well; but when push comes to shove (as they say) we miserably fail. To start something is easy; what really matters is to keep going to the end.

Jeremiah 34:8-11 provides a glaring example. King Zedekiah of Judah decides to do a good thing, and he expects his people to follow him: they are all to set free any slaves they have who are fellow Hebrews. That, of course, was a big thing.

It was based on ancient Israelite law. As the following verses (12-14) make clear, God had instructed that this act of liberation was, strictly speaking, to take place every seventh year, along with the cancelation of debts (just pause for a moment and imagine that!).

In Britain at the moment the government has been stressing the need to “level up” between the well-off and poorer parts of the country (how successful this initiative is proving is a matter of opinion). Well, if ever there was an exercise in levelling up, it was enshrined in the “sabbath” and “Jubilee” legislation of the Old Testament (see Exodus 21, Leviticus 25 and Deuteronomy 15).

How often this actually took place we don’t know. But Jeremiah 34 makes it clear that an attempt was made in his time. But it was, sadly, a failed attempt: the people of Jerusalem “agreed and set their slaves free. But afterwards they changed their minds and took back the slaves they had freed and enslaved them again”. How sad is that… those words “but afterwards…”

The twin issues of poverty and slavery are still with us – without being unduly cynical, you could say that the population of the world is divided between the “filthy rich” and the “dirt poor”, and the division, tragically, is far, far from equal. Thank God for those Christians (and others, of course) who take this injustice seriously and who work, whether through politics or social action or missionary outreach, to remedy it. The challenge is for all of us to decide what our role should be and to carry it out – even if it doesn’t amount to much more than paying a bit extra for free trade coffee.

But what about other areas where our actions fail to measure up to our intentions?

They may be fairly “trivial” things (though are any such matters really trivial?).

We may promise ourselves to stop watching a television programme which we know is morally bad for us; but through lethargy and weak will we soon drift back into it. We may decide to control our diet more firmly, but still the weight creeps up as we fail to resist temptation.

They may be issues which determine the whole course of our lives and dictate the kind of people we become. If we are married, have we kept true to the solemn vows we made on our wedding day? And not just in an outward sense (“me? adultery? never!”) but bearing in mind Jesus’ warning about adultery of the heart (Matthew 5:27-30)?

Perhaps even more, what about the promises we made on the occasion of our baptism or confirmation or whatever. How sincere we were! How determined to be true followers of Jesus! When I was a young Christian I was given a Bible in which I wrote some words of the poet George Herbert (1593-1633): “For my heart’s desire/ Unto Thine is bent./ I aspire/ To a full consent”. And I did! – did “aspire to a full consent”. But oh the compromises, the lukewarmness, the half-heartedness over the years since then!

What this comes down to is a breathtakingly simple fact: good resolves need to be made and re-made and re-made day by day. Here’s another hymn, this time by Philip Doddridge (1702-1751): “High heaven, that heard the solemn vow, /That vow renewed shall daily hear”. Yes! The manna principle holds good when it comes even to the grace of God: it needs to be renewed afresh day by day.

I’ve quoted two old hymns. But here are the words of the apostle Peter: “Keep a cool head. Stay alert. The devil is poised to pounce, and would like nothing better than to catch you napping. Keep your guard up…” (1 Peter 5:8-9, The Message).

Dear Peter! So zealous for Jesus! But didn’t the devil catch him napping on one famous occasion? Why then should we expect anything different?

You may be able to claim truly “I started well”. But can you also say “I’m still keeping going in Christ!”

Dear Master, in whose life I see/ All that I long, but fail to be,/ Let Thy clear light for ever shine,/ To shame and guide this life of mine.

Though what I dream and what I do/ In my poor days are always two,/ Help me, oppressed by things undone,/ O Thou, whose deeds and dreams were one. Amen.

John Hunter (1848-1917)

What's the use of faith? (3)

Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world. 1 John 4:1

Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves. By their fruit you will know them. Matthew 7:15-16

Christian faith involves content, substance. It’s more – a whole lot more – than just having a positive attitude towards life or believing for the best, good though that is.

That’s been the main point of my last two posts. We’ve seen how the early church, way back in the first three or four hundred years, composed creeds in an attempt to boil that content down into fairly few words.

I suggested that there are two main points of value in such documents – first, they knit us together when we recite them in worship, saving us from the danger of purely personal, “privatised” religion; and, second, they remind us that we are part of a long history. Christianity isn’t some novelty; no, as it’s sometimes put, we stand on the shoulders of spiritual giants who have gone before us and who probably know far more than we do.

But creeds have another use, which I haven’t so much as mentioned yet: they safeguard us from danger, the danger of being misled.

Both in the teaching of Jesus in the Gospels and also in the New Testament letters, there are warnings about false prophets and teachers who can very easily lead us astray. So, while the early creeds do not have the same authority as scripture, they serve a useful purpose in outlining the essential beliefs of authentic Christian faith.

We live in a world which is awash with cults and sects, and not all of them are obviously false. I mentioned last time some people I met who described themselves as “Swedenborgians”, a word which sent me scurrying to my encyclopedias of church history. I learned that Swedenborgians consider themselves to be Christians and lay great stress on Jesus and the Bible – but also that they have certain views which struck me as distinctly dubious. And, of course, we have all met Jehovah’s Witnesses and Mormons and, if we read the papers, we have learned about other weird and not very wonderful groups in various parts of the world.

In Matthew 7 Jesus warns his disciples about the dangers. Being Jews, they would of course have been familiar with the Old Testament prophets and the way they denounced false teachers, so they should have been on their guard. Jesus doesn’t go into a lot of detail, as he does when he warns them against the scribes and Pharisees (“you hypocrites!”, Matthew 23), but he points out the acid test of genuineness (“by their fruits” – that is, by their holy lives and Christlike deeds – “you will know them”).

The apostle John adds a little more. For him the acid test is, quite simply, Christ himself: “every spirit that acknowledges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God…” (1 John 4:2-3). The truth of “God incarnate” – that almighty God himself has come to earth in human form - is at the very heart of Christian faith. So it’s only wise to tread a little carefully when we come across teachers or writers who seem to cast doubt on that central truth.

Perhaps there is another respect too where the early creeds can help us: they don’t worry too much about doctrinal niceties. Perhaps this is because the writers wanted to keep them brief and therefore trimmed them to the bare minimum. But when you think of the two thousand years which have since elapsed, of the thousands of books which have been published, of the arguing and disputing which have gone on, of the splits and factions which have splintered off from one another, it’s hard not to feel that there was wisdom in this brevity.

The fact is sadly unavoidable: the longer the church has existed, the more determined its various groupings have been to insist that their little grouping has been the correct one. Hatred has been engendered and wars have been fought in the name of doctrinal correctness. But the creeds can teach us that as long as the central essentials are held, little else matters.

I was nurtured in the “Baptist” tradition, in which Christian baptism is viewed as right only for those who are old enough to believe for themselves, and as being generally administered by total immersion. But I learned very early that there are plenty of Christians who don’t see it that way at all, and who hold to the practice of baptising babies and children. And I learned that however precious my “back-story” was, it really wasn’t worth arguing over. Why, some of these erring Christians were actually rather wonderful people!

And then, early on in my Christian life, I was plunged into quite heated discussions about what is meant by the biblical expression “baptism of the Holy Spirit”, and what place, if any, the gift of “speaking in tongues” has. Then there were debates about what precise method of church government was correct… Or when exactly we might expect the return of Christ in glory… Or whether we should still expect healings and other miracles today… Or how exactly God could be both Three and One… Or did God make the world in literally six days…

And I’m sure that all of us have puzzled over whether we should be pre-millennialists, post-millennialists, or just good old plain amillennialists… (What do you mean, you haven’t?)

If only a tenth of our energy over the centuries had been devoted to evangelism, prayer and social care instead of to such debates, how much more might have been accomplished!

From which emerges a vital truth… Focus on the essence: Jesus crucified, risen, ascended and one day coming back; and leave squabblings over other things to those who feel it’s something they must do. That way we can avoid fruitless debates and the dangers of self-righteousness, and simply enjoy our walk with God and seek to live for Christ.

Yes?

Father, I pray that I will never be misled from the essential truths of your word, and that I will never be guilty of misleading others by anything I say or do. Help me to hold fast to Christ crucified, risen and one day coming back, and not to worry too much for the rest. Amen.

What's the use of faith? (2)

For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, and then to the Twelve. 1 Corinthians 15:3-5

Last time I stressed the fact that faith – if it is truly Christian faith – has solid content. It is far more than just cheerfully hoping for the best, “looking on the bright side of life”.

This is clear from what we might call Paul’s mini-creed in 1Corinthians 15, quoted above. But I pointed out that in the early centuries of the church several other longer, fuller creeds were composed, a prominent one being the “Apostles’ Creed”:

We believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord. He was conceived from the Holy Spirit and born of the virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, was dead and was buried. He descended into hell, rose again from the dead on the third day, ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of God the Father Almighty. He will come again to judge the living and the dead. We believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.

Truly Christian faith has two aspects: first, believing that certain things are true; and second, believing in a personal God who has been made known to us in Jesus Christ. In essence, it is both believing and trusting. And this is why creeds – declarations of faith – while certainly they can become repetitive and mechanical, have their place.

Two reasons for this are worth highlighting…

First, A clear statement of faith has the effect of binding us together as a community of believers. I’ve changed the wording above from “I” to “We”, because I’m thinking of its use in a corporate act of worship, which for most of us probably means Sunday morning in church.

Put it another way… Christian faith is, of course, a deeply personal thing: it’s about my relationship with Almighty God. But it is never a purely private thing. When we come to faith in Jesus we are reborn into a whole new family. Why else did he found the church in the first place? So that we might have something to grumble about and say we don’t need?

What is sometimes described as “privatised religion” has become very common. It can be summed up in the shallow remark “I’m a spiritual person, but I don’t believe in organised religion”. Anyone who says that is claiming to know better than Jesus, for didn’t he speak explicitly about “building his church” (Matthew 16:18), and isn’t that bound to entail an element of “organisation”?

Another symptom of privatised religion is the songs we sing. Have you noticed how many new songs are all about me? What has happened to those great corporate songs which, as a gathering of God’s people, we offer together to him? They may be either ancient (“Oh God, our help in ages past”) or modern (“Lord, for the years your love has kept and guided,/ Urged and inspired us…”), but what matters is that they reflect our joint faith in Christ.

Any service that lacks such “we” songs is seriously lop-sided. They do what a shared creed is designed to do: they enable us to say, putting it crudely, “We’re in this together – you are my brother, my sister! And our God is a great God”.

A second reason that creeds have a place… They were composed – the ancient ones anyway – before the church was infested by the wretched plague of labels.

The universal church has developed an extraordinary ability to splinter into groupings. These may then co-exist for centuries, sometimes with an uneasy toleration, other times with out-and-out hatred. How must the Jesus who prayed the prayer of John 17 weep!

Actually, I need to be careful what I say here: if you look back to 1 Corinthians 3 it’s clear that the seeds of this poisonous development were planted early; the church in Corinth seems to have had a Paul-faction, a Peter-faction and an Apollos-faction. But at least such factions are not reflected in the early creeds.

In fact, going back to the Apostles’ Creed, it’s interesting to notice that it’s quite non-specific on certain matters of doctrine. Certainly, it is structured on trinitarian lines – God the Father, Christ the Son, and the Holy Spirit – but there is no doctrine of the Trinity. The crucifixion of Jesus is obviously key, but there is no “theology of the atonement”, a subject over which Christians still disagree today. (Nor is there, incidentally, in the mini-creed in 1 Corinthians 15: Paul - the man who wrote Romans 3, all about justification by faith! - is content to say that “Christ died for our sins” and leave it at that.)

The tragedy of splinter-groups is that they (or should I say we?) are all convinced that we are right; which of course implies that any group that disagrees with us is therefore wrong; which in turn breeds arrogance and self-righteousness. Oh Lord, forgive us!

So, whether we’re Baptist or Methodist, Anglican or Roman Catholic, Pentecostal or Reformed, Brethren or Orthodox, Calvinist or Lutheran, Charismatic or Salvation Army, Brethren or Seventh Day Adventist or… well, just plain right, of course, Lord, teach us humility!

Here’s a story… I once greeted a new couple at the door of the church after the morning service. They told me that they had just moved into the area and were looking for a church. Then they added, “Actually, we are Swedenborgians”. It’s not often that I’m stumped for words, but I have to admit that I was that day. When I got home I did a bit of rummaging around in various text-books…

That couple didn’t eventually settle with us. I wonder if they went off and founded the first ever Swedenborgian congregation in Scunthorpe, North Lincolnshire, UK. I do hope not! But if they did, wouldn’t they only be doing what the rest of us have done in our time?

Father, please help me to take scripture with great seriousness, and seek to put it into practice in my life. But help me also to be humble and teachable, recognising that on some matters I could be wrong. Amen.

What's the use of faith?

For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, and then to the Twelve. 1 Corinthians 15:3-5

“Well, you’ve got to have faith, haven’t you?”

Cheerful, positive people often say something like that if you ask them how they’re coping with the pressures of life. And good for them. It’s better to be positive than negative, better to be an optimist than a pessimist.

But sometimes you can’t help wondering what they actually mean. Faith in what, exactly? Even more, faith in who? The way they speak of faith makes it seem like some free-floating substance that you can somehow breathe in or drink in and then draw on when you need to confront trials. Is that really anything more substantial than “always looking on the bright side of life”?

Yes, it may be better than collapsing into anxiety, but it’s far from what Christians mean – or should mean - when they talk about faith. For the Christian, faith has content and substance; it’s more than simply a mood or a personality disposition.

From the earliest days of the church, Christians have attempted to summarise the essence of their faith in brief formulas, statements known as “creeds”.

The nearest thing we get to it in the New Testament is 1 Corinthians 15, quoted above, where Paul feels the need to “remind” the somewhat flaky believers in Corinth of what robust, red-blooded faith means. Not surprisingly, he focusses on the death of Jesus “for our sins”, on his burial, on his bodily resurrection “on the third day”, and on his “appearances” to Cephas (that’s Simon Peter), then to the rest of the apostles, and then to large numbers, including (wonder of wonders!) himself.

It's very brief – but there’s nothing airy-fairy about it, is there!

Probably some three or four hundred years later the “Apostles’ Creed” was composed (nobody knows for sure who by): this covers far more…

I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord. He was conceived from the Holy Spirit and born of the virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, was dead and was buried. He descended into hell, rose again from the dead on the third day, ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of God the Father Almighty. He will come again to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.

That’s truly packed with substance!

In some church traditions this or something similar is recited regularly. I was converted in a tradition which doesn’t use such forms of “liturgy” – and occasionally I have regretted that, for while liturgy can become repetitive and mechanical, if used thoughtfully it can also have the effect of (a) binding a congregation together (start “we” rather than “I”) and (b) anchoring it in history, in days when the church is often prey to (I nearly said plagued by) faddish novelties. The church wasn’t born just 40 or 50 years ago; we modern Christians have inherited a long and rich inheritance, and we are arrogant and foolish if we neglect that. (The word “catholic”, of course, with a small c, simply means “universal”.)

(Mind  you, churches like the ones I have belonged to can get round the problem by singing a creed – Graham Kendrick, for one, set the Apostles’ Creed to lively music some thirty-five years ago with “We believe in God the Father”. Well done, Mr Kendrick, say I.)

All this presents a real challenge to anyone claiming to be a Christian: How substantial is my faith? Or, to put it the other way round, is my faith vague and little more than wishful thinking?

Not every Christian can be a theologian, with a grasp of all the niceties of Christian doctrine. But Jesus tells us to love the Lord our God with all our mind, as well as with all our heart, soul and strength. And that means giving serious thought to what the Bible – even the difficult parts – means. And that, in turn, means taking seriously a regular discipline of reading and thinking. The old-fashioned word is “meditating”.

We live in a world where many unchurched people have not deliberately rejected Christianity (in spite of what we sometimes say), but have simply never been invited to engage with it and have therefore given up. We have failed to pique their interest so that they want to understand more. (Perhaps, too, they can’t see that our lives are significantly changed by what we profess to believe.)

I said at the beginning that the key thing about faith is not just faith in what but also faith in who. Words, however important, can deaden as well as enlighten, so we need always to remember that what ultimately matters is a relationship – a relationship with God as our loving heavenly Father through faith in Jesus Christ, his Son.

And so we need to ask ourselves, Is that my experience? Have I become a new person through this great thing called faith?

Faith, then… a vague hoping for the best, or the living, dynamic mainspring of my life? That’s the key question.

But thinking about creeds raises other issues as well; so I hope you might join me next time as I return to this theme…

Father, thank you that Christian faith rests on facts, not feelings, that certain wonderful events actually happened and have changed everything. Help me to be a true witness to this, in both words and deeds. Amen.