Burning coals

If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; if he is thirsty, give him water to drink. In doing this you will heap burning coals on his head, and the Lord will reward you. Proverbs 25:21-22

I think it was the poet Philip Larkin who said, “Enemies! I don’t have enemies. I just have friends who don’t like me”.

Very witty. But I suppose none of us like the idea of having enemies. The fact, though, is that we all do, across a wide spectrum from out-and-out animosity, even hatred, to vague dislike. A friend once said to me, “There are people out there who would kill me if they could get hold of me”, and he wasn’t joking or exaggerating. For a time, prison – where, he admitted, he deserved to be – was the safest place for him.

How we think about people who we might describe as enemies – even more, how we should act towards them – is a question the Bible tackles in various places. Supremely, we have the plain words of Jesus, “Love your enemies” (Matthew 5:44). But Jesus was drawing on a strand of Old Testament teaching which surfaces particularly in the Book of Proverbs.

In Proverbs 25:21 the writer spells out the basic principle of paying back good for evil. If your enemy is hungry or thirsty, well, give him food and drink. Simple!

But the next verse is quite puzzling: “In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head…”. Mmm… I’m not sure I quite like the sound of that! In Psalm 140:10 much the same image is used to describe God’s punishment of the wicked, and Jesus too used fire as a metaphor for the same thing (Matthew 13:47-50). But the writer of Proverbs is obviously talking about this as an act of kindness and forgiveness.

In the New Testament Paul confirms this by quoting this very verse and then adding the words: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:20-21).

We are reminded, as so often, that the Bible as a whole is rich in figures of speech, metaphors, colourful and dramatic ways of getting its message across. But when it comes to tipping hot coals on your enemy’s head as a gesture of love and reconciliation – well, where does that come from!

Nobody seems to know for absolute sure, but the most likely meaning is that to respond to animosity with love and forgiveness is to engender a sense of shame in your enemy. As one commentator neatly puts it, “The coals of fire represent the pangs which are far better felt now as shame than later as punishment”. Probably all of us have sometimes said – or thought – “I ended up just burning with shame!”.

Or it could refer to an ancient custom. Another commentator writes that this saying “may reflect an Egyptian ritual practice in which a brazier of burning charcoal was held on the head as a sign of shame and remorse”. Possible, I suppose – though a little difficult to imagine!

I don’t think we need worry too much about where the saying came from: the meaning is pretty clear, and so also is its application to all of us. Not, of course, that we should deliberately set out to humiliate someone who has done us wrong. Far better to simply act kindly and leave it to God to bring about that inner burning. I can think of many times when people have simply ignored my stupidity, selfishness or wrong-doing, acted as if it had never happened, and left it to the Holy Spirit to challenge my inner self. How thankful I have been to them.

Many of us live in a culture where feelings of shame are seen simply as a sign of weakness: “Never apologise!” we are told. Certainly, there are people who lack self-confidence so much that they allow themselves sometimes to be unnecessarily crushed; and that’s sad. But for many of us shame is a sign of wisdom and honesty.

Various historic writers, not necessarily Christians, have written words of wisdom on the subject…

He that has no shame has no conscience. Thomas Fuller (1608-1661), Anglican scholar and preacher.

Where there is yet shame, there may in time be virtue. Samuel Johnson (1709-1784), writer and lexicographer.

I never wonder to see men wicked, but I often wonder to see them not ashamed. Jonathan Swift (1667-1745), writer and cleric.

It is a shame to be shameless. Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, north Africa (354-430).

And let’s never forget the old truism: “the  best way to get rid of an enemy is to turn them into a friend” (I like that!).

Perhaps the best way to finish is to repeat the words of Paul: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good”.

Still more, the words of Jesus: “Love your enemies”.

Father, thank you for those people in my life who have poured burning coals on my head, and then left it to the Holy Spirit to stir up in me a sense of shame. Help me to do the same for others, never nursing a grudge or seeking revenge but delighting in their repentance. Amen.

A hen bereft of her chicks

Jesus left there and went to his home town, accompanied by his disciples.  When the Sabbath came, he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were amazed. “Where did this man get these things?” they asked. “What’s this wisdom that has been given him? What are these remarkable miracles he is performing? Isn’t this the carpenter? Isn’t this Mary’s son and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas and Simon? Aren’t his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him.  

Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honour except in his own town, among his relatives and in his own home.” 

He could not do any miracles there, except lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them. He was amazed at their lack of faith. Mark 6:1-5

Hey, what’s this? Jesus “could not do any miracles there”? The one who stilled the storm? who cleansed the lepers with a touch? who raised the dead? Is Mark really telling us that on this particular occasion in Nazareth there were things he was powerless to do?

True, “he was amazed at their lack of faith”, but would that really be enough to prevent him exercising his divine power? Apparently yes!

If that puzzles us a little, we might prefer to turn to Matthew 13:53-58, where the same story is told in words that are nearly but not quite identical. In verse 58 we are told, not that Jesus could not do any miracles there, but simply that he “did not do many mighty works there, because of their unbelief”. That’s very different. And it raises the question: how can we explain the differences between various gospel accounts?

How the Gospel-writers came to compose their respective Gospels is a hot topic of debate among the experts, though one big clue we have is the opening words of Luke’s Gospel: he tells us explicitly that “many people have undertaken to draw up an account of the things that have been fulfilled among us” and that he, Luke, has “carefully investigated everything” in order to produce his own “orderly account”.

In other words, before Matthew, Mark, Luke and John eventually produced their finished books, it seems there were various documents, now lost, circulating around the new-born churches. They consisted, presumably, of reminiscences of Jesus, eye-witness accounts of various events, scraps of jotted-down recollections, summaries of his teachings, and the Gospel-writers gathered them and incorporated them into their own records as led by the Spirit – in a word, they were editors as well as original writers.

Quite possibly Mark and Matthew differ from one another because they were working from different notes that they had on their desks. And the notes differed quite simply because no two witnesses ever see an event in exactly the same way or use exactly the same words to describe it.

Isn’t this all a bit technical? Sorry if it is, but there is a vital truth about Jesus here which we need always to keep in mind: there were things which he, even though the Son of God, could not do, not because he didn’t have the ability or the power, but because to do them would have violated what he was all about. Call this a paradox if you like; but that’s the way it is: he could have done them – yet he couldn’t!

In this case the worshippers in the Nazareth synagogue “took offence at him” – they aren’t happy that the local boy they have known all his life has suddenly become a celebrity preacher and is stirring things up in their cosy little community.

Oh, they recognise the freshness and power of his preaching, and they marvel at the miracles they have already seen – but, after all, isn’t Jesus just “the carpenter… Mary’s son”, one of a family of sons and daughters? Miracles are all very nice, but we really don’t want anything going on around here which might force us to change our attitudes and our ways, now do we? (According to Luke 4 they actually tried to kill him.)

The fact is that there are all sorts of things which (here comes the paradox) Jesus could not do even though he could easily have done them. Here are a few random examples…

In the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26) he states that he could have called on “more than twelve legions of angels” to protect him – but no, in a deeper sense he couldn’t… In his encounter with the rich young man whose money was his god (Mark 10) we are told that “Jesus looked at him and loved him”; but did he bargain with him or lower the bar for him? No. He could have; but he couldn’t do it… He wept over the doomed city of Jerusalem (Matthew 23), declaring his agony at their hard-heartedness, a hard-heartedness which presumably he could have over-ridden by his sheer authority; but no, he ends up “like a hen who longs to gather her chicks under her wings” – but which cannot.

There is nothing Jesus can’t do. But even he truly “cannot” act in contradiction to his divine nature or the role God his Father has appointed him to play.

All this raises the question: Are you, or I, preventing Jesus from doing something he would love to do? Are we like the people of Nazareth, set in our ways, resistant to change? Or like the people of Jerusalem, and treating him no better than the former prophets, and leaving him like a mother hen bereft of her brood (what a lovely image!)?

Jesus will not – cannot – bulldoze his way into our lives. He wins by wooing, not by coercing. Is there something in our lives – a habit, an attitude, a character flaw, a stubborn resistance - where it is time to yield to his wooing?

Let’s make no mistake: if we don’t, the day will come when we will bitterly regret it.

Lord God, you sent your Son to us not as one who bullies or browbeats, but as one who serves. Shine your light on any point in my life where I am stubbornly resisting your grace and mercy, and lead me, please, to change. Amen.

Some shoes to put ourselves in

Continue to remember those in prison as if you were together with them in prison, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering. Hebrews 13:3

In February 2012 Pastor Reutilio Columbie was beaten so violently that he suffered brain damage. It’s believed that this attack was a direct result of his challenge to the authorities over their arbitrary confiscation of his church’s truck. He was found unconscious in the street… and now struggles with his speech and with memory loss.

This sad story is found in a magazine produced by Christian Solidarity Worldwide, a charity which exists to highlight injustices and persecution in many parts of the world and to prompt prayer. As its name implies, it focusses mainly, but not exclusively, on Christians.

I think, having used the magazine for several years, that I have known about Pastor Reutilio’s situation for quite a long time; the entry on him has not changed at all month after month and, as you will see, the attack which had such a tragic effect on him took place, in Cuba, more than ten years ago. That’s a long, long time. The entry is just a few short sentences, but the more you read it the more outraged you feel. How wrong it is that such a thing can happen!

Why am I writing this today? Because news has been received that Pastor Reutilio has been marvellously healed and is now free to exercise his ministry unhindered? How I wish that was so! But no, I’m afraid it isn’t. Nothing ever seems to change at all, with the result that one’s regular prayers can become rather mechanical and repetitive.

So the question arises in one’s mind: which is better, to pray in a mechanical and repetitive way, or not to pray at all? I don’t think I need to spell out the only possible answer a Christian can give to that question…

And if sometimes persevering in prayer seems a bit of a trudge (let’s be honest!), well, isn’t that where Bible verses like Hebrews 13:3 play a vital part? The Jewish Christians to whom this letter is addressed have, apparently, been praying for people in prison for their faith, and in fact for all who are “ill-treated”. That’s good, of course; but the writer of the letter seems to sense that they need a prod: continue to remember them, he says. And he makes a practical suggestion which may very well be useful to us today: use your imaginations to put yourselves in the shoes of those suffering – “as if you were together with them”. It could, after all, be you…

Indeed it could. Those of us who live in the so-called “free world” – blessed by democratic systems of government – probably find that hard to imagine; I certainly do. True, we see in our various countries forms of what you might call low-grade prejudice which can be extremely unfair or irritating. But real “suffering”? Being battered about the head and left lying in the street for simply daring to protest against a perceived injustice? Surely not!

Let’s not be too sure. The Bible makes it clear that Christians who know little of serious persecution are the exception rather than the rule. Cast your prayer-net anywhere around the world – North Korea, China, Nigeria, Cuba, Iran, Eritrea, to take a few random examples - and you will quickly discover that we are in a small minority. Or, putting it another way, that for very many Christians, suffering for Jesus’ sake is simply the norm.

Jesus hated the idea of winning disciples under false pretences: to follow me is to shoulder your cross, he said – and he meant that as no mere metaphor. “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first… If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also…” (John 15:18-20). Beware the “now-I-am-happy-all-the day” brand of Christian! Beware the peddlars of the so-called “prosperity gospel”!

Augustine, Bishop of Hippo in north Africa (354-430), wrote: “The martyrs were bound, imprisoned, scourged, racked, burnt, rent, butchered – and they multiplied”. (Whatever you do, don’t miss those last three words!). And another early African church leader, Tertullian (c160-c225), faced down his opponents with these brave words: “We multiply whenever we are mown down by you. The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church”.

Reading writers like these, reading the story of Pastor Reutilio, reading the clear warnings of Jesus (and plenty of other Bible passages, both Old Testament and New) almost makes you feel guilty that we, most of us in countries like the UK, are not persecuted; is there something wrong with us? is it a sign of spiritual deadness?

Only God can judge us; but it’s hard not to ask the question…

Here’s another quote, from Ignatius of Antioch (that’s the Antakya that has just been destroyed in the earthquake), whose life overlapped with Paul’s (he died some time around 107): “Fire and cross and battling with wild beasts, their clawing and tearing, the breaking of bones and mangling of members, the grinding of my whole body, the wicked torments of the devil – let them assail me, so long as I get to Jesus Christ”.

Gulp! I fear Ignatius was made of far sterner stuff than me! But very likely so would poor Pastor Reutilio. I invite all of us to remember him today in prayer – and also the many, many thousands of other brothers and sisters in Christ who are in similar situations.

Father in heaven, thank you for making your people a vast world-wide family. Thank you that Pastor Reutilio is our brother in Christ. Please look in mercy upon him, his family and the whole church in Cuba, and deliver them from their suffering. Amen.

Why not explore Christian Solidarity Worldwide as a ministry you might feel able to support?

The ideal church member

But I think it is necessary to send back to you Epaphroditus, my brother, co-worker and fellow soldier, who is also your messenger, whom you sent to take care of my needs. For he longs for all of you and is distressed because you heard he was ill. Indeed he was ill, and almost died. But God had mercy on him, and not on him only but also on me, to spare me sorrow upon sorrow. Therefore I am all the more eager to send him, so that when you see him again you may be glad and I may have less anxiety. So then, welcome him in the Lord with great joy, and honour people like him, because he almost died for the work of Christ. He risked his life to make up for the help you yourselves could not give me. Philippians 2:25-30

What makes the ideal church member?

Answer: there is, of course, no such thing, for however Christlike and Spirit-filled a person may be, they still fall far short of perfect. Yet probably all of us can summon up a mental picture of the kind of person we feel privileged to have around us within the body of the church.

Very early in my ministry, when I still knew next to nothing about how to go about the job, I was in a pastors’ meeting one day when fellow-ministers were offering their take on what might constitute the ideal church member. It came round to a Pentecostal pastor whose church was known for the full array of what we might now call the charismatic gifts. It was a lively, growing church and I think, looking back, that in my immaturity I was slightly in awe of the pastor.

So I was very interested to hear what he might say. Somebody “baptised in the Holy Spirit”? Somebody who spoke in tongues and had various other gifts? Somebody who had pastoral gifts and was also a gifted preacher and teacher? I “listened up”, as they say!

And what did he say? Well, first he hesitated slightly, giving it some serious thought. And then: “The first thing I look for is reliability…”

I can’t now think what else he went on to say, but that is what struck me and has remained with me for over 50 years. I was surprised and, if I am to be quite honest, perhaps a little disappointed. It seemed rather flat and ordinary – where were the charismatic qualities? the dramatic stuff? the obvious signs of being “baptised in the Spirit”? (Oh, how green I was!)

Well, meet Epaphroditus.

All right, you’ve probably met him before, but I’m sure that an even closer acquaintance can only be good. We meet him in the Bible here in Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi (he also pops up in 4:18), and it’s striking what a high opinion of him Paul has – Paul, the great apostle of Christ. See what he tells us about him…

First, he was Paul’s “brother”. A reminder that the church is not a club or organisation, but a family. Who can we rely on better than the members of our own earthly families? – always there for us when we need them. (It’s a sad situation if that isn’t the case, and you certainly have my sympathy.) That’s what Epaphroditus was for Paul in a spiritual sense.

Second, he was Paul’s “co-worker”. A reminder that the church is not simply a community of people who have a mutual interest in “religious” matters, but a work-force who are joined together in the service of the kingdom of God. There are few things which bond people closer than co-operating  enthusiastically in a shared project.

Third, he was Paul’s “fellow soldier”. A reminder to us of the sort of work Christians co-operate in – nothing less than spiritual warfare. Our world is marred by evil forces, powers of darkness intent on opposing God and putting out the light. In this battle Epaphroditus, it seems, stood shoulder to shoulder with Paul.

Brother… co-worker… fellow soldier. You can sense Paul’s respect and indeed love for Epaphroditus in every word, can’t you?

But there is still more to come…

Epaphroditus was also a “messenger” from the Philippi church to Paul in prison, probably in Rome, a messenger “whom you sent to take care of my needs”. He was no “fair weather friend”, but a brother who was happy to put himself out for Paul’s sake, even to the point of risking his health and indeed his very life: “he was ill and almost died”.

We don’t know what Epaphroditus’ health problems were – but we can be sure that the journey between Philippi and Rome, by land and sea, would have been arduous and dangerous.

News of Epaphroditus’ sickness got back to his spiritual family in Philippi, and this, apparently, upset him: he was, says Paul, “distressed because you heard he was ill”. You can’t help smiling at that, can you? Epaphroditus was upset because his fellow-Christians were upset because he was ill. He really didn’t want them to have to bother about him! Could we wish for clearer proof of the sheer affection and love which binds God’s people together?

No wonder Paul tells the Philippian Christians to “honour people like Epaphroditus”. No, he is certainly not perfect, and is not to be put on a pedestal. But “honoured” is something different, meaning “held in respect”, perhaps also “taken as a Christlike example”.

How we need Epaphrodituses (female as well as male) in the church today! Is it your humble heart’s desire to be one?

Father, thank you for the gift of your family on earth, the body of Christ of which I, by your grace, am a part. Make me, like Epaphroditus, worthy to belong! Amen.

Wishful thinking? - or solid hope?

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

The other day my new passport arrived through the post. It only happens every ten years, of course, but it’s always a bit – what word shall I use? – disconcerting, perhaps. Is that really me? - that grey-haired old chap? Surely not!

Oh well, I won’t need to bother about it again until 2033, the new expiry date. But hang on a minute… will I still be here in 2033? The passport doesn’t expire until then; but there’s a pretty good chance that I will have. If I make it to 2033 I’ll be 85, which can no longer remotely be thought of as young, or middle-aged, or even “early elderly”. It’s just good, honest, plain old. So the thing to do, surely, is to look it right in the eye and live in such a way that not a minute is wasted.

That’s what Paul is doing in Philippians 1:21: as far as he is concerned, to live is Christ, to die is … wait for it!... gain. Yes, of course he would like to have a few more years, as we all do; that instinct for survival is part of our DNA, and in Paul’s case he anticipates more opportunities to serve God. But death heralds something far better: the child of God can only gain by dying.

I am convinced that this little verse should be better known. Why do we preachers not preach on it more often? Why do we keep it for funerals and other solemn events? After all, if it really is true then it is staggeringly good news: just as Jesus gained victory over death when he rose again on Easter morning, so shall we who have our trust in him.

That’s not something to be believed in a half-hearted kind of way, a sort of vague wishful thinking; it’s something to be rejoiced in! I can think of various encouragements we can draw from those few words…

First, they take away the fear of death.

We may still have a fear of dying, but that’s a very different thing. We can’t guarantee that when it comes death won’t be painful and possibly distressing – we can’t guarantee that we will, to borrow the words of the poet John Keats, “cease upon the midnight with no pain” (wouldn’t that be wonderful!). I think it was the American film-maker Woody Allen who declared “I’m not afraid of dying – I just don’t want to be around when it happens”. Very witty. But sorry, Mr Allen, I’m afraid that option isn’t on offer!

Jesus died anything but a painless death, so our business is to put our hand firmly into his, and trust him to bring us through.

There is also, of course, the inevitable pain of saying goodbye to the people we love and the many things that make this life precious to us. But if indeed “to die is gain” the sorrow and grieving will be momentary in the context of eternity. Grief, remember, is the price we pay for love.

Second, these words put things into perspective.

Even if we make it to a hundred, that’s little more than a blip against the ages of time.

We live in a world where people cling to life as if our earthly years are all that there is, but that is simply foolish and unrealistic. Doctors and nurses do a wonderful job, and there’s no reason why we shouldn’t take advantage of their knowledge and skills. But they can only put off the inevitable, so wisdom is to look death full in the face and make sure we live every minute of every passing day to the best of our ability.

Another poet, Dylan Thomas, pleaded with his dying father, “Do not go gentle into that good night;/ Rage, rage against the dying of the light”. But how wrong he was! How futile and puny, ultimately, is such rage. Did Jesus rage against death? Did Stephen (Acts 7), as the stones thudded into his body?

No! Jesus prayed, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit”; Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit”. A trusting acceptance of death may not be easy to achieve, but it is what we must aim for.

Third, Paul’s words liberate us from many of this life’s anxieties.

If I am to die and then go to something infinitely better, is there really any need to worry about my hair going grey or my face getting wrinkled? Does it matter what people think of me? Do I need to pretend to be hale and hearty when I’m not?

All right, there are things I used to be able to do without thinking, and I can’t do them any more. But so what? Lord, help me to smile cheerfully until that glorious day when, like the lame man in Acts 3, I shall “walk and jump and praise God” with a perfect new body in a perfect new world.

Father, thank you for the day that is coming when you will wipe every tear from the eyes of those who trust in you, when there will be no more death or mourning  or crying or pain, because all these things will have passed away. Help me to live my remaining days in the light of these great truths. Amen. (Revelation 21:4).