The hothead and the sneak

After this, Jesus went out and saw a tax-collector by the name of Levi sitting at his tax booth. “Follow me”, Jesus said to him, and Levi got up, left everything and followed him. Luke 5:27-28

When morning came, Jesus called his disciples to him and chose twelve of them, whom he also designated apostles: Simon (whom he named Peter), his brother Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James son of Alphaeus, Simon who was called the Zealot, Judas son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor. Luke 6:13-16

If you were asked to name Jesus’ twelve apostles, how would you manage? Probably with some difficulty, if you’re anything like me!

There are two main reasons for this: first, because in the different lists in the Gospels some of them have different names, which can be a little confusing; and second, because, apart from Peter, James and John, we simply aren’t told very much about them. (Bartholomew, for example: who was he, and why did Jesus call him?)

But never mind. What matters is that Jesus chose twelve special companions - “apostles” means “messengers sent out” – and they were obviously very important to him.

But what did they actually do? Yes, they accompanied Jesus as he moved from place to place, and on occasions they were entrusted with the task of preaching the kingdom of God, healing the sick and delivering people from demonic oppression (eg, Luke 9:1-6). But what would an “ordinary” day have been like for them? What about those hours on the road? What did they talk about? How did they relax in the evenings? Did they have equivalents of our board games? We surely shouldn’t imagine that every minute of every day was spent in prayer or ministry or listening to Jesus.

Did they always get on together? Were there ever arguments or even rows? Did Jesus sometimes have to calm them down? There must have been times of tension, that’s for sure – see, for example, Matthew 20:20-28.

Why all these questions? If God hasn’t chosen to give us the information we’re curious about, shouldn’t we just be content with that? Well yes, of course. And yet there are worthwhile things to learn even from these little-known names. Let’s focus on two shadowy individuals in particular…

First, the “tax-collector by the name of Levi”, whose call is reported in Luke 5:27-28 (presumably the same person as Matthew in Luke 6:13-16). Second, “Simon who was called the Zealot” (Luke 6:15).

The interesting thing about these two is that, if they hadn’t been with Jesus, we can only imagine that they would have been chalk and cheese, indeed, out-and-out enemies.

Tax-collectors were generally hated and resented by their fellow Jews, mainly because the people on whose behalf they collected the taxes were the Romans, the occupying power, but also because they had a reputation for pocketing a bit extra if they felt like it (remember Zacchaeus?). They were traitors, quislings, collaborators with the enemy.

And the “Zealots”? They were the Jewish revolutionaries, determined to get rid of the Romans once for all, by violent means if necessary. (It’s possible that Barabbas, the prisoner who had “taken part in an uprising” (John 18:40) and who was released from sentence of death rather than Jesus, was a zealot.) Just possibly Simon was called “the Zealot” as a friendly nickname – “hothead Simon” – but, whatever, he sounds like a person of strong views and fiery temperament.

By the time Levi and Simon met they had, presumably, fallen under the spell of Jesus and become changed men. But, as we all know from our own experience, conversion doesn’t transform us instantly, or totally. Our political allegiance, if we have one, may remain the same, like our loyalty to a particular football team. So, when plodding, grasping Levi and fiery Simon first met, they very likely felt a strong, instinctive mutual loathing – “What? I’m expected to treat this man like a brother? You can’t be serious, Jesus!” (Oh, but Jesus was!)

Any community of human beings, large or small, is bound to generate tensions and animosities, and Jesus’ self-picked band is no exception.

And neither is any church today, as many of us may be painfully aware. As we think about Simon and Levi, three obvious but easily forgotten lessons come to mind…

First, Conversion means change.

As I have said, we know next to nothing about Levi and Simon. But one thing we can be absolutely sure of: they weren’t the same people they had been before they met Jesus. For Levi, no more fraternising with the enemy and making yourself rich at the expense of your own people; and for Simon, no more revolutionary talk or action.

And for us? We can’t claim to follow Jesus while remaining the same people as before. It may take time, and this side of death it will never be complete - but the fact is that Jesus, by his Spirit, is engaged in the process of transforming us into his likeness. He is training us not only to act and speak differently, but to think differently, to view situations through new, fresh eyes. Paul puts it into powerful words in Romans 12:1-2, where he speaks of being “transformed by the renewing of your mind”.

Let’s ask ourselves if we, even if subconsciously, are carrying over into our Christian lives habits or attitudes which simply have no place in them. Isn’t our main motive to become like him? If not, why bother to call ourselves “Christians” at all?

I’m running out of space. Please join me next time for lessons two and three!

Lord Jesus, thank you for calling such a mixed group to be your first apostles. And thank you for calling even me to follow you. Help me to welcome gladly your work of changing me, even if it isn’t always comfortable! Amen.

The tragedy of the hardened heart

The Lord said to Moses… “But I will harden Pharaoh’s heart…” Exodus 7:1-3

But… Pharaoh hardened his heart and would not let the people go. Exodus 8:32

Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts… Hebrews 3:7-8

I remember a man I met at a church where I preached from time to time. He was as regular in his attendance as many of the active church members. He seemed entirely at home in this community of quite lively Christians; indeed, he was involved to the extent of happily helping out with various practical tasks.

But… he was quite open about not being a Christian. “So why do you come?” I asked him. “Oh, I love it,” he cheerfully replied. “They’re such lovely people here - I look forward to every Sunday morning”. When I pointed out that one of the reasons the people at the church were so kind and welcoming was because of what they actually believed as Christians - and wasn’t it about time he too made that step of faith! - he just smiled and said “No, I’m not interested, I don’t want it!”

Christians of past generations used to describe such people as “gospel-hardened”. We can imagine them sadly shaking their heads and saying, “Oh yes, he never misses coming to church, but he’s heard the gospel so often that it just rolls off him like water off a duck’s back”.

Well, it would be wrong to begrudge that man the blessing he found in a gathering of Christian people. But I couldn’t help feeling that as well as being distinctly odd, his attitude was also extremely sad. Only God can judge the true state of someone’s heart, of course, but it was hard not to wonder if this man was “gospel-hardened”.

The Bible has quite a lot to say about hard hearts.

One of the best known passages is Exodus 4-11; it’s the grim lead-up to the great event known as the exodus, when God set his people free from their captivity in Egypt. Several times Pharaoh, the Egyptian king, had opportunities to yield to God’s offer of mercy rather than face judgment, but equally on several occasions Pharaoh said No, until the point was reached where it was too late, and judgment fell. (The fact that sometimes we are told that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart, and other times that Pharaoh hardened his own heart is perhaps as near as the Bible gets to explaining the mystery of the two seemingly contradictory realities: human freedom on the one hand, and divine sovereignty on the other.)

Often, when God scolds his people Israel for their failure to be faithful to him, he accuses them of being hard-hearted: for example, “Do not harden your hearts as you did at Meribah…” (Psalm 95:8) - a passage later on taken up in the New Testament, as in Hebrews 3:7-8,15 and 4:7.

The quoting of these passages in the New Testament should alert us to an important truth: that we as Christians can also be guilty of developing hard hearts. The writer to the Hebrews is clearly concerned that his readers are in danger of sliding back into their pre-Christian past (eg, 3:12-14). So while their situation is a long way from that of stubborn Pharaoh, they are in serious spiritual danger, and there is no room for complacency.

And this, surely, is a danger into which we too can fall.

Here’s a question which I find it challenging to put to myself, and which you might find helpful too: Have I ever felt that God was speaking to me, by whatever means, but said to myself “Not today”, or perhaps “No, that’s one thing I can’t do” or just allowed the message to fade away? If I have, then what is that but hardening my heart against the word of God?

Looked at from a human perspective, it’s as if God reaches a point of no return. The Bible says that “he is not willing that anyone should perish” (2 Peter 3:9) – yet we know that there are those who do perish. I hesitate to say simply that “his patience runs out”, for that makes him sound just like an irritable man or woman, but to us it may seem that way.

We’ve come a long way from the idea of being “gospel-hardened”, from Pharaoh, and from my cheery atheistic friend. But there is a New Testament passage where Paul, without actually using the word “harden”, expresses very much the same idea.

In Romans 1 he speaks at some length about “the wrath of God” against human sin as represented by the gentiles, and in three separate places he says that it is a destiny which God “gives them over” to (verses 24, 26, 28). That could sound as if God washes his hands of them once and for all; but it can’t mean that, for otherwise why would Paul have gone to such extreme lengths to preach the gospel to these very people?

But the point we need to grasp is that God’s word is a serious matter, not something to be brushed aside or treated casually. It is something to be responded to, not merely listened to.

Are any of us in danger of hardening our hearts against his love and grace, or against any aspect of his truth? Is it time to give in?

Father, I confess that there are aspects of your word which make me uncomfortable, and which I am tempted to dismiss. Please forgive me, and help me even today to respond to anything you might be saying to me. Amen.

Compassion for the guilty?

Meanwhile, when a crowd of many thousands had gathered, so that they were trampling on one another, Jesus began to speak first to his disciples, saying: “Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy. There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight, and what you have whispered in the ear in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs”. Luke12:1-3

I rather surprised myself the other day by feeling a wave of sympathy for the prominent people in the post office scandal who bear responsibility for the shocking events that have happened. As we all know, an appalling injustice has been done to hundreds of ordinary, completely innocent, people who have suffered, and continue to suffer, as a result.

So… Sympathy for such people? You can’t be serious! They knew something very bad had gone on; perhaps they connived at it; yet they turned a blind eye and did nothing to put it right. They deserve all the condemnation and even punishment that they get! Sympathy for such people – never!

And yet… I did feel sympathy, though of course nothing like as much as for the victims. Was I wrong in this?

What touched me was a newspaper article which, in effect, exposed one of the guilty people to the gaze of the whole world: her high position in the management of the post office; what she was guilty of doing – and, perhaps more to point, of not doing; how grotesquely well-paid she was; how little concern she seemed to have felt for the victims. It was easy to react, “Yes, let her suffer! It’s all that she deserves”.

But then I found myself thinking of the sobering words of Jesus in Luke 12:1-3: “There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known”.

My train of thought went something like this… First, God knows all things, including the secrets of our hearts and the very worst things about each of us. Yet still he loves us.

Second, one day each of us will be called to account before God for the people we have been in this earthly life and for the things we have done – “we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ” (2 Corinthians 5:10).

Third, this solemn truth applies to every human being, and that includes even those of us who know that “there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1). That’s a wonderfully comforting assurance, but not exactly a truth to make us complacent!

Fourth, the uncomfortable question wouldn’t go away, “How would I feel if all the bad things about me were publicly displayed for everyone to see?” – and, make no mistake, there are plenty of them.

The basic truth can’t be escaped: we are all sinners. To put it in Bible terms: “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). Or, as Hamlet asks in Shakespeare’s play: “Use every man after his desert and who shall ‘scape whipping?” Who indeed! Certainly not me.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting that people who act wrongly, or even just with appalling negligence, should not be brought to justice; not at all. In this particular case, the sooner that happens the better.

But isn’t there something unsavoury and contrary to the spirit of Jesus when the rest of us – secretly gloating? - decide to come piling in (oh, how righteous and virtuous we are!) to put the boot in and to enjoy their humiliation and mortification. Probably it makes us feel a little better about ourselves… “Well, at least I’ve never done anything like that!” But in reality it just exposes our insecurities and adds to the poisonous air we are breathing all the time. And it covers us with a veneer of self-righteousness.

Most of us have probably managed to stay clear of the really “big” sins: murder, adultery, theft, violence and so on. But have I never hated? or been jealous? or said hurtful words? or been lazy? or turned away from somebody with a claim on my care? or harboured proud thoughts? Have I ever given serious thought to the words of Jesus – that hatred and anger are tantamount to murder, that lustful thoughts are tantamount to adultery? (Matthew 5:21-30). Is it time I did?

We read in 1 Corinthians 13:6 that “love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth”. Yes, the truth must – will – ultimately come out concerning all things. But that is an alarming thought even for those of us who like to think we are basically “good” people. Feeling sympathy for a shamed, humiliated sinner is, I hope, an appropriately Christlike response in such a situation: “There but for the grace of God go I”.

One of the greatest moments in the gospels is when Jesus stood to address the “woman taken in adultery” (John 8:1-11). Her persecutors, confronted by Jesus, have lost their enthusiasm for stoning her to death and melted sheepishly away; whereupon we read: “Jesus straightened up and asked her, ‘Woman, where are they? Has no-one condemned you?’ ‘No-one, sir,’ she said. ‘Then neither do I condemn you’, Jesus declared. ‘Go now and leave your life of sin’.”

Lord Jesus, thank you that your tenderness and compassion reach even to the worst of sinners, including me. Thank you that you came into this world not to condemn it, but to save it. Help me to remember this when I am tempted to self-righteousness, and to hold out the good news of your forgiveness even to those who may be burning with shame. Amen.

The poison of arrogance

Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment… Romans 12:3 

Already you have all you want! Already you have become rich! You have begun to reign  - and that without us! How I wish that you really had begun to reign, so that we also might reign with you! 1 Corinthians 4:8-9

To the angel of the church in Laodicea write… You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.  Revelation 3:14,17

Do you know anyone who is arrogant? The very word is ugly, and there are plenty of alternatives: self-righteous, proud, vain, too big for their boots, complacent, a bit fond of themselves, over-confident… We might apply it to a neighbour, to someone at work or some organisation we belong to. However we describe it, the plain fact is that we just don’t like it: “Who do they think they are…?” we mutter.

But we need to be careful – the three quotes above make it clear that arrogance can rear its ugly head among God’s people. In Romans 12:3 Paul addresses individual church members; in 1 Corinthians 4:8-9 he addresses (not without a heavy dose of sarcasm!) a whole church; and in Revelation 3:14,17 Jesus addresses the church of Laodicea as a whole.

Could it just possibly be that you, or I, are guilty of arrogance? Could it just possibly be that the church we belong to is guilty of arrogance?

If we read the whole of the letter of Jesus to the church in Laodicea – that’s all of Revelation 3:14-22 – we find that the essence of their problem is that they are self-deluded; they’re so smug that they just can’t see what is obvious to everybody else.

They are “luke-warm”, when no doubt they think they are red-hot Christians. They think thy are “rich”, no doubt meaning in spiritual terms, when in fact they are “wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked” (that’s not a pretty list, is it!). They think they are specially precious to Jesus, but they are blissfully unaware that he is (verse 16) “about to spit them out of his mouth” (just try picturing that!).

Churches that come across as arrogant probably fall into one of two traps.

First, they may have grown impressively and therefore have all the trappings of what the world calls “success”: fine buildings, bulging congregations, plenty of money, a wide range of activities, and gifted people to run them.

And what’s wrong with that? Nothing at all, of course. Would that more churches answered to that kind of description!

But the question may arise: what of the spirit of such churches? Is there a subconscious “We’ve made it!” mentality: or, as the Laodiceans thought, “I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing”? Could it be that what started as a humble gathering of ordinary Christians, Christians who knew very well their total dependence on the Holy Spirit, has curdled into something that Jesus’ tongue finds distasteful – indeed, something spittable, if I may invent a word.

In America some years ago I made a point of visiting two quite famous “mega-churches” in a big city. Certainly, all those “trappings of success” were there, but I found it hard not to feel that the atmosphere of one was humble, edifying and Spirit-led, while the other – well, this could of course just be me, but let’s say that I was glad to get away at the end.

I was reminded of a basic Bible principle: Only God’s opinion ultimately matters. Obvious, when you stop to think about it.

Second, churches that come across as arrogant may be those which pride themselves primarily on their doctrinal accuracy; perhaps they have fallen into the trap of seeing themselves not so much as communities of brothers and sisters in Christ, but as teaching centres where all that seems to matter is an accurate understanding of scripture.

In my student years, many years ago now, I used to attend such a church, and I still think with gratitude of all I learned as a young Christian. But in the years since, I have discovered that – how shall I put this? – there was a lot I needed to unlearn. Such churches can easily breed a mentality of “We’re the only real Christians around here”, and decline to recognise as truly Christian other churches which may interpret scripture differently, and refuse to co-operate with them.

To be fair to them, they are determined to open up God’s word with strict accuracy, which of course is vitally important. But can it also result in a mentality of fear, a nervousness of displeasing God by getting some minor aspect of teaching wrong? And may it thus come across as dry and intellectual, creating a community that has unwittingly “quenched the Holy Spirit” (1 Thessalonians 5:19)?

There’s a balance we need to strike here. On the one hand we should be people of strong, bold convictions, refusing to water down timeless biblical truths; on the other hand we should be humble and teachable enough to say, “Of course, I could be wrong”, even willing to change. After all, Jesus said of prophets – people who professed to teach the truth - “By their fruit you shall know them”, not by their doctrinal correctness (Matthew 7:15-23).

We might say of an arrogant person, “He really makes something of himself!” But let’s not forget that it was said of Jesus, the perfect living Word of God, “he made nothing of himself …he humbled himself” (Philippians 2:7-8). Isn’t that our calling too?

Father, forgive me if there are times when I love Jesus too little and myself too much. Teach me the humility of him who “made himself nothing” even to the extent of dying on the cross. Amen.

When heaven and earth meet

When Jacob woke from his sleep, he thought, “Surely the Lord was in this place, and I didn’t know it… How awesome is this place! This is nothing other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven”. Genesis 28:16-17

Jesus said, “Very truly I tell you, you will see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man”. John 1:51

Jacob is in trouble. More than once he has shown himself to be a nasty, lying individual. He has taken advantage of his perhaps rather gullible twin brother Esau. Most recently he has schemed with their mother Rebekah to deceive their father Isaac, who is old and blind, and so robbed Esau of Isaac’s fatherly blessing. Putting it crudely, he is what might be called “a nasty piece of work”.

And now he is on the run. Esau, understandably, has a grudge against him and declares his intention to kill him (Genesis 27:41), so Rebekah packs him off to find refuge with her brother Laban in the distant town of Harran. So far, so not very good.

But on his lonely journey something happens that transforms his life (Genesis 28:10-22)…

He reaches “a certain place”. This could be anywhere – only later do we learn its name. He’s ready for sleep. So, taking a convenient stone to use as a pillow, he lies down. And… he dreams.

“He saw a stairway resting on the earth, with its top reaching to heaven, and the angels of God ascending and descending on it. There above it stood the Lord, who said ‘I am the Lord, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac…’”

In the following verses God renews for Jacob the covenant he had made earlier with Abraham and Isaac, the promise of great prosperity – and of great, historic usefulness: “All peoples on earth will be blessed through you and your offspring. I am with you and will watch over you…” That’s some promise!

There are many truths we can draw from this dramatic event. At the heart of it is the sheer grace of God: how he treats so well somebody who has behaved so badly. If that’s not grace, I don’t know what is!

If, by the way, you find yourself almost wanting to tell God off for acting unjustly, well, you won’t be the first person down through history to feel that way. But the answer to that is to remind ourselves that, in principle if not in detail, not a single one of us is any different from Jacob. After all, “we have all sinned and fall short of the glory of God”, as Paul explains (Romans 3:23). Without God’s grace, where would any of us be?

Another lesson can be drawn by comparing this event linking heaven and earth with that massive building project described in Genesis 11: the tower of Babel, a “tower that reaches to the heavens”. Proud and stupid humankind embark on this to “make a name for ourselves” – and of course it all comes to nothing: “they stopped building the city… and the Lord scattered them over the face of the whole earth”.

And likewise we, if we try to build anything – including our very lives – apart from God, we are doomed to failure. We are simply incapable of climbing up to God; but the good news of the gospel is that we don’t need to, for he has come down to us, as Jacob learned that night, and as Jesus was, rather mysteriously, to promise later to Nathanael (John 1:51).

Deep and precious things. But what struck me most forcibly, re-reading the story, were Jacob’s words as he absorbed what had happened: “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I didn’t know it”. The point being: “this place” was a bit of a nothing location, with no name that Jacob was aware of, the sort of place you pass through purely in order to get somewhere else, what we might call “the middle of nowhere” or “the back of beyond”.

A dry, scrubby bit of semi-desert, yet… God was there, and chose to reveal himself. A nothing place, maybe - yet Jacob was moved to call it “Bethel” (“the house of God”!) and “the gate of heaven”.

Buildings and “sacred spaces” in which to meet and worship God are often significant, and should not be undervalued. But they are not essential, for God can be met and enjoyed in any place where he sees fit to make himself known. This can happen even for somebody like Jacob who may very well have been totally neglectful of him. How much more, then, can it happen for the person whose heart is open to know his presence and experience his love?

Certainly, it’s not likely to happen in the dramatic kind of way it happened for Jacob! But who knows what God might see fit to do? We hear wonderful stories of people who meet with God in circumstances of war, tragedy, sickness, imprisonment or disaster. And even in the routine business of dull, ordinary, everyday life – even in that grey, dismal period after the excitement of Christmas and new year – let’s never doubt that God is there, even though we didn’t know it, and that we can have our own little “Bethel”.

Christian, expect an encounter with God today, however unpromising the prospect may seem!

Father, whatever this day may bring, however drab and ordinary it seems, may I, when I come to its end, be able to say with Jacob, “Yes, surely the Lord is in this place!” Amen.