A reason for living

...whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.   1 Corinthians 10:31.

A simple question: What are you living for?

When you plant your feet on the floor by your bed in the morning, what motivates you? Is it mainly a sense of duty and responsibility? The need to make money? The desire to enjoy yourself? Sheer habit? None of these things are necessarily bad. But should they be our top priority?

According to the Bible, we are called to live first and foremost "for the glory of God".

Glory. That word is hard to pin down. It conjures up the idea of God's majesty and power made known on earth - as when Moses saw him on Mount Sinai, or when the disciples saw the risen Christ at the transfiguration. That’s glory.

In the Old Testament glory has a root meaning of "weight", "heaviness". Heavy things often tend to be worth more than light things. My wife and I have a set of dinner plates given us as a wedding present - and they are heavy. You only have to pick one up to sense its quality. So the glory of God is to do with his worth, his value, his sheer importance.

In the New Testament glory also has the sense of "reputation". This is a helpful way to understand what Paul is talking about in our verse from 1 Corinthians: whatever you do, he is saying, have in mind God’s reputation. How will what I am about to do reflect on God?

It may seem strange, but if you read the whole passage you find that Paul is talking about the most ordinary things you could imagine - food and drink. He is saying that Christians may have differing views on, say, being or not being a vegetarian, drinking or not drinking alcohol. They may disagree about what company it’s all right to keep for dinner parties. "But don't get worked up about it!" he says. "Just make sure that whatever you eat and drink you do it to the glory of God." In other words, in your attitude to this most ordinary thing, remember that God's reputation is at stake.

The fact is that in all the everyday things of life we have a duty and responsibility to ensure that God's reputation - his name - is unsullied. This means we need to ask ourselves a few questions...

Do I do my supermarket shopping to the glory of God? Am I polite to other customers? Do I exchange a friendly word with the person at the check-out? When I’m driving, do I drive my car to the glory of God? Am I courteous to other road users (not least pedestrians). Do I let the bus out first? Do I jump the lights? Do I keep to the speed limit? Do I do the house-hold chores to the glory of God? Cheerfully or grumblingly? Whole-heartedly or shoddily? And what about my day-time job, if I have one? Do I do a fair day's work for a fair day's pay? Do I try and get away with the bare minimum required, or really give of my best?

I could go on. I think it was CS Lewis who said that when he became a Christian he found that what changed wasn’t so much the things he did and didn’t do, but the spirit with which he did them.

The seventeenth century poet George Herbert put it like this:

Teach me, my God and King,

In all things Thee to see,

And what I do in anything

To do it as for Thee.

        A servant with this clause

Makes drudgery divine

 Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws

Makes that and the action fine.

Yes, we can even make drudgery divine if we have a truly God-glorifying attitude. Have you ever cleaned a toilet to the glory of God? (For discussion: What would it actually mean in practical terms to clean a toilet, or cut the grass, or do a tedious office job, or chair an awkward meeting for the glory of God?)

In fact (here's a thought!) there's only one thing in our lives which we can't do to the glory of God. What’s that? Sin. A person who aims to do everything to the glory of God will make every effort to get rid of every trace of sin from his or her life. Putting it another way, if there’s anything we really can’t do for the glory of God, well, we shouldn’t be doing it at all.

If only we could maintain this attitude consistently day by day - it would make new people of us. And it would make a real impact on the people who know us. Go out this week and do all things - yes, literally all things - for the glory of God.
 
Father, forgive me that my life tends to be so me-centred. Through the power of your Holy Spirit please teach me to live for your glory, and your glory alone.  Amen.

Why bother with preaching?

Preach the word... 2 Timothy 4:2

I received a very kind email recently. It was from someone in a church where I had preached. He thanked me for my visit and added, “It was a very enjoyable service”. 

Well, we all like a bit of praise, me as much as anyone; so my first reaction was, I confess, a little preening. But then I found myself stubbing my toe, so to speak, against that word “enjoyable”. Are services supposed to be “enjoyable”? Are sermons supposed to be “enjoyable”? I decided the answer was No with a capital N.

I don’t want to seem critical of that man. Very likely he hadn’t thought much about his choice of words, and “enjoyable” sprang to mind as a way of expressing general appreciation. But still it struck a jarring note. It made worship and preaching seem like a song or comedy turn or some other form of entertainment. 

It’s hard to imagine Jeremiah denouncing the waywardness of the people of Jerusalem, or John the Baptist dramatically calling people to repentance, or Peter, on the Day of Pentecost, accusing his hearers of killing Jesus - hard to imagine scenes like this, and people then turning to one another, smiling, and saying “That was an enjoyable message.” 

(I heard of an Anglican bishop who, reflecting on his ministry, asked ruefully why it was that “everywhere Paul went they had a riot; everywhere I go they make cups of tea.” Well, there are times when cups of teas are what is needed, so I hope he wasn’t too hard on himself. But I think he had his finger on a point that all of us, Anglican or otherwise, might take to heart.)

What word might be appropriate to express appreciation of preaching? Here are a few candidates: inspiring; challenging; uplifting; comforting; thought-provoking. I think I’d be more than happy with any of those. But enjoyable...?

Somebody said that the aim of preaching is “to comfort the disturbed and to disturb the comfortable.” Neat! And not bad, I reckon. But it’s worth probing a little more deeply to try and tease out exactly what we think preaching is for - or, at least, what it should be for. 

I suggest three things.

First, preaching aims to instruct our minds.

Preaching, even with the various forms of visual aids we are increasingly used to, is essentially words, and words are primarily addressed to our minds. We are being given a message of some sort, and the way we process it is with our minds. A sermon which doesn’t tell me something I didn’t know before or (perhaps more likely) remind me of something I have forgotten, is a waste of time. 

I mentioned earlier Peter’s Pentecost Day sermon (Acts 2), and it is striking how much of it consists of factual information. Of course, to suggest that the gospel in particular and God’s word in general are nothing more than mere information would be well wide of the mark. But they certainly aren’t less.

This reminds us that we need teaching. Truth isn’t automatically acquired; it has to be listened to and digested. And this applies above all to the truth about God and so-called “spiritual” things.

Second, preaching aims to stir our hearts.

We are called to love God. True, love is more, a whole lot more, than simply emotion; but again, it isn’t less. The Bible encompasses a wide range of feelings - love, hate, hope, fear, doubt, compassion, yearning, anger, joy.

Even if our preaching is not especially emotional (think of the Welsh preacher’s sing-song hwl, or the African-Caribbean’s soaring rhetoric), something is missing if it doesn’t move us. This, I sometimes think, is an area where those of us preachers who are college-trained and book-learned can be lacking. God’s truth is heart-stirring truth, and our preaching should reflect that.

Third, preaching aims to shape our wills. 

Yet again, Christianity is certainly not just about right and wrong, but it is very lacking if morality and ethics don’t figure prominently. Loving our enemies, being strictly honest, maintaining moral purity, returning good for evil, seeking justice and peace, working day by day for God’s glory - all these commands call for the exercise of our wills, and in this sense preaching should be challenging.

Our wills take time to be reshaped in the likeness of Christ, and the process can only be effective by the power of the Holy Spirit. But that is our ultimate vision. And so preaching that leaves us just as we were has to that extent failed.

In a nutshell, preaching is intended as a God-given agent of change. The change may be of that tiny incremental kind that we barely notice, like the daily physical growth of a child, but which is real nonetheless; or it may be of that great kind that we call “conversion”; or it may be anywhere in between. 

Paul says that we who follow Jesus are “being changed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18). God wants us, ultimately, to be like him, and preaching is an important part of the means whereby this happens.

Well, as I said, I didn’t feel easy about being told my sermon was enjoyable. But I must confess that I took real pleasure (I hope not seriously sinful!) in a remark made by one of the “yoof” after a service one Sunday. This was at a time when (don’t ask me why or how) the word “wicked” had become a term of high praise. I went away glowing after being told, “Wicked sermon, Col.”

What he really meant, of course, was “Thank you, dear pastor, for a sermon which I have found edifying, challenging, uplifting, comforting and thoroughly helpful. It has truly instructed my mind, moved my heart and challenged my will.”

That’s my story, anyway, and I’m sticking to it...

Lord God, bless all those who preach and teach your word, that they will do so with power and integrity; and also all who hear, that their lives will be changed into the likeness of Jesus. Amen.

No compromise!

The man’s face fell. He went away sad... Mark 10:22

As Christians we naturally focus on things Jesus did - he calmed the storm, he healed the sick, he welcomed sinners, he opened blind eyes, he even raised the dead. 

But sometimes it’s worth reflecting too on things he didn’t do.

A young man comes and kneels before him. He wants to know how he can “inherit eternal life”. He is obviously genuine, for he risks humiliation by making this request in a very public way. Jesus responds with a really tough demand: “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor... Then come and follow me...”

This is the point where we read that “his face fell and he went away sad.” Personally, I imagine a second or two of total silence as the man, shocked, digests what Jesus has said. If somebody was making a film of the scene, the camera would zoom in on his face - “No, surely not! Is he serious! Can I really do that! That’s just too much to ask!”

Everybody waits with bated breath. It’s a massive moment as he slowly turns and walks forlornly away. Can you see him, with his head down and his shoulders hunched?

And what is it that Jesus doesn’t do? He doesn’t shout after him, “Come back! Wait a minute. Perhaps we can talk it over.” He doesn’t negotiate. He doesn’t try to make it easier for him.

So?

Well, we are living at a time when, according to the statistics, the churches in the main are shrinking. People are “leaving in droves” according to the rather dramatic expression sometimes used by the papers. Not entirely true, of course - some churches are experiencing encouraging growth. But close enough for discomfort.

A natural reflex to this situation is to do what Jesus didn’t do: to compromise, to make it easier for people, to water down our message. And also to “beat ourselves up” over the situation. “We’re failing! We’re no good! We’re driving people away.”

Certainly it can only be good to take a hard look at ourselves as Christians and church members and to ask where we may be going wrong. No doubt we are at fault in many ways, and there is no room for complacency.

But are we guilty sometimes of forgetting that people are also personally answerable for how they respond, or don’t respond, to God and to the gospel? Doesn’t some of the responsibility rest fairly and squarely on their shoulders? We may feel sad as they seem to turn away; but need we necessarily feel bad as well? Isn’t that how Jesus felt that day?

Is there an irony here? The young man in the story went away sad because the demands Jesus made were too high. But I wonder if today people sometimes turn away because the demands we make are too low. We are so anxious to draw them and then to keep them that we soft-pedal the call of Jesus to give our everything to him, indeed, to “take up the cross and follow him”. We allow people to think that they can meet Christ’s call with a shrug of the shoulders; we have turned it into a take-it-or-leave-it thing. 

Putting it bluntly, is it wrong to be so, well, nice all the time? Psychologists tell us, after all, that people are more likely to respond positively to a real challenge than to a milk-and-water suggestion. 

Some years ago I got to know a lady who came to church just occasionally. (To be fair, she had mobility problems, so getting along could be difficult.) I made it my business to visit her regularly; we used to talk and pray together, but there never seemed to be any response to the gospel.

It gradually dawned on me that the main reason she welcomed my visits was just to have a good chat. I don’t particularly blame her for that, of course, but it seemed that while she happily put up with the “spiritual” bits and the prayer they didn’t really mean anything to her. 

One day, while I was praying for her on my own, I felt God was telling me that these visits were not time well spent - ministers, believe it or not, are pretty busy people, and I had plenty of other calls on my time. I decided I needed to talk frankly to her. I told her that if ever there was a serious need she could call me and I would be round, but that otherwise I didn’t feel I would be able to continue my regular visits. I promised her my continuing prayers. And I reminded her of Jesus’ love and of his call on her life.

Well, within weeks she was getting to church pretty regularly. She asked for some basic Bible teaching in her home. And within a few months I had the privilege of baptising her into the body of Christ.

Was Jesus wrong to take a tough stance with that young man? Of course not. Was I wrong to take a tough stance with that woman? I dare to think not. 

Lord Jesus, thank you for your plain speech and your uncompromising demands. Help me to receive them for myself, and also to set them clearly before others. Amen.

Stop and give thanks

For everything God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, because it is consecrated by the word of God and prayer. 1 Timothy 4:4-5

Do you “say grace” before meals? 

When I was converted, fifty years ago now, it was the normal thing among Christians. Every time you sat down to eat - your main meal, anyway - somebody would offer a short prayer of thanks for the food. Often this would be a set formula: “For these and all your mercies we give you thanks, O God”, or “For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful”. Other times it would be extempore, though variations on such a limited theme were bound to be equally limited.

Saying grace, or “giving thanks” as perhaps we might call it today, can throw up some interesting situations. 

I remember a young people’s weekend away when, on the last evening, we decided to treat ourselves to a meal at a restaurant in the nearest town. After we had all piled into this unsuspecting place, about twenty scruffy teenagers plus equally scruffy leaders, one of my fellow-leaders (I could have cheerfully strangled her on the spot) brightly suggested “Why don’t we sing grace instead of just saying it?” To my horror and dismay (I am a pretty buttoned-up person!) everybody seemed to think this was a great idea, so a not terribly tuneful “Praise God from whom all blessings flow” rang out loudly across the restaurant.

And you know what? Initial surprise gave way to friendly smiles from the other customers. All right, they probably thought we were a bit loopy, but no one seemed to mind.

I remember too when our children were little and started to insist on saying grace. Mark, our younger son, didn’t like to miss anything out, so off he went: “Thank you, Jesus and God [his grasp of the doctrine of the trinity was somewhat limited at that stage], for the cars and the houses and the trees and the people...” I think he usually got round to the meal in the end, but not before we had been metaphorically drumming our impatient fingers on the table while the food got cold.

Well, my impression is that this custom is dying out, and I think it’s rather a shame. This isn’t just me being a hide-bound traditionalist; I don’t think Paul’s words about “receiving food with thanksgiving” necessarily imply a legalistic habit. But I think there are good reasons for obeying them at certain times.

For one thing, we read that Jesus gave thanks, as was the Jewish custom, before meals (John 6:11, Matthew 14:19, where the detail is added that he  “looked up to heaven”, 1 Corinthians 11:23-24). You might think that fact alone should be good enough for the rest of us.

Still more, isn’t there value in making space, however tiny, for focus on God in the busy-ness of our lives? He is very easily squeezed out, and as long as we don’t reduce “giving thanks” to a mere formula trotted out mechanically, why shouldn’t it be a moment of encounter with God?

Don’t forget that it is possible to be at least a little creative: “grace” doesn’t have to be exclusively about the food. You’ve heard of someone taken into hospital a couple of hours earlier? Well, why not say a prayer for them first? Someone’s starting a new job tomorrow? facing a difficult exam? worried about a child’s health? All right, this isn’t the moment for a full-blown prayer-meeting, but...

It can be a bit tricky, of course, when you have guests, especially if they aren’t Christians. You don’t want to embarrass people. But equally, this is your home, after all. My wife and I have adopted the practice of simply saying something like “We usually say a short prayer before we eat, so we hope you will bear with us for a moment”. If we’re in someone else’s home we’re happy, of course, to respect their customs.

Every prayer offered from the heart is precious to God, however brief. And any opportunity to bring God consciously into our lives is to be seized; in Jesus even the most “secular” moments are also “sacred”. He is always there, of course we know that. But why not make a point of acknowledging the fact?

Lord God, help us to recognise your holy presence even in the ordinary situations of everyday life, not least when we are receiving food from your generous hand. Amen.