When godly people do godless things (part 2)

As he was about to enter Egypt, Abram said to his wife Sarai, “I know what a beautiful woman you are. When the Egyptians see you, they will say, ‘This is his wife’. Then they will kill me but will let you live. Say that you are my sister, so that I will be treated well for your sake and my life will be spared because of you.” Genesis 12:11-13

Last time we thought about how a good man like Abram could be guilty of such cruel and dishonest behaviour. My answer was simple: no child of God, then or now, is above the danger of lapsing into shameful actions; we are still prey to temptation. 

So we should take it as a warning - as Paul puts it in1 Corinthians 10:12: “If you think you are standing, be careful that you don’t fall!”

But the episode also prompted a second question: Could Sarai have done more?

The writer of Genesis doesn’t say that Sarai objected to Abram’s request. She may have done, of course; but if she did, we aren’t told. Wouldn’t it be good, though, if verse 13 had some extra words? - something like: “But Sarai said, ‘No, my husband, no! Don’t force me to do something we both know is wrong’.”
Could Sarai have done that?

I just don’t know. In the world of that time men were in charge, and women were expected to obey. So even if she had mustered the courage to protest, no doubt Abram could have over-ridden her. She is in a pretty hopeless position.

However, we do know that marriages in the ancient world were not necessarily loveless or forced. In Genesis 24 we read about Isaac and Rebekah. Certainly, their marriage was arranged. But Rebekah was given the right to say no (verses 8 and 57-58). And the chapter ends with the simple and rather beautiful words: “she became his wife, and he loved her” (verse 67).

A little later, in chapter 29, we read about the marriage of Jacob and Rachel. “Jacob was in love with Rachel,” says verse 18 - so much so that he offered to work for seven years for her father Laban.

We’re told nothing about how Abram and Sarai came to be married, but quite possibly there was genuine love - and therefore a genuine relationship. In which case, why shouldn’t Sarai have raised a protest when Abram made his suggestion?

Well, it’s not for me to criticise Sarai - of course not. I wouldn’t like to have been in her shoes. 

Whatever, there are a couple of positive and challenging points we can take from her part in the story.

First... Even if it was impossible for her to take a stand against wrong, it isn’t for most of us! - especially those of us who live in countries where we have freedom of speech.

Here’s a question (which, of course, I put to myself as much as to anyone else): Have you ever stood by in silence when some clear wrong was being done? Perhaps a lie was being told, and you didn’t have the courage to speak up? Perhaps, in your place of work, some sharp practice was going on and everyone else was turning a blind eye - so you did the same?

It’s said that evil prospers when good people do nothing; and it’s true. Thank God for those brave people - “whistle-blowers” they call them - who are prepared to risk their jobs, perhaps even their very lives, for what they see as right. They are often dismissed as trouble-makers or attention-seekers, and there may sometimes be truth in that. But not always.

God give us courage to do what may well have been impossible for Sarai - to stand up for what is right and true; to stand against what is false and wrong!

Second... I think that Sarai can be for us a symbol of victimhood.

In the ancient world women were indeed often exploited and treated merely as property. And we say, quite rightly, how terrible that is. But wait a minute! - in many parts of the world very little has changed. Girls and women - not to mention children - are often forced into the sex-trade or other degrading activities. 

And it’s not only girls and women. Just this week, here in Britain, we have seen news reports of men treated virtually as slaves by unscrupulous “employers” - living in filthy, squalid conditions, fed very little, and paid next to nothing.

If nothing else, Sarai can stand as a reminder to us of the millions of people all over the world - women, men and children - who have been robbed of their rights, their dignity and their freedom.

As Christians it is our duty - not to say our privilege - to speak up on behalf of such people. To borrow the tag-line of the human rights charity Christian Solidarity Worldwide (CSW), we can be “a voice for the voiceless”.

We must pray, of course; that goes without saying. But how about also joining and supporting one of the various organisations like CSW that are trying to make a practical difference?

If we are Christians, standing by and doing nothing just isn’t an option. Let’s pray - and act - on behalf of the millions of Sarais in this world!

Lord God, grant us the courage to stand up against evil when we see it around us - and also the compassion to act on behalf of those who have no power. Amen.

When godly people do godless things

As he was about to enter Egypt, Abram said to his wife Sarai, “I know what a beautiful woman you are. When the Egyptians see you, they will say, ‘This is his wife’. Then they will kill me but will let you live. Say that you are my sister, so that I will be treated well for your sake and my life will be spared because of you.” Genesis 12:11-13

I imagine that in every marriage there are times when husband and wife have to have a rather difficult conversation.

And I imagine that this was the case between Abram and Sarai when (along with their wider family, servants and livestock) they decided to visit Egypt to escape famine in Canaan.

Abram begins to see a snag in what at first seemed a great idea…

“Er, Sarai, I’m beginning to have second thoughts about going into Egypt. The Egyptian kings are very powerful men, you know, and they like to have lots of wives. Now, you’re a very beautiful woman, so I’m afraid the king might want to take you into his harem, and to get me out of the way I might be killed. I’ll tell you what – let’s pretend that you’re my sister, not my wife; then the king can have you as an unmarried woman, and there’ll be no reason to kill me. Are you happy with that?”

(We aren’t told what Sarai’s reply was…)

To my mind this episode prompts two big questions.

First, how on earth could Abram stoop to such shabby, shameful behaviour?

Remember, this is the man chosen by God to be the founding father of his people on earth. He was a man of great faith, impressively obedient to God’s call to leave everything he knew and to step out into the unknown (see Genesis 12:1-5).

Yet suddenly now, as he stands at the border of Egypt, he is gripped with fear and plain cowardice. Where is his faith now!

Fear leads to lies – he gets Sarai to agree to practice deception in order to save his skin. And, in the process, he treats her with total contempt, with a complete disregard for her dignity as a person. In effect, he plans to sell her off – and to pick up a pretty handsome bride-price as a result (verse 16).

Nice work, Abram!

So back to the question: How could this happen?

The simple answer is this. Both the Bible and Christian history demonstrate only too clearly the sad truth: very godly people can do very godless things.

Moses “killed the Egyptian and buried his body in the sand” (Exodus 2:12). David committed adultery with Bathsheba and arranged the death of her husband (2 Samuel 11). Simon Peter, having sworn undying allegiance to Jesus, ended up cursing and swearing in a very different way as he denied all knowledge of him (Matthew 26).

There can be no excuses, of course; but the fact is… it happens.

Even the greatest men and women of God are still far from perfect, and therefore subject to lapses. Perhaps it’s all the more likely to happen when someone has been on a spiritual high and, in reaction, lets their guard down. Remember how the prophet Elijah collapsed into a great quivering heap of self-pity immediately after his miraculous victory over the powers of darkness (1 Kings 18-19).

Christian history is littered with examples of fine, Spirit-filled people who – perhaps in a moment of weakness, perhaps in a moment of madness, perhaps at a time of special stress or difficulty – act as weakly or as despicably as Abram.

But what really matters is… it can happen to us too – yes, even to us who are permanently indwelt by God’s Holy Spirit.

We can of course draw comfort from the fact that Abram was forgiven by God. As were David and Moses and Elijah and Peter and all the rest. But be careful! The message still stands: no complacency! God can be appealed to, but he is not to be presumed upon.

Paul sums it up perfectly in 1 Corinthians 10:12: “If you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall.” Yes, the battle against sin and temptation will last until the day we die. 
Putting it more light-heartedly: we are all works in progress, not yet the finished article. As the wall-poster says: “Be patient; God hasn’t finished with me yet!”

Abram acted in a way which, I suspect (and hope!), he later hated himself for. Is this a warning you or I need as we reflect today on his sad fall?

Father God, thank you for the honesty of your word, and for the way it portrays great people of faith with all their faults and failings. Help me to take these warnings seriously, and not to fall into the same trap. Amen.

(I said the story of Abram and Sarai prompted two questions in my mind, but I’ve only had space to open up one. So I’ll keep the other one till next time: Could Sarai have done more?)

Distant God or loving Father?

The Spirit you received brought about your adoption. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father”. The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Romans 8:15-16

I wonder what it’s like to learn that you were adopted as a baby?

Hopefully you had a secure and happy childhood, and it never so much as dawned on you that your parents were anything but – well, your parents, just like everyone else’s. But then a day came, perhaps in your early teens, when they took you aside and said “We need to tell you something…”

I can only imagine. It’s not a place where I have stood – but I have known one or two people who have. Perhaps you have too (in which case I would love to hear from you).

I imagine your first reaction might simply be one of shock, because the whole landscape of your life has suddenly changed. Then you might feel confused, hurt and even angry. But I hope that once it has all sunk in the main feeling is one of gratitude.

After all, to take the step of adopting someone else’s child is a wonderful thing to do. Even if you go through the rest of your life wondering what might have been, the fact is that someone – probably a total stranger – demonstrated extraordinary love and compassion, all at real cost.

Well, Paul tells us here in Romans that when we put our faith in Jesus, God adopts us into his family. He becomes our Father.

Many years ago I picked up a little paperback. It was written by a Muslim, and the title was I dared to call him ‘Father’. I don’t remember much about it now, but the writer described her conversion to Christ out of Islam. And the clinching moment, as far as I can remember, was when she took a deep breath and did something no Muslim would ever normally think of doing: she addressed God – yes, Allah himself! – as “Father”. Her life was never the same again.

May I ask: Do you think of God as your Father? Do you call him Father?

To know you are adopted by God changes everything.

First, it gives you a status.

We should never boast about being God’s children; this is not something we have earned or deserved. We become his children not because of anything we do, but because of what Jesus did in dying and rising for us.

But even though this status is not something we have deserved, it is a status nonetheless. It sets us apart. Paul goes on in the next verse to say that, as well as being God’s children, we become also “co-heirs with Christ.” Jesus, in other words, is in effect our brother, and so we share in the eternal destiny he has won. We are massively privileged.

Do you live day by day conscious of your privileged status?

Second, it gives you an assurance.

Many people have only the vaguest idea of what will happen to them after death. Their ideas may well be full of superstition – perhaps just “hoping for the best.”

But Paul adds a little further on that we will “share in Christ’s glory.”

A day is coming when the affairs of this world will be wound up once and for all. Jesus will return not as the-Saviour-to-be-crucified but as the-Lord-to-be-glorified. And that eternal glory of heaven itself will belong also to us, because we belong to him.

So… we can anticipate this future with complete confidence. As John puts it, “We shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is” (1John 3:3). The heavenly Father who adopted us is not going to “un-adopt” us! Let’s stress again, this isn’t because we have made ourselves good enough by what we have done, but because Jesus has done all that is needed.

Do you have real assurance about your eternal salvation?

Third, it gives you a responsibility.

Families have a likeness – and this is true even in God’s adopted family. And what is the family likeness of God’s family? In one word: holiness. God is a perfect and holy God, pure and sinless.

So if we are his children, nothing less than this should be our aim day by day. True, we will never reach perfection in this earthly life, but we should be preparing for that day when we will indeed “be like him.” Sometimes that will be hard, but let’s make no mistake – it is in fact our deepest joy and fulfilment.

Do you aim to be like Jesus in all you do and say and think?

To sum up… We are God’s adopted children! So let’s enjoy the status, let’s find peace in the assurance, and let’s measure up to the responsibility!

Heavenly Father, thank you for adopting me as your child. May the beauty of Jesus be seen in me more and more each day. Amen.

What a performance...!

David went to bring up the ark of God from the house of Obed-Edom to the City of David with rejoicing… Wearing a linen ephod, he was dancing before the Lord with all his might… As the ark of the Lord was entering the city of David, Michal daughter of Saul watched from a window. And when she saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord, she despised him in her heart. 2 Samuel 6:12-16

Here’s a straight question that calls for an honest answer: Do you ever despise people from your heart?

One particular example: do you ever despise them because of the way they choose to express their love of God?

Think of two extremes in Christian worship. At one end of the spectrum is the full-on, uninhibited “happy-clappy”. His or her worship might be quite wildly uncontrolled, involving tongues-speaking, dancing, falling on the floor, you name it. At the other end is very controlled “liturgical” worship. This involves people dressed in robes and vestments, with processions, incense, chanting and, again, you name it.

Eyeing one another over a wide gulf, each group is tempted to consider itself superior to the other: and that is where the danger of despising the other group arises.

2 Samuel 6 tells us that Michal, David’s first wife, “despised him in her heart” (verse 16). Why? Well, he was heading a triumphant procession to bring the sacred chest, the “ark of the Lord”, up to his new capital city of Jerusalem. And she saw him from her window, wearing only some kind of light linen garment, and “leaping and dancing before the Lord”.

As far as Michal was concerned he was, to use an old-fashioned expression, making an exhibition of himself. Later, when they’re alone, she delivers a scathing, sarcastic blast: “How the king of Israel has distinguished himself today, going around half-naked in full view of the slave-girls of his servants as any vulgar fellow would!” (verse 20).

David hits back – and hard: he strongly defends his behaviour, and bitingly tells her that it was God he was wanting to please, not her, so he’ll take no lessons from her, thank you very much. The writer then tells us that Michal “had no children till the day of her death” – presumably because she never again shared his bed.

Michal despised David. David rejected Michal. Which raises the question: who was right and who was wrong?

The Bible gives no clear answer to that question; but there can be little doubt that it is basically on David’s side. For all his many faults he was a passionate lover of God, and though he sometimes expressed this love in ways that might seem rather exaggerated, his heart was right.

We should bear in mind too that the event described in 2 Samuel 6 was no routine act of worship, which I am sure would have been much more sedate.

No, it was an act of national celebration – we might compare it to a royal wedding, or the euphoria when peace is declared at the end of a war. The ark of the Lord, the sacred box at the very heart of Israel’s identity, has been through various dangerous and humiliating adventures –  but now at last it is back where it belongs! So some serious rejoicing is in order.

But perhaps we can also feel a touch of sympathy for Michal. She clearly had – what shall I call it? – a sense of decorum, which is surely a good thing. (Perhaps sometimes we could do with a bit more of it?) Michal felt that things should be done in a fitting manner, and – yes, well, having the king prancing about publicly in little more than his underwear does perhaps seem a touch “over the top”.

Indeed, had Michal been able to look a thousand years into the future, she might have felt she could quote scripture in her support. Can one imagine Christ himself – “great David’s greater Son”, as the hymn describes him – acting in this way? Doesn’t Paul, writing to the unruly Christians of Corinth, scold them and tell them that “everything should be done in a fitting and orderly way” (1 Corinthians 14:40)?

Whatever, the fact is that some forms of worship (and I’m not speaking here only of the strongly liturgical type) have the effect of killing stone dead any sense of joy or emotion in the presence of God. All very orderly… all very correct… all very proper. But – where is the living God? It is, as David said, him that we are seeking to please. Isn’t there, then, a place for letting our spiritual hair down?

The main point to take from the sad story of Michal is simple: whatever our own preference when it comes to styles of worship, we are not to despise our fellow-Christians or secretly view them with contempt.

If you feel like digesting a truly challenging word, try Philippians 2:3 for size: “…in humility regard others as better than yourselves.” Even better, the words of Jesus himself: “Do not judge, or you too will be judged” (Matthew 7:1).

Always think the best, not the worst!

Lord God, help me, by your Spirit, to love, worship and enjoy you with all my heart – whatever form that might take. Amen.

"It is the Lord!"

Then the disciple Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” John 21:7

How would you feel if one day you’re doing your job – a job you’ve been doing for many years and which you’re very good at – and some stranger comes along and starts giving you advice about it?

Say you’re a car mechanic with your head in the bonnet struggling to make a tricky adjustment, and somebody wanders into your garage and says, “Mmm, that carburettor looks a bit dodgy, don’t you think?” Or you’re a cardiac surgeon rummaging around inside somebody’s heart and someone drifts into the operating theatre and comments on the way you’re dealing with a particular artery?

You probably wouldn’t feel, as they say, best pleased. You might even tell them to, er, go away.

And who could blame you?

The disciples of Jesus had a strange waiting period of forty days between his resurrection and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Oh, they knew he was alive, all right – in fact from time to time he appeared to them. But nothing very much seemed to be happening. What did he want of them? When could they expect to start their great task of “going and making disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19)?

A moment came when a handful of them decided to go back to what they knew, and what they had spent their lives doing: “I’m going out to fish,” said Peter. “We’ll go with you,” said the others (John 21:2-3).

And after fishing all night… they have caught nothing. Not so much as a sprat. I imagine they’re pretty cold, pretty hungry, and seriously fed up.

It’s at this point that they get some unasked for advice from a stranger standing on the shore. His voice comes to them across the water: “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you’ll find some fish.”

Huh! Who does he think he is? What business does he have telling them how to do their job?

But – perhaps from where he is standing he can see something they can’t. So, even if a bit grumpily, they follow his suggestion; and “when they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish” (John 21:6).

It’s at this point that one of them – “the disciple whom Jesus loved” – suddenly understood. “It is the Lord!” he says. Did he shout those words in sheer excitement? Or whisper them in sheer wonderment? We aren’t told; but it must have been one of those spine-tingling moments that came with the miracle of Jesus risen from the dead.

I suspect that all of us, from time to time, have “It is the Lord” moments.

All right, they won’t be as dramatic, thrilling and heart-stirring as that moment in the boat. But moments nonetheless when we sense a special presence with us of the living God.

It may happen when we are praying, or sharing in worship with others. It may be when we hear news of answered prayer. It may be in the middle of an ordinary day, just going about our business, perhaps trawling through a load of emails or changing a nappy; and there is that sudden stab of peace and joy. Or perhaps we are enjoying some special treat – a walk on a sunny day, or time with loved ones and friends – and the feeling that “all is well” is overwhelming. Persecuted Christians sometimes testify to such an experience even while cooped up in their prison cell.

Yes, it is the Lord!

The poet William Wordsworth described a fleeting moment when he was “surprised by joy” – a phrase C S Lewis famously borrowed to describe his experience of God.

Another poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins, said of God: “I greet him the days I meet him, and bless when I understand”. Well, hopefully we can “meet” God, and therefore also “greet” him, every day. But I think I know what Hopkins means. There are special moments…

I said earlier that we all sometimes have “It is the Lord” moments. But on second thoughts, I’m not so sure. How often do such moments come… and we miss them? Our minds and lives are so crowded with noise and activity, we are so obsessed with the shallow and the trivial, that, though he is there, we just don’t see him; though he is speaking, we just don’t hear him.

We mustn’t go looking for such moments, of course – the whole point is that they come out of the blue, as on that day on the Sea of Galilee.

But let’s at least be open and alert to their possibility. Let’s make sure that, day by day, our spiritual antennae are fully operational…

Lord Jesus, help me to hunger and thirst after righteousness so eagerly that I develop a deep sensitivity to your presence and your voice. Amen.

Beyond death - wishful thinking or hard facts ?

If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile… If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied. 1 Corinthians 15:17-19

I recently attended a secular funeral – that is, a funeral without any kind of “religious” content. No hymns or religious songs; no readings from the Bible or any other sacred text; no prayers. Purely reminiscences about the person who had died, threaded together with pieces of music or poems she had liked, or which were thought fitting for the delightful person she was.

There was much to admire and appreciate. The man who led the ceremony (the word “service” was not used) did so with a nice blend of dignity, warmth and informality. (He told me afterwards that he presided over this kind of gathering on request; perhaps he was a member of the local humanist society or something similar.)

As someone who has attended many Christian funerals – and indeed led even more – I was impressed. There was an honesty and simplicity which contrasted with the kind of religiosity which, I fear, can sometimes characterise religious funerals. Better honest unbelief than nominal, pasted-on faith!

But, of course, the one thing glaringly missing was the conviction that death has been defeated. And it reminded me afresh that the belief that Jesus Christ died and rose again is infinitely precious and infinitely important.

It was noticeable that even in such a secular gathering, religion – you might even use the word “theology” – kept sneaking in at the edges. The word “god” cropped up just before the end – you can’t get much more “theological” than that! And several things that were said assumed that our friend was still alive in some other dimension; indeed, that she was now “re-united” with a particular loved one. If that isn’t “theology” I don’t know what is.

But, of course, the basis for such a belief is flimsy, to say the least. What evidence is there for it? Is it anything more than a forlorn refusal to admit the terrible finality of death for those who have no red-blooded faith in the living God? A form of wishful thinking, in fact?

It all made me aware of the many times over the years when I have stood at the front of Christian funeral services and read the riveting, spine-tingling, stupendous words of the angels to the women who came to Jesus’ tomb on that first Easter morning: “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!” (Matthew 24:5).

Or the no-holds-barred claim of Paul to his friends in Corinth: “Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Corinthians 15:20).

Make no mistake: if those words are true, then they are utterly life-changing, the most important words we will ever hear; and if they are false, then they are as cruel a hoax as has ever been inflicted on the human race.

Ah, but are they true? That is a fair question to ask; and, of course, no-one can prove it beyond the possibility of doubt.

But the story of the crucified and risen Christ is given to us in all four of the New Testament Gospels, and its significance is explored in depth in the various New Testament letters and other documents. The people who wrote these things down were not naive, gullible simpletons. They were down-to-earth men of the world who knew perfectly well that – well, dead people just don’t rise. Yet their whole world was turned upside down by the events of that day.

And millions since have had the same experience; millions of people like me, and perhaps also like you. The fact is that the resurrection is at the very heart of Christian faith; there simply is no Christianity without it.

What can I say?

First, a word to those who might call themselves honest unbelievers…

Could I encourage you to return to the Bible accounts and to ponder and explore them again with an open mind? Something remarkable happened that Easter morning, that’s for sure!

Second, a word to those of us who call ourselves Christians…

Do we value sufficiently this great jewel of our faith? – not just a tale to buck us up in the hardships of life, but hard truth based on solid evidence. A truth to be revelled in day by day; and a truth to be shared boldly with our friends and neighbours.

Yes, there was much to admire in that secular ceremony as we said good-bye to a much-loved friend. It was good to be there.

But there is so much more too – oh, so much more!

Lord Jesus Christ, thank you for your sacrificial death, your triumphant resurrection and your promised return in glory. Help me to rejoice daily in these truths, and to be ready to pass them on to others who are still without solid hope in the face of death. Amen.

How can I find God's purpose for my life?

He has shown you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you, but to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God? Micah 6:8

Let us keep in step with the Spirit. Galatians 5:25

When I was a teenage Christian one of the things we were taught was that “God has a purpose for your life”. I never had any reason to doubt this, and it was by following this conviction that my life took on the shape it did, and which I have never regretted.

It’s a belief that is supported by various Bible passages. The prophet Jeremiah, for example, was told by God: “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations” (Jeremiah 1:4-5).

Paul likewise believed that God “set me apart from my mother’s womb and called me by his grace… so that I might preach him among the gentiles…” (Galatians 1:15).

You could say of course that people like Jeremiah and Paul were special cases – people destined by God to change the course of history. It just isn’t like that for most of us!

But I don’t think that’s right. Each of us individually is a child of God, and it makes sense to think that our Father who loves us has some role for us to fulfil – call it a “vocation” or a “calling” if you like – even if it’s a lot less significant than for the great figures of the Bible and of church history.

If so, it raises the question: Yes, but how do I find God’s will for me? And then: What happens if I miss it? Suppose I go wrong? Does that mean I make a complete shipwreck of my whole life? (I heard once of a man who became convinced that God had called him to be a missionary when he was young, and he had failed to respond; this gnawed away at him as the years went by.)

These are genuine questions, and they can cause sensitive Christians real anxiety.

In a nutshell, we have to walk a narrow line between believing (a) that, yes, God has a purpose for our lives, but (b) that finding it isn’t something we should allow to weigh us down.

So how can we do this?

My suggestion would be: If you want to find God’s purpose for your life, don’t go searching for it. Certainly, pray from time to time that God will lead you in the way he wants you to go; but don’t get stewed up about it.

In a sense every Christian has the same calling: to walk with God minute by minute and day by day; to get up every morning and say to ourselves, Right, how can I best do God’s will today? What does it mean today to live a Christ-centred, Spirit-filled life?

If we do this, what serious risk can there be that he won’t lead us in things both small and big? Why shouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he? Doesn’t he love us? If you’re walking hand-in-hand with someone, you’re not going to be separated from them. And isn’t the Christian life in essence a matter of walking hand-in-hand with God?

And then – when the day comes for the big decisions that we all have to make from time to time, we can quietly trust that through prayer, reflection and talking to trusted friends, God’s will will become clear.

The fact is that throughout two thousand years of the church, the majority of Christians simply haven’t had the luxury of being able to “find God’s purpose” for their lives. Why? Because they had no say in the matter.

Suppose you were born in New Testament days to a couple of slaves in a Roman household? If you were lucky you might be reasonably well treated; but the fact is that you were in effect a “living tool”, entirely at the disposal of your master.

Or if you were born into the Dalit (“Untouchable”) people today in India. Very likely your life would consist of nothing but menial and even degrading jobs, with little chance of escape.

Or simply in some remote community in an undeveloped country with few educational opportunities and little health-care. (I don’t suppose they talk much about “career opportunities” and “job satisfaction” in places like that, do they?) If you are a Christian there, what more is there to do than aim to live each day to the glory of God? What greater “purpose” or “meaning” or “calling” can you expect?

Summing it up: If we make it our business to focus on the little, everyday things, we can trust our Father in heaven to take care of the big picture.

Oh, and if we do sometimes lose our way – as, of course, we all do – then we can trust that God is well able to weave afresh the damaged fabric of our lives.

He is infinitely adaptable; he is wonderfully versatile.

Father, thank you for your servant Enoch, who “walked with God.” Please help me to do the same, in matters both great and small, and so to find a true meaning for my life. Amen.