What's the use of faith? (3)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes?

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

What's the use of faith? (2)

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

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

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

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

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

Two reasons for this are worth highlighting…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What's the use of faith?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s truly packed with substance!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is it ever right to lie?

The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, whose names were Shiphrah and Puah, “When you are helping the Hebrew women during childbirth on the delivery stool, if you see that the baby is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, let her live.” The midwives, however, feared God and did not do what the king of Egypt had told them to do; they let the boys live. 

Then the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and asked them, “Why have you done this? Why have you let the boys live?” The midwives answered Pharaoh, “Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive.” So God was kind to the midwives and the people increased and became even more numerous. And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families of their own. Exodus 1:15-21

Is it ever right for a child of God to lie?

In the Bible the “snake” (Satan) is depicted as telling the first lie (Genesis 3:1-5), and Jesus describes “the devil” as “a liar and the father of lies” (John 8:44). You would think that’s pretty decisive, wouldn’t you? – God hates lies, end of.

Yet here in Exodus 1 we find a story which puts a rather different slant on things…

The people of Israel are in slavery in Egypt, but they have grown greatly in numbers, to the point where the Egyptian king, the Pharaoh, is worried and decides something must be done. Putting it simply, all the Hebrew baby boys are to be killed at birth. But to achieve this, he needs to recruit the help of two midwives, Shiphrah and Puah.

Unknown to him, the midwives refuse to do as they are told - an act of rebellion against the most powerful man in the land which is surely very impressive.

But what about the next act in the drama? When the Pharaoh takes them to task for disobeying him they seem, on the face of it, to tell an out-and-out lie: “’Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive’” (verse 19). Whereupon, we read, “God was kind to the midwives…”

You can’t help wondering: God’s hatred of lies seems to be not quite absolute!

There are other occasional Bible examples of people lying in the service of God. A clear one is Rahab the harlot (Joshua 2), who hid two Israelite spies from the pagan King of Jericho, lied about what she had done – and was honoured for doing so (Joshua 6:22-25).

What should we make of examples like this?

There is, of course, a difference between a lie told by a basically good and honest person in order to achieve a good end - and when there really doesn’t seem to be any alternative -  and a deliberate attempt to deceive in order to do something malicious and harmful. And there are what used to be called “white lies” – harmless untruths told as a joke or even out of genuine affection.

But, well, a lie is a lie, and God is the God of truth.

Probably most Christians would agree that under some circumstances a lie may be justified. An extreme scenario… You’re strolling through a wood one day and a child comes down the path followed a couple of minutes later by a man with a blood-stained knife, asking “Which way did that child go?” Would it be wrong to point in the opposite direction?

But even that is strictly a lie, and there are Christians who would refuse to tell it. The story is well known of the Dutch ten Boom family who ran a jewellers shop in Amsterdam during the second world war. They used their shop to shelter Jewish people who were being hunted by Nazi soldiers.

One of the daughters, Betsy, was a very committed Christian. One day when the soldiers came unexpectedly, and several Jewish refugees had been hurriedly ushered under a table with a cloth that reached down to the floor, she replied to a soldier’s demand “Where are the Jews?” with complete honesty: “Under the table”. Whereupon the soldiers failed to look, thinking Betsy might be trying to make fools of them.

Well, I suppose you can only admire such breath-taking faith. But I think many Christians would have been tempted to go down the same road as Shiphrah and Puah! And would anybody be entitled to condemn them? (Quite apart from anything else, taking such a massive risk of faith presumably isn’t quite so hard when it’s not your own life that is at stake...)

We live in a world which is awash with lies – or with “fake truth” as it’s called. For many people lying is completely routine, and they feel not the slightest pang of conscience. But, setting aside the morality of it, once you’ve been detected in a lie, why should anybody ever believe you again? You gain a reputation, and so it becomes a self-defeating tactic.

The reputation of the Christian should be one of spotless truthfulness, and that means not only “speaking the truth” in the most basic and obvious sense, but being an utterly reliable, solid and faithful person. Such a reputation is precious beyond words.

As for those really tricky situations, well, surely we can entrust them humbly to the tender mercy of God, do what we feel we must, and let him do the judging?

Father, you tell us that you love “the one whose way is blameless, who does what is righteous, who speaks the truth from their heart” (Psalm 15). Please help me to never be content with anything less than that. Amen.

A substitute religion?

I urge, then, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people – for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. 1 Timothy 2:1-2

Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except what God has established. Romans 13:2

We had a phone call the other day from somebody wondering if we shared his distaste at the torrent of gushy sentimentality (as he saw it) following the death of the Queen. We were glad to assure him that yes, we did share it - that, indeed, there were moments we found ourselves wondering “Is there something wrong with me that this national outpouring of grief leaves me, to be honest, rather cold?”

Sadness, yes of course. A real sense of shock, by all means. A focus on the universally recognised qualities of the Queen, who was clearly a wonderful person – her devotion to duty, her dignity, her integrity, her faith, her humour - absolutely yes. But surely a lot of what we have seen is, to borrow the cliche, rather “over the top”? One tries not to slip into cynicism, but it’s hard not to wonder if much of this is really slightly unhealthy. Is it in fact a symptom of a substitute religion?

Well, we will all have our own opinions. But these dramatic, historic events prompt a down-to-earth question: How should we as Christians respond to those who govern us and “rule over us”? Does the Bible offer any guidelines?

The answer is a big Yes. Boiling it down, I would suggest that we have two basic obligations laid upon us by our Christian discipleship.

First: to pray for those in authority.

This is spelt out clearly in the two verses from 1Timothy I have quoted above. Paul urges us to pray “for all people”, but he then goes on to make special mention of “kings and all those in authority”.

That surely covers an enormous swathe of people – any who through their decision-making have a significant impact on our lives: politicians, of course, but also “captains of industry”, “influencers” (whatever they may be!), educators, writers, even television and sporting personalities.

We may not realise it, but our attitudes and life-styles are shaped by people whose influence may or may not be good. So they need our prayers, as much for our own sakes as for theirs.

Perhaps the Queen’s death will prompt us to pray in a more focussed way for all the members of the royal family, for the glare of publicity makes us aware that at heart they are just people like the rest of us, with the same feelings, strengths, weaknesses and peculiarities as we all have. We may be tempted to envy their wealth and splendour; but on reflection, would we really want to be born with such an enormous burden on our shoulders? Not me, thanks very much!

Second: to be good citizens.

This is a brief summary of Romans 13, especially verse 1: “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except what God has established”.

When we read those words we need to remember that the “governing authorities” in Paul’s world were anything but Jewish or Christian: no, they were pagans who operated by means of a cruel military machine and whose empire, the Roman empire, depended to a large extent on slavery.

Other Bible passages make clear that there are times when people of Christian faith must in fact stand out against the governing authorities. If it comes down to obeying God versus obeying human governments, there can be no question: loyalty to God takes priority.

But Paul here is recognising that human societies need law; otherwise they descend into chaos and anarchy – exactly as we see in many parts of the world today. And so, unless there is some very compelling reason, loyal citizenship is incumbent upon Christian people.

This, again, covers an enormous swathe of things: from obeying the law and paying our taxes to being good neighbours and observing speed limits… we can all add to that list!

Being a Christian, then, lays these two obligations upon us. But going back to our present situation, it’s worth mentioning that there are different areas too where we are not under obligation. No, there is nothing necessarily wrong with us if we find ourselves repelled by excessive displays of emotion (is that something the Queen would have wanted?)! And, of course, there’s no obligation to actually like some of the people we pray for!

We should not allow our faith in God to become corrupted by excessive loyalty to our nation. It’s well known that the Russian Orthodox church is currently in full support of President Putin and his war in Ukraine: it is, apparently, a Christian duty to stand up for “Mother Russia”. And in America, I read that some churches tell their members which candidates to vote for at elections. This cannot be right.

A footnote… At another level, there’s a danger of allowing our doctrine to be coloured by sub-Christian or downright non-Christian influences.

There’s a poem doing the rounds at the moment on social media which depicts the Queen’s death as resulting from Prince Philip beckoning her to join him, and is accompanied by a cute little cartoon of the two them sitting together, presumably in some kind of heaven.

One hesitates to trample too hard on something which apparently brings comfort to many. But let’s call it what is: sheer sentimental tosh.

Let scripture be our guide, not this kind of folksy, gushy nonsense!

Father, you have blessed us in Britain with the gift of a truly admirable Queen over the last seventy years. Thank you. But help us to remember that in Jesus you have given us the King of kings and Lord of lords, and that it is he who commands our ultimate allegiance. Amen.

A wasted life?

Now Stephen, a man full of God’s grace and power, performed great wonders and signs among the people… All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel. Acts 6:8-15

If I had to choose one New Testament person that I would like to know more about, I think it would be Stephen. The verses I have quoted above make it clear that he was an exceptional man, yet he is here and gone in the blink of an eye, right at the very birth of the church.

He appears first in Acts 6, and is described as “full of faith and of the Holy Spirit” (verse 5), as “full of God’s grace and power”, and as “performing great wonders and signs among the people” (verse 8). That’s recorded in a low-key, matter-of-fact way, as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world, but if we let our minds dwell on it for a few moments we realise how very special he must have been. (Quite like Jesus, in fact.)

And then, in verse 15, we learn that when under severe duress – even the threat of a violent death - “his face was like the face of an angel”. Can you imagine that?

In the next chapter we read a long speech he made to “the Sanhedrin” (the Jewish ruling council), which, to be honest, we might find a bit boring at first. And that is the last we hear of him. He is stoned to death, praying two wonderful prayers: “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit”, and “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (Acts 7:59-60). (Both prayers remind us, of course, of the dying Jesus.)

I can’t help wondering what his “back-story” was. What sort of age was he? Was he married? Did he have children? What was his daily work? Where did he come from? How did he become a follower of Jesus?

Well, God hasn’t chosen to satisfy our curiosity, so it’s no business of ours to probe. But Stephen’s brief appearance on the stage of history prompts another question in our minds: Was his life a wasted life? Putting it another way, it prompts those two tantalising words: What if…? Suppose he had had, say, another ten years on this earth, what might he have achieved in the service of Christ?

The sermons he might have preached… the miracles he might have worked… the lives he might have changed. He might well have been remembered as up there with Peter, James, John and Paul, the “stars” of the infant church.

But no. No sooner does he come to newness of life in Christ than his earthly life is cruelly snuffed out. Why does God allow that? What is he up to?

Well, there is a limit to how far we should question. But various important truths stand out from this story…

First, always be prepared for death.

When Stephen got out of bed that morning, very likely he was expecting a perfectly normal day. But it wasn’t to be. And quite possibly that’s how our final day will be too. So the wise course is to look death fairly and squarely in the face; not, of course, to be over-preoccupied with it, but to talk about it and to prepare for it.

Second, accept that this is one of those areas where God’s ways are not our ways, his thoughts not our thoughts.

However strong our belief in eternal life and its glory, the fact is that simply being human means we are hard-wired to cling to earthly life; that’s the way we are made. God, in comparison, seems quite casual; and so when somebody is “cut off in their prime” or in particularly tragic circumstances, or, of course, when a child dies, we are likely to feel confused and possibly angry.

Perhaps this is the ultimate test of faith. It’s easy enough to say “I believe” in many of the teachings of the Christian faith, but to solidly believe that Jesus died and rose again and that we will do the same may be another matter. If – when – that faith wobbles, let’s not feel guilty or depressed but share it with friends in Christ; and, of course, lay it before God. He understands, and he will bring comfort and hope.

Third, let God alone be the judge of any life’s usefulness.

Yes, Stephen might have accomplished great things. But who are we to say? The sheer impact of his Christlike character, the effect of those miraculous deeds, the sight of his angelic face, above all the manner in which he embraced his death – all that, and more, may have brought more people to faith in Jesus than the full life-span of many others. (And we can never calculate to what extent his death contributed to the conversion of that young man at whose feet those who carried out the stoning “laid their coats”… (Acts 7:58).)

Fourth, be realistic about dying.

Francis of Assisi addressed “thou, most kind and gentle death, waiting to hush our latest breath”, which seems very admirable. But is it really biblical? For the vast majority of even strong Christians, death is anything but “kind and gentle”.

I always take comfort from what we read in Acts 8:2: “Godly men buried Stephen and mourned deeply for him”. There was, it seems, no forced rejoicing, no put-on celebration. Yes, they knew that death is a defeated enemy – as Paul puts it, the last enemy (1 Corinthians 15:26).

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t still an enemy!

Lord Jesus, please help me to shine for you every day of my living – and also on the day of my dying. Amen.

A cry from the heart

Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone. Psalm 71:9

We live in a culture where it is quite normal to mock the elderly; they are “past their use by date”, perhaps referred to as “wrinklies” or something equally disrespectful. Some of this mockery may be light-hearted and even affectionate, but the implied comment is clear - once you reach a certain point in your life, you have little either to contribute or to look forward to. The implication, taken to its logical conclusion, is that you’re just waiting for death.

Other cultures see things very differently: the old are honoured and even venerated. This certainly applied in ancient Israel: for example, God commands his people to “stand up in the presence of the aged, show respect for the elderly and revere your God” (Leviticus 19:32). Proverbs 16:31 tells us that “grey hair is a crown of splendour; it is attained in the way of righteousness” (though that second part is hardly a universal rule, is it? -  there are plenty of stupid and even bad grey-haired people about!).

Given that this respectful attitude is commanded, Psalm 71 may come to us as something of a surprise. The writer is clearly either already old or on the brink of it, and he is fearful of being thought of as on the scrap-heap. And it has affected his thinking even about God, for he prays “Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone”.

We instinctively want to reply “Of course not! Why would your loving God even dream of doing such a thing!” But, of course, not all our worries and fears are logical, and just that one verse is a clear insight into the way even the most godly man or woman may sometimes feel.

However old or young we might be, there are clear messages in this powerful psalm.

First, for those who are already old…

(1) Never doubt the faithfulness of God.

The writer’s faith, built up over a long life, is solid. He describes God as “my rock and my fortress” (verse 3) and as “my strong refuge” (verse 7). He declares that “as for me, I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more” (verse 14). He recognises that life hasn’t always been easy: he has seen “troubles, many and bitter” (verse 20), but that doesn’t leave him hopeless.

Yet still he feels the need to cry out to God for reassurance.

This reminds us that our feelings are more changeable than the weather, and are not an accurate reflection of the way things actually are. There are times we need to summon up our faith and ask for grace simply to defy them; indeed, to tell them that they are liars.

(2)  Never doubt your usefulness to God.

This basic lesson is simple: as long as God gives you another day on earth, you have a contribution to make.

The psalmist may be feeling some very understandable qualms, yet a positive strand runs through his prayer. “I will ever praise you” he declares (verse 6); “My mouth is filled with your praise, declaring your splendour all day long” (verse 8). He hasn’t given up on worship! No, even if, in old age, his voice has become a bit thin and reedy, that’s not going to stop him plucking his harp and shouting God’s praise (verse 22-23). (And if the people standing next to him are tempted to put their fingers in their ears, well, so be it!)

Nor has he given up on what we might think of as evangelism: “My mouth will tell of your righteous deeds…” (verses 15-16). He is aware of his responsibility to pass on the good news of God’s love to “the next generation… to all who are to come” (verse 18). I suspect that many of us who were converted young owe a lot to the words and witness of old people who, in our hearts, we were tempted to despise: that’s certainly true for me.

So this psalm has much encouragement for those who are already old.

But, second, it can also speak to those still young…

All right, I don’t think anybody is going to insist that you literally “stand up in the presence of the aged”. But – well, how about simply noticing them? listening to what they have to say? finding small ways to be of practical help?

The recent pandemic offers a good example. Many churches report how people went missing from worship and fellowship while meeting physically was not possible. Perhaps most have since returned; but there are those who haven’t, and, as we might expect, many of those are among the elderly. How about following one or two up? Perhaps their health has deteriorated, or their faith has faltered. Perhaps they feel “cast away”, by the church, if not by God.

In my pastoral experience there are few sadder experiences than meeting an old Christian who, for whatever reason, is no longer able to attend church and now feels cut adrift. There was a time when thy never missed a service, they taught children or led a mid-week meeting, they worked tirelessly on practical tasks, they served energetically at the heart of the church’s life. After they stopped physically attending, various people did their best to keep in touch and the pastor aimed to call frequently.

But time has gone on, and gradually these contacts have fizzled out. Oh, they still have faith in God. But even the truest of Christians can experience sheer spiritual loneliness.

Is there a ministry there waiting to be exercised?

Father, thank you that you love and value every one of your people, from the youngest child to the oldest adult. Teach me to do the same, and if I am still in the prime of life, help me to find the joy of being a blessing to those who are nearer the end. Amen.