A blighted life

And Jephthah made a vow to the Lord: “If you give the Ammonites into my hands, whoever comes out of the door of my house to meet me when I return in triumph from the Ammonites will be the Lord’s, and I will sacrifice him as a burnt offering.” Judges 11:30-31

He was a truly tragic character, was Jephthah. What this usually means in both history and literature is someone who not only experiences terrible misery him or herself, but who also brings it down on the heads of pretty much everyone else whose lives are intertwined with theirs (if you’re into Shakespeare, think Hamlet or Othello).

Jephthah’s tragedy climaxes in a rash vow he made (Judges 11:30-31). But the story of his blighted life in Judges 10-12 is dogged with pain and injustice. We can summarise it fairly quickly…

First, he was born into unhappy circumstances. His father was Gilead, who we might call a princeling in Israel. But he was born not to Gilead’s wife but to a prostitute. When other sons were born they rejected Jephthah because “you are the son of another woman” (verse 2). He was, then, the victim of cruelty, in effect made an outcast by his own family.

What was he to do? What choice did he have? He ran away and joined a lawless gang (verse 3).

This may remind us of young people in our modern world for whom home-life is impossible, or just intolerable, and who end up in gangs and in trouble with the police. While many foster-carers or adoptive parents do a wonderful job (thank God for them - how they need our prayers!) the inner scars and hurts may never fully heal. A poisonous plant of bitterness is hard to root out.

It's sometimes said – and surely rightly - that what matters most in life is not what happens to you, but how you react to what happens to you. But that’s easy to say when you have a stable and loving start in life; and it’s very easy to condemn those who lose their way. Do some of us need to take a look at our hard hearts? Are we guilty of indifference or self-righteousness?

Second, Jephthah probably thought his old life was gone for ever. But it seems he earned a reputation as a fighter and a leader of men, for – ironically – a situation arose where the people who had kicked him out began to realise they needed him after all: “the elders of Gilead (no doubt including some of his own blood brothers) went to get Jephthah… ‘Come’, they said, ‘be our commander, so we can fight the Ammonites’.” The boot, as they say, is on the other foot.

After some negotiation, Jephthah agrees. He then talks with the King of the Ammonites, which suggests he was a man of words as well as a man of deeds. But it’s all to no avail, and battle proves inevitable.

Third, it turns out that though his own family may have rejected him, God hasn’t, for we read in verse 29 the remarkable words that “the Spirit of the Lord came on Jephthah”. With our New Testament perspective we tend to associate the Holy Spirit with spiritual power and the proclamation of God’s word. But the events in Judges took place over  1000 years before Jesus, and the Spirit was simply not understood in the same way. He, or perhaps we should think of the Spirit at this time as “it”, granted all sorts of other skills as well, including military ones.

Fourth (however that may be), before battle is joined, the key moment of Jephthah’s life takes place: he makes a vow to God that if he defeats the Ammonites he will sacrifice by burnt offering “whoever comes out of the door of my house” on his triumphant return (verses 30-31). And that “whoever” turns out to be his unmarried daughter, his only child.

This, especially, is where we need to pause and think. Who hasn’t made a rash promise at some point in their life? Who hasn’t longed to turn the clock back and unspeak foolish words?

For us today it probably isn’t a “vow” in a formal sense – though it wouldn’t do any of us any harm to reflect a little on our baptismal vows (or equivalent) or, of course, on our marriage vows. Have we become careless? Has what was once solemn and deeply serious become a matter for shoulder-shrugging?

On a more day-to-day level, Jephthah’s folly raises issues of reliability. Are we people of our word? Do we throw off promises too casually? I remember someone who used to routinely round off a conversation with “Bye. I’ll give you a tinkle” (that’s a phone call, in case you didn’t know). That expression somehow used to grate on me and make me want to smash his teeth right down his throat (in Christian love, of course). Did he ever “give me a tinkle”? I’ll leave you to guess.

But who am I to speak? How often have I said to somebody in need “You’ll be in my prayers”, but neglected to remember them?

A big question… Should Jephthah have gone back on his vow? Surely yes (in spite of Deuteronomy 23:21-23). Human sacrifice is frequently condemned in the Old Testament, and to go ahead with it would only be to compound evil.

Fifth, as hinted earlier, Jephthah  brought down untold misery on the heads of many people: himself, his loyal and devout daughter (whose name isn’t even recorded!), and the people whose trust he commanded.

The message is clear: Think before you speak. Remember the warning of Proverbs 20:25: “It is a trap to dedicate something rashly and only later to consider one’s vows”. A trap indeed!

Dear Father, I look back with regret to promises I have broken, to pain and suffering I have caused through thoughtlessness, inattention and sheer stupidity. Please forgive me, and help me to absorb the tragic lesson of Jephthah. Amen.

An impossible love?

“But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you.” Luke 6:27-31

“Enemies? But I don’t have enemies! I just have friends who don’t like me...”

“Ha-very-ha” is my response to that witticism. All credit to the speaker (a well-known modern poet, I believe) for his self-deprecating humour. But the fact is that one of the battles of life is working out how to handle, if not actual enemies, certainly relationships in our lives that are not easy.

At a fairly everyday level, the difficult situation may simply be a head-on difference of opinion, or a grating personality clash, or a perceived wrong done. For some, of course, it may be far worse: a serious hurt or injury. For Christians in many parts of the world it is outright persecution or injustice. But the fact is that “enemies”, in whatever form they come, can’t just be shrugged off with a wisecrack. Would that they could!

Well, Jesus has an answer to the question, How should I treat my enemies? Love them. Yes; no ifs, no buts: love them.

My wife and I were mulling over these verses in Luke 6 recently and we discovered – not by any means for the first time – that what seems very simple advice is in fact far from so. Here are some of the things we pondered…

First, loving and liking are very different things. You can love someone even when you don’t like them.

How so? Well, liking is an emotion, a feeling, something that you have no control over, something that comes into you from outside; loving, on the other hand, is an act of will, something you choose to do, something that comes from within you.

It’s hard to imagine Jesus liking the soldiers who nailed him to the cross, yet he chose to pray that God his Father would forgive them (Luke 23:33-34); which means, surely, that he chose to love them. (Have we, by the way, ever pondered whether that wonderful prayer was actually answered? I imagine we just assume it was, for at this point the Father and the Son were still in perfect harmony; and that must be right. Well, what clearer example could we want?)

But second, forgiveness can be tricky.

Jesus’ enemies, when they heard him pronounce forgiveness of sins, condemned him: “Who can forgive sins but God alone?” (for example, Mark 2:6). This, surely, is a fair question: who indeed? If nothing else, Jesus’ words point to the fact that he was God in the flesh.

But in many other places Jesus instructs his followers not only to love their enemies, but to forgive them. Right here in Luke 6 he teaches “Forgive, and you will be forgiven” (verse 37). But we are not God!

Perhaps this is a puzzle we can never fully resolve, beyond saying that while of course the ultimate decision to forgive belongs to God and God alone, the  willingness to forgive must be there on our part. If – or when – we reach the point of saying “I forgive you”, it can only be on the basis of an authority delegated to us by God.

Third, looking at the passage as a whole, we concluded that loving enemies boils down to two basic responses on our part: first, wish them well, and not ill; and second, do them good, and not harm.

Experience suggests that even that can be desperately hard: “But how do you expect me to wish well to that person who has hurt me so badly, never mind do them good!” To which the honest answer may well be, “With great difficulty”.

But this is where the grace of God within us makes the impossible possible. Once we make up our minds to love that person, and pray for the help of the Holy Spirit to do so, a wonderful thing begins to happen: we begin to see them through new eyes. At the deepest level, we begin to see them as God sees them - not just as nasty or spiteful or whatever, but as really rather pathetic and pitiful. We may not have changed our enemy; but we have undergone change ourselves – and that may be far more important.

At this point my wife and I felt that we had come about as far as we could.

But we did then recognise that - well, wonderful though all this is, is there a danger of seeming soft on sin? We reminded ourselves that there are such things as rights and wrongs, and that the wrongs need to be “called out”, to use the modern expression. God isn’t a heavenly grandad who always smiles benignly and says “Oh, don’t worry, I’m happy to turn a blind eye”. That isn’t the kind of God he is. He is perfectly pure and holy. So casual indifference to wrong isn’t an option.

But we came to the conclusion that that is, so to speak, God’s problem, not ours. If our enemy remains hard and antagonistic, well, that’s for God to deal with as he sees fit.

As far as we are concerned, our Christlike duty is plain: Love your enemies. Just that: let’s say it again; no ifs, no buts.

(And remember, by the way, that in difficult relationships, the fault, ahem, is unlikely to be all on one side…!)

Lord Jesus, thank you that even as you hung dying on the cross you chose to demonstrate your love for those who killed you by praying for their forgiveness. When I feel that I have been wronged by someone, please help me to see them with your eyes – and to love them with your love. Amen.

Beware of jealousy...

Whatever mission Saul sent him on, David was so successful that Saul gave him a high rank in the army. This pleased all the troops, and Saul’s officers as well. When the men were returning home after David had killed the Philistine, the women came out from all the towns of Israel to meet King Saul with singing and dancing, with joyful songs and with timbrels and lyres. As they danced, they sang: “Saul has slain his thousands, and David his tens of thousands.”

Saul was very angry; this refrain displeased him greatly. “They have credited David with tens of thousands,” he thought, “but me with only thousands. What more can he get but the kingdom?” 

And from that time on Saul kept a close eye on David. 1 Samuel 18:5-9

Are you prone to jealousy? It’s an ugly sin, isn’t it? Here are a few related words suggested by the dictionary, several of which leave quite an ugly taste in your mouth…

Envy, spite, bitterness, resentment, discontent, insecurity, anxiety…

“Beware of jealousy, my Lord. It is the green-eyed monster…” So says the snake-like Iago to his boss Othello. And it’s hard to imagine a more complete self-destruction of a human being than what happens to Othello.

The word “jealousy” doesn’t appear in 1 Samuel 18:1-9, but if ever a man was jealous, surely it was King Saul.

Chosen by God to rule Israel (1 Samuel 10), he is having a hard time. The prophet Samuel has been what we might call his mentor, but things have started going sour, and King Saul – originally so strong, so Spirit-filled! – is showing signs of timidity and feebleness. God declares, “I have rejected him as king over Israel” (1 Kings 16:1), and the writer tells us, chillingly, that “the Spirit of the Lord had departed from Saul” (1 Samuel 16:14).

Then, to cap it all, David appears.

The shepherd boy is authorised by Saul to go head to head with the giant Philistine, Goliath, whom he overcomes more with the power of faith than the with power of arms. The whole nation breathes a massive sigh of relief. Naturally, they celebrate, with the women singing and dancing: “Saul has slain his thousands, and David his tens of thousands”. It seems as if at that moment a poisonous flame of jealousy flares up in Saul’s heart and “from that time on Saul kept a close eye on David”. A telling phrase! Can you see him?

In a word, Saul’s life, and reign, collapses in ruins, and he becomes a pitiful shadow of the man he once was. That’s what jealousy can do to you.

In the Bible as a whole there is a good type of jealousy as well as a bad. God in fact describes himself as a “a jealous God”, by which he means a God who loves his people so intensely that he cannot stand by just watching while they are enticed away from him. In the same way a loved child will stir up jealousy in their parents’ hearts if they get sucked into destructive and damaging habits. Jealousy can be a sign of deep love.

But in general it has those unsavoury overtones. Paul’s graphic list in Galatians 5 - “the fruit of the Spirit” - includes it.

Jealousy has one characteristic which, when you think about, is really rather stupid as well as very nasty: the only harm it does is to the person who harbours it. It’s not something you talk about – it would be humiliating to admit how jealous you are of someone else (that might even give them extra pleasure!). So you nurse it alone, secretly, and the longer it goes on the more it rots your personality; you steadily become eaten-up and shrivelled. It is in fact a form of steady self-poisoning.

“That’s all very well,” you might say, “but how do you get rid of it? You can’t just shrug it off.” Well, no. But what you can do is to confront it every time it rears its ugly head, to confess it to God, and to ask for the help of the Holy Spirit to banish it. It may take time, but that will ultimately be effective. As I heard it put once: “You can’t stop the birds landing on your head, but you can stop them nesting in your hair.”

It may be helpful too to reflect upon Bible characters who exemplified a refusal to harbour jealousy.

A favourite of mine is Barnabas, whom we meet in Acts and Paul’s letters. It was he who saw the enormous potential in Paul immediately after his dramatic conversion on the road to Damascus. He took him under his wing and nurtured him as a missionary partner. At first the two are introduced as “Barnabas and Saul” where it is clear that Barnabas is the “senior” partner. But that soon gives way to “Paul and Barnabas”, where the renamed Paul has obviously taken over the leadership.

Not that Barnabas was a doormat – on more than one occasion he disagreed with Paul, even to the extent of parting company with him, at least for a time: “Tempers flared, and they ended up going their separate ways” says the Message translation of Acts 16:37-41. Quite simply, he not only knew his limitations, but was humble and realistic enough not to let them eat him up.

Another tactic for getting rid of jealousy is to make a special point of being generous and warm-hearted to the person you feel jealous of, to “poison that person with extra doses of kindness”, as George Porter cleverly put it. You might be amazed what a weight gets lifted from your shoulders. And as a general rule, it can only be good to make a habit of generosity.

The story of King Saul, sadly, doesn’t end well. All right, that may not be entirely to do with jealousy. But it certainly seems as if it overwhelmed his personality and unhinged his mind.

We have been warned!

Lord God, if all I want is to give the glory to you, then how can I ever be jealous of anybody else! Please help me to make this my aim hour by hour and minute by minute. Amen.

The apostle Paul and the friendly Maltesers

Once safely on shore, we found out that the island was called Malta. The islanders showed us unusual kindness. They built a fire and welcomed us all because it was raining and cold. Paul gathered a pile of brushwood and, as he put it on the fire, a viper, driven out by the heat, fastened itself on his hand. When the islanders saw the snake hanging from his hand, they said to each other, “This man must be a murderer; for though he escaped from the sea, the goddess Justice has not allowed him to live.” But Paul shook the snake off into the fire and suffered no ill effects. The people expected him to swell up or suddenly fall dead; but after waiting a long time and seeing nothing unusual happen to him, they changed their minds and said he was a god. Acts 28:1-6

Those who are kind benefit themselves. Proverbs 11:17

Paul is on his way to Rome. He is under guard but, as a Roman citizen, he intends to exercise his right to present his case to Caesar. But things don’t go quite according to plan. In Acts 27 we read the dramatic story of the shipwreck which leaves the whole ship’s company – 276 people – stranded on an island which turns out to be Malta.

Acts 28:1-10 then describes what happened when, exhausted, soaked to the skin, no doubt hungry and thirsty, and totally bedraggled, they  look around them to see what they have come to. What do they find?

First, the natives are friendly!

This must have been their greatest fear – that these pagan islanders would kill them or in some other way take advantage of them.

But no; just the opposite: “they showed us no ordinary kindness”. (That’s how the phrase in verse 2 can be literally translated; they went well beyond any call of duty.) They built a fire and, presumably, fed them. It then gets even better: Publius, the “chief official of the island… welcomed us to his home and gave us generous hospitality for three days” (verse 7).

So? Well, we are reminded that while all human beings are sinful in the sight of God, that doesn’t mean they are totally incapable of good deeds. It’s interesting that back at the beginning of chapter 27 Luke tells us that Julius, the Roman soldier in command of the ill-fated ship, showed “kindness” (same word) to Paul.

It's a challenging thought: How thankful are we for the kindness of people who as yet know nothing of Christ? Even more, how often are we - followers of Jesus! - put to shame by the good behaviour of non-Christian friends and strangers? God save us from arrogance!

But second, the natives are deeply superstitious.

I can’t help smiling at the way they respond to the episode of the snake. Luke tells us that a viper comes slithering out of the bonfire and fastens itself on Paul’s hand. Their immediate reaction is to assume that he “must be a murderer” – oh, he managed to escape death by drowning, but he can’t escape Justice that easily!

I picture them warily watching him (no doubt from a safe distance), expecting him to “swell up or suddenly fall dead”. But no; he casually shakes the snake off into the fire “and suffers no ill effect”, whereupon they “changed their minds and said he was a god”. Real flip-flop religion! Sheer superstition.

Two thoughts occur to me…

First, in a negative mode, it’s disturbing how many people even in our educated, scientific world are prey to superstition: from the footballer who insists on emerging from the dressing room each match in exactly the same order; to the politician who formulates policy after consulting astrologers (quite common, apparently, in some parts of the world); to the ordinary person down the road or at work who religiously reads their horoscope every day.

Where God’s truth is not known, superstitious beliefs will soon come crowding in.

But, second, in a more positive mode, perhaps this can give us hope; for it reminds us that human beings have a yen, an instinct, to believe in something above and beyond us, something unseen but real that we all feel after; that there is more to this mysterious world in which we live than what is known to our five senses. Most people, apparently, pray (according to surveys). Most people, one suspects, are “religious” in some form or other.

Let this encourage us then not to be afraid to make known the God we have come to love and follow through the crucified and risen Jesus! All around us there are people more open to our gospel than we realise.

Not, of course, that we should start quoting Bible texts at them, but in the faith that, imperfect though we are, our lives might do the talking (see 1 Peter 3:15).

So… the people of Malta were kind and generous-hearted, but dominated by ignorance and superstition in matters of religion. Is our modern world really so very different? May God open our eyes and help us to see!

A final thought…

Imagine a news headline: Archaeologists unearth an unknown writing by the apostle Paul! We know that most of the letters of Paul were written to Christian congregations scattered around the Mediterranean world. But nobody had any expectation that a new one would come to light! Yet it has! “The Letter of Paul the Apostle to the Church in Malta”…

It’s not going to happen, of course. But it’s one of history’s might-have-beens. In Acts 28:11 we learn that Paul and his companions spent three months on Malta, and it’s hard to imagine that they never took hold of opportunities to speak about Jesus. We know that they were used by God in an extensive healing ministry (Acts 28:8-9) - but there is no mention of a preaching and teaching ministry, or of the founding of a church.

Why, we have no way of knowing. Language problems, perhaps? Or was the grip of superstition just too strong to be loosened in a mere three months? Could it be that the people of Malta were happy to accept real benefits from their Christian visitors, but unwilling to make the radical life-changes that come with true conversion? Whatever, in terms of “success” Paul’s ministry on Malta might be deemed a “failure”.

God only knows. But that shouldn’t stop us from doing all we can to make Jesus known in our little corner of the world, even if our efforts seem doomed to failure. To this day Paul’s visit to Malta is still remembered – there is a popular tourist venue called “St Paul’s Bay”.

There was a reason for that storm, that shipwreck, that brush with death. And so with us; in all the ups and downs of life and witness, God knows what he is doing. Trust him…!

Father, all sorts of puzzling and painful things happen to us throughout our lives. Please give us the faith to believe that, though unseen, you are in control, and that one day we will see your pattern and purpose. Amen.

From despair to hope

Darkness is my closest friend. Psalm 88:18

I can’t remember when I first read – really read – Psalm 88. Oh, I am sure I had read it before, because I became a Christian in my teenage years and had early on got into the discipline of daily Bible reading. But there can often be a big difference between reading and really reading – the difference between skimming and digesting.

I became aware that it is pretty much alone in the psalms, because it is devoid of hope. Putting it in a single word, it is a psalm of despair, which by definition means the total absence of hope. The last line, “darkness is my closest friend”, struck me as unutterably bleak.

This is a place I have never been, I’m thankful to say. Down, yes; low and quite depressed, yes; just plain miserable, that too. But in the depths of hopelessness, no, thank God.

Let’s skim through all eighteen verses to get some kind of feel of this awful mood…

In verses 1-2 he pleads with God to listen to him: “day and night I cry out to you”. He is desperate.

In verses 3-9 he says, in effect, that he might as well be dead. And we need to remember that the Old Testament has little to say about life beyond the grave – no clear teaching about heaven and hell such as we find in the New Testament. Death is “the grave” or “the pit” (“sheol”) where, according to his understanding, people are no longer remembered by God and are “cut off from his care”.

He feels (rightly or wrongly) that God is angry with him, and also that his friends have turned away from him (“you have made me repulsive to them” suggests that perhaps he has some horrible disease). Bleak indeed.

In verses 10-12 he asks a series of questions, each of which clearly expects the answer No: “Do you show your wonders to the dead?... Do their spirits rise up and praise you?... Is your love declared in the grave?..  Are your wonders known in the place of darkness?...”

In verses13-18 he reflects that this has been the story of his whole life: “from my youth I have suffered and been close to death; I have borne your terrors and am in despair”. And then that terrible final line: “darkness is my closest friend”.

We are reminded very much of Job, not to mention Psalm 22, which Jesus echoed on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” But at least those have happy endings. No happy ending for the writer of Psalm 88!

What can we take from this psalm?

First, the sheer honesty of scripture.

There are parts of the Bible which, if am to be honest, I rather wish weren’t there at all (the book of Judges is one!). But God doesn’t spare us the hard things; he expects us to face them with honest, open eyes.

Second, the realism of being a child of God.

From what we can glean about his insistence on prayer, this man was a true believer and had lived a faithful life. And yet he had suffered – and was still suffering – so much! In the same way, the Christian life brings true joy and satisfaction, yet it is anything but “now I am happy all the day”. If the gospel were a guarantee of an easy life, it would be nothing better than those stupid, shallow adverts that try to suck us in with easy promises. The blessings of glory will be ours – but we may have to wait, and quite possibly to wait a long time.

Third, the need to dwell on some of the things we know but the psalmist didn’t.

It’s a standard principle of Bible study to “compare scripture with scripture”, because no single passage or book tells us everything we need to know. We live with the New Testament in our hands as well as the Old – but the psalmist had to live with only a limited idea of what lay beyond death.

As I pondered Psalm 88 and the experience of despair I found my mind turning to the first Easter – the scene at Calvary first and foremost, of course. But then I thought of the next day, that dreadful Saturday. What did the disciples do that day? How did they pass those long, dreary hours? We can only imagine.

But then came Sunday. A picture that especially grips my mind is that of Mary Magdalene, running like the wind to burst into the room where the disciples were. I imagine her standing stock-still in the doorway, utterly breathless, uncontrollably weeping, hair everywhere, while every face was turned towards her, transfixed.

And then those spell-binding words: “I have seen the Lord!” Can you imagine the silence? – and then the sheer unspeakable joy welling up in every heart?

Surely we need some such scene – imagine it how we will - to accompany our reading of Psalm 88. Such a scene will one day be the experience of each of us who has simple faith in Christ crucified and risen. We too will “see the Lord”.

But let’s not leave it there, for there is also a fourth truth to take from this psalm: the need to develop a compassionate heart.

Untold millions today are living in the misery of Psalm 88, both Christians and others. War, famine, persecution, disease, poverty, not to mention floods and wild fires … Should we not therefore pray, and work, to bring such people comfort and hope in any way we can?

Soften my heart, Lord, soften my heart,/ From all indifference, set me apart./ To feel your compassion, to weep with your tears,/ Come, soften my heart, O Lord, soften my heart. Amen. Graham Kendrick

An act of kindness

The fruit of the Spirit is… kindness. Galatians 5:22

I’ve been having a bit of trouble recently with my back (aagh!) and legs (oops!). Nothing too serious (I hope) – my GP has tapped my knees with his little hammer, so it must be all right, mustn’t it? But I’ve joked once or twice that I sometimes feel I’m “a tumble waiting to happen”.

I don’t tell you this as fishing for sympathy – not at all. Indeed, my somewhat creaky body has served me pretty well now for over 70 years, so I’ve plenty to be grateful for. But on holiday a week or so ago there were a few moments when my joke threatened to be not quite so funny.

My wife and I were on an excursion with quite a large group to a beauty spot which involved some not-so-easy walking. There were no handrails for a stretch (that would have made all the difference) and I came close to losing my footing, but fortunately I made it to a place where I could sit and collect myself, attended by a rather anxious wife.

As we were sitting there a woman came up and said “Can I be of any help?” I was at first a little taken aback; no doubt my pride was dented -  indeed (Lord, forgive me!) my initial thought was “Who’s this interfering busybody?” But it seems she had simply noticed me struggling and was concerned for me; she was just being kind. We went our separate ways and all was well.

She was being kind. That word fixed itself in my mind and wouldn’t go away. I was reminded that it doesn’t take a lot to be kind, and it can mean a lot to the person on the receiving end. It’s a good Bible word; it’s there in Paul’s beautiful list of the “fruit of the Spirit” (Galatians 5:22): “… love, joy, peace, patience, kindness…” Paul also uses it to describe the loving generosity of God himself; he speaks of “the riches of his kindness, forbearance and patience” (Romans 2:4, not just once but twice).

When I asked the woman who came to our aid who she was – wondering if perhaps she was part of the tour staff – she said “No, just somebody who keeps their eyes open”. I thought that was quite revealing, for is it not a fact that often we fail to be kind not because we are uncaring, but because we are so wrapped up in our own affairs that we just don’t see the needs of others around us. After all, if some difficulty arises right in front of our noses – a child running off into the road perhaps, or a neighbour falling ill – most of us instinctively respond immediately. But unless a situation is actually thrust upon us in that way, don’t we tend to keep ourselves in the bubble of our own little lives?

It might not be a bad idea, when we get to the end of each day, to ask ourselves “How many opportunities have I missed today to show kindness?” No, we don’t want to be busybodies, and we certainly don’t ask for praise, but a greater sensitivity and awareness of what is going on around us, surely, can only be a good thing. Remember the Good Samaritan.

Here are a few sayings about kindness. Of course, they don’t say the last word on the subject, and taken alone may even be slightly misleading. But there are real truths in each one…

First, a dictionary definition…

Kindness is a type of behaviour marked by acts of generosity and consideration, rendering assistance or concern for others, without expecting praise or reward in return. I reckon that sums it up pretty well.

Kindness has converted more sinners than zeal, eloquence and learning.

Kindness is the golden chain by which society is bound together.

Kindness spoken here. (Sign in a shop.)

Be kind: everyone you meet is fighting a battle. Yes, I like that!

And perhaps my favourite, from the poet William Wordsworth:

That best portion of a good man’s life - his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.

A footnote… I was reminded of another vital lesson through our little incident: that natural human tendency to think the worst of other people rather than the best.

Was that woman a busybody? Why did I even think that ugly thought? I dismissed it as unworthy the moment it came into in my mind; but I can’t dismiss as readily the sense of shame that I ever thought it at all. I suspect that I’m not alone in this?

Thank you, Father, for your great kindness shown to us sinners in Jesus. Give me, please, eyes to see the struggles of others and the compassion and the will to respond with kindness. Amen. 

The mysterious men of Nineveh

The men of Nineveh will stand up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it, for they repented at the preaching of Jonah; and now something greater than Jonah is here. Luke 11:32

Interesting people, the “men of Nineveh”…

They figure in the Old Testament as enemies of God’s people, Israel. Their famous city was the capital of Assyria which, like the other Old Testament super-powers – Philistia, Babylon, Persia and the rest – eventually became just another empire that has risen and fallen.

So it’s fascinating - even slightly startling - to find them right here in the Gospels (Luke 11:29-32 and Matthew 12:39-42). And even more fascinating to find them mentioned by Jesus in a favourable light. He portrays them as playing a part at the final judgment (how surprising is that!) when they will, he says, stand up to condemn his own contemporaries (and how surprising is that!).

The key, of course, is the strange story of Jonah, God’s runaway prophet. When Jonah eventually decided to fall in with God’s plan (albeit very grumpily) it seems his preaching sparked a revival throughout Nineveh: “When God saw what they did and how they turned from their evil ways, he relented and did not bring on them the destruction he had threatened” (Jonah 3:10). And so, says Jesus, at the judgment day they will be better placed than many members of God’s own people.

Where is this little-known saying of Jesus taking us?

Well, we are used to thinking – and rightly, of course – that it is only through the work of Jesus that anyone can have any hope of being saved at the final judgment. He explicitly stated, “I am the way, the truth and the life. No-one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). Simon Peter echoes this in the immediate aftermath of Pentecost, proclaiming “Salvation is found in no-one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12).

For obvious reasons, the Ninevites never heard the name of Jesus: indeed, the message they did hear was purely a warning about destruction to come (Jonah 1:2 and 3:4); certainly no “gospel”! So it seems that their standing before God is doubtful, to say the least. And yet Jesus spoke in this very positive way… What’s going on?

We may say, of course (and I personally would say), that Jesus’ words are not to be taken literally: they are his dramatic way of pointing out to the people of his own time that pagan people who know nothing of God’s word put them to shame. But even if that is right, the fact remains that Jesus himself puts such people in a better light than those who have received the word of God over many centuries.

This raises an intriguing question: Is it possible for someone to be saved through Christ even though they have never heard his name?

Could it be that God, in his grace, applies the benefits of Christ’s atoning death and resurrection to people who, through no fault of their own, have never had the opportunity to hear the gospel message? Not that they are saved by their own works; but that the blood of Jesus is accepted for them?

Different Christians will take differing views on that. But as far as I am aware, even the most literally-minded Bible-readers accept that the Old Testament “saints” are saved, even though they never heard the name of Jesus. Elijah and Moses, for example, appeared “talking with Jesus” on the mount of transfiguration, which would seem very strange if they are in fact eternally lost (Mark 9:2-13). Not to mention Hannah and David and Isaiah and Jeremiah and Hezekiah… plus untold numbers of faithful Israelites whose names are not known to us.

Somebody might say, “But hang on a minute! What about faith? Doesn’t the New Testament tell us that ‘it is by grace we have been saved, through faith’ (Ephesians 2:8), and how can anybody have faith in Jesus if they have never heard of him?”

But that makes faith sound more like a threatening condition we must fulfil – “You’d better have faith or you will be eternally condemned!” - rather than a loving invitation offered – “If you are fearful of being eternally condemned, simply put your faith in what Jesus did on the cross”.

In other words, the call to trust in Jesus is an invitation for those who know their need of forgiveness and who have been told about him; it isn’t a threat for those who have never heard of him.

Of course, we have no way of knowing about the eternal destiny of those Ninevites Jonah preached to. (As a matter of fact, the Old Testament as a whole doesn’t show very much interest at all in matters of life beyond death.)

But what we do know is that God loves all whom he has made, and “does not want anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). And everyone means everyone – those who lived before Christ, and those of us who have come after; those of us who have had the privilege of hearing the good news of Jesus, and those who for whatever reason haven’t.

I can’t say for sure, of course, but I can’t help wondering: Will there be people who wake up on judgment day, open their eyes blinking in wonderment, and ask “How did I come to be in this glorious place?” And perhaps a nearby angel will point them to a man with wound marks in his hands and feet and side, and will say “How? That’s how…”

If we get chatting with them (assuming that chatting with people will be part of the life of heaven) and ask them where they came from, they might reply, “From a big city called Nineveh. In its time it was the greatest city in the world. But it was, oh! nothing like this…”

Father, thank you for Jesus’ intriguing word about the men of Nineveh, and for the hope it gives us even for those who have never heard the name of Jesus. May this prospect make us more eager, not less, to make that name known wherever and whenever we can. Amen.