Next to Godliness

Confession time. I am a bit of a slob. I think it shows. Those who have never met me will have to take my word for it, but why would a man claim to be that, when he is not?

 I am.

I think my slobiness shows in a number of areas. It shows in my comatose attitude to order, organisation and tidiness. It shows in my relaxed response to domestic hygiene. It also shows in my largely indifferent approach to personal appearance.

This is not the first time I have come to this conclusion, nor will it be the last. I seem destined to retread this ground a little (hopefully in ever decreasing circles), as these things will possibly never become completely like a second nature to me.
My housemate asked me to do some long overdue cleaning this week, in preparation for her friends immanent arrival at the weekend. I was a little stubborn and, I daresay, reluctant to perform such a task (partly because I wrongly felt that it was mainly about creating a good impression). But as I performed this task I started to reflect again on the old adage 'Cleanliness is next to Godliness'.

I don't want to overstate the case but, in the past, I have viewed all of those things as largely superficial. I have had disdain for them and, to an extent, those who I felt prioritised those things above the more important aspects of our life on earth. Relationships, spirituality, hospitality, charity, love.

I like the parable of the upwardly mobile farmer who builds the bigger barn  but dies before he can fill it. The premise Jesus is illustrating is that it is infinitely better to concentrate on storing your treasure in heaven, where moth and rust cannot steal it away. I feel this is, in part a rebuke to the materialist who seeks only to improve their standing in this life but ignores the one to come.

And so for the longest time, I have deemed these outward appearances to be of little, and certainly temporal, consequence.

'Man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart'

 

I would take this verse to lend support to my view. A view that still has some merit, in my opinion.

'Cleanliness is next to Godliness' is something I heard a lot in my childhood. To the extent that I think, at one point, I believed it came from the bible. I think I came to regard this saying, later, as hokum. What had a clean face to do with the state of your heart before God? True cleanliness is a spiritual issue, surely?

What I neglected to understand, however, is that these two sayings contain something deeper, something which is not so comforting as my slovenly heart would have cared to believe.

Firstly 'Man' does look to the outward appearance, but it is not, necessarily a comfort that he (God)looks on the heart instead. What is the state of the heart that takes no heed to its appearance?

I understand that the verse is primarily talking about stature, under substance|(and how God does not chose according to our criteria) but the inverse is true also.

You see the heart determines our actions (Out of the overflow of the heart, so speaks the mouth). So to be neglectful of what God has given you must show the state of a heart in disrepair or wilful rebellion. The problem is that I do not expect rebellion to look so, well, passive. But a stubbornness to be active is as good as a two fingered salute to God.

I think we need to reflect on Jesus most excellent condensation of the commandments to get a better idea of why these things are so important. He told us to love God with all our hearts and our neighbour as ourselves. Within this commandment is a third, well acknowledged aspect which seems to have been historically neglected; the command to love ourselves. But this trinitarian approach to the outworking of love shows Gods holistic nature. He wants love and respect to run through it all, like a stick of rock. If I care about my spirit/soul then I care about my body, I care about my possessions. They are not to own me but I am to own them, all be it lightly.

So to take an attitude of not caring about my affairs or appearance is to primarily reject Gods love. It is to devalue the worth that he has bestowed on humanity, when he came to restore his marred image in the hearts and lives of his children.

He wants us to take responsibility, He wants ME to take responsibility. Why else would confession and repentance be such a necessary part of the process of salvation. He wants us to own it. Cleanliness IS next to Godliness, in as much as it is part of a nurturing, stewarding and fostering of what he has given us.

That is not to say that we cannot still rail against the type of image crafting through posturing and preening and bragging in our appearance and possessions and the cleanliness of our houses. Those who seek those things have had their reward. People pleasing for the sake of our vanity is still as sinful as it ever was but I have come to see that there is more to this issue than my ironically shallow views had held. I even Judged people for their appearance of judging people (on their appearance) and thought THEM shallow??

This is not to say that you have to look conventional, or that our homes need to resemble some kind of showroom standard. There can still be such a thing as holy chaos (and grace is still the messiest factor in our salvation). It is simply that to excuse yourself from the responsibility of it, because it is unimportant, probably means that you have missed the point. It is nether all important nor unimportant. There is no unimportant aspect to the life of a child of God. His counting of sparrows and hairs should have at least taught us this.

Doing good does us good

I wanted to get something down before the moment fades. I have found a certain phenomena in the practice of doing little acts of kindness. That there is nothing quite like breaking out of my bubble of self interest, to raise my spirits and connect me with my sense of humanity. There's no tonic like it.

So today in the car park (parking lot) I was in a little bit of a hurry. There was no need for me to be in a hurry but sometimes (always) this is just my default setting. I have often found myself, after getting home from a hectic journey, where I have overtaken slower drivers, after near tailgating them for miles, cutting in front of people, passing traffic lights on a very late amber, to be sitting at home, staring at the wall, for all of the ten minutes I have saved (if that), just unwinding from the stress of being so impatient. What I am trying to convey is that I often rush for no real reason, and that it what was happening in this car park.

 There is a system in our town whereby you get 2 hours free parking but you must get a ticket to display, so they can monitor how long you've been there. On walking  across the car park to the ticket machine I noticed there was a lady on her way to the same destination. I could paint for you a kind of spaghetti western type scenario where there is a close up of our eyes and a whiplash camera effect back to the machine and then back to our narrowing eyes (and mean expressions) before we break out into a run to be there first. The reality was a lot more sedate than that. But I knew she knew. I knew she was thinking what I was thinking and I quickened my pace. I am British after all, and a run would be so undignified. Besides, I didn't want it to be that obvious that I was trying to beat her. I just wanted to make sure that I actually did, in a non-confrontational manner. I was slightly ahead of her anyway and the natural advantage was mine. If she wanted to get there first she was going to have to be the one to break decorum.

Sure enough, I arrived first and pushed the button just before she drew level with me. To write about this incident is to blow it out of all proportion. It is something that I would usually give hardly any thought to. But, in the few seconds it took for the ticket to print, I had a moment of sanity. I thought, 'I am not in a rush, really, am I?' And, as I resolutely refused to make eye contact, for the embarrassment that any acknowledgement of my selfishness would bring, I decided to give her the ticket that was printing out.

I have no idea what this lady was thinking, but I imagined that, to her, I looked like the sort of heartless self serving queue jumper that would do whatever was necessary to ensure my own needs were met. I think that I might look quite sullen, a little aggressive and maybe a little rough around the edges. But when I plucked the ticket from the machine and simply handed it to her without a word, with just a little hint of a smile, her face lit up and she was disproportionately grateful for the few extra seconds I had just given her.

But the real kindness I had done, was to myself. Because, and this is the phenomena that I have found on other similar occasions, as I walked away, with my own ticket in hand, I began to well up a little. I felt genuinely warm inside, like the ice surface had just cracked and the warm caring emotional human being that had been trapped beneath it was able to breath again. And he was saying to me, 'where the hell have you been?? didn't you realise we were asphyxiating beneath all that self interest?!'

On so many occasions like this, a simple act of kindness has reconnected me to this sense of humanity that I had all but forgotten. For some reason, call it God, if you will, I am so touched by the good that I can do, if I choose to, that it makes me feel alive again.

As I walked through town I began seeing people properly again. I felt acutely aware of our shared vulnerability and our need to be understood and helped. That, beneath the prickly veneer, we are all in need of love, however it manifests itself. The warm feeling is still with me now, an hour or two afterwards.

And just when I sat down to write this, I remembered the bible gateway bible verse (that I get sent daily by email)  from just yesterday;

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

Philippians 2:3-4

And I remember that when driving, how nice it is, when other people let me out of a junction, or give way and I remember how I feel when I do those things for others. I know I am not going to change the world by improving my habits but I can make it a better place, even if momentarily, for those I help. And in doing so I am doing my own soul some good too. And it is almost effortless to do so.

 The problem I find is that in the same journey I may let some one out and  then cut someone else up. The difference between these opposite actions comes down to one thing, and one thing only. It depends on what I chose to do. If there is going to be any consistency I need to rewire my neural pathways by repeatedly looking to the interests of others and that takes grace, yes, and Gods help, but it also requires my making a choice. I hope to remember this. No, I choose to remember it.

Supply lines

I am writing today to talk to you about some thing that is of the utmost spiritual importance. FOOD.
If you will, please add this to my spiritual warfare collection. Yes. That is correct. Food is an issue of spiritual warfare.

Some of the most effective battle strategies through history have been to do with food. It's a well known saying that an army marches on its stomach and for a good reason. Without food all the weapons you can wield are useless. Its for this reason that master military strategists such as Napoleon have used scorched earth policies. The practise of burning all the crops behind them as they advanced. Other effective strategies have been to disrupt and target enemy supply lines, the routes and means of supplying your troops as they fight. Few armies have been able to take enough with them to be able to progress fast enough or to sustain them long enough. Thus looting has long been a practise of various military campaigns.

So why would Satan, a masterful strategist, ignore so vital a part of his campaign against you? Will he come at you only with a direct attack, wielding his tongue like  a sword and showering you with fiery arrows of accusation? Or will he, perhaps, deploy the age old tactic of cutting you off from God's ordained supply lines? I think I know the answer to that. He wants you spiritually anaemic. He wants you weak. He wants you apathetic. He wants you so hungry you will even eat things that may harm you. I am of course speaking of spiritual food here!
So I would say that it is vital to know the supply lines that keep us strong for battle. I don't think I am going to surprise you here, but I want to tell you the things that I think Satan wants to cut you off from.

1. Prayer

Our growth and strength in God depend upon our feeding on Gods presence. If you stop praying you start dying inside. It's really that simple. Its all about the relationship. Satan will do anything he can to disrupt your prayer life. Among his tactics; discouragement, distractions, and disasters that break the flow of daily prayer. Things that are so big that they seem to require ALL your attention, but long after the crisis is over you have still not picked up the baton again. He makes that first molehill-step back to prayer look like a mountain, but it's not. Remember the prodigal story. The father is waiting with open arms to fall on you and embrace. Keep the lines of prayer open, no matter how crappy you feel. It is vital. You need it. Maybe now more than ever. I would include in this section, bible reading too, and all forms of personal devotion.

2. Fellowship.

Satan wants you to think you can go it alone. Especially, he will sometimes  exaggerate the importance of the prayer (Ironically) in order to get you to neglect this one. 'You only need God'  and 'Your personal prayer life is enough', he will say. He doesn't really want you to pray, but he loves to play the anti organised religion card. 'it's messy where other people and their egos are involved', he will say, and he's right. Sometimes it is. But it is vital food to you. God put the command, to love him first, into the context of loving your neighbour. This love is food to us. Both the giving and the receiving. The community of God cannot be neglected if we are to be spiritually sustained. If you walk away from the camp then you walk away from the camp kitchen too. Don't be deceived. We need input. We need the sharpening of clashing egos, of failure and restoration and we need encouragement, all in the context of the Father's love and grace. And, of course, in this context we receive a whole smorgasbord of foods; like corporate worship, instruction, accountability and service. These sustain us too.

3. Obedience.

I left this till last because it is the hardest. Jesus said that his meat was to do the will of the Father.
This is so hard. But if we are cut off from obedience by the thousands of excuses we make (and the devil suggests) we really cannot expect to be sustained as spiritual beings. Like all of these points I have made, I have personal experience of this. But of this more than any other. Every disobedient act weakens us, robs us of our sustenance, be it things we have done that we shouldn't have, or things we should have done, but havent. The fastest way to grow in strength and grace is to feed on doing Gods will. Accept no substitute. It was vital for Jesus, how much more so for us?
If we can identify where our food comes from, we can be much better equipped to defend the supply line. Only a fool would neglect to do so. You keep on fighting on the front line, but pay no attention to your supply, and you are going to do the enemies work for him...and starve yourself out. And that would be a true tragedy.

Grace and peace.

Discipline

I've been spending a lot of time in Hebrews 12 today,  where we are reminded that God disciplines those he loves, or loves those he disciplines.

Now, I have to be honest. Although I have been a Christian nearly all my life and I have  long understood the same God who so loved the world that he sent his only son, is the same God who allowed Job to be tormented by the devil. I've not found this picture of a loving but disciplinarian Father to be all that helpfull.
I have understood that his love is unquestionable,  even when we are going through the worst of times and that somehow,  in his mystery, he allows us to go through suffering because he wants us to grow. Because he loves us.

 

But here's the thing.  It always seemed a bit twisted to me.  Sadistic, almost. Not because I doubt his love, but because I doubt his method.

And I realised today why that was. It is my relationship with the word discipline. You see, where I read the word discipline, I heard 'punishment'. I've been to bible college.  I know this is not what is being spoken of, but subconsciously I don't think I have ever escaped the connotations of the word.

When I think discipline,  I think of the smacking and humiliation I received as a child.  The phrases that stick in my head are 'I'm doing this because I love you', 'this is hurting me more than it is you' and the all time classic,  'it's for your own good!'

I am not suggesting for a minute my father didn't love me. I am not attempting to set this out as a case against corporal punishment. It has its detractors but this is not the time and place for it. The problem is that for a child, its a very confusing message. I'm being hurt here but I'm being told that this is good, that this is love??

But the issue with this kind of discipline is that it is more of a punishment than it is anything else. It is retribution and penalty.  It seems, as I suppose all these things do, to act as a deterrent,  or like aversion therapy.

 

I guess I have never shaken those associations with the word discipline. Especially in terms of Gods discipline.

 

But if we take the word in another of its forms  'disciple' we have entirely different concepts to work with. Think of the way Jesus corrects his disciples, lovingly,  at times with humour.  Sometimes with  the stern rebuke. Yes.  But always with a tender tone. And disciples are there for one thing,  to learn.  And that is what is behind even my own childhood discipline.  My Father was not just disciplining me when he was punishing me. That was just one small part of the discipline he offered me. He discipled me when he taught me to mend a puncture or to solve a mathematical problem.  He discipled me when he showed kindness to my mother,  he discipled me when he prayed with me.  He discipled me through every part of life that he shared with me. This was discipline too. And he did it because he loved me. He wanted to equip me as best as he could to face the world as a godly man. And I respect him for it.

 

And so when I think of Heavenly Father disciplining me today, I see his tender love, his care for me. He is discipling me 'through' the hard times and suffering. He is teaching me, with me, by my side. He's not above, me, pouring out some kind of karmic retribution, hurting me for my own good. He disciples those he loves.

The Anchor and the Storm

Faithful one, so unchanging
Ageless one, you're my rock of peace
Lord of all I depend on you
I call out to you, again and again
I call out to you, again and again

During a worship song at church today, I had one of those moments, the ones where I had to share. I promised God, at the start of this year that I would be obedient to these when they come along. Sometimes I am waiting for the right moment, specifically hoping it will never come, so I don't have to put myself 'out there'. This was not one of those moments. I was nervous, as I always am, but I was certain that I was willing to bring it when the time came. However the right moment did not come. The song, which had inspired the word, drifted into a time of singing in the spirit and then, while I was waiting for it to die down enough to speak the musicians led us into another song.

 So I prayed about what to do with it, and then I thought, 'write it down'. I hope that this is why God didn't allow more space in the meeting at that exact moment. If he had allowed it, I never would have written it down and then you wouldn't be reading this. I hope you know that by me saying you, I mean someone who is meant to be reading this. And it may be that you were in that service and this is still for you. And even if its not specifically for you then it is, at least generally, still for you.

          You are my rock in times of trouble
you lift me up when I fall down
All through the storm
Your love is, the anchor
My hope is in You alone

 

 

 The song we were singing is 'Faithful one', A song that rarely fails to touch me as , for a season at least, it was one of my Mothers favourites. This time the line 'All through the storm your love is the anchor' really grabbed me. I am given to pondering on the imagery of the lyrics, during worship and so it was no surprise to me that I found myself imagining a diagram of an anchored ship, more particularly a sail ship. I saw a cut away sketch that revealed the ship sideways on and the anchor stretching below down to the sea bed.

Firstly the thing that struck me is that there must be some slack with an anchor. I am not remotely naughtical so I may be misinformed. However if the principle stands true for narrow boats then I presume it will for sea going vessels. If you moor your boat with a too taught rope and the water levels rise dramatically  then it will cause the boat to capsize because it is unable to rise with the levels.
So our anchor is. There must be movement. it may look from the surface as though we are drifting a little but we will never go further than the chain allows. If there is no slack, the anchor can work against us.

Secondly the slack that we have, during a storm would allow, to all intents and purposes, the impression to be given that we are at its mercy. The boat will still be tossed about, It will take a battering. But it will not drift further than the anchor allows.

Love is the anchor, within the imagery of this song. Not a harbour. Nor a port. Love is the anchor. We might prefer a harbour, safe and protected but, as wiser people have pointed out, a ship is not meant to be in a harbour. It is meant to be at sea. And you were not made to be in one place of safety for the rest of your days. You were made for voyages. Love is a security that you can take with you. It is a portable harbour.

I believe God wanted to say that despite appearances, out there on the high seas, if you're taking a battering, if you appear to be drifting, his love will not let you go. It holds you, unseen beneath the waves. You may only drift so far. All through the storm, his love is the anchor.

In our life group this past week we looked at a well known passage from scripture, Romans 8, which speaks about the unconquerable power of Gods love for us, that is in Christ;

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.~ v37-39

This anchor holds firm through EVERY storm, Christian. EVERY storm. If you drift, you never go beyond its reaches or ability to keep you. This is love that wilt not let you go.
If you are in the storm, take courage. If you are in the port, put out to sea. God made you to have the wind in your sails and air of freedom in your face.

Job's Other Children.

While he was still speaking, yet another messenger came and said, “Your sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, when suddenly a mighty wind swept in from the desert and struck the four corners of the house. It collapsed on them and they are dead, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!” Job 1:18-19

Job is consoled at the end of his story, by 10 more children, Seven sons and three beautiful daughters. He lives to 140, and sees his descendants to the 4th generation. His riches are restored and he was blessed more by God, in the post disaster part of his life, than he had been in the first part. But I wonder, if at 139, bouncing his great, great grandchildren on his weakened knees, he didn't spare a thought for the children that he lost in that awful storm. I suspect that no matter what came after, nothing could have replaced what he had lost. Grief is like that. It never goes entirely. It kind of reshapes you, it becomes livable but it is still present.

I have always struggled to find comfort in the children that Job receives after the event. It seems to me, (taking aside that these were real children, real human beings with their own individual attributes and personalities and ways of relating to their Father), that their presence in the story just rubs salt in the wounds. I am a father. I am sure it doesn't work like that. You love each child on their own merit, and sometimes without much merit. But it seems to me that we are being asked by the story, to simply accept that everything is okay again. And what about those Children? What had they done to deserve to be wiped out like that?

At some fundamental level my response to this is the same as it would be to those deaths of school children in Oklahoma this week, the same as it would be to any children lost in natural disasters, or any adults for that matter (and Jobs children were grown, that much is clear by the nature of the activity they were involved in at the time of their demise). My response is, 'its not fair!'

But the thing I realised about the story of Job is that it is the story of Job. Profound, hey? What I mean is, ultimately, as far as the story goes, it is not about them. That does not mean, that if they were real flesh and blood people, that God did not care about them, or that he had simply chalked them up as collateral damage. It means that that is another story, and one that is not told in scripture. The story we are told is about Job and not his children. It is about how we respond to suffering, and how we maintain our integrity when all the anchors of reasoning and emotional connection to the Almighty are ripped out of the ground in a single moment.

Job's story raises many questions about the origins of evil and causes of suffering. Job mostly maintains his integrity but none the less, in the awe inspiring end to the long explorations of these themes, God declares himself to Job. He says

Who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge?

Firstly it needs to be observed that whenever we speak about these things, we are lacking in a knowledge of what we speak of. We only get one very limited perspective. We see in part, only. God then, through a series of questions compares his own achievements to Job's (and really humanity's) own. It is really his way of making the distinction clear. We are not dealing with another man here. This is the Almighty, maker of the universe. Essentially, who are we to question him?

Not exactly the comfort we are looking for but, at some deeper level I think it might just be. God is enshrouded in mystery. Perhaps that despite an all powerful and benevolent creator there is such suffering is the greatest mystery we will ever have to face. Our impotence in the face of it is quite humbling. Perhaps we don't need answers, perhaps we need acceptance. If God was not loving though, this would be a terrible state of affairs. It is only when we understand the love of God that we can start to trust him, that he knows what he is doing, even when we are clueless and blinded with grief and rage. He never lost control. Not once. Sometimes the things that we must face are crippling but If God is redeeming the world to himself, at least, ultimately, there is a purpose in it. It is not needless, senseless suffering. It is a mystery but it is not without reason, nor apart from divine love.

And it is not the story of those whose time is done, be they seven or seventy. The question is what are we to do, how are we to respond?

My life is in your hands

I haven't done this for a while. No, not the blog, although I haven't. I mean the type of blog. I don't tend to use it for personal journalling but tonight I wanted to just get this down while its fresh. But it is quite personal. Don't worry, not THAT personal.

I've been thinking about trying some meditation again. A while back, a long while back, I had in my possession a clutch of books that taught on meditation, from a biblical perspective which I fully intended to read, and apply. The ancients used to do it, the Patriarch's of our faith, King David, the church fathers, the desert fathers and lots of godly people. I have a sneaky suspicion that Jesus used to do it himself. But in my church tradition it is almost a dead practise. There is a wide acknowledgement that biblical meditation is a perfectly  acceptable and beneficial practise. But can I find anyone in my acquaintance who regularly practises it, or who teaches it? I'm sure there may be a few who dabble but I have rarely heard anyone speak of it.

Anyway I had started to read a couple of the books. Richard Foster's 'Celebration of Discipline'' (Which starts with Meditation) and 'School for Prayer' by Metropolitan Anthony. I had started to experiment a little with silence, in my prayer life, but felt about as spiritual as a discarded prophylactic. But that was nothing to the conviction I started to feel when I read the books by these Godly men. There writing was so rich with spiritual authority that it almost hurt to read it. I could barely get through two sentences without being deeply challenged. I wanted to achieve a deeper prayer life and a closeness with God but in all honesty I found it, and still do in many ways, too costly. You don't get nearer to God without transformation. Its that simple. And, after a short time, I had wimped out.

But I had been thinking lately that it might be time to face it again. Indeed, I thought a little earlier in the week that I may well pick up one of my books again and start putting it in to practise, reporting back on my progress in a weekly blog.

Almost independently from this thinking, I had an experience this evening which kind of confirmed things to me again. That this was the right direction for me. I was walking home from house group, across the fields, a few miles listening to my MP3 player the whole way. As is my habit, when walking and not surrounded by people, my thoughts were interspersed with prayer, but no real concentration. I was approaching the last field when I felt, from nowhere, seemingly, that perhaps I ought to just turn off the music and walk over this last field, in silence. And listen, you know, to God.

In all my times at home sitting in silence, even using a biblical mantra on a few occasions, I had never experienced anything but frustration. But on a few of the occasions I have practised this silence whilst walking I have heard Gods voice. Not an audible one, a voice that is identical to the sound of my thoughts. In other words, It is no different from my thinking. what IS distinctive about it, when it actually happens, is the nature of the thoughts themselves. they are always authoritative and gentle. Direct and wise. And they nearly always bring clarity. the first time I heard God speak like this, he said 'Shut up'. A very good starting place. The bible tells us, be still and know that I am God. Yes. that requires some reverent silence, accompanied by more than a little awe.

And almost immediately as I stepped into that last field, he began speaking to me. He told me it had been too long since I did this, he affirmed that it felt good tom me to be in his presence, didn't it? (yes it did, Lord) and he told me, He had been here waiting for this, ever since I gave up on it. That he didn't mind, because he is patient. I started to respond in my head, in the silence, and my thoughts got mixed up with his. I started to surrender to him. And the words came into my head, 'My life is in your hands'. I took this to be an expression of trust on my part.

And then it became clear to me, or at least clearer. Wasn't it God that had been speaking. Yes, I think that was him, not me. God was saying 'my life is in your hands'. I had to think about that.

Was he saying I was responsible for his life? Of course not, at least not in the most obvious sense. But the more I think about that phrase, the richer it is.  But in a way I am responsible for his life which he has put inside me. Not responsible for ensuring his safety, but responsible for what I do with the gift he has given me. He has placed it into my hands. My decisions and actions are therefore doubly important.

And on another level, 'My life is in your hands'. Hands are symbolic of what we do, our actions. So in what I do, in how I chose to serve him, that is where his life is. In two distinct ways. One is that I am acting as his hands and feet. His life is reaching others through me. I am acting as his representative when I do his work. Two is that he brings life to what my hands do, when they are employed in his service.

I needed to hear this, because, I have lost some sense of connection to this, over the years. That I make a difference. It may not be a huge difference but it is a difference none the less. He is not going to indwell me and overpower me. If there is a blockage to my doing his will then 'Guess what, matey?' It's up to me to remove it.  I do not mean to play down Gods grace, not at all. I just mean to play up my responsibility to make a difference. I have a tendency to coast. Father knows that and tonight he kindly told me, that it is time to wake up, and see what a precious thing he has given me, and to see how much more effectively i can serve him with it. Because his life is in my hands. His healing can flow through them too. I am in him, and he is in me. To think I so nearly missed that tonight because he spoke to me in a way I would not usually have heard. Only if I was silent. Only if I was listening.

 I think the Richard Foster book may getting a visit from me in the not too distant future.

basis for belief. Part 1: The Theology of Instincts

How do we arrive at our own set of theological beliefs? what guides us? I am afraid this post may raise more questions than it answers. For me this subject has been the terrain on a journey of thought for a fair few years now.

A few weeks back I was talking to a friend I had not seen in a while. They were describing to me the church they are worshipping at regularly these days. "They're okay with homosexuality" my friend said, before adding with passionate intensity, "because I could never be part of a church that that didn't accept gay people".

Although the language of my own theological position might lead some to believe otherwise, the church I go to now, accepts gay people. That is to say, it accepts people who are gay. However, although I could not give you chapter and verse, I believe our position on practising homosexuality is that it is a sin.

This isn't a piece on homosexuality, it just happens to be a subject that illustrates the principle. I must confess at some level I was impressed with my friends attitude. It was that passionate, instinctive response that gave me cause for admiration. I have found myself , so, so often, having to be counter intuitive when it comes to certain theological matters. Counter intuitive in order to maintain integrity within the evangelical framework where my beliefs seem to sit best. So, say for example, that my first response to homosexuality was not disgust but empathy, was not judgement but acceptance then I would have to weigh that against what I believe the bible seems to teach. If the bible seems to say to me that homosexuality is a sin then for the sake of my beliefs in the authority of scripture (and let me be clear, the bible does not say judgemental attitudes are good or that empathy for homosexuals is bad, far from it) I must then submit my first (and most instinctive) response to that higher principle. Integrity in tact? Possibly, depending on your definition of integrity. If my guiding principle is to be true to scripture, then yes. If it is to be true to myself, then no. Unless being true to myself is to be true to scripture in spite of myself. let me put it this way. If I was supreme being, an awful lot of murderers would get off Scott free because I felt sorry for them. Sometimes you just have to bow to a higher law.
What I envied in my friend was their ability to believe wholeheartedly in what they felt to be instinctively right. An intuitive response to doctrine. This just feels wrong, therefore, it sucks and I am not going to believe it. A theology of instincts.

When I was a child I reasoned like a child. For me there was only one kind of Christianity. Our kind, the kind I was taught. It was simple. On meeting other Christians I would assume that we were on the same page. I knew nothing of the reformation or the canon of scripture, or really even denominations. God was loving. Jesus died for my sins, the bible is Gods word to mankind etc. It was that simple to me.

But something went wrong. Although I was raised in a house where my Father held to Calvinistic theologies, for example, I was intuitively sure (and they never taught either in Sunday school) that you could lose your salvation. I had no idea of "perseverance of the saints" and not a clue who Arminius was. Still don't, truth be told. I had no clue about doctrine. My faith was built from the half formed ideas that I had gleaned from the twin sources of parental wisdom (via the bible) and my own intuitive imagination.

When I got to bible college, years later, I was utterly shocked to hear about the early church councils , and of how our heavenly, divinely inspired scriptures were compiled and decided on, effectively, by a committee. I had never...and I mean NEVER thought about how the bible, the very thing I based my life on, was compiled. I had never even considered when the gospels were written, or if the people who were supposed to have written them had really written them. My only thoughts had been as to whether I believed them or not. Not where they had come from.

The whole process shocked me in its ordinariness. In its utter humanity. There seemed almost nothing divine about the process, Way too messy. How on earth could I have got this far and not even considered it? It beggared belief. It really did.
I have since come to terms with the sheer humanity of it all. I love the earthiness of scripture. I see the warts and all approach to narrative as an indication of its historicity, with its flawed heroes and its apparent contradictions.You would never include what is included if it was a fit up! I see the bible as divine because it shows how God gets involved in our mess, because he comes into our darkness and shines his light and our darkness doesn't overcome that light. Its a compilation of 66 books with multiple authorship spanning across human history but God is in it from Genesis to Revelation.

But it raises the question. On what basis did I accept that the bible was my divine authority? The word of God to me, to be obeyed without question?

I suppose it goes back to those early church councils, set up to define orthodoxy and build a comprehensive canon of scripture. What was their purpose? To refute heresy and to build a clear basis for authority. Here's the bottom line, and I am speaking form a protestant perspective here, with out scripture we may as well believe anything. Many of Paul's letters are in and as of themselves written for that very purpose, albeit initially on a local level. To define sound doctrine and good practise. I have to believe that just as God was sovereignly "in" the situations whereby the individual authors came to write the words, using their language and personality to get down just what he wanted to be there (without possessing them and controlling their hands as they wrote), that so was he sovereignly "in" the minutiae of the councils decision making, causing what he wanted to be included to "float to the top". In short I have to have faith in it, in the same way that I have faith in Jesus. There are many depths to be plumbed here but I want to get to the heart of the argument so I will.

For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear.~ 2 Tim 4:3

This to me is the most convincing argument for orthodoxy. As with homosexuality, as with the doctrine of hell and, to a lesser extent, for me, male leadership there are many things that are traditionally included in the gospel which seem more unpalatable now than they ever did. I am not immune to it, I am a child of my age.

If my instincts alone were to come into play I would, in all honesty, do away with hell, promote women bishops and Arch Bishops and outlaw any form of discrimination against homosexuals whatsoever.

But when I joined the church I came to understand one fundamental thing. That my instincts were, if not motivated by sin, then tainted by it. (The heart is desperately wicked and deceitful above all things, who can know it? Jer 17:9). And in order to join the body of Christ I must die to myself, lay down my understanding where ever it contradicted God. Humility is the key. And so my instinct is (I told you I would be getting back to this) that while my friend may feel unable to be "part of a church that does not accept gay people" I feel far more strongly that I am unable to be part of a church that throws off all accountability and believes and practises only what it likes. The day you find yourself in a situation where no part of your worship contradicts your own desires, only agrees with your own world view and reflects your own opinions, is the day, I humbly suggest that the thing you are worshipping may just be your self.

Next time I hope to be looking at this in a little more detail.

The spilling out of truth

It was a fair few weeks after mum died. Dad was being extremely efficient at dealing with Mums stuff and we had agreed between the four of us that my sister should have her car. This was the day she had come over to collect it. The car was one of the last things to be dealt with as it was away from the house, parked on the drive. Not like her possessions which had filled the house that we were living in.

The initial shock of her death had worn off and I had been able to do a great deal of grieving by this point. I was coming to a place resembling a sort of stability and that crushing weight seemed to have started to lift. Things look very different from within a microcosm. I had no idea what to expect or what the journey I would undertake would hold for me. In truth even now, some 7 yrs on, I am still unwrapping the experience.....but now the surprises are not so thick and fast. They have slowed almost to a standstill.

However on this day in question, I was starting to feel like I was finally coming to terms with my mothers early death from cancer. I naively thought that the worst was over. That was my experience. My sisters was probably very different. My fathers grief seemed from an outside perspective fairly self contained but of course that was only a snapshot. As I have discovered, we all deal with grief very differently.

My father, my sister and I were stood on the driveway looking at the navy Renault Clio while discussing aspects relating to it. How it ran, how many miles to the gallon it did and how much Mum had loved it. All good. There was little teasing of my sister relating to her track record with accidents, a glass house from which I have no entitlement to throw stones, but do, none the less. The atmosphere was casual, even jovial.

And then we looked inside. Just to check what was there, in order to deal with it appropriately. Nothing noteworthy. The usual things were there. A few cassettes,  a leftover parking ticket, a bit of lip balm, a half finished packet of Polo's. The Polo's sent me into reminiscence a little and should have hinted at what was about to be unleashed. My mum was well known for her polo mints. A tool she had so often used to extend friendship and to bring comfort. When one was hurt the offer of a mint could be kindness that started a healing process.

The business having all but concluded, the conversation started to take the air it does when it was about to be wrapped up. Sentences becoming slightly more succinct, body language a little more kinetic. We had all but turned away from the car when Dad decided to have a quick look in the glove box.

They spilt out as soon as he pushed the release, like they had been inside there pushing against the flimsy panel for an eternity, stuffed in there as they must have been, their volume barely being contained by the tiny unit of the glove box, spilling out onto the passenger seat. Her black fur trimmed hat, her tartan scarf and her gloves.

It was not so much what was in there, although the trio of objects instantly conjured an image that was so typical of my mother, but rather it was that we did not expect it that caused it to have such an impact. It was like a jack-in-the-glove-box of my mums personality. And it was uncontainable.  The shock rocked across the faces of my father and sister and, although I could not observe it, I am sure that my sense of shock showed in my own face as much as their own did in theirs. We had not really gone there together at this stage, although obviously it had been talked about, and this corporate wave of grief seemed to overwhelm us all simultaneously beneath the same wave. We awkwardly addressed it but none of us really acknowledging the depth of it. At least that was my perception.

It was, for me at least, symbolic of the pattern of grief that was to unfold over the next few years particularly. C.S. Lewis wrote a book entitled "Surprised by Joy". If I were to write one based on my experiences over that time, I would have to call it "Surprised by Grief". So many times, unexpectedly, the grief would come like a wave. And like a wave it would send me reeling. Once, in my kitchen, in the middle of cooking dinner literally unable to stand under the weight of it, sobbing and heaving on the floor.

But the things that would set off my grief were often memories and the memories were so often good. The image of my dead mothers accessories spilling out of that glove box was an image of life emerging from death, of repressed emotions erupting from soul-sucking numbness. I'd rather have the pain of loss with the joy of the memory than the true death of no memories at all.

There comes a time when the thing you suppress becomes greater than your ability to contain it. In one of my favourite films "Sense and Sensibility" this theme is addressed expertly. Ang Lee, who is more than adept at portraying repression (See The Ice Storm or Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) directs Emma Thompson as Elinor Dashwood, a woman who is forced to enact the sensibility of the title by repressing her feelings for Edward Ferrars and acting with what must be the crushing civility demanded by the social conventions of regency period etiquette. Throughout the film she is thwarted again and again and forced to act as indifferent whilst she is slighted and sidelined as her heart is broken by degrees. And then comes the moment where she is faced with Edward Ferrars, whom she previously believed to be married and he tells her that she is mistaken. In a wave of grief and relief as she is unable to control her emotions any longer she lets out a howl which rocks you to the core. All the more for the repressive feeling of the rest of the film and the quiet nature that you have been falsely led to believe is hers. There are flash points like this, for all of us, where we connect to who we are, deep down, despite our best efforts. It is impossible to hide all of the time.

King David wrote in his psalm;

You have searched me, Lord, And you know me.....you perceive my thoughts from afar....Before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely (Psalm 139).

I always take great comfort in the knowledge that I do not surprise God. I may surprise myself but not him. I may disappoint myself....but not him. I may fool myself...but I cant fool him. He knows and yet his love for me is unchanged.

I suppose one of the reasons I like the psalms is their raw honesty. They rarely attempt to make pretty pictures of how the author is feeling. If they are in anguish they say they are in anguish. If they are being outcast or picked on, then that is what is depicted. If they are feeling abandoned by God then the accusation is levelled directly to the ears of the almighty. Questions are raised and aired and, shock horror, sometimes left unanswered. In short their authors were finding a space, a prayerful space where there was an outlet for all emotions. And I know we can be scared of the depths sometimes but we need to be able, like David at the end of Psalm 139, to pray sincerely "Search me and know me". I like even more that these earthier songs of disgruntlement were at times sung corporately. So unlike some of our far more indulgent but stagnant acts of worship. In Lamentations 2:19 we are told to

pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord

 

 

Lying to yourself will never produce good results. Lying to God could be a form of spiritual suicide, in that you cut out your only true means of healing. Thank God, David also said in 139

 

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
   even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.

 

 



 



Pretty amazing, right? You see, you can lie to God, but you can never pull the wool over his eyes. In his grace this light that searches us, is a healing light, because he loves us. And because he loves us, he will not let us hide forever. Somewhere there is a flash point, waiting for you, like the glove box was for me. For darkness is as light to you. I love that.

Margaret Thatcher: Party-Political?

I had a conversation with an American friend shortly after Bin laden was killed. I took exception to the partying on the streets at a man being shot in the head in his home in front of his family, no matter who he was. She asked "Weren't you guys celebrating too?"
Sure there was a sense of justice having been done but not the kind I could celebrate. For me it was a sombre reflection. A knowledge that if you live by the sword you will probably die by the sword. If you don't live by the sword, unfortunately, as Bin Laden proved, it does not necessarily mean you wont die by the sword.

I have hated the politics of Margaret Thatcher for as long as I was able to understand them. Those of my contemporaries who were about 5 years older than myself were vastly more impacted by what she did to this country. Love or hate her, she was responsible for politicising many of my generation. I first became politically aware when John Major got us involved in the first Gulf war, and when the Criminal "Justice" act was passed and when they bought in the poll tax. A little too late for Thatcher but early on enough in the aftermath to feel aware of the impact of her policies and outlook. By the time she resigned her premiership I was 17 and I had never been conscious of another Prime minister.
She may have as well been the Queen.

But my dislike for her politics is not my reason for writing today. As every one is saying, she was a unique individual, a divisive figure, a woman of convictions, I am sure. A woman with a clear and unswerving vision. But a flawed woman none the less. But just as I did not rejoice in the death of Bin Laden I cannot make a party out of the death of someone I did not like. She too had blood on her hands, as most of our leaders seem to, but I cannot bring myself to celebrate.

I don't understand how people who claim to follow the politics of compassion can hold street party's to celebrate the passing of a woman in her 80s from a stroke, while her family and friends grieve her death. Where is the compassion in that? She was undeserving of compassion, they say. Perhaps that is the argument?! But the whole point of a politics of compassion is surely a society where all are treated with decency and respect. I argue it is never more needed than where it is least deserved.

If figures like Gandhi and Martin Luther King, in the face of far worse opposition than the members of our impoverished mining communities and all the others she marginalised, can take the moral high ground and walk in forgiveness and respect for all, then surely those who claim to have a higher sense of moral conscience can do the decent thing in regards to the death of Mrs Thatcher and keep it shut! Her day was done a long time ago. To spit on her grave is no more effective than to refuse to shake hands with the winning team once the football match is over. What difference does it make to the outcome? Save your vitriol for the return match, please. As Billy Bragg said;

Raising a glass to the death of an infirm old lady changes none of this. The only real antidote to cynicism is activism. Don't celebrate - organise!

Jesus taught me to love my enemies. That at no point told me to condone what they had done to deserve my enmity but to love them anyway. It is, after all, love that transcends all politics and truly restores dignity to humanity. And Margaret Thatcher was only human. Rest in peace.

Easter Saturday

I bought a CD last year by the American duo "All Sons and Daughters" entitled "season one". I discovered it when I made use of the listening facility at the Church book shop where I volunteer. It was a slow day and I was intrigued by the rather unusual band name. To be honest I wasn't sure which was the bands name and which was the the name of the album! I was hooked instantly. The duos harmonies were exquisite, the music worshipful with a contemporary feel, their instruments  (Piano and guitar) blending like their harmonies as the melodies both swooped and soared. It had a fairly mournful and melancholic tone but the whole thing was bursting with searing rays of hope throughout. I'm not a music critic, or even musical so I cant be expected to describe it perfectly. All I can tell you is I was so moved by it that I had to buy it then and there. I couldn't afford to and hadn't planned to but I HAD to.

With the CD came a DVD where they performed a few of  their songs with a small discussion about the background of the songs preceding each one. The album seemed to have been written from one of those wilderness periods. This is the "season" they were referring to in the title. The beauty of the title "season one" is that a season two is implicit. In the talk that preceded their song "Buried in the Grave" they spoke about how the church traditionally majors on Good Friday and Easter Sunday but often neglects to make much of Easter Saturday.

But Easter Saturday is resonant with all of our christian experiences. It is a time of waiting. How much of our Journey with God is us waiting on a promise, sitting in the ashes of our shattered hopes. In my experience it is not uncommon. This is what the disciples must have felt like on Easter Saturday. Broken, disillusioned, disappointed, grieving.

An empty ache in disciples hearts,

Their world has fallen apart,

They've been woken with a start

From the sleeping where they dreamt of thrones,

(from my poem "The Emptiness")

 Jesus spoke of a grain of wheat falling to the ground and dying in order to give a harvest that outweighs its original value. We often forget that not only is there a dying but there is a waiting, a being buried. A germination period, if you will.

In life we have our moments of sacrifice and we have our moments of victorious resurrection but much of our life is spent in this growing/waiting period in between. We must not and cannot despise it. God has included it for a reason. We must not despise ourselves either when we do not feel triumphant. This is the time for hope and trust to do their work. Sometimes that means a filtering out of all other false hopes...a pairing down until all we have left is the raw and exposed bare bones of a hope in the promises of God.

But Sunday is coming. God will not be mocked. Ultimately there is no shame for those who have trusted in God and the Son. Imagine how the disciples must have felt when Jesus entered the room. Place yourself there. Hope is our bread and butter.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plzxF29AuOQ

Justice and Mercy caught in salacious shock snogging scandal (psalm 85:10)

Yes its true! The original opposites attract couple have been caught in a public display of nauseating affection. The pair, who have long denied that they are a couple, were seen  in lip-lock by hundreds of local people at a public event on Good Friday.
For eons we have always held them to be uneasy bedfellows . Pundits, philosophers and leading speakers on ethics have all held them to be incompatible. So much so that they have been seen as two distinct choices.  Justice or Mercy. There have been rumors that they could not stand one another, as they almost consistently refused to be seen together.  If you wanted Justice you needed to make sure that Mercy did not catch wind of it and vice versa.
Its true they have always hung out in the same places, been involved with the same causes but the cheeky loved up pair never gave their affair away. Our best reporters have never been able to pin a thing on them...until NOW!

They were caught in the passionate clinch, so engrossed in each other, so entwined that they appeared unconcerned who saw them. The potential publicity stunt was staged in a the most public and inappropriate place that could have been picked. A solem official occasion where the leaders of our city were all gathered to witness the important execution of the criminal and blasphemous Jesus of Nazareth.  That's right.  While dutiful citizens mocked and jeered they seemed unperturbed as they only had eyes for each other.

Speaking after the gaff which has divided public opinion,  righteousness said that he had long been tired of playing the occasional bad cop to Mercy's good cop. "It was getting to me. Righteous requirement for entry into Gods presence was 100% when did I ever get to let some one off.  Sure I was loved when criminals were punished,  especially notorious ones. But what about parking fines, and temple taxes.  No-one loved me then...except that it turns out Mercy felt the same, for totally different reasons! "

Mercy,  with legs as long as Justice's famous "long arms of law", is a real beauty.  She spoke to us from the orphanage she was currently operating from. "Yes, they are in great shape aren't they? My pins are my souvenirs from  so many extra miles! "

Confirming the new romance, we can exclusively reveal,  she said "Justice gets such a hard reputation but of course I get where he's coming from. The thing we have in common is our integrity. I can never turn my back on anyone.  Its such a bind!  Oh and everyone likes me when I wave a fine  or forgive a grudge but I would let a serial killer off without a thought.
We bonded over our integrity which is ironic really because its the one thing that keeps us apart.  Until we saw the son of God die, that is! We both looked up from the cross and our eyes met. Though we were old rivals (and had scretly long admird each other) it was like we'd seen each other for he first time. He was quite beautiful, simply beautiful."

 

Love and faithfulness meet together;
righteousness and peace kiss each other.

Psalm 85:10

 

 

Our clearly loopy pair apparently understood that in the death of this criminal, Gods righteous law was fulfilled by his perfect sacrifice, the gaga couple claimed. Sure. Also they claim that it is now possible for God to show complete mercy to sinners who come to him because the demands of justice have been met. This, they claim, allows the justified recipients of Mercy to live with Grace, their cousin! This is apparently what got them all hot under the collar.  They are clearly some kind of weird fetishists.....but then love makes you do crazy things!

You can expect to see this couple a whole lot more since they met at the cross.  If you know where to look the celebrity lovers are now inseparable. You heard it here first In the Judean Times.

 

 

On the mount of crucifixion,
Fountains opened deep and wide;
Through the floodgates of God’s mercy
Flowed a vast and gracious tide.
Grace and love, like mighty rivers,
Poured incessant from above,
And Heav’n’s peace and perfect justice
Kissed a guilty world in love.

Be yourself

This isn't going to be pretty and this isn't a theological piece. Not even a devotional, really. You might call it a testimony of sorts.

In the past when I heard people saying things like "It never occurred to me that God might want me to be myself", I treated it, at some level, a little cynically. So much of what we encounter in our worldly culture encourages us to chase our dreams, to follow our hearts. If I am honest, it seemed just a bit too convenient to me that people often attested to feeling like square pegs in a round hole. They would site evidence such as "not feeling comfortable" with what they were doing (usually in a church setting) as supporting the "feeling" that there was something else they should be doing. I have been in church long enough to hear this story in a few guises and on many different occasions by now. Though I empathise with the feeling, I confess, I still didn't really get it. I think, at some level, I thought they were sacrificing duty on the altar of self interest.

In a largely unspoken way, in my family, duty and longevity has been held in the highest regard, certainly on the paternal side of my family. We are committers and stickers. My father laudably has always spoken about this sense of determination and perseverance with pride (not in a sinful sense). These are qualities that the world, and sadly the church at times, neglect to promote. The idea of "church hopping", for example, would be almost unthinkable to us. And for me the idea of going where the best action is and leaving a flagging church, like a rat off a sinking ship is equally unpalatable. I think we've always seen ourselves more like the band on the Titanic, going down with the ship, still playing our instruments. Honourable, praiseworthy and, sometimes, stupid.

Before you get your backs up let me define my terms a little with a tale.

In the summer after I got saved (renewed, restored, "came back to the Lord": insert your own appropriate term) I found myself in a deadlock with my sinful nature. I'd returned to church for 6 months or so by now. After some very powerful repentance, I found that it was taking a lot more than resolve to kick my drug habit. My best intentions and my heaviest tears couldn't seem to count when it came to the crunch. Peer pressure loomed heavily over me at the age of 18 and, if I am honest, I am not sure how comfortable I was with change. It was just too easy for me to hide out in the habit like Elijah in his cave, licking my wounds. But the metaphorical ravens came. I was sustained. I had a bright idea. "What I need", I thought, "Was a purpose! Something to occupy me, to get me free from this situation, trapped in social circles that were destroying me".

I cant remember where it came from but the thought that I ought to go to the mission field came to me. It was almost laughable, I know. A dope head going to win the nations for Christ. But with my families help I located YWAM and applied to do a Discipleship Training School (DTS) at their Scottish training base in the September of that year. Remarkably I got accepted. There were a lot of omissions on my application form, I must say. And so the fleece was laid out before the Lord. I told him I needed to raise the money by the deadline. To be more precise, I gave him an ultimatum. I said that if he came up with the money, I would change my life and go. I also told him that if he did not (try not to laugh) that I would return to live in a squat and work on becoming a published poet.

There are a few tells here as to what I want to bring out (if you are still reading after the mention of poetry, that is). Firstly it is that I considered this to be the way I should go (and yes I did go). I had an idea of what the life of a servant of God looked like. That life was a lot more like a missionaries life than it was the life of a poet. It was an ideal that I imposed on myself. That was "holiness" as I saw it then.
Secondly I was the one who laid down the condition. What I had always (or rather long) wanted to do was to be a writer, and primarily a writer of poetry. You see what I had done? I took my hearts desires and I stood them in opposition to the idea of what I perceived God wanted for my life. It was him or me! Missions or Poems. It was a dichotomy entirely fabricated in my own head, with the helping hand of a few of the enemies lies, I am sure. I didn't even consider that he may have given me those desires in the first place.
Thirdly, partially subconsciously, I took Gods answer, in providing the money, to be a verdict on the poetry idea. He had spoken and so that was not the path for me.

A few years later I recreationally took up the poetry again but writing did not feature anymore in my dreams until I next found myself in a sadly back-slidden state. You see I held it as a rebellion. A "stuff you" to God. A "I'm going to do what I like" statement. A "time to follow MY dreams now, God" kind of statement. I am sure he chuckled, like I chuckle at my boy when hes in a pantomime sulk.

People often talked, especially in bible college, of how they found some worship songs very hard to sing. It is usually the ones where we offer great sacrifice to God. I found myself involved in kids work a fair bit, whilst at college, and the song I struggled with the most is "If I were a butterfly". One line in particular.

I just thank you Father for making me, me.

You see, all my life I have held duty and sacrifice to be more valuable than heartfelt desires.  That "who I was" was to be sacrificed to my fathers God, like Isaac on the altar. It was subconscious, but it was there. But it's stupid to drown on the Titanic when there are seats going spare on the life boats, especially devinely ordained lifeboats.

This summer just gone, God started to revive my dreams of writing. He has lead me into a time of permission to be myself. To use the gifts he has given me. I have come to realise that the peg is not the wrong shape, it was doing the wrong job. I have actively been pursuing the dream of using my creative talents to serve him ever since. These blogs are just a part. I dont believe he ever meant me to drown.

I believe that God made each of us uniquely and loves us completely as we are. Jesus came to live and die for me in my unredeemed state. There were no conditions or ultimatums from him. He just drew me with his love. Of course he asks for sacrifices but I don't believe it is ever WHO we are that is to be sacrificed. As I have grown with him on this most exciting part of my 30 yr walk with him, I have come to know that the more I am like Jesus, the more I am like who he created me to be. An individual reflection of the creators Glory. I don't believe that heaven will be full of drones or "Jesus clones"; devoid of personality or difference. God is far more imaginative than that. He doesn't want to take away from you, he wants to complete you, his masterpieces. His poems.

Last week In church, I read a fictional piece of narrative that I wrote, based on fact, that was an account of Pilates meeting with Jesus. It was the first time I have done that. It felt like a milestone and Gods blessing seemed to be on it. I never would have believed that God could have used something I love doing so much, in that way. It felt like a homecoming. And I guess, ultimately that's what our pilgrimage through this life is, a homecoming, back to where you belong. I intend to start getting used to it.

3 Fools, Part 1: Fools Rush in Where Atheists Love to Tread

The fool has said in his heart,
“There is no God.”

Psalm 14:1

 

I was meditating on this today. Meditation sounds rather grand. What happened is that my thoughts came onto this verse (for no particular reason) as I was going about my duties and I lingered on it a while. It was unplanned but I indulged it a while.

 

This verse comes to my mind most forcefully when I think about atheism. This is what the bible says. Its not my personal opinion, born of my own reason. There are some extremely intelligent atheists, many among my peers, who have far better powers of reasoning and scientific understanding than my own. But the bible seems to say that regardless of this they are fools.

 

A recent post on a friends facebook page prompted a brief online discussion which I think informs what I would like to say here. There was a picture of a child in a font, clearly very upset about the process of baptism that they were undergoing. The caption read something very close to "There is no such thing as religious children, only children of religious parents". I actually believe in adult baptism so I had some sympathy with the sentiment but this is besides the point. My response to the post was to say that there is no such thing as atheist children. The default position is not atheism, in my opinion, as this is a considered belief system as complex in its out workings as theism.

 

This discussion came back to my mind as I thought about atheism. Firstly I wondered if belief in God (or any deities, for that matter) were truly, as my friend had suggested, "purely a human construct".  I can only speak with any authority (and very limited at that) on my own experience of childhood. Before I was fully taught the ways of my parents religion, and during too, if I am honest, I did not have a definite knowledge or understanding of God, or the concept of God. It was taught to me. That's why we have scriptures; to preserve the knowledge in order that we may pass it on. I cannot conclude that I was born 'religious'. So far the photo's caption holds true.

On the other hand I was not born with an innate disposition towards disbelief. Quite the opposite, in fact. I was born hungry for knowledge, hungry for beliefs that would sustain me, as all humans are (whatever conclusions they may arrive at). I think we are supposed to work it out.

 

But to suggest that atheism is a default position of humanity is, in my opinion, still a folly. Before atheism was "discovered" kaleidoscopes of belief systems have been rife across history and humanity. Humans, it seems, will believe almost anything. It has been mainly the "enlightenment" that has fuelled the brand of atheism we see today, backed up today with The scriptures of Dawkins and Darwin. Atheism in this form is a relatively new phenomenon. I cant claim to know my history inside out, and I am sure there have been all manner of skeptics and unbelievers since the very beginings of history, but it strikes me that this is not the kind of Atheism that the Psalmist is addressing. Atheism as a human construct, as most of us understand it did not yet exist.

 

So what does he mean? What is this foolishness he seems to speak of? I want to suggest here that the foolishness does not refer to Atheism. Atheism is almost unheard of. The fool has not said in his heart." I conclude through a rational analysis of the facts to hand that I see no evidence for the existence of a higher power". It is not an intellectual denial of God that is being spoken of here (though naturally I am not going to say there is any wisdom in doing that!).

 

The fool has said it "In his heart". Not his head. In his heart. It's an emotional response, primarily. This is not about reason, its about evasion. Before I develop this I need to point out another observation. It is not clear here, which came first. The density or the denial. The foolishness or the faithlessness. He says the fool HAS said, past tense. Has he said there is no God because he is a fool?(the implication being there is no understanding) or is he a fool because this is the conclusion he arrives at? I believe it to be the latter.

Why has he said this in his heart? It is often the case that Christians are accused of interpreting the facts in light of the beliefs they already hold. The scientific method is to form beliefs in the light of the facts that are uncovered. In this case we see clearly the deepest motivation for concluding there is no God. Its about a freedom from responsibility and, more significantly, from accountability.

The fool of this psalm is not saying there is no God. He is saying he will not be ruled and he is saying he will not be found out. Essentially, 'there is no God, therefore I can do what I like. HE (God) will not see and I will not have to pay for my actions'.

This is foolishness on many levels. Let me briefly highlight a couple.

Firstly it is foolishness because there is a God. They have not truly sought to discover the reality of God but rather arrived at a conclusion which suits their ends. The emotional equivalent of an anti-science approach they have interpreted the "facts" in a way which confirms their pre-disposition. It is foolishness in the same sense that it would be to walk into a lion enclosure because you simply can't see any lions at the entrance.
Next, it is foolish because they, the bible says, are in denial. They have effectively duped themselves.

It is a foolishness because there will be consequences to face. The bible says clearly that God will not be mocked. There will be a reckoning and all must give an account for every foolish word uttered.

It is foolishness because in their fear of being ruled they have turned their back on the one person who truly loves and accepts them for who they really are, the one who can save them. They have denied themselves the joy of living a life with divine purpose, they do not know the pleasure of Gods love seeking them out, forgiving, renewing and cleaning them constantly. They do not share in the knowledge of the one who is for them in whatever they go through. They deny themselves the comfort of knowing they are never alone.

And they are foolish because in spite of all of this, they think they are better off.

They fear the very idea of God. They miss the love and mercy that accompanies his justice and righteousness. Fear can stop you loving. If only they realised, love can stop their fears.
 

The parable of two marriages

Jesus took his disiple aside and told him this story;

'The Kingdom of heaven is like this. One man fell in love with a woman and was captivated by her beauty. She was equally besotted with him and they began a passionate relationship filled with romantic dates and weekend get aways. They found they had everything in common and could talk until the sun rose and it was as though no time had passed at all. The few points on which they differed only served as an intrigue. They concluded themselves soul-mates and, after some months, they decided they could no longer stand being apart. Being upstanding young people they decided to tie the knot. They were married and embarked on their new and exciting life together.

They found after some time that the initial passion of their first months together was not sustainable and soon enough the dates and getaways were replaced by TV dinners and trips to the garden centre. Eventually the heart to heart talks into the early hours were replaced, at times, by long and unsolvable disputes. What had happened to the woman he fell in love with? Where had she gone?, he would ask himself.

 Sometimes they would not talk at all, which was far worse than the fights. But all through the hard years the man never forgot the sweetness of those first months. He never felt the need to leave the marriage because as long as they were together it seemed to him that there was a hope of returning to those days. No matter how he may have felt like he was bashing his head against a brick wall he never gave up on the idea of getting back to what they'd had and so he finished his days with a woman he did not grow with, a woman he had idealised and locked into youthful fantasy of fulfilment. He was with her till the end but, although there remained a begrudging affection, he stopped encountering her as she grew and changed. The object of his love was always unattainable and so his passion made him miserable.

There was a second man who was looking for a wife to bring meaning and love into his life and being of a certain age and financially solvent he set about looking for Miss Right. He joined dating websites through which he met and dated many women. He enjoyed lots dates, and some of the women seemed to enjoy them too, but somehow nothing ever really came of them. There was no spark. Eventually, after a long time searching, he met a woman that he got on well with. There was not a lot of chemistry but 'perhaps chemistry is over rated' he told himself. 'Why should I not?, we seem a good match and we are both looking for partners to bring meaning into our lives!' Later his business like proposal was accepted and in due time they were married.

Once he had made the commitment he began to relax and, with the pressure of finding chemistry now out of the way, he began to discover a deep passion for his new wife. They had gotten together for good reasons, it had almost been an intellectual decision but he found that he was so grateful to have her in his life and every day began to notice new ways in which she enriched him and he sought to do the same for her with a grateful heart. He had never expected to find true love like this. As time went on their bond only deepened and he found that he was living in the hope of an ever deepening love, their cooler early months all but forgotten. They too lasted the duration and the second man found that because he lived in the moment and looked for ways to express his love that the future was always full of promise and the present illuminated by love.'

Jesus told this parable to his disciple Matthew in order that he might teach him to understand that it is not healthy to live out their relationship in the past and that he might be grateful for what he has and might allow his love to grow and not to be stilted by a hankering for past glories that stop him experiencing present realities of grace and love.

lessons in fear

  

Imagine you are in a museum and in a privileged position to have a personal tour. At a certain point, you come across a lone piece in a separate room of its own. You must pass through a thick security door which requires a key card for entrance. On entering the door is electronically sealed behind you. There is one glass case in the centre of the room, lit up from beneath and as you slowly approach you see that in it is a small sculpture that is thousands of years old. Your guide informs you that this piece belonged to an ancient Emperor and it is so fragile it must be preserved in special conditions. Its value is inestimable, both financially and academically. Then your guide pulls out some special gloves which they ask you to put on. You do so without really thinking about it. They open the case and, before you can object, delicately place it into your hands. How do you feel? Right okay, hold that thought. We will come back to it in a moment.

 

 

T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear....And Grace, my fears relieved.

 

During the Sung worship at "Life in the Spirit" leaders conference, I found myself singing these words. It's an all male conference (although this year was the last time this will be the case) and there is a real power in that sound. You can imagine you are in a Welsh all male-voice choir if you close your eyes and excuse the lack of harmonies, and this old Hymn lends itself well to that feel.

 

 

We are all so very familiar with "Grace". Its an old hymn, a blistering classic of the genre sung by many, many well known artists over the years. It lends itself to Gospel especially well and there is something extremely powerful indeed in hearing it sung by African Americans. Especially so because it was written by an British ex slave trader who was effectively an ex slave himself, as he had been pressed into a naval life. 

 

He wrote this Hymn after a powerful conversion experience. He had his eyes opened to the state of his soul before God and of the foulness of his sin. He had previously been blinded to these but now he saw. He understood Gods forgiveness and his grace. He not only repented but became a forceful part of the campaign for the abolition of slavery. Its a powerful story. And because there have been so many stories like it, those of us who too have had our eyes open to what "wretches" we have been, sing it with that extra bit of passion because his grace to us is more than a concept, its our experience and our reality.

 

But I confess although I have sung this hymn many, many times I am not sure I have ever really dwelt on this phrase before, not in any more than a cursory sense. I have always thought more about the "fears relieved" bit, truth be known.

 

It struck me this time, however, right between the eyes. It was grace that taught my heart to fear. Really? I have to think about this. Isn't God making you fearful in order to relieve your fears a little like those situations in romantic comedies when the shy "hero" sets up a false robbery so he can come to the rescue of the woman of his dreams? In those scenarios the woman usually finds out and ends up thinking even less of them. But this isn't the case with God. The fear he instills in us is a wake up call to a very real danger.

 

My son, not so long ago was headed out into the road without looking. I barked out his name in the deepest most aggressive and arresting voice that I could. Everything I put into that voice was to serve one purpose. To scare the life out of him and stop him in his tracks. It worked. He hated me for it but I may have saved his life. I was alerting him to a real danger but I scared him in order to save him, not so I could be a hero.

 

When I was at my furthest from God during some dark teenage times I was actually coming to a place, through my own rebellion, where I realised that I probably did believe in God (I'd been wrestling with it for a couple of years) but I found myself coming to the conclusion that I did not love him. My reasoning was simple. I had prayed a prayer to invite Jesus into my life and I was therefore going to heaven. Like a good "reformed"* boy I knew it was probably forever, that you cannot "lose" your salvation. I had a good understanding of grace, that it was not my goodness that got me into heaven. But that was just the problem. I saw so many of my friends (and I still do) as being much more naturally good than I was. So how could God save me and send them to hell? I was scandalised by gods grace towards me, not thankful, not grateful. I was offended by it.

 

It was during this time that I had a conversation with my Dad. I told him "I know Jesus died for me but I don't think I can love him!" I am pretty sure that my father was rocked by this, in hindsight, but he kept steady and said to me in an icy calm voice, the kind he would use when I was a kid and he needed to let me know that this was the final warning, "If you know Jesus but turn away from him it would be better for you that you had never been born!". Now I know that if you are not a christian (and perhaps if you are) this will seem a harsh thing to say to your own child. Some of you may not look favourably on him for that. But he was effectively shouting my name as I ran out into the street.

 

Those words stuck with me for days. They clung to my soul. Not just fear of eternal punishment but the significance of WHO had said them to me. It woke me up. It primed my soul. I knew deep down from that moment on that I understood the truth, that I had done so all along and had been playing games with it. That conversation was the start of the turning point in my life. It was a grace to me. Scaring people with hell fire is only an evil if there is no hell. If there is a hell then it is the most loving thing you can do. But fear is never a substitute for love. Love casts out fear.

 

The words of the hymn are more tender than that. Its not just fear of eternal consequences. It is gods grace to wake you to those but his grace also teaches us, far more importantly, to fear God. Let me take you back to the museum scenario I gave you initially. How do we feel holding this precious thing, this thing which is worth twenty times over what I will earn in a lifetime, this thing that archaeologists had devoted much of their lives to finding, this thing that could crack and break with the slightest sudden movement? When I put myself in that picture I feel fearful....but its an awestruck fear. What would happen if I dropped this thing? It is reverence. Gods grace teaches us the awe of a holy God. And gods grace itself is an awesome and fearful thing. Never to be taken lightly because it belongs, not to an Emperor, but to the King of all kings, because it too has been secured and preserved with very particular conditions, with the blood of that King and its value is inestimable because, put quite simply, you cannot buy the eternal favour of God, its something he bestows on you. Awestruck by that concept? We should be.

 

I love C S Lewis' use of a Lion to represent Jesus. You may, under certain circumstances, be able to cosy up to a lion but you are never going to forget what it is capable of. Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. Maybe today you can hear the Lions low rumbling warning growl, that says "easy now, one false move and you're for it".

 

But grace did not just teach my heart to fear it also relieved my fears. There is no questioning the love of God which drives out all fear when it cost him his Son on the cross. He says simply "There are no lengths that I will not go to, for you". What are we to do about that? It relieves your fears to know you are loved like that. Why would you fear a human enemy or an earthly calamity when the maker of the universe is for you to such an extent. I pray I never lose that reverent awe but never forget that fear I once felt, that has been relieved by grace.




*reformed refers to a theological understanding which amongst other things holds that you cannot earn your salvation with good deeds and likewise you cannot lose it with bad ones.

Helping Hands

As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset.~Exodus 17:12


The words came to me as I waited. "strengthen the arms". While myself and others were gathered around various members of a particular church ministry this Sunday morning, I waited for words from God. There were a fair few of us crowded around this particular chap and as people laid hands on him, as is often the case, I found myself, with a greatly limited amount of viable body parts on which to lay my hand. I slipped my hand between others and rested it awkwardly on the back of his upper arm. Then, as other, enthusiastic and passionate people launched into their prayers I asked God silently for some words or a picture. That was when these words came, "Strengthen the arms".

As is often the way I almost immediately started to dismiss the thought as just a feeble link between my consciousness and sub-consciousness suggested by the location of my hand. And maybe it was. But we do believe, after all, in a God who is in all, and who is working in all things. I explored the words in my mind as I half listened to the other prayers and asked the Lord to make it a bit clearer.

This man is part of our healing on the streets team. It was in this capacity that he was being prayed for in the service in question. The team go out into the streets of our little market town and set up stall, inviting people from the public to come and sit down to be prayed for. And here is the key; payer. As I thought more about it I remembered that this brother is involved in just about every type of prayer ministry going in the church. He prays for people in the prayer room after our services, he attends most of the prayer meetings, is always heavily involved in weeks of prayer and fasting and he personally leads a team of people who prayer-walk the streets of our town and surrounding villages.

I toyed with the idea of simply praying that he would receive strength for all the work he does but as I waited my turn, independently the image of Moses holding up the staff of God (while Joshua battled the Amalekites) came into my mind. I knew this man was a Moses type, a prayer warrior. It occurred to me that he, in his prayers, was like Moses holding up the staff. While he does so we, just as Joshua on the ground was, are winning the battle.

God has been speaking a lot to me about two intricately linked (and seemingly opposed) aspects of our spiritual service. One is our Value as part of a team the other is our value as individuals. I seriously doubt here that I will add anything new to this well trodden pathway but I want to encourage us a little.

1. I am an individual.

In the story there are at least four roles being discussed. We have Joshua leading the fight against the Amalekites. We have Joshua's troops in the thick of the fighting, dying and killing in the midst of the fray. We have Moses on the hill top holding up the staff. Latterly we have Aaron and Hur holding up Moses hands as he holds the staff aloft. It doesn't take a genius to be able to see that in order for this to work we need all the elements to be present. If the army is all Moses or all Joshua, it isn't going to work. If we are all supportives, like Aaron and Hur (but there is no Moses) there is no cutting edge, the effectiveness is lost. You get the picture. It may seem here that I am emphasising teamwork over individualism but that is not so. I merely point out that there are different roles in order to show you that who you are is extremely important. We all need to find our place to serve, our sweet spot. Yes we are asked to do things at times that we are not as comfortable with, to step into the gap and cover for each other but never think that that is all we are to do. God made you YOU for a reason. Knowing where we are most effective is a vital key in ensuring that we are as well placed as possible to serve the kingdom as effectively. No Aaron should be trying to be a Joshua, thinking that Joshua's role is the one with the most honor. That would be a disaster when battle came. Likewise Joshua would be partially wasted only standing up on the hill top while timid Moses leads the troops into combat.

I do not think it an overstatement to say it is vital, absolutely vital, to discover who you are and invest in investigating what bit is that "Tiggers do best" in your own case. Don't be afraid to try and fail at some things along the way. Elimination is a vital part of our walk and with Godly wisdom and grace it can be just as valuable as a prophetic word. Who are you in him? There's a question worthy of exploration. You are Gods valued possession and his gift to the church. Never underestimate your part.

2. We are all individuals (working together as a team)

Just as it is vital to know who you are it is vital to know where your place is and how to work harmoniously with others within that sphere of service.This is all tying in with my personal journey right now because I have recently been liberated by finding that there are some things I have been trying to do that are not part of my gifting or my calling. In some ways, by pursuing these I may have even drained valuable resources away from better uses. Once you know who you are you can step back when you need to and allow others to flourish in what they are called to do. Conversely you can step forward into the breech when you see there is something that you know you can do that is not being done.

In the story each are playing their part and yet working together. Today I had another picture as we were praying for our new youth worker. These pictures seem to grow as I explore them. This one started with a sense of a meeting of roads. Peoples journeys coming together. I felt that at this junction in our churches history we were all meeting at the same place and bringing different experiences and talents together for one purpose. Then the picture transformed into rivers converging, tributaries and smaller rivers meeting and forming a larger more powerful river, one that will go out into our community and bring life in the wastelands, refreshment and healing though what it causes to live.

This team picture is important to me because the worker who we were welcoming today will in some ways be taking over (or at least adding to) some of the roles and responsibilities that I have hither to held. And so it is important to understand that there are no egos here but only one purpose and heart; To glorify God and to make his love known. And the river picture helps me (and I hope it helps you) because it is as we flow together that what we do becomes more powerful, more vital, more effective. In working and walking together we do not LOSE our identity but rather, if we walk in love and reverence of one another and of Christ, we FIND our identity and we find, in our church family, those who are prepared to hold up our arms when we get weary and so we win the war and share the victory the Lord has bought us.

And so I concluded that God wanted to bring people in to "strengthen the arms" of this prayer warrior that I was praying for. He is an amazing man and I honor him and I believe God honours him (and wants us all to) as a man who knows who he is and where he should be serving, as part of the body. But also the word that God bought to me does not absolve me of any responsibility of looking at how I may be a part of this arm strengthening. Quite apart from bringing the word I must look at how best to support this brother who supports us all. This is part of our flowing together. One in mind, heart, purpose and direction. One body, one people, one church, one love and one Lord. To him alone be the glory, forever.