What's your current project?

Someone once remarked that I always had a ‘project’ on the go.  And it’s true: for as long as I can remember, I have had one passion after another, to research this, study that or record the other.  About the time that I first started driving for a living, I also explored the possibility of teaching history at an adult education centre, and spent some months delving into and preparing a course on the Jacobite movement, and the Scottish risings of 1715 and 1745.  This all came to naught when the course was offered and not a single person expressed interest!  A few years later, I discovered that I could listen to RTÉ on the radio in my van, and this led to several months of great interest in what was going on in Ireland, and I followed in some detail the campaigns that led up to their General Election in May 2007.

I find that, when the intense enthusiasm wanes, a residual interest remains.  So I still listen to RTÉ from time to time, and I probably take more than average notice whenever conversation turns to the events of early eighteenth century Scotland.  I have also found that former interests can be rekindled, after lying dormant for some time.  In my teens I had traced, with all the resources then available in my local library, the growth of the United States as its legislative boundaries were pushed further and further west.  This interest was revived recently as I reacted to a remark by a young friend on facebook, and I recall how, during the 2008 Presidential Election campaign, I found – now aided by the internet – that I came to it with much more understanding than forty years ago.

I suggest that there is a parallel between all this personal history and our general response to faith.  In some Bible studies, for example, we are invited to focus on a particular character in Scripture, and follow his or her life, achievements or teaching.  If our church doesn’t organise group studies, this is something we can do for ourselves, using the concordance, footnotes and cross-references in our Bibles, or a study booklet from a Christian bookshop.  When, perhaps years later, a Scripture reading mentions someone whom we’ve studied in depth like this, we can think, if not say, “Oh yes, I know him!”  If opportunity allows, we can then initiate a detailed conversation on the subject, and encourage others to share what we may have found out some while ago.

And, of course, the prime candidate for such study in depth is our Lord and Saviour, Jesus himself.  There is probably more material on Him than on all the other characters of the Bible put together, and it would be easy to become distracted.  The best way might be to select a particular aspect of His life and teaching, such as His miracles, parables or references to money, etc.  The important thing is that, as a result, we come to know Him better.

It’s a sad facet of daily life today that the Name of Jesus is frequently used as a term of emphasis, with no more reverence than the oaths and obscenities that comprise its alternatives.  I regularly challenge myself – though so far without success – to say on these occasions, “I know Him,” and ask what the Saviour of the world has to do with the topic under discussion, or to remind my fellows what that Name can really mean for them.

But ... not what we thought!

A fellow-driver and I like to attack the newspaper crossword while waiting for a job.  The other day this clue had both of us perplexed. “Contrast container, we hear, though not with tea? (3)”.  Eventually, having determined that the first letter was ‘B’, we settled for ‘BOX’, but with no real confidence that this properly matched the clue, and this was one puzzle that never got finished.  The next day, we looked at the solution, and found that the answer to this clue was ‘BUT’.  We had thought of a variety of containers, totally ignored the idea of a contrast, and certainly never considered such an insignificant little word like this.

It was about this time that my attention was drawn to a verse in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, “But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the first-fruits of those who have fallen asleep. (I Cor. 15:20)”  Paul had been discussing the fundamental point of the faith he had been teaching, that Jesus died for our sins, that he had been buried, and was raised on the third day (vv. 3-4).  The purpose of his providing this summary was to counter doubts that had apparently spread in the Corinthian church that anyone – not even Jesus – could really rise from death as Paul had claimed.  We must remember that Corinth was a thriving port, and as such it embraced a wide range of nationalities and cultures.  It wasn’t surprising, then, that suspicions like this might be expressed in the community, and need to be refuted.

To this end, Paul lists many people, in addition to himself, to whom the risen Jesus had appeared: Cephas (i.e. Peter), the twelve, James, the other apostles, and over five hundred other witnesses, many of whom were still alive, and could be called on for verification if required (vv. 5-8).  He then explores the significance of the denial against which he is arguing.  Not only would it mean that he, Paul, had been peddling a tissue of lies; it would also invalidate the fundamental claim of the Christian faith – then and now – that, through the death and resurrection of Jesus, man’s sins have been forgiven.

Having painted this picture of supposed hopelessness, Paul then re-affirms the great truth, the great contrast to this black and unimaginable alternative, that Christ has been raised from the dead, a truth preached not only by him, but also by Peter, “he gave us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead (I Peter 1:3)”, and written about by John, “the one who loves us and has set us free from our sins at the cost of his own blood (Rev. 1:5)”.

I hadn’t intended that this little anecdote of two drivers and their crossword should turn into a Bible study or a sermon, so let me close by simply stating what I see as the moral of the tale.  Never ignore what is apparently insignificant.  For surely, the key to Paul’s argument in I Corinthians 15 is the same as the answer to that crossword clue ... the tiny three-letter word that begins verse 20!

Remember, remember ...

... the fifth of November; gunpowder treason and plot!”  I didn’t realise until quite recently that, until about 150 years ago, it was actual obligatory to celebrate Guy Fawkes’ Day.  Under an act of Parliament, 5th November in each year was appointed as a day of thanksgiving for ‘the joyful day of deliverance’. The Act remained in force until 1859.  The other day, whilst walking along with my mind in idle, thoughts drifted from the beauty of the leaves on the trees, to the tidying away of fallen leaves, to other things that are characteristic of Autumn, to seasonal celebrations.

I recalled the time not too long past when children would gather the fallen leaves in barrows and pile them on a communal bonfire, along with all kinds of unwanted furniture, wooden pallets and the like, ready for a spectacular celebration with fireworks, burgers – the whole works!  They also used the barrows to parade their guys in the streets and ask for pennies.  Of course, pennies wouldn’t go very far today, and anyway, children seem to have other things to do with their time now.

Another seasonal occasion happens only days after bonfire night, when remembrance takes on a different hue, and many families will call to mind with varying degrees of sadness those relatives who served, and perhaps died, in war, particularly in the two World Wars of the last century.  I don’t know whether you will be watching the Service of Remembrance on TV, but if you do, you may notice a similarity between the falling poppy petals and the autumn leaves falling from the trees.

Trees and leaves have a significant place in our scriptures, beginning with the fig-leaves that Adam and Eve sewed together when they realised their nakedness (Gen. 3:7).   Other references range from the story of the plant that sheltered the unforgiving Jonah (Jonah 4:6) to the sycamore tree into which Zacchaeus climbed in order to see Jesus (Luke 19:4); from leaves that are an indicator of summer (Luke 21:30) to the leaves of the tree of life, which are for the healing of the nations (Rev. 22:2).  In all these, it is interesting to note that the point of the story is their usefulness to man, rather than their original purpose on the tree.  Sometimes they are useful while still growing: in other cases they fulfil that need once they have left or are taken from the tree.

Maybe this month you will be walking through the woods with a toddler, and find amusement as he delights in kicking his way through the fallen leaves.  Wherever we encounter falling leaves, and note their decaying mess on the pavements – which sometimes reflects a degree of mess in our lives – perhaps it is useful to consider the words of Henry Francis Lyte in his memorable hymn, “Change and decay in all around I see, but Thou who changest not, O Lord, abide with me!”

Parallel Lines

I was thinking the other day about the growth of our countryside.  The older roads – often based on routes set out by the Romans or even the Ancient Britons – lead directly from one town to the next, deviating for only the most significant obstructions.  On the other hand, the modern motorways and by-passes provide quicker but longer routes that avoid the narrow streets of our town centres.  I recalled my early days of driving for a living, when I’d never driven into London before.  With only the map to rely on, I quickly discovered the limitations of coming to the capital late in life, not instinctively aware of the easier alternatives to the A1 or A5.  Although these are the original, direct routes, they are much slower and often congested.

“AB and CD are two parallel lines,” said my maths text book at school.  I soon learned the key property about parallel lines: they stay a constant distance apart.  If you follow the line AB you will get to point ‘B’, but by following CD, you will only get to point ‘D’.  You’ll be in roughly the same area, but definitely not at the same place.  In the same way, the motorway will take you to the region of your target address, but eventually you will have to turn off it, onto those small local roads, to make the final approach.

I decided that looking forward to Christmas is dangerously similar to this business of using a by-pass.  The secular festival that many people are planning for – I like to call it ‘Xmas’ for distinction – features many appropriate elements.  It focuses on children; it includes many aspects of love and caring: giving presents, for example, or supporting seasonal events for the homeless to make sure they get a festive dinner.  There are parties and expressions of familiarity or behaviour that are not seen at other times, such as the giving of Christmas boxes to trades-people, or the boy-king traditions that are still observed in some of our towns.

As if following the wrong parallel line, the route to this secular festival includes a variety of characteristic phenomena that bear no direct relevance to the intended destination, just like the flyovers and service stations on the motorway.  I’m thinking of the robins, stagecoaches in snow and crinoline ladies that adorn our festive cards; the trees with their candles and baubles, and the holly and paper chains, without which our celebrations just don’t seem complete.

Whether we compare them to parallel lines or to motorways, the route past these landmarks gets us to the right area, but not to the final destination.  A sideways step is essential to make that last link, to take us from Xmas to Christmas.  Our spiritual roadmap, the Bible, has the answer.  We are told that the Father would send the Holy Spirit to teach us, and help us to remember Jesus’ teaching (John 14:26).  The Holy Spirit is sometimes called the Paraclete, a Greek name meaning ‘one who draws alongside.’  I once heard of a port so full of fishing boats alongside each other that people could walk dry-shod from one shore to the other across their decks.  The Holy Spirit draws alongside us like that, so that, through Him, we can easily make our way from the Xmas that the world preaches and discover the real gift of Christmas – Immanuel: God with us.

Preparation

Scarcely a day passes, it seems, without the newsreader telling us about someone preparing to do something.  “The Chancellor is preparing to deliver his budget this afternoon”; “the minister is preparing to return home after the conference”; “Andrew Strauss is preparing to lead the English cricket team in their campaign to retain the Ashes” and so on. 

I wonder at all this preparation: just what does it entail?  Is the Chancellor still wielding his pen and calculator, or putting on a clean shirt and brushing his suit?  Is the minister pushing those last items into his suitcase, checking he has his airline ticket to hand?  Is Andrew Strauss encouraging his team mates, pressing his flannels, or oiling his bat?  (And beneath it all, I ask, is all this preparation really news?)

When it comes to being prepared, perhaps one of the most familiar examples known to us – Boy Scouts apart – is the famous aria from Messiah, “O Prepare ye the Way of the Lord.”  Maybe you will hear this – or even sing it – during the Christmas season.  It is appropriate as we commemorate the birth of Christ, and the coming of a new Age, but no less in a few weeks, as we march out into a new year.

Handel borrowed many of the words for Messiah from the Bible; this phrase is to be found in Isaiah 40:3.  In his prophecy, Isaiah was encouraging the Israelites to make themselves ready for God’s coming among them.  This verse refers specifically to the making of a road; one modern translation, NET Bible^(R), renders it, “In the wilderness clear a way for the LORD; construct in the desert a road for our God.”

Now, my trusty dictionary tells me that ‘prepare’ comes from ‘pre’ (before) and ‘parare’ (make ready), so to prepare is to make ready before something happens.  I also found that ‘parare’ is the root from which we get our word ‘pare’, meaning to trim, shave or cut off.  So I’d like to link these two and suggest that to prepare means to trim off the rough bits, or to cut away that which is not wanted, in readiness for what follows.

I’m sure many of us will be making tasty stews and soups this winter, and many more will enjoy eating them.  As you do so, remember what had to be done to the vegetables when that stew was made.  Before they could give out that beautiful flavour, they had to be prepared.  The rough bits had to be removed, the unwanted parts cut away.  In the same way, if we are to be of greatest use to our Lord in this new year, we must remove all the unwanted bits of our lives.  We must cut away anything that stops our lives being a sweet savour to God, in the way of the offerings of the Israelites, as described in great detail at the start of Leviticus.

Keep it to Yourself

In the last few weeks, my Bible reading seems to have led me regularly past Jesus’ healing miracles.  Often the conclusion of these episodes sees Jesus imploring the one who has been healed not to tell anyone about this (e.g. Mt 9:30; Mt 12:16; Lk 5:14, Lk 8:56.)  I have often wondered why Jesus adopted this position.  After all, didn’t He come to earth to make known the Kingdom of His Father?  Surely, as the modern advertising agent says, “Any publicity is good publicity!” 

Some theologians and commentators suggest that the time wasn’t right, or that to become known in that place didn’t fit in with Jesus’ plan for His ministry.  I have come to the conclusion that it’s linked to Jesus’ experiences in the wilderness, where he was tempted by the Devil.  The three temptations described by Matthew and Luke involve His bodily needs, the possession of ultimate power, and His personal renown.  I think Jesus tried to steer away from fame as a healer just as he refused to jump from the Temple roof.  It wasn’t His aim simply to become a supernatural celebrity.

It was against the background of these thoughts, then, that I watched a woman on the train either taking something from, or putting something into her handbag.  It was the bag itself that fascinated me.  It was long and black with a zip at each end, but these zips didn’t meet in the middle.  Instead, there was a simple stud holding the two sides together at the centre.  Thus the whole bag was divided – either notionally or by partitions – into three sections.  At the ends the contents were comparatively secure, while in the centre would be those items more frequently required.

I considered what contents might be in the bag: an address book, perhaps, or a purse; maybe a jewel case; almost certainly make-up.  And of course, the ubiquitous mobile phone and mp3 player, which would definitely be centre-stage for constant access while travelling.  In the blinkered surroundings of the underground train, my mind wandered further.  I thought how clever this design was, for not all things are of equal importance, and some possessions demand greater protection than others.  When St Paul wrote about the body, he described how “the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty” (I Cor. 12:23).

This is true of life itself.  Some aspects of our lives and thoughts can be freely discussed; opinions shared, and so on.  Others are more personal, and we would only mention them to our closest friends.  Yet others are supremely confidential, and are only shared with one other person, if at all.  The same considerations apply to the way we either cover or reveal our bodies.

 Although he was writing about corporate bodies, I’m sure Paul wouldn’t compare these principles to aspects of a physical body if it weren’t sound teaching.  It does seem that some sections of today’s society are incapable of distinguishing what bits of life ought to be in which part of that excellently-designed handbag: what can be freely made public, and what should remain ‘behind closed doors’.  Perhaps the answer is to reflect on our motives, and consider the example of our Lord: if the aim is simply to enhance our own celebrity, then maybe we should think again.

Not so Bellowing

In contrast to the obvious housekeeping disadvantages and occasional loneliness, living and working a solo life does have its positive side. One of the things I enjoy every morning is the unbridled opportunity to read the Bible aloud to myself at some length. Now, this isn’t to claim for myself any outstanding spiritual quality. I simply made a New Year Resolution to follow a daily scheme of reading through the whole Bible in the course of a year. It’s a good discipline in any event, and being able to read it aloud somehow makes it more special.

Occasionally, through the accumulated exhaustion of long days, I find that the concentration of reading three or four chapters non-stop leaves me quite drained. In such a state the other morning, it occurred to me just how refreshing was the silence. Instead of following up fairly promptly in prayer, I simply sat in my favourite armchair, eyes closed, and let God’s presence flow over me.

I was reminded of Jesus’ words of warning recorded for us at Matthew 6:7-8, “they think that by their many words they will be heard. Do not be like them.” How easy it is for us in our prayers to be the originators, babbling away, bombarding God with our own thoughts. How often do we forget that prayer, like any other conversation, is two-way, and that it is at least as important to listen – possibly more so?

One of the happiest experiences of my late teenage and early adult life was singing in the local church choir. Mike, our organist and choirmaster – RSCM trained – knew how to get the best out of us. We were intensely schooled every week, men as well as boys, and we soon realised the significance of the closed fingertips, the raised palm and the lowering of that hand the other way up. These signs brought from us what he called ‘the colour’ of the piece, and made our contribution to the worship all the more effective.

A favourite hymn was ‘Dear Lord and Father of mankind,’ which comprises just the final verses of an epic poem by John Greenleaf Whittier, set to Charles Parry’s beautiful tune Repton. This tune is normally not set for four-part singing, and so that concept of colour was essential to bring out the finer points of the hymn, and prevent it sinking to the level of a blousy folksong. We were especially so encouraged for its last two lines, which echo Elijah’s experience described in I Kings 19, beseeching the Lord to “speak through the earthquake, wind and fire, O still, small voice of calm.” I shall never forget the way the bellowing basses would gracefully give way to the gentle tenors for those last five words!

When Lent comes round every springtime, it's an opportunity to make a special effort to focus more particularly on the Bible - to listen anew to that still, small voice.

Signs

It rather stuck in my mind.  As I was waiting to collect some goods for delivery one day earlier this year, drinking in the unusual warmth in the air, and thinking spring might actually be on its way, I spotted a sign on a unit across the industrial estate.  “A business with no sign is a sign of no business!”  It was crisp, neat and concisely explained the nature of their product.

Slogans are catchy, occasionally amusing and, above all, they do have this habit of sticking in the mind.  I’m sure many of us can recall advertising slogans that were on TV decades ago – perhaps even selling products that are no longer in existence!  They make use of one key characteristic of the article – something it does, some need that it alone can fulfil.

At a personal level, most of us have particular sayings that we habitually use.  Who of a certain age can forget the detective who said, in almost every episode, “By Timothy!”?  He was too much of a gentleman to swear with any stronger oath.  Or maybe you remember Jo March in Louisa Alcott’s ‘Little Women’, who would exclaim, “Christopher Columbus!”  Fiction apart, our customary sayings, like advertising slogans, can reveal much about us: what we think, what we believe, the way we conduct our lives.  Recently, a key member of the Family History Society to which I belong, died.  In a tribute to her in the magazine, reference was made to Jean’s frequent habit of calling her friends and colleagues back to the matter in hand with the words, “Right, let’s get on with it; work to do.”

Signs, sayings and catch phrases are all around us; and our faith provides us with signs, too.  The Easter story provides us with a special symbol, probably the sign that, in one form or another, appears most often across the whole world: the Cross.  I once had a little bronze medallion, shaped like a Zulu shield: a sort of narrow diamond with the side corners rounded off.  It once belonged to my father (though where he got it from I have no idea!)  Sadly I lost it many years ago, but I remember it fondly, and its design and inscription remain in my memory. Around the edge was a scroll with the words, “In hoc signo vinces”, and in the middle of these was a big, plain cross.  This sign is echoed by the cross I presently wear every day.  I recently found out the meaning of those words, and perhaps they can be taken as an Easter message of hope for us all, “In this sign you will conquer!”

All Change

A few shopping trips ago, as I received my change, I flipped back in my mind to my teenage years, when I had a Saturday job in a grocer’s shop. I recalled the men who ran the shop – men born soon after the First World War – as they gave change to their customers. Their timeless ‘script’ was virtually automatic, as they counted the change into the customer’s palm, “three-and-fourpence; five, six, four ... five, seven-and-six, ten ... and ten is a pound.” I contrasted this to what was being said to me: “Ten, fifteen, sixteen pounds ... fifty, sixty, -two.” Instead of counting from where we are, the amount spent, up to the amount tendered, the shop assistant of today counts from nowhere, up to an amount dictated by the till.

The former practice began with a sum with which the customer was already familiar, and the counting proved the accuracy not only of the payment of the change, but of the amount of change itself. The modern equivalent achieves less, and seems more distant. It begins with the allegation that the amount of change is what the machine has determined, and the counting of the cash into my hand serves only to prove that that amount has been paid. Sometimes the delivery of this is limited to “Your receipt, sir ... and here’s your change <dump>”, implying that there is no way that the till could have been wrong, nor the cashier in preparing the heap of coins now in your hand, perched precariously on the slip of paper produced by the electronic monster that has already swallowed up your twenty-pound note.

It’s my contention that these technological advances represent a retrograde step in customer relations. Let me offer a Biblical parallel to this comparison. The ‘Old Covenant’ was based on commandments written on tablets of stone (Exodus ch. 31&34; Deut. ch. 5&9). Time after time in the succeeding centuries, Israel rebelled against keeping their part of this Covenant. They refused to make God’s commandments – which started from God and were passed on to them by Moses – the only rule of their lives. The ‘New Covenant’, promised through Jeremiah’s prophecy (Jer. 31:31-34), was not based on the letter of a law (2Cor. 3:6), but on the Holy Spirit, which is within each one of us. It is a Covenant sealed by the blood of Jesus, blood that was evidence of a human life just like the lives that you and I lead here on earth. In other words, the New Covenant is more significant to us because it starts where we are, and draws us to God.

So, how effective are we in telling other people about our faith? Do we try an Old Covenant approach, like the modern supermarket cashier, explaining how things ought to be and asking (or even telling) them to conform? Or can we begin with a tolerant understanding, like my erstwhile grocer friends, starting where they are and pointing out to them how God’s love applies to their situation? Why not think of this when you’re doing your Christmas shopping, or when making New Year Resolutions?