Just what is it about Christmas?

"I don't bother with Christmas these days - it's just for the children, after all, isn't it?" - how often have you heard that?  Countless times, I'll warrant.  And is it true? (I'll come back to that question later.)  What do people mean when they ask it, though?  I suggest that they're really saying that all the razzamataz of the 'High Street Christmas" is what they are rejecting: the special food, that only comes out once a year, like dates, nuts, crystalized fruits, the little bacon/sausage bundles and plum pudding; and the toys that seem to grow more intricate and more expensive with each year that passes, and with an equal and opposite progression in their reliability, too.  And they stop giving Christmas cards, too, because it costs far more now to post them - even second class - than the cost of the card.

So, "I don't bother with Christmas these days."  And what about that other claim, "it's just for the children, isn't it?"  Well, yes, certainly some aspects, the toys, and some of the carols too, are aimed at children.  I for one can't precisely remember when I last unpacked a Christmas present and discovered a toy.  And as one's own children grow up, one's interest in child-focussed celebrations wanes.  Then along come the grandchildren, whose lifestyle is far from one's own.  Now, you might think that they bring with them a replenishment of the 'children' aspect of Christmas, but by the time we are grandparents, time has moved on, and what we enjoyed with our own children is no longer fashionable, or even, perhaps, available.  To a certain extent the grandchildren, dear souls though they are, are a distinct intrusion into the quieter lifestyle that has become our own.

Christmas, then, is better without the children, for whom we once thought it was intended.  What are we to do with it?  Can we ignore it, totally?  No, of course not.  For one thing the culture of the whole nation is geared not only to having Christmas and Boxing Days off work, but also as much of the ensuing fortnight as the chiefs of industry and commerce will allow.  We're not at work, but we're not bothering with Christmas, so shall we go off somewhere for a holiday?  Anywhere close and affordable (if there is anywhere like that in a recession) isn't exactly having holiday weather, so unless we spend an absolute fortune (that we haven't got) that's not on the cards either.

One more thing that we can't do is to roll back the years, to the great times we had in our own childhood - to the times when Christmas really was for the children - or so we thought.  Someone asked me the other day to think back to one of the greatest parties I could remember; after just a little thought, my mind went back to when I was about five, to a Christmas spent around my grandparents' table, in a cottage festooned with paper streamers, and great paper bells hanging from the beams.  The company consisted of my parents and me, my grandparents, and their only other surviving child, along with her husband and daughter: a nice even gathering of eight, who played games in twos or fours, opened presents seemingly without number, and ate the food that the three family units had undoubtedly clubbed together to provide.  The men smoked their pipes without restriction, and the ladies sipped the port or sherry that was reserved for this occasion, and we children were blissfully unaware whether or not we got under everybody's feet, or were a nuisance, because in the spirit of the day we wouldn't have been told off, even if we had been.

Was this what Christmas was all about?  If so, then there's little wonder that we 'don't bother with Christmas these days.'  Times have changed, but our idea of Christmas hasn't.  It's stuck in the past. 

What of the 'real' Christmas, though?  I listened tonight to some carols.  Most of them were old favourites, many dating from the Victorian era, but not all by far.  As the familiar words of each one told its particular aspect of the tale - the couple looking for somewhere to stay because the town was crowded on account of the census; the angels appearing with their good news for the shepherds; the great trek performed by the wise men with their precious gifts; and the great significance of this baby born in the humble surroundings of a stable - the words echoed in my mind and heart, not taking me back to my childhood, or to later times when I might have sung them in a choir, but back centuries beyond any personal recollection to the one time in the history of the world when God Himself appeared on earth in human form, with the express purpose of rescuing mankind from the mess that he had made of his world ... and continues so to do.

In the third line of this article I asked 'and is it true?' and said I'd come back to that question.  As it appeared, it referred to the matter of Christmas being for the children, but that wasn't exactly what I meant, hence coming back to it now.  When I hear that question, 'and is it true?' I'm reminded of a poem I first heard about thirty years ago (although it is at least twice as old) by John Betjeman:

"And is it true? and is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me?

And is it true? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine."

These are the last three, and to my mind the most poignant, of eight. If you have time this Christmas day, read all eight here.  Like my response to 'your greatest party', they take one's mind back to the familiar Christmasses of yesteryear, but also explain, as I've tried to indicate here, that there is a greater significance to Christmas than anything we can buy, send, imagine, conjour up or cobble together.  There is a 'real' meaning to it that will outlast anyone and everyone's memory - the eternal truth of Immanuel - God with us.

I wish a truly Blessed Christmas to all my readers.

Begotten, not Created

I can picture the woman now: I think she was a character in a TV play many years ago. She said, in a cockney accent, "Don't ought to be allowed, all that begettin'; 'tain't natch'ral." She was referring to the opening verses of St. Matthew's gospel. Although, of course, it is natural, the most natural thing in the world, until recent years the whole question of procreation was taboo in polite society. You just didn’t talk about such things, so why should they appear as a long list at the very start of the New Testament?

In common with many others, over the last decade or so I've been tracing my family history. In so doing, I have realised one possible reason for these Biblical genealogies. In the course of my researches I have made contact with a number of cousins, many of whom, in addition to being distantly related to me, are distantly related to each other, and also live thousands of miles apart. What is it that links us all?

All of my findings are faithfully recorded in a computer program, a database which holds the key dates and relationships of almost 3,000 individuals, some stretching back several centuries. Many times I've tried to show on one sheet of paper the linkage, over six or seven generations, between my distant cousins and myself: to see, if you like, how we all hang together. I soon discovered that it needed to be a very large piece of paper if all the names and dates were to be read.

This effort was in response to a desire to bring these names to life. Although in one sense the people named were quite real, having sent me an e-mail or Christmas card, yet in a strange way they were no more than business contacts, or fellow townspeople. Until I had spanned the generations and seen those links, they didn’t have that special feel: that they belonged to me; that they were part of my family.

I suspect that Matthew, as he wrote his Gospel for Jewish readers, felt a similar need to explain that Jesus was not just a character in another historic epic.  He needed to demonstrate Jesus’ roots as one from the family of Israel, part of their own history and tradition, as well as being divinely conceived to be the means of God;s redemptive plan.

Just as my cousins are special to me, so Jesus is special to us all, as individuals, and we to Him.  In his letter to the Galatians, Paul says that we are all children of God; heirs with (and so spiritual brothers of) Christ (Gal. 3:26-29.)  While I have to resort to e-mails and letters to communicate with my faraway cousins, we can all be assured of Jesus’ presence with us – not just at Christmas time, but always – in the form of the Holy Spirit that He has placed in our hearts.

Heaven Alongside

The Girton Interchange at the top of the M11 is a junction the like of which I’ve seen nowhere else in ten years of professional driving.  While two lanes of northbound traffic pass unhindered, scarcely noticing the change from M11 to A14, just feet away on the other side of the barrier an exciting transition is happening, at speeds of up to 60 mph.  Motorway traffic slowing down to turn east changes place with westbound A14 traffic accelerating to follow their route north.  It sounds quite dangerous, but all the drivers seem to realise that in those few hundred yards every vehicle will be swapping sides, and it all seems to work out quite smoothly.

If you are wondering what this has to do with Christmas and the Incarnation, I invite you to check out the relevant verses, which are these:  Luke 2:9, John 1:5, John 3:4 and Acts 1:9-11.

When the A14 route was created, it involved very little new construction, and in large part consisted of re-numbering and upgrading existing roads.  This junction involves negotiating a complex manoeuvre simply to stay on the same route, and drivers using it for the first time are a little cautious, wondering just where all the traffic around them is going. 

So imagine poor country folk, doing what they’ve done every winter night for centuries: looking after their animals on the hillside.  All of a sudden they are surrounded by shining lights, heavenly voices and the sweetest music they’ve heard in their lives.  Little wonder that they were terrified.  At the start of John’s Gospel, the evangelist gives an overview of Jesus’ mission on earth.  It is characteristic of virtually all of the Gospel story that His teaching seemed completely opposite to the accepted ways of the world.  His sayings were often confusing to those who heard them; the comment by Nicodemus is only one example of many.

Some 17 miles after Girton, the A14 road approaches Huntingdon, and by now drivers have got used to the volume of traffic, which includes many heavy lorries and is often as great as on a three-lane motorway.  No one knows which of the adjacent vehicles is heading for the midlands and which for the north, until a junction turns the A14 traffic off to the west again, leaving the remainder to join the A1(M).  It’s something of a surprise if you’re not expecting it.

After three years, and the upheaval that the death - and then the resurrection - of their supernatural friend had inflicted on what had become a new way of life, the disciples must have been absolutely flabberghasted when, in the middle of talking with them about the coming Spirit ... suddenly he was with them no longer, but instead two men in white, explaining that he’d been taken up into heaven!

 

And one day He’ll return – let us renew our resolve this advent to be ready, whenever that may be.

Strike a Light

One of the many familiar symbols of Christmas that are not exclusively Christian is the lighted candle.  Alongside the snow scenes, the crinolined ladies, the robins and the santas, it adorns many of the cards that will shortly be dropping through our letterbox.  Maybe you've already bought the ones you'll be sending, and many of them will have candles in their design.  What can the lowly candle tell us?

 

There used to be an expression, a euphemism for the act of dying, that is less common nowadays: ‘snuffing it’.  This was indeed a very accurate term, for as the body dies, it's as if the light of human life is being ‘snuffed out’, like the flame of a candle.  So the candle flame represents life.

 

The flame itself is in two parts.  Outside is the part we see, the bright light that illuminates the space around it; in the centre is the dark part where the action takes place.  This is the hottest part, and melts the wax of the candle, turning it into a vapour ready to be burned.  As it burns, the vapour gives us the light we value so much.  Our analogy continues, for life is like that, isn't it?  It has a controlled inner part, known only to ourselves, and a bright outer part that is seen by everyone, and able to affect others.

 

Effort is required to convert the fuel available – whether it’s food for our bodies or knowledge for our intellect – into a form that can nourish us.  If we don’t do this, then life will be very limited, in terms of either time or intensity, or both.  But lives that are nourished in this way provide rich rewards.  According to the King James Version of our Bibles, Jesus referred to a candle in just this way (Matthew 5:15-16).  A life that is constantly fed with physical or spiritual nourishment, or both, is a source of strength, enlightenment and enrichment to others around it.

 

I'm sure Christmas won't pass without your seeing a candle somewhere, whether on a card, in a picture, or in real life: perhaps in church.  If you light a candle this Christmas, take a moment to study it closely, and reflect just how closely it mirrors the truths of life itself, a life that was shared for just a short time by God's own Son.

The Parable at the Chemist's

Life can be tiresome at times, not least when you're in a hurry.  You’ve probably suffered the same frustration that I experienced recently when I tried to buy some cough medicine.  The assistant was about to take my money when she suddenly realised,  “I’m sorry – I can’t sell this to you at the moment – the pharmacist’s just popped out.”

 

Sometimes in church - or in other places, too, I suppose - we use an expression of completeness, 'body, mind and spirit.'  It may seem perverse, therefore, to break this down into its constituent parts.  As I waited for the return of the medical professional whose absence was holding me up, I had the chance to reflect on the strange quirk of the Medicines Act that requires not that the pharmacist should make the sale (body), nor even that he should see the sale take place (mind), but simply that he should be on the premises at the time (spirit).

 

I decided that the powers that the Act confers on the pharmacist can teach us something about sin.  Just as the authority of the pharmacist pervades his whole emporium, so sin influences all of our being.  There are, of course, those obvious sins that we commit with our own bodies, which we can compare to the idea of the pharmacist selling the product over the counter himself.  But how often do we consider as our own sins those times when we see someone else doing wrong and take no action to prevent or report it - comparable to the proprietorial oversight of the sale taking place?  And which of us can claim that we’ve never been present in a building, or been part of an organisation, or a citizen of a country where sin takes place somewhere, even if we don't actually see it?

 

Now, we are told that the sinner who repents is assured of being forgiven (e.g. in James 5:15), and we are taught that true repentance involves a change of habit or lifestyle.  But here's a greater challenge.  Is there some way in which we can contribute to repentance at a higher level – perhaps by boldly offering a choice word at the right time (Matthew 10:19-20)?

Who Moved?

In the course of my family history research I’ve followed one line after another through the years of the Great War, imagining young men who, in their thousands, forsook horse and plough at the call of the recruiting office; young men whose loyalty was stirred and enthusiasm aroused, only to be so quickly and completely overturned by the mess, the destruction and the sheer horror of the Western Front.  It was so terrible that, right into old age and sometimes to the point of death, many would not talk of their experiences.  For those involved, whether in battle or at home, it was a time of immense and irreversible change.  Life was never the same again: it was indeed a Great event.

It’s easy to say that the war was started by the assassination of the Austrian heir, the archduke Franz Ferdinand.  But there was already widespread discontent across Europe, from Ulster to the Balkans, results of class difference, oppression, nationalism, and so on.  Alongside this were rivalries over the ‘new lands’ of Africa, over-ripe for colonial exploitation.   Once the spark had been kindled, war was inevitable.

A recent radio programme touched on the problems encountered by western armies who find themselves operational in the Moslem world.  The presenter spoke of a failure to appreciate the extent to which politics are [still] inseparable from religion in those lands, and said that the same was true of this country several centuries ago, “but we have moved on.”  His tone implied progress, but I’m not so sure.

Consider the causes of war, action and reaction; if these are out of proportion, war can be the result.  Whether it was the Unionist reaction to the passing of the Home Rule Bill, or the supressed aspirations of the various nation-groups of central Europe, actions and reactions could have been different, more generous, less selfish; there could have been less insistence on an eye for an eye (Ex. 21:24), more turning of the other cheek (Mt. 5:38-39.)  How far so-called Christian Europe had ‘progressed’ from the backward and Biblical ways of earlier centuries!

And, almost a century later, are we at last enjoying some benefit from that ‘War to end Wars’?  Dissatisfaction, resentment and misrepresentation still abound, and have been joined by other ills.  That radio presenter said, “it used to be like that here”, i.e. we used to live close to God, with respect for Him and His creation, with a fear of judgement, and a realistic expectation that the sinful would be damned.  No one has seen or heard a pronouncement from Heaven during those intervening centuries, relaxing God’s commands, reducing His expectations of mankind.  Such a pronouncement would have overturned those words written to the Hebrews, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and for ever” (Heb. 13:8), and re-written our Bibles in many ways.

“If you’re not close to God, guess who moved,” invited a famous poster.  Perhaps it’s time we moved back!

What a Super Market!

It's now many years since I was first invited into Lynda's kitchen.  Hers was the sort of home where conversation normally followed her around the house, and as often as not gravitated to the kitchen.  Without knowing anything about the town where she lived, it was apparent that Sainsbury’s wasn’t far away.  At least seven out every ten items bore that familiar name.  Clearly, she trusted their quality and wasn’t afraid to show it on her shelves.

I once heard that the expression “eternal life” in our Bibles could be translated as “the life of eternity”, indicating that we don't have to wait until death for it to begin. 

 

Substitute "Sainsbury’s” for "eternity", and revisit my friend’s kitchen.  She certainly lived “the life of Sainsbury’s”, and did so daily in her own home.  Her lifestyle illustrates the same point.  She didn’t have to be at the store to live the life – she only went there to replenish her supplies.

Now think again about eternal life.  We don’t have to wait for heaven in order to experience it.  It can start for us here and now.  All we have to do is believe.  Jesus said, “whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life” (John 5:24).  What about replenishing our supplies?  We certainly don’t have to go to heaven for that.  We can read our Bibles and be in touch with God in prayer right in our homes, and the teaching that can really bring that Word to life is available (as they say in the adverts for the famous Alpha Course), “at a church near you.” 

 

In some churches the last Sunday in October is celebrated as ‘Bible Sunday’; if you don’t already have a daily practice of Bible reading, what better time to begin?  If you are uncertain about what in particular to read, or how to find a way in - it is a big book after all; in fact it's a whole library in one volume - there are many daily guides available, or can be found online too.  You could do worse than look here for starters.

The Obstacle Race

What a great summer it's been for sport.  All the usual selection - cricket, horse-racing, yachting, and golf - have been overshadowed by what some have declared to  be the greatest Olympic Games of all time.  It's turned my mind back to sports day at my junior school, and one event that will never make it to the Olympics.  Once the serious business of the day had been decided, the highlight for entertainment was the obstacle race.  We started off running in sacks - making sure that one foot was in each corner to maximise movement potential - and then, after negotiating hoops, hurdles and other hazards on the way, we were allowed to emerge from these encumbrances ready to enter the Tarpaulin.

This great green sheet, pegged down at the sides, was the Final Decider, and reversed the fortunes of many a hopeful competitor. It was heavy enough to defeat the speed of the strongest, and dark enough to confuse the sense of direction of many.  (Sadly, it also afforded the opportunity to cheat: to sabotage the opposition by an attack in the darkness)!  To the spectators, it was no small puzzle to determine the identity of the individual humps struggling to make progress towards the winning tape.  Only one thing was certain: never did the children come out in the same order as they went in!

It’s not just nostalgia.  There is a parallel, I think, between that tarpaulin on the sports field and the effect on us as we come to Faith.  Almost certainly, the first ones to reach the tarpaulin would be those who were the better runners, athletically the strongest in the school.  Often those to emerge first would be the least expected to win.  Perhaps they had certain skills which wouldn’t otherwise be called into play in the regular races - or maybe they were simply lucky.

Look around your church: where do you find the strongest faith?  Is it among those who earn most, who have the fastest cars or the biggest houses?  Is it among those who showed the highest IQ, who gained the best university degrees?  Is it among those who have ‘achieved’ in life?  Such people have their undoubted qualities, and it should never be suggested that they cannot have great faith, too.  But these attributes don’t determine our level of faith - this is totally independent of any other facet of our lives, and is the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Jesus faced an unenviable challenge in teaching his disciples.  We can read in St Mark ch.10 how he responded to the question of wealth and the Kingdom (“many who are first will be last, and the last first”), only to be confronted by the ambition of James and John (“you don’t know what you are asking!”).  The chapter concludes with the faith of the blind man (“your faith has healed you”).  It is often said that Jesus’ teaching turned the ways of the world upside down, and we can learn much from this chapter.  In particular, let’s resolve not to be sceptical about the faith of others around us.  Perhaps we should also be prepared to accept that God may be calling us more actively into His service, too.

Which hump in the tarpaulin are you?  You may be nearer the tape than you think!

Traffic has Changed ...

SatNav tells me, “Traffic has changed; there is a faster route.”  This even happens in the middle of the night, when I’m quite sure there is no traffic problem on my route.  Over time, I’ve realised that this is a polite euphemism, and the real meaning is something like, “I’ve spotted that you weren’t going my way; I’ve realised which way you might be going; would you like me to tell you how long it’ll take you to get there your way?”  You might call it spin, or a sub-text.  There’s a lot of it around these days.

How do you feel when you realise that there’s a sub-text to what someone is telling you?  Are you annoyed at an attempt to deceive?  Do you simply accept that they are trying to claim undue credit? Or do you, like me, feel a smug satisfaction that you’ve understood what is really going on?

The media seems to deliver a lot of spin these days; famously, much of it comes from politicians.  Take, for example, public expressions of condolence for the victims of tragedy, such as the reading of the latest casualty list from Afghanistan at Prime Minister’s Questions.  I confess to a cynical appraisal of this, wondering just how sincere are the feelings being expressed.  Then there’s the political guest who rudely ignores an interviewer’s question, blindly ploughing on instead with his own policy statement?  It’s as if their acceptance of an invitation to be interviewed is simply viewed as an opportunity to put their message across.

Fundamentalism may be unpopular but, put bluntly, aren’t all these simply bald untruths?  If something is said insincerely, or with an ulterior motive, how different is it from telling lies?  Do these people – politicians or not, for many players in the modern world adopt the same strategies – really think that Mr & Mrs Public are fooled?  If we’re not fooled, but accept this as normal, just an accepted part of daily life, doesn’t that make us accessories?

As in a recent blog, I turn to the Book of Common Prayer for support, this time to the services of Morning and Evening Prayer.  In the introduction to the general confession, we are encouraged, that ‘we should not dissemble nor cloke [our sins] before the face of Almighty God’.  These are old words that are no longer in common use, of course, but the meaning is clear.  ‘Cloke’ is simply an early form of the word ‘cloak’, with the meaning to hide away; as to dissemble, my dictionary comes straight to the point and defines it as ‘to conceal one’s motives, talk or act hypocritically; to disguise or conceal.’

And to go right back to basics, the Ninth Commandment says, 'you shall not give false testimony' (Ex.20:16.)  Whether it's SatNav, politicians, or other prominent personalities ... or even ourselves ... let's join together to comdemn all forms of false testimony that we encounter in the coming month, and see what happens!

Turning Cartwheels

Harvest time is always a difficult one for the preacher.  First of all, it’s not a Christian festival, so there is no obvious Bible story on which to focus our attention.  Then, the ‘traditional’ harvest scene is no longer an integral part in the lives of most of us, as once was the case.  So there is a dilemma: to attempt to re-create something now consigned to history; to introduce a ‘missionary’ element, and focus on the needs of the third world; or to re-define ‘harvest’ in broader terms of God’s bounty which now comes to us in tins and packets from the supermarket shelves.

If you read my last blog, when I recalled accompanying my mum to the cornfield to take my father his tea, you won't be surprised to learn that for me this time always conjours up pictures which wouldn’t be out of place illustrating a Thomas Hardy novel: giving thanks for the corn safely stored in the barn and the straw tidily thatched in the stackyard “’ere the winter storms begin”.

But let me draw you to one fine detail from that idyll of harvest past.  The corn would be conveyed from field to farm on a horse-drawn cart, running on two or four wooden wheels.  In the centre of the wheel is the hub, and radiating from it are spokes, joined together at their ends by a rim of wood, made in four or more pieces, and held in place by an iron tyre. 

I was reminded of the skill of the wheelwright recently when I visited a farm museum near Cambridge.  In a way our lives resemble those spoked wheels, each spoke representing a separate interest or sector of life: work, the bowls club, the church, our family, neighbours along the street, regular social contacts, the pub, and so on.  If you see a cartwheel laying on the ground, you will find that it isn’t actually flat.  The hub is some distance off the ground, supported by the spokes.  The wheel is designed that way so that it can better resist the forces associated with the moving waggon.

Each of those different sectors is an important part of our life.  Together they support us, just as the spokes of the wheel support the hub, and if a spoke is broken, if we have bad feeling with someone or some group, our life - the wheel - is the poorer.  It is easy to focus our attention on ourselves, to see ourselves as the all-important hub of a wheel.  But just turn the illustration upside down for a moment (Jesus often did this in his teaching, didn’t He?).  If the family, the neighbours and all the rest are the spokes of our wheel, doesn’t that mean that each of us is also a spoke of someone else’s wheel?  Doesn’t that place a responsibility on us: a giving, as well as a receiving rôle?

As we sing those familiar hymns once again this year, ask yourself, “whose harvest should I be helping to bring home?”

A Chip off the Old Block

At harvest time, I’m reminded especially of my father.  One of my early memories is of accompanying my mother as she took his tea to him in the harvest field.  On the face of it, I’m not much like my dad.  For as long as I can remember he was a portly fourteen stone compared to my (now admittedly increasing) twelve.  To date I have lived at eleven different addresses, while dad, in all of his eighty years and two days, moved house at the ages of three, six and forty-two, and never ventured at all beyond Norfolk or Suffolk.  I was privileged to spend seven years at the local grammar school.  Dad left school at thirteen or fourteen to work with his brothers on the farm: I collected ‘O’-levels and ‘A’-levels, but had no siblings.

And yet, more particularly as I grow older, I notice similarities: that same set of the jaw when puzzled, displeased or concentrating; the way I put my hand to my face when relaxing with a book.  Like dad, my pen sits in my right hand but, whenever two hands are required for a task, I fit his comfortable Norfolk description ‘left hand a-fore’.

Jesus resembled his Father.  When Philip asked “show us the Father”, our Lord’s response was, “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:8-9).  What greater parental resemblance could there be? 

There are other similarities to consider.  Genesis tells us that we were created in God’s own image (Gen. 1:27).  How many common characteristics does that give us with our heavenly Father?  Given that statement, we must accept that at the outset our similarity was 100%, but the influence of the sinful world in which we live has inevitably reduced that.

We are exhorted to “be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Mt. 5:48); Matthew also passes on to us the advice Jesus gave to one young man who sought to comply with this instruction.  “Go, sell your possessions and give to the poor … … then come, follow me” (Mt. 19:21).  Like many instructions, we shouldn’t respond to this one blindly in isolation - after all, selling all our possessions and giving away the proceeds would leave us unable to support ourselves: we would be poor and in need of the give-aways from someone else: an unsustainable vicious circle.

So what are we to do?  Most important is the end of Jesus’s remark: “follow me.”  I have always been inspired by a quote ascribed to St. Augustine: “Love God and please yourself.”  If our first priority is to love our heavenly Father, to read and study His word - metaphorically to ‘sit at His feet’ - then our wishes, desires and pleasures will naturally incline to His will.  As harvest time comes round again, may I suggest you consider what is the harvest of your life.  Are you reaping the abundant rewards of resembling your heavenly Father?

One for me, One for you

It was a busy weekend.  I had spent most of Saturday following up what part of my mind told me was a crazy idea.  I decided that, with my subscription to a renowned family history database, it ought to be possible to compile a fairly comprehensive history of the family we’d stayed with for our summer holidays year after year in my childhood.  Yes, it was possible, but one thing led to another, and it took far longer than I’d expected.

I went to bed on Saturday evening, didn’t sleep too well, and woke up with a little couplet going through my mind.  I don’t think it’s Biblical, but I’ve no idea where it does come from. “We can’t have all we want ... and we can’t keep all we have!”  Some complementary thoughts as I carried on with the task the following afternoon led to this article.

At the beginning of the last century concern was being felt in high places about the growth of our population, and a question was included in the 1911 census that caused quite a bit of consternation.  Its aim was to provide an idea of female fertility, but a century later it’s proved a boon to the family historian.  Every married woman was asked to provide four numbers.  How many years had she been married; how many children had she borne in her present marriage; how many of these were still alive, and how many had died?  (Even more useful to people like me, some widowers provided the same information!)

One of the ladies in my research had answered this question, “9:4:2:2”; in nine years of marriage, she had lost half of her children.  The two daughters still living were now aged eight and seven, but when I compared the birth and death indexes, I found four possibilities for the others, the oldest of which lived only to two years of age.  How life has improved now.  As I wondered just what she must have thought at the deaths of children so young, I realised that this was par for the course.  Maybe the percentage in this example was a mite high, but it was quite common for families to lose a proportion of their children at an early age.  It was as if they were called upon to share their children with God, or death, or the ‘grim reaper’, depending on the depth of their faith.

While these families might have wanted more children, in many cases it was an economic certainty that they couldn’t keep all those they had been blessed with.  I broadened out this thought, and considered how it might have applied to me.  As an only child, I have always struggled with the idea of sharing.  The son of a farm worker, I may not have had all I wanted, but I grew up safe in the knowledge that anything I did have, I would keep!  I now reflected upon Jesus’ story of a rich man (Luke 12:16-21,) and thought of a line from a hymn that I quoted in a recent article, “here for a season, then above ...”; I also recalled one of the many beautiful prayers from the Book of Common Prayer, “... comfort and succour all them, who in this transitory life are in trouble, sorrow, need, sickness, or any other adversity.”

Not for the first time, something had prompted me to look with a wider perspective at my transitory life, and the need to grade what concerns me into the comfortable, the convenient, the important, and the essential; and to realise just how little around me actually originates in the last of those categories!

Systematic

I’ve never been sure whether the skills of my friend the Systems Consultant are with administrative or computer systems.  He certainly demonstrates great facility with computers, whatever his professional engagement.  For my part, I’ve always found great satisfaction in seeing either sort of system fulfil its intended purposes smoothly and efficiently just the way it was designed.

The life of mankind is a system.  Created in purity and perfection as we read in Genesis, the system has been marred, biffed and battered down the centuries as man has exercised the freedom God provided, but it’s still a functioning system for all that.  The same is true of our individual lives: born, for the most part, in wholeness, but as the years pass, sickness or injury can take their toll on our physical efficiency, as also abuse or mental illness can impair our emotional systems.

God’s church is a system, too.  It was designed to be His body on earth, to spread the Gospel, the good news of God’s love for all mankind, and His provision for our redemption.  In that remarkable book that ends our Bible, the Revelation to John, we can find letters to seven early churches.  Though broadly similar in structure, each letter is tailored to the particular needs of the church to which it is addressed, highlighting their strengths and weaknesses in God’s service.  As we read these letters (Rev. 2:1-3:22), it is worth comparing the characteristics of those early churches to our own.

There are many parallels between the church of the first century and that of the twenty-first.  From time to time we find ourselves fighting opposition from authorities or from the community around us.  We have to test the validity of religious leaders who may be misguided in their revolutionary ideas, or may in fact be wisely challenging our own ill-founded practices.  We can see, for example, that the people of Sardis were only going through the motions of being church.  Beneath the surface they were really half asleep (Rev. 3:1-2): their system was in ‘idle mode’.  Or look at the Laodiceans, whose riches made them blind to their real needs.  Their church system was like an engine with too much lubrication: it was clogged up and, try as it might, it couldn’t run properly.

The church, though, is composed of individuals.  We can blame ‘the system’, and it’s all too easy for us to claim that any inefficiency is down to others or the fault of someone else in particular.  We have to remember, though, that we are all cogs in the same engine.  As individuals within the body of the church, we have responsibilities to each other and to the whole (Rom. 12:5).  We are part of the system: it cannot function as perfectly without us as it can with us.  Let’s pray for guidance in the use of those gifts with which we have been blessed for the good of the whole (I Peter 4:10).

Signs of Life

It rather stuck in my mind.  As I was waiting to collect some goods for delivery one day a few weeks ago, drinking in the unusual warmth in the air, and thinking summer might have arrived at last, 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. 

Last year, 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 that had 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; its design and inscription are still clear to me now.  Around the edge were the words, “In hoc signo vinces”, and in the middle of these was a big, plain cross.  Its presence is echoed by the plain wooden cross I now wear every day. 

I recently found out the meaning of those words, and perhaps they can be taken as an indicator of hope for us all in these difficult times, “In this sign you will conquer!”

Up the Pole

The other day I was reminded – by a post at the side of the road – that this summer would have seen my ruby wedding!  The story is a simple one, but it also leads on to a Biblical link as well.

I’d been working late; although it was a main road there was no other traffic.  I was driving in thick fog.  At one point I was following a white line alongside the car ... but on its left hand side!  With a feeling of panic I realised I was going down the wrong side of the road, and started a correcting drift to my left.  Suddenly, crash!  The car came to an abrupt halt, and my near-side headlamp went out.  When I looked at the damage, I found that the lamp had taken the impact from a metal post that was now leaning at about 45 degrees away from the car.  At its far end was a sign saying ‘lay by’.  I had not only been on the wrong side of the road, but had been driving down a lay-by on the far side!

That incident must have taken place over forty years ago, because I sold that car soon after getting engaged.  What brought it to mind was the observation of some roadside posts coated with reflective paint – silver on one side and red on the other – and I thought how useful these are compared to the one I’d hit all those years ago.  If that one had been painted thus, I should have seen it, even in fog!  At the time, these thoughts offered a convenient illustration to the sermon I was (half-) listening to on my mp3-player.  The preacher’s text was Romans chapter 7, where Paul speaks of sin having no power were it not for the law, and asks rhetorically whether the law is sin (vv.7-8.) 

The next day I heard the story of Jim Thorpe, which provided another illustration for the same point.  Jim was a Native American who won gold medals for both the pentathlon and decathlon at the 1912 Olympic Games.  When, early in 1913, it was revealed that, in 1909-10 he had received payment (although only a few dollars) for playing baseball, his medals were taken from him.  In his letter of apology he pointed out that he “did not know all about such things.”  It wasn’t just that he was unaware of the rule about professionals taking part in the Games; he didn’t know that there were rules!

Whether painted or not, the roadside posts are there to mark the edge of the carriageway.  They don’t protect the carriageway from the invasion of the vegetation on the other side of that edge, nor from the cars that drive on it.  Whether known or not, the Olympic rules are there, not to protect the reputation of Games, but to define each competitor’s rights and entitlements.  In the same way, God’s Law isn’t there to protect Him – He has no need of protection!  It’s there to show us the limits beyond which our behaviour is unacceptable to Him.  If there’s any need for protection, it’s for us, against the wrath of God should we cross that boundary!

At the end of the previous chapter, Paul explained that “The wages of sin (one translation calls it the ‘pay-off’ of sin, because the original Greek word refers to the payment that would be made to a soldier at the end of his time of service; here it’s the end-result of our sin) is death, but,” he went on to explain the very Good News that is the basis of our Christian Faith, “the gift of God is eternal life in (or as a result of the sacrifice of) Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Rom. 6:23.)

Hang in there!

Do you remember cassette tapes?  Over a period of some thirty or so years, I accumulated a collection of over 100 of them ... and that’s after giving some away!  In time, I changed to CDs for my personal selection of recorded music that I can play to myself any time I like.  Long ago I bought two matching sets of drawers, some fitted out for tapes and some for CDs, to house these next to my stereo.  More recently I realised that the drawers were no longer fashionable, and anyway, they no longer housed a currently supportable means of providing a musical background to domestic life.  I obtained a cupboard to replace the drawers for the CDs.  

But I was still left with those tapes!  I didn’t want to lose them for, despite their low intrinsic value, many would be difficult or even impossible to replace.  I decided that they would have to be transferred to my computer.  I bought a unit from one of those catalogues that fall out of magazine deliveries, and set to work.  It was a tedious business.  Once the software had been installed, each tape had to be listened to in real playback time, and the extent of each track noted.  Then the tracks had to be isolated and labelled on the screen before they could be finally saved.  After completing only six tapes, I gave up, and the unit lay unused at the back of a cupboard.  When I changed my computer’s hard disk, I didn’t bother about re-installing that particular program.

What I really wanted was something that would just soak up the data, rather like a scanner soaks up a photograph, and - plop! - there it is on the computer with no more effort than the click of a mouse.  Last summer, I saw something that looked just right, and at little more than half the cost of the redundant unit in my cupboard.  It arrived bright, shiny and smart, and full of promise.  I set to unpacking it and setting it up beside the computer.  Then I installed the software.   Oh, no!  It was the same program I'd had before!  I should still have to go through that same painstaking process if I wanted to preserve those treasured recordings!

It was about then that news broke of the inner city riots and, like many people, I marvelled at the looting, the greed, and the something-for-nothing culture that seemed to be motivating at least some of the young people involved.  Instant gratification has become part of normal life today, whether it is the acquisition of goods, or seeing a whole project completed in ‘the click of a mouse’.  My prayer notes directed me that morning to James’s letter:  “Be patient, then, brothers, until the Lord’s coming.  See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop and how patient he is for the autumn and spring rains.  You too, be patient and stand firm ... As you know, we consider blessed those who have persevered.  You have heard of Job’s perseverance and have seen what the Lord finally brought about.  The Lord is full of compassion and mercy.”  (James 5:7-8a,11.)

So, it will be worth it after all!

Cures and Remedies

What’s your reaction when something breaks, or no longer works properly?  It might be big or small, but nothing lasts for ever, they say, and at times like that decisions have to be made.  Inevitably these will be broadly either a) ‘find the remedy/repair/spare part and fix it: it could be as good as new in a few minutes/days/months,’ or b) ‘throw it away and get another one/start again.’

Some years ago, when my first wife told me she was seeing someone else – and why – a friend made us a very generous offer: he and his wife would look after our children while we went off for a week to his holiday home on the Suffolk coast, to spend some quality time getting to know each other properly again, hopefully enabling us to sort out our problems.  At the time we both felt things had gone too far for that: we turned down the offer, and rejected the possibility of saving our marriage.  Our decision was firmly in the ‘throw away and get a new one’ category.  Sadly her new relationship lasted only a few months, and each of us then passed through several lonely years.

I was reminded of this a few months ago when I confronted the fact that my new mobile phone appeared not to be working properly.  I won’t bore you with the symptoms, but the upshot was that it had become unreliable.  I rang the phone company, and spoke to a technician who guided me through the necessary steps to return the phone to its original settings.  Despite many misgivings, and my certainty that what I really needed was a replacement phone, I persevered and tried to use it normally over the next week or so, to see whether the reset had done the trick.

As the days passed, and the phone did indeed seem to be working properly, I found my misgivings diminished.  It was a slow process, however; only gradually did I learn to accept that the remedy had worked.  This experience was the opposite of the marital situation to which I have compared it.  As I reflected on these ‘reject or repair’ decisions my thoughts touched on the Old Testament story of Jonah.  You will recall how, after first rejecting God’s instructions, the prophet eventually went to Nineveh and was so successful in his mission that the people turned to God in shame and repentance.  Jonah couldn’t really believe this, and found it difficult to accept the result.

So, what can I – indeed all of us, now I’ve shared the matter – take from this?  Well, we can resolve to turn to God in the first instance when trouble strikes, and not to leave it until other avenues have been exhausted; having done that, we ought to feel secure in the knowledge that He CAN change things – even people!

Eavesdropping

The other week, I witnessed an odd exchange on the supermarket car park.  The wife was overtaken by her husband at a gentle trot.  As he passed her she must have asked why he was running.  I caught just part of his response: that he was going to tell …. “I’ve already told her,” she protested, walking briskly to keep up with him.  Her husband didn’t ease his pace, “But I need to explain,” he announced, and jogged off to the far side of the car park.  The defeated wife turned back, presumably towards their own vehicle.

Now, what was going on here?  Several questions came to mind.  The wife was clearly puzzled.   She had already imparted the necessary information to the third party; what additional explanation ought she to have provided?   What had prompted the husband’s hasty mission?  Didn’t he trust his wife to inform whoever of the complete situation, or was he concerned that she might have misrepresented his part in whatever had made this message necessary?  Was some subterfuge involved?  Did he need to impart to this unknown and unseen female some detail of which his wife was unaware?  (Can you see the mind of the wannabe novelist at work here?)

Another completely different interpretation might apply, of course.  These two were of an age that they might have had a teenage daughter.  Maybe she had travelled with them to the town centre, and was meeting friends there.  Mother had told her that they would expect her home at teatime; father, however, wanted to dot i’s and cross t’s.  Maybe he wanted to issue strict instructions as to her behaviour, or tell her where they would be during the afternoon, should she need to call them.

When it comes to the variety of stories that have grown up around a definite set of facts, little can be more prolific than religion.  The number of so-called ‘Christian’ sects is scarcely measurable.  When we are faced with unfamiliar rituals or cults, or with another mainstream religion such as Islam or Judaism, it is all too easy for traditional Christians to reject them out of hand, and have nothing to do with them.  While this might be the right response, I feel we ought always to examine these differing beliefs, and discover on what they are based.  What are the basic facts behind them?  Do they coincide with those of true Christianity: Jesus the only Son of God, incarnate, sacrificed for the sins of mankind, resurrected, and returned to Heaven where He intercedes on behalf of believers?  Are some of these elements twisted or missing, or subject to inappropriate additions, further conditions and so on?  We are warned (Rev. 22:18-19) about adding to or subtracting from God’s Word, and surely the same applies to the teaching of His Church.

That supermarket incident is now some weeks ago; the couple were totally unknown.  And, even if they could be located, would they recall a minor exchange that, to them, was part the cut and thrust of normal life?  One thing is virtually certain, however.  They had no idea that their words would become a subject of Christian teaching!

Kicking the Habit

I’m fairly certain that you’ve never thought of Paul’s letter to the Galatians in the context of a mis-delivered pint of beer! 

A couple of years ago I thought I’d overcome my anxiety about the regular flow of work (being self-employed, time without work is time without income), and learned to trust in God to provide. Then I realised the other day that, such good resolutions notwithstanding, I’m still measuring whether or not I’ve had a good week by the likely income at the end of it, rather than whether it has been one of worthy service to others, or has brought me closer to God.  This idea of clinging to old habits led to the strange juxtaposition noted above.

Some of the most bizarre stories are also the funniest, and the ones that seem to stick in my mind.  I remembered this one concerning a man who suffered with a deformed neck, the consequence of which was that his head was off-centre compared to his body.  One day in his local, he met a physiotherapist who was holidaying in the area.  The man observed his condition, and with one swift manipulation cured his deformity.  Drinks were ordered to celebrate; our hero said “Cheers!” ... and promptly tossed his pint over his shoulder!

When we invite Jesus to be Lord of our life, we may take some time – perhaps a number of years! – to appreciate fully the extent to which He has changed us.  St Paul wrote to the Galatians, “... don’t let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. ... You who are trying to be justified by the law have been alienated from Christ. ... You were running a good race.  Who cut in on you and kept you from obeying the truth? ... You ... were called to be free.” (Galatians 5:1,4,7,13)

Like the readers of Paul’s letter, we may have drifted back to, or have never left, habits in our life that are really only relics of the past: aspects of behaviour, or reactions to other people that are totally out of kilter with our new life in Christ.  They were so much part of our old life, and so normal for us then, that we don’t realise that the arrival of God’s Holy Spirit has made them redundant or defeated.  Or maybe we do realise this, but somehow seem powerless to overcome them.

Do you – like me – have something like that in your life that needs overturning, rejecting and clearing out? Maybe you have a close friend who would pray with you about it.  After all, ‘a problem shared is a problem halved,’ they say.  And if it’s a problem shared with Jesus, that proportion has to be infinitely smaller!

Bronze Beauty

(with apologies to Anna Sewell)

I am first used – After I was minted I was taken, along with hundreds of my friends, to a big bank.  All of us were packed into bags, and although we were all in the dark, inside a big canvas sack, none of us was frightened, because we were all together.  Then one day two sacksful of us were taken to a supermarket where, after a short while laying on a shelf, we were emptied into a noisy cash drawer.  Here we were forced to make friends with other, older pennies that had been all over the world, it seemed – oh the stories they told!

Given in change – One day, I was snatched up, along with one of those older pennies, and handed over to a little old woman.  She grumbled as she took us, “Not a lot of good giving me these – you can’t get anything with twopence these days!”  Still muttering as she walked along, she stuffed us into a tiny pocket in her jacket.  Later we felt quite air-sick, as we were swung in the air and jerked to and fro. There was a metallic ‘chink’ and the movement stopped; a click, and all was even darker than before.

Life in a pocket – Apart from the darkness, the two things I chiefly remember about the next month or so were the strong smell of mothballs, and the stony silence.  Everywhere I’d been up to then there had been background noise, chattering voices, things being moved around, and so on.  Here there was nothing – it was as if life itself was suspended.

I am found – There were occasions when there was a click, and light burst briefly into our isolation; there was a rustling, and then all was darkness again.  Then one day in one of these bright intervals, came that same swinging in the air that we had experienced before.  There was gentle, regular movement; the jacket was being worn again.

Tossed away – It was clear we had entered a large building, for every sound we heard was echoing around us; there was talking, music and singing.  All at once we were flying through the air, and with a crash we landed on a big metal plate, amongst lots more money.  Then we were left in peace and were, for the first time it seemed, in bright daylight.  It was quite dazzling.

The voice – From somewhere I thought I heard a voice, but the bright light had made me a bit light-headed; maybe it was just in my mind.  It said, “This poor widow has put in more than all of them.” (St. Luke 21:3.)

You may think yourself unimportant, or of little value to anyone, but just remember how appreciated you are by God!

Close Season

In an earlier article, I revealed my interest in football, particularly that section of the game known as ‘Non-League’.   I’m pleased this year to note that two teams from my native Norfolk have earned promotion to Step 4.  Although this is a significant achievement, it’s still four leagues below N-Power League Two, and even further away from Norwich City in the Barclays Premiership!  There is a complete pyramidal structure of these lower leagues, and I’m fascinated at the end of the season to follow the many play-off sequences, and see which teams will move up through the various levels.  Some teams, however, don’t move the way that their final positions would indicate.  Maybe their ground isn’t up to the required standard, or perhaps their economic situation won’t stand the financial pressures in a higher league.

St Paul knew about sport; in his first letter to the infant church in Corinth he wrote about runners competing in a race, and encouraged his readers to “Run in such a way as to get the prize.”  He also described his own practice, “I don’t run like a man running aimlessly,” he wrote, “I don’t fight like a man beating the air.” (I Cor. 9:24,26.)  Paul emphasised the need to do things positively; with gusto, we might say.  He was anxious that these new believers should not succumb to the many temptations that could overwhelm their fragile faith.  He compared their situation to that of the Israelites wandering in the desert in the time of Moses.  He used the example of those who died there to warn the Corinthians to be strong in their faith, to recognise the dangers and turn aside from tempting distractions before it was too late.

Jesus, too, was tempted.  The story is in St Luke’s Gospel, and at the end of it we can return to the football analogy for, in the King James’ version we read, “... and when the devil had ended all the temptation, he departed from him for a season.” (Luke 4:13.)  This wasn’t a football season, of course; nor was it summer, autumn or winter.  The NIV translation explains it: “until an opportune time.”  Such an opportune time might have been the occasion in the Garden of Gethsemane, when Jesus asked, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me” (Luke 22:42.)   The words that follow reveal His strength, “Yet not my will but yours be done.”

Ecclesiastes, the Preacher of the Old Testament, wrote, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven” (Eccl. 3:1.) The succeeding verses have been made into a popular song, and indicate a variety of activities for which there is an appropriate time or season.  A season is thus an identifiable unit in the great pattern of life.  

One of my favourite hymns is ‘Just as I am, without one plea’;  a phrase from that hymn always brings a catch to my throat as I sing it, and it comes to my mind in this context, too: “Here for a season, then above, O Lamb of God, I come.”  While it puts into perspective how important it is to keep an eye on the opposition, and always play hard to win, it reminds us too that we are playing for the greatest and most forgiving Manager of all time!

So, on the strength of your current form, where will you be playing next season?

A Different View

Last summer I enjoyed a holiday based at my cousin's home at Eastwood in Nottinghamshire. One evening, I decided to travel to Buxton to watch Eastwood Town play their first pre-season friendly match against the club there.  Unfortunately the result was a home win, but I’m sure the game was beneficial to both teams.  As I overheard someone near to me saying at the other match I watched that week at Alfreton, “all goals are helpful, even the ones scored against you!” – the home team lost that match 4-1, playing against the Football League side, Chesterfield.

Now, when I watch a match I usually position myself, if possible, somewhere near the halfway line.  This has much to do with my eyesight, for I find it difficult to determine just what is happening at one goalmouth if viewed from the other end of the ground.  Present at that Buxton-Eastwood match was one spectator who, being dressed in a business suit, stood out from the crowd.  I believe him to be a director of Eastwood Town, and I noticed that, for much of the second half, he was positioned behind the goal that Eastwood were attacking.

Presumably this was to focus on his team’s performance in that particular aspect of their game.  His purpose was different from that of a neutral spectator like me, so he deliberately secured a viewpoint that was most beneficial for him.  It’s not every day that one encounters a football director, so I hope I may be forgiven for placing undue emphasis on the experience.  But it did set me thinking about his interest in the game, and the responsibilities he holds regarding football in the town and to the club in particular.

My Bible readings that week had been from the book of Job, and I related this experience to the end of that book.  After Job’s friends have each had their say about his situation, Job turns to God to justify himself, demanding to know whatever evidence there might be against him to result in all his suffering (ch.31.)   The young man Elihu then puts in his twopence worth, delaying the account of God’s response to Job (and thus reminding us that He answers us in His own good time … not ours!)  Finally comes the reply, and it’s not a point-for-point rebuttal of Job’s protestations of innocence.  For the detail, I invite you to read chapters 38 & 39 – but take a deep breath first!  In summary, The Lord makes Job aware that there is another dimension to all of this that is beyond his understanding. 

When we are baffled by something that just doesn’t make sense, we would do well to realise that there is probably a completely different way to look at the situation.  Then we may find ourselves echoing Job’s words at 42:3, “Surely I spoke of things I didn’t understand, things too wonderful for me to know.”

Granddad

Can you imagine it?  “What are you thinking about, granddad?”  “Things before you were born, my dear ... things before your mother was born!”  Grandfather is looking back down the years, to a time perhaps fifty years ago, when he was at school, or perhaps in his teens or twenties.  Maybe he even remembers in his own childhood asking his grandfather the same thing, and getting a similar response. 

This whole subject fascinates me, and I sometimes wonder about how far back just a few generations can take us.  If my grandparents in their childhood had asked about their grandparents’ early memories, the answers would have brought to mind days of great change: the days of the 1820’s and -30’s, when a number of famous Acts of Parliament introduced Catholic emancipation, electoral reform and a broadening of the way that the poor were relieved.  In fact, two of my great-great-grandfathers would have remembered, at the age of 16, news of the battle of Waterloo!

How different life would have been in those days, just three life-times away!  It’s thoughts like this that call to mind the fact that life itself is composed of changes, be they big or small.  Look for instance at the dramatic advances in communication media over just the last five years – or the fashions of a few years ago and how out of place they’d seem today.  This month many will be watching the FA Cup Final; you probably know that a regular part of the preliminaries to this annual event is the singing of that famous hymn, Abide with me.  Do you remember the words of the second verse?  “Change and decay in all around I see: O Thou who changest not, abide with me.”

Are there people whose mood seems to change like the weather; people on whom you can’t depend, with whom you have to spend a while in silence, waiting to know just how to address them today?  Such people carry uncertainty with them, like a cloud, and if your circumstances mean that you are frequently in their company, life itself can become quite unbearable.  How refreshing it is that our God is just the opposite.  As Francis Lyte reminded us in that hymn, God never changes.  And we don’t just have to take his word for it.  Our Bibles tell us of “the Father of the heavenly lights, who doesn’t change like shifting shadows” (Jas. 1:17), and this echoes other verses, like “I say my purpose will stand; I will do all that I please” (Is. 46:10), “I, the Lord, do not change.” (Mal. 3:6) and “God’s gifts and His call are irrevocable.” (Rom. 11:29).

We have just celebrated Easter, and the gift of salvation marked by Jesus’ death on the Cross and His Resurrection.  Isn’t this evidence enough of God standing by his promises, doing what he pleases, never changing?  Next time you see grandparents and grandchildren together, imagine their conversation.  Consider the vast range of their experiences: the changes that they have seen, and that will take place over their collective lifetimes, and reflect on the eternal, unchanging nature of our Lord.