Just Saying ...

“What the eye doesn’t see, the heart won’t grieve over.”   When was the last time you heard someone use this saying ... or, for that matter, say it yourself?  It’s an expression that implies some sort of cover-up.  It might be comparatively innocent, like disguising bad news from a vulnerable person, or it could be some sinister deception being planned to benefit the speaker and/or the listener.

Talking of sayings, I’ve had one running round in my mind for some days, “as plain as a pikestaff”, and I wondered if I was being prompted to use it in one of these articles.  Now I have the answer, one that combines these two.  I was recently directed to St Luke’s story (Acts 5:1-11) of a man and his wife who sold some property.  They decided, probably with good reason, that part of the money should be for themselves and part should be given to the Apostles for the embryonic church.  Their big mistake was in claiming that the money they handed over was the total proceeds of the sale.  It was as if one had said to the other, “What the eye doesn’t see, the heart won’t grieve over.”

In the case of Ananias and Sapphira, the consequences were dire, but happily this end doesn’t befall everyone who uses those words.  Their problem was that they tried to deceive God and, as Paul told the Galatians, “God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows.  The one who sows to please his sinful nature, from that nature will reap destruction.” (Gal. 6:7-8).  But where do we draw the line?  We might not dare deceive God, but what about our friends?  We probably wouldn’t deceive them ... unless maybe in something ‘innocent’, or for a joke.  What about other people?  Do we have scruples about deceiving, say, a shopkeeper by keeping quiet if we’re given too much in change, or our employer by fiddling our expenses?

Jesus taught, “Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matt. 5:48).  It’s as plain as a pikestaff: our target is not simply to treat God correctly, or Him and some people.  We should aim for perfection, to be honest with everyone.  We won’t make it, of course; perfection is beyond human achievement.  It should be our aim, however; then at least we can expect forgiveness if we don’t quite make it.  But if we go into a situation with the intention of deceiving the other party, then we’re lost before we begin.

You noticed I used that other saying ... about the pikestaff?  Perhaps you’ve seen one in a museum, or maybe in pictures of the Yeoman Warders at the Tower of London.  The actual staff had to be plain, nice and smooth so as not to discomfort the user.  But just for a moment think of what was on the ‘business end’.  The point turned a plain staff into a spear, which could seriously injure an enemy on impact; and that hook ... no one would want that to twist and tug on his flesh as it’s pulled back by an assailant!  So the saying, like the pike itself, is barbed.  We can see the meaning clearly, but we need also to be aware of the consequences of disregarding it.

Next time you hear those words about unseeing eyes and non-grieving hearts, make sure it’s not from your own mouth!

Life on the Edge

I've written here before about dreams, and my theory that they are most often a conglomeration of little snippets of what's been happening in our lives, thrown together in a haphazard fashion by our brains as they sift and sort stuff while we're asleep.  I thought I'd share with you a recent example from my own dream life.

A couple of weeks ago I was helping a team of people who were preparing for a holiday club that took place in our church during the next week.

Service at the end of Holiday Club

To describe it as upheaval would be less than accurate. Chairs were all cleared from the main part of the church and most were stacked neatly by the side windows; some were arranged down the opposite side of the building into squares, and each square had two tables within it.  A gazebo had been erected just inside the main door, so everyone entering would have to pass through it.  Oh, and the pulpit was disguised as a space rocket.

On Thursday morning, as I drove along with my radio tuned in to listen to the opening moments of the fourth test match from Trent Bridge, I was so shocked that I completely missed my turning off the motorway.  This was upheaval of a different sort.  At that time on the first morning of a five-day match, the opening batsmen are usually settling themselves at the crease.  Not so on this occasion; the first six wickets fell within about half an hour, a performance that has since caused much media attention, and will undoubtedly continue to do so.

My weird dream on Thursday night/Friday morning could certainly be classified in the same league for its degree of upheaval. There was a cinema in a small village church.  Clearly the vicar had decided to 'do things differently'.  At first there were only two elderly people in the 'audience', but when others arrived and took seats in front of them, these two complained that they couldn't see, so moved to the front with their chairs.  Eventually, one of them decided that there was a draft, so he went home and got the quilt from his bed, which he then spread over his own knees and those of the woman next to him - not his wife - and began to share a box of chocolates with her.  And all this time, the film was running, so lots of people were missing bits of it!

At this point the events inside the church transformed into a cartoon strip, with a film canister laying on the floor bearing the bizarre - if biblical - title, 'The Whore and the Carpenter'.  Yet another transformation showed me a tabloid scandal with lurid headlines suggesting all sorts of misbehaviour ....

It must have been then that I awoke in predictable confusion, with a number of scripture texts half-recalled in my head.  I've since had the opportunity to make some sense of them.  One was a passage from Paul's letter to the Corinthians, where he described how he would vary his behaviour according to who he was teaching (I Cor. 9:20-22); "I have become all things to all people, so that by all means I may save some." (v.22).

Another was a passage I had read earlier in the week in Galatians, where Paul seemed to be holding the opposite view (Gal. 2:11-12), and told of having accused Cephas (i.e. Peter) of doing this very same thing and adjusting what he did to suit who was present.

When things don't follow expected norms, we get excited.  We wonder who or what is behind it ... especially if the divergence from what is usual is great.  Sometimes, such changes are intentional, to teach some fundamental truth, or to make people think in different ways ... such as the holiday club, where 90-plus young children had a whale of a time learning about the stories of Daniel, and the underlying principle of trusting God.  Not everyone is in favour of such events ... especially in the church!  But let me throw in another of those texts I woke up with.  This time it was the words of Jesus, "Do you think I have come to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!" (Luke 12:51).

Jesus' message to the world was so powerful He knew it would be divisive.  So it is when we attempt to take it to people in the twenty-first century.  We may have to be outrageous to make any impact at all through the clamour of modern life.  We have to learn that to be outrageous for God is OK, even if it means shifting all the seats in the church, or installing a cinema.  What we have to be careful to avoid is outrage for its own sake.  Jesus caused division in His own age, for a purpose.  We must be sure that any division we foster is not only for a purpose, but for His purpose!

What can I do?

I find that I’m frequently tempted to share experiences of my earlier working life as an illustration of some semi-relevant point at our weekly men’s breakfasts.  The other week I regaled my friends with a tale of time-recording.  I can’t now recall how it related to our discussion, but I was amused to find that, when I returned home, my own daily Bible reading directed me to the story of Jesus’ sending out the seventy-two ‘other’ disciples (Luke ch. 10).

To explain this amusement, let me begin with the story I told.  Some forty years ago I was a keen young cost clerk, and one of my responsibilities was the analysis of hours worked on the shop-floor as recorded on coloured clock-cards.  When a new employee arrived, it was the normal practice that he would spend the first week or so alongside experienced workers to learn the processes by their side.  While they were doing this, their time was analysed to ‘training’.  On this occasion, I was aware of some new employees, but had detected no time that had been shown for them as ‘training’.  I taxed the supervisor with this apparent oversight.

“Training?” he replied with a smile, “They don’t need a lot of training.  They start at 8.0 as raw recruits, and by lunchtime they’re semi-skilled operators!”  What I hadn’t realised was that, because it was holiday time, there weren’t sufficient skilled men for them to work alongside, and these new arrivals were working as part of a standard eight-man team, almost from the word ‘go’.  As I read from Luke’s Gospel, I thought of those disciples, going off two by two, and wondered whether they felt like raw recruits, or if they had the confidence of semi-skilled evangelists.  Certainly they returned with feelings of achievement (Luke 10:17), but in the next verse Jesus warned them to remain focussed on the real aim of the exercise.

John devoted many chapters of his Gospel to Jesus’ final instructions to the disciples before his Crucifixion and ultimate departure from them.  He reminded them of the importance of constantly being aware of His presence in their lives, and how this virtually guaranteed the success of their mission in the world.  “If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5).  Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, expresses the same philosophy, but from the opposite direction, “I can do all this through Him who gives me strength” (Phil. 4:13).

This poses some important questions for us, of course.  What kind of trainees are we?  Firstly, do we know what it is that we’re supposed to be doing?  I confess that’s one I often ask myself!  Do we go about our work with confidence?  Or are we the sort of trainee who reads the manuals from cover to cover and learns all the scripts, but when it comes to the actual situation, we don’t see which page is being acted out before us?  Are we more like those new employees who found themselves part of the team on their first day, without a skilled man beside them to watch and to copy?

My advice is to identify prominent Christians who clearly achieve success alongside humility, and follow in their footsteps, rather like that servant of King Wenceslas, who was told, “Mark my footsteps, good my page, tread thou in them boldly.”  But (not to forget Paul’s example of exploring truth from another direction), here’s an important warning: when one is known as a disciple, one should ensure that one’s steps are worthy of being followed!