Don't Knock It!

The fact that you’re reading this blog almost guarantees that you will use other social media, too.  It has become almost universal in recent years.  I expect many of you will also know of, if not be familiar with, ‘text-speak’.  Articulate texters, for example, use strange words where a single character replaces a whole syllable.  This tends to appeal to the younger generation – perhaps in this context that's the under-fifties – to some of whom this language has become almost ‘2nd n8r.’

E-mails have also brought with them another, and more gentle, linguistic phenomenon.  This is a whole new generation of acronyms.  I occasionally see SKS, in an appeal for favours from ‘some kind soul’, and an amusing comment may be terminated by LOL.  This could mean either ‘lots of laughter’, ‘laughs out loud’ or - as in an embarrassing political context not long ago - ‘lots of love’!  Someone who is uncertain of his authority, but wishes to join in an exchange of views, might add to his offering FWIW (for what it’s worth); a bolder participant might begin IMHO (in my humble opinion).

As usual, there are two sides to the debate about these, and many critics say they are contrived, a mere novelty, and degrade the rich heritage that is the English language.  Before you condemn them, though, I want to suggest that even these can direct our minds to God.  Let’s focus our Christmas thoughts on those last two items.

‘For what it’s worth’ – Jesus taught that we are of high value to God.  In Matt. 10:29-31 He tells us that we are worth more than many sparrows, each of which is individually precious.  Later in his Gospel, Matthew gives an account of separating ‘sheep’ from ‘goats’.  This decision will be based on the way people have treated each other, particularly those of  a lower level of society, the needy, the sick or those in prison.  Jesus says that the treatment offered or not offered to them is done ‘to Him’ (Matt. 25:32,40,45.)  We should be in no doubt of the worthiness to God of people who, to many, are the dregs of society.  Peter underlined this universality of God in his talk with the centurion Cornelius: ‘... God does not show favouritism but accepts from every nation the one who fears him and does what is right.’ (Acts 10:34-35).

‘In my humble opinion’ is just an embellished form of the more familiar term ‘with respect.’  My dictionary tells me that humble is ‘having or showing a low estimate of one’s own importance’, and respect is ‘deferential esteem felt or shown towards a person or quality’.  In other words both terms imply placing a lower value on oneself than on the other party.

These phrases are rarely used with genuine feeling these days, however.  Often they are no more than a formula, an attempt to excuse an outrageous statement; and the expanded ‘with all due respect’ may well indicate that the speaker has no respect at all for his protagonist, and is by no means humble himself.

So, where do we look for real humility?  It ought to be found in someone whose high rank is in no doubt, but who doesn’t stand on his own importance, rather seeking out the lower echelons of society to join them instead (Phil. 2:6-8.)

Our Lord came to earth, not in a palace fit for a King, but to join common folk, people of equal worth to the king, in the person of the illegitimate child of a carpenter’s fiancée.  He was born in squalor and laid in a manger because there wasn’t a place in the inn for ‘people like them.’  We shouldn't really be surprised that true humility was found in an animals' feeding trough ... and soon was to live the life of a refugee!

Falling Leaves

Last weekend, we had a leaf-clearing morning at my church.  Tools were brought and shared, paths were swept and the grass was relieved of a generous covering of leaves and twigs.  Bags were filled and taken for disposal and donuts and coffee were enjoyed.  Aching backs were soothed later in the weekend.

Now that the leaves are all down from the trees, passing motorists get a far better view of the mock-gothic of the church building, and all around can see the trees in a new, naked splendour with the branches twisting and almost dancing around each other as they reach up to the autumn sunlight.  We can see the underlying structure that forms the basis for the familiar green shapes that will once more greet us next spring.

This weekend has seen the start of a new church year, a year that traditionally begins with the first Sunday in Advent.  Advent means 'coming', and that's a good way to start the year: reminding us what belonging to a church and being a follower of Jesus really means.  When Jesus left this earth at the end of His ministry here, his disciples were gazing after him; suddenly, two men in white - angels - were beside them and told them, "This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way ..." (Acts 1:11).

From that moment until now, and beyond, history carries us with it towards this specific point, the return of Jesus in glory, to judge and rule over the earth.  We don't know - any more than did those early believers to whom Paul wrote in Greece - when He will come.  However, we do know that it will be sudden (I Thess. 5:2) and we're told to be ready for his return, working to share His gospel so that others, too, can share in the blessings to come.  That's what the church is all about.

Like Lent, Advent is known as a 'solemn season', a time when we pay special attention to looking at ourselves, reviewing how we spend our lives, and trying to move closer to God's ideal, the way He wants us to live.  Just as we can see and measure the structure of the trees, now they haven't any leaves, so we can measure ourselves in this period of thoughtfulness.  We can examine the structure of our lives and see how they fit into that eternal structure, the blueprint for which we were created.

The verses in Paul's letter that follow the one I've quoted above  - indeed the whole of that first letter to the Thessalonians - are a good guide to living the Christian life.  Thessalonica was the chief city of Macedonia.  It lay on the Egnatian Way, the principal highway of its day, stretching from Rome to the Orient.  As such, it was very much the centre of an international, cosmopolitan culture, and thus presented the infant church with a whole range of glamorous worldly temptations.  Paul was well aware of this, and sought to encourage the members of that infant church as each tried to deal with all these threats to a new life as a believer in Jesus Christ.

As the preparations for Christmas dominate your life in these coming weeks, you may be looking for a 'breathing space', some relief from all the commercial pressures.  I invite you to read this letter - it will only take half an hour or so - and ask yourself whether your life reflects what you say you believe ... or not.  Paul, and his friends Silas and Timothy, had a great influence on the Thessalonians because they not only talked the talk ... they walked the walk.

Does your life do the same ... or is just masking the view, like the leaves on the trees?

Coming

Regular readers will know that, in the years since his death some thirty years ago, I have gained an increasing respect for my father.  As I look back, it seems there were often disagreements – even arguments – between us but, as I get older and learn more about people in general, and the age through which he lived, I have come to realise (in modern terms) ‘where he was coming from’.  Although he paid no regard to formal religion, and went to church only for weddings and funerals, he left me a worthy example of right living, and a number of wise sayings.  There were many occasions, for example, when I chose to ignore his instructions or advice; sometimes he would say, with an air of irate finality coupled with desperate resignation, “There’ll come a time, my boy, ...”, and the sentence would remain unfinished, for me to add whatever fate my imagination might provide.

I was reminded of these words recently when I read from Peter’s second letter, “The day of the Lord will come like a thief” (2 Peter 3:10).  Peter had just issued a warning about ‘scoffers’: people who alleged, in effect, that religion is rubbish, that Jesus would never come back.  They claimed that life would go on unchanged as it had since the creation, conveniently ignoring the matter of the flood, when God destroyed all but a handful of his creation because of the evil that it had embraced (verses 3-6).  

In just the same way, Peter wrote, the new generation would also be destroyed on the day of Judgement.  But when will that be?  We don’t know.  What we do know is that it will be when we least expect it (Matt. 24:36-41). 

Peter was writing to a generation for whom Jesus’ life on earth was recent history.  His words are just as applicable in the twenty-first century.  Today, as then, we are tempted to listen to the ‘worldly wise’: people who tell us that, in this post-modern age, we’re wasting our time being ‘good’.  According to them, any chance of a Second Coming has elapsed: after all, it hasn’t happened in 2,000 years – it just won’t happen now.

However, God doesn’t work to our timescale (see Psalm 90:3-6); we shouldn’t confuse what we construe as His bad timekeeping with His patience. He wants every last one of us to come to Him in repentance (v.9).  Peter teaches that God’s patience leads to our salvation (v.15).  It is vital that we are always on our guard against temptation, as Peter says in his letter (v.17), but it’s not a matter for undue apprehension.  I invite you to use a prayer that, many years ago, I used to hear every week as I attended Mass with my young family.  Somehow it seems particularly appropriate for the season of Advent, which begins in a couple of weeks.

“Deliver us, Lord, 

from every evil, 

and grant us peace in our day. 

In Your mercy 

keep us free from sin 

and protect us from all anxiety 

as we wait in joyful hope 

for the coming of our Saviour 

Jesus Christ.”

I wish you a worry-free Christmas when it comes!

Poppies ... and Other Flowers

It’s coming: a weekend of military nostalgia, when we watch the Festival of Remembrance from the Royal Albert Hall, see the members of the Royal British Legion parading their navy-and-gold banners, and wear our poppies with pride.  But, nowadays, fewer TV viewers tune in to the Festival, the medals merrily bouncing on the chests of the legion were probably earned in Belfast, Basra or Helmand rather than Ypres or Passchendaele, Tobruk or Anzio, and we are confused about what it is that we are proud of as we pin that poppy to our lapel.

The history of the poppy is well-known.  When it was chosen as the symbol of the British Legion in 1921, many survivors remembered it as the only sign on life to be seen amidst scenes of utter devastation on the Western Front.  It was a reminder that life goes on, and that the Legion’s aim was to help survivors and the families of the fallen to cope with it in the years following the war.

Today, things are very different.  Many other wars have come and gone and, with the medical and surgical advances of the last century, there are proportionally far more survivors to be cared for.  The romantic images of the early twentieth century have given way to a different, and more immediate, picture of the human need resulting from war.

The idea of Remembrance with which past generations grew up, thinking fondly of those who were lost in war – or, as in my case, of uncles and cousins whom we never knew – and praising their bravery, has been transformed.  We now think of war as a concept, a terrible last resort for irresolvable international differences; we remember it in the sense of ‘let’s not forget that it still hovers spectrally in the background.’  Perhaps the poppy, with its specific historic origins, should be replaced by another flower: myosotis, the forget-me-not, which is already a symbol of love, of remembering a absent loved one.

Remembering is important.  Let me put it another way: forgetting is frustrating, sometimes painful and potentially damaging to relationships.  I’m reminded (pardon the pun!) of Forgetful Heart by my friend Lucy Mills (Darton Longman and Todd, 2014), the essence of which is neatly summed up in these words from the introduction: “I don’t just forget ordinary, trivial things.  I forget about who I really am, and what has been done for me.  I forget the One who made and redeemed me.”  In her book, Lucy explores the human tendency to forget, especially to forget God.

Poppies and forget-me-nots don’t appear in the Bible; indeed very few flowers do.  One that does is the lily, often associated with funerals, and devotion to a loved one.  The passage in Matthew’s gospel which includes the familiar words ‘consider the lilies of the field’ talks about putting God’s kingdom above all practical desires, safe in the knowledge that He will provide for our needs (Matt. 6:25-34).  The following note comes from a Greek lexicon by Louw & Nida, and is quoted from the NET Bible (http://netbibleorg).  “Though traditionally κρίνον has been regarded as a type of lily, scholars have suggested several other possible types of flowers, including an anemone, a poppy, a gladiolus, and a rather inconspicuous type of daisy.”

It’s interesting that the other flowers suggested include not only the poppy, but also the tall gladiolus, sometimes called sword lily named from the Latin gladius, a sword, very much a weapon of war.

Isaiah begins his vision of beauty by suggesting that “the wilderness will rejoice and blossom like a crocus” (Is. 35:1, NIV); other translations offer a rose (KJV) or a lily (NET).  A similar dilemma faced the translators when they looked at the Song of Solomon, where rose and lily compete once more as they try to express the supreme beauty of the lover by comparing the flower to the dull ordinariness of the thorn bushes. (Songs 2:1-2).

Perhaps the Good News has the edge; there the specific identity is subsumed in the simple ‘flower’, leaving the emphasis to fall on the absolute perfection of God’s Kingdom.

As you wear your poppy this year, don’t be confused by its meaning, but think of it as one of a whole posy of flowers, strewn in our path to remind us – like the variety of support provided by the Royal British Legion to the service community - of the richness of God’s provision for us all, here and in the hereafter.

Structured

I recall that, in the days when I attended worship in the Methodist Church, the steward introducing the morning service would often use the words “There are no additional notices this morning.”  It puzzled me; I wondered, ‘if there’s nothing to say, why bother to mention it?  Thinking further, maybe there is a purpose after all.  I had no idea then, and certainly none now, about what went on behind the scenes, but it seems likely that there was a check-list.  Successive items on this list might be, ‘mount rostrum’; ‘are there any additional notices?’; ‘introduce preacher’.  Put in this context, those words – apparently meaningless of themselves - are a reminder to us that there is a definite structure to worship, a framework that allows flexibility while ensuring that all the important items are covered.

Of course, our whole lives are structured in some way or other from cradle to grave.  Soon after we are born we have inoculations according to a health service record; legislation demands that we attend school between five and sixteen; the government aims that half of us or more will then go on to university; peer pressure and social convention directed us in our early years to join scouts, cubs, brigades, or some other youth organisation.  Then there are the laws of the land which govern our behaviour, discouraging us from theft, violence and breaking the speed limit.  We can’t escape structure in one form or another.

Our spiritual lives, too, conform to a pattern.  We are baptised when we come to faith ... or else as infants, later taking upon ourselves at confirmation the promises made on our behalf.  We meet weekly for worship: the writer to the Hebrews exhorted that the believers should “consider how we may spur one another on towards love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another ...” (Heb. 10:25).  We try to maintain a personal discipline of daily prayer and Bible reading and, if our lifestyle allows, we might also attend a mid-week social or study group. We each play as full a part in the life of the Church as we are able.  If we are called to some specific ministry, or even to ordination, then a prescribed path leads us through the appropriate training to that end.

There is even a structure which we can - and should - apply to our prayer life.  Our Lord gave us a template for our prayers: “This is how you should pray ...”, He said (Matt. 6:9ff).  How often do we chant this template as if it were, of itself, the ultimate prayer and consider our prayers ‘done’?  Instead, we should ponder its various clauses, and expand our prayers according to this recommended spread.

And a final thought, with the great feast of Christmas not far off.  Our Church year is structured, too.  As the seasons unfold, so one celebration logically follows another, each reminding us of some significant aspect of our faith, and together providing a variety of emphases for appropriate worship at each time of year.

So, next time you hear something apparently meaningless - like the announcement of no additional notices - question why this should be; perhaps you will be led to give thanks for God’s gift of a framework for life.

Freedom

It was Franklin D Roosevelt who first spoke about ‘four freedoms’ in his State of the Union address in 1941.  These were freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom from want and freedom from fear.  These values ultimately became enshrined in the establishment of the United Nations.  In other words, we can say what we like, worship who or what we like, however we like, and eat what we like without a care in the world.  Is freedom really as simple as that?  I don’t think so; the EU, for example, has four other freedoms that it holds dear: the free movement of goods, capital, services and people.

So what is freedom all about?  In 1989, just days after the fall of the Berlin Wall, at a performance of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony in that city, the chorus changed the words of the Ode to Joy from Freude (joy) to Freiheit (freedom) in celebration of the freedom that East Berliners suddenly had from an oppressive Communist regime.  The people of Aleppo would welcome freedom right now from the constant bombing and destruction all around them.  Meanwhile, after months of dangerous travel, lots of refugees have found freedom of a kind in Europe, a freedom to begin a new life away from the dangers of their homelands.

Jesus said, “...the truth will set you free.” (John 8:31).  Those who heard Him protested that they were already free, inasmuch as they were no one’s slaves.  The freedom He referred to was a far greater one than they could imagine, a freedom offered by the truth He taught, one that we can know through His death and Resurrection, a freedom from all the trappings of this world.  St Paul also compared the trials and tribulations of life in this world to the glorious freedom of the world to come (Rom. 8:18-25). 

Paul taught the Corinthians about freedom’s responsibilities in the context of what other people see and think about its use (I Cor. 10:23-33), and both Peter and Paul cautioned against wrong ways to use freedom: as a cover-up for evil (I Peter 2:16) and in order to indulge the flesh (Gal. 5:13).

FDR’s list falls into two pairs.  In the same vein as the above examples, he lists two freedoms from things.  It is our right to be free from want and fear, but our exercise of these rights depends on other people recognising them too, and allowing them to us.  The other two are freedoms to do things.  While the ‘freedoms from something’ are dependent on other people,  the ‘freedoms to do’ carry with them responsibilities to other people.  Our freedom to do things – speak and worship are only two examples – should only be exercised in a way that doesn’t deny some freedom to other people.

Many years ago I lived in a terraced house with a ‘flying freehold’.  There was a passage between my house and the one next door, which gave access to our back doors.  I owned the rear half of the passage, over which was part of my bedroom, and my neighbour owned the front half, over which was part of his house.  According to the deeds, each of us had rights to use the passage under the other’s house.  In the original Victorian ‘legalese’, we had the right to ‘pass and re-pass with bicycles and handcarts’.  Though we had the right, if either of us were to spend the whole night passing and re-passing with a noisy handcart, especially one with metal tyres or a wobbly wheel, I think the other would have had strong words to say about it in the morning!  Our freedom of movement had to be exercised with consideration for the other’s right of freedom from aggression.

Let me end with a final thought about truth.  Suppose you are asked to give an explanation for something and, to gain a supposed advantage, you make up an impressive but fictitious story.  Next time, you will have to remember what it was you said; if you are asked further questions, you have to add another layer to what you concocted before.  Soon, there is so much to remember you won’t manage it and you’ll give yourself away, having been imprisoned by your own fabrication.  How much better to have told the truth from the very beginning.  It may not have been the way Jesus meant those words, but the truth can set you free from a self-made prison!

Steps of Judgement

Over the years I’ve been accused of coming up with many a strange link in these pieces; perhaps this is one of the strangest.  My feet recently led me <groan> to think of Judas Iscariot.  Read on before you condemn the idea as total nonsense.

When I say that I love walking, what I really mean is that I like the idea of being in the open, with the sun streaming down around me, and a gentle breeze tickling my face.  In my imagination, I’m looking over a broad stretch of rolling meadowland to an historic village nestling in the woodland below.  The only trouble is that, to arrive at such an idyll, one has to walk.  My feet aren’t best friends with thick socks and walking boots.  They get sore and, through the lack of years of practice, my legs and ankles ache after just a short walk so, far from being the delight it should be, this is something of a challenge to be undertaken only rarely.

During Jesus’s earthly lifetime, there were no cars or cycles. He and his disciples walked everywhere: possibly barefoot.  We simply cannot comprehend a lifestyle like that.  For us walking is a leisure activity; for them it was a way of life that is beyond our modern understanding.

Now, like my feet and walking boots, the disciples were not best friends with understanding.  They had their problems; the gospels are strewn with phrases like, ‘Do you still not understand?’(Mat. 16:9), and ‘Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time?’ (John 14:9).  Words like this show just how far they were from thinking like their Master.  Judas was most spectacularly not on Jesus’ wavelength.  One line of thought says that Judas believed he was hastening the fulfilment of Christ’s mission by turning Him in to the temple guard.  In a sense he was, of course, but not in the way he expected.  So much so that he took his own life in remorse that he had so misjudged the Saviour of mankind.

The expression “Don’t judge a man until you have walked a day in his shoes” was quoted in the film ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’.  It is credited to the first century rabbi Hillel, but whoever originally said it, the words represent a caution that I find myself in almost daily need to remember.  Who am I to say that walkers are eccentric fanatics?  And who are they to say I’m a wimp for not following their healthy example?  After all, Jesus taught us, ‘Do not judge, or you too will be judged’ (Mat. 7:1).

By the way ... how did I do with that link?

"... their Heirs and Assigns"

As one whose hobby is genealogy, I was pleased the other day to discover that the TV programme Heir Hunters had returned for a new series.  Compared to most people, I watch very little television, but that is one programme that does command my rapt attention.  After many series now, very little of the actual heir-tracing techniques illustrated is novel, but each story is unique despite the common plot.

‘Common’ is a very appropriate word here because, while the plot (i.e. someone dying with no known family) is common to every programme, I fear that this has become a more common occurrence in our modern world than was the case perhaps as little as fifty years ago. 

It is an acknowledged myth that people only began to move far away from their birthplace in recent years; despite the distances involved, I believe there was far more regular contact within dispersed families a few generations ago than today.  Many and varied are the causes for this change in our behaviour.  While their analysis doesn’t properly belong here, high among these factors are surely the greater number of broken and dysfunctional families, the decreasing popularity of marriage as a spiritual bond, and simply the speed of modern life in general.

I felt somewhat unusual that, by the age of thirty – maybe earlier – I could recite the names of my four grandparents and of all fourteen of my parents’ siblings (even if not in the correct order!).  In biblical times, not only would this be a commonplace ability, but it would rank very low on the scale of such achievements.  I don’t imagine that the gospel writers were accomplished family historians, but Matthew and Luke could recite for us dozens of generations of the forbears of Joseph, a mere carpenter, and Mary his wife.

It wasn’t simply that the fame of Jesus had inspired research into his genealogy.  To all Israelites, the concept of heritage was important.  At the partition of the promised land by Joshua according to the instructions of Moses (Joshua chs. 13-19), it was important to know which family and clan was descended from which of Jacob’s sons, to determine who had the right to settle where.  After the return from exile in the time of Ezra, it became important to distinguish Jews from other nations and stress was laid on establishing descent from returning exiles (Ezra ch. 9).  Genealogy was important, too, to determine the right of certain families to act as priests (Ezra 2, esp. v. 62).

One of the fundamental characteristics of family life that has, to a great extent, disappeared in our modern age is care for our extended families.  For example, many of the deceased ‘stars’ of Heir Hunters are maiden aunts.  When traced, many an heir expresses sadness that they never knew of the deceased’s existence, and how much better it would have been to have known her while alive, rather than share in her wealth now she was dead.

From the earliest days, the Israelites were told to respect their parents.  The fifth Commandment given by God through Moses was that they should honour their fathers and mothers (Ex. 20:12); the instruction that a brother should marry his dead brother’s wife (Deut. 25:5-6) had more to do with the preservation of the family line but was also, nevertheless, an indication of the responsibility to care for other family members.  This duty had been carried down the centuries, for it was referred to by the Sadducees when they questioned Jesus in the Temple (Matt. 22:25).

We all like a good family story, whether it is on TV, like Heir Hunters today, or The Waltons in times past, or in one of a myriad of popular novels.  But is there someone not too distantly related to you, for whom you have an unexercised duty of care?  Although not the best of motives for care, it could result in you being named in a Will; far more importantly, it could bring untold light and richness to a lonely person’s days, and – who knows? – it might help to reverse a sad trend in modern life!

Tempest-tossed?

Sunday lunch was over, and the washing-up done.  James and Moira were sitting quietly in the lounge.  Moira was knitting; James … just sat.  Moira was used to this regular weekly scene.  It was a pattern that had developed gradually over thirty years of happy married life.  She asked James what he was thinking as he relaxed in the late spring sunshine streaming through the window.  Although not at all dissatisfied, she wondered whether there were something else they might do with their afternoon.

“Thinking?” he replied, drawing thoughtfully at his pipe.  “Yes, I suppose I was.  Do you know, that hadn’t occurred to me.”  He paused, as if the idea of actually doing something – even so simple as thinking – were quite alien to his frame of mind at that moment.  “I was just taking in the wonder of life: the garden planted, the children settled at last, we’ve no money worries ... there’s just the two of us, happy here together.” 

*  *  *

God was in His heaven, and all seemed right with the world.  That word picture might have been penned forty or fifty years ago; somehow it seems less likely that it’s a 21st-century situation.  Look with me at the ‘prologue’ to the story of Job in the Old Testament (Job 1:1-5).  Here is a word picture from another, distant, age but one that bears comparison to James and Moira. Like theirs, it couldn’t happen in Britain today.  A family of ten is rare in the first place, and what rich man today would count his wealth in terms of the number of animals he owned?  However, in his own time and culture, clearly Job had ‘made it’.  Little did he know what was to come.

Sitting in his lounge on a Sunday afternoon, James, too, was clearly mesmerised by the very successful tranquillity of their life.  But we know only too well what dreadful illnesses, what financial catastrophes, what human disasters can lie just around the corner from a peaceful life today.

In the hurly burly of modern life, we rarely have time to step back from life like James and Moira, and just take in its magnificence.  Like them, you might feel that some past trouble is now overcome and you can look forward to a time of ‘plain sailing’.  Or are you like Job, well aware of God’s part in your life.  He was fearful that his sons might have been sinful in their celebrations, and was anxious to make reparation to God on their behalf (v.5).

In the light of the New Testament, we know that we don’t have to pacify God.  That debt has been paid – once, for all – by Jesus’ death and resurrection.  But it is good to give God the credit for all that He has done in our lives.  Try, if you can, to sit quietly for a few moments, turn aside from those worries and pressing matters, and think instead of the many ways – ways we often taken for granted – in which God has blessed your life.

The name Johnson Oatman Jr. may not be known to you.  Born in New Jersey, USA in 1856, he was a Methodist minister and, like the famous Charles Wesley before him, he was a great hymn writer.  Before he died in 1922, he had given some 5,000 hymns and songs to the church.  Perhaps one of his best known is “When upon life’s billows”.  You can find it on the internet at www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/c/o/countyou.htm).  Look it up now, and ‘count your blessings’ this summertime.

Licensed

I grew up suffering from low self-esteem, a lack of confidence that could easily turn to frustration.  Uncertainty about self-expression could lead me to say something incomplete or offensive and not at all what I sought to convey.  

When I became a Reader, these frustrations were relieved ... almost overnight.  Suddenly, I was able to stand in front of a congregation, many of whom were much older than me, to lead and teach them.  I had been given ‘permission’; I felt I had authority to do and say these things ... I had the Bishop’s licence.  As I look back, I’m still amazed at the way that single sheet of grey paper had changed my behaviour.

In his letter to the early Christians, the apostle James wrote about the power of little things.  He used the example of a small piece of metal placed in a horse’s mouth to control it.  He referred to the rudder steering a great ship and a tiny spark setting a forest on fire (James 3:3-5).  As the song says, “Little things mean a lot!”  James went on to talk about the tongue, another very powerful little thing!  He described it as a restless evil, full of deadly poison (v.8).  I certainly couldn’t tame mine in those younger days!

Later, when I was no longer in ministry as a Reader, confidence left me to some extent.  I could stand, apparently chatting in a group, but spend the whole time listening, contributing nothing at all for ages.  I was hesitant and found it difficult to put the right words together; by the time I did, the conversation had moved on.  

And when it came to action, ... !  I remember with shame sitting in my parked car in the street after seeing an old man fall down on the pavement.  I waited and watched as someone else came and helped him to his feet.  It was as if I was paralysed by the thought of doing something caring and practical.

I’ve recently noticed a change in my behaviour.  Not suddenly, as if the result of therapy or the side-effect of new medication, but gradually over a period of some months.  For the second time in my life, I’ve become more open, more willing to engage with other people.  Take, for example, an incident  when I was shopping the other week.  I noticed a woman trying to balance her basket of groceries on the handles of a pushchair.  The basket fell, spilling the contents on the ground.  Without thinking, I sprang forward to help her gather them up.  Only a few months ago, I would have retreated into an adjacent aisle in ‘mind-your-own-business’ mode.

In the church hall, while chatting over coffee earlier this year, my eye caught some young children playing on the edge of the stage (somewhere that children shouldn’t go).  I went over to encourage them to stay off the stage, and engaged a nearby teenager to keep an eye on them.  A year ago, such a quasi-parental move wouldn’t have crossed my mind.

What’s caused this change in me?  A word comes from the past in a new guise:  licence. 

Last autumn, I was invited to take on the role of the church's Health & Safety Officer.  I realised that, with retirement already partially upon me, it would be a worthwhile use of some of my ‘spare’ time.  Although having no past experience, I accepted and began to ‘learn on the job’.

When the annual ‘gifts and skills’ form came round, I repeated my usual commitments to lesson-reading, leading prayers and so on, but then wondered what else I could help with.  I noticed the rota for giving lifts to church to those in need.  I could tick that one.  There was also a box for helping with special events; I could move chairs, set up tables ... another tick.

It’s as though a simple ‘Yes’ and a couple of ticked boxes have moved a mountain.   Through the ‘authority’ they have given me, new doors have opened up and  I’ve engaged with many people who had previously been beyond the limit of my conversational ambit, bringing fulfilment to their needs, and a new level of involvement and fellowship for me.

A little further in James’s letter comes the statement, “the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective” (James 5:16).  Maybe someone noticed my dormant state and prayed for me.

Is there some little thing in your life that needs a tweak to release your potential?

No Turning Back!

In these times of political unrest and upheaval, and apparently irrevocable change, my thoughts turn to a piece I wrote under this heading many years ago.  I had just replaced the van that I used for my work.  I had covered over 141,000 miles in the old one, a Renault, and in that time I’d got to know its foibles, reluctances and shortcomings very well.  At the time I was writing, I was getting used to its replacement, the first of a sequence of Vauxhalls that I would drive for the next ten years. 

Whenever you change from one vehicle to another, you notice the differences between the two and I found myself thinking, ‘I used to have room there for such and such,’ or, ‘this is awkward; it wasn’t so much trouble before.’  But I soon realised that there were reasons for things working the way they did, and benefits that accompanied those apparent ‘quirks’.  I found that, to get the best out of the new van, I had to follow the intentions of the manufacturers, and do things their way ... revising my own habits as necessary.

St. Paul found that the people of Corinth had much the same problem regarding this new religion he had foisted upon them.  Corinth was a busy commercial hub in the ancient world; a major seaport and trade centre, it was the most important place in Achaia.  Like any cosmopolitan city,  it had become the focus of a variety of cultures and a wide mix of beliefs and moral attitudes.  The new converts to Christianity were trying to combine their new faith with all the ways of life and pagan rituals they’d been used to.

Paul addressed some of these matters in a letter to them, pointing out that, although they had been ‘washed … sanctified … justified’ (II Cor.6:11), in many ways their behaviour was no different from what it had been before.  In other words, they hadn’t learned the rules of the new management; they were still trying to work the old system, or in the terms that I was thinking then, still trying to use the old van.

Forgive me for making a reference here to my own background in a farming community.  From time to time notices would appear in the local paper about a forthcoming ‘Drawing Match’.  Competitors would try to plough (or draw) a furrow across the field as nearly straight as possible, and winners might expect to deviate by only millimetres over a distance of several hundred metres!  This recollection illustrates a very telling comment that Jesus made when it came to following the ‘Way’, as the early church was known.

Someone had undertaken boldly to follow Him wherever he might go.  Jesus’ response to him hinted at some of the difficulties this might entail.  He invited others to follow Him, who offered family excuses for hesitation or delay.  He told them “No one who puts his hand to the plough and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:62).  His hearers would understand the importance of looking forward when ploughing; they could also relate such an attitude to the need to keep focussed on the way ahead if they were going to change the course of their lives.

We would do well to follow the same principle: if we adopt the ‘Jesus label’ for ourselves, we must apply it to every part of our lives, not contrive some adaptation to accommodate some of the more tasty elements of a past life.

Those Returning ...

We’ve recently been studying in church the book of Nehemiah, who was called out by God from His people who were exiled in Babylon.  He sought the permission of the King and, with his blessing, returned to Jerusalem with the aim of rebuilding the city.  Nehemiah and the group who went with him faced all kinds of opposition, every stage of which, we found, had lessons for our lives in the 21st century.  Once their mammoth task had been completed, Ezra the priest read the words of the Law to the people (Nehemiah 8:1-9), who then realised just how far their former behaviour had fallen short of what God required.

The re-establishment of a way of life and forms of worship and devotion last practised nearly a century and a half earlier was a staggering achievement and, while not forgetting their shame and regret at this latest discovery, Nehemiah told them to go and celebrate this special day (8:10).

We are living through a whole season of special days and commemorations just now.  2016 alone is a year of important centenaries and, with 70th or 75th anniversaries of important events in WW2 intermingled with these, we’re on something of an emotional roller-coaster.  To those who were involved, whether directly or indirectly, they bring deeply-felt emotions.

Many other events are cause for annual remembrance.  I’ve heard it said – and have no reason to disbelieve it – that the first year after a bereavement is the worst, as the date of each happy occasion passes in the knowledge that it is now remembered alone.  I attended a funeral service last week, and I expect that that widow will follow the same emotional cycle.

Not all such events are sad ones, of course, although they’re often times of heightened emotion.  Many, though, are times of farewell.  Some communities are subject to constant change, seeing newcomers arriving to take the place of others who have left or passed on.  Examples that come to mind include mission stations, military bases, prisons ... and church families.  At this time of year, it is quite possible to see deacons being priested, ordinands being created deacon, and new vocations preparing to begin training ... and all within the same congregation!

Now that the exam season is over, and the end of the school year is nigh, the memories of many of us turn to our own schooldays, or those of our children.  Something brought to mind the other day a hymn that we sang at the end of each school year.  Written by Henry James Buckoll (1803-1871), the words run as follows:

Lord, dismiss us with Thy blessing,
Thanks for mercies past receive;
Pardon all, their faults confessing;
Time that’s lost may all retrieve;
May Thy children
Ne’er again Thy Spirit grieve.

Let Thy father-hand be shielding
All who here shall meet no more;
May their seed-time past be yielding
Year by year a richer store;
Those returning,
Make more faithful than before.

That final plea, ‘for those returning’ brings us back to those people who heard Ezra reading from the Law.  They were reminded how sinful they and their ancestors had been; in the words of St Paul – echoed in the lines of that hymn – how far they had “grieved the holy Spirit of God.” (Ephesians 4:30.)   Some of the pupils singing that line might have had similar feelings as they would shortly take home reports revealing lower that ideal grades.  They might echo that plea to be made more faithful than before!  The people of Judah certainly did (Nehemiah 10:30ff.).

The latter verse of the hymn has always been the more poignant and personal to me.  It heralded goodbyes for only a few weeks for ‘those returning’; for others, on their last day within these walls, it offered a prayer for their protection and that they would make good use of all they had learned as they moved to career or university.  For some of them it would be the last time they would see each other for perhaps fifty years or more, or until someone should organise a reunion; for some the farewell would be forever.

Is this a time of poignant farewell for you?  What are your prayers just now?

A Stitch in Time

Most of us spend a good part of our lives watching TV or listening to the radio.  Often the programmes that we enjoy are interrupted by advertising.  At the end of June, the time is coming when we will see advertisements for department stores, which may well begin, “School’s out!”.  Such an announcement will be followed up by the invitation to “do your ‘back to school’ shopping now, so you can holiday with peace of mind.”

Last time I saw such an advert, my mind went back to my days as a parent of young children and, with some cynicism, I told the screen, “not if the little perishers grow in the meantime!”  To buy clothes in June, only to find by late August that they’re too small, would be folly indeed, and far from giving peace of mind.

How typical this is of our whole lifestyle in the 21st century.  We try to pull things out of season, whether shopping for certain goods before we really need them, treating children as ‘little adults’, or simply wanting fresh fruit and vegetables on our shelves all the year round.  The success of these strategies is only ever partial; at best it’s only short-term, and it can often be completely transitory or illusory.

Many centuries ago, a philosopher wrote, “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1, KJV).  There is a right time for every aspect of life, and the writer tells us that this was part of God’s plan.  All the topics covered by the succeeding verses are appropriate at certain times.  The secret to finding peace – and with it, satisfaction – is to discover, accept and conform to God’s timing for them.  If we follow this, all well and good; if not, we shouldn’t be surprised when things go wrong,

Whether it is buying too soon for a new school year, seeking produce that has ripened on the other side of the world, or making a major purchase on credit before we can properly afford it, we do these things at our own peril.  Often the repercussions of our actions impinge upon the lives of others as well as, or instead of ourselves, and it’s only after suffering the consequences, directly or indirectly, large or small, that we can look back and see the error of our ways.

In due time, says the philosopher, God will judge everything: good or bad (v.17).  It’s a warning we would do well to heed – even though it was made so long ago – because (to paraphrase his words) “what goes around, comes around” (v.15).

Cluttered

I think my beard must be over thirty years old, maybe a little more.  I’ll never forget my astonishment when the lady in the works canteen told me that it made me look younger!  I didn’t believe her then and, however many times I’ve thought of it since, I still don’t understand what she meant.

One thing I do recognise, though, is the need to keep it trimmed and tidy ... and that’s not just for appearance’s sake.  I remember a time when I acceded to a request to stop shaving and let it grow down my throat, and a time when I just didn’t bother to trim it at all, wondering just how long it would grow.  There have also been times when I’ve gone for ages without having a haircut.

In each case, there was a sense of being uncomfortable, feeling scruffy ... almost unwelcome in 'polite' company, like a tramp.  Eventually, what some would call common sense prevailed, and, instead of the untidyness, I knew the refreshment of being neatly trimmed again, a positive feeling of being crisp.  It was as if my cutting edge had been restored and I could once more command the world around me; I was ready again to tackle whatever life would throw at me.

I think there’s a strong parallel between these experiences and losing contact with God.  I’ve been fortunate that that’s something I’ve never known.  There were times when I rebelled – who hasn’t? – but it was a rebellion against a church, or a way of worship, or some aspect of discipline with which I disagreed; never against God Himself.

Rebellion isn’t the only cause of loss of contact with God, though.  Two particular parables that Jesus told come to mind.  These can both be found in Matthew’s gospel, chapter 13.  First, there was the story of seed sown in four types of soil, representing four different responses to the Good News of salvation that Jesus brought and taught.  One of these was the seed that was sown among thorns.  He explained that “the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful.” (v.22).

In the second parable, good seed was sown and started to grow; then weeds appeared around it, their tendrils becoming so entangled with the wheat that to pull them out would endanger the wheat as well (vv.22-29).  It is good for Christians to be involved with the world around us.  But there is always the risk that our involvement with those interests apart from our faith can eat into our lives to the extent that our attendance at church (where we can receive teaching, enjoy fellowship and where our spiritual store can be replenished) becomes intermittent.  Life gets to a stage where our daily pattern of personal prayer and Bible reading is threatened ... or perhaps never happens at all. 

Unless we take matters into our own hands, responding to God’s never-failing call,  or asking for a friend to pray for us, the result can simply be that God is squeezed out completely.  Remember that He doesn’t force Himself upon us: “I stand at the door and knock.  If anyone hears my voice and opens the door ...” (Rev. 3:20).  It’s for us to respond to His call.  If we choose not to do so, the loss – and the responsibility for it – is our own.

Next time you see a man with a beard, be it a ‘full set’ or just designer stubble, remember the story of my scruffiness; remember what it stood for in this posting, and ask yourself, “Is there some clutter in my life that needs to be tidied up or cleared away?”

Corners

GPS navigation systems don’t know everything, whatever we might think.  There’s a roundabout near my home that has four exits, albeit not evenly spaced; one goes into the town, one out, and the other two around it in opposite directions.  There is also the entrance to a private house which opens onto the roundabout at one of the larger spaces between the conventional exits.  SatNav shows this as a conventional five-exit roundabout.  And I’ve lost count of the presumably regular crossroads that I’ve driven up to, thinking as I approach that it’s only a T-junction.  Only when I’m right up to it can I see that it’s actually a staggered crossroads, and the ‘forward’ road is some distance either to the right or left.

Sometimes life itself seems to be a sequence of staggered junctions.  I well remember a friend and former colleague who, on the brink of moving to another part of the country, had to cancel all her plans because of a last minute glitch in the purchase of her new home.  Instead of bidding her a fond farewell, I found myself helping her to move from her now sold home to a short-term rent in another nearby town.  

Often, as life unfolds, one thing or another isn’t quite right.  When the right opening is there, we have other commitments; by the time we have released the necessary funds, the deadline for an investment opportunity has passed; or we may see the ideal vacancy ... but just don’t have the aptitude the advertiser is looking for.  I call it the polythene bag syndrome.  As you flatten one corner, a pocket of air bulges up at another corner; it seems it will never be completely flat. 

Somehow in life our skills and resources and the demands and openings for them never seem to match up perfectly.  We can only take heart from Paul’s words in the letter to the Romans, “All that happens to us is working for our good if we love God and are fitting into His plans.” (Rom. 8:28, Living Bible).

One advantage of the staggered junction is that we are able to see, at a more leisurely pace, two sides of that charming cottage on the corner, and its delightful garden, instead of just the front gate had we passed it by at speed on a straight road.

And talking of corner sites:

Do you know what's around the next corner for you?

Bellropes for Breakfast?

The butter was on the toast, but there was no marmalade; the jar had been emptied yesterday.  As I reached for a new one, I thought about what was on my plate.  On its own, toast is uninviting; buttered toast is far more appetising.  But toast with butter and a spread – be it jam, marmalade or something else – is complete.  With no spread, or no butter, it only partially satisfies.

The new jar popped open, and I wondered where this thought might lead me.  The obvious first analogy was the Trinity, the triune God at the very heart of our faith; but I quickly saw that this parallel is false.  This doctrine is an explanation of three facets of one Being, whereas the trinity on the breakfast plate is three totally separate items brought together to make a greater whole.

Some days later, with this problem still floating around my head, I found myself ‘on the end of a rope’, as I often put it.  As a bell-ringer, I’m familiar with ropes, their purpose, structure and strength, but rarely when ringing do I think of these things.  To use a comparison often used when teaching people to ring, I’m more concerned with steering the car than the construction of the engine!  But on this occasion, I was aware of the rope in my hands, and the fact that its strength is partly due to being made of three strands.

I recalled a sermon I’d heard at the wedding of a bell-ringer many years ago.  The priest had taken as his text “Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” (Ecclesiastes 4:12).  He quoted this verse to make his talk personal to the couple before him and then broadened his theme using the three preceding verses.  It’s a fast-moving passage, embracing the financial benefits of working together, the helping and caring aspects of having a partner to look after you and the heating properties of sharing a bed, before moving on to introduce a third party.  In the context of the wedding, the trio were identified as husband, wife and God and, thereafter, the conclusion of the sermon was self-evident.

As ever in these pieces, I try to relate the everyday to the spiritual; today there are two links for you to latch on to.  Many in the western world begin the day with breakfast and, whether you have three or more cooked items on a plate, or buttered toast with some spread, I’m sure you can see the parallel with adding a divine Third Party to your normal consideration of teamwork.  And although there may be few bell-ringers reading this, many of you will have heard bells and have perhaps realised that many bells are sounded by means of pulling a rope ... often a rope of three strands!

Who’s the third party in your life?

For or Against?

Occasionally you can remember a dream quite clearly because it conveys to you an important message.  This one of mine goes back many years, but its message is so relevant today.

I was questioning a selection of local dignitaries as part of the preparation for a ‘Brains Trust’ performance where one of the panellists would be {Mr. ‘X’}, a local politician.  Two of the questions were these: “Would you like to meet {Mr. ‘X’}?” and “Would you be prepared to talk to him about the deputy-master relationship?”  I hadn’t heard the expression ‘deputy-master relationship’ prior to this dream but I think its meaning is obvious.

Most people I’d asked had readily answered ‘yes’ to both questions.  One man responded aggressively to the first question: “No, I don’t want to meet him, I don’t particularly like the man.”  Then to the second came a blunt and very forceful “No.”  I pointed out that everyone else had said ‘yes’ quite willingly.  He realised that his manner belied some foreknowledge of the celebrity and explained - off the record - why he had refused.

“A few years ago,” he began, “I was standing in for my boss at an important meeting.  One of the matters being discussed was a new scheme put forward by your celebrity.  I was in favour of it and, knowing this, he was confident that, with my support, it would be approved.  However, I was aware that my boss disagreed with the proposal so, since I was deputising for him and not attending the meeting in my own right, I spoke in opposition to the motion and voted against it.  The matter was dropped and, as a result, the man lost popularity and quite a bit of money.  He’s never forgiven me.”

It could happen anywhere.  Life is full of situations where there are conflicting pressures, what are popularly called ‘difficult decisions’.  Some, like public spending cuts or remaining in the EU, are resolved at a single stroke affecting the whole nation.  Others, like choosing between going to church and relaxing in the garden, or between paying our tithe and buying those smart new shoes, are matters for the individual.  I make a personal decision which, although perhaps swayed by what my neighbour might say or do, will affect only me.  I can do what is easy, what fits in with my personal interests or desires, or I can opt for what, in my heart of hearts, I know to be the right thing to do.  In one case my life might be easier, or more enjoyable; in the other, I might be uncomfortable, ridiculed or even persecuted, but I should have an easy conscience to rest on.

As he followed in the footsteps of ‘Moses, the servant of the Lord’ (Joshua 1:1), Joshua had to make many difficult decisions and was sometimes uncertain whether the people would respect and be led by him as they had Moses.  Perhaps one of the greatest decision he made is recorded in Joshua 24:14-15, “As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

May God guide the decisions you have to make today.

Fruity

Once you’ve enjoyed that hearty meal, you might reckon a pudding too much and feel some relief at being offered the fruit bowl instead.  Whether that’s you or not, I think you’ll agree there’s something very attractive about a well-laden bowl with the bright colours of bananas, grapes, oranges and those lovely rosy apples. Whatever fruit we choose, though, to be enjoyed most it must be grown in ideal conditions, picked at just the right time, packed properly, and transported carefully. 

In our delight at the juice and fine flavours, it’s easy to forget that these examples are only part of a far greater process ... that of life itself ... a process that mirrors our spiritual lives as well.  The Bible is quick to expand the meaning of fruit: as early as the first chapter of Genesis, in fact, where verses 28-29 draw out the contrast admirably.  The big picture comes first, “Be fruitful and increase in number”, and then God’s provision for our bodies, “I give you every seed-bearing plant ... and every tree that has fruit with seed in it.” 

In one of his most famous verses, St Paul listed what he called ‘the fruits of the spirit’ (Gal. 5:22-23).  Jesus talked to his disciples about good fruit coming from good trees and bad fruit coming from bad trees; he warned them about false prophets, and told them that these could be recognised by their ‘fruit’, i.e. by their behaviour and what they said (Matt. 7:15-20).

Paul concluded his list of spiritual fruits with the exhortation, “Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.” (Gal. 5: 25-26).  Transporting this into the vision of the fruit bowl, we can draw the conclusion that, if we are to successfully offer good fruit, then we have to look after those we possess and also to exercise regularly the act of sharing them.

Before my recent retirement, it was often necessary to have lunch while on the way somewhere and bananas offered the best combination of nourishment and convenience.  However, having done my shopping at the weekend, by Thursday or Friday they were noticeably much older; the lovely firm flesh of Monday had given way to an almost liquid and easily bruised mush that wasn't nearly so tasty.  I wouldn’t have felt comfortable offering fruit like that to anyone!

If we choose to neglect our fruit – whether material or spiritual – there are serious consequences.  The book of Deuteronomy explains over and over the laws God gave to the Israelites in the desert before they entered the Promised Land.  It lists the many disasters that would befall those who ignore His commands, including “You will have olive trees throughout your country but you will not use the oil, because the olives will drop off.” (Deut. 28:40). The Hebrew nashal refers to the olives dropping off before they ripen; Jesus told a parable about making use of what we are given (Matt. 25:14-30), which illustrates these consequences perfectly.

Think  deeply, dear reader: what do you have in your fruit bowl?

Beyond Your Wildest Dreams!

We hear it often, but how wild are your dreams?

If they’re anything like mine, they can be quite scary ... more of a nightmare. Several times I’ve dreamed that I was with someone who figured prominently in my past.  I’ve been quite sure who she was even though, considered independently, neither her face nor the style and colour of her hair match those of historic fact.  Whatever it was that made me so positive about her identity is lost in the depths of sleep but I have no doubt that, when that dream returns, I shall be just as certain that it’s the same person.

Some say that dreams are heavenly messages, like those we read of in the Bible that often feature the appearance of angels.  While I wouldn’t discount this possibility, it’s my understanding that most of our dreams are simply a random accumulation of snippets from a variety of episodes in our lives - both recent and long ago - that the resting brain somehow allows to drift to the surface.  If there is any coherence or apparent story to these, as likely as not it's woven by our wakeful minds around those particular aspects of the dream that we remember at the moment of waking.

An endless store of human experience is to be found in the Psalms.  I’m drawing on two particular extracts here.  “How many are your works, O LORD! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures” (Ps. 104:24).  Succeeding verses tell of God’s creation of animals, the sun and moon, and living things swimming in the seas; I like playing with words and this verse reminds me that the earth, and all that fills it, is God’s creation.

Another psalm asks, “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there” (Ps. 139:7-8).  God is all-embracing; He is everywhere.  Even if sometimes we don’t acknowledge it, we can’t avoid being in His presence.

It’s usually at the times when we don’t give a thought to God, and His desire to be involved in our lives, that things go wrong.  We make wrong decisions, follow bad advice, and so on.  The hymn What a friend we have in Jesus, which includes the line ‘take it to the Lord in prayer’, is usually sung to the tune ‘Converse’.  So, conversely, if we bring our needs to Him in prayer, He will provide for them in whatever way is for our greatest good.

Back to dreams, then: the whole of life’s experience, stored away in our memory, is available to our sleeping minds.  From this rich store come the components that make up our dreams.  Similarly, the whole of our life is God’s creation and subject to His influence if only we will allow it.

Next time you wake up with a dream still in your mind, try to think beyond its content, however wild, and remember the greatness of God’s place in your life.

Loving and Liking

If you’re anything like me, there are many people in this world, in your town - possibly in your own street - that you don’t like.  Maybe they have a bad reputation, perhaps you’ve seen them behaving badly, or you might even dislike something about them that you would never refer to in public, such as their race or sexual orientation!

We are conditioned to think of liking as a mild form of loving.  Let’s begin in the dictionary, where we find “like: verb, find agreeable or enjoyable or satisfactory; choose to have, prefer.” “love: verb, feel deep fondness for; delight in, admire, greatly cherish.”  So, there is some justification for that view of one being a  more intense form of the other.  But ...

In the Gospels, ‘love’ is found with either ‘God’ or ‘Jesus’ some 40 times.  Only twice is this not in the context of love either by or for the Divine; these are in the two accounts of the parable of the servant who had two masters and ‘loved the other’ (Matt. 6:24, Luke 16:13).  Substitute ‘like’ for ‘love’, and the number of incidences is halved but, more significantly, all but one of these is descriptive, e.g, ‘like a child’, ‘like a dove’ and so on.  The only exception is ‘sir, we would like to see Jesus’ (John 12:21).  None of the Biblical examples shows ‘like’ as an emotion between two people.

I feel justified, therefore, in claiming that the emotion to which Scripture exhorts us is to love, and it is the same love that God has for mankind ... all of mankind.  Liking is altogether different, and I’d say that the dictionary’s definition of finding something agreeable is not far from the mark.  If we look at some of the folks with whom we share our living space and find them ‘not agreeable or enjoyable’ because of how they look or smell, or what they do, then that’s no more than a matter of preference.  It’s part of our God-given individuality that we enjoy some things and not others. 

What is important is how we treat them.  Jesus tells us to ‘love one another ... as I have loved you’ (John 13:34), and the issue is really how we express that love.  The challenge is to treat those we don’t like the same as we treat those that we do, and whose company we do enjoy.  If we do things for our friends, smile at them and joke with them, we should be no less willing to treat that refugee family or the smelly tramp on the street corner in exactly the same way.

Next time you see one of those people you don’t like ... you don’t have to feel guilty about not liking them.  But remember that God loves them, and ask how you can express to them that duty of love.

Upstairs Downstairs

To most people who don’t live in a flat or a bungalow, it would be something of a challenge to count how many times we use the staircase: dozens of times in a week, probably millions in a lifetime.  We take it for granted that some things are - by convention or habit - ‘upstairs’.

You may remember the TV series ‘Upstairs Downstairs’.  It was set in an age - still just within living memory - when social convention presented more distinct definitions of these words.  In larger houses the rooms where the householder and his family spent their time were ‘Upstairs’ while ‘Downstairs’ meant the lower part of the house, the province of those of lower degree who made the whole operation ‘tick’: the housekeeper, the cook and the general servants.  There was even a ‘between stairs maid’, whose duties involved some tasks in each sector.  It was a time of definite social structure: those in each class knew their own place and knew where to find the other class.  If you were summoned to speak to the boss, you went to the important part of the house, you went ‘upstairs’.

The Jews of Biblical times knew that God was to be found in the Temple.  Indeed, one part of the Temple was so steeped in God’s presence that only the priests were allowed there ... and that only on special occasions.  It was called the Holy of Holies (Hebrews 9:3).  In His earthly ministry, Jesus turned many earthly conventions upside-down, and this was perhaps the greatest.  “Where two or three gather in my name,” He said, “there am I with them.” (Matt. 18:20).  When Jesus was no longer with his disciples, the Holy Spirit came to be with us constantly (John 14:26).

In that famous hymn ‘Immortal Love, forever full’, John Greenleaf Whittier wrote, “We may not climb the heavenly steeps to bring the Lord Christ down.” On the face of it, these words might indicate a prohibition, suggesting that we aren’t allowed to go ‘upstairs’.  But if you find these words in a hymn book, you will see that they are followed by an equal futility of searching the lowest deeps for our Lord, and the next verse explains that, rather than our being forbidden to search for God, we have no need to search.

Through the Holy Spirit, God is with us already; all we have to do is acknowledge His presence.  Later in his hymn, Whittier refers to a miracle that Jesus performed (you can read about it at Mark 5:25-34) when he reminds us of the closeness of God’s healing power, using the words, ‘We touch Him in life’s throng’.

We can know God’s presence in every part of our lives ... even those countless times when we’re going upstairs and down!