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.

Outside the Box

Do you remember the furore a couple of years ago over MP's expenses?  Something brought this to mind recently, and I thought again about my reactions to the scandal.  When I trained as an accountant many years ago I learned the importance – nay, necessity – of recording every last penny in its proper slot.  I also remember the Inland Revenue’s mantra about business expenses – that they are only allowable if incurred “wholely and exclusively” in the course of business activity.  I won’t bore my readers by attempting to apply these criteria to moats, duck-houses et al.  Suffice it to say that I found it hard to comprehend how some of these claims could have been made ‘by accident’, and yet, unless we accept that virtually all of the country’s MPs are crooks and fraudsters, such accidents have to be believed, at least in some of the examples that have emerged.

 I’m sure some of you receive regular mail from missionary societies.  Amongst mine I frequently see references to the difficulties faced by MBBs – Muslim-background believers.  Often these people are cast out and completely spurned by their families and friends.  Either they have to keep their new-found Christian faith completely secret, or they risk persecution or physical harm at the hands of their former fellows: Shari’a, the Islamic law, prescribes a death sentence for any Muslim who leaves the faith.  For anyone who has not suffered it, it’s almost impossible to envisage how terrible life must be if it has to be lived under such restrictions.

In each of these examples, if we are to have any understanding of what’s going on, we have to stretch our imagination, and try to think ourselves into someone else’s circumstances.  In the modern idiom, we must think outside the box.

When Jesus was brought before Pilate, indeed through all his examinations, by the Sanhedrin, by Pilate and by Herod, Jesus saw everything in the context of His purpose for coming to earth. “The scriptures must be fulfilled,” He said (Mark 14:49), “You will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One” (Mark 14:62).  He acknowledged that He was the Son of God (Luke 22:70), and ‘King of the Jews’ (Luke 23:3), but He offered no defence against the charges that were made against Him (Matt. 27:12-14).  If we were in that position, I’m sure we would want to offer some contradiction, to explain the ‘real reasons’ why our actions had suffered this misinterpretation.  Not Jesus.  He understood what was going on.  He could see that the Jewish leaders were incapable of rejecting the legal rigmarole that had grown up over the preceding centuries – it was the only culture they knew: how could a mere carpenter’s Son have the power or knowledge to overturn it?

It may not be written in our Creed, but aren’t we all obliged to copy Jesus’ example so far as we are able?  If we could only try to see everything from other people’s viewpoint as well as our own, I’m sure all kinds of relationships would be the better for it.

Stepping up to the Plate

It wouldn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to tell from a glance round my room that I’m right handed.  The coffee table is on the right hand side of the armchair, for example, and the lamp is on the left hand side of the desk so that I can see what I’m writing.  You can imagine my anxiety and dismay, then, (not to mention the pain!) when, late one evening, I lost my grip on a heavy piece of metal and, on its way to the ground, it jammed my right thumb against the floor of my van.  As I drove home awkwardly, my imagination was running wild, thinking I had probably broken the thumb, at the very least.

After a night of disturbed sleep, I made my way to the kitchen with the thumb still throbbing.  Then came the inspiration for this article.  I cannot recall a definite thought process that said, ‘the right thumb is injured – I shall have to use the left hand to open the coffee jar.’  I know it could have been that I was only half awake, but my first awareness of anything unusual was looking down to see the jar gently clutched between my right hand and my chest and the left hand grasping the lid with serious intent.

With the coffee successfully made, I adjourned to the armchair for my prayer time.  Here, amazingly, the prescribed reading was from I Cor. 12, where St Paul writes about the various parts of the body and their inter-dependence.  My eye was drawn to verse 25, “its parts should have … concern for each other”, and as I linked this to my recent experience in the kitchen, my memory took me back to my days of singing psalms in a church choir.  Later, a few moments with a concordance revealed Ps. 139 vv.13-14: “You knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”  I felt I’d had certain evidence of the marvel of God’s creation, as my left hand, aware of the predicament of his opposite number, had instinctively stepped forward to fill the gap in the early morning team.

And what does this not uncommon sequence of events have to teach us at a wider level?  Surely it should convince us of our responsibility, as members of Christ’s body, the Church.   We should not only be willing to take on duties that may be requested of us, but also be aware of what is going on around us, and be ready to step forward and offer our services when we notice that someone else is temporarily incapacitated.  How much more welcome is the offer of help that embarrassment or uncertainty might prevent us requesting!

The thumb wasn’t broken, by the way.  After a couple of days it stopped hurting, a large black blob on the nail gradually grew out, and today the incident is all but forgotten: John 9:3b applies, perhaps?

Level Crossing

Centuries ago, before stamps were invented, you had to pay the postman a sizeable sum to receive a letter.  Today, however, life has been transformed by electronic communication.

There seems a definite progression in audience size: from e-mails are sent directly between people; through Facebook, where comments are shared among invited friends; to Twitter, where observations are spread to a wide community of self-selected followers.  Some of these communities can be large, well into the tens of thousands.

Perhaps this is an over-simplification, but these different levels might reflect particular layers of society.  Twitter users include politicians, broadcasters, celebrities and businesspeople (so what am I doing amongst them?), while Facebook users tend to be social groups – whether formal or informal – or people with a common interest.  And when it comes to e-mail ... well, anyone who wants to communicate more easily, quickly and cheaply than using the post!

In His earthly ministry, Jesus addressed Himself to all strata of society.  He related to His disciples, to Jewish leaders, tax collectors, reformed prostitutes and sinners of all kinds; to the sick and the healthy, the old and the young, and to a multi-married woman beside a well.

Writing to the Romans, St Paul goes to great lengths to explain that when it comes to salvation there is no difference between the Jews and the Greeks.  Jews thought themselves superior to everyone because, traditionally, they were God's people; the Greeks (meaning here those of any nation who spoke Greek) thought they were superior because they were the world's cultured élite.  Paul explains that, “there is no distinction, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.  But they are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.  God publicly displayed him at his death as the mercy seat accessible through faith.” – Rom. 3:22-25, (my italics.)

God’s gift of redemption, the death of Jesus and His Resurrection that we celebrate this month, are for everyone, for everyone from – in the words of Cecil Frances Alexander (the writer of “There is a Green Hill”, which we may well be singing in our churches this month) – ‘the rich man in his castle’ to ‘the poor man at his gate.’

So, when you send your next e-mail, update your Facebook status or tweet your followers, think of the many layers of people you might be addressing, and pray that each might be touched by God’s love this Easter.

Seventy Loaves and no Fish

In my prayers this morning, I was moved to give thanks for John.  He's one of my fellow drivers; let me tell you something about him.  He's just a little younger than me, born and bred in the northern suburbs of London.  He started work as an apprentice motor car engineer, and is often called upon by the rest of us to explain what's going on under our bonnets!  He's been working as a courier for many years now, and takes a great interest in the people around him, sometimes to the point of annoyance, as he interrogates departing drivers to know where they're going.  Often it's somewhere he's been to himself, and he's anxious to offer helpful advice on such aspects as where to park, which door to use, etc.

John is married to Dorothy, a health service worker, and is devoted to her, to their two sons, and their wider family.  There's nothing he wouldn't do for them, wouldn't provide for them if it's within his power - even though the sons are both well-established in their own right, and earning far more than he is!  In idle moments he often regales us with stories of what they've been doing, or reminiscences of family holidays, etc.

Yesterday John did a job for one of our customers who is a major bread distributor.  The assignment was to correct a delivery error to a retailer in Oxford, replacing seven trays of unrequired loaves with seven trays of the right type.  Owing to a quirk of economics, our customer determined that the value of the misdelivered bread was less than the additional charge for returning it to the depot.  Consequently, John was told that they didn't want the bread brought back to them, "You can either have it yourself, or leave it where it is!"  With innate co-operation, John took the unwanted bread away from the retailer, who obviously didn't want it, now that he had what he'd ordered in the first place.  Having set off homeward with seventy loaves of bread, he began to wonder what he should do with them.

After calling in to his home, where he left just a few loaves for his and Dorothy's use, John decided to bring the rest to the office where they could be shared among his friends and colleagues.  As the trays were brought past me, John invited me personally to help myself.  I explained that I had need of only one small loaf at a time, since a larger one would go mouldy before I could use it all.  I only have a small freezer and that is virtually full with a variety of other things.  Once the trays were on the office floor, and the situation outlined, willing and greedy hands descended upon the loaves to bring relief to John's problem.  Out of nowhere, it seemed, supermarket carriers had appeared and large piles of bread were being accumulated on desks, behind chairs, anywhere where their new ownership could be established and maintained.

Now John is not a practising Christian, but when he saw with dismay and anger the greed that some of the staff exhibited, he was distressed and turned to me, "Can't you do something?" he stammered, "Doesn't the Church know of some poor people who might need bread?  Anyone but these greedy so-and-sos.  I wish I'd never brought it in if they're going to grab it all like that!"  I confess that, when the situation had first begun to unfold, a similar thought had flitted into my mind, but I'd let it flit out again with equal rapidity.  Only now, in the face of John's angst, did my conscience gain the upper hand, and after a quick phone call to the vicar, I was able to load the remaining two trays into my van and take them directly round to the vicarage.  By now they will be in the hands (or freezers) of needy parishioners.

As I reflected on yesterday's events in the cold light of this morning, I am shameful that, without John's prompting, Greed and Selfish Desire could have been allowed to triumph once more.  Why didn't I pay immediate attention to that worthy thought that I'd so quickly rejected as 'not my business', or 'too much trouble'?  What is it they say, "For evil to triumph it only needs good people to do nothing?"  As I give thanks today, on behalf of whoever has received one or more of those twenty loaves, for John and his generous anger, I put to you the important question, "Is there a John in your life, who may not share your beliefs, but who might be the trigger for the active expression of yours?"

What's Your Addiction?

I was at a meeting last autumn where the speaker invited his listeners to imagine addiction.  We were encouraged to exhale, and then see how long it would be before desperation forced us to breathe in again.  Not surprisingly, the room was soon filled with the sound of loud gasps as, one by one, we discovered our addiction to fresh air, to the oxygen that our bodies constantly need to keep us alive.  It was at this point that one of our number commented that we were desperate, but not in despair, and our thoughts digressed to a deeper consideration of these words, in order to see just what he meant.

Although they’re from the same root, there is a distinct difference between them: almost like cause and effect.  My dictionary defines despair as ‘the complete loss or absence of hope; a feeling of hopelessness’, while desperate is ‘reckless from despair; violent or lawless; extremely dangerous or serious; very bad; needing or desiring very much’.  In other words, while ‘despair’ is related to hope, ‘desperation’ goes far beyond this, and refers to the results of not having any hope.  So we can see that the drug addict is desperate for his next fix, and appreciate that much of the crime we see reported in the media is the expression of this desperation.  My friend’s point was simply that, while we were desperate for air, we were not without hope of getting it, because all we had to do was breathe.  Furthermore, since this was a Christian gathering, we also shared a far more serious hope, that found in our common Faith.

Our speaker’s aim had been that we should consider just how desperate we are to know God in our lives: how important His presence is to each of us.  It was suggested that if we were really desperate, then our faith would find outward expression, and the force with which we had all inhaled during our ‘test’ had proved a good illustration.  We were referred to Psalm 63, where the first eight verses give us a wonderful word picture of despair.  David was fleeing from Saul, who was hunting him down to kill him, and he yearned for the comfort of God’s protection and provision (I Sam. 23:13ff.)

Thoughts turned to what ought to be the expression of our desperation for God during the coming Advent season   As I recalled that meeting to refer to it in this article, I thought of potentially good lives that have developed in the wrong direction, ruined by the intrusive effects of addiction, and my mind went to John 15:1-4.  Are there things in our lives to which we are in some measure addicted?  Are they the right things?  We can say that we’re ‘clean’ through our underlying faith, through our regular prayer and worship, but are there distinct parts of our lives that we should be offering to the Gardener’s pruning knife?  What is making you less fruitful for God than He would like you to be?  Maybe now, as we ‘wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Saviour’ is the time to do something about it.