southparade's posterous

The Crunch Question

We are almost at the end of our Essential Jesus Bible reading programme. Right through it has been leading to the crunch question from Jesus: ‘Who do you say I am?’ When he first asked this question in the Bible there were a lot of popular ideas around. The average view included talk about him being a good teacher, or a re-incarnated prophet, or John the Baptist come back from the dead. Jesus invited his followers to take a step beyond the average.  ‘The others say this, but who do you say I am?’ Eventually one of them blurted out that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the Living God.’

 

Jesus was asking his followers to ‘come out’ in terms of their spirituality. The decision to follow Christ inevitably affects how I feel about myself. It determines how relationships are to be developed. It risks a certain re-positioning in society and among family and friends. It is a deeply personal issue and it marks the intention to live a particular lifestyle which others may regard as quaint, foolish, even objectionable, but one which is biblical and the fulfillment of God’s creation intentions for us.

 

Facing the reality of the Jesus we confess isn’t always easy. When the apostle Peter made his confession he found he then had to handle Jesus’ prediction that as Son of God he would die on the cross, and then that he would rise again from the dead, an idea that many of his contemporaries found silly or impossible.

 

When you say Jesus is the Christ you take on the historical and spiritual reality of that, including his death for our sin and his rising again. You cannot have a reduced package to avoid embarrassment or offence. When Peter tried to object that this was not the right way for Jesus he found himself being bracketed with those who think like Satan. In an abrupt way he discovered that you cannot say ‘not so’ to the one who is Lord of all.

 

Jesus presents his followers with some difficult ideas. For example, he said ‘Except a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies it cannot bear fruit’ meaning among other things that if we want to proceed with real faith we need to let go of any other options we might believe could help us, including the idea that we can save ourselves. We are challenged to make a choice, either to remain wedded to this ‘sinful and adulterous generation’ and continue to be ashamed of Christ, or to trust Christ for that which has an eternal future.

 

So we are back to the crunch question: ‘Who do you say Jesus is?’

 

Step beyond the average.

 

Brian

Waiting

When I was at Theological College it was assumed that we would all go to see the absurdist play 'Waiting for Godot' by Samuel Beckett. Absurdist because it belongs to that type of writing which focuses attention on the perceived meaninglessness and purposelessness of life. On that very basis I refused to go. Of what help to me could two tramps be who wait for someone who never turns up? I was told that this was a powerful metaphor for how many people experience their quest for God - an absurdist wait for an absentee Being who cares nothing for them. I still refused to go!

This is not to say that I have always found God easily and without interruption, but after half a century of faith I've learned that even when I cannot feel him near or work things out this does not mean that he is absent or that my faith is absurd. 2 Peter 3:8 tells us that:

'With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.'

In my impatient youth this felt like a feeble excuse for what I though was unanswered prayer, and a rather casual avoidance of the question as to why Jesus Christ had not returned as promised in the Bible - 'In God's eyes it's only a couple of days. Be patient!'

Now I'm older, and the days flash past all too quickly, the depth of Peter's writing becomes more and more relevant. First, there is the basic reminder that however long it takes for God's answers to come this is not evidence for Divine absenteeism. The truth that 'time is in his hands' remains however long the wait. Second, this is not grounds for absurdism. Purpose and meaning remain at the heart of all things, both in the experiences of the moment and in the unfolding millennia of history. Third, let's be thankful for God's patient waiting for us as we stumblingly learn to follow.

Tom Wright, commenting on Peter's letters, notes:

'The patience we practice in day to day relations with one another must be translated up to the cosmic scale. God will indeed bring upon the whole world 'the day of the Lord' ... But he will do it in his own time. And that doesn't mean that we simply have to sit around and twiddle our thumbs. What appears to us (in our impatient moments) as God's delay is in fact God's moment of fresh vocation. There are tasks to do in the meantime.'

Brian

Who said the church was dead?

As part of our Essential Jesus series we've been looking at the churches in the book of Revelation. Times were very hard for them, and there were loads of reasons why they might want to give up. Down the ages local churches have often felt like that, but in spite of what opponents think of us, we don't lie down that easily.

The Philadelphian letter captures it well:

Since you have kept my command to endure patiently, I will also keep you from the hour of trial that is going to come upon the whole world to test those who live on the earth. I am coming soon. Hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown. Him who overcomes I will make a pillar in the temple of my God. Never again will he leave it. I will write on him the name of my God and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem, which is coming down out of heaven from my God; and I will also write on him my new name. He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. (Revelation 3:10-13)

                                

The world view that threatens to smother the church and remove it from sight is not the last word. John is asking, ‘where does true power reside?’ As John through Revelation couples the real world scenarios of these struggling churches with a serious of other-worldly visions of heaven he invites a faith answer to the question, 'Who is sitting on the throne of power, and therefore, who is truly worthy of worship?'

To help the believers to make up their minds, he offers them heaven’s view of earth. Though they often feel as if they are lost in a pagan environment, forced to face the gods of Rome, instead they become vividly aware that heaven is speaking to them. There is a wide open door into the throne room of glory. Hastily the earthly powers are trying to close it. But it’s a door that no one can shut.

The church at Philadelphia knows what it must do. God is holding this door open and this is their moment to enjoy its opportunities.

In contrast, the church at Laodicea didn’t like the draught, and so got the cowboys in to put up a makeshift door on their side, on which the Lord now knocks seeking entry into the lives of any who will respond. 'Behold I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with them and they with me'.

It's not just churches that are put down and feel like giving up. Most individuals do sometimes. But each of us is offered an open door if we will come to Christ by faith - a way forward that transforms this life and opens eternity for us. Even when we've put up the shutters to keep the view of Christ out, he still knocks.

The handle is on our side. It doesn't take much to turn it!

Brian

It's my choice

So it's local elections this week. Do I want an elected mayor for Leeds? And while I'm at it, which person will I choose to be my local ward councillor? I think I know the answer to the first - but I'll leave that for you to guess. The second question is a bit more tricky. I have fairly strong political views which will probably be the decider in how I vote, but as I read the election material I have to admit that there is not a lot to choose between the three main candidates. None stands out as impressive, and all do a fair amount of rubbishing of the others without being clear about their own policies. It's my choice of course, so I'm not sure why I'm telling you.

When it comes to Jesus of Nazareth, to me it all feels so much more important. In Mark 8:31-37 he asks his followers to cast their vote. Who is he? Is he worth following? 'Who do you say I am', he asks. Others have compared him to the other candidates - a reincarnate John the Baptist, a new Elijah, one of the prophets. To be a true disciple is to come out with it and say, 'You are the Christ!' This is not a casual title. It goes with an understanding of his divine status as Son of God, and with a world view which ultimately sees all authority being given to him, and all things being put in their proper place by and through him.

If the majority vote for an elected mayor it will cost the city a lot of money, and will change the way council affairs are conducted. In the meantime my life will probably carry on much the same. If control of the council moves from one political party to another because of the choices the voters make it may mean that some council services are eventually delivered differently. There will be winners and losers. But my life will go on largely unaffected.

To put my allegiance with Christ has already irrevocably changed my life, and goes on doing so. Being the Christ meant that he travelled the lonely road to a cross where he suffered and died for my sin and the sin of the world. To start with I am forgiven because of Jesus' death for me. He calls me to take up my cross and follow. His effect on the world does not happen somewhere 'over there', behind the doors of a council chamber, but begins in me and in the way I choose to live because of the new start he has given me.

I take my right to vote seriously. But the vote I place for Jesus Christ is profoundly more serious, and has eternal consequences. Who do I say he is? It's my choice and I need to make it well, every day.

Brian

 

 

The real Lord's prayer

The Gospels are very sparing in their accounts of Jesus' prayer life. Occasionally we are allowed to overhear snatches of his conversations with his Father. He retreats to lonely places several times, but we don't get to eavesdrop on those times. Then there's what we call the Lord's Prayer (Our Father) which is comprehensive in its scope but brief with words, foundational to our prayer life but leaving so much unexplored.

And then there is John 17. It's not part of Gethsemane's anguished cries of 'not my will but yours be done'. They come in the next part of the narrative, although John himself leaves the telling to the other writers. It is however very much a part of the closing hours of his life before the cross. Many commentators describe it as the real Lord's prayer. It's the longest recorded prayer of Jesus, and what is deeply encouraging is that it is almost all about his followers, and by implication a prayer for us today. Put simply, 'Jesus prayed for me!' Wow!

Assuming that the Son of God always gets answers to his prayers, what should I be looking out for as the Father responds to him? Here are the highlights:
  • Unity - which holds us together in the Father's name. If this prayer is granted, then why don't I always feel drawn to other Christians? Why do they sometimes get on my nerves? Is it me, being non-cooperative with the God who makes us one?
  • Joy in full measure - so why am I so often a miserable individual who gets grouchy at stuff and hates too much fuss?
  • Safety in God's hands in the face of evil and danger. Assuming God is no butterfingers, presumably my lack of feeling safe at times is to do with the appalling choices I sometimes make, colluding with evil and ignoring guidance. Assuming he is holding me securely it can only be my terrible wriggling about that causes me to fall.
  • Holiness. Problems in this area may be to do with my misunderstandings about holiness and the temptation to turn it into a set of 'oughts' and negatives. Or is it because I quite like sinning?
  • A sight of God's glory. Do I not glimpse God because I keep playing hide and seek with him? I'm reminded of the many chapel buildings which have pillars holding the roof up. It doesn't matter where you stand to preach there's always someone who manages to tuck themselves out of your sight-line behind one of these pillars. In one place I moved several times to allow a man to see me better. Each time when I looked up he had sneaked out of sight again. Is this my problem with God?

Lord, thank you for praying for me. Help me to enter into the answers already prepared for me.

Brian

Get a grip

Advocacy is a powerful ministry. The opportunity to speak up for someone else is a great privilege and responsibility, especially when that someone has little or no voice.

The man at the centre of Luke's story (Luke 5:17-26) hasn't a leg to stand on. His voice is unheard because of a paralysing illness which many would deem to be the result of some unnamed and unconfessed sin. As the crowds flock to hear Jesus he remains firmly outside, powerless to seek help.

That is, until his friends decided to take him in hand. No words are needed in this kind of advocacy, but each one of them has an individual responsibility to get a grip. A firm grip! I assume there were at least four of them, one for each corner of the man's mat. If one lets go, the man tumbles into the dirt. At worst, as they transport him up the stairs to the roof he might be left to crash down and sustain even more serious problems that he already has.

Sometimes we speak about glass ceilings; invisible and impenetrable barriers beyond which we cannot go. Without an advocate to break through we remain stuck. This story has a very visible solid mud and straw roof, just as impenetrable to a man with serious mobility difficulties. His advocates are not deterred. It's not their house and there is bound to be trouble to follow, but this roof must not be allowed to get in the way.

When the man is finally and safely deposited at the feet of Jesus in the room below we are introduced to the most profound part of the story. This guy needs an advocate before the Father in heaven. His sins must be forgiven. Perhaps for him the use of his legs seems more useful - and Jesus gives him that - but in the big scheme of things his spiritual reconstruction is of far greater value. 'Friend, your sins are forgiven!'

I am deeply encouraged to know that I have an Advocate before my Father in heaven, One who 'ever lives to make intercession' for me. This same Jesus challenges me to be an advocate for others: to hold my corner firmly, bearing my share of the load; to dig through the roofs and ceilings of prejudice and rejection; where I can, to work to fix it for others, and where I can't, to be a loyal and reliable member of the team in which others take the lead; to carry people where it matters, even to the feet of Jesus, our great Advocate before the Father.

The song writer catches something of this corner-holding ministry:

 

I WILL SPEAK OUT for those who have no voices,

I will stand up for the rights of all the oppressed;

I will speak truth and justice,

I’ll defend the poor and the needy,

I will lift up the weak in Jesus’ name.

I will speak out for those who have no choices,

I will cry out for those who live without love;

I will show God’s compassion

To the crushed and broken in spirit,

I will lift up the weak in Jesus’ name.

 

(Dave Bankhead, Sue Rinaldi, Ray Goudie & Steve Bassett. Copyright © 1990 Word’s Spirit of Praise)

 

Brian

There’s only one Judas

Everybody was on edge that night. Judas in particular was unable to settle or meet anyone’s eyes. The foot washing episode had been a nightmare. Thank goodness Jesus had concentrated on Simon Peter. John, who had not liked him from the start, kept looking in Judas’s direction, as if he knew his terrible secret. As for Jesus, there was no doubt that he knew.

Tonight’s private party had been the obvious place for a kidnapping, but with the arrangements remaining secret till the last minute he would have to bank on Jesus doing his usual walk up to Gethsemane. The arrangement with the temple authorities and priests had been almost religious in tone – a communing together leading to a covenant to deliver Jesus over. A covenant with Satan, the great accuser. Thirty pieces of blood-money silver.  

Judas stuck it out for almost all of that emotionally charged meal, according to some even receiving bread and wine. Then came the moment of exposure. ‘The hand of him who is going to betray me is with mine on the table’. Had it not been for the anxiety of everyone around Judas would have been outed there and then.

There was only one Judas, only one son of perdition in all of history, and our hearts go out to him as he slips out into the darkness of his own soul. We want to know whether he will ever be forgiven. We will never know. What we do know is that it could have been a me or a you, but it wasn’t. We might deny Jesus, and we are often feeble about following him. We harbour guilty secrets, strands of unbelief, flashes of rebellion and anger against God. But Judas, we are not. Jesus continues to invite us to come to him.

While Judas was rehearsing his own dreadful drama, a sub plot was being played out amongst some of the others. Simon Peter had managed to conceal a sword about his person. One of the others has got one too. After all that Jesus had done in demonstrating the arrival of a peaceful Kingdom this was no longer satisfying to the young idealists. After everything Jesus had taught them about servant leadership, they still end up with an agenda to do with power and authority, control and status. One that lacks trust. It’s only afterwards that we realise that he didn’t want swords at all. ‘That’s enough’ is what he said. ‘Behave yourselves.’

If there was only one Judas, and it isn’t us, there is also only one Christ; only one way of salvation. No sub plots. No modifications to the plan. It’s tough and sometimes we feel like lashing out at someone, but swords won’t do it. We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against spiritual rulers and authorities, against the powers of darkness and against the spiritual forces of evil. The only sword that matters is the sword of the Spirit, the one that points to Jesus.

At a purely human level the story is one we might all find some comfort in. A human being like us, he suffers like us, but gets through it. But is his suffering and death any worse than ours? We can quickly name others who humanly speaking have apparently gone through greater physical and emotional agony than anything described here. The amputee from Helmand province; the victims of state organised rape and torture; the Holocaust millions... and individual friends and family members ravaged by wasting disease or reduced to a shell by dementia.

What makes Jesus’ death so special?  As we continue through Holy Week you might want to consider the following:

1.      If as the Son of God he undergoes the full human experience of rejection, suffering and death we can at least say that God knows what it’s like to endure our pain. This is not the remote love of the kindly, but distant uncle whose life is largely unaffected, but of one who has entered into the real stuff of life.

2.      The Bible suggests that he is carrying in himself the pain of the spiritual alienation and separation that took place when humanity first fell away from grace. The shudder that ran through the universe on the day that Adam and Eve said ‘No’ to God shakes the divine Being.

3.      He is carrying the consequences of that separation in himself. He who has known nothing but a perfect relationship within the Trinity is being driven asunder from his own Father, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ 

4.      Simon Peter who thought a couple of swords could fix it later writes in one of his letters: ‘he himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed.’

He is facing down the powers of darkness. As Judas jingles the coins of betrayal in his pocket, Jesus Christ hears the jangling laughter of Satan, the great accuser. As Simon Peter prattles on about swords and undying loyalty, Jesus hears the distant and discordant crowing of the demons celebrating another victory for the darkness.

It is in this awesome context of incredible mystery and disturbance that Jesus has offered bread and wine even to Judas, inviting him and all of us to enter by faith into the privilege of atonement. One Judas, two swords, three denials... but beyond all that a mighty host, more than anyone could count, able to worship before the Lamb of God and feast in the Kingdom of God because of Jesus Christ our unique and only Saviour.

Brian

If it’s you, tell me to come.

(Essential Jesus Day 59 Matthew 14:22-33)

 

The boat was now a considerable distance from the land. He stood at the rail, a frisson of fear running down his spine. It wasn’t the sea so much as what had just come out of his mouth.  He was a seasoned sailor, physically strong, well used to coping… but they’d just seen a ghost and in their terror had tried to turn away when it had called to them to be of good courage. But this ‘it’ looked like Jesus. For Peter, the storm that was raging without was now also raging within because he had rather rashly responded by saying he would walk on water if it really was Jesus!

 

That’s how God’s call tends to work: we find ourselves in the place where we are supposed to be (in Peter’s case, a fisherman in a boat), we sense the presence of the living God and then we commit ourselves to a personal response. It’s only in the response that we discover it really is him. The trouble was that Peter knew that Jesus would take him at his word.

 

The voice rang out across the troubled waters of Peter’s soul… the voice that could speak to thousands, still storms, order demons into submission and penetrate tombs. Clear as a bell: ‘Come!’

 

He vaulted the rail, a practised swimmer who had often gone over the side to untangle nets or save a man overboard or drag the boat up to shore. He was expecting to sink, already breathing in deeply and ready to swim for his life. That’s how most of us do calling – we sense God speaking and we respond by organising how things should now progress. Peter hits the waves with a thud, a solid non-yielding, bone jarring thud. You don’t do water that way!  It is a common experience among Christians that when we assume that what would happen was this it ends up being something quite unexpected.

 

Nobody walks on water of course. So how is Peter doing this? In a sense he is standing on the word of God to him: ‘COME.’

 

There are many reasoned arguments to explain this miracle away. There were hidden rocks. There was an underwater shelf. It didn’t really happen. It was only a metaphorical story. Usual stuff! I’m happy to believe it as a fact. Jesus walked on water and for a few brief moments so did Peter. There are times when there are no explanations and you simply have to take things at face value – standing on the promises of God. Someone once helpfully said that you have to invest in God’s promises to reap God’s harvest.

 

Matthew records that Peter saw the wind, panicked and began to sink. There’s something odd about that. You cannot see the wind as such. So Peter had taken his eyes off Jesus, whom he could see, and been influenced by the wind, which he couldn’t see.  And he bellowed in terror.

 

Suddenly Jesus had caught him, a typical response to the cry of doubt-filled faith (or faith-filled doubt). You could imagine a man like Peter trying to bluff his way out… the shame of being found out in all his weakness...’ I wasn’t really afraid; I was only kidding’. But he didn’t pretend. The joy of discovering that you are held by the One who in love never takes his of you is worth owning up to. Peter, with all the others, worshipped him. The wind died down

And they reached the place where they were heading.

 

This is not the story of only one man’s faith, but it’s about the whole people of God, sometimes feeling adrift and battling against contrary winds and distressing waves, and yet called and loved and held through the storm. We are people learning to blurt out in faith, ‘If it’s you, tell us to come to you, even on the water.’

Brian

It's not fair

Yesterday it was the Budget. George Osborne unveiled his latest scheme to reduce the UK deficit and manage the economy. As suspected, one of his proposals has been to reduce the tax burden on the rich to ‘stimulate’ the economy.  There is some comfort for the less well off in the raising of the tax threshold. Pensioners may be worse off. Taking all things into account the poorest are again likely to be left behind. Experience shows that it is rare for there to be a genuine redistribution of wealth so that the poorest really do benefit. 

It wasn’t a budget speech he was giving; just a simple parable of a generous landowner with a new approach to the sharing of wealth. As Jesus begins the story (Matthew 20:1-16 – Essential Jesus Day 52) the crowd draw closer. Those among them who gathered in the Market Place each day waiting for someone to hire them perhaps wondered whether he was going to offer a solution to their plight. Employers became a bit tense. Hiring casual labour was such a hit and miss affair. So many people seemed to want something for nothing. Jesus had a track record of turning stories like this against the better off, but if only he understood how difficult it all was.

The story moved to its climax. The workers who were last in opened their pay packets. A whole day’s pay for one hour’s work! How good was that! Those who had worked longer must have thought that this was their lucky day – on this kind of hourly rate they’d soon pay off their debts and even have some over.  But one by one smiling faces began to crease with disappointment and then anger as each received exactly the same regardless of the hours they’d put in.

We’re not told much about the audience reaction, but we can guess what a 21st Century response might be. Local union activists would immediately begin to incite the crowd. Those with an understanding of employment law and labour relations would be searching their documents for precedents and procedures. Employers would become stuck on the exorbitant wages paid to the one-hour employees. How could such even-handedness be fair? Isn’t wealth the territory of those who have proved their worth?

And isn’t the Kingdom of God for those who have shown themselves to be suitable and worthy?

Answer: No! The Kingdom of God is about the rule of God. Where God’s rule is fully accepted and lived out everyone is given what they need for their daily provision. Whether you work a full day or just an hour, you need the same basic resources in order to live. Imagine a UK budget worked out on that basis. Daily provision is a gift from the hand of the generous landowner and should be available to all regardless of status or qualifications. It certainly does not mean tax breaks for the rich and reduced benefits and means testing for the poor.  The opportunity for service is a gift too. Some have the opportunity and the choice to do many things. Some do not. All should be thankful for the opportunities they have and be helped to take them.

Jesus’ really big point is that acceptance into God’s family and the granting of salvation is not about who got there first, but is a free gift of God. The proper word is ‘grace’. Something we don’t deserve and cannot earn. It will mean that from a human perspective it all looks terribly unfair. It does imply that those who seem last minute losers, outsiders and disadvantaged, will find themselves ultimately first in the provision of God’s kindness.

But you can’t manage the economy on such a basis. Where would it all end? The rich might end up losing out. The poor might get ahead of themselves. And those in the middle – how would they manage?

Jesus obviously thought you could do it. George, are you listening? 

Brian