A Walk With Jesus

In Spring this year, I had a most marvellous experience, an encounter with Jesus such as I've never known before – or since, for that matter. I was out with the dog, a yellow Labrador retriever (somewhat more unruly than she still is) and coming down with a cold. The problem was, my Dad was soon to arrive and the last thing I wanted to do was to pass on an illness that he could well do without at his age and so far from home. 

So, I started to pray, 'Lord, please take this cold away; I desperately don't want Dad to get it.' There was a check in my mind and I went off in a different direction, as my mind sometimes takes me. 'I've never known you cure a common cold, Lord, so how on earth will you get me out of this body when I die and put me in a new one?' Yes, my mind is often that weird. Actually, it's a question I've pondered on a number of occasions, and never with a satisfactory answer. Will God upload me somehow just as my body's last outward breath kicks in, store me in some vast, heavenly data bank, then download me into a new, everlasting model? Or will the essence of me emerge into a new realm, like a leaf bursting from a germinating seed? Who knows?

Anyway, as I gazed down the wooded path that stretched out before me, my mind flipped again. What will it be like to meet Jesus? I imagined him walking down the path towards me. I thought I wouldn't look down as though ashamed to be in the presence of one so holy because there would be something very intimate and welcoming about our meeting. And suddenly it was as though he was actually there. In my mind's eye, I looked on Jesus in wonder, and he looked back at me, smiling. I became captivated by that imagined smile, and understood in some measure the wonderful extent of his acceptance of me. I felt no compulsion that I should throw myself to the ground and worship. I was in the presence of a friend who loved me, and who had turned out especially to welcome me. He was delighted to see me and I was thrilled to see him. (In my mind's eye, I said, this was not a vision of Jesus.)

Then there was another change. For the next 45 minutes or so, I walked on in the almost tangible presence of Jesus—not in heaven but here on earth, there on that wooded path. What began as a flight of fancy was now an encounter with Jesus, and I revelled in the company I was keeping. I bet we've all thought or said, 'When I meet Jesus I've got a whole load of questions I want to ask him.' I found myself pushing that idea away. I didn't want to ask him anything (even though I have a whole host of questions), I was just enjoying being with him, walking along beside him: him, me, and an unusually well-behaved dog. 

I've tried since to relive this experience, to invoke the same sense of presence, but I cannot. It seems to have been a one-off, special gift. Nevertheless, it helps me to understand the reality of his presence with me here and now, even when I am unmindful of it, and that I do not have to strive to get his attention. It enhances my sense of belonging to the family of God, and that I am welcome, any time. 

I'm looking forward to meeting him for real.

Wealth, Worry and Nuclear Physics

Readings

Matthew 6:19-34, Luke 12:13-21

Introduction

Wealth!  “You can't take it with you.”  That's what they say, isn't it?  I had an uncle whose life-story was a classic rags-to-riches tale.  His usual response to that expression was, “I've no intention of going!”  Sadly, he had no choice in the matter in the end.  When he drew in his last breath, he was a very wealthy man but, when he finished breathing it out again, he had absolutely nothing: he took not a penny of it with him.

Another uncle of mine used to say, “Money can't make you happy but at least you can be miserable in comfort.”  And I suppose there is some measure of truth in that...

In the passage we read from Matthew, Jesus draws our attention to what really matters in life.  He challenges attitudes which are just as prevalent in today's society as in New Testament times, and shares the secret of how to make sure we have something to take with us when we go.  I want to examine Jesus' words using a framework of three simple questions:

• What's your heart set on?
• What's on your mind?
• What's your priority? 

What's your Heart set on?

There are all sorts of reasons why people amass wealth and possessions.  Some just seem to have a knack for it, and everything they touch turns to gold.  For some, it's about status: their wealth says something about them; they are important.  Apparently, the Pharisees thought their wealth was God's reward for their keeping his laws.  For them, wealth said, “I am righteous, and it is plain for all to see.”  For yet others, it's about security: if they have plenty, they can buy themselves out of difficulties.

Whatever reason we may have for getting rich, Jesus makes the point that our worldly possessions are very unreliable.  They can decay, they can be destroyed, they can be taken from us.  In a way, Jesus himself points out to us that we can't take our worldly wealth with us and that one day, like my uncle, and like it or not, we have to go!

He brings into focus the fact of heaven and that our eternal security is of far greater importance than any safety we may secure for the few short years we are here.  Treasure on earth will fail us; only treasure in heaven will endure.  In the passage we heard from Luke, Jesus tells us that real life does not consist in an abundance of possessions, and that to be focussed only on this life is a very serious mistake.

Verses 22 and 23 in Matthew 6 have something to say about what our attitude to possessions reveals about the condition of our hearts.  These are strange verses in a way, talking about eyes and light the way they do.  Let me read them again, using alternative renderings that bring out some more of the meaning in the original Greek.  “The eye is the lamp of the body.  If your eyes are generous, your whole body will be full of light.  But if your eyes are stingy, your whole body will be full of darkness.”  The eyes of the person who holds on to this world's goods only lightly are open, letting in light.  The eyes of the greedy, possessive person are narrowed and keep the light out!  Grasping at wealth will damage your health!

Wealth itself is not a bad thing; it's a neutral thing that can be used for good or bad.  But it cannot and must not be the focus of our lives.  People who are intent on having wealth probably take the view that their wealth serves them, enabling them to get what they want.  Jesus however turns that idea on its head.  “You cannot serve God and money,” he says.

How do you become a servant of money?  By making it the thing you live for it becomes your idol.  But there is only room for one God in our lives.  God will not share that place with anything else.  In Exodus 20, where the ten commandments are listed, verse 3 says, “You shall have no other gods before [or besides] me.”

So, to revisit the first of our questions, what's your heart set on?, ask yourself, what matters most to me? where is my treasure?  Jesus says, “...where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (v21)  There is room for only one God, and being in his kingdom must be our primary focus.

What's on your Mind?

Greed is not the only reason for getting money.  Of course, we need money to live.  We have to eat, buy clothes and houses and all the other essentials of life.  To do that we have to have at least enough, and we all like a little bit more for that rainy day...

I know from experience how easy it is to worry about not having enough, especially in these uncertain times of recession.  Worry is a terrible thing that we all do and makes absolutely no difference to our predicaments; except making them seem larger, and something to worry about even more than we already have.

Why do people worry?  As Jesus says, worrying can't make our lives a single hour longer.  In fact, we now know that the stress of worry can make our lives considerably shorter!  As well as pointing out the futility of worrying, Jesus gives us a very good reason not to worry: we have a loving Father who knows what we need and promises to meet our need.

Once again, he draws into focus what matters most.  Having life and existence is of more import than the things we worry about.  Jesus came to bring us eternal life; that's his priority for us, and it needs to be our priority too.  But we need food and drink and clothing don't we?  Shouldn't these things be important to us?  Doesn't it make sense that we worry about these things?  Jesus puts us straight with examples from nature.

Why worry about food and drink?  Look at the birds, Jesus says.  All they need is available to them.  They don't worry about food and drink and spend all their time working.  God provides for them.  We are more important to God than the birds; will he not provide for us too?

Now, he is talking about the birds living in the very different climate of Palestine, where their food is in plentiful supply all year round.  We have to take account of that because some of the birds around us do stock up for winter.  But even here the birds are provided for: often by people acting as unwitting agents of God.  So the example still stands.  You are more important than the birds so don't worry about food and drink: God will provide the means!

As for clothing, look at the wild flowers: how beautiful are they?  More beautiful than the most opulent king Israel ever knew, and they don't do any work for it.  God designed them to be as they are!  I don't know anything about Palestinian wild flowers, but think about a British meadow.  What a riot of beauty!  There are speedwell, violets, buttercups, field-campion, scarlet pimpernel, primroses, cowslips, daisies, dandelions, to name but a few.  It's just a field of grass but look at it!  We are more valuable than grass; won't our God provide for us?

Look at the flowers here in church.  I know they are cultivated but, all the same, we've only been working with what God put in there to begin with.  Aren't they beautiful?  You are more important to God than even the flowers in church!

The biggest problem with worry is that it is a great enemy of faith.  If worry is the enemy of faith, then faith is the antidote to worry: faith in our heavenly Father who values us so much that he sent his Son to die for us!  If he's prepared to do that, can't we trust him for the basic things of our earthly lives?  God knows our need.  If he is number one in our lives, he will provide our needs.

Actually, looking back over my life to times when I've not had a great deal of spare cash to play with, my needs were always met.  At university in the 70s, I had enough to buy the food and books I needed; other people have bought me clothes; I had somewhere to live. 

But you'll be surprised to know I'm not perfect.  My wife is naturally more generous than I am, and I had some concerns that, unless we were careful, we wouldn't have enough for ourselves.  And then God spoke to me through something I wrote myself in a creative writing class.  He assured me he was with me and that I need not fear not having enough.  There's something wonderful when God speaks to you so clearly: it changes your life.  I put away my fear and allowed myself to live more generously, more contentedly, because God is with me always, and what more can I need?  I've been retired for a year now and have less income but I have enough and some to share, and just as much of God as I always did—and he comes in endless supply.  Why did I have so little faith?

To worry is to live like a pagan.  They have to run after material concerns because they don't have a heavenly Father who knows and supplies their needs.  We do!

So, to revisit our second question, what's on your mind?, ask yourself, am I worrying like a pagan? Or am I trusting in my loving heavenly Father?  Let's trust him!

What's your Priority?

Jesus began his ministry with the words, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” (Mt 4:17).  The whole purpose of his coming was to make God's kingdom accessible to us, and now he tells us that finding the kingdom is the most important thing in our lives; and so it is!

There's a short phrase that sums up for us the essential point of his message in verse 33 of our passage: “...seek first [the Father's] kingdom and his righteousness...”

I looked this verse up in the Greek and I was surprised by what I found.  The word for “first” is “proton”.  As I'm a physicist, that had an interesting resonance for me.  You see, every atom in the universe has at least one proton in its nucleus.  The number of protons in an atom determines what kind of atom it is: hydrogen has one proton, oxygen has eight protons.   Fundamentally, the number of protons determines the behaviour of the atom and the kind of interactions it can have with other atoms.

Now, Jesus clearly isn't talking about nuclear physics here but it's insightful for us to reflect on this.  The kingdom of God is to be fundamental to our existence.  God wants our identity to be defined by his kingdom.  He wants our character to be defined by kingdom values.  Our relationships and all our interactions with others are to be governed by kingdom values.  Then we can show his righteousness to the world, a righteousness that isn't based on social status or our own efforts.

None of this comes to us naturally.  That's why Jesus tells us to seek God's kingdom.  Only God's kingdom will endure.  Only in God's kingdom can we find everlasting security.  That's why Jesus tells us to make it the first thing in our lives.

So, to revisit our last question, what's your priority? ask yourself, who am I living for? For myself, or for God and his kingdom?

Summary

In our passage, the Lord has challenged materialism, warning that to live that way is to serve the wrong God and cannot give us security beyond this life.  He's urged us to have faith in our Father instead of worrying—as if there were no loving God.  And he tells us to make finding God's kingdom the most important thing in our lives.  And he's promised God's provision of our everyday needs.

We can know God's kingdom in our lives here and now.  It's important that we do!  The treasure we lay up in heaven is the only thing we can keep when we leave this world.

Seek first God's kingdom!

On Crossing the Ocean of Life

No boat-builder designs an ocean-going yacht with plain-sailing in mind; he knows the sea too well.  His design must account for much more than the comfort of the crew: survival is the greater concern.  At sea, "What if . . . ?" is a pointless question, "When" a much more sensible approach.

There must be adequate beds for the crew to sleep in, a means of cooking that copes with the roll of the waves, ventilation for hot, balmy days in the sun but which will not let the rain in.  The cabin must be sealed against stormy seas.  The mast must withstand the strain of wind on sails, the hull the hammer-blows of wave upon wave crossed at speed.

There must be equipment for knowing where you are, and what is in your path, and keeping the boat on course when all you can see in the lightning flash is the top of the next wave and the bottom of lowering clouds.

The chances of success on crossing the ocean depends on the materials the boat is built from and the skill of its crew, and a good boat can be capsized and still right itself.  If the boat succumbs to the waves, there must be a lifeboat with food and water to sustain the crew until rescue, and the means to help searchers locate it.

Life's circumstances are the high seas on which the good ship Perseverance sails.  These waters are as dangerous as any faced by the sailor, yet many a believer launches upon them in a rowing boat with a picnic hamper as if on a bank holiday outing.

"We must go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God" (Acts 14:22 NIV).  Do not be so foolish as to think your life will be plain-sailing.  It will not be.  You will enjoy calm, warm days but you will also face raging storms and angry seas.  Foaming reefs will threaten your passage, your destination will be hardly perceived, your whereabouts obscured.  You will be subjected to stresses and strains, capsized and possibly even crushed.

Think about the boat you sail in.  What is it built with? How well is it crewed?  Make sure it is well suited for the whole journey—half-way across the ocean is not far enough!  And take with you the lifeboat of hope.

God Wants Fruitcake!

Readings

Matthew 7:21-27
Romans 11:33-12:6

Introduction

Hands up who likes cake!  Who prefers fruit cake?  And who prefers sponge?  For me, a good solid bit of fruit cake beats sponge cake every time.

Occasionally, my wife asks me to go shopping with her and, of course, I go willingly(!) in the hope that she'll reward me with a coffee and a slice of cake in a nice cafe. 

Imagine the scene.  We've gone into a cafe and looked at what's on offer in the cake display then found ourselves a table.  The waitress comes over and takes our order. "I'll have a filter coffee with milk please (I can't be doing with all this latte nonsense) and a piece of that fruitcake with the icing on the top."

Five minutes later, the waitress returns with our order and she puts down in front of me the coffee I asked for and a plate with a slice of icing on it.  "What's this?" I ask her. 

"It's icing," she says. “The sweetest bit!”

"This isn't what I'm expecting," I say.  "I want fruitcake.  Take this away!"

This is a perfectly reasonable response on my part.  If I've said what I want and I'm paying for it, I expect to get what I'm looking for.

As this sermon goes on, we'll see that our God has a certain expectation of what he is getting from us.  In the terms of this rather trivial parable, God is looking for fruitcake too, not just the icing.

God is looking for disciples.  We'll see that discipleship is

• prescribed by Jesus
• expected by the Father
• enabled through the Holy Spirit 

Discipleship – Prescribed by Jesus

At the end of Matthew's gospel, Jesus says to the eleven remaining disciples “... go and make disciples of all nations, … teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.”  This is what we know as the Great Commission, and it's something we may hear a lot of in days to come, if we haven't already.

The Great Commission is about mission but, in an age when many church buildings are falling empty, we need to be very clear about what the mission is.  For example, Jesus doesn't ask us to invite people to become church-goers.  He doesn't even ask us to convince people to become believers.  He commands us to make disciples.  This, I believe, is the key to church growth.

Actually, Jesus commands disciples to make disciples.  If we are to make disciples, then we need to know what a disciple is, and the best way to discover that is to be a disciple.

So what is a disciple?  The Greek word that we translate as “disciple” means “learner” or “apprentice.” In Jewish tradition, a rabbi would call apprentices. His disciples aimed to become like their rabbi: to think like him, to speak like him and to act like him. Eventually, they would become sufficiently competent to be able to call and train their own disciples. 

Jesus followed the same pattern.  He called and made disciples.  Those disciples were sent out to call and make disciples, and the church has propagated around the world and down the ages on this same model.

In those parts of the world where the church is growing, it's because discipleship is key to the life of the church.  John Wesley's work was successful because of his emphasis on discipleship. 

The church in our land today is failing because it is not growing disciples.

Discipleship – Required by the Father

Being a disciple of Jesus is crucially important.  In fact, God's destiny for us is that we grow to be like Jesus; as Paul writes to the Romans, God has “predestined us to be conformed to the image of his Son.”  If we set that aside, what do we become?

In the passage from Matthew 7 Jesus tells us who will get to go to heaven.  He makes it clear that it's not enough merely to call him Lord: he must actually be Lord.  He's very direct about it: those who will enter the kingdom of heaven are the ones who do the will of his Father (v 21). 

In verse 22, Jesus voices some of the objections he expects to hear: “we prophesied in your name; we drove out demons in your name; we did miracles in your name.”  And in verse 23, Jesus says, “Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you.  Away from me, you evildoers!'”

Now, Jesus is not decrying these activities.  No-one had more respect for prophecy than Jesus, and he even prophesied himself.  Jesus drove out many demons.  He did plenty of miracles.  And clearly, the disciples that followed on from Jesus did all these things too, and some of the spiritual gifts Christ gives to his church are exactly those things.  But, in terms of what God expects of us, these things are just the icing on the cake.

There is a tragedy in the message of Jesus here.  There are people who think that because God has apparently done something wonderful through them, or because they have genuinely encountered God in some way, that they are in, and it doesn't matter how they live.  There is a danger of getting so caught up in what we consider exciting and spectacular that we discount and neglect what is really important: doing the will of God. 

But there may be other objections Jesus may hear: “Lord, I sat in chapel every Sunday of my life; Lord, I put my money on the plate; Lord, I was on all the rotas; Lord, I was a Methodist Local Preacher!” There is a danger in being merely religious because it can give us a false sense of security: we're involved in church so we'll be OK. Not so: what is really important is doing the will of God.

In the parable at the end of our reading from Matthew, Jesus tells us just what that will is.  The passage stands at the end of what we know as the sermon on the mount, which begins in chapter 5.  Jesus says the wise man is the one “who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice.”  And the parable tells us there will be a difference between those who hear and do, and those who hear and do not do.

Here's some homework for you.  This week, make a point of reading the sermon on the mount.  As you read, ask the Holy Spirit to make the meaning plain to you.  These are the words that Jesus expects us to put into practice.  These are the words that convey the will of God for us, and set out the kind of life the Father expects us to live.

Discipleship – Enabled through the Holy Spirit

If we read through the sermon on the mount, and are honest with ourselves as we read, we'll find things in it that challenge the way we live.  We could get to the end and wonder how on earth we can live like that.

Do you remember what I said earlier?  A disciple is a learner, an apprentice.  Following Jesus as a disciple is to be involved in a process.  We will not be sinlessly perfect from the outset.  We will make mistakes along the way.  If you want evidence of that, look at the stories of the closest of Jesus' disciples.  They certainly got it wrong often enough, both before and after their conversion.

But there should be in each of us a determination to follow Jesus closely; that may well be a stumbling determination at best.  When I look back at my own tracks, I'm amazed that I'm still following, such have been my failures down the years.  But, I am determined to follow Jesus.  I will be a disciple.  I will not give up.

But how can we do it?  How can we make progress?  Well,

• first of all, we must make the right beginning
• then we must cooperate with the Holy Spirit's work in our lives.

Let's look at the second of our passages in Romans 12.  Paul has been explaining how that the Jews have experienced a hardening for a season so that God's mercy may be available to the Gentiles.  At the beginning of chapter 12 he makes his appeal to the Roman believers on the basis of God's mercy.

A Right Beginning

If we are to make a right beginning, we have first to recognise that what we need from God is mercy: there is no automatic right of access to heaven.  Reading through the sermon on the mount ought to convince us of our need for mercy.  But the good news is that mercy is freely available to all who will turn to Christ because of his sacrifice on the cross. 

We are sinners, he was without sin; he took the punishment of those who will follow him, we can receive the rewards of his righteousness.  But look at the cost of salvation, and see the extravagance of God's mercy.

In Romans 12, Paul urges us, because of God's mercy, to offer our bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God.  We are no longer our own to do as we please.  We belong to God; just as we say in our covenant service, “I am no longer my own but yours.” (p288, 290 MWB). 

We've gathered together today for a worship service but Paul tells us that true and proper worship is all about living the whole of our lives for God.

Cooperating with the Holy Spirit

We are not robots.  We belong to God but we still have a will of our own.  The easiest thing in the world for us is to carry on doing our own thing, to run with the crowd, to fit in with the world, to chase our own ambition.  But Paul urges not to do that: “Do not conform to the pattern of this world,” he tells us, “but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

You see, we begin our walk with Christ in an act of repentance.  The Greek word for 'repent' is metanoia and it literally means 'change your mind', or change the way you think about things.  When we are converted, and the Holy Spirit comes in, that renewal of our thinking continues.  We see things differently once we are in Christ. 

Imagine standing outside York Minster and looking at the stained glass windows.  They are unimpressive and dull.  But go inside and look at them with the light shining through.  How different!

As the Holy Spirit opens up Scripture to us and reveals the way of Christ to us, he renews our minds and we see things differently.  The way we think governs how we live, and this new way of thinking can transform the way we live.  As Paul says to the Galatians, “... live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.” (Gal 5:16)

But we have a choice.  If we choose the new way, we step out along the pathway of discovery.  We will find God's will to be good for us, and pleasing to us and perfect to us.

Yes, there will be times when what God wants very definitely conflicts with what we want or what we hoped for ourselves; no-one said following Jesus would be easy.  Sometimes we will make wrong choices: I know I've made enough of those.  But there is still mercy; when we stray, there is a way back onto the path.

And, as the rest of our reading from Romans shows, we are not on the road alone.  We have each other.  We can encourage each other when there are difficult choices to make.  We can support each other when someone makes a wrong choice and needs to find restoration.

Being disciples of Christ leads us into ways that are good, pleasing and perfect. 

Being disciples leads us to discover true freedom.  John 8:31b,32 “Jesus said, 'If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples.  Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.'”

Being disciples leads us into close fellowship with God.  John 14:23 “...'Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching.  My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.'”  Then, we will never hear those dreadful words, “I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers.”

Summary

So, in summary,

• Christ prescribes discipleship as the way for his people,
• the Father is looking for disciples who do his will,
• the Holy Spirit is with us to lead, guide and transform us as we follow the way of discipleship.

Practically, what should you do? Make sure you've made a right beginning. Seek earnestly for God until you know you've found him; then hand your life over to him and invite the Holy Spirit to be with you and in you. Read the Scriptures, pray, live in the light of what your discover. Find others on the same journey and meet with them to study Scripture, pray, share your life, encourage and be encouraged.

Being a disciple is vitally important. Let me be clear: we do not earn salvation by our discipleship. Salvation is always the free gift of God to all who will repent and believe the gospel. But accepting God's gift of salvation is also to end our independence from him, and to end our rebellion against him. We must learn again how to live. If we are unwilling to change, then we have failed to understand the gospel.

At the end of the passage in Matthew, Jesus told a short parable: a contrast between two houses, one built on sand, the other on rock.  We can imagine that these houses looked very similar from the ground up but, after the time of testing came, only the house on the rock remained standing.

What kind of foundation does your house have?  Is it built on the sand of your own ways?  Or is it built on the rock of Christ's words?

Be the fruitcake, not just the icing!

Lessons for the Joyful Life

Introduction

'Cheer up,' they told me. 'Things could be worse.'  So I cheered up and, sure enough, things got worse. 

This is a quip we've probably all heard before and smiled wryly about, because life can be a bit like that; we try to be cheerful but then something else goes wrong . . .

Paul, in this epistle of joy, exhorts his readers to, 'Rejoice in the Lord always'.  He thinks this such an important thing for believers to grasp that he says it again: 'Rejoice!'

As believers, we have plenty to rejoice about:

• our sins are forgiven,
• we are loved by our heavenly Father,
• we are indwelt by the Holy Spirit,
• and we have the sure and certain hope of everlasting life. 

And yet, we need reminding to rejoice.  We need reminding because we are still human and, sometimes, life can be tough, and we lose our focus on the things that really count when our minds are bombarded by difficulties and obstacles. 

There are at least four sermons in this last chapter of Philippians, but I want to try and draw out from it three lessons that help us to find that place of rejoicing in the midst of life, three things that help us to keep our minds clear and free.

I want to talk about:

• Dealing with our anxieties
• Training our minds
• Learning contentment

Dealing with Anxiety

Paul tells his readers not to be anxious about anything.  At the time he was writing, Philippi was a Roman colony; the sort of place where emperors settled their retired war veterans.  Government went very much along Roman lines, which could well have made life difficult for Philippian Christians.  They could easily have responded with, 'Well, that's easy for you to say, but you don't have to live here.'

But Paul is in a good position to hand out this kind of advice.  It's clear from the earlier parts of this letter that Paul is writing whilst under arrest, probably in Rome, and that his execution is a very real possibility in his mind.  And yet, he rejoices.  He is not anxious.  He is at peace.  He has no need to lash out because of his predicament: he can be gentle in his dealings with others and he exhorts the Philippians to be the same.

As we read this today, we don't have to be anxious about threats from Rome but, let's be honest, there are plenty of things we can find to be anxious about: money worries, health matters, family issues to mention just a few.  Paul isn't saying that it's wrong to have concerns but he wants to spare us the destructive enervation of anxious thought, especially when there's something very positive we can do about it.

Anxiety focusses on the problem rather than the solution, on the threat rather than the resources.  Anxiety is the enemy of faith.  If we are overcome with anxiety, we'll find it difficult to exercise trust in the God who cares for us.

Again, it's not wrong to have concerns; we'd be foolish to ignore problems and difficulties.  Paul tells us what to do with them: '⁶Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.' (NIV)

He tells us to take our concerns to the God who cares for us.  In the Shorter Oxford Dictionary,  prayer and petition are defined in terms of each other.  I think Paul's repetition (of prayer and petition) implies an earnest approach to God and a very real concern in the heart of God for our well-being.  I believe his meaning here is that we should go very definitely into the presence of God and tell him exactly what our problem is, exactly how we feel about it, and exactly what we'd like him to do.  God cares.

Paul tells us to take our concerns to God with thanksgiving.  If anxiety is the enemy of faith, then thanksgiving is the friend of faith.  It says, 'I believe you care about me and the things that concern me.  I believe you hear my prayers.  I believe you will be with me in all of this.  I trust you.'

I'm sure Paul took the possibility of his execution to God.  Wouldn't you?  He seems, in chapter 1, to expect release but he also seems quite calm about the alternative, knowing that whatever happens he'll face it with God. 

We have to acknowledge that taking issues to God is no guarantee that the problems will disappear.  But there's a very clear and definite promise for us when we do: '⁷And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.' (NIV)

In the greek of the New Testament, the word translated as 'guard' is a military term.  We can think of God's peace being set about our minds like a garrison, constantly on watch for attack and ready to defend us from the onslaught of those anxious thoughts.

This is all well and good but does it work?  Well, in my experience, yes it does.  There was a time in my life, back in the 80s, when the circumstances I found myself in had my mind in turmoil.  I was almost completely debilitated by anxiety.  Then I came across this passage of scripture and began to cry out to God.  And, you know, I was utterly surprised by what happened. 

I suddenly found myself completely at peace.  And, as Paul's letter implies may be the case, I was at a complete loss to understand why.  None of my circumstances had changed.  All of the things that gave me cause for concern still existed, but in one second I was in distress, and in the next I was at peace.  The pattern was broken and, over time, I was able to deal with or find a way out of my circumstances.

So, yes, it does work.  God's promises hold good.

What troubles are you wrestling with at the moment?  Is anyone here driven to distraction with anxiety?  Take you anxieties before God and read these verses in his presence.  Claim the promise and allow his peace in.  Give yourself the freedom to rejoice.

Training the Mind

The mind is where many of our battles are won or lost before we even confront the challenges we face.  The trouble with anxiety is that, once it takes hold, it leads our thinking into endless, repetitive cycles of thought that can be difficult to break out from.  Taking our concerns to God and receiving his peace is a way to break that pattern.  Paul gives us some more advice that will protect us from destructive thinking and, even better, lead us into constructive living.

The outward expression of our life is very much determined by the way we think.  What goes on inside our heads?  What do we fill our minds with?

We need to be careful about what we feed our minds on: the TV we watch, the books we read, the gossip we listen to.  But we should also be positive about the way we conduct our thought-life. 

Paul tells us to fill our minds with good stuff: things that are

• true, noble, right,
• pure, lovely, admirable,
• excellent and praiseworthy. 

We need to pursue these good things;  to meditate on them; to contemplate them; to see the value in them; to allow them to shape our living.

Paul tacks an interesting instruction on the end of these thoughts: anything the Philippians have been taught by him, anything they've seen him do, they are to do those things too.  What a statement!  What a responsibility these words place on those who stand in pulpits!

So, Paul tells us to fill our minds with good thoughts, to copy good examples, and he ends this section with another promise: the God who is the source of peace that is beyond our comprehension will be with us.  Isn't this something to rejoice about?

That's something I want more than anything else in the world.  What about you?

Learning Contentment

From verse 10 onwards, Paul expresses his grateful thanks to the Philippians for their continuing and generous support.  But he also slips in another important lesson for them.

He writes, '… I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.  … I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation. … I can do everything through him who gives me strength.' (NIV)

We live in an increasingly hedonistic and materialistic age.  People in our land have more wealth than ever before.  Many people may even say they are happy.  Our government has supported initiatives to assess how happy we are as a nation.  But how much joy is there in our society?  Joy that fills your heart even when times are difficult.  How much contentment is there?

Contentment is a learned response, as Paul makes clear.  Contentment is something developed through the ups and downs of life.  Happiness probably depends on getting what we want.  Contentedness is more about wanting what we get.

Paul experienced plenty and need.  He was content in both extremes.  He learned that having plenty was because of the kindness and generosity of God, not because he had rights or entitlement.  And, when he was in need, he still had his God, he still had his salvation, and he'd learned that God could be trusted and would come through for him.  When the hard times came, he didn't grasp for the material things he was enjoying, he took a firmer hold of his God.  He discovered that, come what may, with Christ giving him strength, he could do anything.

In my previous church, I belonged to a creative writing group.  One evening, we were given the task of writing a poem about something we feared.  To make the job easier, we were given a formula to follow.  I wrote a poem called, “The Fear of not Having Enough” which was a genuine concern I lived with at the time. 

I constructed the poem, following the formula, and was reasonably happy with the outcome; and in the bit at the end, I had God responding to the complainant.  However, when I had to read it out loud, I found that God spoke to me.  Here's the poem what I wrote:

The Fear of Not Having Enough

The bread is stale,
Its few remaining slices
Green with mould;
Its dankness fills the air.
A bitter, empty wind
Threads through a tottering fence.
Pharaoh’s last, wizened cow
Would bellow its woe
Had it strength enough.

The eagle soars,
Oblivious to dearth,
Its vision attuned
To its realm’s bounty.

O, to be that monarch of the skies;
To fly away and beyond
To Cornucopia’s shore
Where lack alone is wanting…
One day, my child, you shall fly
Far beyond the eagle’s range.
One day, my child, riches will abound
But, until then, I Am with you
And enough is enough.

There's something wonderful when God speaks to you so clearly.  It changes your life.  I put away that fear and allowed myself to live more generously, more contentedly, because God is with me always, and what more can I need?  I am about to retire and will have less income but I will have just as much of God, who comes in endless supply.

Contentedness is something we learn but learning is optional.  We can choose to learn rather than waiting to be taught.  It can be a hard lesson to learn but it's a lesson worth learning because the hard times will come anyway …  As Paul writes to Timothy, '… godliness with contentment is great gain.'

Summary

So, from this chapter, we've discovered

• what we can do with our anxieties
• how to retrain our thinking to head off anxiety and improve our living
• how to live well whatever the circumstances
• And that God gives us peace, that he is peace, and the source of our strength.

Life in Christ empowers us to face an uncertain future, life or death with peace in our minds and joy in our hearts.  So, let's rejoice in the Lord always.  I'll say it again: Rejoice!

Forever Secure

13 October, 2013
Psalm 62
Mark 10:17-27

Introduction

Psychologists tell us we have three fundamental needs: Security, Significance and Self-worth.  And, if we stop to think about it, we'll see that they're right.

We all like to know that we're safe from threat or danger, and that we have sufficient resources to free us from worry.

We all like to feel that we count for something; that we matter to someone, that we make a difference.

We all want to feel good about ourselves, to be able hold up our heads unashamed at the people we are and the way we live our lives.

Psalm 62 speaks to us primarily about the first of our basic needs: security.  It tells us about

•    the believer's security,
•    the futility of independent means, and
•    the sufficiency of God

The Believer's Security

'Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy Him for ever.'  So says the Westminster Catechism, and I think this is true.  We were made by God for his pleasure and glory and to be in dependent relationship with him.  If we divorce ourselves from these facts, then we miss the whole point of our existence, and launch ourselves on a futile search for satisfaction.

These are truths that David has learnt, and he begins his psalm with a clear statement of reliance on God alone.  For David, and for all believers everywhere and in all times, the only true source of rest and peace is found in God and in right relationship with him.

David's security didn't depend on his own ability to surround himself with armies and fortresses.  Even though he had those things, he still knew that his real security depended on the will of God.

David knew God to be dependable.  God alone was the solid rock on which his security depended.  He had such confidence in God that he could say, 'I will never be shaken.'  That's quite a statement!

Because of this confidence, his soul found rest in God.

Now, David was not living in cloud-cuckoo land.  He was only too aware of his enemies, what they thought of him, and the threat they posed to him.  Look at verses 3 and 4 of the psalm.

These verses perhaps also give us some idea that David was aware of his own weakness: without God's help, he was like a retaining wall that was bulging out and ready to collapse because of the weight piled up behind it; or like a fence with rotten posts that wobbled about in the lightest of breezes.  Humanly speaking, his position was precarious—remember how many kings got bumped off and replaced in those days!  He knew there were people out to get him and that they'd certainly betray him when and if they had the  opportunity.

There's that little word, selah.  I was once told it means something like 'pause a while and think on that.'  It's used twice in this psalm and the first time is after verse 4.  David is saying, 'Look, I'm not messing about here; my problems are real and enormous.  Consider them carefully.'

Then David returns straight to his starting point: yes, his enemies are great but his God is greater.  He reminds himself of his source of security and expands on his opening words.  Then he encourages all of us to 'Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.'

And there's that little word, selah, again.  We've taken stock of our enemies.  Now take stock of the utter dependability of our God.

There are enemies of believers today.

Did you hear the recent report in the news about Muslim suicide bombers going to a church in Pakistan and blowing themselves up outside it, killing around 80 Christian worshippers in the process?  We're fortunate not to have those kind of enemies here.

May be some of us have actual human enemies who hate us and oppose us at every opportunity, or perhaps there are just people who laugh at us because of what we believe.

We definitely have a spiritual enemy who opposes us.  Peter writes in his first letter, 'Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.  Resist him, standing firm in the faith.'  He'll take any opportunity he can to stop you being effective for the kingdom of God, or even to rob you of your faith, if he can.

Enemies aside, even the circumstances of life can bring us to the brink of disaster.  There was a time in my life when that very nearly happened to me, when I was like a bowing wall or a tottering fence.

During a Sunday morning service in September 2000, I was worshipping with my eyes closed, and suddenly saw myself under a black, opaque dome.  Now, while I believe in the gifts of the Holy Spirit, I'm not given to seeing things, so I was surprised when this happened, and took careful notice of it.

In this picture in my mind, the dome that surrounded me was perfectly smooth, with nothing to grasp, and the little light in there was only what leaked in where the dome touched the ground.

It was a striking image but I had no idea what it might mean, so I filed the experience away in my memory and moved on.

In November that year, my mother fell ill.  We found out in the following March that she had lung cancer, and she died in October 2001.  In reaction to my loss, I began a long, slow descent into clinical depression.  Two years later, I reached the depths of that illness.  I was off work for 13 weeks, and my GP prescribed anti-depressant medication.

During the time off work, I sometimes skipped church on the days I just couldn't face it.  Even when I went, I sat there unable to engage, wondering why I was there at all, seriously doubting the existence of God, and somewhat dejected that I had wasted 30 years of my life in pursuit of something that wasn't real.

The day came when I must have hit rock-bottom, and asked myself, 'What am I doing here?  What's the point of all this rubbish?'  I said to God, 'Are you really there?'

And God said to me, 'I warned you this would happen.'  And again, I saw the picture of the dome, with virtually no light, all blackness and with nothing to hold on to: it was a perfect depiction of how I felt.

Suddenly, I knew God was real.  I sat there and wept, so thankful for the care God had taken to make sure I would get through my problem.  I said to him, 'Lord, you'll have to hold on to me because I can't hold on to you.'

I took me another two years to recover and get off the medication but, however low I felt, I could never again doubt the existence of God or that he loved me and cared for me.

I learnt from the experience that, actually, God had always been holding onto me; my walk with God had never been about my being able to hold on to him.  It's a wonderful thing to know that I'm forever secure in the love of God.

I know God loves me and I know he loves each one of you every bit as much.

The Futility of Independent Means

David takes care to advise us against two of the things that people relied on for security in his day, and which people still rely on today: status (verse 9) and wealth (verse 10).

An uncle of mine used to say that money can't make you happy but at least you can be miserable in comfort.  Those who are highborn in our land may be a bit more comfortable than we lesser, lowborn, mortals but, at the end of the day, they're really no better off than us.

Whether we are monarchs in a palaces or a tramps in cardboard boxes, we amount to nothing.  'Our days are as grass.'  We are here today, gone tomorrow.  What do we have for security then?

Criminal gang leaders assert their status through ruthless behaviour.  They acquire wealth by foul means.  But they too come to nothing in the end, and when they've gone others fight over what they've left behind.  And they leave everything behind.

We've heard young people on the telly saying their ambition is to be rich and famous, and the so-called reality shows holds out that empty promise to them.

As Jesus said elsewhere, 'What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?'

David says, 'Though your riches increase, do not set your heart on them.'

In our New Testament reading, we saw the encounter between Jesus and a rich young man; an apparently godly young man, a religious man who genuinely wanted to know how to attain eternal life.  His problem was not that he was rich but that his riches meant too much to him.

David was a King.  He was rich.  He was lowborn but had risen to great heights.  He knew that God had put him where he was, and he knew where his real security lay: 'Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him.  He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I shall not be shaken.  My salvation and my honour depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge.'

There is no substitute for God; not the practice of religion, not even knowledge about God.  It has to be God himself.

The Sufficiency of God

Now, there are many troubles in this life, and Jesus himself told us to expect them.  Some of us will face troubles that threaten and even take away our very lives.  God has never promised to keep troubles away from our door but he has promised to be with us all the time.  And, as I hope my testimony demonstrates, he is dependable.

David encourages us to 'Trust in [God] at all times.'  I'm not saying we shouldn't put sensible precautions in place against risk but, whatever we do, we need to recognise our ultimate security is in God.  Trusting in God isn't a matter of living in denial of our very real problems.  Trusting in God includes taking our very real problems to him.

Our God is approachable and interested.  In fact, he wants relationship with us.  David encourages us to, 'pour out [our] hearts to [God].'  I'm happy to report that God has broad shoulders; he can cope with our anxieties and even our complaining.  Whatever your troubles are, you can take them to God and tell him how you feel about them.

David tells us that God is strong, and that he is loving.  This is encouraging news. 

I'm glad that God is both strong and loving.  If he were not loving, we'd live in fear of his strength and see little point in bothering him with our problems.  If he were not strong, we couldn't have any confidence in his ability to help us, however sympathetic we may feel him to be.

He is strong.  He's the maker of all things.  He's sovereign over and in all circumstances.  Our God is well able to carry us through all the difficulties of our lives because of his great strength.

He is loving.  He cares about what happens to us.  We matter to God.  As well as being secure in him, we are significant to him.  He sent Jesus to be our saviour, and gives us his Holy Spirit so he can be with us in our circumstances all the time and lead us to safety.

Whatever happens to us, if we are Christ's, then we are eternally secure.  As Paul writes to the Romans, 'I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.'

Summary and Challenge

The psalm ends with a promise.  'Surely you will reward each person according to what he has done.'

Perhaps David has one eye on his enemies again.  Is he saying, 'I trust God and will be rewarded accordingly; they do evil and will be rewarded accordingly'?  He may well be looking forward to the day of his vindication.

Whatever David was thinking, there is the promise of reward according to what we do.  I'm not talking about working to earn our salvation because, as the psalm tells us, that depends on God alone.

Given the security we have in God, what should we be doing?  Does that security give us freedom to take some risks of faith, to be daring and bold for God?

I have a vision to see all the churches in Tynedale

•    growing, not shrinking;
•    taking some risks and stepping out in faith;
•    trying new ways of expressing the kingdom of God in our times;
•    reaching out to their communities with love and compassion;
•    helping people find faith in God.

I'm preaching and praying to that end.

“Tynedale for God” is my vision.  What's your vision for your church here?

On a more personal level, are any of you facing opposition from enemies, or struggles and trials in your life?  Pour out your heart to God.  He is your refuge.  He is strong and loving.  He is able to sustain you, and he loves you more than I have words to explain.

Whatever level this psalm touches us at, let us all have confidence in God.  Let our souls find rest in him.  Once we are in God's hands we are eternally secure.

Our God is utterly dependable.

Has Harold Camping been Raptured?

A BBC News article reports that 'Harold Camping has not been sighted since his failed prediction.'  Perhaps he's the only one who's gone ...

One of his followers, one Robert Fitzpatrick, who spent over $140,000 advertising this farcical prediction is quoted as saying, 'I do not understand why... I do not understand why nothing has happened.'  Let me explain something.

• Matthew 24:36 (Jesus speaking, emphases mine, NIV) 'No-one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.'
• If God the Father was unwilling to tell EVEN HIS SON when the end was coming, why on earth would he tell Harold Camping?

•  Acts 1:6-7 (emphases mine, NIV) '[The apostles] asked him, "Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Isreal?" He said to them: "It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority."
• Harold Camping is not more important that the original apostles.  Even were he a modern-day apostle, which this debacle proves he is not, I doubt he would be higher up the pecking order than Peter.

It is time that people stopped believing in personalities, stopped listening to stuff that sounds exciting but is groundless, stopped jumping on spiritual band-waggons, stopped being 'blown here and there by every wind of teaching...'  (Ephesians 4:14, NIV).  Instead, follow Jesus, know the truth, persevere, grow up.

Not everything you hear from the pulpit is sound teaching.  How can you know what is sound if you have nothing to measure it by?  Read the Bible for yourself and get a broad understanding of it.  It is about down-to-earth living in relationship with our Heavenly Father who loves you better than you can understand, through all the trouble and strife your life may bring, as well as through the good stuff.  It is not (only) about Pie in the Sky.  As a start, you would do well to work through the E100 Bible Reading Challenge.  Read the Bible for yourself in a clear translation in your own, modern language.

I apologise that this article, which has been a bit of a rant, is less gracious than my usual style.  I also point out that my attitude does not necessarily reflect that of any other organisation I may have referred to here.

Throwing Caution to the Wind

By nature, I am a cautious man. I like to know I am secure and my instinctive response to a new challenge is to assess the sufficiency of my resources. My life could be described as a punctuated equilibrium, to borrow a once-popular scientific term. The punctuation marks are the choices that led from one plateau of stability to another, each with different characteristics.

The positive transitions have been those events when I acted against my nature and took risks. Twice I have gone against parental pressure, leaving a safe apprenticeship to return to school and take my A-levels, and then leaving a safe-but-boring office job to do a physics degree. Twice I have ventured alone from the safety of my home environment, firstly to do that degree at a distant university, secondly to take a job in an unknown city. Latterly, I stepped nearer to a perceived financial precipice by moving to a costlier but deeply satisfying home in the country. Interestingly, the worst times in my life have resulted from transitions where I followed the 'safe' course: taking that boring office job, moving back home after my first degree, deciding to stay there when my parents split up, passing up a couple of opportunities to move away sooner. In my experience, the safe option may bring stability but rarely growth and discovery.

Our abilities and limitations are not bad in themselves. In fact, they can give us a good steer on our calling in life: I am good with computers, good enough to earn a reasonable living in the field, but, although I can cook well, I would never survive as a chef! The danger we face is to limit ourselves to only those opportunities that lie within our perceived limitations. Indeed, we can be so cautious as to never discover our boundaries; failure is always a possibility of risk-taking but so is adventure, and even failure teaches us valuable lessons.

In the spiritual realm, I have discovered that my natural caution mitigates against faith. Please note that I am not equating faith with recklessness: Jesus himself said we should not start to build a tower if we do not have the resources to complete it. Someone has said that faith is spelt, R-I-S-K, and so it is because it demands that we operate beyond our inherent abilities. Then again, it is not so because it does not demand that we operate without resources: God provides more than adequately for the work that he gives us.

The Bible tells us that God is real, that he loves us, that he is with us and that he wants to work in this world through us by the power of the Holy Spirit. The Bible is full of people who have demonstrated that. The best example of all is Jesus Christ himself, 'who, being in very nature God, ... made himself nothing ... being made in human likeness' (Phil 2:6ff). Even if we set aside the eternal salvation that he won for us (not that I would wish to), look at what he achieved: he changed the world, just by doing the things he saw the Father doing in reliance on the Holy Spirit. We too are human. We too have the same Holy Spirit, if we are his.

Over the years, I have acquired a sound grasp of biblical doctrine and theology. If this knowledge finds no practical use, amassing it is like working out just to develop an impressive-looking body. This knowledge does not in itself amount to faith. Even believing in the truth of this knowledge does not amount to faith. Faith is active: it is a way of life.

Down the years, my spiritual journey has mirrored my natural one: when I have taken the risks of faith I have grown, and the safe route has led to stagnation. Faith only grows if we use it, otherwise it atrophies. For those of us who are risk-averse, the acting out of faith can be a big problem. We cannot discover the real adventure of walking with God unless we live what we claim to believe. My real experience of God did not start on the night I became a Christian, it began when I took the risk of telling my schoolmates what I had done. Knowing the doctrine about the gifts of the Holy Spirit is not nearly so enriching as receiving my first word of knowledge and having the courage to share it.

The development of our faith is a journey that starts from where we are. In whatever condition we find ourselves, we can begin exercising again and improve it. As we use faith in small ways, God reveals the reality of his provision and encourages bigger steps. Each step can seem risky: what if we get it wrong? We may find that we are not designed for some avenues of service but that is OK: for mistakes there is grace and, I believe, the warm smile of God for trying. Ask a different question: what will we miss out on if we back away from the challenge? What might happen when God prompts you to do an act of kindness for someone, to speak a word, to stand up for the oppressed, to pray for healing?

We may well miss our vocation by not taking risks of faith. If we are prepared to step out with God, he will lead us into our calling. We can discover the things that our Father is doing and, just like Jesus, engage with them. The life of active faith is a voyage of discovery, and the route is uncertain. The important thing is to venture forth, allowing the wind of the Spirit to fill our sails; only when we are under way can we be steered. We get nowhere by staying in port.

Love - A Meditation Based on 1 Corinthians 13:4-8a

Being loved by you is amazing.

Often – if I’m honest – I’m slow to catch on to your leading, or even just plain difficult to deal with. I sometimes wonder why you bother but you don’t shout at me, or force me into submission. I’m sure I frustrate you but you keep on showing patience.

There are times of worship I have known, both in a corporate context and on my own, when you have touched my life and made me feel so happy; not because I’ve deserved it, just because you are kind and you love me.

You’ve no reason to envy me; I have nothing you need, and I don’t compare well… It doesn’t bother you that I have time in my life for things other than you. I rather think that you take pleasure in what my God-given faculties are attuned to. You give generously, and are happy that I enjoy what you give.

If anyone has anything to brag about, you have; you made everything and it all belongs to you. You’re the only genuine Mr Big there is but you don’t use shock and awe tactics. You come alongside me quietly, without intimidating me, and that fills me with awe.

You came to our mess of a world as a servant. You played down your miracles, washed your disciples’ feet. Now, you seek out my lowly company, and that makes me feel special.

You never belittle or insult me – although I know I am nothing and you could quite justifiably call me all manner of horrible names; I have never known you be rude or off-hand or dismissive towards me.

You are the only being in existence who deserves worship, the only one worthy of glory – fact – but our relationship doesn’t seem to be about your getting glory at my expense. On the contrary, you want me to be like you, to share all that you are.

There’s no denying that my behaviour has been extremely provoking at times, and I couldn’t complain if you rained fire down on me. I’m not saying that you’ve never been angry with me but it seems to have taken a lot of effort on my part…

Even when I have messed up, and you out-manoeuvre me, get me cornered and make me face up to my mistakes and failures, once the matter has been dealt with, it’s gone. You never rake up the past and each incident is like the first with you.

You hate it when I mess up and suffer consequences, it doesn’t please you that I bring pain on myself; there’s no, ‘Told you so,’ from you. On the other hand, you absolutely love it when I get real. So do I.

You have spoken to me about difficulties I would have to face so that, when I faced them, I had somewhere to take shelter, something to hold on to, something that guaranteed I would get through the trial. You always protect me from ultimate disaster.

I’m far from perfect; even so, you let me take an active part in what you are doing, letting me loose in the lives of others. For some reason, you still trust me, despite the times when I’ve proven unworthy of your trust. When I reflect on that, it makes me want to do it right. Your love inspires me to better things.

Whatever I am now, you always see what I will be when your work is finished. You never, ever give up hope; you already know what the outcome will be! Your hope gives me hope, and I don’t have to live a life based on my past.

I’m still on the potter’s wheel being shaped, worked, and reworked. Even when – at least from my perspective – all seems lost, you keep on working. Thank you for that. Thank you, big-time.

You know what? You will achieve your aim for my life. You will transform me into your image. One day, I shall be like you. It is inconceivable that you, or your love for me, could ever fail. It's wonderful that you are growing that same love in me.

Being loved by you is amazing.

On Being Ready

My dog was looking a little glum this morning as I was reading my bible and having a quiet start to the day. He didn't know what I had planned for him so, to cheer him up a bit, I decided to tell him.

Talking fairly quickly so he would not quite get everything and act prematurely, I told him that he was coming with me in the car and that I was taking him to spend the day with a friend of our's of whom he is particularly fond - but not yet, he would have to wait.

I could see from the expression on his face and the tilting from side-to-side of his head that he was listening intently, trying to make some sense out of the stream of noise I was producing. He got the word 'car' and our friend's name but, as I expected, missed and was a little bemused by all the padding.

Well, once I had stopped talking, you could see the cogs still whirling behind his eyes and the excited whine he suddenly emitted told me that he had worked it out. Of course, being a dog, and living in the moment, he missed the word 'wait' and wanted to do it now. He settled again as I read on but gave out a pleading, and sometimes demanding, whimper every so often, just to let me know that he hadn't forgotten what I had promised him and he wanted to get on with it! (No, I'm not imagining all this, he really is that bright.)

The time came to go, and his contained excitement exploded into action. He started crashing about the place while I tried to put his lead onto his collar, bit on his collar as I tried to pass it under his chin, jumped on me as I tried to put my shoes on and basically got in the way of all my efforts to prepare him for the journey. If he had cooperated calmly, we would have been under way sooner... Silly dog. But we did get there, in the end.

Unfortunately, Christians can be a bit like this. We hear from God about something he has planned for us but he leaves the picture a little hazy so we don't jump the gun. We don't get quite the whole picture but grasp enough to understand the general idea. Then we get all impatient and want to do it now, and start telling others what they should be doing (why is grace so often the first casualty?) before we have understood properly and they are anywhere near ready for it. Then the time comes and we try to do it ourselves and get in a right old tangle; unfortunately, we can do a lot of damage in the process.

So many moves of God have fallen into disregard and disrepute because of our immature behaviour. We get caught up in the excitement and forget the purpose. We think we are ready but he still has preparations to make. We decide we know what we are doing and miss the guiding hand of God; worse still, we think we are the only ones who know what we are doing and form factions. We even get in God's way and stop him doing what he wants to do. We think we've arrived but, really, it's only the next step in the journey.

Silly people. But he gets us where he wants us, in the end...

The Value of Discipline

Last weekend was a difficult one, at least as far as my dog and I are concerned. Last weekend I had to administer discipline, and it was not easy. What it taught me, in a limited measure, is how God must feel when he has to discipline me. It makes me feel sorry for the grief I have caused him in my time, never mind the grief I have caused others. I think of David’s statement in Psalm 51, ‘Against you, you only, have I sinned,’ and maybe for the first time understand what David meant.

We had family staying with us, and my dog decided to let my nephew know his position in the pack. He did so in a typically doggish way by snapping at the boy: no serious harm intended, just a warning. Naturally, we humans disagreed with Max’s point of view and he had to be disciplined – a measure amounting to immediate isolation for a while. Later that day, he decided to assert his ownership of a tennis ball when I approached him by snapping at me. Again, this was not an opinion I could share with him, and so, once again, he was dragged into isolation by the scruff of his neck. The outcome was his total lack of interest in the tennis ball, even when I later offered it to him.

The next day, he had another argument with my nephew. Realising that he had not learnt his lesson, I put him into isolation for the whole of the evening and, whenever I had to enter the same room in which he was incarcerated, totally ignored him. This time, the message got through. Max lay in his cage looking forlorn. At each of my appearances, there was the most pathetic of appeasing flickers from the end of his tail, and an upward glance in my direction from beneath flattened ears; he was in the doghouse and he knew it. The punishment was compounded by my bringing my nephew into the room, both of us ignoring Max, and my making very clear the boy’s rank in the pack above Max.

Max had to be allowed out for essential relief before bed-time, but the whole process was conducted with curt orders and immediate compliance, and ended with a return to solitary confinement.

The following morning, Max seemed to be behaving himself. As far as he was concerned, this was another day, and the pack order had been changed for reasons he was unable to remember. He showed no interest in my nephew, who still wanted to stroke Max, and who had learnt to act important so as to reinforce his status in the pack.

The whole episode was a painful experience for dog and owners alike. The problem is, we love our dog and are fully aware of the extreme circumstances under which his unruly behaviour was being expressed. As a dog, he needs exercise, discipline and affection, in that order, to be a balanced, calm animal. Currently, he is recovering from major surgery on his hind leg and is not able to have all the exercise he needs. To his credit, he has needed very little in the way of discipline during this time of inaction but, perhaps to our discredit, and, because of our anthropomorphic tendencies towards our dog, he has had more than usual affection. Added to this, he found himself in the unusual circumstance of being surrounded with new house guests who had to be fitted into his world view. It is not entirely surprising that he had ideas above his station.

Nevertheless, as responsible dog owners, there is no way that we could tolerate his wrong assessment. We also love our nephew, and would be horrified to think that he came to any harm because of our dog, or even became afraid of dogs. Max wasn’t going to learn the easy way and so he had to learn the hard way. Even so, I wanted to let him out of solitary and tell him that everything was OK, and I found it very hard (but necessary) to hold my nerve and persist with the discipline.

I am reminded of passages in Isaiah where God expresses his anger at the sins of his people, and in the next breath his agony of love for the same offenders, his only desire being to show them mercy.

When we do wrong, we hurt not just the person we sin against, but the God who loves us. The pain he feels is not because he is just and holy but because he loves us and wants us to live in relationship with him. Scripture tells us of a God who is slow to anger but quick to be merciful, who bends over backwards to avert judgement, who sent prophet after prophet to his people with warnings when he could have justifiably dealt out wholesale justice without delay.

Well, I think Max has learnt something. He has certainly been more readily obedient since, and has enjoyed restored favours: he is certainly loved no less for his misdemeanours. I think I have learnt something too. God does not enjoy handing out discipline. He would far rather show mercy but discipline us he will, when we need it to bring correction of behaviour and to restore right relationship to him. I have realised that I cause God double grief by my offences, firstly by the offence itself, and secondly because he has to embark on a course of action that is not pleasurable for him. Furthermore, the purpose of discipline is not to mete out justice but to restore the balance and preserve the good, to make love available to us once more.

That makes me want to live right.

Vision of Delight

I wonder how many people understand what God thinks of them. I mean, really understand what He really thinks. I have, I think, some insight into what He thinks about us because of what I think about my dog.

Max was a rescue dog; we adopted him into our family (more on that one later, perhaps) as a totally unknown quantity. We liked the look of him and, when I get around to uploading a picture of him, you will understand why. Actually, I must confess to being a bit put off by the drooling he demonstrated on his first trial walk with us, and the potentially soggy carpets of which it was a portent. Fortunately, we managed to see past that to - well, what? Obviously, in the 40 minutes or so that we spent with him, we had no idea what he would be like or if we would be able to manage him, especially as we had never owned a dog before. I don't know what it was about him, but we decided to take him on.

He's a big dog, a boxer-labrador cross (I usually explain to people that he runs and dribbles like a boxer and eats and swims like a labrador) and has loads of personality; a great sense of fun, and is full of vitality. Consequently, he needs lots of exercise, and we have no option but to go with him. That is usually no problem because we enjoy the excercise too.

The thing about Max is that he is always behaving like a dog. He spends his whole life doing doggy things. He loves to play with his tennis ball, to chew sticks, to roll about on his back, to run and run and run, to swim, to sniff (all sorts of things), to do the things a dog must do (doggy-doo) and, having done them, to make sure other dogs know he was there (graffiti is much less of a problem when seen in this light). He likes to meet other dogs; sometimes he likes to play with them, and other times, for some reason, take a dislike to them. My amateur behavioural psychology of dogs is not yet well-tuned enough to see for certain who starts the bother that we sometimes get into. Sometimes it's Max, sometimes it isn't.

Whatever he does, he is doing what he is designed to do. He can't help it, he's a dog, and being a dog is what he does best. The point is, I love him being a dog. He delights me in all sorts of ways, just by being what he is, and doing what he does. It is fascinating studying him, and interacting with him. There is one specific aspect of his behaviour that is especially delightful: his willingness to please and live under my authority as his pack leader. Even when he gets things wrong, I still love him, and so I correct him, and he still follows.

What can we draw from all this? Well, God made us as human beings and he really likes what he has made. He doesn't expect us to be anything other than human beings, except, perhaps to be human beings in full possession of our spiritual faculties. He made us with incredible talents and abilities, and I'm sure he is disappointed when we invent all sorts of religious reasons for placing aspects of our God-given make-up off-limits (see the entry on 'Grace'). Of course, there are contexts where our nature may be wrongly indulged but our human condition is not, of itself, abhorrent to God: after all, he brought it into being.

God is most delighted with us when we recognise his authority in our lives and follow him and his plans and purposes for our lives. Even when we get things wrong, he still loves us and corrects us as necessary; always with the intent that we continue to follow him; never to push us away.

So, just as I delight in my dog because he is a dog and want him to be the best dog he can be, God delights in me because I am a human being, and his longing is that I become fully the human being that he made me to be.

Just knowing that God delights in me makes a whole lot of difference to the way I view Him, and approach Him. It makes me feel special just as I am, and does my self-worth a whole heap of good.

Grace

The Grace of God is amazing. I am amazed that I could spend so many years of my Christian life in ignorance of it and in trying to earn the favour I have already been given for free, amazed that I could wander so far from the path and still find a ready welcome on my return, amazed that, eventually, I have begun to realise that His grace and not my effort is the thing that holds me close to God.

So much of what I have learned of the Christian life was, in fact, nothing more than legalism. I have to say that no-one was actually trying to lead me into error; we were all of us sincerely trying to do the best we knew how. Even so, well-meaning people teach new converts rules instead of relationship, and we learn a pattern of behaviour rather than a walk. I ‘grew up’ (from the age of 17 onwards) with a list of things to avoid in order to not be ‘worldy’. I even learned a number of things that I should do in order to be ‘spiritual’. All these things I willingly took on board because of a genuine desire to please, to do right, and, less commendably, to be accepted in my new social circle. I learned to talk authoritatively about things of which I had no real experience, to stand up for things that needlessly erected impenetrable barriers between me and my friends and family.

I have wondered why God puts up with our legalism and our imposition of it on others – and I have done my fair share of that. I think the problem arises because, although we are tuned to the right station, the tuning is poor and interference from other sources confuses the message. Strangely enough, I think that it is precisely because God is gracious that he puts up with our lack of grace. He knew where I was at and where he wanted me but He could not uproot and transplant me too soon without damaging me.

When the time came, He got me moved to University in a whole new city. Lesson number one was that there is life in other denominations (even the Baptist one!) and nowhere near as many taboos! I was daft enough however, to go back after graduation because of some misshapen view of the will of God for my life. It took Him another seven years to move me out again.

Whilst I was always taught that God loves me (and on many occasions was fully aware and convinced of that fact), and that we are saved by grace, not works, I never really understood the enormity of the concept of grace (I think enormity is probably the right word). I found that a lot of the things I was supposed not to do were actually very attractive to me, and the things I was supposed to do did not fit in at all with the way I functioned. (For example, I am not good at rising at 5 o’clock on a Friday morning for a weekly leaders’ prayer meeting and then doing a full day’s work. Why is staying up late to pray less spiritual than getting up early?). Failure to comply brought guilt. Guilt led to separation – well, an assumed separation – not just from God but also from my fellow believers who appeared not to be afflicted with my inadequacies. Discovering that many of the taboos were not actually in the Bible only added to the confusion, and made me feel rebellious because I could see no good reason why I should not enjoy these things but could not admit openly that I did.

(I once read an article in a denominational magazine about the ‘Loophole Mentality.’ The thesis was that Christians who claim that they can do certain things because the Bible does not forbid them have a ‘how much can I get away with’ attitude. It was another way of categorising worldly-mindedness. I think this is pharisaical. Why invent rules that God has not put in place? All that leads to is misplaced guilt. I also think it is farcical because every group’s rules are different. Now, of course there are things best avoided, but what those things are for me depend largely on what my shortcomings are; my limitations should not become blanket restrictions for all. Conversely, I have a responsibility that my liberties do not become stumbling-blocks for you.)

Well, eventually God managed to teach me a lesson about faith, and got me moved to yet another city in the North. Once there, I left behind the narrow straights in which I had been trying to sail and moved into more open waters. It is true to say that many of the behavioural patterns I had learned continued to operate in my life. It is also true to say that many of the unwarranted constraints were off and I began to explore who I was and to make up for lost time. I regret to note that some of the new experiences were sinful ones, and I have been horrified at how low I could sink after so many years of apparent Christian living. Some of my most damaging episodes (to others) left me wondering if I could ever walk with God again. Yet I have been gobsmacked by God’s determination that I should be His. I found myself restored and useful once more – and entirely because of God’s grace. Unfortunately, I continued to be motivated by performance to earn acceptance. Some of us are very slow learners, and old habits die hard.

The biggest blow of all came when my mother’s illness and death from cancer led me into depression. For several years, I could not read the Bible, I wondered if there were really a God, and came close to giving up completely. It is only the grace of God that has kept me. Before this darkness closed in He warned me very clearly what I was to encounter, although I had no idea what the prophetic picture he placed in my mind meant for me at the time I saw it. I had also received a prophetic word that ‘God was going to shatter some of [my] evangelical faith.’ I think the prophet concerned had either misheard God or had been reluctant to give full voice to what he heard: my faith has undergone wholesale demolition. Forewarned truly is fore-armed, and these presages of what was to come became anchors for me in my darkest times.

My only expression of faith in my journey through the darkness has been to say, ‘God, you must hold on to me because I cannot hold on to you.’ If only we could see it, this is exactly how God’s grace operates anyway: we none of us gained entry to or remain in the kingdom of God by our own effort. I am not ‘saved’ because I follow anyone’s rules; I am ‘saved’ because it pleases God to save me. I am learning that I am in a covenant relationship with God; his incomprehensible grace is part of that covenant, and he has held on to me, and I grow in confidence that he will always hold on to me. I am learning (painfully) that God is in no hurry with me, and that when faith grows weak because progress seems so slow, hope looks forward to the day when I shall be a little more tangibly what God wants me to be. He who has begun a good work in me will complete it. I am finally beginning to learn what it means to be a new creation, and not just to talk about it: my present, never mind my future, does not have to be determined by my past. I do not have to walk about with the burden of past failure, or to measure up to anyone’s expectation of what I should be right now.

In my experience, sin has certainly abounded but Grace, I am delighted to say, abounds much more. He gives more Grace; and love, and mercy, and forgiveness, His Holy Spirit, acceptance, sonship, and all he asks of me is that I do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with him. Who has any right to demand more?

Me and My Dog; My God and Me: Introduction

It's surprising what manner of things can inform one's faith. We acquired a dog during the tail end (no pun intended) of an episode of reactive depression triggered by the illness and death of my mother. Apart from the benefits that derive from having a great big, furry friend to cuddle (and I'm talking about the dog, not my wife who is neither great big nor furry), I discovered that my developing relationship with this intelligent animal made me think about my relationship with God in ways I previously had not.

We are, the dog and I, different species and we look at the world in different ways. For all that the British like to treat their dogs as children or anthropomorphised family members, dogs are dogs and they only ever interpret our behaviour in the light of their own understanding. Nevertheless, it is possible to develop a strong and mutually rewarding relationship with a dog. The trick is in communicating with the dog in language that he understands, and abandoning any expectation that he will learn any more than a few words of the Queen's English or accommodate human social conventions.

He is a social animal, like the human being, and that is why we are able to relate as well as we do. Even so, his society is based on the pack with a clear pecking order, and not democratic principles or freedom, fairness and equality. It has to be said that the pack is not a concept foreign to man: even our democratic society has its pecking order, oppressive regimes more so, and criminal and street gangs display pack dynamics with graphic clarity.

So, although we are different, we have points of contact, my dog and I, where our worlds collide; an interface through which we can express our wants and needs, joys and sorrows in ways that the other can understand and so respond. I have discovered many parallels between my two relationships, one with my dog, one with my God, and in this series of articles I intend to unpack them in the hope of encouraging my readers, whoever they may be. There is no heavy theology here, nor is there any intended trivialisation, merely simple observation that can inform the way we live our lives.