Joy in the Journey (5)

​'My life' is a quintessential Iris DeMent song - bittersweet and sung with pathos and a lyrical purity. It laments the brevity of life:

My life, it don't count for nothin'
when I look at this world I feel so small
And my life is only a season, a passing September
that no-one will recall

It is achingly honest about the fruitless struggles and the futility of much of human life:

My life is half the way travelled
and still I have not found my way out of this night
And my life is tangled in wishes
and so many things that just never turned out right

The song takes its own small stand against that wall of emptiness by celebrating the possibility that love can bring joy and comfort in pain, but even they can only "make things seem better for a while".

In Psalm 8, David also movingly reflects on his own finitude against the backdrop of the endless starry sky, but he finds meaning and comfort in knowing that the living God cares for humankind and is mindful of them:

"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory in the heavens...
When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
what is mankind that you are mindful of them,
human beings that you care for them?"

David is humbled and amazed by the sight in the sky and the significance it bears.

And yet, within the beauty of this psalm, all is not well. Embedded within David's meditation are enemies - the foe and the avenger. In this vast cosmos, home to the blended kindness of God, a darkness prevails.

Will it always do so? How can it be banished? The questions that are hinted at are left unanswered but are taken up in Hebrews 2 where the writer is quite plain: yes, it's true that we do not see humanity flourishing as God intended; evil is present, terrorising souls with the endless waste that is death. A great shadow hangs over all of human life - the foe and the avenger are fully present. Tragically, we don't see humanity raised to fulness. But we do see Jesus!

"Jesus, who was made lower than the angels for a little while,
now crowned with glory and honour because he suffered death,
so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone..."

Having drained the cup of suffering and judgement, he calls to us in our bittersweet days, telling us that we are not simply noticed and named but that we can be lifted and loved and filled with immeasurable joy.

Through his cross the darkness has been endured and overcome and a great shadow has departed. The foe and the avenger are silenced through the praises of the redeemed, from the lips even of babes and infants.

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Jesus, Jesus, all-sufficient
Beyond telling is Thy worth;
In Thy Name lie greater treasures
Than the richest found on earth.
Such abundance
Is my portion with my God.

In Thy gracious face there’s beauty
Far surpassing every thing
Found in all the earth's great wonders
Mortal eye hath ever seen
Rose of Sharon,
Thou Thyself art heaven's delight.


William Williams
(tr. Bobi Jones)

Joy in the Journey (4)

Moses saw a bush ablaze, yet not consumed. The ground where he stood was holy, because the living God was present in his burning majesty. And Moses was made to keep his distance. (Exodus 3)

Isaiah saw the LORD, high and lifted up and the train of his robe filled the temple. All was smoke and sublimity. And he was so deeply conscious of the holiness of God that his own uncleanness became a palpable, damning reality. (Isaiah 6)

Peter listens to the man on the shore and casts his nets where he had no expectation of finding fish. He and his friends were overwhelmed by the haul. In the catch, he caught a glimpse of God’s otherness; in that sign, he saw his sin and was humbled to his knees. (Luke 5)

Three men, awed by God’s majesty, made deeply aware of their own fractured and soiled humanity.

And in each case the LORD deals graciously with them:

• Moses the exile is reminded that this is the God of his fathers, the God of promise
• Isaiah’s lips are scorched by coals and told his sin is atoned for
• Peter is told not to fear, because fear has to do with judgement and he is now in the presence of redeeming love.

And in each case the LORD speaks to them of his mission to rescue a lost and broken world and calls them into the service of that rescue plan:

• “So now, go…” (Ex. 3:10)
• “Go and tell this people” (Is. 6:9)
• “From now on you will fish for people” (Lk. 5:10).

Three men shown God’s glory - not to crush them but to commission them; to humble them that they might be raised into serving God and his gospel of grace.

And in that expectation we pray, Lord show us your glory. Amen.

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Lord, speak to me, that I may speak

In living echoes of Thy tone;

As Thou hast sought, so let me seek

Thy erring children lost and lone.

O lead me, Lord, that I may lead

The wandering and the wavering feet;

O feed me, Lord, that I may feed

Thy hungering ones with manna sweet.

O strengthen me, that while I stand

Firm on the rock, and strong in Thee,

I may stretch out a loving hand

To wrestlers with the troubled sea.

O teach me, Lord, that I may teach

The precious things Thou dost impart;

And wing my words, that they may reach

The hidden depths of many a heart.

O give Thine own sweet rest to me,

That I may speak with soothing power

A word in season, as from Thee

To weary ones in needful hour.

O fill me with Thy fulness, Lord,

Until my very heart o’erflow

In kindling thought and glowing word,

Thy love to tell, Thy praise to show.

O use me, Lord, use even me,

Just as Thou wilt, and when, and where,

Until Thy blessed face I see,

Thy rest, Thy joy, Thy glory share!

Frances Ridley Havergal

(1836-79)

After the crisis is past, what then for the church?

This time of crisis will pass. Our lives will return to some kind of normality (no doubt changed and chastened in a variety of ways). There will undoubtedly be an eagerness to reflect on our experiences as churches and to learn from them, from the different way of life we have been forced to live, to highlight the things that need to change and how those changes can be made.

It will be crucial, however, for us to take notice of the right things as we come through this crisis. A prime example, among many, would be technology and its helpfulness. But we must be very careful not to so much ask how technology can help us post-crisis (yes, ask that question, but in the context of a renewed exploration of the biblical portrayal of the church in its life and worship). Ask, rather, how can we take forward the emphasis on corporate prayer, on the simplicity of fellowship expressed in practical service, on a renewed appreciation of and desire for the Word of God, and on a daily, personal reliance upon him. How do we continue to worship him more fervently, in Spirit and in truth. How do we convey to the world the crisis that is humanity before God in its sin and hopelessness.

Because if a church comes through the crisis and isn't more prayerful, isn't more convinced of its need of and dependance upon the Lord and his Word, isn't wanting to be ever closer to him and to each other, then that church would seem to be destined to be endlessly shallow and superficial, that even if it improves and polishes its outer appearance it will only remain a husk, devoid of a quickened life. And what will be true of that church will, of course, in large part, be true of its members.

We will need to focus relentlessly on the right things, on the heart of the matter. Not leaving other things undone or unconsidered but making sure the weightier matters are given their due weight.

How old American hymns became important to Marilynne Robinson

I have reached the point in my life when I can see what has mattered, what has become a part of its substance—I might say a part of my substance. Some of these things are obvious, since they have been important to me in my career as a student and teacher. But some of them I could never have anticipated. The importance to me of elderly and old American hymns is certainly one example. They can move me so deeply that I have difficulty even speaking about them. The old ballad in the voice of Mary Magdalene, who “walked in the garden alone,” imagines her “tarrying” there with the newly risen Jesus, in the light of a dawn which was certainly the most remarkable daybreak since God said, “Let there be light.” The song acknowledges this with fine understatement: “The joy we share as we tarry there / None other has ever known.” Who can imagine the joy she would have felt? And how lovely it is that the song tells us the joy of this encounter was Jesus’s as well as Mary’s. Epochal as the moment is, and inconceivable as Jesus’s passage from death to life must be, they meet as friends and rejoice together as friends. This seems to me as good a gloss as any on the text that tells us God so loved the world, this world, our world. And for a long time, until just a decade ago, at most, I disliked this hymn, in part because to this day I have never heard it sung well. Maybe it can’t be sung well. The lyrics are uneven, and the tune is bland and grossly sentimental. But I have come to a place in my life where the thought of people moved by the imagination of joyful companionship with Christ is so precious that every fault becomes a virtue. I wish I could hear again every faltering soprano who has ever raised this song to heaven. God bless them all.

(from the essay Wondrous Love in When I Was A Child I Read Books, p.125)

Joy in the Journey (3)

In the cool of the day, the LORD God walked in the garden. Instead of running to welcome him, to worship him, the man and his wife hid among the trees in fear of him (Genesis 3:8-10). Sin had entered their lives, spoiled the world and cast a devastating shadow over their relationship with the Creator. And death would follow in its wake.

Fear is a mark of the damage sin has done. It ruptures relationships and is intimately connected to death. It is exploited by evil in all manner of ways to hinder and harm. Fear breeds suspicion. Fear grows selfishness. Fear paralyses and kills love. We know that all too well, to our deep shame.

And so to an upper room…

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.

(John 20:19,20)

Once again it is evening and once again there is fear. But this time it’s fear of man, not the Lord. A fear that the same fate will befall the disciples that had consumed Jesus, their beloved Master. A fear of beating and humiliation; a fear of death.

And then, wonderfully, “Jesus came and stood among them”.

He’s there alive and speaking words of peace. He shows them his hands and his side, the evidence of his slaughter at the hands of his enemies. And their response to such a sight, to the devastating display of the horrors of death and the mauling meted out by sin and evil? “The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.” The one standing among them, whose ruptured side and battered hands are in full view, is the LORD.

And his presence is evidence that the wounds have not won, that death has been dethroned. Far from denying his lordship, these scars are the crown he wears, the vindication of his reign, the symbols of his victory.

And they are the reason why evening fear - all fear - can (and ultimately will) be banished forever.

Peace, perfect peace, in this dark world of sin?

The blood of Jesus whispers peace within.

Peace, perfect peace, by thronging duties pressed?

To do the will of Jesus, this is rest.

Peace, perfect peace, with sorrows surging round?

On Jesus’ bosom naught but calm is found.

Peace, perfect peace, with loved ones far away?

In Jesus’ keeping we are safe, and they.

Peace, perfect peace, our future all unknown?

Jesus we know, and He is on the throne.

Peace, perfect peace, death shadowing us and ours?

Jesus has vanquished death and all its powers.

It is enough: earh's struggles soon shall cease,

And Jesus call us to heaven's perfect peace.

(Edward Henry Bickersteth 1825-1906)

Joy in the Journey (2)

"He will bear the names of the sons of Israel over his heart"

(Exodus 28:29)

Are you suffering from an unquiet heart? As soon as you wake your mind is hyper-vigilant, the cares and uncertainties of the day flood in and you struggle to regain any control over your thinking and emotional response?

It's hard isn't it. And at a time like this especially difficult. But maybe there are some things we can do to help ourselves. Rather than suggest strategies that might or might not help you, I'll mention a few things later on where my own thinking has gone on this (thinking does not, alas, mean practice).

But more than practical steps, important as they are, what truths can we focus on to help centre our thinking and ground our hearts?

Exodus 28 is a beautiful chapter, full of detail about the priestly garments that Aaron and his sons were to wear. Sacred garments, bestowing dignity and honour (v.2). Garments woven and adorned with care and delicate attention - the work of skilled hands (v.6). An ephod and a breastpiece, both mounted with precious stones representing the tribes of Israel, and other garments all radiant and holy.

Read it slowly and notice all the details - the colours, the shapes, the names, the descriptors. It's gorgeous. But notice especially what is to happen in verse 13 and verses 29,30:

“Aaron is to bear the names [of the sons of israel] on his shoulders as a memorial before the LORD..." (v.13)
"whenever Aaron enters the Holy Place he will bear the names of the sons of Israel over his heart on the breastpiece of decision as a continual memorial before the Lord” (v.29)
"...Aaron will always bear the means for making decisions [the Urim and Thummim] for the Israelites over his heart before the LORD.

This is a precious portrayal of the high priestly ministry of our Lord Jesus. As we wake and we enter a new day, possibly anxious and perplexed, he stands before the Lord with our names on his shoulders and upon his heart, holding our days and destinies in his hands - bearing all our hopes, shaping and forming our hearts, watching over our paths, aligning our times with the gracious purposes of God’s heart which stand for ever (Ps. 33:11). He "in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Col. 2:3) is the one who yearns over his people and directs all their ways.

All the way my Saviour leads me:

What have I to ask beside?

Can I doubt His tender mercy,

Who through life has been my guide?

Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,

Here by faith in Him to dwell!

For I know, whate’er befall me,

Jesus doeth all things well,

All the way my Savior leads me:

Cheers each winding path I tread,

Gives me grace for every trial,

Feeds me with the living bread.

Though my weary steps may falter,

And my soul athirst may be,

Gushing from the rock before me,

Lo! a spring of joy I see,

All the way my Savior leads me;

Oh, the fullness of His love!

Perfect rest to me is promised

In my Father’s house above.

When my spirit, clothed, immortal,

Wings its flight to realms of day,

This my song through endless ages -

Jesus led me all the way.

(Frances Jane Van Alstyne)

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So, those practical steps I’m trying to take?

• Limit exposure to news first thing in the morning - if I really need to catch up then do so briefly and not in excessive detail.
• Reading helps to slow the mind, to 'cool' it, so most mornings I try to read a few pages just to make the cogs of vigilance turn more slowly. It might be a Christian book or it might not - this year I've read a couple of books by Robert Macfarlane (The Wild Places and Mountains of the Mind) that have been wonderfully calming, just because they take my mind to other places.
• Reading poetry can also be helpful - if that sounds a bit too cultured, it's not about getting all arty. Why read a poem, if you don't like them, don't get them? Again, it slows your thinking down by exposing your mind to words, things that will make you ponder - or even move you in wonder.
• Reading the Bible - as you settle down to read the Bible, you may find all those thoughts and anxieties forcing their way in, uninvited, and taking the best seats. Try reading the Bible out loud (this helps with focus in prayer too). Or perhaps listen to someone else reading the Bible to you - for some months a little while ago I struggled to quiet my mind to read the Bible so I let David Suchet read it to me (he was always happy to do so, a charming man).
• Using set prayers, not exclusively but as part of your prayer time. There are some great resources out there and you might find yourself breathing air that is somehow clearer and more rarefied.
• As you read, turn off the notifications on your phone or put it into airplane mode - dire emergencies are very rare and will still get through somehow.
• More broadly, why not limit the inputs you allow into your mental space. Each one takes a toll on your ability to attend to what you're truly wanting to focus on.

Joy in the Journey (1)

Something I wrote for church members this week

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I'd like to try to write something, perhaps a couple of times a week, to encourage you during these strange and dislocated days. My prayer is that the Lord will encourage you and strengthen your heart in all his goodness.

The title I've given to these emails is a nod to a lovely song by Michael Card (Joy in the Journey).

All blessings be yours in Jesus,

Richard.

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Trimming the lamps

“In the tent of meeting, outside the curtain that shields the ark of the covenant law, Aaron and his sons are to keep the lamps burning before the LORD from evening till morning.”

(Exodus 27:21)

Life can be so hectic at times and time itself can seem so pressured that some things end up being squeezed into the margins. That can happen to all kinds of things but maybe that's how you've found your times for prayer and Bible reading over some time now. You long for more space, more unhurried time, but it all seems so elusive.

It may well be that these next weeks will give you something of an opportunity to reconnect, to be renewed in prayer and in God's Word. But it’s likely to not feel easy, for a number of reasons:

Where to start?  You feel ‘out of practice’, even awkward. So recognise that it’s going to take time to set a new pattern, maybe even a whole new template, for your time in God’s presence. Don't feel you need to reach your goal overnight; this isn't putting a stake in the ground, but growing a tree (Ps. 1:3), forming your heart.

It might be helpful to remind yourself what it’s all for: that the centre is not gleaning information or bundling requests to lay at God’s door, but rather “to worship the LORD in the splendour of his holiness” (Ps. 96:9); “to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple” (Ps. 27:4). Above all else, it is about sitting at Jesus' feet (Lk. 10:39).

The shame of failure  But it feels like there’s so much accumulated failure to sit in his presence in joy and wonder, so much shame at having lived at such speed that his glory has been a blur, half-seen and unappreciated. Then bring that shame and regret to the LORD who bore it all on the cross, the God who declares “I will put my dwelling place among you and will not abhor you...I broke the bars of your yoke and enabled you to walk with head held high” (Lev. 26:11,13). Not abhorred. Not rejected. You can hold your head high.

The light that never goes out  And, remember, the true fulfilment of the lamp that doesn’t ever go out (Ex 27:21) is not the flame of your own devotion but the unwavering love of God, revealed in the cross of Jesus and poured into your heart by his Spirit. His is the light that is never extinguished; not all the squalls of life and its alarms, nor the gales of sin and bitter regret can make it ever burn low. The lamp of Jesus’ glory and grace are undimmed and shine brightly through all our darkness.

None other Lamb, none other Name,

None other hope in heaven or earth or sea,

None other hiding-place from guilt and shame,

None beside Thee.

My faith burns low, my hope burns low;

Only my heart's desire cries out in me

By the deep thunder of its want and woe,

Cries out to Thee.

Lord, Thou art life, though I be dead;

Love's fire Thou art, however cold I be:

Nor heaven have I, nor place to lay my head,

Nor home, but Thee.

(Christina Rossetti)

May God bless you deeply and richly as you seek him.