On Sunday Services as Prophetic Statements

Tim Challies has stirred the pot on the subject of Sunday evening services and many have expressed their appreciation and agreement. I’m guessing that there are others who don’t share his viewpoint, nor accept his arguments, who have kept their heads down - you can’t enter every debate after all.

I’m not arguing with his approach, but would simply observe that it’s rather anecdotal (which has a place in discussion, of course) and therefore open to significant pushback. What I want to ask is if there is a line of reasoning that could yield the same overall conclusion yet with more biblical engagement? I think there is.

It seems to me that the pattern of the early church has something to say to us. I don’t believe it necessarily has the force of biblical prescription, but I do think their practice is worthy of deeper reflection. They didn’t do what they did for nothing, after all.

It would appear from the biblical account that churches in the New Testament met on the first day of the week (see, for example, Acts 20:7 and 1 Cor 16:2). But at what time of day did they do so and why did they choose that day? Let’s take those in order.

An extra-biblical reference to their practice (Pliny’s letter to the Emperor Trajan, in the early 2nd century AD) speaks of them being

“accustomed to meet on a fixed day before dawn and sing responsively a hymn to Christ as to a god, and to bind themselves by oath, not to some crime, but not to commit fraud, theft, or adultery, not falsify their trust, nor to refuse to return a trust when called upon to do so. When this was over, it was their custom to depart and to assemble again to partake of food—but ordinary and innocent food.”

So, at least part of the early church (churches in Turkey) met early in the morning, presumably early enough for those who were slaves to still be ‘at work’ in good time. They also seem to have met later in the day, which would accord with the references in the New Testament to churches sharing in ‘the Lord’s Supper’, a term that can only refer to a meal towards twilight.

Their pattern is interesting to observe. But it becomes something more than that when we consider their reasons for doing so. What made them opt to do it this way?

I’d suggest their choice was not driven by pragmatism nor convenience - they didn’t choose the first day of the week because that was an accepted rest day in their society and would do nicely for them as well. Nor would I subscribe to the notion that they had transposed the Sabbath onto the first day of the week (I can’t see the evidence for that in the New Testament). So what reason could they have had?

I think the clue is in the repeated use of 'the first day of the week' to refer to the day on which they gathered together. When John opens his resurrection narrative in John 20 with the seemingly-small detail that it was "early on the first day of the week", it is not difficult in the light of how his gospel opened ('In the beginning…') to see a reference to the new creation that Jesus had inaugurated by his triumph over death. Meeting together on the first day of the week would be a potent and prophetic declaration by the early church of that reality - that the light of a new day had dawned with liberating power, that a new creation had begun to be birthed.

It becomes possible, in the light of this creation/new creation motif, to see that a gathering of the church both morning and evening could be viewed as reflecting the creation narrative of Genesis 1 & 2 ('and there was evening and there was morning…'). However, the absence of explicit biblical injunction for the pattern should allow for a degree of sympathetic and pastoral flexibility in the matter.

In this way, Challies’ point about an evening service being counter-cultural might take on greater weight. Churches gathering at both ends of the day would not be about pragmatism, nor a matter of biblical prescription but, rather, a deliberate and prophetic statement to a culture of death that there is life in the Saviour, celebrating and proclaiming hope in a world of despair and witnessing to the coming of a new creation in which God is all and is in all.

Of course, merely having a pattern that proclaims those realities is not enough if our gatherings fail to reflect such newness and hope, or if those responses are not also evident throughout the week. The form is not a formula. But it may well be that such a pattern becomes a real tonic for ourselves and a great service to the world around us.

The verse that Satan did not dare to quote

When assaulting Jesus with temptations, Satan quoted from Psalm 91,

He will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands
so that you will not strike your foot
against a stone. (v.12)

I wonder why he didn’t go on to remind Jesus of the very next verse in that psalm?

You will tread upon the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent. (v.13)

Coward.

How a failure was recovered

He was a deserter; a failure. And the cause of a sharp disagreement between two Christian workers, one of them his uncle. So sharp in fact that they no longer worked together, despite years of supportive service (Acts 15:36ff).

Later on, the one who had objected to his continued presence on the team, speaks of him in very warm terms. Paul says that he has proved himself to be a valuable colleague in gospel work; "he is helpful to me in my ministry" (2 Tim 4:11).

So how did the change come about? How was this fallible young man recovered? Who was it that mentored him into being a faithful gospel servant?

Barnabas took Mark and sailed for Cyprus. (Acts 15:39)

Presumably, the one who didn’t give up on him.

Ted Hughes: The Horses

He may not be everyone’s cup of tea, even in Yorkshire, but this poem by Ted Hughes has great power and beauty. From the collection, The Hawk in the Rain.

The Horses

I climbed through woods in the hour-before-dawn dark.
Evil air, a frost-making stillness,

Not a leaf, not a bird -
A world cast in frost. I came out above the wood

Where my breath left tortuous statues in the iron light.
But the valleys were draining the darkness

Till the moorline - blackening dregs of the brightening grey -
Halved the sky ahead. And I saw the horses:

Huge in the dense grey - ten together - 
Megalith-still. They breathed, making no move,

with draped manes and tilted hind-hooves,
Making no sound.

I passed: not one snorted or jerked its head.
Grey silent fragments

Of a grey silent world.

I listened in emptiness on the moor-ridge.
The curlew’s tear turned its edge on the silence.

Slowly detail leafed from the darkness. Then the sun
Orange, red, red erupted

Silently, and splitting to its core tore and flung cloud,
Shook the gulf open, showed blue,

And the big planets hanging -.
I turned

Stumbling in the fever of a dream, down towards
The dark woods, from the kindling tops,

And came to the horses.
                                      There, still they stood,
But now steaming and glistening under the flow of light,

Their draped stone manes, their tilted hind-hooves
Stirring under a thaw while all around them

The frost showed its fires. But still they made no sound.
Not one snorted or stamped,

Their hung heads patient as the horizons,
High over valleys in the red levelling rays -

In din of crowded streets, going among the years, the faces,
May I still meet my memory in so lonely a place 

Between the streams and the red clouds, hearing the curlews, 
Hearing the horizons endure.

How to know the truth

Jesus’ words in John 8:31,32 seem to speak of a knowing via the pathway of faith and obedience:

If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.

Knowing the truth is consequent to holding to Jesus’ teaching, honouring him with our faith and obeying him as his disciples. Even if the kai in v.32 is simply translated as ‘and’ and not ‘then’, there still seems to be a progression in what he is saying; that knowing follows the doing of faith and obedience.

Of course, we ought to expect just this in the light of the wisdom of the Book of Proverbs, that

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge (Prov. 1:7a)

A genuine reverence for the LORD which results in changed thoughts and actions is the precondition for truly knowing.

The implications of this, it seems to me, are surely significant, both pastorally and evangelistically.

Justification

Justification

Latest issue of Credo magazine now online.

seeing glory//being sent (an observation)

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.

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.

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.

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 simply told not to fear, presumably because fear has to do with judgement and he is now in the presence of the source 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…”; “Go and tell this people”; “From now on you will fish for people”.

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.

Colonialist, proselytizing missionaries...

The Surprising Discovery About Those Colonialist, Proselytizing Missionaries: They didn'€™t set out to change history. But one modern scholar's research shows they did just that.

A positive assessment of the impact of missions.

A different kind of low and high church

These words by Steven Covey (HT: Matt Perman) are very challenging when applied to church culture:

A low-trust culture is filled with bureaucracy, excessive rules and regulations, restrictive, closed systems. In the fear of some “loose cannon,” people set up procedures that everyone has to accommodate.

The level of initiative is low — basically “do what you’re told.” Structures are pyramidal, hierarchical. Information systems are short-term. The quarterly bottom line tends to drive the mentality in the culture.

In a high-trust culture, structures and systems are aligned to create empowerment, to liberate people’s energy and creativity toward agreed-upon purposes within the guidelines of shared values. There’s less bureaucracy, fewer rules and regulations, more involvement.

What sort of environment are we fostering? Are people flourishing, truly?

Seven Standards for Good [Preaching]

Seven Standards for Good [Preaching]

What is good writing? This book isn’€™t very good. That one is. But what is this ‘good’€? Some might say good writing is only a matter of preference, but that gives too much power to one with limited …

The article is actually about what makes for good writing but if you substitute ‘sermon’ for ‘writing’ and ‘preacher’ for ‘writer’ then there’s a heap of stuff in here to provoke preachers to helpful thinking about their work.

Lessons from a quirky preacher

If I say, 'I heard someone preaching recently who….', promise me you won’t try to guess who it was. Just relax; it wasn’t you - ok? Because I heard someone preaching recently who I really struggled to listen to and I’ve been thinking about that experience and what it teaches me about my own preaching and how it might be perceived.

So here’s how it was (for me):

• His manner seemed really quite unnatural - the guy was very different in personal conversation to how he was when preaching. Now, of course, that’s probably true of all preachers to varying degrees - preaching isn’t, in the nature of it, a face-to-face over a coffee somewhere. But this was more than that. His verbal delivery and the use of his body bordered on being odd at times. I’m trying not to be unkind, but that’s how it was. It left me feeling strangely disconnected from him and from his message, because it was disconnected from his own norms.
• He was very passionate about what he was preaching on - hooray; nothing worse than insipid preaching. It’s not a talk about Tupperware, after all. But there was something about the intensity of his passion that acted as a kind of force-field around him and around the whole experience of trying to engage with him. You could enter but only if you were willing to let it be wholly determinative for you, if you were willing to ‘surrender to the void’.
• He really wanted to do justice to the Bible, to convey its message and to persuade us of its importance and application. I have no doubts about that and, again, it was a very welcome trait. But there were aspects of what he was saying that raised legitimate questions - questions about interpretation, questions about application - yet the whole manner of the address left me feeling that they simply could not be asked. What he was saying had to be received in toto, as a job-lot, or not at all.

The whole experience - the quirky, unnatural manner; the intensity of the delivery; the brook-no-argument style, even where it would be legitimate - left me feeling unable to really engage with what he was saying and, ultimately, standing outside his world. And, if I’m honest, a little judged for being outside.

It’s the last thing he would have wanted, I’m sure. And it’s the last thing I, as a hearer, wanted. Yet it happened.

I think there are significant lessons in that whole experience for me as a preacher:

• I need to try to minimise the differences between how I come across in a public-speaking situation and how I am in more regular scenarios. There has to be more continuity between the two, not less, even whilst acknowledging that there will be valid differences.
• I want to preach with passion but it has to be a passion that breathes a genuine invitation, that speaks of a world that is open and that can be engaged without an uncritical capitulation to the personality of the preacher.
• I want to preach faithful to the Bible yet in a manner and with words that encourage further reflection, that open a dialogue. It strikes me that this is especially important when people who are not Christians are listening.

In the bare winter trees

Today would have been Dad’s 94th birthday. He passed away shortly before his 86th.

And from my window I’m looking at trees that are bare of all life and silenced in the almost complete stillness of the morning air. An occasional bird stops by to see if they hold anything for them, but soon continues on its way, unfed. The ground holds last night’s frost to itself, dense and compact, admitting of no release. A life has gone.

And the sky is the blue of his eyes and the sun is rising still.

Leah: pain and praise

Genesis 29:31-35 records the birth and naming of Jacob’s first four sons by Leah. Interestingly, it is she who names the children, not Jacob (is he really that disinterested?) and the names, along with the reasoning behind them, give us insight into Leah’s handling of the pain of her situation.

When the first son is born, she names him Reuben because she believes the LORD has seen her misery, being relatively unloved by her husband. Her hope is that Jacob will love her now.

But that seems not to be the case. When her second son is born, she names him Simeon because the LORD has heard she is (still) not loved. The fond hopes that surrounded the birth of Reuben were clearly not fulfilled; Jacob loves Rachel only.

Leah’s pain evidently continues. When her third son is born she names him Levi, ardently hoping that now, at last, his birth will cause her husband to be attached to her. It seems a forlorn hope. She has been placed in an intolerable situation and not by her own choice. She is deeply pained at Jacob’s rejection of her and longs for him to have a change of heart in order to heal the pain in hers. But it seems Jacob is unmoved by the LORD’s giving sons to them and is blind to the LORD’s favour towards Leah.

Yet when her fourth son is born, she names him Judah saying, "This time I will praise the LORD". No mention now of her husband, nor of her desperate desire to be loved and accepted by him (an entirely understandable and legitimate desire).

Leah, so slighted and demeaned, is not abandoned in her misery and with the birth of Judah she recognises this. No doubt the pain remains but she is able now to praise the LORD out of her pain. Reconciled to her situation, she is able to rejoice in the God who is ever-loving and ever-loyal to his people. "This time" her focus is higher than her husband and her joy greater than he could arouse or sustain. To be loved and accepted by the LORD and to know his favour means more than anything else could.

The struggle with her sister and her husband would be a running sore and would return soon enough (see the next chapter) but maybe it’s no coincidence that at this point, for a time at least, "she stopped having children".

16 Resolutions for Preachers in 2014

16 Resolutions for Preachers in 2014. | Scribblepreach

Some helpful stuff in here for preachers to chew over.

behaviour, not bad exegesis

In Lk. 20:45ff, Jesus “does not challenge the scribes for their misreading of scripture but for their behaviour. Behaviour, not bad exegesis, disqualifies them as interpreters." DA Garland, Luke (ZECNT) emphasis mine

a preacher's humility

"true doctrine eliminates arrogance through reflection, because right teaching attacks arrogance in the teacher’s heart. It ensures that the humility it aims to instill in the listeners’ hearts is actually preached by a humble man. For humility, the mother of virtues, teaches by word and demonstrates by example. 

The goal of true doctrine is to express humility among disciples more by deeds than by words. When Paul tells his disciples, “These things command and teach with all power” (1 Tim. 4:11), he means the credibility that comes with good behaviour rather than the domineering exercise of power. When one practices first and preaches afterward, one is really teaching with power.”

Gregory the Great (ironic, huh! But I guess that’s what others called him) from Awakening Faith

grace leads to repentance

"I do not think that an emphasis on grace leads to a soft ministry on sin and the severe demands of the law. Actually, it seems to me that such grace teaching makes it possible for sinners like us to hear the hardest things said about our sin patterns, and that can lead into a healthy sorrow which then leads back to sanity, i.e. repentance."

Jack Miller, The Heart of a Servant Leader, p.60

creation: preparing for worship

When God acts on Day 4 to create the sun and moon to separate day from night, the stated purpose is very anthropocentric, very Israel-centric, and focussed on the worship of the God who creates.

How so? Well, the lights in the vault of the sky are there to “serve as signs to mark seasons, and days and years” (Genesis 1:14, NIV 1984). But ‘seasons’ speaks to more than just phases of the year - the term is associated with the cultic calendar, with the set times for festivals. You can’t go far into the Old Testament without seeing that the overwhelming use of the term is for the tent of meeting and the feasts associated with it. Hence the NIV 2011 translation of ‘seasons’ in Genesis 1:14 as ‘sacred times’ - appointed times for feasts and festivals.

Sun and moon are created not simply as markers of the changing seasons for practical purposes but, deliberately, to allow for sacred times - the hallowing of time, the ordering of engagement with the God who created all things. Those markers are clearly tied to the provisions of the Old Testament (and therefore created with OT Israel in view), for as Paul notes in Colossians 2:17, those festivals and days were “a shadow of the things to come; the reality…is found in Christ.”

And so, in the new heavens and earth, when all things have been made new, we discover that there will be no sun or moon (Rev. 21:23): no regulation of festal times, for all time will be festal and filled with the fulness of the presence of God; no longer will there be seasons, for the tree of life will bear fruit every month (Rev. 22:2), its leaves for the healing of the nations, bathed in the light of the reconciling God and of the Lamb.

no more night

The Bible begins with darkness - a darkness that was over the surface of the deep. As the Bible draws to a close, a future is promised where “there will be no more night” (Revelation 22:5); no more darkness or chaos. But that darkness will be dispelled without the light of a lamp or the light of the sun. How so? “The LORD God will give them light.”

The creation of sun, moon and stars for light on the earth is seen to have been a temporary and prophetic provision, pointing forward to a day when the whole creation will be ablaze with true light, the light of a glory that is full of grace and truth, a glory that banishes the curse, that brings to an end the old order of things, that presages a future without pain, that ushers in a future healed of sorrows - the glory of the eternal God, seen in the face of his Son, Jesus Christ.

And so we say, with longing and hope, “Amen; come, Lord Jesus.”

not praying for revival, but

still praying for it. David Murray links to this post by Mike Leake and says he would add to it, ‘Send Holy Spirit-led revival’ but then adds, “Or maybe these five prayers would be a revival.” Seems to me he’s onto something there - praying for those things that would, when they occur, constitute revival. It makes our prayers much more specific and focussed and, I’d argue, more biblical.