Jonathan Edwards on Christ the Spiritual Sun

The beams of this spiritual Sun don’t only refresh but restore the souls of believers. Thus it is said that the Sun of righteousness [shall arise] with healing [in his wings]. These beams heal the souls of believers. As we often see that when the trees or plants of the earth are wounded, the beams of the sun will heal the wound and by degrees restore the plant, so the sweet beams of the Sun of righteousness heal the wounds of believers’ souls. When they have been wounded by sin and have laboured under the pain of wounds of conscience, the rays of this Sun heal the wounds of conscience. When they have been wounded by temptation and made to fall to their hurt, those benign beams, when they come to shine on the wounded soul, restore and heal the hurt that has been received.

(Sermon on Christ the Spiritual Sun)

Joy in the Journey (15) - In Your Light, We See Light

It's getting lighter earlier in the morning and lingering longer in the evening. Spring is so very welcome. Yet the days are, in another sense, darker. Shrouded in anxiety and incomprehension, the future uncertain and unyielding; we can say very little that has a settled certainty.

Psalm 36 was written in desperately dark times. The author is in a society where "there is no fear of God before their eyes". Everything was bleak; there were no signs of hope. Nothing could pierce the unrelenting gloom.

And then the sun rises: "Your love, LORD, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies." All is not lost; life has a security, an anchor for hope. The righteousness and justice of God have not failed. There is refuge in the shadow of his wings, a feasting on his abundance, a drinking in of his delights.

And visibility and clarity are unexpectedly experienced, the darkness dispelled: "In your light we see light".

The light of God's character and ways provide illumination for his people. He is the source of all light, of all truth and goodness. In the book of Revelation, John sees that the new Jerusalem has no need of the light of sun or moon because "the glory of God gives it light and the Lamb is its lamp". Pure, uncreated and unmediated light. Light that banishes darkness, overcoming it through the cross. Light that is not susceptible to any dimming. Light that is clearer than the purest air. Light that sings as it shines.

The psalmist doesn't simply say that we see other things by the light of God. He says, "in your light we see light". We see truth and goodness, we experience the reality that "with you is the fountain of life". We come to know and understand what light really is. That God is light and in him is no darkness at all. That light is of his very essence.

Psalm 119:130 will later add that "the unfolding of your words gives light". Like a flower blossoming and releasing its intoxicating sweetness, the Lord's words have captivating and rejuvenating power, giving direction and hope even in the darkest of days, illuminating our inmost being with the true light of God, even making us to be "light in the Lord" (Eph 5:8). Which means we do well, as Peter says, "to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning sun rises in our hearts" (2 Peter 1:19).

That day will dawn. That sun shall rise. Hallelujah!

************

Eternal Light! Eternal Light!
How pure the soul must be,
When, placed within Thy searching sight,
It shrinks not, but with calm delight
Can live and look on Thee.

The spirits that surround Thy throne
May bear the burning bliss;
But that is surely theirs alone,
Since they have never, never known
A fallen world like this.

O how shall I, whose native sphere
Is dark, whose mind is dim,
Before the Ineffable appear,
And on my naked spirit bear
The uncreated beam?

There is a way for man to rise
To that sublime abode:
An offering and a sacrifice,
A Holy Spirit’s energies,
An Advocate with God.

These, these prepare us for the sight
Of holiness above;
The sons of ignorance and night
Can dwell in the eternal Light,
Through the eternal Love.

(Thomas Binney, 1798-1874)

Joy in the Journey (14) - Everything We Need

"Everything we need" 2 Peter 1:3

What do you need to get you through these days? They seem to hold unique demands and challenges, unknown by us before, certainly not in their detail. Yet we recognise the broader contours: faith in adversity; hope in God; self-denial and loving service.

Peter has good news for his readers: they have been given all they need for life and godliness. Not life as 'your best life now', nor godliness as life behind a shuttered door, isolated and insulated from the sufferings of this present age. But life as taking up our cross and following Jesus and godliness as likeness to one who came to seek and to save the lost, open and vulnerable, deeply compassionate and redemptive in all his words and ways.

All we need for such a life is ours, says Peter, by "his divine power...through our knowledge of the one who called us by his glory and goodness". Each part of that statement is worth pondering, each word yields further wonders:

• Divine power: God's own power, that ennobles life and empowers to endure suffering (as Paul tells Timothy in 2 Tim 1:8b), power to share in his divine life.
• Called by his glory and goodness: the radiant Jesus calls us in grace, unveils his merciful face, reveals what true goodness and virtue is, and captivates our hearts with the sight. Calls, draws; irresistibly.

But, notice, the divine power that equips us for life and godliness comes "through our knowledge of him". And because this isn't a once-for-all knowing, Peter closes the letter with a plea, an exhortation, to "grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ." His own departure is at hand and he is desperate for them to press onwards - futher up and further in - by knowing Jesus and experiencing his grace.

Which means action on our part; it cannot but do. This isn't knowing by spiritual osmosis or passivity. The kind of action is memorably laid out in Ps. 119:99f "I have insight, for I meditate on your statutes; I have understanding, for I obey your precepts." Insight and understanding through meditation and obedience.

Growing in grace and knowing Jesus isn't the work of seconds or minutes; it can't be Tweeted or Insta'd. It comes from real, settled, open-faced prayer and reflection, worked-out in daily attention to the opportunities to honour and serve the Lord, walking in his ways. And leaning hard into all his "very great and precious promises" (v.4). Promises of mercy, of sustaining grace, of his presence and tender care, of ultimate security and the renewal of all things. Great and precious.

The days are demanding, we all recognise that. But we are not abandoned; we are not cut loose, doomed to drift on a sea of desolation. We have been given all we need, for all that the Lord calls us to, through knowing him and growing in knowing him, embracing all he has so freely promised.

***********

Lord Jesus Christ, we seek Thy face;
Within the veil we bow the knee;
O let Thy glory fill the place,
And bless us while we wait on Thee.

We thank Thee for the precious blood
That purged our sins and brought us nigh,
All cleansed and sanctified to God,
Thy holy Name to magnify.

Shut in with Thee, far, far above
The restless world that wars below,
We seek to learn and prove Thy love,
Thy wisdom and Thy grace to know.

The brow that once with thorns was bound,
Thy hands, Thy side, we fain would see;
Draw near, Lord Jesus, glory-crowned,
And bless us while we wait on Thee.

Alexander Stewart, 1843-1923

Joy in the Journey (13) - Precious Faith

None of us knows what will happen next. All we can say is that it looks like life won't be the same again, whatever that might mean. And not knowing, not being able to predict with any certainty, can so easily shake and unsettle us.

When Peter wrote his second letter, his readers were facing the prospect of a 'new normal'. The age of the apostles was passing and would soon be gone (Peter talks about his own impending death in 1:14). The fixed points of security for their life and experiences as Christians were becoming loosened and their moorings slipped. Those who had known Jesus personally would soon be no more. How would they cope? What would the future hold? How do you even begin to imagine, let alone live from, a new normal?

Peter was writing to prepare them for that and sets his course from the very start when he says [you] "have received a faith as precious as ours." (1:1)

As an apostle, that is quite a statement for him to make. Everything, it seemed, was on Peter and the other apostles' side and was absent from those he was writing to. They could easily feel they had been given a second class ticket and sold just a little short on their journey.

But Peter is quite clear: their faith is as precious as that of the apostles. How so?

Because faith isn't fundamentally about our social location. In his first letter he details where they lived - Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia; a very wide variety of places and peoples. But faith isn't circumscribed by circumstances.

Nor does faith hinge on our place in history and our access to the physical reality of the life and ministry of Jesus. Peter had indeed seen Jesus, heard him teach, watched him die and seen him alive, resurrected. He had witnessed the transfiguration, which he mentions in 1:16-18, an experience that only 3 of the apostles shared in. But none of that elevates his faith beyond theirs. As Jesus told Thomas, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed."

And faith isn't a matter of our personality, nor our psychology. Those may influence how we experience it but they do not determine its worth or value. They are not what allows us to call faith 'precious'.

So what does? It's all down to its object, its focus: "our God and Saviour Jesus Christ" and the means by which that faith is given and received: "through [his] righteousness". It is Jesus and his precious person, his wonderful and unimpeachable faithfulness and integrity, and all in our place as Saviour - that is what makes faith so very precious. His consummate heart and his completed work.

And that is not in the slightest changed by the new normal we will enter. Because he is not changed, over all the years, through all the variations of our feelings and fortunes and failings. He gifts faith; he is its supreme object and delight. He walks with us as his people into all our tomorrows, carrying us in all our sorrows and sustaining his own life within us.

Through a faith that is immutably precious.

************

Jesus, the very thought of Thee
With sweetness fills my breast;
But sweeter far Thy face to see,
And in Thy presence rest.

Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find
A sweeter sound than Thy blest Name,
O Saviour of mankind!

O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
To those who fall how kind Thou art!
How good to those who seek!

But what to those who find? Ah! this
Nor tongue nor pen can show:
The love of Jesus, what it is
None but His loved ones know.

Jesus, our only joy be Thou,
As Thou our prize wilt be;
Jesus, be Thou our glory now,
And through eternity.


Bernard of Clairvaux, 1091-1153
tr. by Edward Caswall, 1814-78

The hard work of believing God's heart is merciful and gracious

The Christian life, from one angle, is the long journey of letting our natural assumption about who God is, over many decades, fall away, being slowly replaced with God’s own insistence on who he is. This is hard work. It takes a lot of sermons and a lot of suffering to believe that God’s deepest heart is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger.” The fall in Genesis 3 not only sent us into condemnation and exile. The fall also entrenched in our minds dark thoughts of God, thoughts that are only dug out over multiple exposures to the gospel over many years. Perhaps Satan’s greatest victory in your life today is not the sin in which you regularly indulge but the dark thoughts of God’s heart that cause you to go there in the first place and keep you cool toward him in the wake of it.

Dane Ortlund, Gentle and Lowly, loc. 1922

Joy in the Journey (12) - Why Jesus got up early to pray

"Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed..."

Mark 1:35-39 is a great lesson in quiet time maintenance: get up early, far away from other people, and pray. Except it isn’t. It’s much deeper and more significant than that. Those are things you or I might find helpful but they’re scarcely determinative. And they're certainly not the point of this passage.

Jesus goes out to a solitary place - a wilderness place. He’s been to that kind of place fairly recently in this chapter, "At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him."

What was going on back there? The God-determined testing of Jesus. Mark doesn’t give as full an account of it as Matthew and Luke; he simply notes it took place and that wild beasts were present and angels ministered to Jesus there. Fast forward to verses 35-39 and we see Jesus choosing to rise very early and go out to pray in a wilderness place. How do they connect?

The night before, he healed and delivered scores of people - the whole town had gathered at the door. And when the disciples eventually find him on this morning they give him the (hardly surprising) news that everyone is looking for him. They love him - he’s a great guy to have around! No doubt they want him to stay, for a long time. Who wouldn’t?

And Jesus tells his disciples that he’s not going to stay, that he’s instead going on to the other towns and villages, because he has to preach the gospel there too.

The clamour of the townspeople is a powerful temptation, more dangerous than the wild beasts in the wilderness. Everyone likes to be popular; the pull of a crowd is subtle and subversive - and will eat you for breakfast. And so Jesus gets up very early (before breakfast) to pray, so he can resist the temptation to settle for being popular and being needed and to maintain his focus on what really matters most for him: taking the gospel to those who haven't heard it. So he can spend time delighting himself in his Father that his heart might be strengthened in desiring and choosing all that is good and reject the corrupted.

We're people who are vulnerable to temptation, which is why the Lord's Prayer directs us to ask that we not be put to the test but delivered from evil. Every day is an obstacle course of 'the world, the flesh and the devil'. Jesus' example shows our need to pray in the light of that, looking to align ourselves with the will of our Father in heaven and his gospel, in opposition to the tempations we daily face. When the wilderness is replaced by a garden, his prayer remains, "Not my will but yours be done".

We all know the sad truth that we are prone to wander (and we feel it). We're often blind to the real issues at play in our lives and to the concealed heart of the temptations we face. Some of the details may have changed recently but the essence remains. Our Lord Jesus knew he needed to pray to resist temptation, to keep his heart's focus on what mattered most. He needed to pray to see clearly what he was facing and to enter into the struggle and make the choices that would honour his Father and his mission. So do we.

And yet, knowing that all too well, we're very often like the disciples in the garden - having been exhorted to watch and pray that they wouldn't fall into temptation, they instead fall into sleep. But our Saviour recognises his disciples' vulnerability, mercifully acknowledging that "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak" (it remains so). A Saviour who stays awake and continues to pray, who continues to doggedly pursue his way to the cross that he might give himself to rescue us from all harm, from all temptation and sin.

That's why he got up so early.

**********

O Jesus Christ, grow Thou in me,
And all things else recede;
My heart be daily nearer Thee,
From sin be daily freed.

Each day let Thy supporting might
My weakness still embrace;
My darkness vanish in Thy light,
Thy life my death efface.

In Thy bight beams, which on me fall,
Fade every evil thought;
That I am nothing, Thou art all,
I would be daily taught.

More of Thy glory let me see,
Thou Holy, Wise, and True!
I would Thy living image be,
In joy and sorrow too.

Fill me with gladness from above,
Hold me by strength divine!
Lord, let the glow of Thy great love
Through my whole being shine.

Make this poor self grow less and less,
Be Thou my life and aim;
O make me daily, through Thy grace,
More meet to bear Thy name!


Johann Casper Lavater (1741-1801)
tr. Elizabeth Lee Smith (1817-98)

Joy in the Journey (11) - More than you can now bear

"I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear..." (John 16:12)

We have many questions and, often, so few answers. Some of them are not coherent, coming from an agony so desperate they feel more like accusations than questions. Where is God? What is he doing? Why isn't he doing more and more often? How can he choose to live in this mess?

There is much we need to know and much we want to know, especially at a time like this. On an evening of very many questions, spoken and retained, Jesus says to his disciples, "I have much more to say to you..." There's no intention to exclude them from knowing, from understanding. Rather, he intends to speak, to communicate, from the depths of God's mind to theirs, even with all their limitations.

But the time wasn't right for those disciples: "I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear..."

I wonder how you'd have reacted to that? How you react in applying these words to yourself?

Perhaps you think Jesus is suggesting fault on the disciples' part - that he had more to say and they really ought to be able to hear it, but there's a lack in them. They're just not mature enough and they really ought to be by now. Because that's how you see your own relationship with the Lord - if something isn't happening now, isn't clear now, it's always because of a deficiency on your part. If there's blame to go around you're the natural home for it; you're a low-cost dumping ground for shame.

Or maybe your elemental response is that any talk of not being able to bear it means he's got bad news for them. News that is so devastating they couldn't take it at that moment. Because isn't that how it is in this world - we're always waiting to be told the calamity we feared most has now happened?

The first response is deeply sad and betrays a terrible insecurity. That really isn't how things are in life with Jesus as Lord. All lack is not down to you. Yes, the disciples could've done better many times but this isn't about their deficiencies. Whenever Jesus says something oblique it isn't to skewer you in your failures.

As for the second response, we need to remember that anything and everything that's bad in this world is only and ever penultimate; it isn't the final reality. We need to hold onto that.

And hold onto it with this in our hands: what they could not at that point bear was the fuller truth about Jesus. That all would be well and all manner of things would be well. They simply were incapable of holding within their hearts and minds the weight of glory that was going to be unveiled in the plan of God for the healing of the cosmos. The radiance of Jesus and the splendour of God's wisdom in all he would accomplish that would lead the apostle Paul to utter a memorable "O the depths!" (Rom 11:33)

Being told they were unable to bear the truth was not Jesus finger-pointing, nor was he alluding to sinister outcomes. Holding back what they couldn't then bear was a mercy, not a withdrawal of privilege. It was a recognition of their current frailty.

But of course that wasn't all Jesus said. He told them they couldn't then bear it but the Spirit of Truth was coming and, when he comes, he would lead them into all truth. He would usher them into that fuller sight of the glory and ways of Jesus, the radiance of the gospel. The light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of the Messiah (2 Cor 4:6).

And there lies our own encouragement and hope. Not that we, now living after Pentecost and being indwelt by the Spirit and having the whole Bible, have all the answers to every question and have scaled every peak of biblical insight. We simply don't and haven't. But we are invited to grow, to mature, through the work of the Spirit. Asking him to open our eyes to more of the glory of Jesus and to the ways of God that are higher than ours. To be our teacher through these days when we feel like amateurs, newcomers to walking by faith not by sight; growing us to bear more of the weight of the glory of Jesus.

That, increasingly, our experience would be that "we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord who is the Spirit." (2 Cor 3:18)

*********

Come, Holy Spirit, like a dove descending,
Rest Thou upon us while we meet to pray;
Show us the Saviour, His great love revealing;
Lead us to Him, the Life, the Truth, the Way.

Come, Holy Spirit, every cloud dispelling;
Fill us with gladness, through the Master's Name:
Bring to our memory words that He hath spoken;
Then shall our tongues His wondrous grace proclaim.

Come, Holy Spirit, send from God the Father,
Thou Friend and Teacher, Comforter and Guide;
Our thoughts directing, keep us close to Jesus,
And in our hearts for evermore abide.


Robert Bruce

Some current Kindle theological bargains

Paul and the Trinity: Persons, Relations, and the Pauline Letters - Wesley Hill

Paul, Apostle of Liberty - Richard Longenecker

When the Kings Come Marching In: Isaiah and the New Jerusalem - Richard Mouw

God's Saving Grace: A Pauline Theology - Frank Mattera

Reading Jesus's Bible: How the New Testament Helps Us Understand the Old Testament - John Goldingay

The Inspiration and Interpretation of Scripture: What the Early Church Can Teach Us - Michael Graves

The Dance Between God and Humanity: Reading the Bible Today as the People of God - essays by Bruce Waltke

(these aren't necessarily books that I've read, just ones i've seen that interest me and might interest others too)

Joy in the Journey (10) - Do not weep

Do not weep (Revelation 5)

From within his isolation and exile on Patmos, John tells us, "I wept and wept." But these were not tears for the hardships he was enduring; they were tears because no-one was found worthy, anywhere in all creation, to open the scroll he had seen. The scroll sealed with seven seals, the scroll with writing inside and out.

This is the scroll that holds recorded the plans of the living God, the purposes of his heart. Plans to restore order and beauty to a world of chaos, to bring light into the darkness, to judge sin and evil, and to bathe all creation in his healing light. And no-one could open it. No wonder John weeps and weeps.

But a voice tells him to weep no more: someone has been found worthy to open it. Told that one is the Lion of the tribe of Judah, John turns only to see a lamb, looking as if it has been slain, bearing all the marks of suffering and sacrifice. This one - and John intuitively knows his identity - is worthy to take the scroll, to break open its seals, to unveil and unleash the saving works of God because he was slain and with his blood rescued those "from every tribe and language and people and nation."

God's plans for your life, for the life of his churches, for his great rescue mission in and for this world might seem to our limited view to be at something of a standstill. Education put on hold; employment uncertain; churches closed and mission agencies in limbo. But the reality is far different. In his life, our Lord Jesus was able to affirm that his Father was always at work and so he worked continually too. From prison, the apostle Paul could say that "God's word is not chained" because the all-worthy lamb, our Lord Jesus Christ, has shed his blood to open the seals.

Not chained in your life. Not chained in the church or in the world. Not chained but powerful and active and healing.

As the sun continues to rise each day, the Lord of life is active. His plans for fruitfulness continue to ripen - sowing, growing, reaping in our lives: joy in days of sorrow; hope when all around us seems broken beyond repair; faith in a risen Saviour.

And the fruit of worship as we join the chorus, "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honour and glory and praise."

************

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His works in vain;
Gos is his own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

(William Cowper, 1731-1800)

Pastor, don't make your church your city

"Cain reaches for a kind of substitute for eternity by fathering a son and attempting to create a lineage. He initiates a city in his son's name, but without the protection of God. Fear grips him; his lineage, his memory, must be protected, so he creates a city, a location protected by walls and a watchtower - a memorial to himself and his family and protection against chaos in the world."

Mark Sayers, Strange Days: Life in the Spirit in a Time of Upheaval, p.26

Why you need to keep reading and talking with other pastors

This is from a chapter reflecting on Calvin's work in A Pastoral Rule for Today:

The Company of Pastors embodied three practices designed to enhance fidelity to the Lord and Christian community that are just as foundational today.

First, regular, ongoing, in-depth study of Scripture remains fundamental to pastors' capacity to proclaim the gospel...Confining biblical study to private sermon preparation may lead to secondhand reliance on the work of others or to idiosyncratic interpretations...restricting study of Scripture to solitary consideration deprives a pastor of the insights and the corrections of others.

Second, serious and sustained theological study is an essential component of veracity in preaching, teaching, pastoral care, and mission. Continual theological engagement is necessary in building the pastoral capacity to understand contemporary culture and respond faithfully to its challenges, to deal knowledgably with church members' doubts and questions, to encourage faithful mission initiatives, and to wrestle with difficult moral issues...None of us possesses the rich theological wisdom necessary for the task. We need colleagues - both books and fellow pastors - as companions in the ongoing engagement with "the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God."

Third, biblical and theological wisdom is a necessary element in pastoral care. Church members deserve the truth of the gospel at all times, but certainly in moments of deep personal and communal significance...In moments such as these, pastors cannot fall back on pop therapy or religious cliches. Only constant probing of the deep mystery of God with us and for us in the dying and rising Christ can prepare pastors to serve the personal needs of congregations and members.

(A Pastoral Rule for Today p.100f )

Joy in the Journey (9)

The voice of the risen Lord (Revelation 1)

As the book of Revelation opens, the apostle John, the beloved disciple of Jesus, is in exile on the Island of Patmos - sent there because of "the word of God and the testimony of Jesus." Isolated because he was a Christian, serving Jesus, telling others the gospel story. Cut-off and acutely alone.

Our social isolation is for a good reason - to keep others, as well as ourselves, safe. But maybe within the isolation you also know another sense of exile - rejected by your family, perhaps because you take Jesus seriously; struggling with anxiety or temptation, your mind splintered into a thousand shards; or locked into the most painful memories or loss that the emptiness of these days only serves to heighten.

John was alone, suffering the corrupt and abusive power of human empire that sought to breed fear in all whom it victimised. And in that very place of isolation and exile, he is met by the most astonishing vision of his risen and glorified Lord. A vision not just for himself but a word to the Lord's people, then and now. A vision that beggars language to fully convey.

It is the embodied message of Easter that confronts him. The same risen Lord Jesus who suddenly appeared in a locked room appears to John in his ocean of isolation. He comes the broken heart to heal, to give strength and fresh resolve.

John falls at Jesus' feet, "as though dead", because real power belongs not to a corrupt empire but to a majesty and an authority that is clean and pure, shot through with all the holiness of God. But, in what CS Lewis calls "the heavy, golden voice of Aslan", John is told "Do not be afraid."

How many times he had heard those same words from the lips of Jesus, to so many people, in all the anguished scenes of human life. And those tones now fall on John's ears again: don't be afraid. Despite living in a world of human corruption and cosmic evil, the presence of uncreated, original goodness means fear is misplaced. And the one whose face "was like the sun shining in all its brilliance" speaks on:

I am the First and the Last : The beginning and the end. No one before him; none after. All else is consequential and penultimate; but not Jesus. His being enfolds John's life and the whole of history.

I am the Living One : Yes, he was dead, once, slaughtered on a Roman cross, but he rose again in triumph, emptying the tomb of its sinister shadows. And not just alive for a season: I am alive for ever and ever. He has consigned death to the wastelands of history.

I hold the keys of death and Hades : The authority over the final enemy is held in the safe hands, the nail-pierced hands, of Jesus. He is Lord, over all of John's life and destiny and over our lives and futures. No other power comes close. And no-one and nothing can or will ever be able to pluck you from his hands.

The vision given to John is passed on to us, not to make us envious, but as John's brothers and sisters who are "companions in the suffering and kingdom and patient endurance that are ours in Jesus". The words of Jesus enter our isolation, our exile, our lonely days, with power to tame our fears and strength for our fainting hearts.

*************

Thou whose Name is callèd Jesus,

Risen Lord of life and power,

O it is is so sweet to trust Thee

Every day and every hour!

Of Thy wondrous grace I sing,

Saviour, Counsellor, and King.

Thou canst keep my feet from falling,

Even my poor wayward feet -

Thou who dost present me faultless,

In Thy righteousness complete;

Jesus, Lord, in knowing Thee,

O what strength and victory!

All the sin in me, my Saviour,

Thou canst conquer and subdue;

With Thy sanctifying power

Permeate my spirit through;

Let thy government increase,

Risen, crownèd, Prince of Peace.

Thou canst keep me upward looking,

Ever upward in Thy face;

Thou canst make me stand, upholden

By the greatness of Thy grace;

Every promise of Thy Word

Now I claim from Thee, dear Lord.

O, what joy to trust Thee, Jesus,

Mighty Victor o’er the grave,

And to learn amid earth’s shadows

Thine unceasing power to save!

Only those who prove Thee know

What the grace Thou dost bestow.

Make my life a bright outshining

Of Thy life, that all may see

Thine own resurrection power

Mightily put forth in me;

Ever let my heart become

Yet more consciously Thy home

Jean Sophia Pigott (1845-82)

Joy in the Journey (8)

The word that sustains the weary (Isaiah 50)

As you wake on this Good Friday morning you may feel weary. Many of us are at the moment - physically and emotionally drained, by different routines, increased demands, confined spaces and cloistered relationships. Weary, but needing to keep on keeping on, day after relentless day.

Please listen to the Servant of the Lord as he speaks of himself:

The Sovereign LORD has given me a well-instructed tongue,
to know the word that sustains the weary.

Words that come from lips drenched in grace (Psalm 45:2). Words that are full of light and space and cooling breezes from heaven's shores. The servant - the Lord Jesus - says "He wakens me morning by morning, wakens my ear to listen like one being instructed." Fully alert to all the will and ways of his Father. Fully in sympathy with the character and heart of God. And so he speaks with a tongue well-instructed; all-knowing and all-sustaining.

But on this day of all days, look further into these verses. The word that sustains the weary comes from the fully-obedient Servant:

The Sovereign LORD has opened my ears;
I have not been rebellious,
I have not turned away.

And in full obedience he was the Suffering Servant:

I offered my back to those who beat me,
my cheeks to those who pulled out my beard;
I did not hide my face
from mocking and spitting.

The cost of his suffering was beyond price and yet he set his face like flint - determined, resolute, commited to the very end, the untold depths of the cross.

And it is he who addresses you this morning. Speaks as the one who drank, alone, the whole cup of suffering in order to bring you salvation. Speaks to you of holy love, tested and proved, love that was placarded on the cross; of faithfulness and mercy enthroned in the centre of history, higher than the heavens, deeper than the oceans.

His word is able to sustain you today, in all the weariness of life. He speaks as one who knows the exhaustion, who shared the sorrows, who faced-down all the monsters of evil and chaos, who won peace for you - peace by his blood, shed on the cross.

He is speaking, still, his words to the weary. Let's make his experience our prayer: that the LORD would waken us morning by morning, waken our ears to listen like one being instructed. Let's not try lighting our own fires, to make our way in flawed and failing wisdom, but instead,

Let the one who walks in the dark,
who has no light,
trust in the name of the LORD
and rely on their God.

*********

I have a Friend whose faithful love
Is more than all the world to me,
’Tis higher than the heights above,
And deeper than the soundless sea;
    So old, so new,
    So strong, so true;
Before the earth received its frame,
He loved me—Blessed be His name!

He held the highest place above,
Adored by all the sons of flame,
Yet, such His self-denying love,
He laid aside His crown and came
    To seek the lost,
    And, at the cost
Of heavenly rank and earthly fame,
He sought me—Blessed be His name!

It was a lonely path He trod,
From every human soul apart;
Known only to Himself and God
Was all the grief that filled His heart:
    Yet from the track
    He turned not back,
Till where I lay in want and shame
He found me—Blessed be His name!

Then dawned at last that day of dread
When, desolate, yet undismayed,
With wearied frame and thorn-crowned head,
He, now forsaken and betrayed,
    Went up for me
    To Calvary,
And dying there in grief and shame
He saved me—Blessed be His name!

Long as I live my song shall tell
The wonders of His matchless love;
And when at last I rise to dwell
In the bright home prepared above,
    My joy shall be
    His face to see,
And bowing then with loud acclaim,
I’ll praise Him—Blessed be His name!

C.A Tydeman

Mary Oliver on Fostering the Inner Life

Men and women of faith who pray—that is, who come to a certain assigned place, at definite times, and are not abashed to go down on their knees—will not tarry for the cup of coffee or the newsbreak or the end of the movie when the moment arrives. The habit, then, has become their life. What some might call the restrictions of the daily office they find to be an opportunity to foster the inner life. The hours are appointed and named; they are the Lord’s. Life’s fretfulness is transcended. The different and the novel are sweet, but regularity and repetition are also teachers. Divine attentiveness cannot be kept casually, or visited only in season, like Venice or Switzerland. Or, perhaps it can, but then how attentive is it? And if you have no ceremony, no habits, which may be opulent or may be simple but are exact and rigorous and familiar, how can you reach toward the actuality of faith, or even a moral life, except vaguely? The patterns of our lives reveal us. Our habits measure us. Our battles with our habits speak of dreams yet to become real. I would like to be like the fox, earnest in devotion and humor both, or the brave, compliant pond shutting its heavy door for the long winter. But, not yet have I reached that bright life or that white happiness—not yet.

Mary Oliver, from Habits, Differences and the Life that Abides, in Long Life: Essays and Other Writings

Joy in the Journey (7) - Do not let your hearts be troubled

Troubled hearts need comfort. Lives that have been engulfed by the storms of sorrow need healing and hope. John 14:1-3 is a large serving of 'just what's needed':

Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.

Jesus has told his disciples some very disturbing news. He is going away from them and they cannot follow him, at least not for now (13:33). He has repeatedly spoken to them of the fact he will be taken by the Jewish leaders and killed. That time is now at hand.

Yet they are not to let their hearts be troubled or afraid (verse 1 & verse 27). That's a tall order! But the reasons are laid out in verses 2 and 3, in some of the most well-known words in John’s gospel, words that have been read at countless funerals (I've done so myself often). They are words of deep and lasting hope for the future.

But they're not just for the future. They're not even primarily for the future. When Jesus speaks of going away and coming back we probably think he means going to heaven and then coming back at his second coming. But elsewhere in this chapter, he speaks of coming back and he clearly means after his resurrection (verses 18,19) or he means his coming to them by his Spirit (verse 23). It's very likely that he also has that in mind here.

Jesus is going away to prepare a place for them - and for us - in his Father's house, where there are 'many rooms'. His Father's house is his Father's household, his family (that's how the term is used in 8:35). And a 'room' is a place to rest and be refreshed, a place to remain, to dwell. Jesus is going away, through the agony of the cross, to prepare a place for us in his Father’s family, as beloved sons and daughters, a place in which there is rest and refreshing, safety and security.

That is a present reality for disciples, then and now, but wonderfully it is also a permanent reality: "a slave has no permanent place in the family (house) but a son belongs to it forever" (John 8:35). Forever belonging in the family of God in a place prepared by Jesus' going away to Calvary and coming back from the tomb.

Yes, it is true that there is more to come. We are not wrong to see these verses as having great future significance, when our adoption as God's children will be fully realised and we see him face to face. But in the here and now, the ‘now’ of many fears and anxieties, and of deep-seated insecurities, Jesus’ words offer us the solvent for our fears and the tonic for our troubled hearts: in our Father’s household are many resting places.

Your present troubles are not evidence that you are unloved and unwelcome. In the kindness of God they might even become occasions to discover the truth of his loving embrace more deeply. For in the Father’s heart we will ever remain as his cherished children.

********

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy  hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be for ever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed, we shall meet at last.


Katharina von Schlegel b. 1697;
tr. by Jane Laurie Borthwick 1813-97 

Joy in the Journey (6) - The faith that fails not

No prayer of Jesus could ever go unanswered, could it? He always intercedes for his loved ones, always prays with wisdom and insight, always with the keenest concern for our welfare and maturing in faith. He always prays in full recognition of the will of his Father. Nothing is lacking from his prayers; they could never fail.

"Simon, I have prayed for you [singular] that your faith may not fail." Simon, Satan has asked to sift you as wheat, wants to winnow your soul, wants to bring you down to the lowest low, wants to see you utterly fall and fail. He cares nothing for you; longs only for your harm, Simon. But I have prayed for you - for unfailing faith, for faith that stands the test.

And then the test comes and Simon Peter fails it by a country mile. Three times he has the opportunity to affirm his faith in Jesus, his connection to the despised Galilean, his willing and glad submission to him as Lord, and each time he fails. He's a denier. He's a coward. He's completely unworthy.

His faith has failed - and so, too, it seems have the prayers of Jesus.

Except that isn't the whole story and it isn't the full picture of what faith in Jesus is and means.

When the cock crowed the third time, Peter remembered Jesus' words, "the word the Lord had spoken to him...and he went outside and wept bitterly." He recognises his bravado was an empty boast, that what his Lord knew he now knows: his boasts were fleshly and ignorant of his crippling weakness. He weeps to know that he has denied the one whose life and character has shone before him the redeeming love and glory of God.

And it is in this repentant weeping that we see his faith has not failed. This isn't bare regret; this isn't worldly sorrow. This is full ownership of his sin (how else would we know the details of what happened by that courtyard fire?). And in owning his sin, he remains with the disciples, as a follower of Jesus.

That our faith may not fail isn't about uninterrupted victories, going from strength to strength as Christians, never falling backward but our every step an upward one. No, the faith that does not fail is the faith that, when it sees and feels its sin, owns it and continues to look to Jesus for mercy and forgiveness. The faith that knows and clings to the fact that there is a way back to God from the dark paths of sin.

Maybe these weeks without an expected routine, cloistered in ways not of your choosing, are revealing aspects of your heart and mind you'd rather not see. That there are pressure points which, when pressed, not only yield pain but cause you to hurt others too. You're overwhelmed by what feels like faithless anxiety and are drowning in shame.

Jesus has prayed for you, by name, that your faith will fail not. He knows, far more truly than we ever could, the vulnerabilities that haunt our souls. He foresees the looming lunges for our faith that the world, the flesh and the devil will make. And he prays for us, prays for you. That your faith would not fail. That in any fall, from whatever hole you've tumbled into and for whatever reason, you would look to him. That your hope would not be in keeping your clothes unsoiled but that you would be given grace to look to the one who alone can make them clean.

And the faith that, then, looks to others, to brothers and sisters equally wrestling under a groaning weight, and holds out the helping hand of prayer and sympathy and the loving embrace of mercy offered and received. That when it turns, strengthens others.

********

Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high:
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide;
O receive my soul at last.

Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, oh, leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me.
All my trust on Thee is stayed,
All my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenseless head
With the shadow of Thy wing.

Thou, O Christ, art all I want;
More than all in Thee I find;
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,
Heal the sick and lead the blind.
Just and holy is Thy name,
I am all unrighteousness;
False and full of sin I am,
Thou art full of truth and grace.

Plenteous grace with Thee is found,
Grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound;
Make and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art,
Freely let me take of Thee;
Spring Thou up within my heart,
Rise to all eternity.

Charles Wesley

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.

********

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.

********

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)