Scepticism dispelled: the bookends of John's Gospel

Bookending John’s gospel are two accounts of scepticism being dispelled by the Lord Jesus, tucked just after the prologue and just before the epilogue. And they have significant parallels:

That would seem to fit perfectly with John's stated purpose for writing his gospel: "that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing may have life in his name." (20:31). And maybe they help to throw into sharp relief the frequent temporal faith seen in the gospel and offer hope that it can be overcome.

Making the most of every opportunity (Joy in the Journey 90)

Be very careful, then, how you live —not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. (Ephesians 5:15,16)

Are you ready to "make the most of every opportunity"? Is your life being lived on the cutting-edge of evangelistic enterprise? Because this verse seems to suggest that it ought to be. Every day there are opportunities galore, if only you have eyes to see them, and your duty is to grasp them with both hands. Or at least it appears to say that if you ignore the context. Which is never the wise choice.

So maybe it's more about how the older translation puts it: "redeeming the time". Nailing down every last second of the day, making sure you can offer it to Jesus in full efficiency and complete effectiveness. No ragged edges or fluffed lines, because he's not interested in anything defective. As Depeche Mode sang, "Everything counts, in large amounts".

If that is the way to understand the text you can't ever afford to get it wrong, to freewheel during a single day or take your foot even an inch off the pedal. Not once. Because you've got to redeem the time - rescue it from the waste bin and recycle it into an always-on mode of discipleship. Anything less is failing to honour your Lord.

The good news is that neither of those explanations are correct. It's not about evangelism and it isn't about productivity. Those are not authentic readings of this text. Both are important in their respective contexts (one more so than the other, perhaps), but this verse is from somewhere else.

This is set within the daily grind of living as a Christian, in the in-between time of the here-and-now before the hereafter. The days when we get up reluctantly and go to bed wearily. When we see and hear sights and sounds that grieve us deeply, even as they pressure us towards acceptance and compromise. Days when we are tempted to fall in with the fruitless deeds of darkness rather than expose them. When the easy choice is moral slumber.

Faced with the starkness of those choices - between light and darkness, between wisdom and folly - Paul is urging us to redeem the time/make the most of every opportunity of living in the light. To approach our days in light of God's character and to act from his work within us. To serve his commission to be salt and light in a crooked and perverse generation. To find out what pleases him and to rejoice in making that our aim.

Such lives will, of course, invite questions about the Lord and requests for the reasons for the hope we have. They will be lives that sanctify each day, not through productivity hacks but in holiness and love, in Spirit-given worship, with heartfelt thankfulness "to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ."

The days we're living through desperately need us to act as though our words and deeds matter. An open display that the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth will be the most clarifying and compelling reality for a world whose days are framed in folly and shrouded in shame.

We are now, by his grace, "light in the Lord". Translated and transformed. Our high calling and our dearest privilege is to serve our Saviour in the freedom he has so freely given. Choosing to walk in love, owning that all our days are his, that we and they have been redeemed, liberated from the dominion of sin and grafted into the grace of life.

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Finding (Time) - by James K.A. Smith is a worthwhile read to go with this morning's reflection.

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My times are in Thy hand:

My God, I wish them there;

My life, my friends, my soul I leave

Entirely to Thy care.

My times are in Thy hand,

Whatever they may be,

Pleasing or painful, dark or bright,

As best may seem to Thee.

My times are in Thy hand:

Why should I doubt or fear?

A Father's hand will never cause

His child a needless tear.

My times are in Thy hand,

Jesus, the crucified;

Those hands my cruel sins had pierced

Are now my guard and guide.

My times are in Thy hand:

I'll always trust in Thee;

And, after death, at Thy right hand

I shall for ever be.

(William Freeman Lloyd, 1791-1853)

They also serve (Joy in the Journey 89)

It’s a moving story. The great poet John Milton finally lost his sight and was then bereaved of his wife. In the trauma of that first loss, he penned the sonnet ‘On His Blindness’ in which he reflects on the parable of the talents in the light of his own circumstances. He expresses in the poem his sense of frustration and perplexity over how the Lord could allow this enforced idleness, “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”

Many will be able to sympathise with his feelings. In Psalm 42, the writer expresses great heaviness of heart and cries out, “Why are you downcast, oh my soul?” Life had taken a turn for the worse and part of the anxiety and the pain were the memories he had of serving God: “These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I used to go with the multitude, leading the procession to the house of God.” (v.4) Those times now seemed so long ago and so far away.

As we go through similar times, it’s good to recall that ultimately we are not defined by what we do. Of course, how we serve the Lord is important. Our gifts allow us to express who we are in relationship with him and our gratitude for his grace. But they don’t define us. We are not in the first instance called to serve but “called to belong to Jesus Christ” (Romans 1:6). That clearly involves service but is not limited to it. Significantly, Adam and Eve’s first full day in Eden was a Sabbath on which they rested in the Lord who had made them. They were created to belong to him and that holds true in the new creation too.

Is part of our struggle because we view service too narrowly? John Milton wrestled with his difficulties and resolved them, affirming the superior value of bearing his mild yoke and declaring, “They also serve who only stand and wait”. We, perhaps, too quickly limit what serving God means. We define it in terms of activity but Milton had grasped the profound truth that it depends not on action for its vitality but on the attitude of the heart. Serving God is fundamentally concerned with a response to his grace that recognises and rejoices in the Lordship of Christ over the whole of life.

Yes, Jesus is Lord, even over all our infirmities. The Lord who is sovereign can use us just as he will. His purposes are not thwarted when our gifts are limited through age or infirmity, nor are his plans overtaken by events beyond our control. Paul had grasped this as he languished in a Roman prison. Despite the curtailing of his ‘active service’ he was still rejoicing in the Lord’s ability to use his circumstances and even the wrong motives of others to further the cause of Christ (Phil. 1:12-18).

We may feel chained by age or circumstance but “God’s Word is not chained” (2 Tim. 2:9) and by his Spirit he can still use us to display the glorious name of Jesus, in our sufferings, through our prayers.

The God we serve called light out of darkness and made all things from nothing. Out of the ‘nothing’ of our limitations and frailties, he can fashion something lasting and good that honours his Son. It’s interesting that Milton’s greatest piece of work, Paradise Lost, was written after his blindness. And the greatest work in all history was declared ‘Finished!’ when all seemed lost and the Suffering Servant forsaken by God. His ways are much higher than ours.

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When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,

And that one talent which is death to hide

Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest he returning chide,

"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"

I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need

Either man's work or his own gifts: who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed

And post o'er land and ocean without rest:

They also serve who only stand and wait."

(John Milton, 1608-74)

The waiting that brings things nearer (Joy in the Journey 88)

These are days of waiting and longing. For things to change for the better. For the return of some semblance of what passed for normal life before the pandemic. Waiting is not simply toughing it out; at times it can be so hard not to be forlorn, your heart a compilation of anxiety and misgivings, layered in swathes of unease.

Is there an end in sight? Perhaps. But we know there is danger in being too optimistic and so we hedge our bets, trying to play the long game a little while longer.

In his second and final letter to scattered Christians and churches, the apostle Peter is writing to make sure they will be able to remember, after his death, the very great and precious promises they have been given through the glory and goodness of the Lord Jesus Christ. In an unstable and hazardous world, they can know a genuine security in their Saviour.

Essential to their endurance is "looking forward to the day of God" (3:12). There is, genuinely, an end in sight. It cannot be timetabled but it is certain. A day when all that is broken will be restored, when the new heavens and earth will be unveiled in stunning beauty and righteousness. Everything will be laid bare in a judgement that brings final healing.

Along with Peter's first readers we are waiting for that day. A waiting that is often experienced as longing with the heaviest of hearts. A waiting that can also be an on-tiptoes eagerness, having seen and tasted now something of the beauty and wonder of the God who is good. A waiting that is sustained in hope by the Spirit of Jesus. Waiting for the one "whom having not seen, [we] love."

Often, waiting in this life means hanging on, passive and inactive, until you get the golden ticket through the post. This is different. Peter's encouragement is to live holy and godly lives as we long for that day - patient but not passive, living now in the light of what will be then. Embracing and embodying a truly living hope. Words, deeds, motives and desires being re-shaped into God-likeness, suffused with a joy that is both latent and patent.

And Peter augments the portrait he is sketching, adding in a final flourish that waiting for the day of God "speeds its coming". It hastens it, brings it nearer. It cannot make it more certain - that is guaranteed and sealed by the promise of the God who cannot lie - but it can somehow, mysteriously, bring it nearer.

Does he mean nearer in our perception but not in actuality? We know that longing often has the opposite effect - the holiday we're desperate for still seems an age away! No, however hard it is to rationalise what Peter is saying, his meaning is clear: our longing, birthed by the Spirit, is taken-up into the sovereign plans of God. Our eager, sometimes desperate desire to see Jesus, to see his world restored and all sin and evil removed, is not in vain and isn't beside the point. He has chosen to make it part of the resolution.

Into the dreariness and struggles of life comes a call to keep looking ahead, to keep pressing onward and upward, to not throw away the confidence that will be richly rewarded (Heb. 10:35). The time is coming when we see the King in all his beauty, the veil of time having been rent and our eyes opened to unbleached glory.

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Come, Lord, and tarry not;

Bring the long-looked-for day;

O why these years of waiting here,

These ages of delay?

Come, for Thy saints still wait;

Daily ascends their sigh;

The Spirit and the bride say, Come;

Wilt Thou not hear the cry?

Come in Thy glorious might,

Come with the iron rod;

Scattering Thy foes before Thy face,

Most mighty Son of god.

Come, and make all things new;

Build up this ruined earth;

Restore our faded paradise,

Creation's second birth.

Come, and begin Thy reign

Of everlasting peace;

Come, take the kingdom to Thyself,

Great King of Righteousness!

(Horatius Bonar, 1808-89)

The One Who Lifts Your Head

Do you have days when you feel that you’re facing overwhelming odds? You have torrents of troubles and sorrows that sheet down like rain. There are people who choose to be at odds with you, who seemingly want to negate your life. Legitimate opportunities are closed off and your contribution is annulled and labelled worthless?

As Psalm 3 opens, David is expressing his own version of that kind of experience. The problems and the problem people are many. It’s unrelenting. They just never give up.

And from there he speaks words that are ours to take hold of with the hungriest of hearts:

    But you, O LORD, are a shield around me,
    My glory, the One who lifts my head high.
    I call out to the LORD,
    And he answers me from his holy mountain.

The living God, the eternal One, is David’s protector, his shield, his defender and provider. His refuge against the onslaught. There are no gaps in his defences, no weak links in the chain of his loving commitment. His guardian care is invincible.

Those who stand against David hold him in derision and scorn. They pour shame like water upon his head, they trash his reputation with fierce falsehoods. This is his downfall, the end of his career, the termination of his tenure. He’s at their mercy and they will show him none.

But David’s head is lifted high, in honour. He belongs to the Holy One and is vindicated by him. He is David’s glory - the One who stands up for him, who is unashamed to be fully aligned with him. The One who shares his own status with David, gives him his name and covers him with his own royal robes.

Our Lord Jesus willingly aligns himself with us, declares that we are his and defends us as his own beloved people. He will not allow us to suffer final shame.

And the raising of our heads that takes away all our disgrace and dishonour, that lifts us into living hope, is the action of the One who bowed his head and gave up his spirit, under the enormous load of sin’s desolation upon the cross. The one whose sacrifice saves us from all the bitter fruit of our fallenness and cleanses the squalid, fetid ground of our hearts.

David calls to the LORD and is answered from his holy hill - from the temple itself, the very centre of God’s presence on earth. This is no incidental assistance. But another ‘holy mountain’ would in time draw our eyes and fill our hearts with astonishment, the hill just outside the city walls where our Lord Jesus offered himself for us. From that hill comes the Lord’s answer: “It is finished.” From there he speaks words of full forgiveness, words that promise paradise.

Within the torrential downpour of all life's struggles, we are held and honoured, because the King of Glory is our shield, our Saviour.

So that we don't cause offence (Joy in the Journey 87)

There’s a strange little scene at the end of Matthew 17, all about paying taxes for building the temple and finding coins in the mouths of fish. Bizarre, really. And yet it’s not.

Peter is asked whether Jesus pays the temple tax. Interesting question, because rabbis and priests were exempt. Well, Jesus does pay it - Peter knows that. He isn’t in the exempted categories, even though Peter might have expected him to be (after all, he’s just recently acknowledged Jesus to be the Messiah).

It clearly puzzles Peter because the Lord raises the question with him. He asks him who it is that pays taxes in a country, the children of the king or others? The answer, as Peter well knows, is ‘the others’. So, says Jesus, the king’s children are excluded. The burden doesn’t fall on them. So far, so straightforward.

But here’s Jesus’ point: if the children are exempt then he, of all people, has no need to pay the temple tax. And neither, it seems, does Peter - for all who follow Jesus as Messiah become themselves children of the heavenly King whose temple it is. So why does Jesus pay it - and why will he pay it on Peter’s behalf too?

“So that we may not cause offence.”

The reason for the Son of God coming into the world is to rescue, not to repulse. He hasn’t come to gloat and parade his position or rest on his rights. He has come to serve, in the deepest humility and meekness. Such service doesn’t negate his identity, it flows from it.

And the same is to be true for all who are children of God through being united by faith to the Son. The gospel may well give offence but that alone must do so. Our attitudes and actions must not.

This is underscored in the very next scene (it’s often best to ignore chapter breaks) where the Lord Jesus states that “whoever takes the lowly position of [a] child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” Central to life as a child of God in this present world is a genuine humility that doesn’t look to exploit its position, nor angle for personal power or make a case for exceptional treatment.

Christian identity is manifested through love. The true posture for all who follow and serve Jesus is one of lowly service, in all gladness. Within society, in our neighbourhoods and workplaces, in school or college. Being willing to go the extra mile, to serve without expectation or desire for reward. To do so without ulterior motivates.

The fear of losing out that naturally snipes at our hearts is dispelled by the generosity of our Lord Jesus Christ: he will provide for all our needs. Peter is to go out and find in the mouth of a fish an amount that will cover both Jesus’ and his tax bills. In the Lord we have all could desire and all that is necessary to sustain our service and to cultivate a contentment that will be evident in all our words and deeds.

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My heart is resting, O my God,

I will give thanks and sing;

My heart is at the secret source

Of every precious thing.

Now the frail vessel Thou hast made

No hand but Thine shall fill;

The waters of the earth have failed,

And I am thirsty still.

I thirst for springs of heavenly life,

And here all day they rise;

I seek the treasure of Thy love,

And close at hand it lies;

And a 'new song' is in my mouth

To long-loved music set:

Glory to Thee for all the grace

I have not tasted yet!

Glory to Thee for strength withheld,

For want and weakness known,

The fear that sends me to Thy breast

For what is most my own.

I have a heritage of joy

That yet I must not see;

The hand that bled to make it mine

Is keeping it for me.

My heart is resting, O my God,

My heart is in Thy care;

I hear the voice of joy and health

Resounding everywhere.

"Thou art my portion", saith my soul,

Ten thousand voices say;

The music of their glad Amen

Will never die away.

(Anna Laetitia Waring, 1823-1910)

The words that hold your dearest treasure (Joy in the Journey 86)

With his trademark wry humour and punchy insight, Steve Turner wrote a poem about short poems:

Short poems

are fun.

You can see at a glance

whether you

like them

or not.

Psalm 117 comes and goes so quickly. It’s definitely in the category of ‘short poem’. It’s so easy to pass it by, to accept what it says and to hurry on to the larger pastures of Ps.118 and then on into the sprawling continent that is Ps.119.

But this psalm says, in compressed form, everything we need to know, everything that the rest of scripture opens up to us. You can tell at a glance that it holds your dearest treasure:

    Praise the LORD, all you nations;

    extol him, all you peoples.

    For great is his love toward us,

    and the faithfulness of the LORD endures forever.

    Praise the LORD.

It insists, demands, that all nations are called to praise the LORD - that the whole story of the Bible is expansive and not exclusive. That embedded within the story of Israel is a larger story that will, in time, burst its banks and life will overflow to the nations.

This is a song of the most extensive hope and joy. For all peoples. A light has dawned over the whole earth - the sun of righteousness has risen with healing in his wings.

And at the heart of that story - its beating pulse and its pulsating power - is the great love of God. Love that is for us, towards us, tilting the whole life of God in our direction. Love that enters the fray and frees the captives. Layering divine love into all the crevices of the heart and every moment of our lives. Love that will heal the nations. Love that finds its fullest revelation on a hill just outside Jerusalem, “where the dearest and best for a world of lost sinners was slain.”

That love was enacted in the truest and most tenacious faithfulness - a commitment to embrace and save, to heal and restore. A pledge that endures for ever. Time and chance and all the malevolence of evil could not dampen the integrity and intent of God to enter time and space - the Son of God becoming the Son of Man, that the sons of men might become the children of God (as someone so helpfully put it).

With a few deft words, the psalm lays before us the whole sweep of human history and unveils the central reality of God and his ways. It needs no explanation (so please pardon these words); its beauty is plain for all to see and offered for all to savour.

Which is what we ought to do with it. Lay it before our sight and enter its lines, in wonder and worship. This is our God, this is his world, these are his ways. And we are his, forever his.

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Timeless love! We sing the story,
praise his wonders, tell his worth;
love more fair than heaven's glory,
love more firm than ancient earth!
    Tell his faithfulness abroad:
    who is like him? Praise the Lord!

By his faithfulness surrounded,
North and South his hand proclaim;
earth and heaven formed and founded,
skies and seas, declare his Name!
    Wind and storm obey his word:
    who is like him? Praise the Lord!

Truth and righteousness enthrone him,
just and equal are his ways;
more than happy, those who own him,
more than joy, their songs of praise!
    Sun and Shield and great Reward:
    who is like him? Praise the Lord!

(Timothy Dudley-Smith, 1926-)

Be on your guard (Joy in the Journey 85)

It's disconcerting to find you just haven't got hold of something. You thought you'd made all the right connections and understood what was being said or done, but it's become clear your brain was misfiring. The truth has been pointed out and you now see just how far off you were.

That's how it must have been for the disciples when the Lord Jesus warned them "against the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees" (Mt. 16:6). They made a verbal connection with their having forgotten to bring along bread for the journey - and in doing so showed just how little they really 'got' what he'd said. On this occasion, their two plus two didn't make four. Far from it.

What they showed was just how naïve they were - and how much they therefore needed Jesus' warning. They were deeply susceptible to the insidious effect of unbelief, of the corruption of their best intentions and hopes by calloused cynicism.

In treating the Pharisees and Sadducees as one group, our Lord underscores the danger he detects. They believed different things and were frequently at odds with each other - but both were united in opposing Jesus as the Son of God, the Messiah. The disciples, alas, simply hadn't begun to discern the unholy alliance that faced them, nor its capacity to deceive and lead astray. They frequently judged by shallow appearances which proved to be far from accurate.

We live in similarly disturbing times. No less than the disciples do we need to hear our Lord's words: "Be careful...be on your guard." We, too, are vulnerable and susceptible to the spirit of the age. Any denial of that is an immediate breaching of our defences.

Where does genuine insight come from? We're shown in Peter's experience. When asked about the identity of the Son of Man, he speaks with conviction: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." How had he worked that out? What special ability did he possess? Well, he didn't. The insight came from above: "this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven."

If we see Jesus more clearly and have begun to cherish him, it has been gifted to us. Humility and gratitude are always the order of the day.

But once given it has to be fiercely guarded - and Peter falls at the first hurdle. He is offended that Jesus declares his pathway to glory lay via the cross. But his thoughts and feelings are now from below: "you do not have in mind the concerns of God but merely human concerns." In opposing Jesus he was playing the part of Satan, tempting our Lord away from his mission. Ouch.

We always need the Lord to illuminate our understanding. It is sheer folly to rely on our abilities or to hold lightly to the truth that has been so graciously given to us. The challenge will often come at the point that is most painful and disconcerting to us, at the heart of the gospel call to follow Jesus as Lord, come what may. We need to be ready for that.

Never have we more needed to heed the words of Jesus: "Watch and pray that you do not fall into temptation". And to rest our all upon his promise, "None shall snatch them from my hand."

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Christian, seek not yet repose;

    Cast thy dreams of ease away;

Thou art in the midst of foes:

    Watch and pray.

Principalities and powers,

    Mustering their unseen array,

Wait for thy unguarded hours:

    Watch and pray.

Gird thy heavenly armour on;

    Wear it ever, night and day;

Ambushed lies the evil one:

    Watch and pray.

Hear the victors who o'ercame;

    Still they mark each warrior's way;

All with one sweet voice exclaim,

    'Watch and pray.'

Hear, above all, hear thy Lord,

    Him thou lovest to obey;

Hide within thy heart His word:

    'Watch and pray.'

Watch, as if on that alone

    Hung the issue of the day;

Pray, that help may be sent down:

    Watch and pray.

(Charlotte Elliott, 1789-1871)

He ever lives to intercede for us (Joy in the Journey 84)

As we pray, we hope to do so regularly and consistently. That is our aim and our desire. But, for many reasons, we struggle. It might be a matter of health, when our physical weakness robs our spirit of the energy to raise itself in adoration and petition. There are times when those with young children have such broken nights that whole days pass by in a haze of weariness. Often we are blindsided by the torrent of activity we're plunged into.

And then there are the darkest of times, when we feel ourselves marooned and isolated to such an extent that we feel incapable of uttering any words at all.

Sometimes it's best to just accept that this is how things are, for now. Better times may soon come. We trust in God's kindness they will.

Yet, in all the struggle, we can know that even the slightest connection to Jesus is sufficient for us to know his powerful grace. The woman in Mark 5 whose life and vitality were ebbing away knew that the mere touch of his garment would bring her the relief she longed for. The multitude who crowded around our Lord at the close of Matthew 14 knew the same.

Because the power of grace and compassion are entirely in our Lord Jesus and not in us. It isn't the fluidity and coherence of our prayers, nor the clear expression of our longings that makes the difference. It is Jesus.

And not only can we take encouragement from that but Hebrews 7:25 assures us that, in all our inconsistency and variability, our Lord Jesus prays continually for us: "He is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them."

Jesus lives, forever, and Jesus prays, constantly, for us. Nothing hinders him. He is no part-time Saviour. He isn't having to fight a rear-guard action against resurgent evil such that he has no spare capacity for us in all our need.

By the power of his indestructible life, he stands and prays for us. With full wisdom and insight. With an empathy that reaches depths no other can plumb. With a willingness and ability to help that can scale every height.

As we lament our weakness in prayer, the fact remains that we are loved and held by the Saviour who saves to the uttermost. No latent inability in our souls and no blatant attempt to snatch us from our Lord will alter the outcome. There ever shall be mercy and grace to help us in our time of need.

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I hear the words of love,

I gaze upon the blood,

I see the mighty sacrifice,

And I have peace with God.

’Tis everlasting peace!

Sure as Jehovah’s name;

’Tis stable as His steadfast throne,

For evermore the same.

The clouds may come and go,

And storms may sweep my sky;

This blood-sealed friendship changes not

The cross is ever nigh.

My love is oft-times low,

My joy still ebbs and flows;

But peace with Him remains the same-

No change Jehovah knows.

That which can shake the cross

May shake the peace it gave,

Which tells me Christ has never died ,

Or never left the grave!

Till then my peace is sure,

It will not, cannot yield,

Jesus, I know, has died and lives,

On this firm rock I build.

I change, He changes not;

The Christ can never die;

His love, not mine, the resting-place,

His truth, not mine, the tie.

The cross still stands unchanged,

Though heaven is now His home,

The mighty stone is rolled away,

But yonder is His tomb!

And yonder is my peace,

The grave of all my woes!

I know the Son of God has come,

I know He died and rose .

I know He liveth now,

At God's right hand above,

I know the throne on which He sits,

I know His truth and love!

(Horatius Bonar, 1808-89)

"I knew that you are a hard man." (Joy in the Journey 83)

It's one of the saddest things that could ever be said to the Lord: "I knew that you are a hard man..." (Mt. 25:24) It's not something any Christian would see themselves saying in the cold light of day, yet it is a suspicion that can be harboured in the shadows of our hearts, however much we might rush to deny it.

Of course we gladly honour the grace that has saved us, forgiven our sin and made us his children. For all that we are deeply thankful. And yet, at the level of day to day life, the suspicion lingers and festers: he expects; he exacts. He makes impossible demands. He holds our every thought and word and deed up to the light and, on seeing every imperfection and blemish, his face clouds with bitter disappointment.

And so the Christian life is lived in distorted fear. As the nameless man in the parable admits, "I was afraid." This is not the fear of the Lord that is pure and endures for ever (Ps. 19:9), the fear that is an overwhelmed amazement at the love of God. This is fear that hides from his face, believing it to be thunderous and darkened with displeasure. This is fear that is fed by unrelieved shame.

How did we get ourselves into such a state?

Possibly through teaching that was not sufficiently true to the character of God revealed in the Bible. Perhaps by what we saw (unwittingly) modelled by others, in their own fearful discipleship and possibly in how they then treated us. It could be we've settled for a skewed portrait and haven't pursued our questions with a believing vigour, assuming the answers will only confirm our wretched suspicions.

However it came to be, there is another road to take. In Matthew 11 the Lord Jesus invites us to come to him and rest. That rest for our souls is intimately connected to the fact that "No one knows the Father except the Son and those the Son chooses to reveal him to" (11:27). The gentleness and humility of heart that all who come to Jesus discover is a revelation of the character of the Father. He is supremely generous and compassionate and merciful.

That reflection of the Father in his Son is immediately seen in Matthew 12. Our Lord Jesus defends his disciples in a sabbath controversy with the Pharisees and proceeds to give complete restoration to a man whose hand was shrivelled. The sabbath was for rest and blessing, fulfilled in faith in Christ. Nothing could be more appropriate than to heal on it and bring joy and relief.

The Pharisees' approach to the law led to enslavement and a mis-characterisation of the living God. Our Lord Jesus makes plain that the fulfilment of Law and Temple is found in him and in the complete transformation and healing he alone can bring, as the Son who reveals the Father.

We can lay our false fears to rest, in the solvent of divine love that has power to dissolve all anxieties and misgivings. He is not, in any sense, a hard man. Let's not hide in the shadows, suspicious of our Father, for, truly, "the heart of the eternal is most wonderfully kind." 

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

Sing praise to God who reigns above,

The God of all creation,

The God of wonders, power and love,

The God of our salvation.

With healing balm my soul He fills,

The God who every sorrow stills -

To God all praise and glory!

What God's almighty power hath made

His gracious mercy keepeth;

By morning dawn or evening shade

His watchful eye ne'er sleepeth;

Within the kingdom of His might,

Lo, all is just and all is right - 

To God all praise and glory!

I cried to Him, in time of need:

Lord God, O hear my calling!

For death He gave me life indeed

And kept my feet from falling.

For this my thanks shall endless be;

O thank Him, thank our God with me -

To God all praise and glory!

The Lord forsaketh not His flock,

His chosen generation;

He is their Refuge and their Rock,

Their Peace and their Salvation.

As with a mother's tender hand

He leads His own, His chosen band -

To God all praise and glory!

Then come before His presence now

And banish fear and sadness;

To your Redeemer pay your vow

And sing with joy and gladness:

Though great distress my soul befell,

The Lord, my God, did all things well -

To God all praise and glory!

(Johann Jakob Schutz, 1640-90

tr. by Frances Elizabeth Cox, 1812-97)

Like sheep without a shepherd (Joy in the Journey 82)

"Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.” (Matthew 9:35-38)

Harassed and helpless: doesn't that so neatly and so completely summarise how many people are feeling right now? Maybe you'd put your tick next to that box to describe your own state of mind and body. Life is pressing in on you, from all angles. From outside and from within. The expectations you can't meet. The mistakes you can't put right, the words you can't take back. The gnawing agony of shame that says you're too weak to cope.

It seems like there's so very little that can be done to prevent the walls from closing in, slowly and inexorably. We can maybe keep some things at arms' length, for a while. Perhaps. If everything goes our way. But perhaps not. It feels like we're going to suffocate, to drown in the flood of troubles or be swept away in the manic, ragged race to keep life together.

Matthew's words have the most wonderful encouragement for the harassed and helpless. For us. He tells us that our Lord Jesus, on seeing the people in such need, didn't tut tut their decisions or their tactics for navigating through the choppy seas of life. He didn't despise them for being unable to cope or despair over their inability to come up with a plan to get themselves out of the mess. He had compassion on them. He felt for them deeply and truly. His heart went out to them. He was moved in the depths of his being with genuine care and concern.

And that compassion was not simply on account of the symptoms they were experiencing - the sickness and disease, the poverty and the political oppression, the struggle to make something of themselves, the tensions within the family. All were seen by him and moved him deeply. But he also saw the larger reality: they were like sheep without a shepherd. They had no one to properly care for them, to protect and feed them, to lead them to quiet waters and pasture them in green meadows. No one who loved them and was willing to take full responsibility for them. No one to walk with them through the dark, dark valleys of life (and death).

And so he came, to be the shepherd of the sheep. To be the one whose love and grace are such that he would bear all things for them, to rescue and restore, even to the laying down of his life. To be the shepherd who knows his sheep, personally and intimately. Who calls them by name and whose voice is unmistakable and whose lips have been anointed with grace.

This is our Lord, our Saviour. We belong to him - and not for the years of time alone. What gladness that, through all changing scenes of life, we are his.

Notice that our Lord's words in that paragraph also lay out a part for us to play, in seeing the desperation that's all around us: pray the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into his harvest field. It belongs to him, he has brought it to the point of readiness to reap, but additional labourers are needed. As we respond to the Lord's word, we're praying for more people to be called and set apart for gospel work.

But we can also, haltingly but humbly, ask him to please use us, weak and frail as we are, to be a blessing to others. Not because we have all the answers to their many questions or the supplies for all their needs - but, simply, because our own hearts have been touched by the compassion of the Good Shepherd; as he leads us to "come in and go out and find pasture," our hearts' longing is for all the harassed and helpless around us to hear his shepherd's call.

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

O! tell me, Thou life and delight of my soul,

Where the flock of Thy pastures are feeding;

I seek Thy protection, I need Thy control,

I would go where my Shepherd is leading.

O! tell me the place where Thy flocks are at rest,

Where the noontide will find them reposing?

The tempest now rages, my soul is distress'd,

And the pathway of peace I am losing.

O! why should I stray with the flocks of Thy foes,

'Mid the desert where now they are roving,

Where hunger and thirst, where affliction and woes,

And temptations their ruin are proving!

O! when shall my woes and my wandering cease?

And the follies that fill me with weeping!

Thou Shepherd of Israel, restore me that peace

Thou dost give to the flock Thou art keeping.

A voice from the Shepherd now bids thee return

By the way where the footprints are lying:

No longer to wander, no longer to mourn;

O fair one, now homeward be flying!

(Thomas Hastings, 1784-1872) 

His grace to me was not without effect (Joy in the Journey 81)

It seems that, often, one of the strongest impulses in many Christians is to shy away from affirming the effectiveness of the Lord's work in them. We loathe the faux-humility that is, in reality, a boastfulness that exalts a person and side-lines the Saviour. And so, knowing that "the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked," we err on the side of extreme caution and couch any statements about ourselves in the drabbest of terms.

We insist on referring to ourselves as 'sinners' when the New Testament never once uses that term to describe someone who is now a Christian. It doesn't deny our propensity to still sin - that would be foolish and naïve - but it constantly stresses our new status and our deliverance from the stranglehold of the power of sin. We need to take our lead from God's Word on this. Sin may still defile us but it no longer defines us.

The example of the apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 15 is extremely helpful. He is intent on honouring the veracity of the Lord's work in him and, indeed, through him. Without any affectation he says, "By the grace of God I am what I am...I worked harder than all of them - yet not I but the grace of God that was with me".

From such a long way back, from being one who did his very best to raze to the ground the fledgling church, Paul has been saved and put into God's service, entrusted in the power of the Spirit with breaking new gospel ground, taking the message of salvation to places as yet unreached. And all because the grace of God was powerfully at work in him.

What seems so counter-intuitive to us actually honours the Lord - and in turn helps us. He has worked in our lives and is still at work in us. We need to recognise that and receive the encouragement it gives us. And give to him the honour he so richly and rightly deserves.

We receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need not because we have special qualifications or have a certain potential that can be unleashed under the right circumstances. No, grace is the free favour of God, unconditioned by anything to do with our own efforts.

It isn't genuine humility to deny the strength and significance of saving grace in our lives. However much against the cultural grain of our church context it goes, we are to delight in and magnify the Lord for his work in us. Once we were blind, now we can see. Once we were dead in trespasses and sins in which we used to walk - now we are raised with Christ and seated in heavenly places.

Affirming this is not self-serving; it places the honour firmly where it belongs: with the Son of God who loved us and gave himself for us, in whom we are new creatures. The old has surely gone and the new is truly here.

Because his grace to us was not without effect.

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

O how the grace of God

Amazes me!

It loosed me from my bonds

And set me free!

What made it happen so?

His own will, this much I know,

Set me, as now I show,

At liberty.

My God has chosen me,

Though one of nought,

To sit beside my King

In heaven’s court.

Hear what my Lord has done

O, the love that made him run

To meet his erring son!

This has God wrought.

Not for my righteousness,

For I have none,

But for his mercy’s sake,

Jesus, God’s Son,

Suffered on Calvary’s tree—

Crucified with thieves was he—

Great was his grace to me,

His wayward one.

And when I think of how,

At Calvary,

He bore sin’s penalty

Instead of me,

Amazed, I wonder why

He, the sinless One, should die

For one so vile as I;

My Saviour he!

Now all my heart’s desire

Is to abide

In him, my Saviour dear,

In him to hide.

My shield and buckler he,

Covering and protecting me;

From Satan’s darts I’ll be

Safe at his side.

Lord Jesus, hear my prayer,

Thy grace impart;

When evil thoughts arise

Through Satan’s art,

O, drive them all away

And do Thou, from day to day,

Keep me beneath Thy sway,

King of my heart.

Come now, the whole of me,

Eyes, ears, and voice.

Join me, creation all,

With joyful noise:

Praise him who broke the chain

Holding me in sin’s domain

And set me free again!

Sing and rejoice!

(Emmanuel T Sibomana)

His love endures for ever (Joy in the Journey 80)

It's hard to acknowledge but sometimes, just sometimes, the Bible seems to be needlessly repetitive. We've come to expect it from preachers, but from the Bible itself?

Psalm 136 might strike you in that way. After every line, a phrase is repeated: "His love endures forever." A wonderful truth, but by the time you've read it 26 times it perhaps begins to lose a little of its lustre. And in that psalm it almost seems to hinder the flow of the words as they retell the story of creation and then of Israel's deliverance from Egypt and the victory over their enemies in the wilderness. Why construct the intrusion? Why not just start and end the psalm with the phrase? We'd be sure to get the point.

But maybe we wouldn't. Maybe we'd fail to see just how necessary and nourishing repetition is to our souls. That every moment of every day is undergirded by this reality. The spiritual discipline of rehearsing the goodness of God, of counting your blessings and naming them one by one, is not merely human advice. The pattern for the practice is firmly established in scripture and it is one we do well to embrace for ourselves.

This tells us something about how we're created and how our minds function. That truth repeated can become truth embedded. That its borrowed lines burrow their way into our hearts and minds and adhere there, retaining their Spirit-given ability to strengthen and sustain.

Proof for that is dramatically portrayed and offered to us as Psalm 136 closes its doors of praise and Psalm 137 opens in lament. After the final declaration that "His love endures forever", we are faced with these devastating words: "By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion." When it seems like the end of days has come, when the sky has fallen in, the echoes of the earlier refrain still linger. Because not only do we need the reminder of the love of God as we recount history, we also need it in the maelstrom of present sufferings too.

Let's not fail to see that the psalms are placed as they are for our instruction and our consolation. The agonies of Babylonian captivity are immediately preceded by the affirmation of the loyal love of the Lord that will never be terminated. His steadfast, saving love will outlast all the trials of time. It cannot be wrenched from us by the severest of circumstances, nor the cruellest of enemies. It cannot be torn from us by our own foolish capitulation to sin's deceitfulness - Romans 8:38,39 assures of us of that in the most emphatic terms. This is, indeed, love that reaches deeper than depths of self-despair.

Truth that is received and carved into our souls through regular rehearsal is truth that is ready to help us address the sorrows and the struggles of the darkest of times. It doesn't insulate us from them but it does offer insight within them - the breaking of the first light of dawn into the gloom of our lamenting, a shelter within the eye of the storm and the promise of a future that is inviolable.

We might not immediately read the repeated lines of scripture with relish but the wisdom of doing so is beyond doubt. And won't be regretted.

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

O teach me what it meaneth,

That cross uplifted high,

With One, the Man of Sorrows,

Condemned to bleed and die!

O teach me what it cost Thee

To make a sinner whole;

And teach me, Saviour, teach me

The value of a soul!

O teach me what it meaneth,

That sacred crimson tide,

The blood and water flowing

From Thine own wounded side.

Teach me that if none other

Had sinned, but I alone,

Yet still Thy blood, Lord Jesus,

Thine only, must atone.

O teach me what it meaneth,

Thy love beyond compare,

The love that reacheth deeper

Than depths of self-despair!

Yes, teach me, till there gloweth

In this cold heart of mine

Some feeble, pale reflection

Of that pure love of Thine.

O teach me what it meaneth,

For I am full of sin,

And grace alone can reach me,

And love alone can win.

O teach me, for I need Thee,

I have no hope beside—

The chief of all the sinners

For whom the Saviour died!

O infinite Redeemer!

I bring no other plea;

Because Thou dost invite me

I cast myself on Thee.

Because Thou dost accept me

I love and I adore;

Because Thy love constraineth,

I’ll praise Thee evermore!

(Lucy Ann Bennett, 1850-1927)

Why the lives of early Christians had a great impact

We who formerly delighted in fornication now embrace chastity alone; we who formely used magic arts dedicate ourselves to the good and unbegotten God; we who valued above all things the acquisition of wealth and possessions now bring all we have into a common stock and share it out to all according to their need; we who hated and destroyed one another and on account of their different manner of life would not live with men of another tribe, now, since the coming of Christ, live happily with them, and pray for our enemies and endeavour to persuade those who hate us unjustly to live conformably to the good precepts of Christ, so that they may become partakers with us of the same joyful hope of a reward from God the ruler of all. (Justin Martyr)

Michael Green, commenting on those words, says:

The link between holy living and effective evangelism could hardly be made more effectively. In particular, Christians stood out for their chastity, their hatred of cruelty, their civil obedience, good citizenship and payment of taxes (despite the severe suspicion they incurred on this count because they refused to pay the customary civil formality of praying to the emperor and state gods). They did not expose infants; they did not swear. They refused to have anything to do with idolatry and its by-products. Such lives made a great impact.

(Evangelism in the Early Church, p.184)

Christ formed in you (Joy in the Journey 79)

In the heat of battling for the Galatians' hearts and minds, the apostle Paul writes of his overriding aim: that Christ might be formed in them (4:19). It's a powerful image and one that speaks into our lives, whatever the circumstances, because of its primacy in the whole work of salvation.

Paul's aim in preaching and teaching, in praying and pastoring, is to see the likeness of the Messiah displayed not simply in individuals but within and among churches ('Christ' is often used to indicate the corporate nature of the church). But 'displayed' doesn't do justice to what he writes: formation is his goal; being shaped and fashioned into the life and character of the Saviour, in the power of the Holy Spirit.

It is not for nothing that he uses in this verse the metaphor of childbirth, the forming of a life in the womb and its being brought into the world. Formation is a long process, whether it's gestation or the processes we see in the natural world - rocks smoothed and shaped by the incessant pressure of the waves and rivers; landscapes sculpted by the weather over long ages.

That we're thinking about a lengthy process means we're forced to contend with the need for patience and perseverance, for arduous toil, in all weathers and, often, against the tides. It's good to be realistic and clear-eyed about what is involved.

You see that in Paul's ongoing prayer and labours; you see it in Epaphras wrestling in prayer for his brothers and sisters in Colossae. And, supremely, we see it in the Lord Jesus Christ, praying in the hours before the cross, praying for his disciples and for those who would come to believe in him, praying that we would be formed into a unity that reflects the inner life of God himself - Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Formation is no easy work but it is deeply worthy. The life of God in the warp and woof of the souls of men and women. Originally made in his image but deformed by sin's ugliness, that marred image is now being renewed, the deep flaws being healed, cleansed by the washing with water through the gospel word.

Christ is being formed in us - and among us - as his people. To willingly submit to his shaping of our souls and to partner with him in working out his salvation in our lives is a high calling. It takes time; much time. It will take the wisdom and power of God, of the crucified and risen Lord.

Without doubt all formation involves pain and struggle. But one day it will be completed and the final unveiling of his people, his bride, will bring him endless delight and eternal glory. "God's dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them" - fully formed and radiant in his all-consuming love.

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

I thirst, Thou wounded Lamb of God,

To wash me in Thy cleansing blood;

To dwell within Thy wounds; then pain

Is sweet, and life or death is gain.

Take my poor heart, and let it be

For ever closed to all but Thee!

Seal Thou my breast, and let me wear

That pledge of love for ever there.

How blest are they who still abide

Close sheltered in Thy bleeding side;

Who life and strength from thence derive,

And by Thee move, and in Thee live!

What are our works but sin and death,

Till Thou Thy quickening Spirit breathe?

Thou giv'st the power Thy grace to move;

O wondrous grace! O boundless love!

How can it be, Thou heavenly King,

That Thou shouldst us to glory bring;

Make slaves the partners of Thy throne,

Decked with a never-fading crown?

Hence our hearts melt, our eyes o'erflow;

Our words are lost; nor will we know,

Nor will we think of aught beside,

My Lord, my Love, is crucified!

Ah, Lord, enlarge our scanty thought,

To know the wonders Thou hast wrought;

Unloose our stammering tongues, to tell

Thy love immense, unsearchable.

First-born of many brethren Thou!

To Thee, lo! all our souls we bow;

To Thee our hearts and hands we give:

Thine may we die, Thine may we live!

(Nicolaus Ludwig von Zizendorf, 1700-60;

Johann Nitschmann, 1712-83;

Anna Nitschmann, 1715-60;

tr. John Wesley, 1703-91)

The righteousness that goes before Him (Joy in the Journey 78)

The 'ground' of 2021 still lies mostly fresh before us, untrodden and, in large measure, unseen. Some steps that we will take are known to us, others are beyond our sight. But even those we believe we can see are likely to contain hidden depths and aspects unknown by us. And what is hidden from us often causes hesitation and even alarm.

All of which leads to a solemn conclusion: we need to be led through all the days given to us.

Each life is lived one day at a time and every day is navigated step by step. We're urged to keep in step with the Spirit as we make choices, reach decisions and consecrate our days in faith to the Lord. But with each step we stand in need of his guiding hand upon our lives.

Psalm 85 was written within days of longing for God's blessing to be known once more, for previously experienced realities to return. We may well share in those longings, personally and as churches. As the psalm draws to a close it offers us the solid assurance of guidance and the hope we so badly need:

"Love and faithfulness meet together;
righteousness and peace kiss each other.
Faithfulness springs forth from the earth,
And righteousness looks down from heaven.
The LORD will indeed give what is good,
and our land will yield its harvest.
Righteousness goes before him
and prepares the way for his steps." (verses 11-13)

The journey that the Lord takes - and that he leads his people on - is one whose every step has been prepared by and within his righteousness - his faithful, unbreakable promises, his full-blown integrity and steadfast, committed love. At its heart, the gospel is the unveiling of that righteousness - from faith and for faith; the power of God that brings salvation for all who believe.

That righteousness, that gospel reality, is the foundation for every move the Lord takes with his people. His every step is prepared by and in righteousness and so possesses a solidity that is unmatched and unattainable by human effort. He lacks no wisdom and pours into every life that he holds in his hands an abundance of mercy and compassion.

Here is where we find hope and can place our whole confidence for our unseen journeys. The ground of all our days has been secured by the meeting together of the love and faithfulness of God, the embrace of his righteousness and peace, in the giving of his Son to be our Saviour. His sacrifice means that there will indeed be a harvest - in the lives reclaimed and made fruitful, to the glory and praise of God.

The steps we will take through this year remain a mystery to us, but the One who has our names inscribed on his palms is not. He has unveiled his merciful face and has called us by name. He goes out, ahead of his sheep, and we can follow him in the quiet contentment of ultimate security.

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

Lead me, Lord, lead me in Thy righteousness;

    Make Thy way plain before my face.

Lead me, Lord, lead me in Thy righteousness;

    Make Thy way plain before my face.

For it is Thou, Lord; Thou, Lord, only,

    That makest me dwell in safety.

For it is Thou, Lord; Thou, Lord, only,

    That makest me dwell in safety.

Why the churches in Revelation were in danger of dying

I was sat wondering: what did the churches in Revelation get wrong? Why were they on the verge of dying? So much of the talk about dying churches today (and the remedy for it) focusses on evangelism. Here's what I found by asking a couple of basic questions:

What were they commended for?

• I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance. I know that you cannot tolerate wicked people, that you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them false. You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary. (2:2,3)
• You have this in your favour: You hate the practices of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate. (2:6)
• I know your afflictions and your poverty—yet you are rich! (2:9)
• I know where you live—where Satan has his throne. Yet you remain true to my name. You did not renounce your faith in me, not even in the days of Antipas, my faithful witness, who was put to death in your city—where Satan lives. (2:13)
• I know your deeds, your love and faith, your service and perseverance, and that you are now doing more than you did at first. (2:19)
• You have a few people in Sardis who have not soiled their clothes. (3:4)
• I know your deeds. See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name. (3:8)
• You have kept my command to endure patiently (3:10)

What were they taken to task over?

• You have forsaken the love you had at first. (2:4)
• There are some among you who hold to the teaching of Balaam, who taught Balak to entice the Israelites to sin so that they ate food sacrificed to idols and committed sexual immorality. Likewise, you also have those who hold to the teaching of the Nicolaitans. (2:14,15)
• You tolerate that woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophet. By her teaching she misleads my servants into sexual immorality and the eating of food sacrificed to idols. (2:20)
• I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have found your deeds unfinished in the sight of my God. (3:1,2)
• I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth. You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. (3:15,16)

Were any of them upbraided for being insufficiently evangelistic? No, none of them. A number were on the verge of dying, of having their candlestick removed - not because they didn't speak about Jesus but because of the quality of their lives and their compromised faithfulness.

Does this have anything to say to us?

Guard your heart

(Brief notes for prayer meeting 5/1/21)

Read Proverbs 4, then focus on verse 23: "Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it."

The whole quality and content of our lives flows from the state of our hearts. There is a very real link here to Micah 6:8 "walk humbly with your God" - the need for care and prudence. We can easily break what is around us and we can (unintentionally) do ourselves spiritual self-harm.

We are vulnerable, prone to wander, prone to needless anxieties and to sinful distractions. Our hearts can become weighed down by disappointments and frustrations - the very things that can suck the spiritual life out of us. (Parable of the Sower)

We need this warning, this exhortation.

We need to recognise the dangers we face and not assume our defences cannot be breached.

But it is more than a defensive posture we need. Guarding our hearts, in large measure, means filling them with good things, allowing them space to breathe the clear air of heaven. To taste the royal food of the Saviour's banquet. To embrace truth that shines a light on error.

And asking the Lord to guard us, to keep us in the depths of our being: "you who through faith are shielded by God's power for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time" (1 Peter 1:5).

We can ask him as we pray to help us keep our hearts, to help us to embrace the wisdom that is our Lord Jesus Christ. The life we have in him is life indeed. From him flows rivers of eternal joy and goodness. Let's not be diverted from that, from him.

A doorway into sacred space (Joy in the Journey 77)

"Between every stimuli and response there is a space; silence and solitude creates a sacred space, an elongated space; this space gives you time to develop a creative response to what you're feeling - otherwise there is only reaction."

No one knows who said this - in fact, it may never have been said or written originally in that form at all. It's probably a conflation from several minds. But it poses an interesting possibility. One that isn't always in play, of course - some stimuli produce instant reaction for which there is no gap in which to make any kind of choice. Those reactions are embedded within our minds and graven on our psyche.

But the entrance of God's Word brings light. It opens, by the Spirit's creative energies, a space, often elongated and by nature sacred, in which we can pause to consider and then to respond.

When we read the Scriptures, as we intentionally stop to pray with the psalmist, "Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in your law", we find we've entered that space. It's not time standing still - we wrestle continually with thoughts that race within the gaps between the passing of the seconds and discover, to our dismay, that time hasn't stopped and our distractibility has betrayed us once more. No, it's not the suspending of time but it sometimes is its elongation. The unknown author has chosen well.

And in that Spirit-given space there are possibilities and invitations to sit, like Mary, at the Master's feet, to mine the gold of divine promises, to carve for ourselves clefts in the rock, as we look to the Rock that is higher than we.

It can't really be explained. It's hard enough simply to describe it. But we know it's real. The Lord is there. He has purposely opened for us a doorway into animated suspension. And in that realm of light he delights to answer our prayer and we catch glimpses of those "wonderful things", indeed the Wonderful One, he whom our heart desires.

As this year opens before us, we might want to pray that our rushing hearts would be hushed and our frantic pursuits halted, for a moment or two - moments in which the Lord Jesus himself meets with us. That with Isaiah we might know our lips touched with live coals, that with the two on the Emmaus road we might know our hearts strangely warmed within us. In the spaces between the seconds.

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

As pants the hart for cooling streams,

When heated in the chase,

So longs my soul, O God, for Thee,

And Thy refreshing grace!

For Thee, my God, the living God,

My thirsty soul doth pine;

O when shall I behold Thy face,

Thou Majesty divine!

God of my strength, how long shall I,

Like one forgotten, mourn?

Forlorn, forsaken, and exposed

To my oppressor's scorn.

Why restless, why cast down, my soul?

Hope still, and thou shalt sing

The praise of Him who is thy God,

Thy health's eternal spring.

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

the God whom we adore,

be glory, as it was, is now,

and shall be evermore.

(Nahum Tate, 1652-1717

Nicholas Brady, 1659-1726)

No more night (Joy in the Journey 76)

The Bible begins with darkness - a darkness that was over the surface of the deep. And everything, within that darkness, was formless and empty, devoid of meaning and order and beauty.

Until God spoke the first words that are ever recorded from his mouth: "Let there be light." Light to flood and eliminate the darkness. Light that will allow for shape and harmony and life itself to flourish. The empty filled and the formless ordered and beautified.

Our lives also began in darkness, hidden deep within the womb. And from our earliest days we have known darkness - a daily darkness as the sunlight fades and a daily darkness in the shadows cast by sin within and chaos without. In the gospel, the voice of God is heard speaking the same illuminating words as he shines into our hearts the light of his glory, seen in the face of Jesus Christ, his Son and our Saviour.

And yet we still know the rising and fading of the light, from day to day. We live within time and we live in the overlap of ages - this present evil age that has been invaded by the saving reign of Jesus, the age to come now present in embryonic power. We have become "light in the Lord" but still wrestle with the sorrowing darkness.

As the Bible draws to a close, a future is promised where “there will be no more night” (Rev. 22:5); no more darkness or chaos. That darkness is not dispelled by the brightness of the sun, but "the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp" (Rev. 21:23).

The creation of sun, moon and stars for light on the earth was always subsidiary, temporary and prophetic, 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 ushers in a future healed of sorrows and devoid of pain.

So, as one year closes - and such a year - and as a new one begins, we long for the day when "The nations will walk by [his] light" and we pray with sure and certain hope, “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.”

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Light of the world, for ever, ever shining,

There is no change in Thee;

True Light of life, all joy and health enshrining,

Thou canst not fade nor flee.

Thou hast arisen, but Thou declinest never;

Today shines as the past;

All that Thou wast Thou art, and shalt be ever,

Brightness from first to last.

Night visits not Thy sky, nor storm, nor sadness;

Day fills up all its blue,

Unfailing beauty, and unfaltering gladness,

And love for ever new!

Light of the world! undimming and unsetting,

O shine each mist away!

Banish the fear, the falsehood, and the fretting;

Be our unchanging day.

(Horatius Bonar, 1808-89)