No Shifting Shadows (Joy in the Journey)

Dislocated from its context, James 1:17 sounds so comforting: the God we know in Jesus is the giver of every good and perfect gift. We’d like some of that, please. If there’s a queue, where do we join it? We’re happy to wait in line for our turn.

But set within its context, these verses appear to make little sense at first glance. Because they’re the final part of a jigsaw that begins by telling us to “Consider it pure joy…whenever you face trials of many kinds” (1:2), that warns against being double-minded and unstable in our faith (1:8) and lays bare our innate weakness, being tempted when we are dragged away by our own evil desires and enticed (1:14).

Where have all the good gifts gone?

James wrote as one of us - just as Elijah was (5:17). A man who knew his own fallibilities and tendency to sin and failure. And he wrote as one who had seen up close and personal the sheer goodness of God in his Son, Jesus, the half-brother of James. Somehow all these words hang together, we just need to see how.

Often the most helpful thing to do when we come across that kind of perplexing teaching is to ‘park it’, to let it just lie there, in our hearts and minds, and to wait - to wait on the One whose wisdom and timing are not suspect. On this occasion, the help we might so much need is perhaps only a few verses away.

The jarring opening call to consider trials as pure joy is partly offset by the reminder that God is not absent from them but has a purpose for us within them, that he is working perseverance in us, that we might be mature and complete (1:4). The statements of verses 17 and 18 then develop that thought in significant ways:

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of first-fruits of all he created.”

James sets our experiences in life, even - and perhaps especially - our struggles, within the larger frame of God’s purposes and God’s character. His work, that which we can see clearly as well as those aspects that remain hidden from us, is defined by his goodness and by an unhindered, unblemished completeness. There is no lack in all he has planned for us and no aspect of it is ‘shady’. We must not allow our pains to deceive us into thinking he is somehow less than the God he is. All that he allows into our life will ultimately contribute to the completing of the grace that saves and beautifies us.

All this is because the gifts, the opportunities to trust him and lean into his ways, come from the One who is the Father of the heavenly lights. The One who orders all our days, the One who ordains times and seasons for our benefit. Seasons may change - indeed, they must - but throughout every moment of all the changing scenes of life, be they trouble or joy, he does not change like shifting shadows. There is not the slightest hint in his being of any movement away from utter faithfulness, no capitulation to force of circumstance.

No storm, however severe, will compel him to change course and downgrade his commitment to be our God and for us to be his people. We are, and ever will be, his treasured possession, a first-fruits of all he created.

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Loved with everlasting love,

Led by grace that love to know,

Spirit, breathing from above,

Thou hast taught me it is so.

O this full and perfect peace!

O this transport all divine!

In a love which cannot cease,

I am His and He is mine.

Heaven above is softer blue,

Earth around is sweeter green;

Something lives in every hue

Christless eyes have never seen:

Birds with gladder songs o'erflow,

Flowers with deeper beauties shine,

Since I know, as now I know,

I am His, and He is mine.

His for ever, only His;

Who the Lord and me shall part?

Ah, with what a rest of bliss

Christ can fill the loving heart!

Heaven ad earth may fade and flee,

First-born light in gloom decline,

But while God and I shall be,

I and His and He is mine.

(George Wade Robinson, 1838-77)

Cover to Cover (Joy in the Journey)

When Adam and Eve sinned, the weight of their shame was intolerable. It had been noted at the end of the previous chapter that they “were both naked and they felt no shame” (Gen. 2:25) - an intriguing note to conclude the creation account, the first suggestion of a cloud on the horizon of their sinless world. A glance backwards to a paradise now lost from what had become shame-filled in the very next chapter. From not knowing any shame to being overwhelmed by it, our first parents had fallen so grievously.

The response of the LORD God to their experiential need is one of deepest grace: he “made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them” (Gen. 3:21). Their agony needed more than the objective removal of their guilt in the forgiveness of God, a mercy he is always quick to offer. They needed the nakedness of their shame to be covered. They needed their eyes to be shielded from all that would remind them of their defection and betrayal. They needed their shame to be removed from the sight of all, both creature and Creator.

And the LORD, in all his sensitivity and kindness, provided them with that shelter. A covering that brought relief, that spoke not simply of sins forgiven but of the burial from sight of the ugliness of their shame. This is the same garment that the Lord Jesus wrapped around those he spoke forgiveness to - through his words that spoke acceptance and welcome and through his acts of compassion that sat he and they at the same table.

The gospel doesn’t only proclaim our forgiveness, it offers release from the shame that chokes our souls with the acrid smoke that rises from the pit of sin. Not only are we acquitted through the death of Jesus but we are accepted in the Beloved - clothed with God’s own Son, in the holiest ‘garment of skin’ there could ever be.

It falls to those who have been so clothed that they, in turn, become instrumental in relieving the shame of others: “My brothers and sisters, if one of you should wander from the truth and someone should bring them back, remember this: Whoever turns a sinner from the way of error will save them from death and cover over a multitude of sins.” (James 5:19,20).

It is, of course, vital to see that this is not a cover-up of sins, as though simply hiding them from sight could assuage the guilt and shame they bring. It cannot. This is the covering over of sin, through repentance and forgiveness. A forgiveness that isn’t simply objective but one that aims at full restoration and the unburdening of a conscience that has been tortured by self-inflicted shame.

That work of recovery must ever be done gently and in full recognition of our own brittle state (Gal. 6:1). Only those whose own shame has been comprehensively covered can lay that same garment upon others’ sin-blistered shoulders.

The Bible's story reads from cover to cover.

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I bring my sins to Thee,

The sins I cannot count,

That all may cleansed be

In Thy once-opened fount:

I bring them, Saviour, all to Thee;

The burden is too great for me.

My heart to Thee I bring,

The heart I cannot read,

A faithless, wandering thing,

An evil heart indeed:

I bring it, Saviour, now to Thee,

That fixed and faithful it may be.

My life I bring to Thee,

I would not be my own;

O Saviour, let me be

Thine ever, Thine alone!

My heart, my life, my all I bring

To Thee, my Saviour and my King.

(Frances Ridley Havergal, 1836-79)

Unmuted (Joy in the Journey)

"Richard, you’re on mute!" Whoops. It’s happened lots of times, to many of us. Recently I had the experience of not being able to unmute and quickly wrote a message and held it up to the screen, “I can’t unmute!” It was soon rectified and wasn’t a problem.

But we have a muteness that is a problem, one that only the gospel can cure. We were born to know and love the Lord, to praise our Maker while he gives us breath. And to discover in doing so that we are becoming more like him (it is a settled law, revealed in scripture, that we become like the objects of our worship). But sin mutes us, robs us of speech worthy of God, makes the soul stammer its way into silence. A silent soul shrivels, calcifies in ignorance of the One whose love makes alive.

In Mark 7:31-37, our Lord Jesus encountered a man who was deaf and mute. Unable to hear others praising God, detached from all teaching of God’s Word. And without any means to make himself known and understood. This is not how it was meant to be. The gravity of the man’s condition was such that Jesus looks to heaven and sighs deeply before he speaks words of release.

There is something so moving about how the Lord meets the man in all his need. A man who cannot hear will not be able to understand the commotion and will likely be distressed and confused by the crowds. So Jesus takes him aside - he isn’t going to make a show of him. And he then enacts wordlessly what he is going to do for him - he puts his fingers in the man’s ears, he spits (saliva was believed to have healing properties), he touches the man’s tongue. Each movement communicating something of what this is about.

And then he looks up to heaven, sighs and speaks to open the man’s ears and loose his tongue. This is not the work of a showman or a magician; this is the Lord himself, coming to set free and restore the helpless, those separated and silenced by the scourge of sin.

This beautiful moment is recognised by the crowd. They praise God, rejoicing that Jesus has done all things well. Perhaps they knew - or maybe they didn’t - that this scene is a clear and compelling fulfilment of Isaiah 35:6, where the coming of the Messiah will mean that “the mute tongue [will] shout for joy”. The equivalent term in Greek for the one used there only occurs once in all the New Testament, here in Mark 7.

This is what the Messiah has come to do - to set people free so that we might be able to listen as the Lord speaks to us and respond with glad shouts of praise. And then to use our mouths as a blessing to others, speaking words of hope and healing, words of gospel grace and kingly kindness.

We've been unmuted.

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O for a thousand tongues to sing
    My great Redeemer’s praise,
The glories of my God and King,
    The triumphs of His grace.

My gracious Master and my God,
    Assist me to proclaim,
To spread through all the earth abroad
    The honours of Thy name.

Jesus! the name that charms our fears,
    That bids our sorrows cease;
’Tis music in the sinner’s ears,
    ’Tis life, and health, and peace.

He breaks the power of cancelled sin,
    He sets the prisoner free;
His blood can make the foulest clean;
    His blood availed for me.

He speaks, and listening to His voice,
    New life the dead receive,
The mournful, broken hearts rejoice,
    The humble poor believe.

Hear Him, ye deaf, His praise, ye dumb,
    Your loosened tongues employ;
Ye blind, behold your Saviour come,
    And leap, ye lame, for joy.

Look unto Him, ye nations, own
    Your God, ye fallen race;
Look, and be saved through faith alone,
    Be justified by grace.

(Charles Wesley, 1707-88)

Meditating and Obeying (Joy in the Journey)

I have more insight than all my teachers,
for I meditate on your statutes.
I have more understanding than the elders,
for I obey your precepts. (Psalm 119:99f)

To grow in insight and understanding is a regular and proper concern for every Christian. Not to impress others, still less to curry favour with the Lord, but so that in knowing him more we might serve him and others with wisdom and in all humility.

These verses in the longest Psalm highlight 2 key factors in attaining greater insight and understanding - in growing to maturity in worshipping the living God, in following Jesus, in life in the Spirit - and they are these: meditating on what God has revealed and obeying what he has said.

Meditating - taking what the Bible discloses to us and giving it our sustained and determined, worshipful attention. Giving it time to percolate through our spiritual senses, enlarging our inner relish for God and his truth. Not simply consuming large quantities of the Bible but slowing down enough in order to taste it, to feel its power, to catch glimmers of the glory of God within its pages.

There are no shortcuts to insight - wisdom for living well and in fellowship with the Lord. It requires space and time. But the rewards more than repay the effort.

Obeying - simply doing all that God has said. Which, as we know, is far from simple - not because what he has said is inherently unclear but because our minds remain clouded by sin and its remnants. But the psalmist expresses what we can at least emulate: the desire and the determination to follow through on the call into a life lived in the presence of God, before his face, longing to please the One who has so loved us.

Begin there, with that desire, and often the next step comes into sharper focus as the Spirit works willingness in our hearts. Obedience leads to deeper understanding as we experience the authentication of truth in our everyday lives and in the enlarging of our hearts.

Mediating on God and his Word and then obeying what he says are the route to growing in insight and understanding. This is a compelling invitation to live in fulness.

But there is a slightly jarring note in these verses. The writer, perhaps someone still relatively young, contrasts his approach - of meditation and obedience - with their apparent lack in those who are his teachers, those who are older than him. It’s a salutary lesson being played-out before our eyes: it is possible to be a teacher of others, whether formally or informally, and not be growing in insight because we fail to meditate on God’s truth. We assume we know it, that a factual familiarity is sufficient.

And it is all too possible to be an older Christian - even someone recognised as an elder - and not be putting cherished truth into practice, walking in humble obedience. We don’t automatically have wisdom to share simply because we’ve ridden these streets for a long time. It grows in soil that is cultivated by meditation and watered by obedience.

That is a significant and humbling challenge. And in that way it offers an opportunity for meditation and prayer. To consider afresh what the Lord has done for us in his Son, to defend ourselves from becoming “blind and near-sighted, forgetting that we have been cleansed from [our] past sins” (2 Peter 1:9). And to resolve, in the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, to be renewed in our walk with him.

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Christ, whose glory fills the skies,

Christ, the true and only light,

Sun of Righteousness, arise,

Triumph o'er the shades of night;

Day-spring from on high, be near;

Day-star, in my heart appear.

Dark and cheerless is the morn

Unaccompanied by Thee;

Joyless is the day's return,

Till Thy mercy's beams I see,

Till they inward light impart,

Glad my eyes, and warm my heart.

Visit, then, this soul of mine;

Pierce the gloom of sin and grief;

Fill me, radiancy divine;

Scatter all my unbelief;

More and more Thyself display,

Shining to the perfect day!

(Charles Wesley, 1707-88)

We shall be like him (Joy in the Journey)

All sorts of thoughts and questions swirly around the ultimate destiny of Christians - the nature of heavenly life, what life on a renewed earth will be like, how we will experience the relationships we have enjoyed in this world, the nature of life in a resurrection body, and so many more. One thing, though is certain: the Bible says that “we shall be like him”, like our Lord Jesus Christ (1 John 3:2).

Of course, it remains beyond our ability, now, to understand all that will mean. But there are some things we can begin to piece together - and it is right to do so, since John says that the prospect of being like him ought to make an impact upon us.

Becoming like the One who has the Spirit without measure must mean that the fruit of that same Spirit will finally be fully realised in us and will be seen and experienced in its mature ripeness. Like him in love and joy and peace; like him in patience, kindness and goodness; like him in faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. It hardly seems possible and yet it will be so.

The One who is love to the very core of his being, love that delights to give itself to and for others, will be reflected in us, will be realised in us. We will no longer be capable of hurting others, of harming what God has made. Instead we will become channels of blessing, showered in mercy by the Lord upon others. We will ever live to bless the Lord in worship and to bless others in Christ-reflecting love and service.

How will this be so? What will cause the final leap from our present stutters and stumbles to such perfection? “We shall be made like him for we shall see him as he is.” No longer a veil between; no partial glimpses of our majestic Saviour. No longer will our eyes need to be shielded from the brilliance that is brighter than the sun. His light will not consume us but conform us to his own likeness.

No wonder there are times when heaven itself is stunned into silence. The dust of earth - this dust - mangled by sin, will one day reflect without any distortion the beauty of the Lord Jesus.

Not only does that lead us to bow our heads in a kind of wordless wonder, it also ought to give increased vigour to our desire now to be what we shall be then: Everyone who has this hope in Jesus purifies himself, even as Jesus is pure. The prospect of bearing uncreated light in our own souls to such a degree comes with a purifying heft, lodging a prayerful longing in our hearts to never again grieve the Spirit of holiness by whom we were sealed for the day of redemption.

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With harps and with viols

There stand a great throng
In the presence of Jesus,

And sing this new song:

    Unto Him who hath loved us
    And washed us from sin,
    Unto Him be the glory forever! Amen.

All these once were sinners,
Defiled in his sight,
Now arrayed in pure garments
In praise they unite:

He maketh the rebel
A priest and a king,
He hath bought us and taught us
This new song to sing:

How helpless and hopeless
We sinners had been,
If He never had loved us
Till cleansed from our sin:

Aloud in His praises
Our voices shall ring,
So that others believing,
This new song shall sing:

(Arthur Tappan Pierson, 1837-1911)

Lead me, LORD (Joy in the Journey)

David’s prayer in Psalm 5:8 gets right to the heart of so much of our need and longing: “lead me, LORD, in your righteousness.” The reason for the prayer is expressed as “because of my enemies” - because his life is far from easy, his days difficult and strained. The odds are against him and he feels it. So much is volatile and unpredictable. He’s walking on thin ice, paying a heavy price for his stab at living a godly life while all around him fill their hearts with malice.

To ask to be led is to recognise several possibilities: that we do not know the way; or, knowing the way, we cannot see it; or, knowing and seeing the way, we recognise its dangers and how much we need a capable guide to get us through. In all those ways, this prayer makes perfect sense and offers profound hope. Because the LORD knows the way that he takes and the way that he has set before us. Nothing is hidden from him, nothing comes as a surprise. He sees what we cannot and he can tame the terrors that cause us unceasing alarm. He is willing to take our arm and be our faithful guide.

To be led is to taken somewhere, towards something, to becoming someone. Places we cannot reach on our own. The maturity that always seems out of reach. We need to be led into all these - led into the light, with life as the destiny. Recognising the difficulties involved in the life of faith, David asks the LORD to “make your way straight before me.” Make the path clear. Lighten the darkness. Clear the rubble from the road, make the rough places smooth and untangle the chaos. Please, LORD.

The leading David seeks will be “in your righteousness”. Every step that we’re called to take will be in his complete integrity, in the commitment of his heart to make good on every promise he had made, in his unfailing goodness. He will not lead us astray and abandon us when the going gets tough. Our Lord Jesus came to fulfil all righteousness, from identifying with us in his baptism in the Jordan to carrying our sins in his body upon the tree. His ways never fail and his guidance never disappoints because they are anchored in the perfection of divine love.

The beautiful gospel song, Precious Lord, was written by Thomas A Dorsey from within the agony of the death of his wife in childbirth and the baby son she bore. In the song he prays, in the howling gale of sorrow, that the Lord would both lead him on and lead him home. There is our need in its entirety: to be led onward, in our life in Christ, in growing in grace and knowledge, in deepening trust in the Saviour; and to be led homeward, to the “fair city so bright where the Lamb is the light”, safe in the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

    Precious Lord, take my hand
    Lead me on, let me stand
    I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
    Through the storm, through the night
    Lead me on to the light
    Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

When my way grows drear, precious Lord linger near
When my light is almost gone
Hear my cry, hear my call
Hold my hand lest I fall
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

When the darkness appears and the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand
Guide my feet, hold my hand
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

    Precious Lord, take my hand
    Lead me on, let me stand
    I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
    Through the storm, through the night
    Lead me on to the light
    Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home.

(Thomas A. Dorsey, 1899-1993, © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc)

From a distant land (Joy in the Journey)

“Like cold water to a weary soul
Is good news from a distant land…” (Proverbs 25:25)

A weary soul. I guess we know what that’s like - inside out and front to back. Drained and needing something to raise us once more. Another day to get through, another hill to climb, another valley to exit. Tired to the bone at the core of our being.

This proverb paints the scene of the impact of good news arriving from a distant country - perhaps a report from the front-line, that says a loved one is safe. Or news that help and relief is on its way - that food will arrive, that vaccines will be delivered. That kind of news is so welcome and lifts the spirits.

The pages of the New Testament and its record of the life of Jesus certainly qualify as being ‘a distant land’ - far from us in time and geography and culture. But the events of those days - the life and work, the death and resurrection of our Saviour - are the ultimate good news that can refresh the weary and restore the depleted.

We are wearied by life in a world that is under sin, that is shrouded in death, whose every line seems to speak chaos and despair. The good news that is Christ crucified and risen has the capacity to refresh our hearts in hope and to breathe fresh impetus into our lives as we taste and see the goodness of God and are enveloped in his love.

This good news can give clarity to our faded vision, bringing into focus the grounds for our comfort, uncovering the solid ground on which all our hopes are founded. The cold, clear streams of the gospel are the truest refreshment for weary souls. The battle has been fought and won. The darkness will pass. The day is at hand.

But it’s also true that heaven itself, “where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God,” is also a distant country. It’s hard for us to picture it, to hold its reality in our minds. Even if LP Hartley is correct in saying that “the past is a foreign country; they do things differently there”, it is nevertheless a place we have been. We cannot say the same for our heavenly home, “a place that has to be believed to be seen”.

Yet from its distant shores we again hear ‘good news’ - that we have ultimate security in the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Nothing can separate us from it, from him. With him we shall one day rise and, seeing him as he is, the lamb in all his glory, we shall be made like him. Our welcome into his presence will be permanent and final. No more parting, no more sorrow. Only fullness of joy.

These days may take their toll on us - in fact, there can be no doubt that they have done. The defences in our souls have been constantly breached. Previously hard-won gains have perhaps begun to crumble away in the heat of trial. But good news reaches us still from a distant land - from the settled past and from the secure future. Good news that can quieten our hearts and renew our souls.

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As water to the thirsty,
as beauty to the eyes,
as strength that follows weakness,
as truth instead of lies,
as songtime and springtime
and summertime to be,
    so is my Lord,
    my living Lord,
so is my Lord to me.

Like calm in place of clamour,
like peace that follows pain,
like meeting after parting,
like sunshine after rain,
like moonlight and starlight
and sunlight on the sea,
    so is my Lord,
    my living Lord,
so is my Lord to me.

As sleep that follows fever,
as gold instead of grey,
as freedom after bondage,
as sunrise to the day,
as home to the traveller
and all we long to see,
    so is my Lord,
    my living Lord,
so is my Lord to me.

(© Timothy Dudley-Smith, 1926-)

Turn Your Steps (Joy in the Journey)

Psalm 74 portrays the experiences of the people of Israel in the most graphic terms. Their enemies had roared against them, had smashed the carved panelling in the temple, burning it to the ground. Everything that gave the people a sense of meaning and place was gone. Perhaps worst of all, they believed this was permitted by God, that his anger smouldered against them as the sheep of his pasture.

Their lives had been severely disrupted. All around them is the rubble of dreams that once were cherished but now lie shattered in the dust. And from that place of suffering and loss they call out to the LORD,

“Turn your steps toward these everlasting ruins…” (v.3)

The ruins of the temple; the ruins of their lives. The ruins of humanity under the power of sin - what has been termed ‘noble ruins’. Made for so much, in the image and likeness of God, but devastated, through and through, by sin.

Everlasting ruins. Does that mean there is no hope, that this is the ultimate and unending destiny of what was designed in goodness and with the dignity of nobility? Will the ruins persist as an endless memorial to the victory of sin? Is that what ‘everlasting’ means here?

No, it doesn’t - for which we can be so thankful. Everlasting refers instead to the value and destiny of what is now in ruins. In Israel’s day, the temple and the lives that were framed around it. More broadly, humanity as created by God and for life in him.

What was made to be everlasting lies broken and devastated - and so the prayer, the longing, for the Lord to turn his steps towards those ruins.

“Turn your steps”: come this way. Come and see; turn toward us with pity and compassion. Come and rebuild, come and honour what is in ruins - honour it with life and salvation.

And he did: in the incarnation of his Son. His steps turned towards humanity in sin, lying ruined in the rubble. He did not give a passing glance, observing from a safe distance. He came and shared our humanity - his steps turned towards the darkness, the haunts of shame where we cower in fear. He came that we might be brought into the light - his light, the light of his face - and be delivered from final ruin.

He turned his steps toward us in order to face the monsters of sin and death, of chaos and evil (Leviathan in the psalm). Turned not back from the track of sacrifice, of overwhelming sorrows and anguish, in order to restore the fallen.

The prayer was answered and it is answered still, as we ask him to draw near to, to turn his steps toward, the broken-hearted and those who are crushed in spirit, hopelessly lost and ruined in sin. To come by and to save. To walk alongside us, too, in all our frailties and in the failures that laden our souls with shame.

We cannot rebuild our lives; we cannot re-build our churches; we cannot re-build our national life. These are beyond us - but the one to whom we pray can lay a fresh foundation, can raise individuals and communities into new life, restoring what was ruined. Turn your steps - come to us, O Lord.

He is our King from long ago (v.12) and he will not pass us by.

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Come, O Thou Traveller unknown,
Whom still I hold, but cannot see!
My company before is gone,
And I am left alone with Thee;
With Thee all night I mean to stay,
And wrestle till the break of day.

I need not tell Thee who I am,
My misery and sin declare;
Thyself hast called me by my name;
Look on Thy hands, and read it there:
But who, I ask Thee, who art Thou?
Tell me Thy name, and tell me now.

In vain Thou strugglest to get free;
I never will unloose my hold!
Art Thou the Man that died for me?
The secret of Thy love unfold:
Wrestling, I will not let Thee go,
Till I Thy name, Thy nature know.

Yield to me now; for I am weak,
But confident in self-despair;
Speak to my heart, in blessings speak,
Be conquered by my instant prayer;
Speak, or Thou never hence shalt move,
And tell me if Thy Name is Love.

’Tis Love! ’tis Love! Thou diedst for me!
I hear Thy whisper in my heart;
The morning breaks, the shadows flee,
Pure, universal Love Thou art;
To me, to all, Thy mercies move:
Thy nature and Thy name is Love.

I know Thee, Saviour, who Thou art,
Jesus, the feeble sinner’s Friend;
Nor wilt Thou with the night depart,
But stay and love me to the end;
Thy mercies never shall remove:
Thy nature and Thy Name is Love.

(Charles Wesley, 1707-88)

In the full measure of the blessing of Christ

Paul writes to the church in Rome about his hopes to come to them, on his way to Spain. His confidence is this: “I know that when I come to you, I will come in the full measure of the blessing of Christ.”

This isn’t an isolated point in the letter. As he began, Paul spoke of his longing to visit them and, again, was sure that doing so would mean “that you and I may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith” (1:12). And in 15:32 he adds that, if God wills he should spend time with them, it will be “with joy…and in your company [I will] be refreshed.”

Unity is a wonderful aspect of Christian experience - we are joined together, we love each other and want the best for every brother and sister - want to see each one growing in the Lord, knowing his presence. Being together is truly a blessing. Knowing his presence as we worship together. Knowing the joys of fellowship when we meet and spend time together. Tasting and seeing, in one another’s company, that the Lord is good.

But there is something more to what Paul refers to as “the full measure of the blessing of Christ.” In chapter 15 he has uppermost in his thoughts (actually, this has governed the whole letter) his aim to take the gospel to where it hasn’t yet reached. And he is so keen to do so in partnership with the church in Rome (they helping him on his way, refreshed and encouraged). It seems then that the blessing of Christ he is so sure he will know when he is able to come to them is the blessing of unity in the mission of the Messiah. Hearts and minds joined together in the Spirit as they seek to pray for and to live into God’s mission to all nations.

The unity he delights in - that we, too, are so privileged to share in - reaches something of a peak in their joint commitment to the Lord’s glory being magnified through all the world as his gospel bears fruit among all nations.

I think we sense that there is an extra dimension to our sense of unity as we pray for that, both locally and more broadly. As we ask the Lord to meet people in all their needs and to shine his light into their hearts, even through the darkest of circumstances. As we pray for his Spirit to cause his Word to come with power and deep conviction into the lives of those who don’t know him.

The full measure of the blessing of Christ - the fullness of his heart and his work to redeem, the love of God for the salvation of a numberless multitude. To seek that is such a privilege; it humbles and lifts our hearts in joy as we pray together.

He directs your steps (Joy in the Journey)

You’ve got plans that need to be made, steps forward that need to be taken. You glance in the direction of heaven and hope that, somehow, the Lord will nod indulgently in agreement. There’s so much you don’t want to miss out on - if you don’t keep tight control over every decision, if you don’t make the play then who will?

Proverbs 20:24 speaks plainly to our FOMO, to the anxiety to retain control and to sweat all the details of life:

A person’s steps are directed by the LORD.
How then can anyone understand their own way?

Who has the final say, who holds the reins, whose plans are going to be realised? Not ours. Our steps are directed by the one who gave his own Son for us and will, with him, freely give us all things. Our days are ordered by the God who is light and in whom is no darkness at all. We need have no fear as to his competency nor his commitment to our good.

The need to trust him is underscored by the fact that we simply do not have the insight and depth of wisdom that are necessary to truly understand ourselves - our motivations, our foibles, the impact upon us of both nature and nurture, the radical disturbance of sin upon the soul.

Just a few verses earlier, Proverbs 20:5 alerts us to that when it recognises “The purposes of a person’s heart are deep waters.” Every one of us is a profound mystery, not simply to others but even to ourselves. We are beings with depths that can only be scoped by supreme wisdom - “one who has insight draws them out”.

We cannot understand our own way nor our own hearts, not truly and fully. It isn’t capitulation to put our trust in the one whose love never fails and whose wisdom has no lack.

But humility isn’t passivity, surrendering to the void of unknowing and being carried by the currents of circumstance. Proverbs 3:5,6, so beloved by many, expresses exactly the posture we ought to adopt:

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart

and lean not on your own understanding;

in all your ways submit to him,

and he will make your paths straight.”

Trust in the one who has covenanted to be your God; don’t lean into or upon your own insights. But in all your ways - in all your goings, as you walk and make your way through life - go with the flow of his faithfulness (submit to him). You won't be discarded at the last.

Our lives have so many variables. We’re often desperate to be in control but there are far too many things that are not within our grasp, that we cannot shape or bend to our will. Nor do we need to do so in order to properly thrive and to live with confidence and composure. Our times are in his hands, hands that were pierced for our redemption. He directs our steps and for that we can be truly thankful.

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

God holds the key of all unknown,
    And I am glad;
If other hands should hold the key,
Or if He trusted it to me,
    I might be sad.

What if tomorrow’s cares were here
    Without its rest?
I’d rather He unlocked the day,
And, as the hours swing open, say,
    ‘My will is best’.

The very dimness of my sight
    Makes me secure;
For, groping in my misty way,
I feel His hand; I hear Him say,
    ‘My help is sure’.

I cannot read His future plans;
    But this I know:
I have the smiling of His face,
And all the refuge of His grace,
    While here below.

Enough: this covers all my wants;
    And so I rest!
For what I cannot, He can see,
And in His care I saved shall be,
    For ever blest.

(Joseph Parker, 1830-1902)

Cloud-busting (Joy in the Journey)

It’s said that on a clear day you can see forever. But we live in a world that is frequently opaque and whose skies seem to be filled with the darkest clouds that threaten to break upon us with a ferocity we could not endure. Are there any prospects for brighter days?

Writing about Psalm 100 and noting its place in closing the small group of psalms 93-110, Derek Kidner helpfully notes that it “brings this group…up to an unclouded summit.” Earlier psalms had sounded the alarm, had pointed to the darkening skies but, as we take the final steps to the summit, those clouds clear and the view is stunning.

Which is just what we need.

The clarity of this beloved psalm runs through every line. We’ll notice just a few of its calming features.

i. Enter his gates with thanksgiving  A call and an invitation, to come into his presence and to refresh our hearts in worshipping the One who is alone worthy of all our praise and adoration. This isn’t tippy-toeing into his space with a feeling that we really oughtn’t to be there; it is a glad exultation in the presence of the living God, the perfectly proper and entirely apt response of our hearts to his radiant Being. Singing joyfully, with an amazed sense of privilege and with the deepest pleasure that can ever be known.

A recent newsletter from the City to City church-plating network makes the point that “The presence of God is not the absence of tension…”. Quite so. We do ourselves and others a disservice if we pretend that we can only know the nearness of the Lord if our lives are free of trouble. We can genuinely know and rejoice in the presence of the living God even amid the ongoing turmoil of life in this world.

What limits and ultimately defuses the impact of that tension is the merciful intervention of the God into whose presence we have been ushered, the grace in which we now stand.

ii. It is he who made us and we are his  We have a place to belong, a home where we are welcomed and settled. And we are “the sheep of his pasture”, sought and saved from all our wanton wanderings and the folly of our blind arrogance. The sins that separated us from him shall never be able to do so again because the sinless one gave himself for us, opening up a new and living way by which we may enter his brightness and not be consumed.

We are his flock, cared for and nurtured in all the fullness of life in the Spirit.

iii. What he is and what he does endures forever  He is good; he doesn’t need to become good or grow into it. This is his fundamental character. And in his elemental goodness he always acts with covenant love and in covenant faithfulness. Every aspect of his every involvement with us is governed by his unceasing, sacrificial love and his undaunted, undimmed commitment. This is simply and stunningly who he is.

These are the cloud-busting qualities that re-order our days and give renewed clarity to our skies. “His love, not mine, the resting-place, His truth, not mine, the tie” (Horatius Bonar). Come, then, into his presence - the summit is just ahead.

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

Fill your hearts with joy and gladness,
sing and praise your God and mine!
Great the Lord in love and wisdom,
might and majesty divine!
He who framed the starry heavens
Knows and names them as they shine!

Praise the Lord, his people, praise him!
Wounded souls his comfort know.
Those who fear him find his mercies,
peace for pain and joy for woe;
humble hearts are high exalted,
human pride and power laid low.

Praise the Lord for times and seasons,
cloud and sunshine, wind and rain;
spring to melt the snows of winter
till the waters flow again;
grass upon the mountain pastures,
golden valleys thick with grain.

Fill your hearts with joy and gladness,
peace and plenty crown your days;
love his laws, declare his judgements,
walk in all his words and ways,
he the Lord and we his children;
praise the Lord, all people, praise!

(© Timothy Dudley-Smith, 1926-)

Exchanging Insults

During the course of an (entertaining) interview about what books he's currently reading, Carl Trueman made the point about his non-use of Twitter,

I do not believe Jesus wants me to use my remaining years in exchanging insults with other Christians.

adding, more positively,

I think he wants all his people to witness to the world by using the time and talents he has given them to edify the body of Christ and to help the rising generation think clearly about the challenges we all face.

I can go with that.

Learning to forgive (Joy in the Journey)

The perspective of Joseph on his sufferings at the hands of his brothers is quite stunning. When he reveals himself to them they are (to paraphrase slightly) gob-smacked. And terrified. They have every reason to be so - it seems that their sins have finally caught up with them and their callous hearts exposed and condemned.

But Joseph immediately says to them, "Do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you." (Gen. 45:5)

And, again, a moment or two later, he affirms, "God sent me ahead of you to preserve a remnant on earth and to save your lives by a great deliverance. So, then, it was not you who sent me here, but God." (Gen. 45:7-8)

After the death of their father Jacob, Joseph again reassures his brothers of his heart toward them: "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives." (Gen. 50:21)

Long years of suffering had the power to foster a bitterness that would make his heart an acrid, barren place, Instead, Joseph displays a breath-taking grasp of God’s sovereign ways. In his seeming absence, he has been present, at work behind the scenes, preparing the way for a rescue that could not have been foreseen. And Joseph demonstrates a humble willingness to embrace God’s purpose in his suffering, recognising his own creaturely limitations ("Am I in the place of God?"), and embracing his brothers in forgiving grace.

It is his readiness to forgive that carves out for his brothers an opportunity to demonstrate repentance and so to know their sins cancelled and cleared. Their lives can begin again from this point. The past no longer needs to corrupt their future.

What Joseph had come to know is not a lesson that is casually learned. Such gains are exceedingly hard won. This is not a minor skirmish; it is a full-on battle that is fought on the ground of our desolated history. We must not condemn ourselves if we struggle to forgive when we know the deepest pain of being harmed by others.

Joseph’s reconciliatory spirit was forged over long years in the crucible of suffering. The grace he offered was not cheap, neither for him nor his brothers. All we can do is to ask the Lord to help us, in our distress. Ask him to heal our hearts, to pour his consolation into our souls, so that we might be taken closer to where Joseph now stood.

That consolation has not simply its root but its whole life and substance in the one who loved us and gave himself for us. This scene in Genesis leads us, with great and clarifying power, to see afresh the glory of the submission and humility of our Lord Jesus on the cross. How deeply and joyously glad we can be for his words, "Father, forgive them, they don’t know what they’re doing."

Over time, and as we consciously place ourselves into the hands that were pierced for us, the hands of the physician of souls, we might find that we are able to begin to pray - falteringly, haltingly, but truly - “Make me, O Lord, a channel of your peace.” The Lord Jesus, in his healing love, is able to make the words and the wisdom of James become visibly true in our lives, that “peacemakers who sow in peace raise a harvest of righteousness”.

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

At the cross where Jesus suffered,

I lay down my bitter blame;

Where he prayed, Father forgive them,

Lord I know I must do the same.

Laying down my pain, my anger,

Vengeful thoughts nailed to the cross;

Take the sting of wrongs remembered,

No more measuring my loss.

I'll not use my words as weapons,

Or the past to gain control;

On my tongue no trace of venom,

Only grace to comfort and make whole.

I am weak but God is with me,

Past and future in his hand;

Turns to good the ill we suffer,

Works all things into Love's plan.

Holy Dove, return and rest here,

As I think and speak the best;

Though it takes ten thousand choices,

I'll press on to honour and to bless.

For the love of Christ my Saviour,

By the strength he daily gives,

This will be the thanks I offer:

I will totally forgive.

    For my Father in heaven

    Showed mercy to me

    How can I not be merciful

    When God's been merciful to me,

    God's been merciful to me

(Graham Kendrick

Copyright © 2009 Make Way Music)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_T_lCAgrklg

Your enemies routed (Joy in the Journey)

We have enemies, within and without. The Bible couldn’t be plainer on this point. Whatever terms it might use - “the world, the flesh and the devil” is a good summary given by the apostle John - we battle against forces whose intent is to cause us harm and hurt. Eternally.

In Psalm 92 - a song for the sabbath day - the writer joyfully declares and celebrates the Lord’s character and ways as the one who is “for ever exalted”. And his supremacy and faithfulness lead to this statement:

“My eyes have seen the defeat of my adversaries;
My ears have heard the rout of my wicked foes.”

All that stood opposed to the writer in this life, all that was a sore point of contradiction within the soul, has been in principle overcome and defeated.

The seeing and hearing of this verse might refer to the physical reality of enemies in the original context, but it’s right and helpful for us to pursue its line of thinking into all that the gospel so clearly discloses to us. The powers of sin and chaotic disorder, the terrors of evil and death, have been engaged and overcome by our Lord Jesus Christ.

At times this might be an overlooked aspect of the gospel; where that’s the case we do ourselves a huge favour in reconnecting with it. Jesus our Messiah has won a great victory; it remains to be enacted in its fullest scope but its definitive nature is not in doubt. In his death on the cross, sin was condemned by God. As evil reached its height, in plunging the Lord of glory to the depths, it over-reached itself and was dealt the death-blow. The ragged lunging of shame was tamed, its imposter’s mask once and for all removed.

In Christ, by faith in God’s Son, we are more than conquerors. We share in all that he won through suffering. The gospels portray our Saviour as the great champion of his people, steadfast on the field of battle, even to the death of the cross. They are there not simply to provide us with information but to give the surest consolation and to pour strength into our enervated souls.

What this all means is that we can have confidence in facing what stands against us, in owning our weaknesses and naming our shame. We are not removed from them; we still battle hard and, at times, feel like hoisting a white flag in surrender. But those experiences do not negate the victory of Jesus. Somehow, in the strange and glory-filled wisdom of God, that triumph gets seen in and through our weaknesses.

And what becomes plain as we take courage from his promises is that “this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us” (2 Cor. 4:7). What we have seen and heard - that our enemies have been routed - becomes in some way visible and audible to those whose lives remain shrouded in darkness. And, please God, that realisation might be the first rays of the dawning in their hearts of “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.” (2 Cor. 4:6)

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Safe in the shadow of the Lord,

beneath his hand and power,

I trust in him,

I trust in him,

my fortress and my tower.

My hope is set on God alone,

though Satan spreads his snare,

I trust in him,

I trust in him,

to keep me in his care.

From fears and phantoms of the night,

from foes about my way,

I trust in him,

I trust in him,

by darkness as by day.

His holy angels keep my feet

secure from every stone;

I trust in him,

I trust in him,

and unafraid go on.

Strong in the everlasting Name,

and in my Father's care,

I trust in him,

I trust in him,

who hears and answers prayer.

Safe in the shadow of the Lord,

possessed by love divine,

I trust in him,

I trust in him,

and meet his love with mine.

(Timothy Dudley-Smith b. 1926)

Can these bones live? (Joy in the Journey)

“Can these bones live?” Can this life be turned-around? Can hope be embedded in the heart? Can these bones live, the dry bones we see all around us, the lives empty and forlorn, in the grip of the most desperate drought, in a nation that is weary and worn, that is often senseless and brutish? Can the darkness of death be dispelled and the light of resurrection dawn upon benighted souls?

Can our bones live? Can our dearth be reversed and our lives flooded again by the life of God? Are there any reasons to keep on keeping on?

The question was addressed to Ezekiel as a ‘son of man’ - a mere mortal. A man with all the usual limitations - from the dust and returning to the dust. Whatever answer can be given to the plight of the nation, it doesn’t lie with him. Having been asked, his response is marked by a humility that has within it the seeds of living hope:

“Sovereign LORD, you alone know.”

Yes, only he knows. It is as far beyond us as it was Ezekiel. His nation had been torn apart, stone by stone and life by life. There was the deepest decay at its heart. The powers that be (in this case, the Babylonian empire) were at their peak. There were no evident reasons for hope, none at all.

In a culture that continually self-harms, enthroning death by embracing decay, the same bleak outlook would seem to be true for us. Minor respites, here and there, perhaps. But genuine grounds for expectancy? It seems not.

Where all hope was seemingly dead and buried, the LORD speaks. He has addressed Ezekiel and now calls him to address the dry bones, to proclaim to them, to let them know that breath will enter them and they will come to life. And that happens when Ezekiel has further spoken, this time to the breath, at the Lord’s direction. The re-made but inanimate army would only then come to resurrection life.

A resurrection without life would be not simply irrational, it would also be intolerable and desolating. Lives reformed, returned to some sense of normality and meaning, yet without true transformation; re-calibrated but without the breath of life to give vitality and indissoluble joy. That isn’t what is so sorely needed and would be bitterly disappointing. We can be thankful for all that might change circumstances for the better, but we long for lives to be renewed at the deepest level.

The words of the Lord and the breath of the Lord: the live-giving message and the life-giving Spirit - these are the proper basis for genuine hope, a hope that leads to sustained prayer for new life. Come, O Lord...

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

O Breath of Life, come sweeping through us,
Revive Thy church with life and power,
O Breath of Life, come, cleanse renew us,
And fit Thy church to meet this hour.

O Wind of God, come, bend us, break us,
Till humbly we confess our need;
Then in Thy tenderness remake us,
Revive, restore; for this we plead.

O Breath of Love, come, breathe within us,
Renewing thought and will and heart:
Come, Love of Christ, afresh to win us,
Revive Thy church in every part.

Revive us Lord! Is zeal abating
While harvest fields are vast and white?
Revive us, Lord, the world is waiting,
Equip Thy church to spread the light.

(Elizabeth Ann Head, 1850-1936)

Pleading your own righteousness

Pleading your own righteousness is a mug’s game. Anyone who has any awareness of their own fallibility, their own propensity to sin and deceitfulness wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole.

Which is why, when we read something like Psalm 7:8 (”judge me, O LORD, according to my righteousness and according to the integrity that is in me”), our instinct is to run a mile and to morph the text into something along the lines of, ‘But, actually, if you did that I’d be in deep trouble - so please judge me according to Jesus’ righteousness instead.’

We can maintain that David spoke in these terms because this is the Old Testament; no gospel-respecting New Testament believer would ever think to ask to be dealt with on the basis of their own righteousness. And there’s absolutely no need to do so; you go with justification by faith every single time. It’s the only way to stay sane.

And yet…the great proponent of justification by faith, the apostle Paul, does just what David did (and Psalm 7:8 is far from an isolated example). He frequently calls God to be his witness that his behaviour and his motives have been pure and blameless. Here’s a few examples of that:

• God, whom I serve in my spirit in preaching the gospel of his Son, is my witness how constantly I remember you in my prayers at all times. (Rom. 1:9)
• My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me. (1 Cor. 4:4)
• Now this is our boast: Our conscience testifies that we have conducted ourselves in the world, and especially in our relations with you, with integrity and godly sincerity. We have done so, relying not on worldly wisdom but on God’s grace. (2 Cor. 1:12)
• I call God as my witness —and I stake my life on it—that it was in order to spare you that I did not return to Corinth. (2 Cor 1:23)
• On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to everyone’s conscience in the sight of God. (2 Cor. 4:2)
• we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it. For we must all appear before the judgement seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad. (2 Cor. 5:9,10)
• Since, then, we know what it is to fear the Lord, we try to persuade others. What we are is plain to God, and I hope it is also plain to your conscience. (2 Cor. 5:11)
• The God and Father of the Lord Jesus, who is to be praised forever, knows that I am not lying. (2 Cor. 11:31)
• I assure you before God that what I am writing you is no lie. (Gal. 1:20)
• God can testify how I long for all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus. (Phil. 1:8)
• we speak as those approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel. We are not trying to please people but God, who tests our hearts. (1 Thess. 2:4)
• You know we never used flattery, nor did we put on a mask to cover up greed —God is our witness. (1 Thess. 2:5)
• You are witnesses, and so is God, of how holy, righteous and blameless we were among you who believed. (1 Thess. 2:10)
• holding on to faith and a good conscience (1 Tim. 1:19)
• I thank God, whom I serve, as my ancestors did, with a clear conscience (2 Tim. 1:3)

And it’s not just Paul (is it ever just Paul?). The writer of Hebrews can confidently assert, “We are sure that we have a clear conscience and desire to live honourably in every way” (Heb. 13:18).

This spills over into how Paul admonishes believers to live holy lives, on the basis that God is their judge, both now and at the last day. They will, even now, be judged according to their righteousness ("if we judged ourselves truly then we wouldn’t be judged…" 1 Cor 11:31). If they have behaved decently and in the light then they can say so to the Lord as they walk with him. It won’t mean they have no difficulties to face - this isn’t a health/wealth paradigm that Paul is constructing - but they will be able to look God in the face as they worship him, openly and unashamed of their conduct.

It’s also interesting just how much instruction Paul gives to a younger, possibly timid believer - Timothy - to live righteously and in all godliness. Far more emphasis on that than on burying himself in the gospel, preaching the gospel to himself every day etc. (Sometimes received wisdom isn't as biblical as it seems...)

So what is this saying? And what am I suggesting? Simply that we must not allow the glory of justification to be diminished by appealing to it in such a way that our own conduct has no significance whatsoever. We need to endeavour to maintain as clear a conscience as we can. Our final destiny rests in the finished work of Christ and that deserves our full confidence, but there is also a place, in our daily living, for a due sense of confidence before God on the basis of our own integrity before him. Not a ‘final judgement’ confidence but a ‘walking with the Lord in honest fellowship’ kind of confidence.

If your response to this is still, ‘Whoah! That’s dangerous!’ then maybe you need to come up with some other way to deal with what is a consistent emphasis not simply in the Psalms but in the NT too.

Those who have been brought from death to life (Joy in the Journey)

As you offer yourself to the Lord each day, in worship and as a living sacrifice, how do you see yourself? What image comes to mind, what description would you use?

For some, the answer is pretty bleak: ‘Not much of any use here, Lord. It’s all pretty rubbish really - just a few leftover scraps, not enough to make anything of worth with. But, if you still want me, I’m yours. Not that it’ll make any difference to anyone.’

We need to deal with truth, not despairing falsehoods.

In Romans 6, Paul speaks about what is now true of the person who is in Christ. Encouraging his readers to not offer any part of themselves to serve sin any longer, he reminds them that they are now free to offer themselves to God “as those who have been brought from death to life”.

Here is the Easter reality for each and every Christian - not just the few, the elite who have their act together. No, this is true for all whose faith is in Jesus Christ, without any exception. United to him in his resurrection, the Spirit who raised him from the dead now lives in us.

This changes everything.

No longer are we slaves to sin, such that we are compelled to offer ourselves to it as instruments of wickedness. A sea-change has occurred - life, the life of God, has renewed us, heart and soul. Brought out of death, loosed from its malign design and its corrupting influences, we have been ushered into life in all its fulness.

What that means, says Paul, is that we are now free, each day, to offer every part of ourselves to the Lord as instruments of righteousness. The whole of me belongs to him and every last part of my being can be offered to him and to his righteous plan to renew all creation. My thoughts, words, deeds. My emotions and motivations. All that I hold, all that I measure and make. All that I once believed was broken and beyond repair can now be placed into his holy hands, offered in secure faith.

All this, Paul later says, is a response to God’s great mercies and is truly pleasing to him. He is glad, thrilled even, to receive us as we offer ourselves to him. A sacrifice that is sweet and acceptable to him. Our true and proper worship.

If you’re a Christian, this is who you now are and this is what lies open before you, each morning. A world of potential beckons, through the open doors of his grace. You are dead to sin and alive to God in Christ. No longer under the law but under grace, here is a liberty that is life-changing.

“Offer every part of yourself to him” - because you are his. Holy and accepted. Cherished, released and remade.

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

Jesus my Lord will love me forever,
From Him no power of evil can sever,
He gave His life to ransom my soul;
Now I belong to Him.

Once I was lost in sin's degradation,
Jesus came down to bring me salvation,
Lifted me up from sorrow and shame,
Now I belong to Him.

Joy floods my soul for Jesus has saved me,
Freed me from sin that long had enslaved me
His precious blood, He came to redeem,
Now I belong to Him

    Now I belong to Jesus,
    Jesus belongs to me,
    Not for the years of time alone,
    But for eternity.

(Norman J Clayton)

Afraid, yet filled with joy (Joy in the Journey)

Matthew tells us about fear at the empty tomb of Jesus - the guards who experience the earthquake and see an angel of the Lord come down and roll away the stone are “so afraid” that they appear to be as dead and as still as a stone.

But they aren’t the only ones who are afraid. The women who had come to anoint the body of the Lord with spices also see the angel and are told that the tomb is empty because “He is not here; he has risen.” Told to go and tell his disciples the news they “hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy”.

We can easily understand the guards’ reaction but why are the women afraid? (It’s the very same word that Matthew uses) What is it about the resurrection that could make anyone fearful? Isn’t it just the biggest collation of every dream you could ever have had, all rolled up into one huge ball of wonder? We can understand the joy but the fear, the terror? It seems entirely out of place.

It’s the same instinct that leads us to think that “fear of the Lord” is passé. That reaction needs correcting - because without this fear the joy will remain confined and insubstantial.

What the Lord has done in tackling sin and death and overcoming all the forces of evil and chaos is the largest demonstration there can have been of his supreme power and authority, and of the absolute commitment of his love to fallen, sin-sick humanity. We are not dealing with points of trivia but the training of the whole mind and will of God on the forces arrayed against us. Who could stand before such majesty and not tremble with awe?

In responding in fear to the edges of that work in the vacant tomb and the report of the resurrection, albeit by an angel, these faithful women are modelling for us a godliness that can only lead to deeper reserves of joy, for they are honouring the incomparable Lord of glory. Their fear is a holy terror that is neither inappropriate nor primitive; it is embracing the truth about God (and ourselves) and quaking at its magnitude.

Eugene Peterson reflects with acute perception on the fears reported by Matthew and helpfully distinguishes them: “There is a fear that incapacitates us for dealing with God, and there is a fear that pulls us out of our preoccupation with ourselves, our feelings, or our circumstances into a world of wonder. It pulls us out of ourselves into the very action of God.” (Living the Resurrection, p.71)

A fear that can lead us out of ourselves and our circumstances and into wonder and amazement is not to be shunned. Such fear is the ballast our joy needs, anchoring it in the astonishing works of God and the supreme reality of his eternal being.

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My God, how wonderful Thou art,

Thy majesty how bright!

How beautiful Thy mercy seat,

In depths of burning light!

How dread are Thine eternal years,

O everlasting Lord,

By prostrate spirits day and night

Incessantly adored!

How wonderful, how beautiful,

The sight of Thee must be,

Thine endless wisdom, boundless power,

And aweful purity!

O how I fear Thee, living God,

With deepest, tenderest fears,

And worship Thee with trembling hope

And penitential tears!

Yet I may love Thee too, O Lord,

Almighty as Thou art;

For Thou hast stooped to ask of me

The love of my poor heart.

No earthly father loves like Thee;

No mother e'er so mild,

Bears and forbears as Thou hast done

With me, Thy sinful child.

Father of Jesus, love's reward,

What rapture will it be

Prostrate before Thy throne to lie,

And ever gaze on Thee!

(Frederick William Faber, 1814-63)

"I've seen the Lord!" (Easter sermon)

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was formless and void and darkness was over the surface of the deep.” It was chaotic and empty of meaning.

And when he began the work of new creation, early in the morning on the first day of the week, it was dark and it was chaotic. People were coming and going - first the women, then Peter and John, then Mary once more.

There’s lots of confusion.

But, in this new creation work of God, what was empty - the tomb in which the body of the Lord had been laid - now begins to give everything meaning. He would be the Light that would give life and meaning and shape and hope to human lives.

I’d like us to see how that happens for Mary but before we get to that it would be good to pause for a few moments and try to take in something of the chaos at the tomb.

Mary (and the other women that John doesn’t mention) see that the tomb is empty. They have come to anoint the body of their Lord, to treat with final dignity what had been so callously brutalised.

But the body isn’t there. Mary believes it must have been stolen so she heads back to the other disciples in anguish of heart. Which brings Peter and John onto the scene. Having heard that the tomb is open and empty, they head there.

John outruns Peter (I’m sure he never let him forget that) but he doesn’t go into the tomb - he pauses, trying to take it in. Peter, so different to John, arrives and goes right in. He notices how things are arranged (incidentally, body-snatchers wouldn’t bother unwrapping the body and leaving the cloths neatly folded).

This is all a puzzle to Peter - you can picture him trying to make sense of it.

Then John does go in and something clicks for him. “He saw and believed.” Not full-blown belief yet, but the first beginning of settled, certain faith in the resurrection of Jesus from the dead.

Different folks and different strokes:

• Mary, awash with grief at the seeming theft of his body.
• Peter, eager to see, trying to take it all in but not coming up with much at first.
• And John, cautious, thoughtful and the first stirring of faith in a resurrected Messiah.

Is that a picture of us, too?

• Tears are plentiful because life has been so hard. Some grieving because we’ve lost those who meant so much to us.
• Others can see some of the details of the Jesus story but aren’t too sure what to make of it.
• And others still, following in John’s footsteps, are beginning to believe that Jesus is alive and that death has been conquered.

Easter Sunday: we’re in the story. Somewhere.

That story has within it the power and the glory to move us from tearful confusion, from bitter anguish, to the clearest faith and the fullest joy.

And that’s what Mary’s story offers us.

1. For Mary, the empty tomb doesn’t speak for itself.
Grief is like a powerful distortion field. It blurs everything and dials down our ability to make sense of what’s before us.

In Star Trek and Star Wars, the spacecraft have force fields to protect them from harm. But our grief often acts to keep us from any relief, from any semblance of what might make life worthwhile.

Mary simply can’t begin to put two and two together. Death is too final for that. She isn’t persuaded by the sight of angels in the tomb. Does she even realise that they’re angels?

And when she turns around and sees Jesus standing there, she sees but doesn’t see, doesn’t realise who he is.

Grief can do that to us. The sorrows of life, the struggles and the pain - they all work against us from recognising the one true God and his presence in our lives.

We need Jesus to do something, to say something, to bring us back from the darkest places.

And he does.

2. My sheep know my voice - I call them by name
The Lord asks her why she’s crying (as the angels did) but then adds “Who is it you’re looking for?”

It might seem callous to do so but he knows what he’s doing. He always does, with you and me, too. Jesus never wastes words, never exploits our weakness and vulnerability. That’s not who he is. He knows what he’s doing, we can trust that.

And that’s clear here. Mary hears his voice but doesn’t recognise whose it is. But when Jesus speaks her name the lights go on immediately.

There’s something extra here now!

Once she realises this is her Lord, once the sound of voice calling her name enters her ears, Mary’s doubts and confusion, her endless sorrows cease.

She calls out “Rabboni” - My Teacher!

O the joy, the gladness, the sheer exuberance of that moment! It will never, ever, be forgotten.

Do you remember that scene in The Railway Children where Roberta (Jenny Agutter) sees her father on the railway platform after the smoke has cleared?

She cries out as she runs to him, “Daddy! My daddy!” He’s not lost, he’s not dead. He’s back with them, She wants him back for good and he is.

Well, if you do remember that scene and it brings a tear to your eye - I’m sure it does - then Mary at the feet of her Lord will not fail to do so too.

Because this is not fiction; this is real lives rescued from death; this is the true Lord of all, coming back from the depths of the grave, to rescue and save and give hope that is deeper than our griefs.

Interestingly, it’s when he says her name that she recognises him. Through her tears - and because in resurrection he’s recognisable but different - she hadn’t been able to make him out.

But when he speaks her name the clouds clear and her heart breaks with joy. It’s him! It’s Christ her Lord, risen. The mighty conqueror. It’s his glorious voice that calls her.

Earlier in John, Jesus spoke about “the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep”. He said the shepherd “calls his own sheep by name and leads them out” and “his sheep follow him because they know his voice.”

This is being acted out for us here in the lived experience of Mary.

And it’s something we can know, too. Our names being spoken by the risen Lord Jesus.

Not audibly but deeply into our souls, in moments like these. He calls to us, in the tears of our grief and unbelief, in the trauma of life in a world of death, in the pain and confusion that we can’t seem break free from.

He calls your name - calls you to believe, to receive from him the greatest gift ever offered:

• the living presence of God
• the clearing of all your guilt
• the remaking of your heart
• the re-framing of your whole future, your ultimate destiny.

3. You can’t stay here, Mary
Mary tries to cling to him - to keep him there. ‘No way am I letting you out of my sight ever again!’ ‘But Mary, there’s more to come. I’m going back to my Father - to your Father - and the world needs to know what you now know. So go to my brothers…’

When you first come to know Jesus there’s an understandable longing to stay at that point. You’re seeing and feeling and knowing things about the one true God for the very first time.

Those are special days indeed.

But they have to give way because he has a larger purpose for you. The picture is far bigger than you ever imagined. There is enough joy here to wrap its arms around the whole world. It needs to be shared.

******

Where do we leave Mary? Back with the disciples and excitedly saying the most stunning words that ever came from her lips: “I have seen the Lord!”

What beautiful assurance this is!

Can anything else really matter now, in a determinative sense? Can anything change this great reality?

She has seen the Lord. And if you have believed in Jesus, then you have seen the Lord, too - not physically but truly. Seen his love, tasted his goodness, been folded into his eternal joy.

Is that your Easter experience? That the risen Lord Jesus, in all his glory, has called your name and wiped your tears? Planted you into a bigger picture with a part to play, sharing this great news?

If this isn’t yet the story of your life but you long that it might be, then ask him to meet you, in your confusion and sorrow, in your sin and failure.

Ask him to call your name and to breathe new life into your heart.

"He can't save himself!" (Joy in the Journey)

“He saved others but he can’t save himself!” It was an insult hurled at a dying man, hung between two criminals. A man who had healed the sick and raised the dead, who had forgiven sins and restored people into life with God. A man who had multiplied fish and bread and fed multitudes, who had walked the waves and stilled the storm. And now he was nailed to a tree.

‘Yes, he saved others, but just look at him - utterly helpless, a pathetic and powerless sight. A worm of a man. If he was to come down now, from the throes of death, we’d be sure to believe in him. But he can’t. He’s a fake and he’s history.’

If there was anything Jesus was still capable of as he hung there it was to save himself. He lacked no power, no status - however hidden those might be from his tormentors. One word from his lips and legions of angels would be deployed to release him. His abusers have got it badly wrong.

His remaining on the cross is not because of any inability on his part; it is entirely due to his determination to provide the one true sacrifice for sins and rescue multitudes from death. It is love that holds him there, not limitation. He endures the cross, despising its shame, that he might enter the joy that was set before him - the limitless joy of honouring his Father and saving his fallen creation.

When it comes to interpreting the ways of God and the truth before our eyes, fallen and sinful humanity are at a distinct disadvantage. “It was for us he hung and suffered there”, not because of any lack in himself.

And those who got that wrong continued to err. They add, “He trusts in God. Let God rescue him now if he wants him.” Rescued he will be; and wanted he most certainly is - loved eternally by his Father! And so the Father will raise him to life, not allowing his Holy One to see decay. But it will be after all is finished and salvation achieved. It will be when death has been overcome and Satan defeated, when the barrier to life has been lifted and the prisoners' chains loosed.

Good Friday demands a different perspective, a renewed sight, a clarified vision. Its treasures are not discerned except by divine illumination. To unaided human reason it is simply a tragedy that could have been avoided if compromise had been sought, but now there was no way back. But when, by the Spirit’s energies our inner eyes are opened and our hearts humbled, the scene before us is transformed.

We see, then, that this is no avoidable tragedy, nor is it violent human might proving itself right. Here, rather, is love vast as the ocean, loving-kindness as the flood - the Prince of Life laying down his life as a ransom for us, the just for the unjust, to bring us back to God.

That Spirit-given sight can dissolve our hearts in thankfulness and melt our eyes to tears - tears of deepest, wondering joy.

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

Alas! and did my Saviour bleed

And did my Sovereign die?

Would He devote that sacred head

For such a worm as I?

Was it for crimes that I had done,

He groaned upon the tree?

Amazing pity! grace unknown!

And love beyond degree!

Well might the sun in darkness hide,

And shut its glories in,

When God, the mighty Maker, died

For man, the creature's sin.

Thus might I hide my blushing face

While His dear cross appears;

Dissolve my heart in thankfulness,

And melt my eyes to tears.

But drops of grief can ne'er repay

The debt of love I owe:

Here, Lord, I give myself away;

'Tis all that I can do.

(Isaac Watts, 1674-1748)