to effective evangelism according to the prayer of Jesus are not so much outdated methods, or inadequate presentations of the gospel, as realities like gossip, insensitivity, negative criticism, jealousy, backbiting, an unforgiving spirit, a 'root of bitterness', failure to appreciate others, self-preoccupation, greed, selfishness and every other form of lovelessness. These are the squalid enemies of effective evangelism which render the gospel fruitless and send countless thousands into eternity without a Saviour. 'The glorious gospel of the blessed God', which is committed to our trust, is being openly contradicted and veiled by the sinful relationships within the community which is commissioned to communicate it. We need look no further to understand why the church's impact on the community is frequently so minimal in spite of the greatness of our message. We are fighting with only one hand!
(Bruce Milne, The Message of John, IVP, pp.250,251)
Wednesday, 25 January 2006
Thursday, 12 January 2006
The Church as Ordinary
Extracts from Against Christianity by Peter J. Leithart (Canon Press, 2003, pp.16-18)
Christian community...is not an extra "religious" layer on social life. The Church is not a club for religious people. The Church is a way of living together before God, a new way of being human together. What Jesus and the apostles proclaimed was not a new ideology or a new religion, in our attenuated modern sense. What they proclaimed was salvation, and that meant a new human world, a new social and political reality.
They proclaimed that God had established the eschatological order of human life in the midst of history, not perfectly but truly. The Church anticipates the form of the human race as it will be when it comes to maturity; she is the "already" of the new humanity that will be perfected in the "not yet" of the last day. Conversion thus means turning from one way of life, one culture, to another. Conversion is the beginning of a "resocialization," induction into an alternative paideia, and "inculturation" into the way of life practiced by the eschatological humanity.
In the New Testament, we do not find an essentially private gospel being applied to the public sphere, as if the public implications of the gospel were a second story built on the private ground floor. The gospel is the announcement of the Father's formation through His Son and the Spirit, of a new city the city of God...
We have made the Church strange and alien to the world, as if she were of a completely different order than the institutions of common social and political life. Paradoxically, the result of this estrangement has been to reshape the Church into the image of the world.
The Church is strange: she is the creation of the Father through Word and Spirit, the community of those who have been united by the Spirit with the Son, and therefore brought into the eternal community of the Trinity. She is a city whose town square is in heaven. She is a city without walls or boundary lines, a polity without sword or shield. Of no other society can that be said.
But she is ordinary: the Church is made up of human beings, with features that identify her as a culture among the cultures of the world. God did not enter a world of books with blurks; He did not intervene in a world of rituals and meals with spatuals and gleals; He did not call His people to live according to specific quormal principles or to promote a particular uphos.
Rather, God created a world of stories, symbols, rituals, and community rules. Into this world of stories, God introduced a rival story; into a world of books, God came with His own library; in a world of symbols and rituals and sacrificial meals, the Church was organized by a ritual bath and a feast of bread and wine; in the midst of cultures with their own ethos and moral atmosphere, God gathered a community to produce the aroma of Christ in their life together.
Only by insisting on the Church's ordinariness can we simultaneously grasp her strangeness.
The Church can cut across the grain of existing human social and cultural life only if she bears some likeness to existing societies. If she is a completely different sort of thing, then societies and nations and empires can go on their merry way ignoring the Church, or, equally deadly, find some murky alleyway to push her into.
But if the Church is God's society among human societies, a heavenly city invading the earthly city, then a territorial conflict is inevitable...
Christian community...is not an extra "religious" layer on social life. The Church is not a club for religious people. The Church is a way of living together before God, a new way of being human together. What Jesus and the apostles proclaimed was not a new ideology or a new religion, in our attenuated modern sense. What they proclaimed was salvation, and that meant a new human world, a new social and political reality.
They proclaimed that God had established the eschatological order of human life in the midst of history, not perfectly but truly. The Church anticipates the form of the human race as it will be when it comes to maturity; she is the "already" of the new humanity that will be perfected in the "not yet" of the last day. Conversion thus means turning from one way of life, one culture, to another. Conversion is the beginning of a "resocialization," induction into an alternative paideia, and "inculturation" into the way of life practiced by the eschatological humanity.
In the New Testament, we do not find an essentially private gospel being applied to the public sphere, as if the public implications of the gospel were a second story built on the private ground floor. The gospel is the announcement of the Father's formation through His Son and the Spirit, of a new city the city of God...
We have made the Church strange and alien to the world, as if she were of a completely different order than the institutions of common social and political life. Paradoxically, the result of this estrangement has been to reshape the Church into the image of the world.
The Church is strange: she is the creation of the Father through Word and Spirit, the community of those who have been united by the Spirit with the Son, and therefore brought into the eternal community of the Trinity. She is a city whose town square is in heaven. She is a city without walls or boundary lines, a polity without sword or shield. Of no other society can that be said.
But she is ordinary: the Church is made up of human beings, with features that identify her as a culture among the cultures of the world. God did not enter a world of books with blurks; He did not intervene in a world of rituals and meals with spatuals and gleals; He did not call His people to live according to specific quormal principles or to promote a particular uphos.
Rather, God created a world of stories, symbols, rituals, and community rules. Into this world of stories, God introduced a rival story; into a world of books, God came with His own library; in a world of symbols and rituals and sacrificial meals, the Church was organized by a ritual bath and a feast of bread and wine; in the midst of cultures with their own ethos and moral atmosphere, God gathered a community to produce the aroma of Christ in their life together.
Only by insisting on the Church's ordinariness can we simultaneously grasp her strangeness.
The Church can cut across the grain of existing human social and cultural life only if she bears some likeness to existing societies. If she is a completely different sort of thing, then societies and nations and empires can go on their merry way ignoring the Church, or, equally deadly, find some murky alleyway to push her into.
But if the Church is God's society among human societies, a heavenly city invading the earthly city, then a territorial conflict is inevitable...
Sunday, 8 January 2006
The Ultimate Detox
Mark 7:14-30
Again Jesus called the crowd to him and said, "Listen to me, everyone, and understand this. Nothing outside you can defile you by going into you. Rather, it is what comes out of you that defiles you."
After he had left the crowd and entered the house, his disciples asked him about this parable. "Are you so dull?" he asked. "Don't you see that nothing that enters you from the outside can defile you? For it doesn't go into your heart but into your stomach, and then out of your body." (In saying this, Jesus declared all foods clean.)
He went on: "What comes out of you is what defiles you. For from within, out of your hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. All these evils come from inside and defile you."
Jesus left that place and went to the vicinity of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know it; yet he could not keep his presence secret. In fact, as soon as she heard about him, a woman whose little daughter was possessed by an unclean spirit came and fell at his feet. The woman was a Greek, born in Syrian Phoenicia. She begged Jesus to drive the demon out of her daughter.
"First let the children eat all they want," he told her, "for it is not right to take the children's bread and toss it to the dogs."
"Lord," she replied, "even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs."
Then he told her, "For such a reply, you may go; the demon has left your daughter."
She went home and found her child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.
(TNIV)
Again Jesus called the crowd to him and said, "Listen to me, everyone, and understand this. Nothing outside you can defile you by going into you. Rather, it is what comes out of you that defiles you."
After he had left the crowd and entered the house, his disciples asked him about this parable. "Are you so dull?" he asked. "Don't you see that nothing that enters you from the outside can defile you? For it doesn't go into your heart but into your stomach, and then out of your body." (In saying this, Jesus declared all foods clean.)
He went on: "What comes out of you is what defiles you. For from within, out of your hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. All these evils come from inside and defile you."
Jesus left that place and went to the vicinity of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know it; yet he could not keep his presence secret. In fact, as soon as she heard about him, a woman whose little daughter was possessed by an unclean spirit came and fell at his feet. The woman was a Greek, born in Syrian Phoenicia. She begged Jesus to drive the demon out of her daughter.
"First let the children eat all they want," he told her, "for it is not right to take the children's bread and toss it to the dogs."
"Lord," she replied, "even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs."
Then he told her, "For such a reply, you may go; the demon has left your daughter."
She went home and found her child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.
(TNIV)
Friday, 6 January 2006
Why Jesus wants his people to be sanctified
It would seem an obvious point: Jesus wants his people to be sanctified, to be holy. Yes, quite so. In fact, he prays for just that in his great prayer in John 17:
But what does Jesus have in mind?
He links the setting apart (sanctification) of his disciples with his own act of being set apart. So he made himself holy so that we too could be holy? I think the emphasis in these verses is working in a slightly different direction. Jesus set himself apart for the work of God in order to see people redeemed and reconciled to God. And he expressly states here that just as he had been sent into the world by the Father on that mission and responded by sanctifying himself, so too he is sending them into the world.
So why is Jesus praying that his people be set apart for God? In order that they might be enabled and equipped to fulfil their calling to go into all the world with the good news. Set apart and sent out; that's us.
And notice too the crucial role played by God's Word in that whole process. What is the work that scripture is to do in our lives? To make us more like Jesus? Yes, but not simply in terms of moral rectitude, integrity of character and so forth; rather, along with those, to be more like Jesus in our commitment to, and sacrificial outworking of, the great mission of God.
If Jesus prayed for that, it would be good if we did too.
Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world. For them I sanctify myself, that they too may be truly sanctified. (John 17:17-19;TNIV)
But what does Jesus have in mind?
He links the setting apart (sanctification) of his disciples with his own act of being set apart. So he made himself holy so that we too could be holy? I think the emphasis in these verses is working in a slightly different direction. Jesus set himself apart for the work of God in order to see people redeemed and reconciled to God. And he expressly states here that just as he had been sent into the world by the Father on that mission and responded by sanctifying himself, so too he is sending them into the world.
So why is Jesus praying that his people be set apart for God? In order that they might be enabled and equipped to fulfil their calling to go into all the world with the good news. Set apart and sent out; that's us.
And notice too the crucial role played by God's Word in that whole process. What is the work that scripture is to do in our lives? To make us more like Jesus? Yes, but not simply in terms of moral rectitude, integrity of character and so forth; rather, along with those, to be more like Jesus in our commitment to, and sacrificial outworking of, the great mission of God.
If Jesus prayed for that, it would be good if we did too.
Thursday, 5 January 2006
indeed
if nothing else by Over The Rhine
i'm so tired in the mornings
i try to go back
i try to remember
the light appearing
without warning
tying up my hands
like i'm good for nothing
if nothing else i can dream
i can dream
i'll never tell never tell
all i've seen
right in front of me
like the ghost of every thing that i could be
for the night sky is an ocean
black distant sea
washing up to my window
all the stray dog night owl junkies
orphans vagabonds
angels who lost their halos
if nothing else i can dream
i can dream
i'll never tell never tell
all i've seen
right in front of me,
like the ghost of every thing that i could be
in the cool and callous grip of reality
words in my head
like misfits after midnight
begging for a light
words left unsaid
they may never see the light of day
and that may be okay
if nothing else i can dream
i'm so tired in the mornings
i try to go back
i try to remember
the light appearing
without warning
tying up my hands
like i'm good for nothing
if nothing else i can dream
i can dream
i'll never tell never tell
all i've seen
right in front of me
like the ghost of every thing that i could be
for the night sky is an ocean
black distant sea
washing up to my window
all the stray dog night owl junkies
orphans vagabonds
angels who lost their halos
if nothing else i can dream
i can dream
i'll never tell never tell
all i've seen
right in front of me,
like the ghost of every thing that i could be
in the cool and callous grip of reality
words in my head
like misfits after midnight
begging for a light
words left unsaid
they may never see the light of day
and that may be okay
if nothing else i can dream
There are times
...when time has a way of catching-up on you, dropping hints that cannot aspire to subtlety, affirming what you suspected all along but were too scared to admit and too fragile to admire. Catch your breath, boy, this train is ready to leave.
Friday, 23 December 2005
just wondering
...if there is any connection between the triple-groaning of Romans 8 (creation; Christians; the Spirit) and the pains of childbearing of Genesis 3:16? If there was, maybe one could throw 1 Timothy 2:15 into the mix too. Clearly a job for someone more capable than me!
Wednesday, 21 December 2005
Days
These are the days
you never saw;
sun rises, sun sets
just as before,
but you have been laid
to rest,
never to rise
in a morning of time,
never to set
when a day is done.
These are the days
we never thought
you would
never
see.
In Memoriam: George Myerscough
(20th January 1920 - 30th November 2005)
Sunday, 18 December 2005
Behind the question
In Luke 13:1-5, Jesus tells of two recent events in which people have suffered - first at the hands of murderous Pilate, secondly in the collapse of a tower in Siloam. In speaking of those events, Jesus asks the question, Were those who died worse sinners than other people?
There is an assumption behind the question that is clearly shared by both Jesus and his hearers: God is somehow involved in both situations, for the question of judgement revolves around him. Jesus knew, and his contemporaries knew, that judgement rests in the hand of God alone. If these acts were by way of judgement (and the text begs the response 'yes, in some way'), then God is involved.
The key issue for Jesus' hearers, made plain by Jesus himself, is whether they will learn and repent. It is the same issue that arises in Rev. 9:20f.
The same issues are not absent from life in this world today.
There is an assumption behind the question that is clearly shared by both Jesus and his hearers: God is somehow involved in both situations, for the question of judgement revolves around him. Jesus knew, and his contemporaries knew, that judgement rests in the hand of God alone. If these acts were by way of judgement (and the text begs the response 'yes, in some way'), then God is involved.
The key issue for Jesus' hearers, made plain by Jesus himself, is whether they will learn and repent. It is the same issue that arises in Rev. 9:20f.
The same issues are not absent from life in this world today.
Tuesday, 6 December 2005
Wright on...
"If Jesus is...the lens through which you glimpse the beauty of God, you will discover what it means to worship, because you will discover what it means to be loved." Tom Wright, For All God's Worth, p.10
Esteeming our friends
Sometimes it can be hard for missionaries and other Christian workers to speak about their work because they fear being 'put on a pedestal', albeit unwittingly. People can speak about them in such glowing terms - "I could never do what you do!"; "You've given so much to the Lord" - that they feel slightly embarrassed, because their own estimate of themselves and their work is far more realistic. They know that, at the end of the day, whatever they have given to the Lord, they are, at best, 'unprofitable servants'. They are conscious that so much more could have been done and done better.
This can easily lead to another problem, however. Knowing that commending someone for their service may embarrass them or, worse still, may puff them up with pride, nothing is said at all. That can leave a person feeling discouraged, taken for granted and unvalued.
Is there a better way? Reading the New Testament, it seems there must be, because there we find people being commended for their service in a way that is open and natural. Just look for example at Romans 16 where Paul mentions a whole host of individuals, many of whom would no doubt have been present when the letter was read to the church: "Mary...worked very hard for you; Andronicus and Junius...are outstanding among the apostles; Apelles, tested and approved in Christ".
From those examples, it's quite clear that to commend others we don't need to become skilled diplomats, able to find just the right form of words to cover every angle. You know the sort of thing, 'Thank you for what you've done...I mean, what the Lord has done through you'. It doesn't read like that, does it? Paul just says what he thinks, with warmth and honesty. He's not in the business of flattery but is simply acknowledging what is good and blessed.
How could he and others be so straightforward? We seem at times to be very different, with so many hang-ups! Maybe it was because they were resting in a relationship with the Lord which was patently secure because it was so obviously based on his grace alone. When Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 15:10 of his having "worked harder than all" the other apostles, it could seem as though he was boasting. Rather, he's simply making an honest assessment, yet without any pride on his part for he immediately adds "Yet not I but the grace of God that was with me".
When we grasp that we are loved by God not because of who we are or what we do but simply because of his grace, then we are freed to serve him and others without being hungry for praise that will dispel our insecurity and compensate for a lack of assurance. And within the security of God's love we discover how to praise others too, esteeming them highly in the Lord and valuing what they do for him. Our words of thanks and praise will neither embarrass nor exalt because they will carry the savour of the amazing grace of God.
This can easily lead to another problem, however. Knowing that commending someone for their service may embarrass them or, worse still, may puff them up with pride, nothing is said at all. That can leave a person feeling discouraged, taken for granted and unvalued.
Is there a better way? Reading the New Testament, it seems there must be, because there we find people being commended for their service in a way that is open and natural. Just look for example at Romans 16 where Paul mentions a whole host of individuals, many of whom would no doubt have been present when the letter was read to the church: "Mary...worked very hard for you; Andronicus and Junius...are outstanding among the apostles; Apelles, tested and approved in Christ".
From those examples, it's quite clear that to commend others we don't need to become skilled diplomats, able to find just the right form of words to cover every angle. You know the sort of thing, 'Thank you for what you've done...I mean, what the Lord has done through you'. It doesn't read like that, does it? Paul just says what he thinks, with warmth and honesty. He's not in the business of flattery but is simply acknowledging what is good and blessed.
How could he and others be so straightforward? We seem at times to be very different, with so many hang-ups! Maybe it was because they were resting in a relationship with the Lord which was patently secure because it was so obviously based on his grace alone. When Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 15:10 of his having "worked harder than all" the other apostles, it could seem as though he was boasting. Rather, he's simply making an honest assessment, yet without any pride on his part for he immediately adds "Yet not I but the grace of God that was with me".
When we grasp that we are loved by God not because of who we are or what we do but simply because of his grace, then we are freed to serve him and others without being hungry for praise that will dispel our insecurity and compensate for a lack of assurance. And within the security of God's love we discover how to praise others too, esteeming them highly in the Lord and valuing what they do for him. Our words of thanks and praise will neither embarrass nor exalt because they will carry the savour of the amazing grace of God.
More Jonah
Jonah. Somehow he seems to have ended up a bit of a hero but in truth he was much more a villain. Called to preach a message of judgement, he ran for cover - not out of cowardice but out of callousness. He wasn't scared by what the Ninevites might do to him but by what they might do with God's Word - believe it, repent and live. So he did a bunk.
We know the story very well. Jonah, the once-faithful prophet runs at the sound of God's voice and manages to sleep soundly when that same voice booms in the storm at sea. Hardened in his sin, he is even shown up by pagan sailors who have more sense of God than he seems to have. Finally, he owns up to his sin and is cast overboard. Chased and chastened.
It seems like he learns his lesson. Inside the great fish, sent by God not to punish but to deliver him, he prays with a full heart, acknowledging that "salvation comes from the Lord". And when he lands on shore, he responds with obedience when God's Word comes to him a second time and makes his way to Nineveh. Maybe he's not such a bad guy after all.
But wait. The job's not done yet. He goes to Nineveh, speaks God's Word and, instead of having him for dinner, they proclaim a fast and repent of their sins. A cause for great rejoicing - but not for this still-wayward prophet. He was where he should be in terms of geography but he is still miles away in terms of compassion and mercy. Instead he is wrapped up in his own small world of bitter complaint and anger against God. A real villain - still.
But are we really that different? Maybe not. We too easily run, too quickly argue, too often sulk. We may pray for opportunities to witness but are we really looking for them? Do we marginalise some people as being somehow unworthy of the gospel because of their blatant sin? Are we expecting the Lord to march to our tune instead of being captive to his will and purpose? I hang my head.
The book ends without really ending - and that is entirely intentional. How did he respond to the Lord's last word to him, which so powerfully disclosed the Lord's merciful heart? We aren't told. The really crucial thing now is not Jonah but us, the readers, us, the church. The book challenges our complacency, our bigotry, our lack of genuine love. "Look at the world, pleads the author, at God's world. See it through God's eyes. And let your new vision overcome your natural bitterness, your hardness of soul. Let the divine compassion flood your own hearts." (Leslie Allen)
We know the story very well. Jonah, the once-faithful prophet runs at the sound of God's voice and manages to sleep soundly when that same voice booms in the storm at sea. Hardened in his sin, he is even shown up by pagan sailors who have more sense of God than he seems to have. Finally, he owns up to his sin and is cast overboard. Chased and chastened.
It seems like he learns his lesson. Inside the great fish, sent by God not to punish but to deliver him, he prays with a full heart, acknowledging that "salvation comes from the Lord". And when he lands on shore, he responds with obedience when God's Word comes to him a second time and makes his way to Nineveh. Maybe he's not such a bad guy after all.
But wait. The job's not done yet. He goes to Nineveh, speaks God's Word and, instead of having him for dinner, they proclaim a fast and repent of their sins. A cause for great rejoicing - but not for this still-wayward prophet. He was where he should be in terms of geography but he is still miles away in terms of compassion and mercy. Instead he is wrapped up in his own small world of bitter complaint and anger against God. A real villain - still.
But are we really that different? Maybe not. We too easily run, too quickly argue, too often sulk. We may pray for opportunities to witness but are we really looking for them? Do we marginalise some people as being somehow unworthy of the gospel because of their blatant sin? Are we expecting the Lord to march to our tune instead of being captive to his will and purpose? I hang my head.
The book ends without really ending - and that is entirely intentional. How did he respond to the Lord's last word to him, which so powerfully disclosed the Lord's merciful heart? We aren't told. The really crucial thing now is not Jonah but us, the readers, us, the church. The book challenges our complacency, our bigotry, our lack of genuine love. "Look at the world, pleads the author, at God's world. See it through God's eyes. And let your new vision overcome your natural bitterness, your hardness of soul. Let the divine compassion flood your own hearts." (Leslie Allen)
Monday, 5 December 2005
Gone fishin'
It’s a striking scene – a miraculous catch of fish is followed by an unequivocal call: “Follow me and I will make you fishers of men” (Mt. 4:18-22; cf. Luke 5:1-11). Of course, there are aspects of the calling of the 12 disciples that are unique to them – in their role as authoritative eye-witnesses of the life and teaching of Jesus and his death, resurrection and ascension, they would have no successors. But it is also true that every disciple can learn much from this deeply moving scene.
The call to follow is entirely gracious. In Luke’s account, Simon Peter is acutely conscious of his sin and shame – he is so utterly unworthy of the One who stands before him. Yet the One before whom he bows speaks words which comfort, “Don’t be afraid”, and words which commission, “From now on you will catch men”. Being conscious of our sin and of the many ways in which we have failed our Lord and are still so unlike him does not disqualify us from following him. He speaks to dispel our fear and to call us into fresh service in his name.
The order here is interesting – it was in following that they were to become. They were to follow Jesus and learn from him. They needed to stay close and hang on his every word; they needed to make sure they paid the closest attention as they witnessed the powerful in-breaking of the Kingdom of God and were caught up in its progress. But whilst the responsibility to follow closely rests with the one called, the formation of that person is in the hands of the one who calls: “I will make you…”.
There is set in motion here a process that would lead into genuine maturity under the tutelage of the Saviour. But their discipleship was not simply an end in itself. Jesus calls them so that they might call others; he would make them able to disciple others, to be “fishers of men”. From the calling of Abraham onwards, through the election of Israel, the call of God was never simply for the sake of the one called but for the sake of the nations. The same is true of the church; Jesus said, “I have chosen you and appointed you to go and bear much fruit” (Jn. 15:16) – not simply the fruit of renewed lives but seeing the gospel reach and renew others too.
Discipleship is never simply about the maturing of individuals in isolation from the great task of mission. Rather, it is with mission as integral and essential, and at the very core of what it means to be a disciple.
And the call to follow and to become was given and heard in the context of an ordinary day, in the midst of ordinary lives. No doubt mission gatherings and conferences play a part in focussing thoughts and prayers and have often been used by the Lord to awaken a fresh sense of call. But we should also expect to become aware of the Lord calling us, and experience his forming of us, in the everyday events of life.
In that context, Jesus’ choice of metaphors here is interesting. In the New Testament, a whole variety of images are used to describe gospel workers – athletes, farmers, builders, shepherds, soldiers, parents, ambassadors; the list is very extensive. Here, Jesus calls fishermen to become…fishermen. What they had been would be taken up and become a part of what they would be. And still today he takes us where we are, as we are, in order to form and use us for his glory in the lives of others as we obey his call to follow him. Could anything be more thrilling?
The call to follow is entirely gracious. In Luke’s account, Simon Peter is acutely conscious of his sin and shame – he is so utterly unworthy of the One who stands before him. Yet the One before whom he bows speaks words which comfort, “Don’t be afraid”, and words which commission, “From now on you will catch men”. Being conscious of our sin and of the many ways in which we have failed our Lord and are still so unlike him does not disqualify us from following him. He speaks to dispel our fear and to call us into fresh service in his name.
The order here is interesting – it was in following that they were to become. They were to follow Jesus and learn from him. They needed to stay close and hang on his every word; they needed to make sure they paid the closest attention as they witnessed the powerful in-breaking of the Kingdom of God and were caught up in its progress. But whilst the responsibility to follow closely rests with the one called, the formation of that person is in the hands of the one who calls: “I will make you…”.
There is set in motion here a process that would lead into genuine maturity under the tutelage of the Saviour. But their discipleship was not simply an end in itself. Jesus calls them so that they might call others; he would make them able to disciple others, to be “fishers of men”. From the calling of Abraham onwards, through the election of Israel, the call of God was never simply for the sake of the one called but for the sake of the nations. The same is true of the church; Jesus said, “I have chosen you and appointed you to go and bear much fruit” (Jn. 15:16) – not simply the fruit of renewed lives but seeing the gospel reach and renew others too.
Discipleship is never simply about the maturing of individuals in isolation from the great task of mission. Rather, it is with mission as integral and essential, and at the very core of what it means to be a disciple.
And the call to follow and to become was given and heard in the context of an ordinary day, in the midst of ordinary lives. No doubt mission gatherings and conferences play a part in focussing thoughts and prayers and have often been used by the Lord to awaken a fresh sense of call. But we should also expect to become aware of the Lord calling us, and experience his forming of us, in the everyday events of life.
In that context, Jesus’ choice of metaphors here is interesting. In the New Testament, a whole variety of images are used to describe gospel workers – athletes, farmers, builders, shepherds, soldiers, parents, ambassadors; the list is very extensive. Here, Jesus calls fishermen to become…fishermen. What they had been would be taken up and become a part of what they would be. And still today he takes us where we are, as we are, in order to form and use us for his glory in the lives of others as we obey his call to follow him. Could anything be more thrilling?
Sunday, 4 December 2005
How the Gospel helps us to Plan and Pray (Romans 15:23-33)
1. Planning
Studded throughout Paul’s letters are indications of the plans he made regarding his gospel work. The details he records are very interesting, not least because they show the impact the gospel has on our planning.
i) Practical – Hoping for their help when on his way to Spain; on his way to Jerusalem with monetary help from Macedonia and Achaia. Both are very practical details; the finer details do matter and there is a time & a place to sort then out (nb: seems Paul had no qualms in asking for material help, both for others and himself).
But notice that these practical details are determined by the gospel itself. It is because there is a message to share that Paul needs to be helped on his way; it is because the gospel creates a new family of God and unites Jew and Gentile that there needs to be practical and genuine expression of that new unity.
ii) Purposeful – Paul’s plans are very purposeful: he knows where he wants to go and why – “there is no more place for me to work in these regions”. Couldn’t he have found a pastorate somewhere and settled down? Of course! But his purpose is to extend the work, not to settle down.
Some (many?) must settle into a longer-term pattern of ministry but our mentality (whatever our particular Christian service might be) must always be expansive, because the gospel demands it, the very character and heart of God demands it. And if our mentality is expansive, it will, of necessity, affect our planning.
2. Praying
But if the gospel affects and determines our planning, the same is true about our praying. Planning and praying are to go hand in hand, whatever our temperament may be, and both are entailments of the gospel itself. The same gospel that impels us to plan also impels us to pray.
i) Joining the struggle – Paul here describes such prayer as joining with him in his struggle. We may find prayer hard and there may be many reasons for that but part of the reason is that it is a sharing in the reality of the spiritual warfare that is at the heart of the gospel. When the gospel is preached and lived, a cosmic struggle is joined. We may – we will – find it hard going but the call is to join the struggle.
ii) Two-fold struggle – But what is noticeable here is that the struggle operates on two fronts. Paul asks for prayer that he will be rescued from unbelievers; a quite natural request and a very realistic one, since wherever he went Paul encountered trouble.
That’s the nature of the gospel and the battle we’re involved in. The world as a whole is not ambivalent to the gospel; it is hostile to it, since the natural mind is hostile to God. The need for the same prayer still exists today; the struggle hasn’t changed.
But the second area of struggle is less expected yet still as much in need of prayer. Paul asks that his service will be acceptable to the saints in Jerusalem. The reasons aren’t hard to work out – such a gift, from Gentiles to Jews, might offend some people’s sensibilities and some proud hearts might need to be humbled.
Whatever the particular details, this request reminds us that because the gospel creates one new family we need to pray that the life of that new family will honour and reflect the nature of the one who has brought it into being. Still today there is a need to pray that suspicion will be removed and genuine love fostered among all God’s people, in whatever situations.
The gospel itself demands we plan as Paul did and pray as he requested. Methinks there is some work to be done.
Studded throughout Paul’s letters are indications of the plans he made regarding his gospel work. The details he records are very interesting, not least because they show the impact the gospel has on our planning.
i) Practical – Hoping for their help when on his way to Spain; on his way to Jerusalem with monetary help from Macedonia and Achaia. Both are very practical details; the finer details do matter and there is a time & a place to sort then out (nb: seems Paul had no qualms in asking for material help, both for others and himself).
But notice that these practical details are determined by the gospel itself. It is because there is a message to share that Paul needs to be helped on his way; it is because the gospel creates a new family of God and unites Jew and Gentile that there needs to be practical and genuine expression of that new unity.
ii) Purposeful – Paul’s plans are very purposeful: he knows where he wants to go and why – “there is no more place for me to work in these regions”. Couldn’t he have found a pastorate somewhere and settled down? Of course! But his purpose is to extend the work, not to settle down.
Some (many?) must settle into a longer-term pattern of ministry but our mentality (whatever our particular Christian service might be) must always be expansive, because the gospel demands it, the very character and heart of God demands it. And if our mentality is expansive, it will, of necessity, affect our planning.
2. Praying
But if the gospel affects and determines our planning, the same is true about our praying. Planning and praying are to go hand in hand, whatever our temperament may be, and both are entailments of the gospel itself. The same gospel that impels us to plan also impels us to pray.
i) Joining the struggle – Paul here describes such prayer as joining with him in his struggle. We may find prayer hard and there may be many reasons for that but part of the reason is that it is a sharing in the reality of the spiritual warfare that is at the heart of the gospel. When the gospel is preached and lived, a cosmic struggle is joined. We may – we will – find it hard going but the call is to join the struggle.
ii) Two-fold struggle – But what is noticeable here is that the struggle operates on two fronts. Paul asks for prayer that he will be rescued from unbelievers; a quite natural request and a very realistic one, since wherever he went Paul encountered trouble.
That’s the nature of the gospel and the battle we’re involved in. The world as a whole is not ambivalent to the gospel; it is hostile to it, since the natural mind is hostile to God. The need for the same prayer still exists today; the struggle hasn’t changed.
But the second area of struggle is less expected yet still as much in need of prayer. Paul asks that his service will be acceptable to the saints in Jerusalem. The reasons aren’t hard to work out – such a gift, from Gentiles to Jews, might offend some people’s sensibilities and some proud hearts might need to be humbled.
Whatever the particular details, this request reminds us that because the gospel creates one new family we need to pray that the life of that new family will honour and reflect the nature of the one who has brought it into being. Still today there is a need to pray that suspicion will be removed and genuine love fostered among all God’s people, in whatever situations.
The gospel itself demands we plan as Paul did and pray as he requested. Methinks there is some work to be done.
So - why Spain?
That would be a very good question for potential missionaries (well, at least for those thinking of going to Spain). Might we be permitted to ask the same question of the Apostle Paul whose desire to travel to Spain is clearly stated in Romans 15:23ff?
What was driving his desire - the simple fact that the gospel had not yet reached those regions? No doubt. That the people there were in thrall to idols as much as any other nation and needed to hear the gospel of God’s grace? Of course. Yet it would be wrong to imagine that Paul’s plans sprang from a disinterested pragmatism – they were the distilled passion of a man eager to see Jesus honoured as Lord and for the nations to know the blessings of his reign. If Jesus has not been preached in Spain, Paul will go there to make him known.
But it may well be that Paul’s decision to go to Spain was not simply that it was the first – or even the best – place he came upon where the gospel was unknown. He made plain in Romans that his gospel centres on the reality that Jesus is Lord, that “our God reigns”; in that light, Paul may have felt his desire to go to Spain was scripturally mandated by Psalm 72, the great celebration of the Messiah’s reign and the blessing of the nations in him.
Psalm 72:10 tells us that “the kings…of distant shores will bring tribute to him” and Spain was, indeed, relatively distant. But it may be even more specific than that: verse 10, in full, speaks of “The kings of Tarshish”. Where was Tarshish? The question has not been settled with complete certainty but, in all likelihood, it was a reference to Spain.
Paul longed to bring people to the obedience of faith to King Jesus. Psalm 72 says that the kings of Spain will be among them – and Paul takes note and makes his plans to go there – yes, because it is unreached but also because he wants with all his heart to fulfil the mandate of his Lord.
But all the evidence (or perhaps the lack of it) suggests that Paul never in fact got there. The desire to go was right and good; it was both sensible and scriptural. Yet in the purposes of God it seems Paul was not the one to take the gospel there. So was his desire misplaced and his efforts wasted?
Not in God’s hands, for the desire to go to Spain and the need to pass through Rome called forth the letter to the Romans, a letter that has been used by God at critical times in the church’s history and has been a blessing to untold numbers through the centuries.
Your desire may be to go where the gospel is not known; you may even feel that the call to go is scripturally mandated – and yet the way has not opened up. Were you wrong to have that desire? Was your reading of scripture mistaken? Not necessarily; but the Lord of the harvest works out his plans as he sees fit. And he will not waste that desire – it may have resulted in fervent prayer for places you might never have prayed for; your evident concern for those who have never heard may have deeply moved others who now serve the Lord in just such a place; your discussions with others about your sense of call may have caused them to lay aside their factionalism in order to focus more clearly on the gospel.
Who knows how the Lord may have used what was a right desire and one based squarely upon scripture? What we can be sure of is that he will have used it – and your story is not done with yet; so “never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervour, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer” (Rom. 12:11,12).
What was driving his desire - the simple fact that the gospel had not yet reached those regions? No doubt. That the people there were in thrall to idols as much as any other nation and needed to hear the gospel of God’s grace? Of course. Yet it would be wrong to imagine that Paul’s plans sprang from a disinterested pragmatism – they were the distilled passion of a man eager to see Jesus honoured as Lord and for the nations to know the blessings of his reign. If Jesus has not been preached in Spain, Paul will go there to make him known.
But it may well be that Paul’s decision to go to Spain was not simply that it was the first – or even the best – place he came upon where the gospel was unknown. He made plain in Romans that his gospel centres on the reality that Jesus is Lord, that “our God reigns”; in that light, Paul may have felt his desire to go to Spain was scripturally mandated by Psalm 72, the great celebration of the Messiah’s reign and the blessing of the nations in him.
Psalm 72:10 tells us that “the kings…of distant shores will bring tribute to him” and Spain was, indeed, relatively distant. But it may be even more specific than that: verse 10, in full, speaks of “The kings of Tarshish”. Where was Tarshish? The question has not been settled with complete certainty but, in all likelihood, it was a reference to Spain.
Paul longed to bring people to the obedience of faith to King Jesus. Psalm 72 says that the kings of Spain will be among them – and Paul takes note and makes his plans to go there – yes, because it is unreached but also because he wants with all his heart to fulfil the mandate of his Lord.
But all the evidence (or perhaps the lack of it) suggests that Paul never in fact got there. The desire to go was right and good; it was both sensible and scriptural. Yet in the purposes of God it seems Paul was not the one to take the gospel there. So was his desire misplaced and his efforts wasted?
Not in God’s hands, for the desire to go to Spain and the need to pass through Rome called forth the letter to the Romans, a letter that has been used by God at critical times in the church’s history and has been a blessing to untold numbers through the centuries.
Your desire may be to go where the gospel is not known; you may even feel that the call to go is scripturally mandated – and yet the way has not opened up. Were you wrong to have that desire? Was your reading of scripture mistaken? Not necessarily; but the Lord of the harvest works out his plans as he sees fit. And he will not waste that desire – it may have resulted in fervent prayer for places you might never have prayed for; your evident concern for those who have never heard may have deeply moved others who now serve the Lord in just such a place; your discussions with others about your sense of call may have caused them to lay aside their factionalism in order to focus more clearly on the gospel.
Who knows how the Lord may have used what was a right desire and one based squarely upon scripture? What we can be sure of is that he will have used it – and your story is not done with yet; so “never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervour, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer” (Rom. 12:11,12).
Saturday, 26 November 2005
There are days
There are days
when I am not a pilgrim,
when my feet are stuck in rutted land
and my hand
is empty of another's
by the choice
of a distanced and
wasting heart.
There are days
when the choice that's made
is made
without fear, without care,
without joy;
into despair's wilful, guilt-driven
destruction.
And to say that
betrayal is met
still by unquenched love
and hungered, stubborn grace
is no easy belief,
no callous relief,
no feigned grief.
It is simply true,
beyond all tears,
beyond all years,
beyond all doubt.
when I am not a pilgrim,
when my feet are stuck in rutted land
and my hand
is empty of another's
by the choice
of a distanced and
wasting heart.
There are days
when the choice that's made
is made
without fear, without care,
without joy;
into despair's wilful, guilt-driven
destruction.
And to say that
betrayal is met
still by unquenched love
and hungered, stubborn grace
is no easy belief,
no callous relief,
no feigned grief.
It is simply true,
beyond all tears,
beyond all years,
beyond all doubt.
Thursday, 24 November 2005
Being loved...sort of
Harold (8): Daddy, I love you, you're the best man in all the world.
Iola (4): No he isn't; Ben is - he lifts me up by my feet!
Iola (4): No he isn't; Ben is - he lifts me up by my feet!
Monday, 21 November 2005
Three Lessons from Jonah
1. The refusal to do mission brings calamity upon us and our neighbours. The church cannot expect to live in a comfortable relationship with God whilst ignoring his agenda for mission. Jonah quite deliberately turned his back on the Lord’s call and headed west. But the Lord’s heart for both Jonah and mission is such that he cannot allow Jonah to just go his way. And so he goes after him, bringing a storm upon the ship, endangering not only Jonah’s life but those of the sailors too.
If we refuse to follow God’s agenda for mission, we will know his discipline and our neighbours may well be caught in the crossfire as the church struggles to come to terms with what God is doing. Is some of the distress that we see around us not simply a wake-up call to the church to greater urgency in mission but also the by-product of our failure to do so? It’s a sobering thought.
2. The LORD God will do whatever is necessary to engage his people in mission. One of the most sobering aspects of this scene is the way the sailors and the captain show more spiritual awareness than Jonah. He is happy to sleep through the storm and has to be goaded into prayer. And when he finally owns his sin and tells them to throw him overboard, they initially refuse and only do so at last with the greatest reluctance.
The Lord shames his prophet through the compassion and spiritual awareness of pagans and then saves him from death by a giant fish. How unusual his ways can be! But such is his commitment to mission that he will do whatever is necessary to awaken his people, shaming us by the compassion of others, getting our attention by unusual circumstances. Do we hear his voice or are we asleep in the light?
3. It is possible to do mission successfully yet without genuine compassion. Is Jonah a hero by the end of the book, the repentant runaway who now preaches with passion and compassion? I think not. Yes, he goes to
We are perhaps more like Jonah than we care to concede. His story shows how perverse our hearts can be and how gracious our God is. Despite his people’s disdain and reluctance, he will ensure his mission succeeds, with or without our hearts’ consent. The only loser in this story is Jonah himself. He is the villain of the piece. To know that the LORD is “a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity” and not to rejoice in it, and even to oppose it, is the sign of a very sick heart.
The telling history of Jonah closes, as Jesus’ parable of the lost son does, with a question that searches both Jonah and the hearer. Does Jonah have a right to be angry? Will he go on excluding himself from a true enjoyment of the amazing grace of God? The Ninevites turned, the younger brother turned, people today are turning. Does that delight our hearts? Do we preach and yet refuse to party? Is our commitment to mission more than skin deep? Is our obedience grudging or grateful?
Friday, 18 November 2005
Looking towards heaven
It's what Jesus did, as he began to pray in John 17, having concluded his long discussion with his disciples. But why look up? Doesn't he know God doesn't really live in the sky? Wow, how primitive can you get.
But this is the Son of God. His grasp of the reality of God so far exceeds our miniature glimpses it isn't even worthy of a comparison. So what's really going on here?
Perhaps what we're seeing here is the significance of posture as symbol. By his posture, Jesus is symbolising, in his upward look, the reality that God is transcendent and reigns supreme; it is also a look of unfeigned trust (cf. Ps. 123). And his posture not only conveys that to the watching disciples, it also helps Jesus to express it.
Posture in prayer is clearly not everything but perhaps we can say that it is not insignificant – Jesus himself teaches that in his example here. After all, we are not simply spiritual beings; we were created as physical creatures and need to express ourselves in an integrated way – heart and hands, so to speak.
Jesus raises his eyes – something the tax collector in the temple would not do, because of his felt sense of shame. Only Jesus can by rights look upward into the face of God without any hint of shame, without a shred of arrogance. But here he models the reality for all who are right with God in him – there is no longer any need to hide our faces but, knowing the mercy of God, we can look upward into the face of our Creator and call him ‘Father’, we can look upward and seek his glory.
But this is the Son of God. His grasp of the reality of God so far exceeds our miniature glimpses it isn't even worthy of a comparison. So what's really going on here?
Perhaps what we're seeing here is the significance of posture as symbol. By his posture, Jesus is symbolising, in his upward look, the reality that God is transcendent and reigns supreme; it is also a look of unfeigned trust (cf. Ps. 123). And his posture not only conveys that to the watching disciples, it also helps Jesus to express it.
Posture in prayer is clearly not everything but perhaps we can say that it is not insignificant – Jesus himself teaches that in his example here. After all, we are not simply spiritual beings; we were created as physical creatures and need to express ourselves in an integrated way – heart and hands, so to speak.
Jesus raises his eyes – something the tax collector in the temple would not do, because of his felt sense of shame. Only Jesus can by rights look upward into the face of God without any hint of shame, without a shred of arrogance. But here he models the reality for all who are right with God in him – there is no longer any need to hide our faces but, knowing the mercy of God, we can look upward into the face of our Creator and call him ‘Father’, we can look upward and seek his glory.
Thursday, 10 November 2005
Apart from
the obvious instances where Jesus speaks about Jonah, the example of the OT prophet seems to cast its shadow in other ways across Jesus' ministry.
Take the elder brother in Luke 15 - his mean-spirited response to the return of his brother is very much akin to Jonah's response to the repentance of Nineveh. And, just as the book of Jonah ends with the Creator's question, so too the parable ends with the Father's question.
And then there's the small matter of sleeping through a storm (Jonah 1:4ff; Mark 4:35ff). One slept in open defiance of his God, the other in secure trust in his Father and in glad submission to his calling.
Wonder if this same pattern emerges anywhere else?
Take the elder brother in Luke 15 - his mean-spirited response to the return of his brother is very much akin to Jonah's response to the repentance of Nineveh. And, just as the book of Jonah ends with the Creator's question, so too the parable ends with the Father's question.
And then there's the small matter of sleeping through a storm (Jonah 1:4ff; Mark 4:35ff). One slept in open defiance of his God, the other in secure trust in his Father and in glad submission to his calling.
Wonder if this same pattern emerges anywhere else?
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