the shame of sin

We read Graham Greene's The Power and The Glory for 'A' level English Literature. I just picked it up again today at the library, in readiness for a week's holiday. Skimming through it briefly, this passage caught my eye and made me glad for the opportunity to re-read this book about the compromised whiskey priest and the calloused lietenant. Greene's sense of the struggle that sin is was acute.

He lifted little pink eyes like those of a pig conscious of the slaughter-room. A high child's voice said, 'Jose.' He stared in a bewildered way around the patio. At a barred window opposite three children watched him with deep gravity. He turned his back and took a step or two towards his door, moving very slowly because of his bulk. 'Jose,' somebody squeaked again. 'Jose.' He looked back over his shoulder and caught the faces out in expressions of wild glee; his little pink eyes showed no anger - he had no right to be angry: he moved his mouth into a ragged, baffled, disintegrated smile, and as if that sign of weakness gave them all the licence they needed, they squealed back at him without disguise, 'Jose, Jose. Come to bed, Jose.' Their little shameless voices filled the patio, and he smiled humbly and sketched small gestures for silence, and there was no respect anywhere left for him in his home, in the town, in the whole abandoned star.

taking it whole

Have it your way, someone said. And you can. Take albums, for instance. No longer do we have to suffer the weaker tracks, the songs that bore us and leave us drifting. No need to lift the stylus and replace it gingerly, hoping not to scratch the precious vinyl. No need to press ff and guess where the next track starts. No need to press 'skip' on the CD remote. Just don't bother downloading the track in the first place. Don't rip it; don't burn it. Just ditch it.

But those tracks are part of the treasure because they give the context for the songs you love more than anything else. They help to tell the story, the whole story, even if you aren't listening to a concept album from the heady days of the 70's. We need the fullness. That struck me again whilst listening to Ohio by Over The Rhine. It's a sprawling double-album that is studded with songs that are more than fine; there are also weaker pieces that I often skip over. But taking it whole I realised that mixing and matching was robbing me of the larger canvas of ideas and the need and opportunity to respond to lesser material, even while being drawn more tightly into the finer moments.

Of course I'll still listen to isolated tracks and maybe even play them shuffled. But maybe I need to make time, too, to listen to the whole artistic expression because the artist has something to say. And I won't get it by ipodding them into a parody of Norman Collier.

And listening to the whole might do other things, too. Teach me patience and tolerance. Allow time to uncover gems that only surface on repeated listenings. Gems of rare quality that instant karma cannot yield. To learn the rhythms of life where moments of joy are couched within the lesser. Diamonds in the dark and in the gloom and in the partial light of days undawned.

credit where it's due?

I think that I can safely say that the Judeo-Christian Bible is a self-help book that has probably enabled more people to make more extensive and intensive personality and behavioral changes than all professional therapists combined.

So said 'strident atheist' and pioneer-psychotherapist Albert Ellis in 1993.

Source: Mark McMinn, Psychology, Theology and Spirituality in Christian Counselling, Tyndale 1996.

Two

years passed
since your
passing;
since the moment
your life
ceased
with a final
lunge;
since the loosed
departure
into a void
not seen
and your presence
lost.

Two years of days
and hours
and minutes
and seconds
and breaths
and beats
that never belonged
to you.

Too long
years.


(for Dad)

writing about grace

I have spent a good deal of my adult life trying to understand grace. Most of this has been through the routines of life - marriage, studying, prayer, parenting, worship, reading, and friendship. Many years ago I devoted some of my routine to writing a book about grace. No one has seen or heard of the book since, and though I have quite a knack for authoring books that no one ever hears of, there is a good explanation in this case. The book was never published. I sent my two-hundred-fifty-page manuscript to several different publishers, and each of them responded with a permutation of the standard "thanks, but no thanks" letter.

Fifteen years later, I am grateful that book was never published. It was a book produced by an overachieving young assistant professor who was committed to routine but had not yet had enough moments of insight to write about grace. It was a book written before I began to grasp the depth of brokenness and sin in our world and in my own heart. Understanding grace cannot be done without understanding sin. Sometimes I ponder what that unpublished book, with its anemic view of grace, would have been titled if it had been published. Perhaps, Grace Lite or Grace: Because I'm Worth It or Grace: I'm Good Enough, I'm Smart Enough, and Doggone It, People Like Me.

In the intervening fifteen years I have continued to experience occasional punctuating moments - windows of insight - that have brought fresh glimpses of grace. They are not altogether pleasant moments because they are always accompanied with a weighty, breath-stealing awareness of my sin and my desperate need for forgiveness. But they are motivating. It is the second of two such punctuating moments that finally gave me the courage to write this book.

(Why Sin Matters by Mark McMinn, pp.2,3; Tyndale 2004)

When the big boys come calling....

Mike Rohde, we salute ya.

The Last Of The Peasantry

What does he know? moving through the fields
And the wood's echoing cloisters
With a beast's gait, hunger in his eyes
Only for what the flat earth supplies;
His wisdom dwindled to a small gift
For handling stock, planting a few seeds
To ripen slowly in the warm breath
Of an old God to whom he never prays.

Moving through the fields, or still at home,
Dwarfed by his shadow on the bright wall,
His face is lit always from without,
The sun by day, the red fire at night;
Within is dark and bare, the grey ash
Is cold now, blow on it as you will.

(R. S. Thomas)

praying for missionaries

We all need help in praying for others. The prayers in the Bible are a great help and so are the requests for prayer we find there. In Romans 15:30-32, Paul asks for prayer, as he often did. He urges the Roman believers, “by our Lord Jesus Christ and by the love of the Spirit” to join him in his struggle by praying to God for him. To pray for others honours the Lordship of Jesus and is an act of love prompted by the Holy Spirit. To pray for others is also to struggle with and for them, as Paul knows. It is a partnership in hard work!

What exactly is the nature of the struggle in Paul’s situation? He says it is twofold. Going to Jerusalem, he needs to be “rescued from the unbelievers in Judea”. Gospel ministry always involves this struggle. It is a frequent, urgent prayer request of many missionaries. The world has not changed in 2000 years and neither has the nature of the struggle. It is not a battle against flesh and blood but it is often manifested through flesh and blood. We must pray for protection and safety.

Paul is also concerned that his “service in Jerusalem may be acceptable to the saints there”. Here is a less obvious yet no less real and urgent need for prayer. It is a request that still carries weight for missionaries today.

Paul was taking much needed financial help to the suffering church in Jerusalem, a gift from the Gentile churches. What could possibly be difficult about such a ministry? Why does he fear that his service might prove to be unacceptable? At least two features of the situation may give rise to his concern.

First, there is the history of Paul’s persecution of the church before his conversion and the suspicion of him that followed. He had caused much suffering and the memory of it may still be sharp in many hearts.

We know that we are to forgive as the Lord forgave us, but knowing it is one thing, doing it is another thing entirely. Maybe Paul is simply being realistic in terms of the struggle many of us have with forgiving and forgetting. And it may be that missionaries today encounter suspicion among those they seek to serve because of past failures. Perhaps mistakes made in the early days of ministry are still remembered and poison present fellowship. We need to pray that God will grant healing in such situations.

But it may be that what Paul is most conscious of is that for many Jewish believers something of the old Jew-Gentile divide still exists. Receiving a gift from the Gentile churches may be hard to swallow, because it will mean swallowing their pride. Paul’s approach will need to combine a sensitivity that doesn’t pander to the pride of others with a boldness that doesn’t brutalise their sensibilities. No wonder he is asking for prayer!

Our friends need such prayer too. They need grace to serve national churches with wisdom and humility, without any of the negative overtones of paternalism. They need grace to deal with situations that witness more to old divisions than to the unity of the Spirit. We need to pray that their service may be “acceptable to the saints”.

They also serve...

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

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

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

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

Yes, Jesus is Lord, even over all our infirmities. The Lord who is sovereign can use us just as he will. His purposes are not thwarted when our gifts are limited through age or infirmity, nor are his purposes overtaken by events beyond our control. Paul had grasped this as he languished in a Roman prison. Despite the curtailing of his ‘active service’ he was still rejoicing in the Lord’s ability to use his circumstances and even the wrong motives of others to further the cause of Christ (Phil. 1:12-18). We may feel chained by age or circumstances but “God’s Word is not chained” (2 Tim. 2:9) and by his Spirit he can still use us to herald the name of Jesus, in our sufferings, through our prayers.

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

quoting the quoted

In order to be able to assume the responsibility for other people’s growth, leaders must themselves have grown to true maturity and inner freedom. They must not be locked up in a prison of illusion or selfishness, and they must have allowed others to guide them...

We can only command if we know how to obey. We can only be a leader if we know how to be a servant. We can only be a mother—or a father—figure if we are conscious of ourselves as a daughter or a son. Jesus is the Lamb before the He is the Shepherd. His authority comes from the Father; He is the beloved Son of the Father.

Jean Vanier, Community and Growth, 1989 - quoted on Out of Ur.

poetry, questions and answers

Yann Martel has been sending books to the Canadian Prime Minister, Stephen Harper (see here). Along with the books, he writes letters and in one letter he makes this observation about poems:

The marvel of poetry is that it can be as short as a question yet as powerful as an answer.

How well said, Mr Martel. And happy reading, Mr Harper.

vulnerability: haiku #1

To admit you're vulnerable
is strong and not weak;
it shivers the backs of men.

Two gems from Harold

From the back of the car came these thoughts...

When I grow up I'm going to join the army as a morale booster.

I'm going to join the army to learn self-discipline and then quit.

who can forgive sins?

In Matthew 9, when Jesus tells the paralysed man, Your sins are forgiven (v.2), the Pharisees respond by accusing him of blasphemy (v.3); in Mark's account their ire is made more explicit: they ask, Who can forgive sins but God alone? (Mark 2:7). It's a good question - and also a moot point.

The crowd who see the miracle respond with awe and praise because, as they see it, "God...had given such authority to men." Authority to do what? To heal? Yes. To forgive? That would seem to be part of the package they have in mind.

The Pharisees are angered because, as they see it, God alone can forgive sins; and the crowd are amazed because, as they see it, God has conferred authority on men (not just the man) to forgive sins.

Who's right? It's often said (by preachers - I know, because I've said it) that the Pharisees were at least right on this point; where they went wrong was in not recognising that God was among them in the person of his Son. So they were right and the crowd was wrong.

I'm not so sure now. Is it true that only God can forgive sins? Yes, but it is also true that he devolves the authority to do so to people - Jesus tells us that explicitly in Matthew 18:15ff, esp. v.18.

So the Pharisees were only partly right; the crowd, however deficient in their understanding of the true identity of Jesus, had got it spot on.

a heap from ash

A small overview on the book of Job that is big on pastorally-helpful material, grounded in serious exegesis and wise biblical-theology. It also helps that Ash can write well; very well.

Young At Heart

Been listening to Neil Young's latest release - Live At Massey Hall 1971 - stunning vocal performance, great acoustic guitar, appreciative audience, gentle humour and, of course, lyrics that plumb depths of emotional intensity both real and raw, whilst remaining humane and sane. A welcome companion on a miserably-wet morning.

Song for Hefina

Recently came across this piece, written after an 18-week miscarriage in 1995. The little girl was due to be born in June 1996, hence the name we chose for her ('June' in Welsh is Mehefin). Posting it here fwiw.



Song for Hefina

Out of time,
yet your time hadn't come;
Out of the darkness,
into eternal light.

Joy we never tasted
and shared at your dawn,
Is multiplied to you
in heaven's glory song.

And lullabies soft whispered
never soothed a troubled cry;
Yet music wholly other
holds and charms you now.

Our arms never held
and cradled you in love;
His are everlasting,
how can we long for return?

Tested and examined,
consigned to history.
Our hearts will never forget you
nor will our tears dry
until the day faith turns to sight
and God, who is rich in mercy,
unfurls the banner
of love's final triumph.

On the cusp

of a study-week, to be spent in our Dandy, sans famile (as Alain Dah-vey might say). Here are the books I plan to take and (maybe) to read:

John Goldingay, Old Testament Theology Vol 2 - Israel's Faith
Kevin Vanhoozer, The Drama of Doctrine
Eugene Peterson, Eat This Book
Eugene Peterson, The Jesus Way
Miroslav Volf, Free of Charge
Miroslav Volf, The End of Memory
Larry Crabb, Soul Talk
Chris Wright, The Mission of God

I guess that's enough. I've never had a study week before so I figured that it's best to take too many books rather than take only a few and then find they aren't what's most needed. I also decided to take a variety of styles and subjects. And some are small and some are big.

Of course, a Bible or three will also be needed. And a mobile phone, a set of headphones and directions to the nearest public house showing the Champions' League final on Wednesday. The essentials, so to speak.

The Dandy? This is it:

the words that saved my life

I know, LORD, that your laws are righteous,
and that in faithfulness you have afflicted me.

May your unfailing love be my comfort,
according to your promise to your servant.

(Psalm 119:75,76)

Tagged!

Msr Alain Dah-vey has apparently tagged me (it hasn't happened since I was at Junior School in Pwllheli) so I ought to try to reply (this is where he did so).

Three characters I wish were real, so I could meet them:
i) Reginald Perrin
ii) Esther Greenwood (from The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath)
iii) Querry (from A Burnt-Out Case by Graham Greene)

Three characters I would like to be:
i) Reginald Perrin
ii) Richard Hannay
iii) Alf Tupper (from The Victor comic for boys)

Three characters who scare me:
i) Dr Mary Malone (from Philip Pulman's His Dark Materials)
ii) Maxwell Edison (from Maxwell's Silver Hammer by The Beatles)
iii) The Cook (in Yann Martel's Life of Pi)

I need to tag 3 people. I only know one who qualifies: The Masked Badger. You're tagged, sonny.