Lent 2021 - Journeying with Joel - Can you spend 40 days this Lent in one passage of the Bible?

Fancy a challenge, or rather fancy joining me in a challenge I'm setting myself.

Could you spend 40 days this Lent in one passage of the Bible?

Don't get me wrong, I know I'll read plenty more of the Bible, the Old Testament and New Testament, and I'll undoubtedly preach about other bits of the Bible, you might do too, but still...

What might happen to you, to me, if each day in Lent I came back to the passage from Joel we read on Ash Wednesday.

It's a funny, three-chaptered book in the middle of the minor prophets. I'm not confident he gets much of a look in throughout the other 51 weeks in the year, but every Ash Wednesday the Anglican church includes Joel 2:1-2,12-17 in its main service. I mean we don't even include the whole chapter, just a few select verses.

You can read them here, or the whole chapter here.

So that's eight verses in total. 

Eight verses from one chapter from one of the 39 books of the Old Testament, which itself is out of 66 books in the entire Bible.

I hear lots of people say that Lent isn't about giving stuff up (despite the ubiquity of the question: what are you giving up this Lent?). Instead, people tell me that Lent is about taking up practices, behaviours, habits and hobbies that will help their walk with God.

One of these disciplines is reading the Bible. There's this consensus among Christians I meet that they want to use Lent to 'read my Bible more.' This often leads to ungovernable reading plans, early alarm roll calls, and urgently downloaded Apps. And so many people plunge themselves into a swimming pool of guilt as they struggle to keep up with the volume of Bible they attempt to ingest.

What I'm suggesting is eight verses. Eight verses you might read every morning. You could read that as your coffee brews, or your washing bowl fills, or as you brush your teeth. How long does it take you to read eight verses? Doesn't sound like much, does it?  

You could read the verses and then have a read of this blog (if you want?). I'll try to blog each day on a new aspect of Joel I'm noticing.

Fancy it?

I do. It's both a serious challenge, but also a playful one.

And I hope that might characterise your Lent: serious and playful. 

And for a moment more, use your imagination, how might you feel, think, act if you were to commit to this challenge? What might happen to me in the rising to the challenge?

Lent through Joel 1: First things first, Christian, its all about the heart, all of it.

Yesterday (yes, I know...typical tardiness) was Ash Wednesday. Rather surprisingly, I was asked to preach at the Ashing service.

Well actually, I was asked to offer a short reflection.

So I really shouldn't have rolled my sleeves up (metaphorically) to do some actual investigation of the text. I chose to preach on Joel 2:1-2, 12-17.

As I lay in bed this morning, contemplating the rest of Lent, I was struck that there really was so much I had wanted to say, but couldn't even hint at, let alone say.

So I've decided to try and extend my reflection on Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 across the forty days of Lent. Each day I will explore, briefly, another aspect of this reading and what it might say to us as we journey through Lent.

So here goes...ready?

God doesn't want part of your heart, he wants it all. You are to be wholehearted.

As I lay awake in bed on Tuesday evening, having drafted my sermon, in those few moments before I drift off to sleep, and that's genuinely about a minute normally, I felt a prompt deep within me that I had "missed the point."

Sure, I'd noticed that God speaks directly, in the first person, only in verse 12 of Joel 2.

"Even now, return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning."

Now as it was Ash Wednesday two things had preoccupied me: the idea of a return, and the combination of prayer-aids (fasting/weeping/mourning). But it was as if God told me to re-read the sentence. I was planning on saying, "God wants your heart."

But that's not what it says - unfortunately.

That would have made the call very fitting for Valentine's Day. When so much money is spent by couples on gifts and meals, while constantly holding back some of their heart, awaiting a better option, another heart to pursue. (Not all I appreciate!)

It's easy to give some of your heart. To be part time, to offer some commitment.

But God is patiently asking for nothing less than all our hearts.

And that is why I need Lent.

There are parts of my heart I don't want to give God, sins I cherish and cling to, attitudes of self-righteousness that allow me to justify my moods and tempers. I even use some religious habits to protect me from really giving myself to God.

Lent then is the season of the year where we step into a wilderness, we try to wean ourselves off those things that seek to control or dominate. We acknowledge the things that have a piece of our heart.

I think Joel offers some insights into how we might do this. Perhaps you'll accompany me as we work through this call to return to God with all our hearts.

WISDOM AND FORGIVENESS

This is something I wrote quite a while ago, February 2007, clearly during Lent, and with the same readings we had for our Main office today: Jonah 3, and Luke 11:29-32.
I'm not sure I agree with myself, albeit a 27 year old version, but the sentiment is clear.


Luke 11:29-32

The Ninevites & Jonah: The Queen of Sheba & Solomon

Here Jesus holds up as examples, Jonah and Solomon.

One represents repentance, the other wisdom.

Jonah is understood to our modern ears almost exclusively as the reluctant prophet swallowed by a ‘whale’. Through rose-tinted glasses we wistfully recall Sunday School lesson that latched onto this most peculiar of stories to convince us that God is exciting, that God isn’t boring, but cool and…wait for it…funny!

Sadly this pre-occupation with the first chapter of Jonah fails to give credence to the sweep of the story, which moves through reluctance-disobedience-realisation-repentance-acceptance-frustration.

The fish is used by God to discipline Jonah.

However, Jesus uses Jonah to demonstrate to his hearers the need to not look for excitement and miracles. The crowd is swelling and crushing in on Jesus, for what purpose? To see this miracle-worker. Jonah is already miraculous enough, he's already a sign for them.

Jesus sensing their voyeurism speaks out, pointing them to true wisdom: the need for humility and repentance.

Indeed, so obvious is this truth that Jonah will speak out against that generation of listeners waiting for the next miracle, clamouring around Jesus.

And Jonah will speak out against us too. When we clamour for God to reveal himself, to prove himself - Jonah is a voice against us too.

Where is wisdom to be sought? Is it in the charismatic worship services full of praise and passion?

NO.

Wisdom is found on our knees before our creator, humbling lifting our hands in petition for our sins, clothed in sackcloth and ash. We are not to seek miracles (although they are God’s handiwork), we are not to seek signs and wonders (although they point to God’s majesty).

Until, as one, we cry out to God for ourselves, our families, our churches, our nation, our world; until then we will not know true wisdom.

It isn’t just Jonah who’ll testify against us, but The Queen of Sheba too.

She sought wisdom and was led to God’s anointed king.

We like her must seek God’s anointed king, Jesus. In him alone is their wisdom and truth to prepare us for the world, and only He can bring us to repentance.

And yet, here’s the remarkable thing; He is greater by far than both these heroes.

Jesus isn’t only the one who will bring us to repentance; He is the source of our repentance and forgiveness. He isn’t merely a mouthpiece communicating God’s forgiveness; He IS forgiveness. His blood cleanses us.

Jesus isn’t a wise man, He isn’t full of wisdom; he IS wisdom.

To seek Jesus is hunger for wisdom and forgiveness.

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As I said above, I'm not sure I agree anymore that Wisdom (i.e. Jesus) can't be found in worship (of whatever style). But I do think we should be wary of coming to worship, particularly the more dramatic styles, with the desire for signs and wonders as an end in themselves. We come to worship in order to hear God speak, to encounter the Living Christ, through Word and Sacrament, Prayer and Song.

Lenten Loving - Sermon

This is the text from my sermon preached at Pudsey Parish church last night, 9 March 2014, for the 1st Sunday of Lent. The texts were Deuteronomy 6:4-9,16-25 and Luke 15:1-10. Inevitably, my actual preach included stuff not here, and certainly didn't include everything present, but here it is.

Picture the scene, it’s late on a Thursday night, and I’m calling in at Pudsey Asda for a few bits, including a card for Jen, my wife. I travelate downstairs and discover the card aisle full of men, jostling for position to find a last minute card. The date, the 13^th February. What were we all doing there: desperately trying to find a last minute Valentine’s card.

Now I must confess to being habitually inept at birthdays, anniversaries and Valentine’s day. But I was peculiarly struck at the scene. Here we all were, apparently forgetful and (dare-I-say-it) unromantic souls, worried about upsetting our significant other by failing to provide a token of our love on the most romantic day of the year. Woe betide any man who fails to produce the goods. I chatted with another chap in the same boat. We complained that we had been duped by the media and card manufacturers, but also our partners. After all, we’d often been told: let’s not worry about Valentine Cards this year, which of course is a trap. You should always buy a card!!

For many, Valentine’s Day is not spontaneous: it’s a requirement, a law – you shall love your partner. And something in us resents being told what to do, especially being told to love someone. After all, you can’t force some to love – can you?

As Christians, we read in Deuteronomy, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.” (Deut 6:5)

Lent is often a time when we berate ourselves for our lack of heart, soul and strength. We commit to trying harder, to digging deep. Whether sacrificing a vice, or taking up charitable behaviour, we earnestly commit ourselves to following this ‘greatest commandment’ to love God. As Eugene Merrill suggests, it as a call to love with all our “essence and expression.”

But it is our experience that we are incapable of living up to this standard. The Apostle Paul writes the law “instead of giving life, brought condemnation; instead of producing holiness, it stimulated sin” (Rom. 7:10).

Our struggle with sin, with keeping our Lenten fasts, is entirely bound up in forgetting that “everything is predicated on Yahweh’s love and faithfulness” (p.57 Fee & Stuart 2002). We think it starts with us: that we have to muster some loving devotion from nothing, that we should simply ‘try harder’, when in reality we are simply asked to respond to God’s love. Saint John understood this better than most:

“This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:10)

“We love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19)

If Lent’s focus is the cross of Christ, then it is a focus on the love of God, for the cross is God’s great banner of love.

And before we think this idea of God loving us is a New Testament innovation, hear these words from Deuteronomy: “The Lord did not set his affection on you and choose you because you were more numerous than other peoples, for you were the fewest of all peoples. But it was because the Lord loved you” (Deut. 7:7-8). The Old Testament goes on to speak of this love in human terms: as the love of a husband and wife, as the love of a father and son.

Thus, our response to the command to ‘love the LORD your God’ is one of “gratitude and devotion”.

Which rather begs the question – what makes us hold back from loving God 100%?

Our reading from Deuteronomy 6 presents three practices that might help us avoid a cooling in our relationship with God.

Firstly, a call to RECITE GOD’S WORD

Verses 6-9 are preoccupied with preserving and passing on the truth of God. Loving God is a matter of teaching and encouraging others and ourselves, in order to maintain devotion: a devotion that should permeate all areas of our life.

Verse 6 asks that God’s word be “upon your hearts”. Hebrew thought considered the heart to be the seat of thinking and meditation. I know it’s a well-worn refrain but how well are we doing at keeping God’s instruction on our minds? Eugene Merrill talks about reflection: how much do you reflect on what you’ve learnt about God? Paul recently referred to ‘reflective practice’ in nursing, and how Christians are generally quite good at thinking about how we’re doing, but how often do we reflect on what we’ve learnt about God?

We’re then told to “Impress them” – the commandments that is. The word is associated with the work of an engraver – how the words are made permanent. Are God’s words engraved on our hearts?

This work of engraving should include our children. We are blessed to have a cracking Youth Worker, a wide team of volunteers, developing relationships with local schools, and the Church of England expends vast amounts of money and energy on their schools.

But we must be wary of using these ministries as an escape from the responsibility to teach.

Elijah [my 3 year old] has just joined the toddler group and I’m keenly aware that I do not want him to only learn about Jesus there. It is a shame to think we and our children should study on only one day of the week. “Eternal truths are most effectively learned in the loving environment of a God-fearing home.”

It’s worth noting that an engraver has to chisel stone over and over for real success. So it is with faith, we are asked to talk about God day and night, when active (walking) and inactive (sitting), all throughout our life. There is the encouragement to surround ourselves with reminders, symbols of our faith on our bodies, but also in our homes and towns. When we love someone it should be a central and absorbing interest. The book of Deuteronomy is not primarily concerned issues of church politics and rules for liturgy, but “it sees faith and obedience to God as much a matter for the home as for the sanctuary. In sum it ‘domesticates’ the spiritual life.”

Are we actively engraving God’s word into our lives and the lives of our children? And is this being done everywhere?

 

Secondly, a call to RESIST DISOBEDIENCE, verses 16-19.

We read here of Massah – the place of testing – as recorded in Exodus 17. The Israelites are wandering in the wilderness and have begun to question whether God was really with them. The demand for water wasn’t so much about physical nourishment, as spiritual curiosity, but it showed their doubt in God’s promises. They called into question God’s faithfulness.

We too, in many and various ways, do the same. We complain to God and question His methods, motives and presence.

These calls for God to ‘prove himself’ showed a lack of understanding in God’s nature and character.

The opening verses of this passage are called the ‘Shema’ by Jews. But there is much debate about how the phrase in verse 4 should be translated:

“The LORD our God, the LORD is one”, or

“The LORD our God is one Lord”, or

“The LORD is our God, the LORD alone”

It is safe to say that the two aspects of God’s nature that are being revealed are his oneness and his uniqueness: Oneness in that he alone is the energy behind creation and history; Uniqueness in that there is no other. Or as one commentator says: Yahweh our God is the unique!

Having a clear sense of who God is makes the call to diligent obedience easier. Obedience does not come from “barren legalism based on necessity and duty. It [arises] from a relationship of love.” Obedience is critical, for imposing conditions and making petty demands of God is contrary to faith.

 

Thirdly, a call to REMEMBER YOUR STORY, verses 20-23

And so once more, we are asked to consider children, for they are “bound to enquire sooner or later why it is that their parents live a certain kind of life in contrast with the life of those about them”.

Well…. would they? Do they? This is a potentially embarrassing issue: does our behaviour at home undermine the words we say and sing in church? And not just for our children, but our wider family, our neighbours?

Here in Deuteronomy, the call is to retell the Exodus story; the moment when the unique bond between God and people was established.

When was that moment for you? What is your story of faith? When did you first encounter the love of God?

For many here tonight, this love was revealed to us when Jesus Christ came and found us while we were lost. Despite our sinfulness he reached into our lives and called us to him.

This is why the parables of the lost sheep and lost coin resonate so deeply.

Have you noticed, by the way, that the parable of the sheep has two moments of joy?

The first joyful moment is when the Shepherd puts the wayward creature on his shoulders. This is the moment of FINDING, but the second joyful moment happens once he is home, surrounded by his friends and family. Now maybe I’m reading too much into this, but it seems to me that if I lost a sheep and found it, despite initial joy, it would quickly give way to grumbling and complaining as I hoisted the beast back. I wouldn’t want a party but a bath!

I wonder whether we fail to recognise the carrying that Jesus implies he will do, and the joy that will accompany our arrival in heaven; surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses? We are saved, yes – but so much more, we are called to live with Jesus.

Corporately, our great act of remembrance is Communion, where we recount God’s past mercies and declare a fresh the covenant demands. This is another moment to explain to children and young people what we’re doing: why do we eat bread and drink wine? Perhaps this Lent will be a time to reflect on communion – what does it mean to you?

But most importantly, I would like to encourage you to remember your story.

People understand a story, not just children. Most of us have developed quirky, interesting, but often brief stories about how we met our significant other or closest friends. But many struggle to speak of coming to faith in similar terms.

So let me ask you, ‘how did you fall in love with Jesus?’

If you haven’t thought on this question much recently, take some time to reminisce. When we forget to stay thankful for God’s salvation we can quickly lose a sense of our history and meaning. And much like the parables, we are invited to remember with joy that moment of being found. This is the key in our story – it is this love and joy we find in Jesus the world should see.

 

In conclusion, these three principles are a general call to RIGHTEOUS LIVING, verses 24-25

The passage draws the themes together with a refrain to obey and fear God. It concludes with the words, “if we are careful to obey all this law before the Lord our God, as he has commanded us, that will be our righteousness.”

The word translated as ‘righteousness’ is complex. When used as here it describes being in right relationship with someone, that a person has been delivered or justified.

But the word could also refer to a way of behaving, rather than an outcome. This sense of being made right, or living-right is summed up perfectly in the Message translation:

“It will be a set-right and put-together life for us if we make sure that we do this entire commandment in the Presence of God, our God, just as he commanded us to do.”

 LENT

Concluding, there are different approaches to Lent.

I would encourage you to consider this season as an opportunity to re-learn how to love God. Yes, this is a love that is commanded, but only in response. Ronald Clements describes this love as “a consistent concern to point to the loving, compassionate and life-affirming nature of God, which demands that those who worship should do so with a warmth and joy that recognises a loving Father-God who is always more generous in giving than in receiving.”

Coming back to Valentine’s day, it’s certainly possible that the expectation of a card can lead to dry duty, but for me, I need Valentine’s Day and the card-buying process to remind me of vows I took, to remember all that we’ve been through, to show Jen I love her, and strangely, of course, the effect is not to create resentment, but it opens us up to more love.

The same is true with God. Over time our awareness of God grows, and, with knowledge, should “develop into a deepening love.” You may have been lost and found many years ago but God is always calling us deeper in.

Loving God is a matter for our entire lives, our entire selves. God’s call to love Him is nothing but a call to “the deepest and truest fulfilment of human life.”

May we respond to this call.

Moths and Ashes

So today is Ash Wednesday.

For the uninitiated this is the first day of Lent. It's an amusing scene in our house the few days before Lent starts. We often opt to give things up in Lent, which is an increasingly popular aspect of the season, even for non-Christians. As usual, we've decided to quit chocolate. To compensate we've not stopped eating it for the last week; Cadbury Creme Eggs mostly...but anything we can get our hands on. I've become especially partial to Malteser Bunnies. Not for another 40 days though...

Despite this, I have been growing increasingly worried that a chocolate fast rather misses the point. Why, after all, do we give anything up? And what good will it do?

One of the perks of my job is a degree of flexibility about working hours. As a result, I have visited Ilkley this morning, firstly for a coffee with a friend, but secondly to attend St Margaret's Communion Service with the imposition of ashes. This is a sombre service during which all present have a cross marked on their foreheads with ashes. The ashes are made by burning up the palm crosses from last year's Easter season.

The sermon was given by my friend, Chris Phillips. He too asked that we should all question our motives during Lent. And this was challenging, not least because his words uncovered some dangerous thinking I'd succumbed to about ashing.

You see, I'd always imagined that (a little like Good Friday walks of witness) by getting ash on my forehead it would be a natural conversation starter beyond the walls of the church. People might laugh or mistakenly advise me to wash better, but I would then be able to speak of my faith.

On the contrary, one Bible reading during the service stated clearly:

"Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them" (Matthew 6:1)

It was pointed out that wandering around with ashes on my head, might, in fact, be a sign of religious pride. I might genuinely end up speaking of God, but how might my ego, my pride me stroked and inflated.

Ashes serve two purposes: they are a sign of penance, and a symbol of our mortality. Talk of signs and symbols is, of course, to speak of sacraments. But imposition of ashes is not a sacrament, but it is (as Chris pointed out) 'sacramental'. I may be doing something with commonplace objects (ashes) but the act speaks of a deeper reality, and by taking part I am reminded. As the ashes were imposed on my forehead, these words were spoken to me:

"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ"

By submitting to this rite, we are reminded that we have sinned, that we have not been faithful to Christ. Admittedly we do this every time we say the words of the confession, so why is this any different? It is because we simultaneously reminded that we will die.

It is incredibly unfashionable to speak of death.

But Lent is a season that is about death: the death of Jesus, but also our own death.

And this was made all the more poignant during the service when one of the congregation, a beautiful old lady called Joyce, who was too infirm to walk and kneel at the altar rail, was administered to where she sat. Seeing a (relatively) youthful priest gently, but firmly impose the ashes on this elderly lady, while saying those words, nearly brought me to tears. How must it have felt, for Joyce, who is plainly closer to death than most, be reminded of her mortality, but also her sinfulness?!

How does it make you feel to be reminded that you are sinful and you will die?

Meanwhile, during the sermon, I noticed a butterfly, or perhaps it was a moth, fluttering about, over the gathered assembly. Amusingly, the Matthew reading had just referred to moths:
"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume...but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth nor rust consumes...For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (Matt 6:19-21)

As I studied the delicate butterfly/moth I smiled.

They are so fragile, but beautiful. They are so transitory too - their lives are brief.

And how much like them am I?

Our morning prayers contained these words from 1 Timothy: "We brought nothing into the world, so that we can take nothing out of it" (1 Tim 6:6)

Our lives are so brief, so transitory.

But they can be things of beauty. The prayer of confession has us repent for 'marring your image in us'. When we sin, we somehow damage the person God designed and longs for us to be. We do this in so many small ways, without noticing. We fail to love God as we should and so our very image is damaged. We are caught up in the business of storing up treasure that will be eaten by moths!

And so much of our straining, labouring, toiling is about a false image we want to maintain, to try and keep people in the dark about who we really are.

Which rather brings me back to ashes.

I wanted people to see me with my little mucky cross on my head, not in order to evangelise, but in order to persuade people that I am better than I really am. I want to give up chocolate so that people will think I'm a better person than I am. It's all about posturing and pretending.

The reality of ashes was lost to me: I am grateful to have been reminded of my true nature.

Grief or Gladness: the dilemma of Easter Saturday

I’m always confused about how to behave on the big feast/holy days through the year.

I am unhappy to ‘pretend’ to be an Israelite waiting for their Messiah, or a Shepherd hearing the angel’s good news (Advent and Christmas). We live in the aftermath of Jesus’ incarnation and we are in fact waiting for his return.

But I also appreciate the power of re-enactment. The nativity play somehow keeps the story alive, it reminds us of the cost. Buy also, Nativity plays are quite cute.

So imagine how I feel about Holy Week?!

In an even more profound sense, the faux-mourning and pretend grief get up my nose a bit. Why do we play-act at sadness? We live in the aftermath of Easter…that joyous defeat of death.

Furthermore, the reading from John 2 on Easter Saturday (I do prefer the moniker ‘Holy Saturday’ or ‘Silent Saturday’) drives this point home:

“18 The Jews then responded to him, “What sign can you show us to prove your
authority to do all this?” 19 Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and I
will raise it again in three days.” 20 They replied, “It has taken forty-six
years to build this temple, and you are going to raise it in three days?” 21 But
the temple he had spoken of was his body. 22 After he was raised from the dead,
his disciples recalled what he had said. Then they believed the scripture and
the words that Jesus had spoken.” (John 2:18-22, NIV)

The disciples had been told there would be a middle day. They just hadn’t remembered. But we do??! We know what follows Saturday.

So shouldn’t we actually be rather more upbeat about all this? Why mope about as though we had been abandoned by Jesus – let down, etc. Once we pass Good Friday shouldn't we get rather more excited - like the anticipation of a long-awaited film, or the return of a long-travelling loved one?

Perhaps; perhaps not.

But in truth I’m rather glad we re-live the grief. For, for in truth, as many commentators suggest, we find solace in Easter Saturday because our own lives are marked by great sorrow and sadness, abandonment and confusion. There is comfort in knowing God is comfortable with silent tears.

I think, however, we must remember Paul’s injunction in 1 Thessalonians to “not grieve as others who have no hope” (1 Thes. 4:13). We grieve with hope.

And this is perhaps why Easter Saturday is the great climax of Lent. The last day we use the Lenten liturgy.

After spending time during Lent meditating on our sin, we find ourselves in Holy Week reading from Lamentations which suggests we should respond in silence (Lam 2:10), penitence (2:10), weeping (v. 11, 18), crying out to God (v.18 – much like the Psalmist in Psalm 142, the morning prayer psalm for Easter Saturday), a sense in which we come and pour our heart out before God (v.19). This is no play acting. And yet is precisely the range of activites we imagine the disciples engaging in. We come on Easter Saturday and sit in our own place. We now know Jesus is resurrected, but this understanding also makes us realise our part in his death – it was not a failed political venture, but a great act of mercy.

I am constantly, throughout Lent, repeating in worship and in private prayer the great cry from Hosea: “Come, let us return to the LORD.”

There is great promise in Hosea – that God will heal, bind up, revive, raise up, but also that he’ll appear and come. (Hosea 6:1-6)

This Easter Saturday – knowing the full extent of God’s mercy – Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again – we may be moved to tears – that he did all this for me. In my sin, my own most grievous sin – he did all this for me. So perhaps my tears aren’t just from grief, but gratitude too.

Passiontide - Day 1

The 5th Sunday of Lent sees a shift in the tone of the season - it grows heavier, darker, deeper, sadder and more focused, almost transfixed to the cross.

Hence the reading, John 12:20-33, which is focused on the cost of the cross. But so many of us miss this...

Holy week is a funny thing you see. We have this dark, contemplative season where in a spirit of introspection and self-examination we seek to walk with Jesus and discern the many and varied ways our walk has become hobbled. Through Lent I realise that my walk is hampered by a limp, by ill-fitting shoes, by a rocky road...and then we hit Palm Sunday, which is all-too-often a joyous celebration. We play act and frankly lose the sheer irony of the day.

Yes - Jesus entered triumphally, but we know how it pans out. Why do we celebrate? Surely the spirit of lenten sadness should move us to weep that so many so quickly deserted Jesus, including his own.

And then we stumble into Easter Day - the high point in our calendar.

Consider this...if you take the four Sundays including Mothering Sunday (4th Sunday in Lent) you can quite easily lose entirely the Lent theme: Mothers' Day, 5th Sunday, Palm Sunday, and Easter Day...the effect is exacerbated if one doesn't go to any church events during Holy Week...one could ignore the agony of the cross entirely!

Therefore - allow me to try and take you on that path of lamentation that Passiontide requires...

In John 12:20-33 we find Jesus in a deeply contemplative mood. "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified". Not quite the response Andrew and Philip expect when informing Jesus he has some guests to entertain. One writer has suggested that the disciples have had to 'find' Jesus as he was withdrawing from public ministry. He is all too aware that his purpose was about to be fulfilled.

But this is not just his purpose - but he teaches us a valuable and essential Christian principle, "unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds"...and He goes on to repeat his thoughts on what discipleship looks like...a choice between life and death.

In our cell group we have been wrestling at length over this issue of following Jesus. In Mark 8 Jesus says you must deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow. And we began to think the three things are separate...the first is about submission, which requires us to let go of our own agenda and ambition; the third is about obedience. But taking up your cross is not just a euphemism for 'deny yourself'...it speaks directly to what needs to happen to us - we have to die, not just make a decision to serve or submit.

Like Jesus we too have to die. Paul writes about this in Romans 6: "We died to sin" (v.2)

Death...it's not something I seek, but Jesus seems to be saying, "pursue death, run at it, ensure that you have been killed off - you are useless to me as you are - your sinful self will prevent my greater glory, and oddly - will stop you living. You are worth more to me dead than alive - for when your zombie nature is killed, then you can be really alive, for I shall bring resurrection. This shadowland you currently live in is as nothing compared to the bright gloriousness of you as you are truly meant to be..."

....And still...fear remains.

But trust is essential - and obedience. I follow; he leads.

And even Jesus shrank away from the fact of his death. Even he, my Lord and King. Even he said - I am scared of death, but for God's glory, and his known purpose he set his face toward the cross.

And that is passiontide. The fixing of Jesus' face on the cross. It is where our eyes must also turn. We must look upon the horror and glory of the cross...and in our turn, follow.

O Love That Will Not Let Me Go

We've travelled a long way since last blogging...we've moved through the final day of Advent, through Christmas, Epiphany, some Ordinary time, and now we're well ensconced in Lent.

I'll be quite blunt. I'm really quite down at the minute - lots of externals in my life are going well, very well in some cases, but there are some personal problems bubbling along that are really tough to handle.

So I've been quite blessed - and comforted by the following hymn and its story:

The hymn 'O Love that will not let me go' was written by George Matheson.

'O Love That Will Not Let Me Go' was written on the evening of Matheson’s sister’s marriage.

His whole family had gone to the wedding and had left him alone. Quite odd you would suggest? And he writes of something which had happened to him that caused immense mental anguish.

There is a story of how years before, Matheson had been engaged. That was until his fiancé learned that he was going blind, and there was nothing the doctors could do. So she told him that she could not go through life with a blind man; and left him.

He went blind while studying for the ministry, and his sister had been the one who had taken care of him all these years, but now she too is gone.

Matheson had been a brilliant student, some say that if he hadn’t went blind he could have been the leader of the church of Scotland in his day. He had written a learned work on German theology and then wrote “The Growth of The Spirit of Christianity.” Louis Benson says this was a brilliant book but with some major mistakes in it. When some critics pointed out the mistakes and charged him with being an inaccurate student, he was heartbroken. One of his friends wrote, “When he saw that for the purposes of scholarship his blindness was a fatal hindrance, he withdrew from the field – not without pangs, but finally.”

So he turned to the pastoral ministry, and the Lord has richly blessed him, finally bringing him to a church where he regularly preached to over 1500 people each week.

But he was only able to do this because of the care of his sister and now she was married and gone.

Who will care for him, a blind man?

Not only that, but his sister’s marriage brought fresh reminder of his own heartbreak, over his fiancé’s refusal to “go through life with a blind man.”

It is the midst of this circumstance and intense sadness that the Lord gives him this hymn – written he says in 5 minutes! Looking back over his life, he once wrote that his was “an obstructed life, a circumscribed life… but a life of quenchless hopefulness, a life which has beaten persistently against the cage of circumstance, and which even at the time of abandoned work has said not “Good night” but “Good morning.”"

How could he maintain quenchless hopefulness in the midst of such circumstances and trials? His hymn gives us a clue.

“I trace the rainbow in the rain, and feel the promise is not vain” The rainbow image is a picture of the Lord’s commitment! It is a picture of the battle bow that appears when the skies are darkening and threaten to open up and flood the world again in judgment. But then we see that the battle bow is turned not towards us – but toward the Lord Himself!


O Love that will not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.


- Amen -



There's a beautiful modern version by Jason Sears on Spotify. There's also a great live version on Jason's blog.

I'm also grateful to igracemusic.com for informing me of this story.

Lament

Lent is not over until Easter day. There remains time to examine our lives and find God's guidance.

At our cell last night the astute point was made that, for some, Lent is a time of self-reflection and examination, which in turn leads to changes from Easter. Rather than give-up or take something up for Lent should, we not have the approach that Lent is a time to discover, through prayer and Bible study, those things that need permanent change.

The readings for evening prayer yesterday (Tuesday of Holy Week) included the following:

'Let us examine our ways and test them, and let us return to the LORD.
Let us lift up our hearts and our hands to God in heaven, and say:
"We have sinned and rebelled and you have not forgiven"' (Lamentations 3:40-42)

'My eyes will flow unceasingly, without relief, until the LORD looks down from heaven and sees' (Lam. 3:49-50)

As Jesus draws closer to the cross, and we are confronted with the enormity of His sacrifice, we must consider afresh those sins committed which are placed on Jesus. An unexamined life is not a life at all.

In a world that is so emotion averse, or more specifically, where negative emotions are shunned we must be a people that live close to tears and joy. Jesus, reports Luke, comes to Jerusalem to joyful acclaim (Luke 19:28-40), but is immediately driven to tears when he looks upon the city (Luke 19:41ff). Do we have this attitude? Are our tears heard by God, and seen by demons? Do we weep for our sin, for the sin of our loved ones, and our nation?

Tomorrow is Maundy Thursday. Many of us will be propelled along until Easter is upon us - will we grasp the opportunity to come to the cross, stop, be quiet and resolve to submit our lives to God?