Me, my calling, and a season of change

I believe God is calling me to be a priest.

Weird?!

Despite a life of ministry, leadership, and working for the church I've been taking seriously the nagging sense that God actually wants me to serve as a vicar.

But what does this mean? How have I been testing this call? And what's around the corner?

I'll deal with the last question first...

What's coming around the corner

In three weeks time I will be attending a BAP. That's a Bishops' Advisory Panel, which is a 48 hour residential where 'candidates' go to test their vocation to be ordained in the Church of England. My friend, Bryony, has written a brilliant blog on what her experience of a BAP was like. It also helpfully explains the activities, which I won't reproduce here. The BAP examines me and will make a decision whether or not to recommend me for training (Nb. it's not a recommendation for ordination as such...just that I should be allowed to train in the hope they let me get ordained, although in practice it's generally one and the same thing). I might not get recommended, but I am confident that God is calling me.

Like Bryony, I'm going to Shallowford, which is a retreat house.

My BAP date is 28th-30th April.

The BAP comes at the end of a LONG process that has been going on locally; a discernment process in which I and others examine my sense of calling. It is a season of testing.

How have I been testing this call

Since April 2013 I have been under the supervision of what's called a Diocesan Director of Ordinands (or DDO for short). An 'ordinand' (by the way) is a candidate for ordination: a trainee priest. My DDO, Ann, has been amazing. She has the difficult task of working with me to discern my sense of calling to a vocation as a priest.

However, before I saw my DDO, and for many years prior, I has already been sensing God calling me. Often folk in church (and lots not in church too) would say to me things like 'You'd be a great vicar' or 'have you thought about being a vicar'...or words to that effect. Alongside my own sense of God's voice calling me, these external voices have been encouraging and haven't stopped. Even in the last fortnight I've had people affirm my sense of vocation. People see something in me, which I must admit I sometimes don't!

After all these friendly voices, I've then chatted to vicars themselves. Mostly, my old vicar, Denise, from St Augustine's in Bradford, but after joining Pudsey Parish Church I've been chatting and exploring my calling with the vicar, Paul.

With approval and encouragement from these 'professionals' I was referred to see the DDO.

Well...actually...that's not strictly true.

The Diocese (the geographical patch under the care of a Bishop) through my DDO already knew me and my background, including a significant bereavement, so they suggested I see a counsellor for a season, which ended up lasting a year. The counselling also included Jen, my wife. This was enormously important for us. It helped us work through baggage and emotional trauma from our past, whilst also examining our behaviours, individually and as a couple, and what we might need to do to protect ourselves from the ravages of stress, pressure in ministry, and the need to balance our work-home arrangements. I would recommend everyone spend some time with a counsellor, simply to help you make space to 'know thyself'.

Only after our counsellor felt it appropriate did the Diocese consider testing my vocation in any depth. Please don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting the counsellor had to sign me off as having a 'clean bill of health' but that I was emotionally ready and able to withstand some of the pressures the discernment process might throw up, and some that might come in ministry.

In April 2013, I met my DDO for the first time. Since then we have met regularly to discuss different aspects of ministry, examine my experience and knowledge of the requirements and expectations of ordinands...

Within this process there's been other 'stuff' too...
- I wrote a biography of my life, including all the significant events.
- I produced an overview of my spiritual journey, which referenced much of my biographical material but examined how my relationship with God and my spirituality and faith have grown
- I wrote reflections on all nine of the criteria (there's a summary of the nine criteria here)
- Started meeting with a Spiritual Director, who I will continue to see
- I have had interviews at potential theological colleges, which included application forms
- 'Ministry Assessments': three separate interviews with local vicars who I didn't know. These were gruelling and threw up some surprising observations about my character and understanding.
- Meeting with the Bishop to discuss the assessments, and consider their concerns

Then there's a whole heap of preparation for the BAP itself...
- The multi-paged Registration Form
- Reflection on some aspect of mission (500-750 words)
- Prepare my BAP Presentation
- There were also FOUR references to be obtained (so not technically my work, but chewing over their content has been testing emotionally...it's so hard to read how other people perceive your strengths and weaknesses)
- Visit a counsellor for a pre-BAP session, in which we consider what might happen if I do not get recommended.
- Finally, Ann, my DDO, completes a lengthy 'Sponsoring Papers' in which she offers her observations

Phew!....

I hope you get the sense of how rigorous and thorough this process has been.

Alongside all this, we're also trying to sell our house and raise a three year old...

I feel enormous respect for ANYONE who puts themselves through this process (and I should add that my description is peculiar to me...different people may have a different journey, and different dioceses will have a variable approach...)

So what?

I've been asked today what effect this process has had on my relationship with God.

I cannot hope to explain in full the impact this season of discernment has had on my life. Right at the outset, two years ago, when I first chatted to the Bishop, he explained that I would come to realise that the process was good in and of itself. I was, at the time, uncertain what he meant. But looking back over the last two years I can honestly say I feel closer to God and my family, clearer in my understanding of what a priest is and how my individual constellation of gifts, experiences and personality fits me for that role. I am so much more comfortable in my skin - happier with what is good and determined to tackle my weaknesses. My prayer life is richer and more settled. My reading and thinking life has gone into hyperdrive - and I love it!

And yet, strangely, I am far more convinced of my non-vicar duties than before. God has been teaching me that ordained ministry aside, I am the only person on this planet called and equipped to be Husband to Jen, and Father to Elijah. No-one else is called to these unique roles. Only me.

Which is a profoundly exciting and scary realisation.

The whole thing has brought me closer to my wife and son.

But better still closer to God. And in that deepening intimacy, I have come to know myself better. I am able to be me with courage.

You?

So why did I bother to write all this down.

Chiefly, I want to let people know that I have this BAP coming. And I would welcome your prayers. I will need them. I want God's will to be done.

The 'results' will be known a week and a half after I get back, and naturally I am praying God is calling me to train for ordained ministry.

However, if I get a no, I am at peace about this too. For I have grown in this process and would know that I have a loving God and a loving family/friends around me to help make sense of the outcome.

And, finally, I will still say the prayer that has become my 'mantra' by Igantius of Loyola

Teach us, good Lord, to serve you as you deserve;

 to give and not to count the cost;

 to fight and not to heed the wounds;

 to toil and not to seek for rest;

 to labour and not to seek for any reward,

 save that of knowing that we do your will.

AMEN.

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.

Open to the best

From 'Daily Advent Reflections' by Nick Fawcett, which I've borrowed from the Bradford Diocesan Resource Centre:


"Advent calls us to prepare for the worst in that it counsels us to examine our lifestyles, to consider our discipleship, and to reflect on who and what we are, gauging whether we have responded from the heart to the challenge of the good news. Yet it calls us also, not simply to hope for the best but to expect it, confident that having responded, and despite the fact that we still repeatedly fail to follow Christ as faithfully as we would like, all things will ultimately work together for good with those who love him." (p.32)

You may want to read Romans 8:28,38-39 for some context.

Coming, Confidence and Candles

I attended the beautiful and haunting Advent Carol service at Bradford Cathedral last night. Many folk love a Christmas Carol service, but there's much more drama in the Advent version, which includes much more of the service conducted in near darkness. This meant that we were required to read our service sheets in the gloom, which initially proves quick tricky, but before too long my eyes had adjusted to the darkness around me and I could read the words to the carols with clarity.

And so it is with Advent.

As Christians we are obliged to take seriously the gloom and darkness that's around us. Darkness of unbelief (often in our own hearts), of sin, of sorrow, or grief, of pain, of loss, of a sense of being exiled in a hostile place, of not sensing where God is...and the darkness of our own death.

But we are called to read God's word carefully amidst this darkness. And one of the places we, as Anglicans, feel we can find God is in the pages of Isaiah.

During this Advent I'm setting myself a serious challenge. I want to blog every day: as a spiritual discipline. I want to really dig deep into Isaiah, and the lectionary has already done most of the hard work by weaving the majority of the book into morning and evening prayer for the coming season, and beyond into Christmas and Epiphany. Indeed, All Saintstide started us off. This means that bookending the Christian year is the glorious vision of Isaiah.

Yesterday morning, we read Isaiah 2:1-5 and I think we see the major Advent themes in these five verses: Coming, Confidence, and Candles.

Firstly, Coming.

The word, "Come" appears four times (v.2, 3, 5):
"In days to come" - a future perspective
"Many people shall come" - a future promise
"Come, let us go up" - an invitation to worship God
"Come let us walk" - an invitation loyalty and faithfulness to God

Many of us pray, every day, the Lord's prayer, which includes the line, "your kingdom come".

Now I don't know about you, but I find it helpful to linger sometimes on phrases or words in the Lord's prayer (this of course is only possible if you're in the habit of praying it on your own (and out loud)). I am always forced to think carefully what I'm praying for when I say 'your kingdom come', for this is not as straightforward as it might seem. After all, how many of us really truthfully want God's kingdom to come now, in all its glory? Would we be embarassed at what God might find?

But of course, we must pay attention to Isaiah. Where he says, "in days to come" it could refer to Jesus' first coming. Consider the promise of one who will 'judge' and 'arbitrate' (v.4). This has echoes in the great promise of Isaiah 9 and 11, that one is coming who will be the judge, one anointed by God. This Messianic hope in Isaiah is fulfilled in Jesus. And maybe Isaiah's talk of 'the mountain of the Lord's house' being raised up isn't so much an eschatological vision, as a metaphor for the cross of Christ?

Advent, then, is about coming: the Messiah born to reign and a returning Lord to usher in his completed kingdom. When we pray, 'your kingdom come' we are praying for both. There is that fervent hope (cranked up to fever pitch in Advent) that God would finally return, but also that renewed sense of how we need the saving work of Jesus, that his kingdom can begin to reign in our hearts, minds and lives.

So what?

I think we respond to this theme of Coming by inviting people to come too.

We encourage our brothers and sisters to keep on keeping on. How many of us have a Christian friend who needs to be invited back to church over the season? What a great opportunity.

But we also invite those who don't know Jesus. We do so much to celebrate but how much effort do we make to get folk there. And then when they come do we sparkle, shine and radiate that joy? Do we speak about the cross and resurrection at Christmas? Do we look to Jesus' promised return?

And I would also invite you to pray that ancient prayer, with all its multi-layered meanings, 'Come, Lord Jesus'.


Secondly, Confidence.

This brief passage is full of Hope. If Coming is the first big Advent theme, then Hope is the second.

And Hope is about much more than our future home with God in eternity - although this must come to dominate our prayers as we reflect more and more on the darkness of our own sin. We see a present hope that this world might be transformed... now.

We see the image of nations streaming to God's city, God's mountain.
We see the image of tools of war beaten to till the land.
We see men longing to worship.

But....(there's always a but)...we doubt it, don't we? We show an alarming lack of confidence in God when we doubt his ability to transform a fallen and falling world. We rob ourselves of hope when we expect nothing to happen, when we accept the status quo. We do this chiefly with our own lives: God can't do anything about this or that sin, or this situation...

Isaiah rebukes this apathy. We are called to an active, vibrant, obedient and confident hope. God has promised to act - and he will.

Isaiah speaks a lot about Israel - God's children. They are the leaving, breathing vehicle God works through and with to reach the world, which is why he's so angry about their sinfulness and apostasy. They were chosen to be the sign of hope, but they failed to live up this.

In the same way, the church of God, the body of Christ is to be that sign of Hope. We are to love and live for God.

So what?

Advent is a brilliant time to rethink how we engage with Church and the theme of Hope. What is it you hope for? What do you long for? Have you doubted God?
Spend some time as you read the promises of Isaiah to consider how you've become stuck in a rut with regard to worship and prayer.
How might your church reinhabit that role in its community as a sign of hope?


Thirdly, and finally, Candles.

We walk in a dark world, but we do so "in the light of the Lord" (v.5)

Okay...this may seem like a really weird theme to focus on, but consider how integral the theme of light is. We have candles, Christmas tree lights, and (where they're still affordable) we have civic decorations.

One of the major differences between Lent and Advent is light. In Lent, we get progressively more and more dark, as though hope is slowly draining, which all culminates on Good Friday with the horror of God's crucifixion. This darkness heightens in Passiontide and is sustained by a season of tough fasting.

Advent does the opposite - we should find ourselves getting steadily brighter and brighter.

In preparing for Advent this year, keen to be 'changed' by it, I got rather confused beginning to see Advent as a second Lent, a second opportunity to be tough on myself; I even considered giving things up (although I'm still trying to ration my chocolate intake!). I think this is also because I've been getting quite negative about my weaknesses. In fact, in a recent interview I genuinely struggled to list my strengths, my abilities, my light side.  You recall where I said (above) that the hope for eternity grows as we see more and more of the darkness of our own sin? Well, perhaps Advent is different from Lent in that we allow more and more of God's light, God's present activity to try and break in now.

Advent is about candles - and candles are about light; they're also about birthdays. Christmas and Birthdays are times for presents. Have you recently considered your gifts? Yes, the gift of Jesus, the light who has come into the world, into your world, but also the strengths, abilities and talents God has given you? This is a new thought for me. How might I use Advent to reflect on the light God has placed in me? We're so naturally inclined to be self-deprecating, to focus on our status as sinners, and not enough on our status as Saints.

And in thinking about gifts/presents, consider how Isaiah refers to the law and instruction - he's referring to God's word. We too have this inestimable gift - the Bible. One thing that struck me last night was how much Bible we read at the Carol service, how much was sung. We too must allow our lives to be saturated in God's word.

So what?

Well...spend time in Advent reflecting on Light. Get a candle and light it in your home, while you pray, while you eat...and let that candle stir memories of birthdays and Christmases gone, allow some light and joy to grow in you.
Also, commit more time this Advent to reading God's Bible. This is a great gift. Add an extra reading, or challenge yourself to read Isaiah, or start to read it with a family member, ensure Advent talk of Christmas is focused on the feast of the nativity, remind people of the Bible story. And have fun with it, make games...don't let the season rob joy from you. Play Frank Laubach's game of minutes - try to read more, to think more about God.
And finally, reflect on the light that is in you. You yourself are a great gift to the world.

Coming. Confidence. Candles.

Jesus. Hope. Light.

I hope and pray this Advent will be a time of rich joy, renewed hope and refreshing fellowship.




[There is a fourth theme to Advent that isn't covered in this passage, though. I think that a fourth C exists - COLOUR. We are aesthetic beings - we care about how things look - and colours are very evocative. The season has a focus on death so you might expect blacks to predominate, but instead we use purple, the colour of penitence. Although we allow bursts of kinder hues to break through, not least on the 3rd Sunday of Advent when we use a pink/rose candle (for Gaudete Sunday). And Isaiah reflects this spectrum. We find ourselves reading of judgment for sin in God's word against the nations (Chapters 13-23) but then quickly shift to kinder more hopeful themes in following chapters. Isaiah is often divided into two parts: chs 1-39 and 40-66: a book of judgment and a book of hope. And death is profoundly both of these things for a Christian - a judgment and hope]

The first Sunday of Advent

Advent Sunday is here!

    Now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed. (Romans 13:11)

 

   AWAKE—again the Gospel-trump is blown—

   From year to year it swells with louder tone,
      From year to year the signs of wrath
      Are gathering round the Judge’s path,
   Strange words fulfilled, and mighty works achieved,
   And truth in all the world both hated and believed.

   Awake! why linger in the gorgeous town,

   Sworn liegemen of the Cross and thorny crown?
      Up from your beds of sloth for shame,
      Speed to the eastern mount like flame,
   Nor wonder, should ye find your King in tears,
   E’en with the loud Hosanna ringing in His ears.

   Alas! no need to rouse them: long ago

   They are gone forth to swell Messiah’s show:
      With glittering robes and garlands sweet
      They strew the ground beneath His feet:
   All but your hearts are there—O doomed to prove
   The arrows winged in Heaven for Faith that will not love!

   Meanwhile He passes through th’ adoring crowd,

   Calm as the march of some majestic cloud,
      That o’er wild scenes of ocean-war
      Holds its still course in Heaven afar:
   E’en so, heart-searching Lord, as years roll on,
   Thou keepest silent watch from Thy triumphal throne:

E’en so, the world is thronging round to gaze

   On the dread vision of the latter days,
      Constrained to own Thee, but in heart
      Prepared to take Barabbas’ part:
   “Hosanna” now, to-morrow “Crucify,”
   The changeful burden still of their rude lawless cry.

   Yet in that throng of selfish hearts untrue

   Thy sad eye rests upon Thy faithful few,
      Children and childlike souls are there,
      Blind Bartimeus’ humble prayer,
   And Lazarus wakened from his four days’ sleep,
   Enduring life again, that Passover to keep.

   And fast beside the olive-bordered way

   Stands the blessed home where Jesus deigned to stay,
      The peaceful home, to Zeal sincere
      And heavenly Contemplation dear,
   Where Martha loved to wait with reverence meet,
   And wiser Mary lingered at Thy sacred feet.

   Still through decaying ages as they glide,

   Thou lov’st Thy chosen remnant to divide;
      Sprinkled along the waste of years
      Full many a soft green isle appears:
   Pause where we may upon the desert road,
   Some shelter is in sight, some sacred safe abode.

   When withering blasts of error swept the sky,

   And Love’s last flower seemed fain to droop and die,
      How sweet, how lone the ray benign
      On sheltered nooks of Palestine!
   Then to his early home did Love repair,
   And cheered his sickening heart with his own native air.

   Years roll away: again the tide of crime

   Has swept Thy footsteps from the favoured clime
      Where shall the holy Cross find rest?
      On a crowned monarch’s mailèd breast:
   Like some bright angel o’er the darkling scene,
   Through court and camp he holds his heavenward course serene.

   A fouler vision yet; an age of light,

   Light without love, glares on the aching sight:
      Oh, who can tell how calm and sweet,
      Meek Walton, shows thy green retreat,
   When wearied with the tale thy times disclose,
   The eye first finds thee out in thy secure repose?

   Thus bad and good their several warnings give

   Of His approach, whom none may see and live:
      Faith’s ear, with awful still delight,
      Counts them like minute-bells at night.
   Keeping the heart awake till dawn of morn,
   While to her funeral pile this aged world is borne.

But what are Heaven’s alarms to hearts that cower

   In wilful slumber, deepening every hour,
      That draw their curtains closer round,
      The nearer swells the trumpet’s sound?
   Lord, ere our trembling lamps sink down and die,
   Touch us with chastening hand, and make us feel Thee nigh.


By John Keble taken from 'The Christian Year' found online here.