Sunday Morning’s Sermon: Prayer (1): The Lord’s Prayer

Luke 11:1-4

Introduction
Today is one of those rare Sundays when you have the misfortune to hear me
preach twice. Not only do we have this morning service, I am also the preacher
at tonight’s united service. That means two things: firstly, you have advance
notice, and if I see fewer than usual Methodists present this evening, I shall
guess why! Secondly, it means I have to write two sermons for today!

Now since both services are taking today’s Lectionary Gospel
reading of Luke 11:1-13, I
have decided to divide the passage in the following way. This morning I shall
explore the first four verses, where we have Luke’s account of the Lord’s
Prayer. This evening I shall look at verses five to thirteen, where Jesus gives
further teaching on prayer: the parable of the friend at midnight, and the
ask-seek-knock poem.

I feel encouraged to spend two sermons exploring prayer
after comments someone made last Monday night at our open meeting. I gather
several preachers have been mentioning prayer recently. Prayer has also been an
important theme in our discussions about mission, and we agreed on Monday
evening to set up regular gatherings for prayer, and explore occasional church
‘quiet days’.

So, then, this morning, to the Lord’s Prayer. But how can
you deal with the Lord’s Prayer in one sermon? In the past I have preached a
series of sermons on it; I have given a seminar on what it might mean in
today’s [post-modern] culture[1];
and I have given an academic lecture
on one petition in a series. There is so much in the Lord’s Prayer, and perhaps
we shall never plumb all its depths before glory!

However, the approach I am going to take this morning is
simpler. Much as I would like to preach a series on it, that is not practical
when I only get to preach here once a month. And I can’t split the Lord’s
Prayer into two halves, one this morning and the second tonight: that wouldn’t
be fair on the Anglicans and Salvationists this evening. I have opted to do
this: I simply want to examine what Luke’s account of the Lord’s Prayer tells
us about the character of God. I have identified six characteristics of God in the
Lord’s Prayer. That means only very brief comments about each of them!

1. Father
‘When you pray, say: Father’ (verse 2).

You can’t read the word ‘Father’ as applied to God in the
New Testament without the background of knowing that Jesus and Paul interpreted
this as the Aramaic word abba, the
affectionate word a small child used for their father. ‘Daddy’ might not quite
capture it in English, but it’s as close as we might get.

So for me, as one who came to fatherhood later than most, I can’t
help but think of a smiling daughter or son exclaiming, ‘Daddy!’ and running to
kiss me, throw arms around my legs or jump on my lap. Sometimes I think there
is nothing better in the world than those moments.

In that respect, I see Jesus introducing prayer as an
address to ‘Abba/Father’ as a sign that prayer is not a duty but a welcome. Not
that prayer is always exciting, but it is a place of warmth, a place of the
Father’s embrace.

But sometimes prayer to the Father does mean joy and
excitement. On Friday morning, Rebekah came back with Debbie from the end of
her weeklong summer holiday swimming crash course with two certificates. Her progress
had been fantastic. We decided to reward her with chocolate for one certificate
and an ice cream for the other. So, too, when members of God’s family come to
the Father, it is a place to celebrate joy, to weep together in pain and to
embrace mundane things. In that simplicity prayer begins.

2. Holy
Just because we begin with the welcoming nature of the Father does not mean
that we reduce prayer to a chatty mateyness:

When you pray, say:
Father, hallowed be your name.
(verse 2)

To hallow God’s name of ‘Father’ is, perhaps, the positive
New Testament restatement of the Old Testament prohibition of blasphemy. God’s
name is to be honoured, not defamed. For that we pray.

What exactly are we praying, though? It’s more than our
upset when someone uses the name of God as a swearword. It’s more than the
casual way in which we might attribute something to God without being careful: ‘God
said this’ – are you sure?

We pray that God’s name will be hallowed in our lives and
among us as a Christian community. It is thus prayer that we might have a
credible witness. It is prayer that we might be more worthy ambassadors for God’s
kingdom, that we will bring credit to his name, not dishonour.

And it is prayer for God’s name to be hallowed by others. In
that sense, this is a prayer for evangelism. As I said, it isn’t simply a
prayer against blasphemers; it is a
prayer for blasphemers and others – a
prayer that will find the joy of this wonderful Father. And when they do, they
will want to honour him in word and deed.

If we want to hallow God’s name, we shall want to be people
who are good news to others, good news in the name of the Father. Can we pray
that for our lives? Who are the people in our orbit for whom we are praying
that they might find the Father?

3. King
Let’s take it a bit further:

When you pray, say:
Father, hallowed be your name.
   Your kingdom come.
(verse 2)

The Father whose name we honour because it is holy is also a
king. He has a kingdom. He is the focus of the kingdom of God. The kingdom,
which we long to see coming, is not so much about us as about the king acting
with kingly power.

This is to say, Lord, there is nothing we desire more than to
see everything in creation line up with your will. (Which is why in Matthew’s
version, ‘Your kingdom come’ is paired with ‘Your will be done on earth as in
heaven.’)

‘Your kingdom come’ is language of petition and intercession.
We petition the Father that we might have the grace to do his will. And of course,
he answers that! He does not call us to do something and leave us without the
spiritual resources in his Holy Spirit to fulfil his desires for us. To pray ‘Your
kingdom come’ and mean it is to take our oath of allegiance to our Father who
is also our King.

Granted, ‘kingdom’ language may be more difficult today when
monarchs have only symbolic power. Brian
McLaren
has
suggested
we speak instead of the ‘revolution
of God
’. We are signing up for the revolution. That is a revolution in our
lives, and a revolution for the whole of creation. It is prayer for healing,
justice, and an end to poverty and war. The kingdom has begun to come in Jesus
himself, and we see it coming more when God performs his will; we pray for its
fuller coming.

4. Giver
Next we pray,

Give us each day our daily bread.
(verse 3)

Daily bread?
Surely God isn’t that concerned with physical and material things, is he?
Shouldn’t we just pray about ‘spiritual’ affairs? Should we not see this as a
request for the bread of heaven, the bread of life?

If you think that, let me take you to a village rubbish tip
just west of the River Nile, at a place called Oxyrhynchus. A hundred years
ago, some papyri were discovered. In 1925, a Swiss professor found the word
translated ‘daily’ here on a shopping list that also included chickpeas and
straw. As Jesus called people to pray for their daily bread, mothers were
sending teenage boys on errands to the baker’s, telling them to make sure they were
sold today’s bread, not yesterday’s stale bread.[2]

Jesus and the Father are very
interested in our material needs being met. Do not be ashamed about bringing
those basic needs to God. It is all part of his fatherly concern. I would not
see my children lack food or clothes. The heavenly Father feels the same, if
not more.

And in that respect, he often enlists us in answering these
prayers in others. Therefore, as we
struggle
to
find good news
in the midst of the current floods in the UK,
it was heartening to see news footage the other night of a church giving out
free bottled water. The Father longs to meet the needs of his children, so he
encourages us to pray. However, he also enlists us as his agents to take what others
need to them, and to change those structures and policies in the world that
prevent others receiving what they need.

5. Forgiver
And so to perhaps the hardest words Jesus ever uttered (and there is plenty of
competition for that accolade):

And forgive us our sins,
     for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
(verse 4)

I could spend a whole sermon on these words. I find it
curious but understandable that it is easy for us to pray, ‘forgive us our
sins,’ and we do that regularly – not least in confession during public
worship. However, rarely do we connect our confession with our commitment to
forgive others. Although one is sure to exist, I have yet to find a liturgy for
confession that ties the two together.

How do we tie our desire for forgiveness together with the
call for us to forgive? Our forgiveness is not just something we experience in
the present: it is something we shall hear at the Last Judgment. Because we
know we shall be forgiven, we forgive now.

But that still needs grace! How many of us find it easy to
forgive? Few of us, I would guess. ‘Forgive us our sins as we forgive’ can be a
way of asking the Father to show us things from his perspective. When we look
at the Cross of Christ, and when we think of what God has forgiven us, then the
barriers begin to tumble. So we pray for that divine insight, that heavenly
revelation that puts our petty refusals to forgive into the perspective they
deserve. And when we forgive, we are a sign of God’s grace to the watching world.

6. Deliverer
The final petition is,

And do not bring us to the time of trial.
(verse 4)

I think that’s a preferable translation to ‘Lead us not into
temptation’ (which at very least requires the corresponding ‘But deliver us
from the evil one’ that is missing from the best manuscripts of Luke). However,
even these words have their problems. What kind of trials? Are we always
delivered from them? Clearly, Christians do go through trials in their lives,
and some of them quite vicious – note the missionary nurses and teachers from
South Korea being held hostage
by the Taliban in Afghanistan. One of the twenty-three has already been executed.

Certainly, God sometimes allows us to face trials we would
have ruled out beforehand, but he graciously sustains in ways we could not have
imagined. Perhaps this prayer is that we might not face trials beyond our
ability to endure. If so, it is a salvation prayer – not salvation from our
sins, but salvation from being sinned-against.

God our Deliverer is in process of bringing a comprehensive
salvation as he ushers in his kingdom. Deliverance is not only in terms of
forgiveness, it also comes in the shape of holiness, as we are delivered from
the practice of sin, and in terms of justice and righteousness as he delivers
his creation from the presence of sin and its effect on victims. ‘Do not bring
us to the time of trial’ unites us with Christians around the world and down
the centuries, the majority of whom have suffered for their faith, but who one
day will be vindicated by God.

Conclusion
And that is where it ends: the prayer that began with a child sitting on Daddy’s
lap ends with the new creation, where there will be no more mourning or crying
or pain. May it be so soon. Come, Lord Jesus.


[1]
Seven pages of outline notes can be found here.

[2] On
this, see Eugene Peterson, Eat
This Book
, p149f.

Technorati Tags: , , , , ,

Sunday Morning’s Sermon: Prayer (1): The Lord’s Prayer

Luke 11:1-4

Introduction
Today is one of those rare Sundays when you have the misfortune to hear me
preach twice. Not only do we have this morning service, I am also the preacher
at tonight’s united service. That means two things: firstly, you have advance
notice, and if I see fewer than usual Methodists present this evening, I shall
guess why! Secondly, it means I have to write two sermons for today!

Now since both services are taking today’s Lectionary Gospel
reading of Luke 11:1-13, I
have decided to divide the passage in the following way. This morning I shall
explore the first four verses, where we have Luke’s account of the Lord’s
Prayer. This evening I shall look at verses five to thirteen, where Jesus gives
further teaching on prayer: the parable of the friend at midnight, and the
ask-seek-knock poem.

I feel encouraged to spend two sermons exploring prayer
after comments someone made last Monday night at our open meeting. I gather
several preachers have been mentioning prayer recently. Prayer has also been an
important theme in our discussions about mission, and we agreed on Monday
evening to set up regular gatherings for prayer, and explore occasional church
‘quiet days’.

So, then, this morning, to the Lord’s Prayer. But how can
you deal with the Lord’s Prayer in one sermon? In the past I have preached a
series of sermons on it; I have given a seminar on what it might mean in
today’s [post-modern] culture[1];
and I have given an academic lecture
on one petition in a series. There is so much in the Lord’s Prayer, and perhaps
we shall never plumb all its depths before glory!

However, the approach I am going to take this morning is
simpler. Much as I would like to preach a series on it, that is not practical
when I only get to preach here once a month. And I can’t split the Lord’s
Prayer into two halves, one this morning and the second tonight: that wouldn’t
be fair on the Anglicans and Salvationists this evening. I have opted to do
this: I simply want to examine what Luke’s account of the Lord’s Prayer tells
us about the character of God. I have identified six characteristics of God in the
Lord’s Prayer. That means only very brief comments about each of them!

1. Father
‘When you pray, say: Father’ (verse 2).

You can’t read the word ‘Father’ as applied to God in the
New Testament without the background of knowing that Jesus and Paul interpreted
this as the Aramaic word abba, the
affectionate word a small child used for their father. ‘Daddy’ might not quite
capture it in English, but it’s as close as we might get.

So for me, as one who came to fatherhood later than most, I can’t
help but think of a smiling daughter or son exclaiming, ‘Daddy!’ and running to
kiss me, throw arms around my legs or jump on my lap. Sometimes I think there
is nothing better in the world than those moments.

In that respect, I see Jesus introducing prayer as an
address to ‘Abba/Father’ as a sign that prayer is not a duty but a welcome. Not
that prayer is always exciting, but it is a place of warmth, a place of the
Father’s embrace.

But sometimes prayer to the Father does mean joy and
excitement. On Friday morning, Rebekah came back with Debbie from the end of
her weeklong summer holiday swimming crash course with two certificates. Her progress
had been fantastic. We decided to reward her with chocolate for one certificate
and an ice cream for the other. So, too, when members of God’s family come to
the Father, it is a place to celebrate joy, to weep together in pain and to
embrace mundane things. In that simplicity prayer begins.

2. Holy
Just because we begin with the welcoming nature of the Father does not mean
that we reduce prayer to a chatty mateyness:

When you pray, say:
Father, hallowed be your name.
(verse 2)

To hallow God’s name of ‘Father’ is, perhaps, the positive
New Testament restatement of the Old Testament prohibition of blasphemy. God’s
name is to be honoured, not defamed. For that we pray.

What exactly are we praying, though? It’s more than our
upset when someone uses the name of God as a swearword. It’s more than the
casual way in which we might attribute something to God without being careful: ‘God
said this’ – are you sure?

We pray that God’s name will be hallowed in our lives and
among us as a Christian community. It is thus prayer that we might have a
credible witness. It is prayer that we might be more worthy ambassadors for God’s
kingdom, that we will bring credit to his name, not dishonour.

And it is prayer for God’s name to be hallowed by others. In
that sense, this is a prayer for evangelism. As I said, it isn’t simply a
prayer against blasphemers; it is a
prayer for blasphemers and others – a
prayer that will find the joy of this wonderful Father. And when they do, they
will want to honour him in word and deed.

If we want to hallow God’s name, we shall want to be people
who are good news to others, good news in the name of the Father. Can we pray
that for our lives? Who are the people in our orbit for whom we are praying
that they might find the Father?

3. King
Let’s take it a bit further:

When you pray, say:
Father, hallowed be your name.
   Your kingdom come.
(verse 2)

The Father whose name we honour because it is holy is also a
king. He has a kingdom. He is the focus of the kingdom of God. The kingdom,
which we long to see coming, is not so much about us as about the king acting
with kingly power.

This is to say, Lord, there is nothing we desire more than to
see everything in creation line up with your will. (Which is why in Matthew’s
version, ‘Your kingdom come’ is paired with ‘Your will be done on earth as in
heaven.’)

‘Your kingdom come’ is language of petition and intercession.
We petition the Father that we might have the grace to do his will. And of course,
he answers that! He does not call us to do something and leave us without the
spiritual resources in his Holy Spirit to fulfil his desires for us. To pray ‘Your
kingdom come’ and mean it is to take our oath of allegiance to our Father who
is also our King.

Granted, ‘kingdom’ language may be more difficult today when
monarchs have only symbolic power. Brian
McLaren
has
suggested
we speak instead of the ‘revolution
of God
’. We are signing up for the revolution. That is a revolution in our
lives, and a revolution for the whole of creation. It is prayer for healing,
justice, and an end to poverty and war. The kingdom has begun to come in Jesus
himself, and we see it coming more when God performs his will; we pray for its
fuller coming.

4. Giver
Next we pray,

Give us each day our daily bread.
(verse 3)

Daily bread?
Surely God isn’t that concerned with physical and material things, is he?
Shouldn’t we just pray about ‘spiritual’ affairs? Should we not see this as a
request for the bread of heaven, the bread of life?

If you think that, let me take you to a village rubbish tip
just west of the River Nile, at a place called Oxyrhynchus. A hundred years
ago, some papyri were discovered. In 1925, a Swiss professor found the word
translated ‘daily’ here on a shopping list that also included chickpeas and
straw. As Jesus called people to pray for their daily bread, mothers were
sending teenage boys on errands to the baker’s, telling them to make sure they were
sold today’s bread, not yesterday’s stale bread.[2]

Jesus and the Father are very
interested in our material needs being met. Do not be ashamed about bringing
those basic needs to God. It is all part of his fatherly concern. I would not
see my children lack food or clothes. The heavenly Father feels the same, if
not more.

And in that respect, he often enlists us in answering these
prayers in others. Therefore, as we
struggle
to
find good news
in the midst of the current floods in the UK,
it was heartening to see news footage the other night of a church giving out
free bottled water. The Father longs to meet the needs of his children, so he
encourages us to pray. However, he also enlists us as his agents to take what others
need to them, and to change those structures and policies in the world that
prevent others receiving what they need.

5. Forgiver
And so to perhaps the hardest words Jesus ever uttered (and there is plenty of
competition for that accolade):

And forgive us our sins,
     for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
(verse 4)

I could spend a whole sermon on these words. I find it
curious but understandable that it is easy for us to pray, ‘forgive us our
sins,’ and we do that regularly – not least in confession during public
worship. However, rarely do we connect our confession with our commitment to
forgive others. Although one is sure to exist, I have yet to find a liturgy for
confession that ties the two together.

How do we tie our desire for forgiveness together with the
call for us to forgive? Our forgiveness is not just something we experience in
the present: it is something we shall hear at the Last Judgment. Because we
know we shall be forgiven, we forgive now.

But that still needs grace! How many of us find it easy to
forgive? Few of us, I would guess. ‘Forgive us our sins as we forgive’ can be a
way of asking the Father to show us things from his perspective. When we look
at the Cross of Christ, and when we think of what God has forgiven us, then the
barriers begin to tumble. So we pray for that divine insight, that heavenly
revelation that puts our petty refusals to forgive into the perspective they
deserve. And when we forgive, we are a sign of God’s grace to the watching world.

6. Deliverer
The final petition is,

And do not bring us to the time of trial.
(verse 4)

I think that’s a preferable translation to ‘Lead us not into
temptation’ (which at very least requires the corresponding ‘But deliver us
from the evil one’ that is missing from the best manuscripts of Luke). However,
even these words have their problems. What kind of trials? Are we always
delivered from them? Clearly, Christians do go through trials in their lives,
and some of them quite vicious – note the missionary nurses and teachers from
South Korea being held hostage
by the Taliban in Afghanistan. One of the twenty-three has already been executed.

Certainly, God sometimes allows us to face trials we would
have ruled out beforehand, but he graciously sustains in ways we could not have
imagined. Perhaps this prayer is that we might not face trials beyond our
ability to endure. If so, it is a salvation prayer – not salvation from our
sins, but salvation from being sinned-against.

God our Deliverer is in process of bringing a comprehensive
salvation as he ushers in his kingdom. Deliverance is not only in terms of
forgiveness, it also comes in the shape of holiness, as we are delivered from
the practice of sin, and in terms of justice and righteousness as he delivers
his creation from the presence of sin and its effect on victims. ‘Do not bring
us to the time of trial’ unites us with Christians around the world and down
the centuries, the majority of whom have suffered for their faith, but who one
day will be vindicated by God.

Conclusion
And that is where it ends: the prayer that began with a child sitting on Daddy’s
lap ends with the new creation, where there will be no more mourning or crying
or pain. May it be so soon. Come, Lord Jesus.


[1]
Seven pages of outline notes can be found here.

[2] On
this, see Eugene Peterson, Eat
This Book
, p149f.

Technorati Tags: , , , , ,

Sunday Morning’s Sermon: Prayer (1): The Lord’s Prayer

Luke 11:1-4

Introduction
Today is one of those rare Sundays when you have the misfortune to hear me
preach twice. Not only do we have this morning service, I am also the preacher
at tonight’s united service. That means two things: firstly, you have advance
notice, and if I see fewer than usual Methodists present this evening, I shall
guess why! Secondly, it means I have to write two sermons for today!

Now since both services are taking today’s Lectionary Gospel
reading of Luke 11:1-13, I
have decided to divide the passage in the following way. This morning I shall
explore the first four verses, where we have Luke’s account of the Lord’s
Prayer. This evening I shall look at verses five to thirteen, where Jesus gives
further teaching on prayer: the parable of the friend at midnight, and the
ask-seek-knock poem.

I feel encouraged to spend two sermons exploring prayer
after comments someone made last Monday night at our open meeting. I gather
several preachers have been mentioning prayer recently. Prayer has also been an
important theme in our discussions about mission, and we agreed on Monday
evening to set up regular gatherings for prayer, and explore occasional church
‘quiet days’.

So, then, this morning, to the Lord’s Prayer. But how can
you deal with the Lord’s Prayer in one sermon? In the past I have preached a
series of sermons on it; I have given a seminar on what it might mean in
today’s [post-modern] culture[1];
and I have given an academic lecture
on one petition in a series. There is so much in the Lord’s Prayer, and perhaps
we shall never plumb all its depths before glory!

However, the approach I am going to take this morning is
simpler. Much as I would like to preach a series on it, that is not practical
when I only get to preach here once a month. And I can’t split the Lord’s
Prayer into two halves, one this morning and the second tonight: that wouldn’t
be fair on the Anglicans and Salvationists this evening. I have opted to do
this: I simply want to examine what Luke’s account of the Lord’s Prayer tells
us about the character of God. I have identified six characteristics of God in the
Lord’s Prayer. That means only very brief comments about each of them!

1. Father
‘When you pray, say: Father’ (verse 2).

You can’t read the word ‘Father’ as applied to God in the
New Testament without the background of knowing that Jesus and Paul interpreted
this as the Aramaic word abba, the
affectionate word a small child used for their father. ‘Daddy’ might not quite
capture it in English, but it’s as close as we might get.

So for me, as one who came to fatherhood later than most, I can’t
help but think of a smiling daughter or son exclaiming, ‘Daddy!’ and running to
kiss me, throw arms around my legs or jump on my lap. Sometimes I think there
is nothing better in the world than those moments.

In that respect, I see Jesus introducing prayer as an
address to ‘Abba/Father’ as a sign that prayer is not a duty but a welcome. Not
that prayer is always exciting, but it is a place of warmth, a place of the
Father’s embrace.

But sometimes prayer to the Father does mean joy and
excitement. On Friday morning, Rebekah came back with Debbie from the end of
her weeklong summer holiday swimming crash course with two certificates. Her progress
had been fantastic. We decided to reward her with chocolate for one certificate
and an ice cream for the other. So, too, when members of God’s family come to
the Father, it is a place to celebrate joy, to weep together in pain and to
embrace mundane things. In that simplicity prayer begins.

2. Holy
Just because we begin with the welcoming nature of the Father does not mean
that we reduce prayer to a chatty mateyness:

When you pray, say:
Father, hallowed be your name.
(verse 2)

To hallow God’s name of ‘Father’ is, perhaps, the positive
New Testament restatement of the Old Testament prohibition of blasphemy. God’s
name is to be honoured, not defamed. For that we pray.

What exactly are we praying, though? It’s more than our
upset when someone uses the name of God as a swearword. It’s more than the
casual way in which we might attribute something to God without being careful: ‘God
said this’ – are you sure?

We pray that God’s name will be hallowed in our lives and
among us as a Christian community. It is thus prayer that we might have a
credible witness. It is prayer that we might be more worthy ambassadors for God’s
kingdom, that we will bring credit to his name, not dishonour.

And it is prayer for God’s name to be hallowed by others. In
that sense, this is a prayer for evangelism. As I said, it isn’t simply a
prayer against blasphemers; it is a
prayer for blasphemers and others – a
prayer that will find the joy of this wonderful Father. And when they do, they
will want to honour him in word and deed.

If we want to hallow God’s name, we shall want to be people
who are good news to others, good news in the name of the Father. Can we pray
that for our lives? Who are the people in our orbit for whom we are praying
that they might find the Father?

3. King
Let’s take it a bit further:

When you pray, say:
Father, hallowed be your name.
   Your kingdom come.
(verse 2)

The Father whose name we honour because it is holy is also a
king. He has a kingdom. He is the focus of the kingdom of God. The kingdom,
which we long to see coming, is not so much about us as about the king acting
with kingly power.

This is to say, Lord, there is nothing we desire more than to
see everything in creation line up with your will. (Which is why in Matthew’s
version, ‘Your kingdom come’ is paired with ‘Your will be done on earth as in
heaven.’)

‘Your kingdom come’ is language of petition and intercession.
We petition the Father that we might have the grace to do his will. And of course,
he answers that! He does not call us to do something and leave us without the
spiritual resources in his Holy Spirit to fulfil his desires for us. To pray ‘Your
kingdom come’ and mean it is to take our oath of allegiance to our Father who
is also our King.

Granted, ‘kingdom’ language may be more difficult today when
monarchs have only symbolic power. Brian
McLaren
has
suggested
we speak instead of the ‘revolution
of God
’. We are signing up for the revolution. That is a revolution in our
lives, and a revolution for the whole of creation. It is prayer for healing,
justice, and an end to poverty and war. The kingdom has begun to come in Jesus
himself, and we see it coming more when God performs his will; we pray for its
fuller coming.

4. Giver
Next we pray,

Give us each day our daily bread.
(verse 3)

Daily bread?
Surely God isn’t that concerned with physical and material things, is he?
Shouldn’t we just pray about ‘spiritual’ affairs? Should we not see this as a
request for the bread of heaven, the bread of life?

If you think that, let me take you to a village rubbish tip
just west of the River Nile, at a place called Oxyrhynchus. A hundred years
ago, some papyri were discovered. In 1925, a Swiss professor found the word
translated ‘daily’ here on a shopping list that also included chickpeas and
straw. As Jesus called people to pray for their daily bread, mothers were
sending teenage boys on errands to the baker’s, telling them to make sure they were
sold today’s bread, not yesterday’s stale bread.[2]

Jesus and the Father are very
interested in our material needs being met. Do not be ashamed about bringing
those basic needs to God. It is all part of his fatherly concern. I would not
see my children lack food or clothes. The heavenly Father feels the same, if
not more.

And in that respect, he often enlists us in answering these
prayers in others. Therefore, as we
struggle
to
find good news
in the midst of the current floods in the UK,
it was heartening to see news footage the other night of a church giving out
free bottled water. The Father longs to meet the needs of his children, so he
encourages us to pray. However, he also enlists us as his agents to take what others
need to them, and to change those structures and policies in the world that
prevent others receiving what they need.

5. Forgiver
And so to perhaps the hardest words Jesus ever uttered (and there is plenty of
competition for that accolade):

And forgive us our sins,
     for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
(verse 4)

I could spend a whole sermon on these words. I find it
curious but understandable that it is easy for us to pray, ‘forgive us our
sins,’ and we do that regularly – not least in confession during public
worship. However, rarely do we connect our confession with our commitment to
forgive others. Although one is sure to exist, I have yet to find a liturgy for
confession that ties the two together.

How do we tie our desire for forgiveness together with the
call for us to forgive? Our forgiveness is not just something we experience in
the present: it is something we shall hear at the Last Judgment. Because we
know we shall be forgiven, we forgive now.

But that still needs grace! How many of us find it easy to
forgive? Few of us, I would guess. ‘Forgive us our sins as we forgive’ can be a
way of asking the Father to show us things from his perspective. When we look
at the Cross of Christ, and when we think of what God has forgiven us, then the
barriers begin to tumble. So we pray for that divine insight, that heavenly
revelation that puts our petty refusals to forgive into the perspective they
deserve. And when we forgive, we are a sign of God’s grace to the watching world.

6. Deliverer
The final petition is,

And do not bring us to the time of trial.
(verse 4)

I think that’s a preferable translation to ‘Lead us not into
temptation’ (which at very least requires the corresponding ‘But deliver us
from the evil one’ that is missing from the best manuscripts of Luke). However,
even these words have their problems. What kind of trials? Are we always
delivered from them? Clearly, Christians do go through trials in their lives,
and some of them quite vicious – note the missionary nurses and teachers from
South Korea being held hostage
by the Taliban in Afghanistan. One of the twenty-three has already been executed.

Certainly, God sometimes allows us to face trials we would
have ruled out beforehand, but he graciously sustains in ways we could not have
imagined. Perhaps this prayer is that we might not face trials beyond our
ability to endure. If so, it is a salvation prayer – not salvation from our
sins, but salvation from being sinned-against.

God our Deliverer is in process of bringing a comprehensive
salvation as he ushers in his kingdom. Deliverance is not only in terms of
forgiveness, it also comes in the shape of holiness, as we are delivered from
the practice of sin, and in terms of justice and righteousness as he delivers
his creation from the presence of sin and its effect on victims. ‘Do not bring
us to the time of trial’ unites us with Christians around the world and down
the centuries, the majority of whom have suffered for their faith, but who one
day will be vindicated by God.

Conclusion
And that is where it ends: the prayer that began with a child sitting on Daddy’s
lap ends with the new creation, where there will be no more mourning or crying
or pain. May it be so soon. Come, Lord Jesus.


[1]
Seven pages of outline notes can be found here.

[2] On
this, see Eugene Peterson, Eat
This Book
, p149f.

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The Religious Right And Conservative Christianity

Pam BG has an excellent post on the deeply sub-Christian nature of the Religious Right (hat-tip to Dave Warnock). She rightly delineates the differences between the North American and British scenes. (I guess Pam has a special take on that, as an American who has long been resident here.)

If

the ‘Religious Right’ hold as core
to their belief system that human beings have a God-given right to
life, liberty and private property

then that needs a lot of questioning. ‘Life’: well, as an evangelical Christian (in the historic sense) I am pro-life. My basic stance on abortion is that it is generally wrong: it is the taking of life, not surgery on part of a woman’s anatomy. But to be in favour of life more widely puts one at odds with much of the Religious Right’s agenda. While I am no longer a pacifist, the easy promulgation of war and covert operations against rogue states is hardly pro-life. Nor is the support of economic policies that cause extreme poverty in nations where our TV news operations don’t regularly have cameras and reporters. Nor is the denial of global warming combined with an approach to creation that sees it as purely for our benefit, leading to environmental rape and further damage in the first instance for developing nations. So exactly how pro-life is the Religious Right? Not much, in my opinion.

‘Liberty’: well, that word needs careful nuancing. All too often its meaning is taken from Enlightenment roots in the French Revolution and American Constitution, and tends to mean ‘the freedom to do what I want.’ In contemporary consumer culture that makes an idol of the self (as I point out in my comment on Pam’s post). I am sovereign. But in biblical terms Christian liberty is something entirely different. It is being set free from these very things! It is to be set free from the self-centredness which is sin, so I can use my liberty in the service of God and humankind. If the Religious Right in the States and other places were promoting an agenda that saw thousands and millions of Christians waiving their own rights in order to transform the lives of others, I’d find them more credible. In fairness, too, ‘rights’ language is also misused by liberals and the left: witness the growing disillusionment in this country over the frequent invocation of Human Rights laws since the Government signed up to the European Convention (although also conversely, note how those who bemoan its use by others like to invoke it for themselves).

‘Private Property’: there is a thoughtful exchange of views between Pam and one of her commenters, Peter Kirk, on this one. It comes down to an issue that even if we do believe property or possessions are ours to make decisions about, they are not ultimately ours. They are a gift of God’s ‘common grace’ (if an Arminian can gladly use a Calvinist phrase!) and we are but stewards of them.’All things come from you, and of your own do we give you.’ I’d love to believe the Religious Right endorsed this, but I’d need some convincing.

All of which makes me glad for the diversity of evangelical Christianity in the UK. I am delighted to see TEAR Fund play a major rôle in campaigns against poverty, third world debt, climate change and so on.

Am I saying that no evangelical Christian should hold right-of-centre views? Absolutely not. I think of two friends who are active in the Conservative Christian Fellowship, and it makes sense, because they have particular passions about the sanctity of life and family issues. To my mind, biblical ethics cannot be confined to modern views of left and right. They tend to splurge across a range of political convictions. God is neither left nor right, as Jim Wallis has reminded people. Evangelical (as well as liberal and catholic) Christians are found across the political spectrum in the UK, and that makes sense to me.

But my limited experience of the North American scene is rather different. In 1995, when I visited the Toronto Airport church, I encountered one American who was shocked when I said I supported the idea of a welfare state. I quoted Genesis, about being my brother (and sister)’s keeper. Incredulously to me, he claimed that Scripture reserved the duty of care for the poor to the church – as if the church had the reserves to meet all society’s social needs, and non-Christians were not under any moral obligation in the eyes of God! Similarly, an English friend of mine moved to work in the States a few years ago. He is a scientist researching treatment for HIV/AIDS, and an evangelical-charismatic Christian. He found a church where he felt at home theologically, but was staggered by the assumption that it was an evangelical duty to vote for George W Bush, and almost tantamount to heresy even to comtemplate voting differently.

Pam, thank you again for such a thoughtful piece.

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Sweatshops In The Developing World

You don’t say:
Asda, Primark and Tesco accused over clothing factories | Special reports | Guardian Unlimited

And Tesco find excuses not to investigate.

This is a tough one for a couple like us on a stipend, with small children. The prices these chains sell kids’ clothes for are very appealing, especially when we are about to see our daughter start school. The ethical saving grace for us is that there have been some good deals at Marks and Spencer, whose fair trade reputation is improving.

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The Pope, The Latin Mass and Judaism

Pope’s move on Latin mass ‘a blow to Jews’ | Special reports | Guardian Unlimited(-)

Here’s a difficult one: the Pope is under fire from Jewish groups, because his willingness to allow the Latin Mass to be said again means that on Good Friday Catholics will pray for Jews to ‘be delivered from their darkness’ and converted to Catholicism. The rite calls for God to ‘lift the veil from the eyes’ of the Jews and to end ‘the blindness of that people so that they may acknowledge the light of your truth, which is Christ’.

Am I the only person to feel somewhere in the middle on this? As a Christian, I am a member of a missionary faith, and if I believe Christ is the light of the world, then I cannot but want anybody and everybody to know that. If the call is for conversion specifically to Catholicism (as it would have been pre-Vatican II), I obviously beg to differ, but I cannot deny even an unreformed Catholicism’s right to prosyletise and organise its spiritually appropriately, just as I would want to with my different convictions. There is also the question of how Christian converts from other faiths feel about moves to oppose evangelism across the faiths. In this specific case, there are many Jewish people who have concluded that Jesus is Messiah, and who will equally be upset.

At the same time, it is one thing to be committed to evangelism in principle, and it is another thing altogether how one goes about it. Here the history of Christian-Jewish relations especially bears upon the Jewish reaction to the Pope’s decision. The forced conversions of the past (for which today we condemn Islamists) and other atrocities understandably make Jewish people nervous about Christian evangelism. I want to pray that people may find the light of Christ, but one of the big problems is that we Christians are often those who have interposed darkness between people and his light. It simply isn’t right to cast liturgy and policy in terms that construe us as purely the goodies and everyone else as the baddies.

There are other problems with the Latin Mass, not least that it is in Latin. The Observer article linked to at the top of this post quotes a thirty-year-old Frenchman, Mathieu Mautin, on why he favours it. His reasons are illuminating:

‘I want my children to enjoy it too,’ Mautin said. ‘The liturgy creates
a universe that makes the mystery palpable. The fact that the priest
faces the altar signifies for us that he is leading the people of God.’

Everything about that is curious to me. I welcome the idea that liturgy creates a universe of palpable mystery. It is frequently missing in the clinical, rationalist worship of Protestants (can I still use that word?). There is a recovery of concern for a sense of mystery in alternative worship and emerging church circles. But mystery by putting things in a language that is not ‘a tongue understanded of the people’, as the English Reformers put it, defeats biblical worship. Paul’s very point in 1 Corinthians 14 about tongues and prophecy is that in public worship the content has to be understood by those present. We have to introduce mystery into worship differently – by symbolism and the creative arts, for example.

My other concern is Mautin’s notion of Christian leadership. If the priest faces the altar as a sign of leadership it means his back is to the people. For a Brit this is culturally rude – perhaps it isn’t in other places. But it codifies a sense of ‘Catch up with me.’ The leader on this model is Moses coming down from Sinai with the tablets, where no-one else has the same level of access to God. It stands for a deeply unreformed Catholicism.

At the same time the problem cannot be solved simply by the priest turning to face the congregation. That still gives what Alan Hirsch and others call a ‘Christendom’ model of church, where most of the Body of Christ are passive, watching a performance. In some congregations, woe betide the preacher who makes a gaffe and mistakenly thinks that we’re all family together. In today’s western culture, as Hirsch points out in ‘The Forgotten Ways‘, it makes the congregation into consumers, with all the attendant idolatry. Church leaders must not only face the congregation, but be part of it. Unlike Hirsch I still think there is some place for certain Sunday services that are led from the front – there are issues of group dynamics and how we use particular gifts that lead me to that conclusion. However his basic point is right, and in any case leadership is something that is led, not simply spoken. We could all do with a measure of self-examination.

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Tomorrow’s Sermon: The Conspiracy Of The Insignificant

2 Kings
5:1-14

Introduction
In early 2005, we realised that Debbie’s car, a Peugeot 306, was no longer
going to be functional as family car. It was insufficiently like the Tardis to
cope with the amount of clutter we needed to cart around with two small
children. Through friends and family, we were quickly converted to the virtues
of a ‘people-carrier’.

We short-listed three different cars: a Vauxhall
Zafira
, Renault
Scenic
and a Citroen
Picasso
. Despite three recommendations for the Zafira, we eliminated it as
too expensive and with too small a boot.

That left the Scenic and the Picasso. For a while, we couldn’t
tell the difference between them in appearance, but we settled on the Picasso and
once we bought one we found that whenever we were out we were always spotting
Picassos on the road. Had they suddenly increased in number once we became
interested in them? No; we had simply become more tuned into them.

Sometimes I find reading the Bible is like that. It isn’t until
I get interested in a particular issue that I realise how much of the Bible
reflects that concern, or is relevant to it.

I had one of those experiences this last week. You will know
by now that one of my concerns is how we are faithful Christian witnesses in a
society where Christianity is no longer central, but on the margins. We live in
a culture whose values have been changing rapidly in recent decades. The Gospel
may not change, but many of our old ways of being church have become obsolete.

I have read the story of Naaman and his healing since Sunday
School. Perhaps you have, too. However, this week when it came up in the Lectionary
I found it was no longer a charming Sunday School story. It was a model for
mission in today’s world. I see it, because the story is set in a time when
Israel was under the cosh from Aram (verses 1-2). A pagan nation with alien
values has mastery over the people of God. Within these strictures, fruitful
mission happens – just as it can in our day when forces are pushing the church to
the margins of society. This week we saw the church-state ties loosened as
Gordon Brown relinquished
some powers
over the appointment of bishops other senior clergy. It opens
up again the whole issue of the Church of England’s established status – and in
my Methodist opinion, that’s a good thing.

So in this context, where the church is less central to our
society, how does the story of Naaman encourage us in our mission? I find it by
exploring the three Israelite characters connected with him: the slave girl,
the king of Israel and Elisha.

1. The Slave Girl
How many of us were shocked by the news a couple of days ago that a
three-year-old girl was kidnapped in Nigeria?
Perhaps we need to think of something like that to understand the horror of
what happened when this young girl was taken captive by the Arameans in 2 Kings
5. Granted, she is probably older than three, given the way she speaks, and
neither is she being threatened by death. However, if you want a sense of the
horror, think Nigeria.

Yet in this situation of trauma and oppression, the young
girl is a star:

She said to her mistress, ‘If only my lord were with the
prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.’ (verse 3)

Here is a wounded, marginalised person offering love. Here
is one who as both child and female has no status, yet she offers love. Forgiving
love and compassion for one who has done wrong to her, her family, her religion
and nation. Truly, a little child leads here, as she blesses an enemy.

How does this translate for us? Isn’t one of the dangers of
being a minority that has been sidelined more and more that all we want to do
is carp and snipe at the society that has done this to us? We criticise this,
we declaim about that and we lay into something else. If we’re good, we pretend
we are offering a prophetic critique of the world, but if only we were. More likely,
we are laying bare the chip on our shoulder and giving energy to the resentment
we feel that people no longer see the church as an institution whose opinions
should be sought and respected.

The young slave girl says, bless those who have done this to
you. Look for ways to love and serve them. Search out opportunities to tell
them the good news – not that God can’t
wait to singe them in Hell, but that he is crazy with love for them and
passionate that they find him.

When I ministered in Kent, there was a branch of Ottakar’s bookshops
in Chatham High Street. They regularly displayed and promoted occult books. Alongside
the display there was sometimes the opportunity to sign up for occult meetings.
I shared this with a prayer meeting. The response was interesting. I thought
they would be the kind of Christians who would want to instigate a prayer march
against the shop, and perhaps a letter-writing campaign, too. They didn’t.
Their immediate response was to pray that God would bless the shop and its
employees, because that would be a better way of making a gospel difference.

For us, our ‘Naaman’ might be an unpleasant boss at work. What
might happen if we showed Christian love and concern for that boss’s needs and
difficulties? Or today’s Naaman could be an unjust political group or multinational
corporation. How might we show the love of Christ to them? (And this is the end
of International Boycott Nestlé Week!)

I am not saying we should never criticise or boycott, but we
have to be sure our motive is God’s love, not vindictiveness. The slave girl reminds
us to love and make a difference.

2. The King Of Israel
Naaman goes to his king, who prepares a letter for his opposite number, the
king of Israel. Leave aside for a moment the naïveté that assumes the Israelite
king can heal the soldier. We have to excuse that as innocent ignorance: it’s
something Christians encounter often from people who make requests of them. I often
find it comes in terms of expecting that the minister can do something, which
another Christian can’t. There is no point in criticising this: we cannot
expect complete understanding of our ways.

What is more disappointing is the king of Israel’s response.
He doesn’t give a theological lecture – that would be bad enough. Instead, he
goes on the defensive:

When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes
and said, ‘Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to
cure a man of his leprosy?
Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.’ (verse 7)

The king of Israel cannot see human need for what it is and
respond appropriately. It is as if he knows the story of the Trojan Horse and
sees Naaman’s illness as the way in which Israel will be further weakened.

Is that so far from some of our responses as a Christian
minority today? I don’t think so. There are those who think we shouldn’t
support environmental causes, because we become ‘guilty by association’ with
some crazy green campaigners who happen to think that planet Earth is actually
a goddess named Gaia, and we shouldn’t get our names tarnished by working with
such fruitcakes. The fact that there is ample biblical material for being
environmentally conscious should be enough: God calls us to be stewards of the
earth, not rapists of it.

Alternatively, consider how long it took some Christians to
become concerned with fighting HIV/AIDS, because of its association with sexual
practices that lie outside traditional Christian morality. Thank God that
mentality has changed through the example of organisations like ACET AND TEAR
Fund
, who hold orthodox Christian beliefs, but are at the forefront of
medical prevention and political campaigning.

In a world packed with terrible needs, it would be spiritual
suicide to follow the example of the king of Israel. It’s no good getting on
our high horse about certain moral evils in our society, but doing nothing to
heal the pain.

But let’s bring it close and personal. Who are the people we
know, who have made a mess of their lives, perhaps through their own fault, but
whom we have been resisting the idea of helping? Is now the time to see that we
have made a mistake and need to reach out with Christian compassion? For Debbie
and me recently it’s been about being available to two pregnant women: one is
living with her partner and already has one child by him, the other had a
second child on her own without ongoing involvement from the father of either
child. Neither of these women lives lifestyles with which we agree as
Christians. However, would it surprise you if I told you that one of these
mothers is now asking questions about baptism?

3. Elisha
Surely the story is going to end up with Elisha performing an amazing miracle. It
builds up that way. The slave girl calls him ‘the prophet who is in Samaria
[who] would cure [Naaman] of his leprosy’ (verse 3). The writer of 2 Kings
describes Elisha as ‘the man of God’ (verse 8) and Elisha himself urges the
king of Israel to forward Naaman onto him so ‘that he may learn that there is a
prophet in Israel’ (verse 8).

Therefore, it’s a surprise when Naaman arrives at Elisha’s
house and the great man doesn’t come out to greet him, but sends a messenger,
telling Naaman to wash seven times in the Jordan (verse 10). What’s going on?

Here’s my theory: Naaman has some kind of superstar complex.
He’s miffed that the spiritual hero won’t come out to him (verse 11), and he’s
insulted by the thought of washing in that feeble, insignificant river the
Jordan. He’s got celebrity rivers back in Damascus – the Abana and the Pharpar
(verse 12). So not meeting Elisha and suffering the indignity of the River Jordan
force Naaman away from this hero-worship attitude.

And isn’t that just what we need today? We live in a culture
that needs to be weaned off celebrity adulation, and where people – ooh, let me
think, Chantelle
Houghton
and Paris
Hilton
– are merely famous for being famous. So addicted are we to this
that an informed politician like Al Gore
needs to utilise gas-guzzling pop stars to communicate his planet-saving message. By a conspiracy of
insignificant non-celebrity Christians, operating without spin doctors or
street teams, armed only with the love of Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit,
we subvert a sick culture and bring healing in the name of Jesus.

And that means that the church needs to be healed of her own
addiction to celebrity, too. We may not have the hype and publicity tools
available to entertainers and politicians, but there is an unhealthy reliance
upon famous Christians and Christian leaders. We believe, however, in a priesthood
of all believers, and so it’s time to stop this dependency upon such people and
realise this is a call to all Christians.

In fact, one Christian leader from the Southern Hemisphere, Alan Hirsch, tells a story in his
recent book, ‘The
Forgotten Ways
’ about the early growth of a church
he and his wife led in Melbourne. It did not happen under their leadership, but
before they arrived. George the Greek was a drug dealer who once chose prison
instead of a fine for his crimes. While there he read the Bible and God
encountered him. Upon release, George and his brother John set about sharing
their faith. Within six months, fifty people had become disciples of Jesus. There
were gay men, lesbians, Goths, drug addicts and prostitutes among the converts.
No Christian celebrity or authority figure did this: just George the Greek and
his brother John, loving people into the kingdom.

Conclusion
Ultimately, this takes us full circle, back to the young slave girl, who
blessed her needy, oppressive master. She, Elisha’s messenger and the river
Jordan are the heroes of the story. Elisha knows well to get out of the way
rather than garner praise for himself; sadly, the king of Israel sets no
example at all.

For we who are squeezed daily further to the margins as
Christians in our society, the message is clear: a generation of nobodies, operating
from the fringes of our culture, is God’s apostolic team for the salvation of
the world and the healing of the nations. This morning, as we take Holy
Communion, we enlist for that call.

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Tomorrow’s Sermon: The Conspiracy Of The Insignificant

2 Kings
5:1-14

Introduction
In early 2005, we realised that Debbie’s car, a Peugeot 306, was no longer
going to be functional as family car. It was insufficiently like the Tardis to
cope with the amount of clutter we needed to cart around with two small
children. Through friends and family, we were quickly converted to the virtues
of a ‘people-carrier’.

We short-listed three different cars: a Vauxhall
Zafira
, Renault
Scenic
and a Citroen
Picasso
. Despite three recommendations for the Zafira, we eliminated it as
too expensive and with too small a boot.

That left the Scenic and the Picasso. For a while, we couldn’t
tell the difference between them in appearance, but we settled on the Picasso and
once we bought one we found that whenever we were out we were always spotting
Picassos on the road. Had they suddenly increased in number once we became
interested in them? No; we had simply become more tuned into them.

Sometimes I find reading the Bible is like that. It isn’t until
I get interested in a particular issue that I realise how much of the Bible
reflects that concern, or is relevant to it.

I had one of those experiences this last week. You will know
by now that one of my concerns is how we are faithful Christian witnesses in a
society where Christianity is no longer central, but on the margins. We live in
a culture whose values have been changing rapidly in recent decades. The Gospel
may not change, but many of our old ways of being church have become obsolete.

I have read the story of Naaman and his healing since Sunday
School. Perhaps you have, too. However, this week when it came up in the Lectionary
I found it was no longer a charming Sunday School story. It was a model for
mission in today’s world. I see it, because the story is set in a time when
Israel was under the cosh from Aram (verses 1-2). A pagan nation with alien
values has mastery over the people of God. Within these strictures, fruitful
mission happens – just as it can in our day when forces are pushing the church to
the margins of society. This week we saw the church-state ties loosened as
Gordon Brown relinquished
some powers
over the appointment of bishops other senior clergy. It opens
up again the whole issue of the Church of England’s established status – and in
my Methodist opinion, that’s a good thing.

So in this context, where the church is less central to our
society, how does the story of Naaman encourage us in our mission? I find it by
exploring the three Israelite characters connected with him: the slave girl,
the king of Israel and Elisha.

1. The Slave Girl
How many of us were shocked by the news a couple of days ago that a
three-year-old girl was kidnapped in Nigeria?
Perhaps we need to think of something like that to understand the horror of
what happened when this young girl was taken captive by the Arameans in 2 Kings
5. Granted, she is probably older than three, given the way she speaks, and
neither is she being threatened by death. However, if you want a sense of the
horror, think Nigeria.

Yet in this situation of trauma and oppression, the young
girl is a star:

She said to her mistress, ‘If only my lord were with the
prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.’ (verse 3)

Here is a wounded, marginalised person offering love. Here
is one who as both child and female has no status, yet she offers love. Forgiving
love and compassion for one who has done wrong to her, her family, her religion
and nation. Truly, a little child leads here, as she blesses an enemy.

How does this translate for us? Isn’t one of the dangers of
being a minority that has been sidelined more and more that all we want to do
is carp and snipe at the society that has done this to us? We criticise this,
we declaim about that and we lay into something else. If we’re good, we pretend
we are offering a prophetic critique of the world, but if only we were. More likely,
we are laying bare the chip on our shoulder and giving energy to the resentment
we feel that people no longer see the church as an institution whose opinions
should be sought and respected.

The young slave girl says, bless those who have done this to
you. Look for ways to love and serve them. Search out opportunities to tell
them the good news – not that God can’t
wait to singe them in Hell, but that he is crazy with love for them and
passionate that they find him.

When I ministered in Kent, there was a branch of Ottakar’s bookshops
in Chatham High Street. They regularly displayed and promoted occult books. Alongside
the display there was sometimes the opportunity to sign up for occult meetings.
I shared this with a prayer meeting. The response was interesting. I thought
they would be the kind of Christians who would want to instigate a prayer march
against the shop, and perhaps a letter-writing campaign, too. They didn’t.
Their immediate response was to pray that God would bless the shop and its
employees, because that would be a better way of making a gospel difference.

For us, our ‘Naaman’ might be an unpleasant boss at work. What
might happen if we showed Christian love and concern for that boss’s needs and
difficulties? Or today’s Naaman could be an unjust political group or multinational
corporation. How might we show the love of Christ to them? (And this is the end
of International Boycott Nestlé Week!)

I am not saying we should never criticise or boycott, but we
have to be sure our motive is God’s love, not vindictiveness. The slave girl reminds
us to love and make a difference.

2. The King Of Israel
Naaman goes to his king, who prepares a letter for his opposite number, the
king of Israel. Leave aside for a moment the naïveté that assumes the Israelite
king can heal the soldier. We have to excuse that as innocent ignorance: it’s
something Christians encounter often from people who make requests of them. I often
find it comes in terms of expecting that the minister can do something, which
another Christian can’t. There is no point in criticising this: we cannot
expect complete understanding of our ways.

What is more disappointing is the king of Israel’s response.
He doesn’t give a theological lecture – that would be bad enough. Instead, he
goes on the defensive:

When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes
and said, ‘Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to
cure a man of his leprosy?
Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.’ (verse 7)

The king of Israel cannot see human need for what it is and
respond appropriately. It is as if he knows the story of the Trojan Horse and
sees Naaman’s illness as the way in which Israel will be further weakened.

Is that so far from some of our responses as a Christian
minority today? I don’t think so. There are those who think we shouldn’t
support environmental causes, because we become ‘guilty by association’ with
some crazy green campaigners who happen to think that planet Earth is actually
a goddess named Gaia, and we shouldn’t get our names tarnished by working with
such fruitcakes. The fact that there is ample biblical material for being
environmentally conscious should be enough: God calls us to be stewards of the
earth, not rapists of it.

Alternatively, consider how long it took some Christians to
become concerned with fighting HIV/AIDS, because of its association with sexual
practices that lie outside traditional Christian morality. Thank God that
mentality has changed through the example of organisations like ACET AND TEAR
Fund
, who hold orthodox Christian beliefs, but are at the forefront of
medical prevention and political campaigning.

In a world packed with terrible needs, it would be spiritual
suicide to follow the example of the king of Israel. It’s no good getting on
our high horse about certain moral evils in our society, but doing nothing to
heal the pain.

But let’s bring it close and personal. Who are the people we
know, who have made a mess of their lives, perhaps through their own fault, but
whom we have been resisting the idea of helping? Is now the time to see that we
have made a mistake and need to reach out with Christian compassion? For Debbie
and me recently it’s been about being available to two pregnant women: one is
living with her partner and already has one child by him, the other had a
second child on her own without ongoing involvement from the father of either
child. Neither of these women lives lifestyles with which we agree as
Christians. However, would it surprise you if I told you that one of these
mothers is now asking questions about baptism?

3. Elisha
Surely the story is going to end up with Elisha performing an amazing miracle. It
builds up that way. The slave girl calls him ‘the prophet who is in Samaria
[who] would cure [Naaman] of his leprosy’ (verse 3). The writer of 2 Kings
describes Elisha as ‘the man of God’ (verse 8) and Elisha himself urges the
king of Israel to forward Naaman onto him so ‘that he may learn that there is a
prophet in Israel’ (verse 8).

Therefore, it’s a surprise when Naaman arrives at Elisha’s
house and the great man doesn’t come out to greet him, but sends a messenger,
telling Naaman to wash seven times in the Jordan (verse 10). What’s going on?

Here’s my theory: Naaman has some kind of superstar complex.
He’s miffed that the spiritual hero won’t come out to him (verse 11), and he’s
insulted by the thought of washing in that feeble, insignificant river the
Jordan. He’s got celebrity rivers back in Damascus – the Abana and the Pharpar
(verse 12). So not meeting Elisha and suffering the indignity of the River Jordan
force Naaman away from this hero-worship attitude.

And isn’t that just what we need today? We live in a culture
that needs to be weaned off celebrity adulation, and where people – ooh, let me
think, Chantelle
Houghton
and Paris
Hilton
– are merely famous for being famous. So addicted are we to this
that an informed politician like Al Gore
needs to utilise gas-guzzling pop stars to communicate his planet-saving message. By a conspiracy of
insignificant non-celebrity Christians, operating without spin doctors or
street teams, armed only with the love of Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit,
we subvert a sick culture and bring healing in the name of Jesus.

And that means that the church needs to be healed of her own
addiction to celebrity, too. We may not have the hype and publicity tools
available to entertainers and politicians, but there is an unhealthy reliance
upon famous Christians and Christian leaders. We believe, however, in a priesthood
of all believers, and so it’s time to stop this dependency upon such people and
realise this is a call to all Christians.

In fact, one Christian leader from the Southern Hemisphere, Alan Hirsch, tells a story in his
recent book, ‘The
Forgotten Ways
’ about the early growth of a church
he and his wife led in Melbourne. It did not happen under their leadership, but
before they arrived. George the Greek was a drug dealer who once chose prison
instead of a fine for his crimes. While there he read the Bible and God
encountered him. Upon release, George and his brother John set about sharing
their faith. Within six months, fifty people had become disciples of Jesus. There
were gay men, lesbians, Goths, drug addicts and prostitutes among the converts.
No Christian celebrity or authority figure did this: just George the Greek and
his brother John, loving people into the kingdom.

Conclusion
Ultimately, this takes us full circle, back to the young slave girl, who
blessed her needy, oppressive master. She, Elisha’s messenger and the river
Jordan are the heroes of the story. Elisha knows well to get out of the way
rather than garner praise for himself; sadly, the king of Israel sets no
example at all.

For we who are squeezed daily further to the margins as
Christians in our society, the message is clear: a generation of nobodies, operating
from the fringes of our culture, is God’s apostolic team for the salvation of
the world and the healing of the nations. This morning, as we take Holy
Communion, we enlist for that call.

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