Category: Religion

Wineskins 2

connexions » Blog Archive » Rediscovering the Circuit

Richard Hall has some good words to say about the Methodist circuit system. I especially like the way he amends the ‘strong helping the weak’ value to the one of gaining a wider perspective. Like him, if we were to get local pastors (and other leaders – see the previous Wineskins post) in each church, I would still keep something like the circuit system as part of that sense of apostolic connectedness. However, Richard’s post admits that the circuit system was not originally set up with ordained leaders in mind. It was a supplementary support in the Evangelical Revival, and as I argued before, Methodism hasn’t really grasped that nettle.

Another problem we face is alluded to by comment #1 on the post, by Olive Morgan. She laments the lack of support for circuit events. I suggest this is a combination of at least two factors. Firstly, younger church activists often operate in a post-denominational fashion, looking for the right church for them and their loved ones (and that isn’t always consumerist, although it can be). They are thus less attached to the denominational structures. Combined with this, the generations which were more denominationally loyal are getting older. (Olive Morgan openly admits on the blog strap line that she is an octogenarian.) Many are now of the age where they don’t like to go out at night. Maintaining a sense of connectedness happens less in the Methodist structures now and more in local cross-church co-operation. I believe we should lament inward-looking congregationalism and celebrate the connections where they happen. The circuit doesn’t need to be the provider of all connectedness, but it can be the cheerleader for all that happens.

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3

Tomorrow’s Sermon: Persistent Prayer, Audacious Faith

Luke 18:1-8

Introduction
My parents didn’t have a television when I was born. (Yes, I am that old.) They
first had one when I was about five. They must have been alert even then to the
dangers of television corrupting young minds, and limited what they allowed me to
watch. American imports came under particular suspicion, especially Batman.
They didn’t ban me from watching cartoons, although I think they frowned on
them. I did manage to watch The
Impossibles and Wacky
Races. Blue Peter passed
the parental test. That was factual and educational.
But not a lot else did. Certainly, they deemed cartoons frivolous and mind
rotting.

Only in adult life have I come to see that cartoons are more
than just the frivolous. They can be humorous, but making a point. The Simpsons are perhaps the classic
example. Children can laugh at the antics of this four-fingered yellow-skinned
American family, but adults can detect a deeper message, a satire. And away
from the television or cinema screen, cartoonists – such as in newspapers –
pull a similar trick. Their exaggeration is part of an effect that is not
merely meant to make us laugh, but to get over a point. Margaret Thatcher’s
large nose, Cherie Blair’s wide mouth, or a grumpy Gordon Brown are depicted so
that a message about them may be conveyed.

So can I suggest to you that Jesus was a cartoonist? A
cartoonist with words. He painted extreme and ridiculous images with words to
startle us into thinking about God and his kingdom, and responding
appropriately. I view today’s parable, about the unjust judge, as something
like a cartoon. It depicts extreme characters in order to make us take prayer
seriously. Let’s spend some time thinking about the two key characters of the
judge and the widow. And then let’s see where they and the story lead us in
terms of our attitudes to prayer.

1. The Characters
The Judge
How crazy is it for Jesus to liken his loving heavenly Father to an unjust
judge? This week one minister
said it would be
blasphemous, were not so much like something out of Monty
Python for Jesus to make such a comparison.

And so it is. The judge is a terrible character![1]
By fearing neither God nor people, he contravenes Old Testament criteria for
judges in Israel. He is the type that prophets like Amos would have condemned. Such
judges were known in New Testament times, too. People made a pun on their actual
title in Hebrew to call them ‘Robber Judges.’ Some were known to pervert justice
for a dish of meat.

In fact, it’s worse than not respecting people. Jesus is
saying that the judge had no sense of shame. And that is the worst condemnation
for someone in the Middle East. It is not enough to say to someone, ‘You have
done wrong!’ It is more effective to say, ‘You should be ashamed of yourself!’
If he feels no shame, then no appeal to morality will hold any sway with him. What
will? A bribe. Nothing else.

How unlike God he is, then. In contrast, God has no reason
to feel shame. God is not a robber, but a generous giver. He cannot be bribed,
and would not want to be. Yet the judge fulfils the ‘God’ rôle in the parable.

The Widow
Widows and orphans were those had first tight of call upon a judge, according
to Jewish interpretation of Isaiah and other scriptures. They are the most
vulnerable, with no one to protect them, especially in a male-dominated
society. If a widow owned anything or was entitled to anything of value, you
could be sure that human vultures would attempt to take it from her. We can be sure,
indeed, that she has gone to the judge over a financial matter, since a matter
of money was one issue in which a judge could sit alone, without colleagues.

The widow need not necessarily be elderly – not in a culture
where women married at thirteen or fourteen. It is quite possible that her
husband has died young (life expectancy not being what it is in our society),
and she has been left with young children to raise. She needs all she can have,
and comes to the judge crying out not for vengeance but for justice.

She has no male representatives to go to the judge for her. Otherwise,
she would not have gone to court – a man would have gone in her stead. She would
have stayed at home. She also has neither the means nor the inclination to bribe
the judge. What hope has she? She arrives; perhaps there are others who want
their cases heard, too. Some of the more sophisticated and wealthy petitioners
may be having quiet words with officials, paying ‘fees’ – a euphemism for
bribes – and being heard first.

What can she do? She can do what men fear of women: she can
nag. She can also take advantage of the fact that a man who shouted at a judge
for justice might fear for his life, but a woman’s life would be respected and
honoured. For all her disadvantages, she has a certain safety in going to
court, regardless of her chances of success. So she goes – and rightly milks
the advantage she has. What does she have to lose? She doesn’t own anything
anyway. She wears the judge out with her persistent cries for justice. Even a
man who doesn’t have any sense of personal honour, with whom the moral appeal
won’t work, can be worn down.

2. Prayer
Persistence
Last week, American media
reported the story of a woman who passed out with shock at her husband’s
funeral. She was rushed to hospital, where her jewellery was removed for
safekeeping by her son. He put it in a rubber glove, but then mislaid it. The hospital
said it would have been collected with the rubbish and sent to a landfill site.

The family called the waste management company that had
taken the ‘trash’ from the hospital. They had not disposed of that particular
consignment yet. They agreed to deposit it at their site, separate from other
rubbish. The family and a hospital official – who refused pay for this – began to
search for the jewellery, while dressed in protective plastic clothing, and
enduring a hot day.

After seven hours, the family members were exhausted, and
were ready to quit. But the hospital official said,

“I prayed to God and pulled one more bag — because we were
about exhausted — and our prayers were answered. There it was.”

The official said it illustrated the principle by which he
lives:

“Don’t give up five minutes before the miracle.”

I found this story via an American Methodist with a healing
ministry. He
commented:

How often do we give up 5 minutes before God answers our
prayers?

Time and time again I read of healing that doesn’t come from the first time
that prayer and laying upon of hands is offered. So often it comes after much
prayer, and many healing sessions. How often do we pray for someone or
something, then give up on God? How often do we feel that our prayers are fruitless?
How often do we give up rather than persist in prayer?

There’s a person in my life for whom I pray and get tempted to think God has
not heard my prayers. This person’s situation is getting worse rather than
better. But I persist. I know that God hears my prayers and is responding to
them. Over the course of time my prayers are being honed into more focused and
insightful supplications. I seek a deeper understanding of how God’s mercy and
grace work in those praying and those being prayed for. And when doubt enters,
I hearken back to the words of the [hospital official] … and endeavour not to
give up 5 minutes before the miracle.

One person who read the story offered this response:

This reminds me of a wood festival that I went to this
summer. I paid £5 for the privilege of climbing a 70 foot pole lumberjack style
– wearing spiked boots and using a strap.

It was surprisingly exhausting. I stopped at what I thought was about 3/4 of
the way up, too tired to keep going. When I looked up to see how much farther I
still had to drag myself I discovered all I needed to do to touch the top was
reach up a bit with my hand.

When you feel too tired to keep going, look up. You might be a lot closer to
your destination than you think.

Right at the outset, Luke lays out the reason for Jesus
telling his disciples this parable:

Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray
always and not to lose heart. (Verse 1)

Don’t lose heart, says Jesus. The widow didn’t. Don’t you,
either. You’re not coming to an unjust judge, but to a loving Father. Don’t let
hope slip away. God the Father is the God of hope. Keep going.

Where are you losing hope? Where are you being tempted to
give up? Jesus invites us to remember – along with that hospital official –
that we might only be five minutes away from a miracle.

Persistent Prayer Is
A Sign Of Faith
Jesus doesn’t just want gently to encourage us to be persistent. He says something
stronger than that. He wants us to do so as a sign of genuine faith:

‘Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant
justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in
helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when
the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?’ (Verses 6-8)

God will help his people. He will be patient with us,
because he is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, as the Psalmist
says. He knows we are weak and sinful, but that will not change his loving and
merciful desire to help us. And if we know God is like that, then we couple
persistent prayer with audacious faith. Because God is good, we persistently and
daringly ask him for good things.

Another
American Methodist I’ve read this week had collected a series of
secular quotes on this theme of audacity. They might illuminate the point I
am trying to make:

The fifteenth century priest Erasmus said, ‘Fortune favours
the audacious.’

An unknown source said, ‘Audacity has made kings.’

Publilius
Syrus, a first century BC Roman author, said, ‘Audacity augments courage;
hesitations, fear.’

Benjamin
Disraeli said, ‘Success is the child of audacity.’

And finally, von
Goethe said, ‘In every artist there is a touch of audacity without which no
talent is conceivable.’

Jesus wants us to be bold as well as persistent in prayer. In
the Lord’s Prayer he has us praying for the kingdom of God to come, paralleled
with the request for God’s will to be done on earth as in heaven. That’s big! This
is not, ‘Lord, may I have a Mars Bar’ prayer. This is big stuff.

But we can learn from children. Because we are God’s children,
we are encouraged, if not urged to pray, just as a parent would think there
were something strange about their child if it did not bring requests. In my
four and a half years’ experience as a parent, I find that when Rebekah wants
something, one thing I cannot do is pretend she has not asked for it! She will
repeat it, and repeat it. Moreover, the volume of her voice will probably
increase!

Keep going! Be bold! The God and Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ is no unjust judge. He will hear us much more willingly than the unjust
judge entertained the widow. Do not lose hope. Keep praying. And keep praying
for Big Things.

 

[1]
What follows is based on Kenneth
Bailey, Through
Peasant Eyes, pp 127-141.

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

1

Tomorrow’s Sermon: Persistent Prayer, Audacious Faith

Luke 18:1-8

Introduction
My parents didn’t have a television when I was born. (Yes, I am that old.) They
first had one when I was about five. They must have been alert even then to the
dangers of television corrupting young minds, and limited what they allowed me to
watch. American imports came under particular suspicion, especially Batman.
They didn’t ban me from watching cartoons, although I think they frowned on
them. I did manage to watch The
Impossibles and Wacky
Races. Blue Peter passed
the parental test. That was factual and educational.
But not a lot else did. Certainly, they deemed cartoons frivolous and mind
rotting.

Only in adult life have I come to see that cartoons are more
than just the frivolous. They can be humorous, but making a point. The Simpsons are perhaps the classic
example. Children can laugh at the antics of this four-fingered yellow-skinned
American family, but adults can detect a deeper message, a satire. And away
from the television or cinema screen, cartoonists – such as in newspapers –
pull a similar trick. Their exaggeration is part of an effect that is not
merely meant to make us laugh, but to get over a point. Margaret Thatcher’s
large nose, Cherie Blair’s wide mouth, or a grumpy Gordon Brown are depicted so
that a message about them may be conveyed.

So can I suggest to you that Jesus was a cartoonist? A
cartoonist with words. He painted extreme and ridiculous images with words to
startle us into thinking about God and his kingdom, and responding
appropriately. I view today’s parable, about the unjust judge, as something
like a cartoon. It depicts extreme characters in order to make us take prayer
seriously. Let’s spend some time thinking about the two key characters of the
judge and the widow. And then let’s see where they and the story lead us in
terms of our attitudes to prayer.

1. The Characters
The Judge
How crazy is it for Jesus to liken his loving heavenly Father to an unjust
judge? This week one minister
said it would be
blasphemous, were not so much like something out of Monty
Python for Jesus to make such a comparison.

And so it is. The judge is a terrible character![1]
By fearing neither God nor people, he contravenes Old Testament criteria for
judges in Israel. He is the type that prophets like Amos would have condemned. Such
judges were known in New Testament times, too. People made a pun on their actual
title in Hebrew to call them ‘Robber Judges.’ Some were known to pervert justice
for a dish of meat.

In fact, it’s worse than not respecting people. Jesus is
saying that the judge had no sense of shame. And that is the worst condemnation
for someone in the Middle East. It is not enough to say to someone, ‘You have
done wrong!’ It is more effective to say, ‘You should be ashamed of yourself!’
If he feels no shame, then no appeal to morality will hold any sway with him. What
will? A bribe. Nothing else.

How unlike God he is, then. In contrast, God has no reason
to feel shame. God is not a robber, but a generous giver. He cannot be bribed,
and would not want to be. Yet the judge fulfils the ‘God’ rôle in the parable.

The Widow
Widows and orphans were those had first tight of call upon a judge, according
to Jewish interpretation of Isaiah and other scriptures. They are the most
vulnerable, with no one to protect them, especially in a male-dominated
society. If a widow owned anything or was entitled to anything of value, you
could be sure that human vultures would attempt to take it from her. We can be sure,
indeed, that she has gone to the judge over a financial matter, since a matter
of money was one issue in which a judge could sit alone, without colleagues.

The widow need not necessarily be elderly – not in a culture
where women married at thirteen or fourteen. It is quite possible that her
husband has died young (life expectancy not being what it is in our society),
and she has been left with young children to raise. She needs all she can have,
and comes to the judge crying out not for vengeance but for justice.

She has no male representatives to go to the judge for her. Otherwise,
she would not have gone to court – a man would have gone in her stead. She would
have stayed at home. She also has neither the means nor the inclination to bribe
the judge. What hope has she? She arrives; perhaps there are others who want
their cases heard, too. Some of the more sophisticated and wealthy petitioners
may be having quiet words with officials, paying ‘fees’ – a euphemism for
bribes – and being heard first.

What can she do? She can do what men fear of women: she can
nag. She can also take advantage of the fact that a man who shouted at a judge
for justice might fear for his life, but a woman’s life would be respected and
honoured. For all her disadvantages, she has a certain safety in going to
court, regardless of her chances of success. So she goes – and rightly milks
the advantage she has. What does she have to lose? She doesn’t own anything
anyway. She wears the judge out with her persistent cries for justice. Even a
man who doesn’t have any sense of personal honour, with whom the moral appeal
won’t work, can be worn down.

2. Prayer
Persistence
Last week, American media
reported the story of a woman who passed out with shock at her husband’s
funeral. She was rushed to hospital, where her jewellery was removed for
safekeeping by her son. He put it in a rubber glove, but then mislaid it. The hospital
said it would have been collected with the rubbish and sent to a landfill site.

The family called the waste management company that had
taken the ‘trash’ from the hospital. They had not disposed of that particular
consignment yet. They agreed to deposit it at their site, separate from other
rubbish. The family and a hospital official – who refused pay for this – began to
search for the jewellery, while dressed in protective plastic clothing, and
enduring a hot day.

After seven hours, the family members were exhausted, and
were ready to quit. But the hospital official said,

“I prayed to God and pulled one more bag — because we were
about exhausted — and our prayers were answered. There it was.”

The official said it illustrated the principle by which he
lives:

“Don’t give up five minutes before the miracle.”

I found this story via an American Methodist with a healing
ministry. He
commented:

How often do we give up 5 minutes before God answers our
prayers?

Time and time again I read of healing that doesn’t come from the first time
that prayer and laying upon of hands is offered. So often it comes after much
prayer, and many healing sessions. How often do we pray for someone or
something, then give up on God? How often do we feel that our prayers are fruitless?
How often do we give up rather than persist in prayer?

There’s a person in my life for whom I pray and get tempted to think God has
not heard my prayers. This person’s situation is getting worse rather than
better. But I persist. I know that God hears my prayers and is responding to
them. Over the course of time my prayers are being honed into more focused and
insightful supplications. I seek a deeper understanding of how God’s mercy and
grace work in those praying and those being prayed for. And when doubt enters,
I hearken back to the words of the [hospital official] … and endeavour not to
give up 5 minutes before the miracle.

One person who read the story offered this response:

This reminds me of a wood festival that I went to this
summer. I paid £5 for the privilege of climbing a 70 foot pole lumberjack style
– wearing spiked boots and using a strap.

It was surprisingly exhausting. I stopped at what I thought was about 3/4 of
the way up, too tired to keep going. When I looked up to see how much farther I
still had to drag myself I discovered all I needed to do to touch the top was
reach up a bit with my hand.

When you feel too tired to keep going, look up. You might be a lot closer to
your destination than you think.

Right at the outset, Luke lays out the reason for Jesus
telling his disciples this parable:

Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray
always and not to lose heart. (Verse 1)

Don’t lose heart, says Jesus. The widow didn’t. Don’t you,
either. You’re not coming to an unjust judge, but to a loving Father. Don’t let
hope slip away. God the Father is the God of hope. Keep going.

Where are you losing hope? Where are you being tempted to
give up? Jesus invites us to remember – along with that hospital official –
that we might only be five minutes away from a miracle.

Persistent Prayer Is
A Sign Of Faith
Jesus doesn’t just want gently to encourage us to be persistent. He says something
stronger than that. He wants us to do so as a sign of genuine faith:

‘Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant
justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in
helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when
the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?’ (Verses 6-8)

God will help his people. He will be patient with us,
because he is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, as the Psalmist
says. He knows we are weak and sinful, but that will not change his loving and
merciful desire to help us. And if we know God is like that, then we couple
persistent prayer with audacious faith. Because God is good, we persistently and
daringly ask him for good things.

Another
American Methodist I’ve read this week had collected a series of
secular quotes on this theme of audacity. They might illuminate the point I
am trying to make:

The fifteenth century priest Erasmus said, ‘Fortune favours
the audacious.’

An unknown source said, ‘Audacity has made kings.’

Publilius
Syrus, a first century BC Roman author, said, ‘Audacity augments courage;
hesitations, fear.’

Benjamin
Disraeli said, ‘Success is the child of audacity.’

And finally, von
Goethe said, ‘In every artist there is a touch of audacity without which no
talent is conceivable.’

Jesus wants us to be bold as well as persistent in prayer. In
the Lord’s Prayer he has us praying for the kingdom of God to come, paralleled
with the request for God’s will to be done on earth as in heaven. That’s big! This
is not, ‘Lord, may I have a Mars Bar’ prayer. This is big stuff.

But we can learn from children. Because we are God’s children,
we are encouraged, if not urged to pray, just as a parent would think there
were something strange about their child if it did not bring requests. In my
four and a half years’ experience as a parent, I find that when Rebekah wants
something, one thing I cannot do is pretend she has not asked for it! She will
repeat it, and repeat it. Moreover, the volume of her voice will probably
increase!

Keep going! Be bold! The God and Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ is no unjust judge. He will hear us much more willingly than the unjust
judge entertained the widow. Do not lose hope. Keep praying. And keep praying
for Big Things.

 

[1]
What follows is based on Kenneth
Bailey, Through
Peasant Eyes, pp 127-141.

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

0

Tomorrow’s Sermon: Persistent Prayer, Audacious Faith

Luke 18:1-8

Introduction
My parents didn’t have a television when I was born. (Yes, I am that old.) They
first had one when I was about five. They must have been alert even then to the
dangers of television corrupting young minds, and limited what they allowed me to
watch. American imports came under particular suspicion, especially Batman.
They didn’t ban me from watching cartoons, although I think they frowned on
them. I did manage to watch The
Impossibles and Wacky
Races. Blue Peter passed
the parental test. That was factual and educational.
But not a lot else did. Certainly, they deemed cartoons frivolous and mind
rotting.

Only in adult life have I come to see that cartoons are more
than just the frivolous. They can be humorous, but making a point. The Simpsons are perhaps the classic
example. Children can laugh at the antics of this four-fingered yellow-skinned
American family, but adults can detect a deeper message, a satire. And away
from the television or cinema screen, cartoonists – such as in newspapers –
pull a similar trick. Their exaggeration is part of an effect that is not
merely meant to make us laugh, but to get over a point. Margaret Thatcher’s
large nose, Cherie Blair’s wide mouth, or a grumpy Gordon Brown are depicted so
that a message about them may be conveyed.

So can I suggest to you that Jesus was a cartoonist? A
cartoonist with words. He painted extreme and ridiculous images with words to
startle us into thinking about God and his kingdom, and responding
appropriately. I view today’s parable, about the unjust judge, as something
like a cartoon. It depicts extreme characters in order to make us take prayer
seriously. Let’s spend some time thinking about the two key characters of the
judge and the widow. And then let’s see where they and the story lead us in
terms of our attitudes to prayer.

1. The Characters
The Judge
How crazy is it for Jesus to liken his loving heavenly Father to an unjust
judge? This week one minister
said it would be
blasphemous, were not so much like something out of Monty
Python for Jesus to make such a comparison.

And so it is. The judge is a terrible character![1]
By fearing neither God nor people, he contravenes Old Testament criteria for
judges in Israel. He is the type that prophets like Amos would have condemned. Such
judges were known in New Testament times, too. People made a pun on their actual
title in Hebrew to call them ‘Robber Judges.’ Some were known to pervert justice
for a dish of meat.

In fact, it’s worse than not respecting people. Jesus is
saying that the judge had no sense of shame. And that is the worst condemnation
for someone in the Middle East. It is not enough to say to someone, ‘You have
done wrong!’ It is more effective to say, ‘You should be ashamed of yourself!’
If he feels no shame, then no appeal to morality will hold any sway with him. What
will? A bribe. Nothing else.

How unlike God he is, then. In contrast, God has no reason
to feel shame. God is not a robber, but a generous giver. He cannot be bribed,
and would not want to be. Yet the judge fulfils the ‘God’ rôle in the parable.

The Widow
Widows and orphans were those had first tight of call upon a judge, according
to Jewish interpretation of Isaiah and other scriptures. They are the most
vulnerable, with no one to protect them, especially in a male-dominated
society. If a widow owned anything or was entitled to anything of value, you
could be sure that human vultures would attempt to take it from her. We can be sure,
indeed, that she has gone to the judge over a financial matter, since a matter
of money was one issue in which a judge could sit alone, without colleagues.

The widow need not necessarily be elderly – not in a culture
where women married at thirteen or fourteen. It is quite possible that her
husband has died young (life expectancy not being what it is in our society),
and she has been left with young children to raise. She needs all she can have,
and comes to the judge crying out not for vengeance but for justice.

She has no male representatives to go to the judge for her. Otherwise,
she would not have gone to court – a man would have gone in her stead. She would
have stayed at home. She also has neither the means nor the inclination to bribe
the judge. What hope has she? She arrives; perhaps there are others who want
their cases heard, too. Some of the more sophisticated and wealthy petitioners
may be having quiet words with officials, paying ‘fees’ – a euphemism for
bribes – and being heard first.

What can she do? She can do what men fear of women: she can
nag. She can also take advantage of the fact that a man who shouted at a judge
for justice might fear for his life, but a woman’s life would be respected and
honoured. For all her disadvantages, she has a certain safety in going to
court, regardless of her chances of success. So she goes – and rightly milks
the advantage she has. What does she have to lose? She doesn’t own anything
anyway. She wears the judge out with her persistent cries for justice. Even a
man who doesn’t have any sense of personal honour, with whom the moral appeal
won’t work, can be worn down.

2. Prayer
Persistence
Last week, American media
reported the story of a woman who passed out with shock at her husband’s
funeral. She was rushed to hospital, where her jewellery was removed for
safekeeping by her son. He put it in a rubber glove, but then mislaid it. The hospital
said it would have been collected with the rubbish and sent to a landfill site.

The family called the waste management company that had
taken the ‘trash’ from the hospital. They had not disposed of that particular
consignment yet. They agreed to deposit it at their site, separate from other
rubbish. The family and a hospital official – who refused pay for this – began to
search for the jewellery, while dressed in protective plastic clothing, and
enduring a hot day.

After seven hours, the family members were exhausted, and
were ready to quit. But the hospital official said,

“I prayed to God and pulled one more bag — because we were
about exhausted — and our prayers were answered. There it was.”

The official said it illustrated the principle by which he
lives:

“Don’t give up five minutes before the miracle.”

I found this story via an American Methodist with a healing
ministry. He
commented:

How often do we give up 5 minutes before God answers our
prayers?

Time and time again I read of healing that doesn’t come from the first time
that prayer and laying upon of hands is offered. So often it comes after much
prayer, and many healing sessions. How often do we pray for someone or
something, then give up on God? How often do we feel that our prayers are fruitless?
How often do we give up rather than persist in prayer?

There’s a person in my life for whom I pray and get tempted to think God has
not heard my prayers. This person’s situation is getting worse rather than
better. But I persist. I know that God hears my prayers and is responding to
them. Over the course of time my prayers are being honed into more focused and
insightful supplications. I seek a deeper understanding of how God’s mercy and
grace work in those praying and those being prayed for. And when doubt enters,
I hearken back to the words of the [hospital official] … and endeavour not to
give up 5 minutes before the miracle.

One person who read the story offered this response:

This reminds me of a wood festival that I went to this
summer. I paid £5 for the privilege of climbing a 70 foot pole lumberjack style
– wearing spiked boots and using a strap.

It was surprisingly exhausting. I stopped at what I thought was about 3/4 of
the way up, too tired to keep going. When I looked up to see how much farther I
still had to drag myself I discovered all I needed to do to touch the top was
reach up a bit with my hand.

When you feel too tired to keep going, look up. You might be a lot closer to
your destination than you think.

Right at the outset, Luke lays out the reason for Jesus
telling his disciples this parable:

Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray
always and not to lose heart. (Verse 1)

Don’t lose heart, says Jesus. The widow didn’t. Don’t you,
either. You’re not coming to an unjust judge, but to a loving Father. Don’t let
hope slip away. God the Father is the God of hope. Keep going.

Where are you losing hope? Where are you being tempted to
give up? Jesus invites us to remember – along with that hospital official –
that we might only be five minutes away from a miracle.

Persistent Prayer Is
A Sign Of Faith
Jesus doesn’t just want gently to encourage us to be persistent. He says something
stronger than that. He wants us to do so as a sign of genuine faith:

‘Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant
justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in
helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when
the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?’ (Verses 6-8)

God will help his people. He will be patient with us,
because he is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, as the Psalmist
says. He knows we are weak and sinful, but that will not change his loving and
merciful desire to help us. And if we know God is like that, then we couple
persistent prayer with audacious faith. Because God is good, we persistently and
daringly ask him for good things.

Another
American Methodist I’ve read this week had collected a series of
secular quotes on this theme of audacity. They might illuminate the point I
am trying to make:

The fifteenth century priest Erasmus said, ‘Fortune favours
the audacious.’

An unknown source said, ‘Audacity has made kings.’

Publilius
Syrus, a first century BC Roman author, said, ‘Audacity augments courage;
hesitations, fear.’

Benjamin
Disraeli said, ‘Success is the child of audacity.’

And finally, von
Goethe said, ‘In every artist there is a touch of audacity without which no
talent is conceivable.’

Jesus wants us to be bold as well as persistent in prayer. In
the Lord’s Prayer he has us praying for the kingdom of God to come, paralleled
with the request for God’s will to be done on earth as in heaven. That’s big! This
is not, ‘Lord, may I have a Mars Bar’ prayer. This is big stuff.

But we can learn from children. Because we are God’s children,
we are encouraged, if not urged to pray, just as a parent would think there
were something strange about their child if it did not bring requests. In my
four and a half years’ experience as a parent, I find that when Rebekah wants
something, one thing I cannot do is pretend she has not asked for it! She will
repeat it, and repeat it. Moreover, the volume of her voice will probably
increase!

Keep going! Be bold! The God and Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ is no unjust judge. He will hear us much more willingly than the unjust
judge entertained the widow. Do not lose hope. Keep praying. And keep praying
for Big Things.

 

[1]
What follows is based on Kenneth
Bailey, Through
Peasant Eyes, pp 127-141.

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Wineskins

I had a brief, but excellent meeting on Monday with Pete Pillinger
of Fresh Expressions and
co-author of Changing
Church For A Changing World. This book is a cheap and superb introduction
to Fresh Expressions Of Church from a Methodist
perspective. In it, my old friend Martin Wellings gives an historical
perspective on Fresh Expressions. He points out that the beginnings of
Methodism itself was a ‘fresh expression’ of its day, as were various
developments over the centuries (not least some that led to the movements being
expelled – such as Primitive Methodism and the Salvation Army). Martin points out
wryly that fresh expressions can become stale
expressions. Is that the problem we face today? I suspect it is. I am glad
the Conference welcomes fresh expressions of church, but there are real
structural issues of our ecclesiology with which to grapple. I hope to look at
some of this during a sabbatical in eighteen months’ time.

There is the whole question of wineskins. Jesus said that
you don’t put new wine in old wineskins, or they will burst. Whether the
current ‘wineskin’ of Methodist ecclesiology (including our structures and
governance) can contain fresh expressions is a moot point. The Past President
of the Conference, Graham Carter, remarked in one Methodist Recorder article
that you probably shouldn’t put a Fresh Expression on the circuit preaching
plan, allocating it Local Preachers and ministers to take services in the way
you would a ‘conventional’ Methodist church. This is both eminently sensible
and also a ticking bomb. It is sensible, because FEs are so diverse within
themselves and compared with traditional Methodism that your average Methodist
preacher doesn’t have the training to lead worship in them.

But it is a ticking bomb, because the circuit system is the
basic structure of Methodism. The circuit is supposed to be the primary focus
of mission. Treating worship in FEs (rightly) like this undermines the system.
Great – but unless we change the wineskin there will be a red or white sticky
mess. Perhaps we need to face head-on the fact that we have turned into an
ecclesiological system something that was never intended by Wesley to be
anything of the sort. The classes, bands and societies he established during
the eighteenth century Evangelical Revival were a good thing in that unlike
George Whitefield, he organised converts and enquirers together. However, they
were established on the assumption that the members would still worship at the
parish church on a Sunday. So (in our terms) a midweek fellowship meeting or a
parachurch organisation evolved into a church congregation after Wesley’s
death, and in the light of Methodism’s ultimate split from the Church of
England. I suggest this fact has never been seriously faced.

But even to suggest this moves us into sacred cow territory
for some Methodists. So let me stress that I also see strengths in the circuit
system and the importance we place on ‘connexionalism’. Methodists see
themselves as connected to one another. In the circuit at its best, the strong
churches help the weaker ones. In the circuit staff meeting, we have an
opportunity for mutual support in the ministry on a regular basis. We are not
congregationalists, and I approve of that ecclesiologically. I do so, because
for me apostolicity is about two things: it is both about continuation in the
apostles’ doctrines (which is by no means guaranteed by the right person laying
hands on you) and it is about our wider fellowship. I see the original apostles
as guaranteeing doctrine, and in doing so having a trans-local ministry. There
is a challenge to maintain that sense of connectedness, without falling into
congregationalism. Other denominations manage to do so – although they often
run the risk of hierarchicalism (which, if we’re honest, can happen in
Methodism, too).

But of course, apostolicity is also about church-planting,
which is one critical aspect of Fresh Expressions. And so within this issue of
ecclesiology comes the question I have raised before on this blog, namely our
understanding of ordination (‘within’ on the grounds that church leadership
arises from the church, rather than a certain form of it being a sign that
guarantees the existence of the ‘true church’). Methodism ordains to two
‘orders’ of ministry. One is that of ‘presbyter’, which is seen to encompass
the New Testament office of the presbyter/bishop (rightly in my opinion we see episkopos and presbuteros as interchangeable terms). The other is that of
‘deacon’. I want to focus on presbyters. The problem comes in determining what
a presbyter does. There are several New Testament passages about Christian
leadership. I want to test whether our descriptions of a presbyter’s rôle
fulfils New Testament expectations.

Perhaps the most wide-ranging description of leadership
functions in the NT is in Ephesians 4, where four or five (depending on how you
interpret the Greek) leadership roles are enunciated. They are apostles,
prophets, evangelists, pastors (and) teachers. In recent years, some
charismatics have talked about the five-fold ministry. Michael Frost and Alan Hirsch have expounded a more
nuanced view: these five ministries are gifts to, and present in the whole
church, not just leaders. However they are crucial for missional leadership.

Against this, the commonest and briefest understanding of a
presbyter’s calling is to a ministry of the word, sacrament and pastoral care.
Mostly, these fall within the boundaries of ‘pastor-teacher’ (notwithstanding
my previous concerns about sacramental presidency). If there is one possible
loophole, it is in the ministry of the word: ministering the word to whom? To
the church – in which case it is pastoral – or to the world – in which case it
is prophetic or evangelistic? I think it fair to say the standard assumption,
especially when one factors in the nature of ministerial training as many of us
have experienced it, is that the word is a pastoral function. We thus end up
purely ordaining pastor-teachers. It is not surprising if we then have a
‘maintenance ministry’, or an inward-looking one. Methodism does authorise
evangelists as well, but it is not explicitly part of the ordination call, with
one possible exception: one part of our ordination service calls on presbyters
to ‘seek the lost’ (Methodist Worship Book, p 308). Those who do not generally
fall within the pastor-teacher models of ministry generally end up being
recognised as laypeople. Where in particular are the apostolic church-planters?
And while I dislike a clergy/laity distinction, I am seeing ordination here as
a call to leadership in the Church. If we persist in purely ordaining
pastor-teachers, we shall inhibit the necessity of mission, which is
fundamental to the nature of the Church.

Some will object that certain ministers do have gifts in the
apostolic, prophetic or evangelistic areas. However, we should not rely on one
minister to be an all-rounder, as some circuits request. We are the Body of
Christ, and we need all members to bring their gifts. I believe the call, then,
is for team leadership, even if one person has to be the overall leader. I see
it as a vital missional task to identify and bless all the Ephesians 4
ministries, and bring them together into a team leadership model. I am not
calling for a neglect of pastoral care, but for a balance, where all the gifts
are recognised and given importance. I believe that will make for a healthy,
missional church. Pete told me that on the recent Fresh Expressions ‘Hard Questions’
tour, the Bishop of
Horsham spoke of how he had dealt with a problem of leadership in a fresh
expression. How would they receive the sacraments? Answer: rewrite the ordinal
and ordain the youth leader. If an Anglo-Catholic can do that, can Methodism
start to show some of the flexibility of a new wineskin, too? The need is
pressing.

It’s easier to state the problems than propose the
solutions. And of course, I’ve said similar things on the blog before. I’m
currently working on some positive responses. Hopefully I’ll post them soon,
and you can all improve them, or show me their glaring weaknesses.

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On The Telly

Urgent phone call this morning: Anglia TV want to film the building extension we’ve had done at the ecumenical church I serve. Glad my Catholic colleague (the Catholics funded it all) rang me to invite me to attend, along with his deacon and the Anglican priest. Caused diary problems, though. My wife is ill with the flu, and I said I’d do the school run rather than be on TV. But she got another mum to pick up our daughter. So I made it, and should be on the regional news tomorrow night.

Having said that, we were mostly filmed looking admiringly at the building inside and outside, rather as if we’d never seen it before – one of those TV news fictions, a convention whereby TV reports the truth by staging a fiction. They then interviewed Father Frank as our spokesperson – entirely the right choice, and I think he did a good job.

There was a time when I would have rushed to get my face on the telly. Today I felt ambivalent. But I did it for two reasons. One was that Father Frank asked me. There had been an unfortunate communication breakdown two weeks ago when a local paper wanted to cover the rededication service. Phone messages didn’t get through to me for me to turn up to that photo call. Frank went out of his way to involve me. It was important to honour his generous spirit. The other reason was that I hope it goes some small way to show that the story of today’s church is not all decline.

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Tomorrow’s Sermon: A Map Of Mission

Luke 17:11-19

Introduction
The day we went on holiday this August was manic. I had to take a funeral at lunchtime.
When I returned, Debbie said to me, ‘Get changed as fast as you can, there’s
been a crash on the M25. You navigate, I’ll drive.’

It was natural for me to navigate. As a man, I am the better
map-reader. Of course, equally as a man, I can only do one thing at a time!

Well, perhaps some will forgive me, then, if I describe
today’s sermon as ‘A Map of Mission.’
There are geographical features in this story, and they give us images of God’s
mission, as practised by Jesus.

1. Between Samaria
and Galilee
The story starts with a geographical note:

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region
between Samaria and Galilee (verse 11).

The action takes place ‘between Samaria and Galilee.’ That
accounts for the mixed group of lepers, both Jewish and Samaritan. Jesus would
never have reached such a group unless he had been ‘between Samaria and
Galilee.’ Galilee, where Jesus had based himself early on (Capernaum), chosen
the apostles and conducted much of his early ministry. Galilee in Judea, part
of the Jewish homeland. Samaria, on the other hand, home (in the eyes of Jews)
of spiritual deviants and heretics, home to the Samaritans, who were regarded
as ‘half-foreign, Israelites of doubtful descent’[1].

So where would be more comfortable? Galilee, surely.  Jesus would be with his own kind there. It would
be like structuring your whole life around church and your Christian friends. The
company of like-minded people who care about you is an attractive proposition. But
Jesus cannot stay there forever. Even on his way to Jerusalem, the capital of
his native Judea, he rides the boundaries between Samaria and Galilee.

I suggest you that is exactly what God calls us to do, in
following the example of Jesus.  He calls
us to surf between the comfort zone of those who share our faith, and the
people whom we might despise. That puts us in a place to meet people in need, and
demonstrate God’s love. Had Jesus remained in Galilee, he would not have met
these lepers; they would not have been healed; and the Samaritan leper would
not have found saving faith.

Why should we live ‘between Samaria and Galilee’? Just as
the lepers are desperate for help – they call out for mercy (verse 13), so
there are many crying out, but perhaps not knowing what Jesus can do for them. Even
the lepers here don’t completely know – their cry for mercy is a standard
request for alms.

So it isn’t just ‘why’, it’s ‘how’: how do we live between
Samaria and Galilee? I think it starts with dispensing with fear. Some
Christians have a naïve image of life, that everyone in the church is Good, and
everyone outside is Bad. They become fearful that we will be contaminated, and
unable to resist. So they counsel an avoidance of non-Christians. I witnessed
this a couple of times when I had a sabbatical, and we worshipped at a Baptist
church. One retired minister counselled the congregation not to watch a (then) forthcoming
television
programme, because it wouldn’t be encouraging to the Christian faith. Never
mind the fact that it would constitute a ‘water cooler moment’ at work the next
day, a real talking point, he told Christians to steer clear.

We need to address the fear. The First Letter of John has
the perspective we need:

You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them,
because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world (1
John 4:4).

Step out. Stop being afraid of non-Christians. Of course,
there are Bad People out there. But unless we live between Samaria and Galilee,
we shall not meet the outcasts of today who need the love of God. For like the ‘lepers’
of Jesus’ day, we cannot wait for them to come to us: they will not come.

2. Go To The Priests
The second movement is what Jesus tells the leprous men to do:

When he saw them, he said to them, ‘Go and show yourselves to
the priests.’ And as they went, they were made clean (verse 14).

Note that Jesus sees
the lepers. He must see their condition. He knows their problem. He calls for a
real act of trust in sending them to the priests: off they go without seeing
any change in their skin. It’s rather like Elisha commanding Naaman to wash
seven times in the Jordan. Madness!

But on another level, it isn’t madness at all. As the lepers
obediently go (and what did they have to lose?), they are healed. Yet I am sure
you will know it is significant they are sent to the priests. A priest had the right to declare a leper clean, and
thus able to rejoin the community of faith. A priest alone could pronounce
someone an outcast no more.

So this healing is far from the nonsense perpetrated by some
Christians who say, ‘You’ve been healed – just throw away your pills.’ This is
a verifiable act of healing, and the priests will confirm it independently.
Believing in Jesus calls for faith, it doesn’t call for fiction. It means
trusting him enough to obey him, but it doesn’t mean a game of make-believe.

What does this mean for those of us called by Jesus to share
in the mission of God? I think it includes the need to be both hopeful and
honest. Hopeful in this sense – that just as Jesus blessed people whether they
were from Samaria or Galilee, so do we. When we encounter someone in need, we
offer help if we can. And whether we can or we can’t, we offer to pray for
them. Maybe we feel nervous about suggesting we pray for someone: how will they
react? Will they think we have a screw loose? More likely, unless their name is
something like Richard Dawkins, they will probably be pleased. Whether you pray
right then with them or not is a judgment call at the time, but keep the
promise to pray.

For too long we have confined the Christian healing ministry
to the walls of a church building. But if we follow Jesus in hopeful faith,
then we take it outside the walls. My impression is there are fewer stories of
Jesus blessing people in the synagogue than other locations. We may feel as if
doing so is like toppling off a precipice. Sometimes that is because we think
God is less inclined to answer prayer when the needy person has no faith. But rarely
if ever do Jesus’ miracles depend on the one in need. More often, the question
of faith is associated with those praying. Now if that is the case, then our
prayers will be no less effective than within the Christian circle. Remember,
it was a Samaritan, not a Jew, who came back to thank Jesus. It’s time to be
hopeful!

Hopeful … and honest. Honest, because Jesus said, ‘Show
yourselves to the priests.’ No flannel. If it doesn’t happen, don’t pretend,
don’t make excuses, but keep praying. When God does bless, it will be
unmistakable. Keep hanging in there, loving, supporting and praying.

3. This Foreigner
When the ten are healed, but only the Samaritan returns, Jesus says,

‘Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?
Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?’
(Verses 17-18)

‘This foreigner’ is an over-statement as a description by a
Jew of a Samaritan. As I said earlier, Samaritans were regarded as ‘half-foreign,
Israelites of doubtful descent.’ In using the expression ‘foreigner’ here,
Jesus is deploying ‘the term used in the temple inscription that forbade the
entry of foreigners into the Jerusalem temple’[2].

If Jesus speaks about the Samaritan like this, then he has a
radically different view of access to the Temple. ‘This foreigner’ gets to praise
God and thank Jesus as a sign of his faith. So Jesus is not imagining the
Temple as a stone fortress, with all sorts of defences to keep out various
undesirables or inferiors, such as Gentiles or women. For him, there is no ‘Court
of the Gentiles’, beyond which they may not go. Jesus’ Temple is not a
defensive castle. It is more like a marquee with open flaps. Boundaries are
clearly there, but there’s an open invitation to peek at what’s happening, and
even come inside.

What is the challenge for us here? It is to make our church
communities less like castles and more like marquees. It is about reducing the
obstacles to finding faith.

Now I have to be careful here. I do not mean that we throw
away those parts of our faith that some people find intellectually difficult.
Nor do I mean that we shape our faith according to popular social morality. But
I do mean that we take down some other barriers.

We dismantle the barrier named ‘Holier Than Thou.’ How many
times have we heard people say they are not good enough for church? Of course,
we respond by saying that it isn’t like that, but this has not just to be said,
but modelled as well. It means a vulnerability, openness and honesty before
people, if they are to see what we are truly like. And that means building deep
relationships with those ‘outside the Temple’.

We take down the barricades that mean children start leaving
the community of faith before the age of eleven. We stop treating their
activities as simply what they do before graduating to ‘real church.’ We won’t
simply impart information to them, but invite them to get stuck into practical
Christian action. Remember, Jesus taught his disciples by getting their hands
dirty in mission and service. That is just as possible in appropriate ways with
children as it is with adults. We’ll listen to their concerns and help them see
where the Gospel connects with them and challenges them.

In all this, we need to be relevant and down-to-earth. Yet we
cannot reduce our vision of God. Quite the reverse. C S Lewis had a beautiful way of putting it
in one of the Narnia novels, ‘Prince
Caspian’:

Lucy awakes from a deep sleep and is compelled to get up by
the sound of a voice calling her name. She follows the sound and shortly
encounters the great lion himself:

‘Aslan, you’re bigger,’ she said.

‘That’s because you’re older, little one,’ answered he.

‘Not because you are?’

‘I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.’[3]

It’s not all about answers, solutions, techniques and
packaging up everything. Curiously, the Temple remains more accessible if we
continue to embrace mystery. A God who is bigger, stranger and more mysterious
than we can ever conceive. One we can never pin down, although we can be
confident of certain things about him – especially his redeeming love in
Christ. We commend this God as we walk daily between Samaria and Galilee, as we
meet today’s lepers with the love of God and send them in hope and honesty to
the priests.

[2] Ibid.

[3] C S Lewis, Prince
Caspian, quoted in Ruth Hassall and Ian Macdonald, Effective
Ministry To Tweenagers, p 17.

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0

Tomorrow’s Sermon: A Map Of Mission

Luke 17:11-19

Introduction
The day we went on holiday this August was manic. I had to take a funeral at lunchtime.
When I returned, Debbie said to me, ‘Get changed as fast as you can, there’s
been a crash on the M25. You navigate, I’ll drive.’

It was natural for me to navigate. As a man, I am the better
map-reader. Of course, equally as a man, I can only do one thing at a time!

Well, perhaps some will forgive me, then, if I describe
today’s sermon as ‘A Map of Mission.’
There are geographical features in this story, and they give us images of God’s
mission, as practised by Jesus.

1. Between Samaria
and Galilee
The story starts with a geographical note:

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region
between Samaria and Galilee (verse 11).

The action takes place ‘between Samaria and Galilee.’ That
accounts for the mixed group of lepers, both Jewish and Samaritan. Jesus would
never have reached such a group unless he had been ‘between Samaria and
Galilee.’ Galilee, where Jesus had based himself early on (Capernaum), chosen
the apostles and conducted much of his early ministry. Galilee in Judea, part
of the Jewish homeland. Samaria, on the other hand, home (in the eyes of Jews)
of spiritual deviants and heretics, home to the Samaritans, who were regarded
as ‘half-foreign, Israelites of doubtful descent’[1].

So where would be more comfortable? Galilee, surely.  Jesus would be with his own kind there. It would
be like structuring your whole life around church and your Christian friends. The
company of like-minded people who care about you is an attractive proposition. But
Jesus cannot stay there forever. Even on his way to Jerusalem, the capital of
his native Judea, he rides the boundaries between Samaria and Galilee.

I suggest you that is exactly what God calls us to do, in
following the example of Jesus.  He calls
us to surf between the comfort zone of those who share our faith, and the
people whom we might despise. That puts us in a place to meet people in need, and
demonstrate God’s love. Had Jesus remained in Galilee, he would not have met
these lepers; they would not have been healed; and the Samaritan leper would
not have found saving faith.

Why should we live ‘between Samaria and Galilee’? Just as
the lepers are desperate for help – they call out for mercy (verse 13), so
there are many crying out, but perhaps not knowing what Jesus can do for them. Even
the lepers here don’t completely know – their cry for mercy is a standard
request for alms.

So it isn’t just ‘why’, it’s ‘how’: how do we live between
Samaria and Galilee? I think it starts with dispensing with fear. Some
Christians have a naïve image of life, that everyone in the church is Good, and
everyone outside is Bad. They become fearful that we will be contaminated, and
unable to resist. So they counsel an avoidance of non-Christians. I witnessed
this a couple of times when I had a sabbatical, and we worshipped at a Baptist
church. One retired minister counselled the congregation not to watch a (then) forthcoming
television
programme, because it wouldn’t be encouraging to the Christian faith. Never
mind the fact that it would constitute a ‘water cooler moment’ at work the next
day, a real talking point, he told Christians to steer clear.

We need to address the fear. The First Letter of John has
the perspective we need:

You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them,
because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world (1
John 4:4).

Step out. Stop being afraid of non-Christians. Of course,
there are Bad People out there. But unless we live between Samaria and Galilee,
we shall not meet the outcasts of today who need the love of God. For like the ‘lepers’
of Jesus’ day, we cannot wait for them to come to us: they will not come.

2. Go To The Priests
The second movement is what Jesus tells the leprous men to do:

When he saw them, he said to them, ‘Go and show yourselves to
the priests.’ And as they went, they were made clean (verse 14).

Note that Jesus sees
the lepers. He must see their condition. He knows their problem. He calls for a
real act of trust in sending them to the priests: off they go without seeing
any change in their skin. It’s rather like Elisha commanding Naaman to wash
seven times in the Jordan. Madness!

But on another level, it isn’t madness at all. As the lepers
obediently go (and what did they have to lose?), they are healed. Yet I am sure
you will know it is significant they are sent to the priests. A priest had the right to declare a leper clean, and
thus able to rejoin the community of faith. A priest alone could pronounce
someone an outcast no more.

So this healing is far from the nonsense perpetrated by some
Christians who say, ‘You’ve been healed – just throw away your pills.’ This is
a verifiable act of healing, and the priests will confirm it independently.
Believing in Jesus calls for faith, it doesn’t call for fiction. It means
trusting him enough to obey him, but it doesn’t mean a game of make-believe.

What does this mean for those of us called by Jesus to share
in the mission of God? I think it includes the need to be both hopeful and
honest. Hopeful in this sense – that just as Jesus blessed people whether they
were from Samaria or Galilee, so do we. When we encounter someone in need, we
offer help if we can. And whether we can or we can’t, we offer to pray for
them. Maybe we feel nervous about suggesting we pray for someone: how will they
react? Will they think we have a screw loose? More likely, unless their name is
something like Richard Dawkins, they will probably be pleased. Whether you pray
right then with them or not is a judgment call at the time, but keep the
promise to pray.

For too long we have confined the Christian healing ministry
to the walls of a church building. But if we follow Jesus in hopeful faith,
then we take it outside the walls. My impression is there are fewer stories of
Jesus blessing people in the synagogue than other locations. We may feel as if
doing so is like toppling off a precipice. Sometimes that is because we think
God is less inclined to answer prayer when the needy person has no faith. But rarely
if ever do Jesus’ miracles depend on the one in need. More often, the question
of faith is associated with those praying. Now if that is the case, then our
prayers will be no less effective than within the Christian circle. Remember,
it was a Samaritan, not a Jew, who came back to thank Jesus. It’s time to be
hopeful!

Hopeful … and honest. Honest, because Jesus said, ‘Show
yourselves to the priests.’ No flannel. If it doesn’t happen, don’t pretend,
don’t make excuses, but keep praying. When God does bless, it will be
unmistakable. Keep hanging in there, loving, supporting and praying.

3. This Foreigner
When the ten are healed, but only the Samaritan returns, Jesus says,

‘Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?
Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?’
(Verses 17-18)

‘This foreigner’ is an over-statement as a description by a
Jew of a Samaritan. As I said earlier, Samaritans were regarded as ‘half-foreign,
Israelites of doubtful descent.’ In using the expression ‘foreigner’ here,
Jesus is deploying ‘the term used in the temple inscription that forbade the
entry of foreigners into the Jerusalem temple’[2].

If Jesus speaks about the Samaritan like this, then he has a
radically different view of access to the Temple. ‘This foreigner’ gets to praise
God and thank Jesus as a sign of his faith. So Jesus is not imagining the
Temple as a stone fortress, with all sorts of defences to keep out various
undesirables or inferiors, such as Gentiles or women. For him, there is no ‘Court
of the Gentiles’, beyond which they may not go. Jesus’ Temple is not a
defensive castle. It is more like a marquee with open flaps. Boundaries are
clearly there, but there’s an open invitation to peek at what’s happening, and
even come inside.

What is the challenge for us here? It is to make our church
communities less like castles and more like marquees. It is about reducing the
obstacles to finding faith.

Now I have to be careful here. I do not mean that we throw
away those parts of our faith that some people find intellectually difficult.
Nor do I mean that we shape our faith according to popular social morality. But
I do mean that we take down some other barriers.

We dismantle the barrier named ‘Holier Than Thou.’ How many
times have we heard people say they are not good enough for church? Of course,
we respond by saying that it isn’t like that, but this has not just to be said,
but modelled as well. It means a vulnerability, openness and honesty before
people, if they are to see what we are truly like. And that means building deep
relationships with those ‘outside the Temple’.

We take down the barricades that mean children start leaving
the community of faith before the age of eleven. We stop treating their
activities as simply what they do before graduating to ‘real church.’ We won’t
simply impart information to them, but invite them to get stuck into practical
Christian action. Remember, Jesus taught his disciples by getting their hands
dirty in mission and service. That is just as possible in appropriate ways with
children as it is with adults. We’ll listen to their concerns and help them see
where the Gospel connects with them and challenges them.

In all this, we need to be relevant and down-to-earth. Yet we
cannot reduce our vision of God. Quite the reverse. C S Lewis had a beautiful way of putting it
in one of the Narnia novels, ‘Prince
Caspian’:

Lucy awakes from a deep sleep and is compelled to get up by
the sound of a voice calling her name. She follows the sound and shortly
encounters the great lion himself:

‘Aslan, you’re bigger,’ she said.

‘That’s because you’re older, little one,’ answered he.

‘Not because you are?’

‘I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.’[3]

It’s not all about answers, solutions, techniques and
packaging up everything. Curiously, the Temple remains more accessible if we
continue to embrace mystery. A God who is bigger, stranger and more mysterious
than we can ever conceive. One we can never pin down, although we can be
confident of certain things about him – especially his redeeming love in
Christ. We commend this God as we walk daily between Samaria and Galilee, as we
meet today’s lepers with the love of God and send them in hope and honesty to
the priests.

[2] Ibid.

[3] C S Lewis, Prince
Caspian, quoted in Ruth Hassall and Ian Macdonald, Effective
Ministry To Tweenagers, p 17.

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Tomorrow’s Sermon: A Map Of Mission

Luke 17:11-19

Introduction
The day we went on holiday this August was manic. I had to take a funeral at lunchtime.
When I returned, Debbie said to me, ‘Get changed as fast as you can, there’s
been a crash on the M25. You navigate, I’ll drive.’

It was natural for me to navigate. As a man, I am the better
map-reader. Of course, equally as a man, I can only do one thing at a time!

Well, perhaps some will forgive me, then, if I describe
today’s sermon as ‘A Map of Mission.’
There are geographical features in this story, and they give us images of God’s
mission, as practised by Jesus.

1. Between Samaria
and Galilee
The story starts with a geographical note:

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region
between Samaria and Galilee (verse 11).

The action takes place ‘between Samaria and Galilee.’ That
accounts for the mixed group of lepers, both Jewish and Samaritan. Jesus would
never have reached such a group unless he had been ‘between Samaria and
Galilee.’ Galilee, where Jesus had based himself early on (Capernaum), chosen
the apostles and conducted much of his early ministry. Galilee in Judea, part
of the Jewish homeland. Samaria, on the other hand, home (in the eyes of Jews)
of spiritual deviants and heretics, home to the Samaritans, who were regarded
as ‘half-foreign, Israelites of doubtful descent’[1].

So where would be more comfortable? Galilee, surely.  Jesus would be with his own kind there. It would
be like structuring your whole life around church and your Christian friends. The
company of like-minded people who care about you is an attractive proposition. But
Jesus cannot stay there forever. Even on his way to Jerusalem, the capital of
his native Judea, he rides the boundaries between Samaria and Galilee.

I suggest you that is exactly what God calls us to do, in
following the example of Jesus.  He calls
us to surf between the comfort zone of those who share our faith, and the
people whom we might despise. That puts us in a place to meet people in need, and
demonstrate God’s love. Had Jesus remained in Galilee, he would not have met
these lepers; they would not have been healed; and the Samaritan leper would
not have found saving faith.

Why should we live ‘between Samaria and Galilee’? Just as
the lepers are desperate for help – they call out for mercy (verse 13), so
there are many crying out, but perhaps not knowing what Jesus can do for them. Even
the lepers here don’t completely know – their cry for mercy is a standard
request for alms.

So it isn’t just ‘why’, it’s ‘how’: how do we live between
Samaria and Galilee? I think it starts with dispensing with fear. Some
Christians have a naïve image of life, that everyone in the church is Good, and
everyone outside is Bad. They become fearful that we will be contaminated, and
unable to resist. So they counsel an avoidance of non-Christians. I witnessed
this a couple of times when I had a sabbatical, and we worshipped at a Baptist
church. One retired minister counselled the congregation not to watch a (then) forthcoming
television
programme, because it wouldn’t be encouraging to the Christian faith. Never
mind the fact that it would constitute a ‘water cooler moment’ at work the next
day, a real talking point, he told Christians to steer clear.

We need to address the fear. The First Letter of John has
the perspective we need:

You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them,
because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world (1
John 4:4).

Step out. Stop being afraid of non-Christians. Of course,
there are Bad People out there. But unless we live between Samaria and Galilee,
we shall not meet the outcasts of today who need the love of God. For like the ‘lepers’
of Jesus’ day, we cannot wait for them to come to us: they will not come.

2. Go To The Priests
The second movement is what Jesus tells the leprous men to do:

When he saw them, he said to them, ‘Go and show yourselves to
the priests.’ And as they went, they were made clean (verse 14).

Note that Jesus sees
the lepers. He must see their condition. He knows their problem. He calls for a
real act of trust in sending them to the priests: off they go without seeing
any change in their skin. It’s rather like Elisha commanding Naaman to wash
seven times in the Jordan. Madness!

But on another level, it isn’t madness at all. As the lepers
obediently go (and what did they have to lose?), they are healed. Yet I am sure
you will know it is significant they are sent to the priests. A priest had the right to declare a leper clean, and
thus able to rejoin the community of faith. A priest alone could pronounce
someone an outcast no more.

So this healing is far from the nonsense perpetrated by some
Christians who say, ‘You’ve been healed – just throw away your pills.’ This is
a verifiable act of healing, and the priests will confirm it independently.
Believing in Jesus calls for faith, it doesn’t call for fiction. It means
trusting him enough to obey him, but it doesn’t mean a game of make-believe.

What does this mean for those of us called by Jesus to share
in the mission of God? I think it includes the need to be both hopeful and
honest. Hopeful in this sense – that just as Jesus blessed people whether they
were from Samaria or Galilee, so do we. When we encounter someone in need, we
offer help if we can. And whether we can or we can’t, we offer to pray for
them. Maybe we feel nervous about suggesting we pray for someone: how will they
react? Will they think we have a screw loose? More likely, unless their name is
something like Richard Dawkins, they will probably be pleased. Whether you pray
right then with them or not is a judgment call at the time, but keep the
promise to pray.

For too long we have confined the Christian healing ministry
to the walls of a church building. But if we follow Jesus in hopeful faith,
then we take it outside the walls. My impression is there are fewer stories of
Jesus blessing people in the synagogue than other locations. We may feel as if
doing so is like toppling off a precipice. Sometimes that is because we think
God is less inclined to answer prayer when the needy person has no faith. But rarely
if ever do Jesus’ miracles depend on the one in need. More often, the question
of faith is associated with those praying. Now if that is the case, then our
prayers will be no less effective than within the Christian circle. Remember,
it was a Samaritan, not a Jew, who came back to thank Jesus. It’s time to be
hopeful!

Hopeful … and honest. Honest, because Jesus said, ‘Show
yourselves to the priests.’ No flannel. If it doesn’t happen, don’t pretend,
don’t make excuses, but keep praying. When God does bless, it will be
unmistakable. Keep hanging in there, loving, supporting and praying.

3. This Foreigner
When the ten are healed, but only the Samaritan returns, Jesus says,

‘Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?
Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?’
(Verses 17-18)

‘This foreigner’ is an over-statement as a description by a
Jew of a Samaritan. As I said earlier, Samaritans were regarded as ‘half-foreign,
Israelites of doubtful descent.’ In using the expression ‘foreigner’ here,
Jesus is deploying ‘the term used in the temple inscription that forbade the
entry of foreigners into the Jerusalem temple’[2].

If Jesus speaks about the Samaritan like this, then he has a
radically different view of access to the Temple. ‘This foreigner’ gets to praise
God and thank Jesus as a sign of his faith. So Jesus is not imagining the
Temple as a stone fortress, with all sorts of defences to keep out various
undesirables or inferiors, such as Gentiles or women. For him, there is no ‘Court
of the Gentiles’, beyond which they may not go. Jesus’ Temple is not a
defensive castle. It is more like a marquee with open flaps. Boundaries are
clearly there, but there’s an open invitation to peek at what’s happening, and
even come inside.

What is the challenge for us here? It is to make our church
communities less like castles and more like marquees. It is about reducing the
obstacles to finding faith.

Now I have to be careful here. I do not mean that we throw
away those parts of our faith that some people find intellectually difficult.
Nor do I mean that we shape our faith according to popular social morality. But
I do mean that we take down some other barriers.

We dismantle the barrier named ‘Holier Than Thou.’ How many
times have we heard people say they are not good enough for church? Of course,
we respond by saying that it isn’t like that, but this has not just to be said,
but modelled as well. It means a vulnerability, openness and honesty before
people, if they are to see what we are truly like. And that means building deep
relationships with those ‘outside the Temple’.

We take down the barricades that mean children start leaving
the community of faith before the age of eleven. We stop treating their
activities as simply what they do before graduating to ‘real church.’ We won’t
simply impart information to them, but invite them to get stuck into practical
Christian action. Remember, Jesus taught his disciples by getting their hands
dirty in mission and service. That is just as possible in appropriate ways with
children as it is with adults. We’ll listen to their concerns and help them see
where the Gospel connects with them and challenges them.

In all this, we need to be relevant and down-to-earth. Yet we
cannot reduce our vision of God. Quite the reverse. C S Lewis had a beautiful way of putting it
in one of the Narnia novels, ‘Prince
Caspian’:

Lucy awakes from a deep sleep and is compelled to get up by
the sound of a voice calling her name. She follows the sound and shortly
encounters the great lion himself:

‘Aslan, you’re bigger,’ she said.

‘That’s because you’re older, little one,’ answered he.

‘Not because you are?’

‘I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.’[3]

It’s not all about answers, solutions, techniques and
packaging up everything. Curiously, the Temple remains more accessible if we
continue to embrace mystery. A God who is bigger, stranger and more mysterious
than we can ever conceive. One we can never pin down, although we can be
confident of certain things about him – especially his redeeming love in
Christ. We commend this God as we walk daily between Samaria and Galilee, as we
meet today’s lepers with the love of God and send them in hope and honesty to
the priests.

[2] Ibid.

[3] C S Lewis, Prince
Caspian, quoted in Ruth Hassall and Ian Macdonald, Effective
Ministry To Tweenagers, p 17.

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