Lonely and Low-Risk? – LeadershipJournal.net The longer you are in ministry the less likely you are to take risks and the more likely you are to have fewer friends. A sobering short piece.
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Tomorrow’s Sermon: The Prodigal Son, A Missionary Interpretation
Introduction
Trust the Lectionary to use Mothering Sunday as the occasion to throw up a Gospel story about a father. (Although note Sally Coleman’s imaginative retelling of ‘A Mother’s Tale’.)And a story that is so familiar, too.
So let me use this famous parable to explore the mission of Jesus, as he justifies it here, and as he calls us to participate. And let me approach it as I generally do the parables, with these principles:
1. Christians classically believe that ‘Jesus is the answer’ – the answer to the world’s problems and to individual need, and so he is. But in the parables and elsewhere it’s less a case of ‘Jesus is the answer’ and more a matter of ‘Jesus is the question’. I’d like us to see this parable as one where Jesus is posing us some challenging questions.
2. Rather than talking about whether we know the Bible, the parables can be stories where it’s truer to say that the Bible knows us – or, better, that Jesus knows us. So if we reflect on the characters in the parable we may see Christ’s revelatory insight. And because we may each see ourselves in different people and places in the parables I resist the popular idea that parables only make one point.
3. I also don’t believe that we should approach the parables as cosy, comfortable stories. Early on in my preaching experience I heard a minister say that the key to understanding the parables was to look for the shock. And that’s what I want to do with this parable.
The questions, the characters and the shocks, then, are my keys to reflecting on the parables. We’ll bear in mind the questions and the shocks while looking at the characters – the younger son, the elder son and the father.
1. The Younger Son
‘I want you dead.’ That – I think – is what the younger son says. He wants his share of his father’s inheritance – so Dad might as well be dead. Does that sound familiar or not? There are people who wish their parents dead, but perhaps more who wish God dead.
And there are plenty who – although they would deny they want the demise of the parents – cannot wait to get their hands on what will be theirs in the will. When we come across such families where there is a war to grab as much of the family silver as possible we recoil in horror. It doesn’t need to involve the vast sums of money as when the former model Anna Nicole Smith recently died and the fights began for her money and for custody of her infant daughter – so similar to when Smith’s eighty-nine-year old billionaire husband died a year after their marriage. No, we can witness this kind of grabbing for money in ordinary families, too.
But even if we look on with disapproval at this behaviour the young man is still closer to some of us than we might like to acknowledge. His attitude, in the words of a song by Queen, is, ‘I want it all and I want it now.’ And that’s very contemporary. We see something and have to have it instantly. Gone is the culture that saved assiduously before buying something. Now, if we have the money we ‘splash the cash’. And if we don’t, there’s a rectangular plastic card with curved edges in our pockets that will enable us to take it away. Buy now, debt problems later.
Now imagine how such a young son would be viewed in Jesus’ time, when respect for parents and elders was a much stronger value than it is today. Jesus’ hearers are not going to be sympathetic to this man. They will be scandalised by his request and further horrified when he gets his way. And once he does they are glad he leaves town. They wouldn’t want someone like him back. He can go. He is as good as dead to them.
He goes to ‘a distant country’ – good as far as Jesus’ listeners are concerned, the further away the better. But how many of us cry tears over children who literally or figuratively have gone to ‘a distant country’?
And if that isn’t bad enough, look what happens to him when he is down on his luck. He ends up with the pigs. Jesus is telling this story to a Jewish audience: pigs are the epitome of uncleanness. You will recall the prohibitions in Old Testament law against eating pigs: the younger son is so hungry that he would eat the pigs’ food if he could. How shocking is that to Jesus’ audience? It’s like us hearing that a young woman is so desperately short of money that she enters prostitution. It’s like hearing the tragic stories of poverty-stricken families who sell their children into slavery.
This is how bad it has got for the younger son. He is a selfish man who wishes his father dead, he wants instant gratification and when it all goes wrong he resorts to ethically questionable survival methods. He is not what has commonly been called ‘the deserving poor’. He is one of the ‘undeserving poor’. Imagine the response of many people to the story of the 42 stone Chelmsford mother who claims she is being left to die by the National Health Service. Many think she is not deserving of treatment; Jesus’ hearers will have a similar attitude to the younger son. He doesn’t deserve love or assistance.
And presumably he’s just the sort of person we wouldn’t want in our churches. Isn’t he? In terms of our mission isn’t he the kind of character we should be prophetically condemning as a blight on society, as one who is causing the breakdown of our culture and civilisation?
2. The Elder Son
The elder son, on the other hand, is the paragon of virtue. He is all that his younger brother is not. He has not demanded his share of the inheritance (and he was entitled to twice as much under Jewish custom – he stood to gain more). He has stayed loyally working for his father. He is a pillar of society, hard working and dependable. We need more people like him, don’t we? Surely he would have been one of the younger men they would have had their eye on in the synagogue, just as surely as we would welcome people like him into church membership and leadership. He’ll get his hands dirty when we need a willing volunteer. We need fine, upstanding, morally upright people like this at the heart of our churches and societies. Don’t we?
And yet we can’t read about the elder son pretending we haven’t heard the story before. And so we’re uncomfortable with him. I once preached on this story at the beginning of a sermon series on the parables and a woman said to me that her husband couldn’t ever listen to this one because he always saw himself as the elder son.
And perhaps he wasn’t alone. Maybe there are many ‘elder sons’ in our churches. Loyal, faithful, generous givers, solid people without anything flaky in their characters. If a job needs doing you can be sure the elder son will volunteer, however many other responsibilities he is carrying at the same time. And yet, and yet …
… he has a weak point. Touch him on the subject of his younger brother and you will feel the pain. ‘It isn’t fair.’ However mature he looks on the outside, out comes a raw reaction from the inner child. ‘He doesn’t deserve a party when I haven’t had one. Look at the mess he’s made of his life and your money, Dad.’
Jealousy and injustice – just like a small boy. A small boy who does not know grace. And if he can’t have a party then no-one else can, especially not one of those uncouth undeserving types who are lowering the tone around here.
And so I suspect my friend’s husband isn’t the only ‘elder son’ in our churches. We become elder sons when we cross the line from moral principle to self-righteousness and forget that we are sinners saved by grace. Indeed elder sons tend to be unfamiliar with grace. I recall being on my last Methodist Guild Holiday with my parents, when I had not long started to work in what was then still called the Department of Health and Social Security. A woman on the holiday asked me what my job was and I told her I worked in Social Security. ‘At least you’re on the right side of the counter,’ she said – just like an elder son.
Elder sons characteristically think that their hard work for the Father is what earns his approval, and this is their fatal mistake. The Father loves, not because people earn his favour: he loves because he loves.
And that’s the missionary crux of the parable – the mission of Jesus is all about grace. It’s all about undeserved mercy. The whole message is of love richly lavished on the last, the least and the unlikely …
3. The Father
… And so the climax of the parable is the character of the Father. We know this story as ‘The Prodigal Son’ but the great German preacher Helmut Thielicke called his sermon on it ‘The Waiting Father’. If we’re shocked by the dissolute behaviour of the younger son; if we’re scandalised by the elder son’s self-righteousness; just wait until we see how outrageous the father is in Jesus’ story.
He doesn’t cut the younger son off from the family. Far from it. He is waiting and looking for his wayward son’s return. The culture dictated that such a father should wait at home for the move to come from the errant child. But no, he goes out looking.
And when the son comes into sight over the horizon he girds up his robe and runs to embrace him. Again, it’s the opposite of cultural expectations, which would have dictated the father remain standing, arms folded, so to speak, while the son came and prostrated himself in utter humiliation. The younger son knew this and attempted this posture. But for the father this is not a time for dignity. For a father to run and kiss his son as this one does in Jesus’ story is the very depth of undignified behaviour. It breaks etiquette, it’s bad manners, and you can bet the neighbours are watching with disapproval from behind the first century Palestinian equivalent of net curtains.
But of course Jesus is giving us a vivid and, yes, shocking picture of God. Contrary to certain crude pictures of him, God is not waiting until we have grovelled enough before grudgingly forgiving us. He is actively looking for our return and longing with love for us to find a way back to him.
And when people return to him he does not make them servants, he confers the status of beloved children. The prodigals are family to the Father. And such is his delight that his instinct is to repudiate all sense of standing on ceremony in favour of wildly throwing his arms around his children and splashing out on party.
He is the God of what one songwriter called ‘Outrageous Grace’. His outrageous grace is spent without regard for cost on the prodigals. And his outrageous grace outrages elder sons, to whom he was speaking – for the beginning of Luke 15 shows Jesus responding to the criticisms of the Pharisees and scribes that Jesus welcomed tax collectors and ‘sinners’ and even ate with them. It’s an experience a vicar friend of mine recently had when after a service someone in his congregation accused him of having ‘too much gospel’ in the service. And although the parable ends with the father telling the elder son why they had to celebrate, we know what the response of the real-life elder sons, the Pharisees and scribes was. It was, ‘We’re going to kill you.’
But it is this Father, this God of outrageous grace, is the model for our mission. He is the one who is actively looking for prodigals – those who are not respectable, the disreputable, the wasters and losers. He sings the song that woos them home. He prepares the feast and is on the starting block ready to sprint towards them.
And he offers the same outrageous grace to the elder sons whose hearts are hardened towards the prodigals. For he knows that only grace like his can soften such hearts, if they will consent. For those of us in the church who have elder son tendencies our greatest need is to encounter the Father of outrageous grace who persists in offering his love even when we threaten to kill him, because it doesn’t match up with our idea that divine approval should be earned by good performance. But he goes on offering, even as our ‘no’ to his grace puts his Son on a cross.
So it is embracing the heart of this Father that is the key to Christian mission. We may be prodigals, lurking nervously in the shadows of the Christian community. But his voice is the one that says ‘Welcome’ above the noises of those who would shut us out.
And for the rest of us he enables us to see prodigals as he does, and reach out with his love, for that is to reflect his heart. And where we mirror the elder son it is his desire that his grace softens such hearts so that we may become partners in his mission and not his opponents.
Technorati Tags: Lectionary, MotheringSunday, SallyColeman, parables, ProdigalSon, AnnaNicoleSmith, Queen, HelmutThielicke, GodfreyBirtill, mission
Tomorrow’s Sermon: The Prodigal Son, A Missionary Interpretation
Introduction
Trust the Lectionary to use Mothering Sunday as the occasion to throw up a Gospel story about a father. (Although note Sally Coleman’s imaginative retelling of ‘A Mother’s Tale’.)And a story that is so familiar, too.
So let me use this famous parable to explore the mission of Jesus, as he justifies it here, and as he calls us to participate. And let me approach it as I generally do the parables, with these principles:
1. Christians classically believe that ‘Jesus is the answer’ – the answer to the world’s problems and to individual need, and so he is. But in the parables and elsewhere it’s less a case of ‘Jesus is the answer’ and more a matter of ‘Jesus is the question’. I’d like us to see this parable as one where Jesus is posing us some challenging questions.
2. Rather than talking about whether we know the Bible, the parables can be stories where it’s truer to say that the Bible knows us – or, better, that Jesus knows us. So if we reflect on the characters in the parable we may see Christ’s revelatory insight. And because we may each see ourselves in different people and places in the parables I resist the popular idea that parables only make one point.
3. I also don’t believe that we should approach the parables as cosy, comfortable stories. Early on in my preaching experience I heard a minister say that the key to understanding the parables was to look for the shock. And that’s what I want to do with this parable.
The questions, the characters and the shocks, then, are my keys to reflecting on the parables. We’ll bear in mind the questions and the shocks while looking at the characters – the younger son, the elder son and the father.
1. The Younger Son
‘I want you dead.’ That – I think – is what the younger son says. He wants his share of his father’s inheritance – so Dad might as well be dead. Does that sound familiar or not? There are people who wish their parents dead, but perhaps more who wish God dead.
And there are plenty who – although they would deny they want the demise of the parents – cannot wait to get their hands on what will be theirs in the will. When we come across such families where there is a war to grab as much of the family silver as possible we recoil in horror. It doesn’t need to involve the vast sums of money as when the former model Anna Nicole Smith recently died and the fights began for her money and for custody of her infant daughter – so similar to when Smith’s eighty-nine-year old billionaire husband died a year after their marriage. No, we can witness this kind of grabbing for money in ordinary families, too.
But even if we look on with disapproval at this behaviour the young man is still closer to some of us than we might like to acknowledge. His attitude, in the words of a song by Queen, is, ‘I want it all and I want it now.’ And that’s very contemporary. We see something and have to have it instantly. Gone is the culture that saved assiduously before buying something. Now, if we have the money we ‘splash the cash’. And if we don’t, there’s a rectangular plastic card with curved edges in our pockets that will enable us to take it away. Buy now, debt problems later.
Now imagine how such a young son would be viewed in Jesus’ time, when respect for parents and elders was a much stronger value than it is today. Jesus’ hearers are not going to be sympathetic to this man. They will be scandalised by his request and further horrified when he gets his way. And once he does they are glad he leaves town. They wouldn’t want someone like him back. He can go. He is as good as dead to them.
He goes to ‘a distant country’ – good as far as Jesus’ listeners are concerned, the further away the better. But how many of us cry tears over children who literally or figuratively have gone to ‘a distant country’?
And if that isn’t bad enough, look what happens to him when he is down on his luck. He ends up with the pigs. Jesus is telling this story to a Jewish audience: pigs are the epitome of uncleanness. You will recall the prohibitions in Old Testament law against eating pigs: the younger son is so hungry that he would eat the pigs’ food if he could. How shocking is that to Jesus’ audience? It’s like us hearing that a young woman is so desperately short of money that she enters prostitution. It’s like hearing the tragic stories of poverty-stricken families who sell their children into slavery.
This is how bad it has got for the younger son. He is a selfish man who wishes his father dead, he wants instant gratification and when it all goes wrong he resorts to ethically questionable survival methods. He is not what has commonly been called ‘the deserving poor’. He is one of the ‘undeserving poor’. Imagine the response of many people to the story of the 42 stone Chelmsford mother who claims she is being left to die by the National Health Service. Many think she is not deserving of treatment; Jesus’ hearers will have a similar attitude to the younger son. He doesn’t deserve love or assistance.
And presumably he’s just the sort of person we wouldn’t want in our churches. Isn’t he? In terms of our mission isn’t he the kind of character we should be prophetically condemning as a blight on society, as one who is causing the breakdown of our culture and civilisation?
2. The Elder Son
The elder son, on the other hand, is the paragon of virtue. He is all that his younger brother is not. He has not demanded his share of the inheritance (and he was entitled to twice as much under Jewish custom – he stood to gain more). He has stayed loyally working for his father. He is a pillar of society, hard working and dependable. We need more people like him, don’t we? Surely he would have been one of the younger men they would have had their eye on in the synagogue, just as surely as we would welcome people like him into church membership and leadership. He’ll get his hands dirty when we need a willing volunteer. We need fine, upstanding, morally upright people like this at the heart of our churches and societies. Don’t we?
And yet we can’t read about the elder son pretending we haven’t heard the story before. And so we’re uncomfortable with him. I once preached on this story at the beginning of a sermon series on the parables and a woman said to me that her husband couldn’t ever listen to this one because he always saw himself as the elder son.
And perhaps he wasn’t alone. Maybe there are many ‘elder sons’ in our churches. Loyal, faithful, generous givers, solid people without anything flaky in their characters. If a job needs doing you can be sure the elder son will volunteer, however many other responsibilities he is carrying at the same time. And yet, and yet …
… he has a weak point. Touch him on the subject of his younger brother and you will feel the pain. ‘It isn’t fair.’ However mature he looks on the outside, out comes a raw reaction from the inner child. ‘He doesn’t deserve a party when I haven’t had one. Look at the mess he’s made of his life and your money, Dad.’
Jealousy and injustice – just like a small boy. A small boy who does not know grace. And if he can’t have a party then no-one else can, especially not one of those uncouth undeserving types who are lowering the tone around here.
And so I suspect my friend’s husband isn’t the only ‘elder son’ in our churches. We become elder sons when we cross the line from moral principle to self-righteousness and forget that we are sinners saved by grace. Indeed elder sons tend to be unfamiliar with grace. I recall being on my last Methodist Guild Holiday with my parents, when I had not long started to work in what was then still called the Department of Health and Social Security. A woman on the holiday asked me what my job was and I told her I worked in Social Security. ‘At least you’re on the right side of the counter,’ she said – just like an elder son.
Elder sons characteristically think that their hard work for the Father is what earns his approval, and this is their fatal mistake. The Father loves, not because people earn his favour: he loves because he loves.
And that’s the missionary crux of the parable – the mission of Jesus is all about grace. It’s all about undeserved mercy. The whole message is of love richly lavished on the last, the least and the unlikely …
3. The Father
… And so the climax of the parable is the character of the Father. We know this story as ‘The Prodigal Son’ but the great German preacher Helmut Thielicke called his sermon on it ‘The Waiting Father’. If we’re shocked by the dissolute behaviour of the younger son; if we’re scandalised by the elder son’s self-righteousness; just wait until we see how outrageous the father is in Jesus’ story.
He doesn’t cut the younger son off from the family. Far from it. He is waiting and looking for his wayward son’s return. The culture dictated that such a father should wait at home for the move to come from the errant child. But no, he goes out looking.
And when the son comes into sight over the horizon he girds up his robe and runs to embrace him. Again, it’s the opposite of cultural expectations, which would have dictated the father remain standing, arms folded, so to speak, while the son came and prostrated himself in utter humiliation. The younger son knew this and attempted this posture. But for the father this is not a time for dignity. For a father to run and kiss his son as this one does in Jesus’ story is the very depth of undignified behaviour. It breaks etiquette, it’s bad manners, and you can bet the neighbours are watching with disapproval from behind the first century Palestinian equivalent of net curtains.
But of course Jesus is giving us a vivid and, yes, shocking picture of God. Contrary to certain crude pictures of him, God is not waiting until we have grovelled enough before grudgingly forgiving us. He is actively looking for our return and longing with love for us to find a way back to him.
And when people return to him he does not make them servants, he confers the status of beloved children. The prodigals are family to the Father. And such is his delight that his instinct is to repudiate all sense of standing on ceremony in favour of wildly throwing his arms around his children and splashing out on party.
He is the God of what one songwriter called ‘Outrageous Grace’. His outrageous grace is spent without regard for cost on the prodigals. And his outrageous grace outrages elder sons, to whom he was speaking – for the beginning of Luke 15 shows Jesus responding to the criticisms of the Pharisees and scribes that Jesus welcomed tax collectors and ‘sinners’ and even ate with them. It’s an experience a vicar friend of mine recently had when after a service someone in his congregation accused him of having ‘too much gospel’ in the service. And although the parable ends with the father telling the elder son why they had to celebrate, we know what the response of the real-life elder sons, the Pharisees and scribes was. It was, ‘We’re going to kill you.’
But it is this Father, this God of outrageous grace, is the model for our mission. He is the one who is actively looking for prodigals – those who are not respectable, the disreputable, the wasters and losers. He sings the song that woos them home. He prepares the feast and is on the starting block ready to sprint towards them.
And he offers the same outrageous grace to the elder sons whose hearts are hardened towards the prodigals. For he knows that only grace like his can soften such hearts, if they will consent. For those of us in the church who have elder son tendencies our greatest need is to encounter the Father of outrageous grace who persists in offering his love even when we threaten to kill him, because it doesn’t match up with our idea that divine approval should be earned by good performance. But he goes on offering, even as our ‘no’ to his grace puts his Son on a cross.
So it is embracing the heart of this Father that is the key to Christian mission. We may be prodigals, lurking nervously in the shadows of the Christian community. But his voice is the one that says ‘Welcome’ above the noises of those who would shut us out.
And for the rest of us he enables us to see prodigals as he does, and reach out with his love, for that is to reflect his heart. And where we mirror the elder son it is his desire that his grace softens such hearts so that we may become partners in his mission and not his opponents.
Technorati Tags: Lectionary, MotheringSunday, SallyColeman, parables, ProdigalSon, AnnaNicoleSmith, Queen, HelmutThielicke, GodfreyBirtill, mission
Tomorrow’s Sermon: The Prodigal Son, A Missionary Interpretation
Introduction
Trust the Lectionary to use Mothering Sunday as the occasion to throw up a Gospel story about a father. (Although note Sally Coleman’s imaginative retelling of ‘A Mother’s Tale’.)And a story that is so familiar, too.
So let me use this famous parable to explore the mission of Jesus, as he justifies it here, and as he calls us to participate. And let me approach it as I generally do the parables, with these principles:
1. Christians classically believe that ‘Jesus is the answer’ – the answer to the world’s problems and to individual need, and so he is. But in the parables and elsewhere it’s less a case of ‘Jesus is the answer’ and more a matter of ‘Jesus is the question’. I’d like us to see this parable as one where Jesus is posing us some challenging questions.
2. Rather than talking about whether we know the Bible, the parables can be stories where it’s truer to say that the Bible knows us – or, better, that Jesus knows us. So if we reflect on the characters in the parable we may see Christ’s revelatory insight. And because we may each see ourselves in different people and places in the parables I resist the popular idea that parables only make one point.
3. I also don’t believe that we should approach the parables as cosy, comfortable stories. Early on in my preaching experience I heard a minister say that the key to understanding the parables was to look for the shock. And that’s what I want to do with this parable.
The questions, the characters and the shocks, then, are my keys to reflecting on the parables. We’ll bear in mind the questions and the shocks while looking at the characters – the younger son, the elder son and the father.
1. The Younger Son
‘I want you dead.’ That – I think – is what the younger son says. He wants his share of his father’s inheritance – so Dad might as well be dead. Does that sound familiar or not? There are people who wish their parents dead, but perhaps more who wish God dead.
And there are plenty who – although they would deny they want the demise of the parents – cannot wait to get their hands on what will be theirs in the will. When we come across such families where there is a war to grab as much of the family silver as possible we recoil in horror. It doesn’t need to involve the vast sums of money as when the former model Anna Nicole Smith recently died and the fights began for her money and for custody of her infant daughter – so similar to when Smith’s eighty-nine-year old billionaire husband died a year after their marriage. No, we can witness this kind of grabbing for money in ordinary families, too.
But even if we look on with disapproval at this behaviour the young man is still closer to some of us than we might like to acknowledge. His attitude, in the words of a song by Queen, is, ‘I want it all and I want it now.’ And that’s very contemporary. We see something and have to have it instantly. Gone is the culture that saved assiduously before buying something. Now, if we have the money we ‘splash the cash’. And if we don’t, there’s a rectangular plastic card with curved edges in our pockets that will enable us to take it away. Buy now, debt problems later.
Now imagine how such a young son would be viewed in Jesus’ time, when respect for parents and elders was a much stronger value than it is today. Jesus’ hearers are not going to be sympathetic to this man. They will be scandalised by his request and further horrified when he gets his way. And once he does they are glad he leaves town. They wouldn’t want someone like him back. He can go. He is as good as dead to them.
He goes to ‘a distant country’ – good as far as Jesus’ listeners are concerned, the further away the better. But how many of us cry tears over children who literally or figuratively have gone to ‘a distant country’?
And if that isn’t bad enough, look what happens to him when he is down on his luck. He ends up with the pigs. Jesus is telling this story to a Jewish audience: pigs are the epitome of uncleanness. You will recall the prohibitions in Old Testament law against eating pigs: the younger son is so hungry that he would eat the pigs’ food if he could. How shocking is that to Jesus’ audience? It’s like us hearing that a young woman is so desperately short of money that she enters prostitution. It’s like hearing the tragic stories of poverty-stricken families who sell their children into slavery.
This is how bad it has got for the younger son. He is a selfish man who wishes his father dead, he wants instant gratification and when it all goes wrong he resorts to ethically questionable survival methods. He is not what has commonly been called ‘the deserving poor’. He is one of the ‘undeserving poor’. Imagine the response of many people to the story of the 42 stone Chelmsford mother who claims she is being left to die by the National Health Service. Many think she is not deserving of treatment; Jesus’ hearers will have a similar attitude to the younger son. He doesn’t deserve love or assistance.
And presumably he’s just the sort of person we wouldn’t want in our churches. Isn’t he? In terms of our mission isn’t he the kind of character we should be prophetically condemning as a blight on society, as one who is causing the breakdown of our culture and civilisation?
2. The Elder Son
The elder son, on the other hand, is the paragon of virtue. He is all that his younger brother is not. He has not demanded his share of the inheritance (and he was entitled to twice as much under Jewish custom – he stood to gain more). He has stayed loyally working for his father. He is a pillar of society, hard working and dependable. We need more people like him, don’t we? Surely he would have been one of the younger men they would have had their eye on in the synagogue, just as surely as we would welcome people like him into church membership and leadership. He’ll get his hands dirty when we need a willing volunteer. We need fine, upstanding, morally upright people like this at the heart of our churches and societies. Don’t we?
And yet we can’t read about the elder son pretending we haven’t heard the story before. And so we’re uncomfortable with him. I once preached on this story at the beginning of a sermon series on the parables and a woman said to me that her husband couldn’t ever listen to this one because he always saw himself as the elder son.
And perhaps he wasn’t alone. Maybe there are many ‘elder sons’ in our churches. Loyal, faithful, generous givers, solid people without anything flaky in their characters. If a job needs doing you can be sure the elder son will volunteer, however many other responsibilities he is carrying at the same time. And yet, and yet …
… he has a weak point. Touch him on the subject of his younger brother and you will feel the pain. ‘It isn’t fair.’ However mature he looks on the outside, out comes a raw reaction from the inner child. ‘He doesn’t deserve a party when I haven’t had one. Look at the mess he’s made of his life and your money, Dad.’
Jealousy and injustice – just like a small boy. A small boy who does not know grace. And if he can’t have a party then no-one else can, especially not one of those uncouth undeserving types who are lowering the tone around here.
And so I suspect my friend’s husband isn’t the only ‘elder son’ in our churches. We become elder sons when we cross the line from moral principle to self-righteousness and forget that we are sinners saved by grace. Indeed elder sons tend to be unfamiliar with grace. I recall being on my last Methodist Guild Holiday with my parents, when I had not long started to work in what was then still called the Department of Health and Social Security. A woman on the holiday asked me what my job was and I told her I worked in Social Security. ‘At least you’re on the right side of the counter,’ she said – just like an elder son.
Elder sons characteristically think that their hard work for the Father is what earns his approval, and this is their fatal mistake. The Father loves, not because people earn his favour: he loves because he loves.
And that’s the missionary crux of the parable – the mission of Jesus is all about grace. It’s all about undeserved mercy. The whole message is of love richly lavished on the last, the least and the unlikely …
3. The Father
… And so the climax of the parable is the character of the Father. We know this story as ‘The Prodigal Son’ but the great German preacher Helmut Thielicke called his sermon on it ‘The Waiting Father’. If we’re shocked by the dissolute behaviour of the younger son; if we’re scandalised by the elder son’s self-righteousness; just wait until we see how outrageous the father is in Jesus’ story.
He doesn’t cut the younger son off from the family. Far from it. He is waiting and looking for his wayward son’s return. The culture dictated that such a father should wait at home for the move to come from the errant child. But no, he goes out looking.
And when the son comes into sight over the horizon he girds up his robe and runs to embrace him. Again, it’s the opposite of cultural expectations, which would have dictated the father remain standing, arms folded, so to speak, while the son came and prostrated himself in utter humiliation. The younger son knew this and attempted this posture. But for the father this is not a time for dignity. For a father to run and kiss his son as this one does in Jesus’ story is the very depth of undignified behaviour. It breaks etiquette, it’s bad manners, and you can bet the neighbours are watching with disapproval from behind the first century Palestinian equivalent of net curtains.
But of course Jesus is giving us a vivid and, yes, shocking picture of God. Contrary to certain crude pictures of him, God is not waiting until we have grovelled enough before grudgingly forgiving us. He is actively looking for our return and longing with love for us to find a way back to him.
And when people return to him he does not make them servants, he confers the status of beloved children. The prodigals are family to the Father. And such is his delight that his instinct is to repudiate all sense of standing on ceremony in favour of wildly throwing his arms around his children and splashing out on party.
He is the God of what one songwriter called ‘Outrageous Grace’. His outrageous grace is spent without regard for cost on the prodigals. And his outrageous grace outrages elder sons, to whom he was speaking – for the beginning of Luke 15 shows Jesus responding to the criticisms of the Pharisees and scribes that Jesus welcomed tax collectors and ‘sinners’ and even ate with them. It’s an experience a vicar friend of mine recently had when after a service someone in his congregation accused him of having ‘too much gospel’ in the service. And although the parable ends with the father telling the elder son why they had to celebrate, we know what the response of the real-life elder sons, the Pharisees and scribes was. It was, ‘We’re going to kill you.’
But it is this Father, this God of outrageous grace, is the model for our mission. He is the one who is actively looking for prodigals – those who are not respectable, the disreputable, the wasters and losers. He sings the song that woos them home. He prepares the feast and is on the starting block ready to sprint towards them.
And he offers the same outrageous grace to the elder sons whose hearts are hardened towards the prodigals. For he knows that only grace like his can soften such hearts, if they will consent. For those of us in the church who have elder son tendencies our greatest need is to encounter the Father of outrageous grace who persists in offering his love even when we threaten to kill him, because it doesn’t match up with our idea that divine approval should be earned by good performance. But he goes on offering, even as our ‘no’ to his grace puts his Son on a cross.
So it is embracing the heart of this Father that is the key to Christian mission. We may be prodigals, lurking nervously in the shadows of the Christian community. But his voice is the one that says ‘Welcome’ above the noises of those who would shut us out.
And for the rest of us he enables us to see prodigals as he does, and reach out with his love, for that is to reflect his heart. And where we mirror the elder son it is his desire that his grace softens such hearts so that we may become partners in his mission and not his opponents.
Technorati Tags: Lectionary, MotheringSunday, SallyColeman, parables, ProdigalSon, AnnaNicoleSmith, Queen, HelmutThielicke, GodfreyBirtill, mission
Sally Clark
The British media have been reporting in the last twenty-four hours that Sally Clark, the solicitor wrongly convicted of killing two of her children and later cleared, was found dead yesterday. There is a brief version of the full printed Times report here. It doesn’t mention what the printed version said today, namely that Mrs Clark was, or had become, a depressive alcoholic. The case is with the county coroner, a committed Christian and wife of a Baptist pastor.
I had a phone call this afternoon from a reporter on the News Of The World. He informed me that Mrs Clark had been living not in Chelmsford as widely reported but in Hatfield Peverel, where one of my churches is. Did I know her? He was looking for someone in the village who knew her and could say a kind word for a quote about her. I didn’t know her, nor did the couple in the church most likely to know everything about village life. I’m not sure what I would have been willing to say even if I had known her.
The reporter told me that he’d drawn a blank with the Anglican church, with other village organisations and with other residents of the road in which she had lived. It seems that she went into hiding and only the media and the authorities knew her address. The pain had caused as complete a withdrawal from life as possible. Perhaps she felt she could no longer trust anyone. If that is what she felt I could not blame her. If so it would have been a drastic self-protection strategy.
Thus this is not a double tragedy, as has been said – the original miscarriage of justice plus the loss of a devoted wife and mother (she and her husband had a third child) just two days before Mothering Sunday. It is a triple tragedy, for in the village would have been many kind, caring and discreet people who could have offered support and even love. I do not say that to condemn – that is the last thing to do, especially at a time like this. In Hatfield Peverel we now mourn our unknown resident, and pray for her husband and child.
Technorati Tags: Sally+Clark, Hatfield+Peverel, News+Of+The+World, Mothering+Sunday
Scheduling Meetings
Doodle is an online tool for scheduling meetings. Thanks to Bob Hyatt at PastorHacks for the link. It looks very useful.
Technorati Tags: meetings, scheduling, ministry, Doodle
Pastoral Health
Shocking American statistics from Eugene Cho – pastors are a higher risk for life insurance than munitions workers. (Link via Scot McKnight.) I don’t like singling out ministers like this, but perhaps Cho’s post connects with me due to my recent ministry experiences.
I was back in the saddle today. I preached the same sermon morning and evening. Everything was received wonderfully well in the morning at my LEP church, despite me forgetting at first the prayers of confession, failing to notice that the reader for one of the lessons had arrived and forgetting to choose music to be played during communion. It’s the church I shouldn’t fit in at really: my Anglican colleague is at the opposite end of the theological spectrum and candle from me but she is a kind and compassionate person (sorry, I don’t mean that to sound patronising) and the real beauty of the congregation is that they are wonderfully normal. They laugh and they are honest.
In contrast this evening I re-preached it at the church where I have had the tensions I recently mentioned. No reaction at all. The service (Holy Communion) lasted 1 hour 12 minutes, so that should have been acceptable to those who have grumbled about the length of my services. The sermon was done inside 20. There were, however, six hymns (and two had eight verses) – which has been cause for complaint (you’d never know ‘Methodism was born in song’) and I doggedly kept the modern text for the Lord’s Prayer (which according to one of my critics isn’t inclusive, only the ‘traditional’ version is). I guess I only hear when there’s something to complain about, rather than something worth affirming.
I gather I’m not the first minister to get this treatment there, and that relieves me – not because I wish ill on colleagues but because it highlights the pattern, makes me feel less strange and less like this is a concern for me to get strokes. It raises issues about the place of vulnerable people in this culture – not that there aren’t a good number of kind, caring folk there, because there are. More and more do I understand the preoccupation in recent years for church health ahead of church growth.
Just some gut thoughts before bedtime …
Technorati Tags: ministry, Eugene+Cho, Scot+McKnight, health
Bono Preaches
Bono receives his award from the NAACP and climbs into a pulpit here. Link via Tall Skinny Kiwi.
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A Sermon For Tomorrow Week: Lead Us Out Of Temptation
I’m starting a week’s leave tomorrow (well, it is my birthday and I had to work on it last year). So I’ve written up my sermon for tomorrow week, the Third Sunday in Lent.
Hopefully in the next few days I’ll get to blog about why I have been silent on the blog so much in the last few weeks apart from sermons. Basically it’s been to do with my health and some church troubles. But in the meantime here’s the sermon. I hope it encourages you. And if any of it is helpful to those readers who are preachers in preparing for a week’s time, then I’m all the more glad.
Introduction
A poem:
Lead me into temptation
just one more time.
Lead me up close
through circumstances
beyond my control.
Lead me then leave me.
Deliver me from escape,
increase my ignorance,
limit my will.
Make me the victim of
a victim-less crime.
Leave me ‘til sin
is the only way out,
give me a taste of
what to avoid.
Leave me ‘til it’s
your fault
yet guilt floods me
like a chill.
Then lead me back
into temptation,
just one more time.
(Steve Turner, ‘Just One More Time’, from Nice And Nasty, Marshall Morgan and Scott, 1980, p36.)
Temptation. A common theme for Lent, and one we touched on two Sundays ago when thinking about the temptations of Jesus in the wilderness. We saw then that although Jesus’ temptations seem vastly different from ours there are similarities, and what Jesus did in storing up Scripture in his mind and heart prepared him to deal with difficulties.
Paul too is concerned with how his readers face temptation. He takes the example of Israel in the wilderness as a warning. Again, it seems at first that their experience is far removed from that of the Corinthians, let alone us. But Paul makes the connections: Israel committed idolatry (verse 7) – something we easily do by elevating things above God; there was sexual immorality (verse 8) – there was plenty of that in the Corinthian church and more than we care to admit in today’s church (we just sweep it under the carpet); they put Christ to the test (verse 9), and they complained (verse 10) – something that, believe me, is an epidemic in some churches.
And Paul is practical in helping his readers to resist temptation. He knows it’s not enough just to say ‘Don’t’ to people: he has to advise them ‘how’ and ‘why’, and that’s what I’d like us to explore today. The ‘how’ is quite explicit, ‘the ‘why’ is less obvious. But come with me and let us see how Paul helps us to resist temptation.
1. How
The ‘how’ comes right at the end of the passage in verses 12 and 13:
So if you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall. No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.
In these two verses I find three strategies for resisting temptation.
(a) Paul calls us to humility: ‘So if you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall’ (verse 12). Why does he call us to humility? I think it’s for this reason: we are used to the idea that temptation can assail our weaknesses. As one who has recently discovered that his cholesterol is higher than it should be I can talk about my own weakness for sweet things. Let no-one say that chocolate is just for women! It is straightforward to say that I must guard against my weaknesses. Much as I like chocolate, I am learning that at least for the foreseeable future I have to say ‘no’ to it. (Well, except for special occasions.)
Similarly, I know a friend who cannot drink alcohol moderately. He knows that one drink will lead to another and another. His strategy in facing temptation in the area of his weakness is total abstinence.
So it is easy to identify temptation in the areas of our weaknesses. But Paul’s concern is that we can be tempted in the area of our strengths. ‘So if you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall.’ We can fall from areas in which we expect to stand. The obvious way is that pride can infect our strengths. Our pride in our abilities can lead us to attributing our talents and successes entirely to ourselves and forgetting they are a gift from God.
But our strengths can also be misused, misdirected and perverted. If I am good with words I can use them to put down someone who is less eloquent. If I am a scientist I can use my gifts for destruction rather than the benefit of humankind.
So Paul calls us to guard ourselves as much in our strengths as in our weaknesses. The best way to do that is to maintain a posture of humility before God. It is to remember who the true Giver is. It is to acknowledge regularly (daily would be good) our dependence upon our Creator and Redeemer. It is to remember that we are sinners needing the mercy of God. This is not the grovelling humility of a Uriah Heep, but a grateful humility that rejoices in the abundant grace of God in Christ.
(b) Paul reminds us that we are normal: ‘No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone’ (verse 13a). A particular strategy of the tempter is to make us feel isolated. Paul says, remember that you are not alone. What is happening to you is nothing new. It has been faced by countless others in the past, and is faced by your brothers and sisters today as well. You may not want to talk about it for fear of shame, particularly if it something often associated with shame – let’s say it’s something sexual – but no, you’re normal, you’re a regular human being. And if that is the case then there will be others who have conquered it.
I once had an elderly man speak to me of his shame that he watched TV programmes in which there would be sex scenes. He had struggled to admit his battle to anyone. There was a sense of relief when I told him that most Christian men faced that one! But the culture of the church had been such that it was difficult for him to voice his struggle and find support.
So you can take heart. Do not believe the lie that says what you are facing is unique. It isn’t. You will have brothers and sisters in Christ who have had to cope with what is before you. You are not alone. You are part of the fellowship.
And that leads to something else. If only we can cultivate a deep honesty in our Christian fellowship then the voices of those who have overcome what is tempting you will be able to speak up and say, ‘Here is how I got over this problem.’ Our problem, sadly, is that we don’t feel comfortable with building relationships of such depth, openness and vulnerability that it is possible to do this. It is why our small groups are often so important. There, rather than in Sunday services, we can have a beautiful mutual accountability where we can strengthen each other.
(c) Paul tells us to keep our eyes open: ‘God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it’ (verse 13b).
So there is good news to be found in the midst of temptation and it is this: God is active. He plans an escape route for us. When temptation confronts us like an unwelcome intruder God does not leave us to confront the invader alone: he comes to our aid and has a way to overcome the burglar of our souls. All it requires of us is to be alert for what he is doing. Sometimes we forget he is present and make the mistake of asking him to be present as if he has previously been absent. But the Franciscan writer Richard Rohr puts it this way:
We cannot attain the presence of God. We’re already totally in the presence of God. What’s absent is awareness.[1]
So we pray in temptation, ‘Lord make us aware of your presence. Make us aware of the escape route you have for us.’ And he will.
I believe there is only one exception, and that is when we lead ourselves into temptation. The rock band Crowded House put it this way in a song of theirs entitled ‘Into Temptation’:
We can go sailing in
Climb down
Lose yourself when you linger long
Into temptation
Right where you belong
(Neil Finn; EMI Music Publishing Ltd., 1988)
But for foiling temptation in the first place we have these three strategies: humility, so that our strengths are no more exploited than our weaknesses; fellowship, so that we can be encouraged by our brothers and sisters in Christ who face the same problems; and awareness of God’s presence, so we can see the way out he provides.
2. Why
Secondly and more briefly, why does Paul offer a strategy to resist temptation? Twice in the passage he says these past events were recorded as ‘warnings’ for us (verses 6 and 11). But why do we need to be warned? It sounds like an obvious question but sometimes we give a superficial and misleading answer.
We sometimes answer that God warns us against sin because he is holy and we are sinners. Yes, but that’s inadequate. If we focus only on sins then in the words of Dallas Willard we only have ‘the gospel of sin management’[2]. The Christian psychologist David Benner puts his finger on the problem when he says this:
Some Christians base their identity on being a sinner. I think they have it wrong – or only half right. You are not simply a sinner; you are a deeply loved sinner. And there is all the difference in the world between the two.[3]
God warns us to avoid temptation not because we are sinners but because we are deeply loved sinners. It is not simply that he is angry with us; it is that he is passionate about us and longs that we do not cherish the actions, omissions and attitudes that separate us from him. He is present with us and is utterly committed to us being present with him.
The ‘why’ of resisting temptation, the ‘warnings’ of Scripture against sinning, then, are those of a Father who loves his children so deeply that he cannot countenance the thought of them undergoing spiritual injury let alone eternal harm. This is the God who sent patriarchs and prophets and ultimately sent his own Son. This is the God who now gives us his word and Spirit and the fellowship of Christ’s Body on earth. The call to resist temptation is the call of divine love.
So when you next feel God is asking you to say ‘no’ when you would rather say ‘yes’, remember who this God is who urges us away from sin and provides the means to do so. He is not a stern head teacher. He is not a power-mad sergeant-major. Nor is he an angry policeman. He is the God of love, the Father who cherishes his adopted children. Just as Debbie and I have to warn our two-and-a-half-year-old son away from the cooker, so our heavenly Father warns us to steer clear of those things which will harm us. And just as we also have to warn our nearly-four-year-old daughter against doing the opposite of our counsel and instruction, so our heavenly Father warns us so we may do nothing that impairs or distances our relationship with him.
Yes, even in the heat of temptation, God is present to help us through. And his warning voice is the tender sound of love.
[1] Richard Rohr, Everything Belongs: The Gift Of Contemplative Prayer, New York, Crossroad, 1999, p28, cited in David Benner, The Gift Of Being Yourself, Trowbridge, Eagle, 2004, p41 n9.
[2] Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life In God, Glasgow, Fount, 1998, pp35-60, cited in Benner, op cit., p65 n3.
[3] Benner, op cit., p64.
Technorati Tags: temptation, Lent, Steve+Turner, Richard+Rohr, Crowded+House, Neil+Finn, Dallas+Willard, David+Benner
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Tomorrow’s Sermon, A Way In The Wilderness
Introduction
There’s something very tempting for preachers in the story about the temptations of Jesus: three temptations equals three points. And certainly I’ve preached that way on this story before. But returning to this familiar, yet strange reading again for the first Sunday in Lent this year I was no longer satisfied with that approach. I didn’t feel I was doing justice to the story. And although the details of the account seem so foreign to our experience, there is still much here that is similar to what we face and endure as Christians.
So I invite you to come with me through the phases of the story this year, and see whether there are places in it where you find yourself. I certainly found myself in some parts of the account. For this is a narrative not merely about a strange experience Jesus had; it narrates the Christian experience, too.
1. Wilderness
The story begins with a move to the wilderness:
Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness (verse 1).
In some Christian circles it’s quite common to hear people justify their actions by saying, ‘I feel led’. They believe the Holy Spirit has led them to certain decisions. Jesus was led by the Spirit, too – but in the wilderness. ‘Led’ is too weak a word: it means ‘thrown out’. Jesus was thrown out by the Spirit into the wilderness. There in the stark experience of the desert he prepares for his public ministry, for which he has just been anointed by the Spirit.
But going into the wilderness isn’t what we normally expect of ‘led by the Spirit’ experiences: they’re usually more exciting or dramatic than that. But sometimes the Holy Spirit leads us, too, into a kind of ‘wilderness’. It may not be the heat of Palestine, with dry river beds in summer. It may be another wilderness: a place we don’t like, a job we find unrewarding, chronic illness, family disappointment or personal tragedy. We didn’t think these were the things of the Spirit. And in one sense they aren’t: they are not the usual signs of the abundant life promised by Jesus.
But in another way they are the tools of the Spirit to accomplish good. The wilderness is the place of stripping away – no comforts or luxuries, no supports or crutches – and we are face to face with how much of God we have, and how much of us God has.
When I am in a wilderness I usually want to find the quickest road out. But whatever maps I consult I find God may block the way, at least until he knows that I am going to deal seriously with him. He wants my attention in prayer. He wants me to depend on him and not on any props. He wants me to stop playing religious games, trust him and build the relationship. He wants my ears to listen for his voice, not any competing speech.
When I am in the lush places of life it is easy to be seduced by luxuries or alluring voices. I can trust in health, gifts, technology or resources in order to do what I think I am meant to do. And these things are not wrong in themselves. But when I trust them rather than God I make them idols, I do not learn like a disciple, I do not travel like a pilgrim.
So for those of us who are in a wilderness now, is God calling us to deal with his reality, not fabrications and daydreams?
2. Fasting
If the wilderness experience is God’s call for us to get serious with him, how might we respond? Jesus did so in drastic fashion:
for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days (verse 2).
Fasting. Giving attention to his Father matters so much to Jesus that he forgoes food in order to pray. For Jesus, prayer isn’t good, nice, desirable or attractive: it’s so much more than that. It’s essential. James Montgomery in his hymn ‘Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire’ wrote,
Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath,
The Christian’s native air
(James Montgomery, 1771-1854, Hymns & Psalms 557)
and I believe Jesus would have identified with that. He would have seen his commitment to prayer as his ‘vital breath’ and ‘native air’. And just as nothing should block the body’s inhalation or exhalation so for Jesus prayerlessness would be suffocation. Nothing should block prayer, not even food.
Fasting, therefore, shows Jesus choosing his priorities. Programmes, human demands and expectations, current fashions – all these pall in comparison to communion with the Father for Jesus. It isn’t that he is someone who spends his time retreating from the world, its pain and pressures. No – prayer is his fuel, because he gains direction from the Father and empowering from the Spirit through it. Therefore it comes at the head of all his activity. And he is prepared to make tough decisions to give it that priority, even going without food for a season.
There are many battles we face in living out a consistent prayer life. One of them is the problem of time. I would not suggest we all have to be like the ancient greats who rose at four in the morning to pray like Luther and Wesley – we have to remember they lived in societies without electric light and so went to bed earlier than we do. But I have always been challenged by the title of a book by the American pastor Bill Hybels entitled ‘Too Busy Not To Pray’. Ultimately something has to go to make room for prayer – and it may be something important, because prayer is even more important.
The late Dr Donald English used to tell his ministerial students that ministry was not about priorities, it was about choosing between priorities, and I think that is not just true for ministers: it is true for all of us in the Christian life. I have a rough guideline for ministry that I took from a book by Eugene Peterson called ‘Working The Angles’ in which he said the pastor had three priorities: prayer, Scripture and spiritual direction. I don’t keep to those priorities as I should, but when I read about Jesus spending a protracted time fasting in order to pray then I am deeply challenged to reorder my priorities. I wonder whether this Lent might be a season when we don’t just make some temporary changes but some permanent alterations to our priorities so that we respond to God’s call for us to get serious with him. Is this the time to make those hard decisions we’ve been postponing?
3. Temptation
Neither Luke nor Matthew tells us how the Devil comes to tempt Jesus, only that he does. Temptation can come in many guises, from aggressive assault to quiet seduction. For many years I have been attracted to the interpretation of the temptations by the (admittedly Marxist) film director Pier Paolo Pasolini in his movie The Gospel According To St Matthew. A shadowy figure approaches Jesus from the distance, out of the heat haze. He turns out to be a suited businessman. He suggests to Jesus they can cut a deal. Sin is often cutting a deal that we shouldn’t.
But even if Jesus experienced temptation in a different context from us – twice prefaced with the words, ‘If you are the Son of God’ – the content of the temptation is remarkably similar to that which we face.
‘Command this stone to become a loaf of bread’ says the Devil to a hungry Jesus (verse 3), but back comes the reply, ‘It is written, “One does not live by bread alone.” ’ (verse 4). So often the temptation for Christians is only to provide bread and forget that we know that life is more than bread. Much as it is essential to meet social and material needs the church is tempted to reduce her calling to that of a social service agency and forget that life depends on the word of God. We’d like to believe in a ‘bread alone’ option, because it relieves us of the responsibility to get into the controversial spiritual stuff that might lose us face, friends or reputation. But this is an area where we cannot cut a deal.
The offer of the kingdoms of the world, provided Jesus again cuts a deal by worshipping the Devil (verses 5-6) may seem remote from us, but it isn’t. ‘All this can be yours’ sounds dangerously like the claims of a consumer society. But it comes at the same price: false, demonic worship. It is a bowing down to idols, and we live in a culture where consumerism isn’t invited, it’s demanded, because our economy depends on it. ‘All this can be yours’ comes with a threat in our world, one described bluntly by U2:
All of this, all of this can be yours
Just give me what I want and no-one gets hurt.
(‘Vertigo’, lyrics: Bono and The Edge)
True worship leads to a different kind of devotion from consumerism.
Throwing himself down from the temple and demanding that God send his angels to rescue him (verses 9-11)?
According to the Devil’s theory there should be no martyrs. But the divine purpose for Jesus, as for certain others, is that they should be preserved through death, not from death.
(John Nolland, Luke 1-9:20, p181)
This is the temptation to turn faith into the easy life. It is the avoidance of the Cross. Had Jesus succumbed, there would have been no salvation. And for us it is the temptation to short cut the painful road of faithfulness in favour of a quick fix that ultimately fixes nothing, except that we turn from disciples to traitors.
So while the temptations had particular application for Jesus they are also familiar to us. The good news for us is that Jesus resisted. He could have given in. But he resisted, not merely as the Second Person of the Trinity, but as a man acting in the power of the Spirit. As John Calvin put it, Jesus took on sinful human flesh and turned it back to obedience to the Father. Therefore Jesus’ approach to resisting temptation is relevant to us. But what is it? That takes us to the final element of the story:
4. Resistance
There is one common thread in Jesus’ resistance to temptation: ‘It is written’ (verse 4), ‘It is written’ (verse 8), ‘It is said’ (verse 12). Every act of resistance from Jesus is a quotation from Scripture. Jesus knows his Bible. And again, let us not simply say he knew it because he was the Second Person of the Godhead. It is also because as a Jewish boy he went to synagogue school. He devoted himself to reading, studying and learning Scripture.
Not only that, but all the quotations come from the same Old Testament book: Deuteronomy. They come from the context of Israel’s forty years in the wilderness. Jesus not only knows Scripture, he knows what part will be relevant to what he is facing.
My sermons here keep returning to the theme of regular Bible study, both personal and corporate. Here is the best reason of all: the example of Jesus. He studies Scripture and applies it in his life. Here is why I urge on people the discipline of daily Bible reading. Here is why I think it is a ministry priority for me to be involved in the Tuesday morning Bible study group. Meditating on the Bible and spurring one another on in our living it out is a Christ-like thing to do. It is a fundamental discipline of Christian discipleship.
So when one member of this church recently told me they had decided that their Lent discipline was going to be the reading and study of a particular biblical book they had never read before, I was delighted. Here was someone taking seriously the sort of practices that will stimulate holiness. Here was someone getting ready for future occasions when spiritual resistance will be needed. Here was a Christian feeding on God’s Word with the deliberate intention of growing spiritually.
Hence I make no apology for coming back to this theme. Just as athletes achieve nothing without disciplined training, so little of value is accomplished long term in the Christian life without a commitment to spiritual discipline. As in Genesis Joseph advised Pharaoh to store up grain during the seven years of plenty ready for the seven years of famine, so it is vital for us to store up Scripture ready for the time when it will be needed. When the crisis or the temptation hits, we need something to draw on.
So just as the stripping away of props in the wilderness might make us revisit our priorities in terms of engaging with God in prayer, so the wilderness experience of temptation is a call to be disciplined in biblical meditation before the time of trouble pounces upon us from behind. Now is the time to find a set of Bible reading notes; now is the time to join that small group.
And this Lent is not the time to say, ‘I’ll do this for six weeks,’ it’s the time to say, ‘I’ll take this as an opportunity to take my spiritual life up a gear. I’ll recover some younger enthusiasm that has been dulled by the years and by experiences of disappointment.’ Wouldn’t it be great if some of us could look back on this Lent and say, ‘That was the time things changed for me’?
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