Sabbatical, Day 25: Ash Wednesday Soup

I’m going to be nice about Iona today. Specifically about one of their confession prayers.

Yes, you read both of those sentences correctly. The confession in chapel this morning was more refreshing – and challenging – to my mind. It was modelled on the verse in Isaiah 55 where God says ‘My ways are not your ways’. It thus consisted of a series of stark contrasts between the ways of God and of humans. So we got a clearer focus on God in the confession as a result, in my opinion.

Wednesday is not a normal lecture day here. After morning chapel, students keep silence until 10 am when they meet in their pastoral groups, then at 11 they all meet together with the Principal for Community Coffee. I’m not sure what happens in the afternoons – I think it must be free for study. I decided I would observe silence with the students before taking another walk into town to buy presents for Debbie and the children.

Trinity was the first place I ever observed any extended silence, on college Quiet Days. At first it frightened me. There is something terrifyingly loud about the way one’s own thoughts invade and clamour for attention. Yet silence, with the accompanying discipline of solitude, is a sign of health and vitality in the life of the Spirit. On one of those Quiet Days, I remember deciding I would read Dietrich Bonhoeffer‘s ‘Life Together‘. Figuring it was only ninety or a hundred pages, I was sure I could get through it easily in one day. I couldn’t. Bonhoeffer packed such a punch with every sentence, the book kept stopping me like brakes on a car. What I most remember is him saying that no-one is fit for community life who cannot also embrace solitude. This morning, the silence was not a ringing in my ears but a recharging of my batteries.

Then I went off present-hunting. I found an art shop and bought some little models for the children to paint. I won’t say what I bought Debbie, because she occasionally reads this blog. I just hope she likes my purchase.

Lunch was suitably spartan for Ash Wednesday: soup and bread. But it wasn’t gruel. There was a choice between carrot and coriander soup (which I normally consume by the gallon) and a fish and cream soup. Both were accompanied by two types of bread: one was a tomato bread, the other I’m not sure, but it was good. I got through two bowlfuls of the fish and cream soup. Debbie dislikes both fish and mushrooms, and they are two things I love, so if I’m not at home to eat and I get the chance, I take advantage. This one had vague similiarities with the most wonderful soup I have ever tasted: cullen skink at Sheena’s Backpackers’ Lodge cafe in Mallaig, the fishing port at the northern end of the Road to the Isles in Scotland.

At the end of lunchtime, I had the joy of spending twenty minutes or so catching up with my old tutor John Bimson.

What to do this afternoon? Still feeling very disciplined after the morning silence, I read more of Goldsmith and Wharton’s book ‘Knowing Me, Knowing You‘, especially the chapters on personality type in the church. I concentrated on those sections specific to my own personality type of INTP. Time and again, I read paragraphs and thought the authors had met me. Yes, I am someone who likes to bring new vision to a church, because I’m more about the future than the present, more big picture than fine detail.

And – apparently, my personality type often gets frustrated with regular local church ministry and ends up in sector ministry. In particular, my type often likes to engage in research. I felt another underlining of the sense I’d had at Cliff College a fortnight ago about doing a PhD. Well, no, more than that: I felt like the research idea came up and mugged me again.

So to the weekly college communion service at 5 pm. Trinity is an evangelical college, but very much what is called an ‘open evangelical‘ college. It is not hardline Calvinist/fundamentalist. Secure in a commitment to biblical authority, it believes there is value to be found in other Christian traditions, too. Today that meant the Lord’s Supper conducted in a more Anglo-Catholic style, complete with incense, processing and the like, and of course an ashing ceremony. I don’t think a real Anglo-Catholic would have recognised it as a complete facsimile, not least because the music was mainly from evangelical and charismatic sources. But it was a genuine attempt to be sympathetic. And I find the imposition of ashes to be a powerful symbolic act. It sends a tremor through me every time. I’m glad we have it in the Methodist Worship Book, too. I haven’t washed mine off yet. The only pity was that just the first half of the words were used with the imposition of the ashes: ‘Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return’, but they forgot to say, ‘Turn from your sin and follow Christ.’

On to dinner and another great conversation with the other former lecturer of mine who is still on the staff here, John Nolland, along with his wife Lisa. John has ‘a brain the size of a planet’ and authored the three volumes on Luke’s Gospel in the Word Biblical Commentary. More recently, he has written a highly acclaimed commentary on Matthew for the New International Greek Text Commentary on the New Testament. We learned from some top-class scholars here, and so do the current students, with staff such as Gordon and David Wenham here, to name but two of many.

During the Peace in the communion service, the Principal, George Kovoor, shared the Peace with me and then continued the conversation. He invited me to book an appointment with him to chat over coffee for half an hour. The only problem is, I shall only be able to offer tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll be pleasantly surprised if he has space in his diary for then at such short notice. I’ll let you know tomorrow whether it comes off. I hope it will. He is a genial man, and if you click the link I gave to him above you’ll be exhausted just reading about him. I spoke to him on Monday, explained who I was and he told me he was a Methodist minister, too. It’s true. He is Indian, and was ordained in the Church of North India, which is a united denomination. Yesterday, he gave a notice to the community, saying that he was going to play a student at table tennis. He wouldn’t ask for prayer, because last time he played someone and asked for prayer he won, and he didn’t want an unfair advantage this time. Turns out he won anyway.

See you tomorrow.

Bill Frindall

Two days, two sad deaths. Yesterday, John Martyn. Today, Bill Frindall. The man who combined two of my favourite things in life: cricket and Maths.The only sport I was ever any good at, plus my best subject at school. Today, Frindall has succumbed to Legionnaire’s Disease at the age of sixty-nine.

Cricket is a statistician’s dream, and Bearders elevated it to new heights. Test Match commentaries on the radio punctuated every few minutes by an announcement that this was a record sixth wicket partnership for India against England at Trent Bridge, superseding the previous record, which was held by X and Y in the year whenever.

He was part of a remarkable commentary team that has been slipping away from my youth. First, Jim Laker, then John Arlott, Brian Johnston and now the Bearded Wonder. Stay with us, Richie Benaud.

Frindall’s death made me particularly remember a church member in my last circuit. I always knew she was a mad-keen cricket scorer. Occasionally she let slip about trips around the world following the World Cup and having conversations with the likes of Benaud and others. But then in 2003, Cathy Rawson made history: she was the first woman to score a top international cricket match in this country. A bit different from her day job as a practice nurse. I wonder how Cathy feels about Bearders. He was the man who made scoring exciting, not tedious.

Golf

Golf is one of those sports I find thoroughly boring. (Unlike cricket, which is subtle, tactical, and brain-engaging. Really.)

But crazy golf is different, and little Mark discovered a love for it on our summer holiday. So today – while his sister got taken to Colchester Zoo by friends – we took him to a nine-hole crazy golf course in Chelmsford. Somebody on another website had labelled it ‘the world’s least crazy crazy golf course’, but were we deterred? No!

It was less fun to arrive and find the entrance to the free car park blocked by a tractor and some traffic cones. That meant parking across the other side of Waterhouse Lane in Meteor Way, a cost of three pounds. Thankfully, when Debbie told the guy at the course our story he knocked that off our charges.

Then we set off to find the course. As soon as we found it, we had to agree with the other website: it is the world’s least crazy crazy golf course. I managed a couple of rough pictures on my phone. Here’s one: 

It shows Mark in action, and what you see corresponds with the photo on the other site. It’s the – er, exciting hole. For a little lad like him, the lack of windmills, houses and other obstructions didn’t matter. He was a picture of happiness as he took his child-sized putter and tapped his ball from start to finish of each hole. Well, almost to the finish. After about half a dozen ‘shots’, he generally picked up the ball and threw it in the hole. We let him play on his own – he is an introvert like his Dad – and it wasn’t long before he was lapping his parents as if he were not Padraig Harrington but Lewis Hamilton.

So is a little four-year-old boy easily pleased? Maybe. But isn’t it also a lesson in simplicity? Like some drug addiction, we adults want more, bigger, better, faster. Yet a small boy can take a simple pleasure and find great joy. I think it’s something for us to chew on, when we talk about simple lifestyle.

Sunday’s Sermon: Lenten Discipline

Matthew
4:1-11

Introduction
Fabio Capello made an impression when he got his England football squad
together at the beginning of the week, prior to the friendly match with
Switzerland on Wednesday. There was a new régime at work. The players weren’t
allowed their mobile phones, games consoles or iPods. Capello referred to them
by surname. They had to wear uniform. They were to sit down for meals together,
and leave together. No wonder that highly intellectual player Rio Ferdinand
astutely observed that it was like being back at school.

Capello has instilled a culture of discipline. And discipline
is central to our thinking, now that we have entered Lent. Much as I like
three-point sermons, I’m not going to look at the three temptations Jesus faced
in the wilderness. Instead, I want to look at the disciplines Jesus employed. Although
there are many spiritual disciplines, coincidentally I find three in this
story.

1. The Discipline of
the Spirit

At the risk of alienating the sport-haters even more, let me tell a story not
about football but about that even more wonderful game, cricket. It was the
only sport I was ever remotely good at playing. I was a left-arm bowler (seam
and spin – I’ve always been indecisive!), and a specialist number eleven
batsman. When I fielded, I liked to be close behind the batsman, in the slips. There
were two reasons for this: one was that in that position, you didn’t have time
to be scared if the ball came hard and fast. The other was that if I was a long
way from the bat, on the boundary, I didn’t have a strong throw to get the ball
back to the wicket-keeper. Yet there was one time when I was playing for my
primary school in a tournament when I was fielding on the boundary. I remember
hurling the ball back as best as I could to the wicket-keeper, and our teacher
called out, ‘Good throw, David F!’ I didn’t think it was a good throw, but he
did.

What does that have to do with Lent disciplines and the Holy
Spirit? Bear with me for a moment. Our story begins with these words:

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be
tempted by the devil. (Verse 1)

‘Led by the Spirit’? Many Christians talk about feeling they
are being led by the Spirit. They feel led by the Spirit to serve God in Outer
Mongolia, the inner city or leafy Surrey. They feel led by the Spirit to change
job, marry a beautiful blonde, move church, or buy a Mars bar. They feel led by
the Spirit to tell you something.

But the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness. There’s
nothing warm and fuzzy about it. He has just had an amazing experience of the
Spirit descending on him at his baptism – a spiritual ‘high’ if ever there was
one – and now he is led by the Spirit into the wilderness.

What does it have to do with throwing a cricket ball? Simply
this: ‘led by the Spirit’ is altogether too twee a translation. The Greek
means, ‘Jesus was thrown out by the Spirit.’ Ekballo is the Greek verb: ‘ek’, meaning ‘out of’, and ‘ballo’, to
throw, from which we get our word ball. The Holy Spirit hurls Jesus into the
wilderness.

There’s a lot of traditional ‘led by the Spirit’ language
that I approve of. I do believe the Holy Spirit leads people to share insights
with others that the speaker couldn’t otherwise have known would be helpful to
the hearer. I do believe the Holy Spirit does remarkable works of power that
transform lives for the better. I believe all that stuff. But I also believe
the Spirit leads us into the tough places, the wildernesses of our lives and
this world, just as Jesus was led. It is therefore a Christian discipline to
listen to the Spirit’s promptings, even if they are uncomfortable.

So is there an area of life where you felt led by the Spirit,
perhaps forcefully, but where you are unhappy or at least uneasy? It might be a
job, family situation or something to do with church. It’s easy to want to run
away sometimes, but if the Spirit has thrown us into such an environment, then
escape should not be our first option. The season may well come to an end, just
as it did for Jesus in the wilderness, but we are wise to allow the discipline
of following Spirit’s leading to teach us more of God’s ways and shape us more
like Christ.

2. The Discipline of
Self-Denial

If there’s one thing we associate Lent with, it’s giving up something for the
forty days. Last year, we invited a couple of families around one day and got
out our chocolate fountain. It was agony for some of the girls, who had decided
to renounce chocolate for Lent!

You may have seen other initiatives publicised this Lent.
There is TEAR Fund’s Carbon Fast,
which encourages us to cut our carbon use and reduce further damage to the
climate. There is the Church of England’s Love
Life Live Lent
project, with us for a second year this year. It features
booklets for children, youth and adults, suggesting a new action for each day
of Lent.

All of this comes from Jesus’ actions in the wilderness:

He fasted for forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he
was famished. (Verse 2)

It wasn’t unusual for a Jew to fast. Forty days was extreme,
though. It goes close to the limits before lack of food has an irreversibly
detrimental effect on the body. Remember that those IRA hunger strikers who
died, such as Bobby Sands, fasted for fifty or sixty days. Why does Jesus do
it?

As I explained in a couple of school assemblies this week,
Jesus shows us a Christian value of giving up something good for the sake of
something better. The ‘something better’ here is prayer. For Jesus, being in
close communion with his Father was essential throughout his life. However, here,
at the outset of his ministry, it is particularly vital. Prayer becomes more
important than food.

It also becomes a counter-cultural witness. How easy it is
to conceive of life as being about self-fulfilment. It’s an immature society where
people gratify their every desire. The other day, Rebekah has a friend come
back after school to play with her. When her father came to pick her up, he
said in all innocence, ‘They’re having fun. That’s what we’re all here for, isn’t
it?’

Psychologists tell us that the ability to defer personal
gratification is a sign of maturity. Those that can’t do this are not grown-up
people. On that basis, we have developed a whole culture of adolescence – we have
adolescents of every age!

On a purely human level, this is of course what Fabio
Capello knew in imposing a disciplined approach in his management of the
England football team. A group of people whose lifestyle affords them every
opportunity for self-indulgence run grave risks of undermining the very skills
that have earned them their outrageous wages in the first place. In the
sporting arena, Capello knew that success would require self-denial.

So it is for us, too. I’ve just started a Lent course at
Broomfield where we are studying the DVD version of John Ortberg’s book If
You Want To Walk On Water, You’ve Got To Get Out Of The Boat
. In the first
session, he makes an important point: Christians have to choose between comfort
and growth. If we opt for comfort, we shall not grow spiritually. If we are
committed to growth, we shall have to become uncomfortable in all sorts of
ways. Self-denial will be required.

Is God, then, calling us to give up something, not so that
we might be miserable, but rather because he is training us for something
better? Is God calling us to the discipline of denying ourselves in some area
so that something better might happen for his kingdom? If that is the case,
then there is real incentive for the discipline of self-denial.

3. The Discipline of
the Scriptures

When the pressure is on, Jesus responds the same way every time to the tempter.
He answers each of the three temptations in the same way: ‘It is written’
(verses 4, 7 and 10). He dismisses every temptation with Scripture.

And it’s not merely a case of Jesus shooting back a
proof-text. In the second temptation, where he is tempted to throw himself off
the Temple, it’s as if the devil has become wise to this, because he quotes the
Bible, too. I can remember a radio phone-in presenter banning his callers from
quoting the Bible, because he said people could quote it to support any
position. The devil treats Scripture like that.

But Jesus doesn’t. He can dismiss the temptation with more
Scripture, because he knows his Bible better. He knows the big story of
Scripture, the story of God, his ways and his character. In fact, every time
that Jesus fires back a verse at the devil in this story, each quotation comes
from the same part of the Bible. They all come from Deuteronomy, and the
account of Israel’s forty years in the wilderness. Clearly, Jesus sees great
significance in that for his forty days in the desert.

Ah, you say, but Jesus was the Son of God. He knew the
Scriptures because he was deity. We’re not like that. However, wait a minute –
remember his humanity. Remember that Jesus conducted his ministry as a man
acting in the power of the Spirit. Without that, he couldn’t be our example for
living. And as a human being, a Jew of two thousand years ago in Palestine, he
would have gone as a boy to synagogue school. From an early age, Jesus was
steeped in the Scriptures.

I see Jesus, then, as someone who had engaged in a
disciplined reflection on the Scriptures. He read them, meditated on them and
prayed them. It was as if they became woven around him like a garment. For years
before this event in the wilderness, Jesus has engaged in the discipline of
Scripture. It is stored up in his life.

I have taken to comparing this to the Old Testament story of
Joseph in Egypt. You will recall that when he becomes Pharaoh’s trusted
adviser, he institutes a policy where during the seven years of plenty, grain
is stored ready for the seven lean years. In a similar way, the discipline of
Scripture is one where we store up the goodness of God’s Word, ready for the
lean or wilderness times. When we hit a crisis, God may graciously direct us to
some Scripture that will help us. But I believe his best for us is that we immerse
ourselves in the biblical material now, before the crisis hits.

So how do we come to the Bible helpfully? I recently found
some helpful
and challenging words
from an American Methodist, William Willimon[1].
He says we can’t just come to Scripture, condemning it for where it doesn’t
meet our preconceived ideas. For example, how can we condemn it for being
violent when our society is extremely violent (just not always in front of our
eyes)? We spot what we think are cultural limitations in the Bible, such as
where we think it is sexist or racist, but we are blind to our own. Our big
mistake is in trying to conform the Bible to our view of the world. Here are a few
sentences from Willimon:

Scripture is an attempt to construct a new world, to stoke,
fund and fuel our imaginations. The Bible is an ongoing debate about what is
real and who is in charge and where we’re all headed. So the person who emerged
from church one Sunday (after one of my most biblical sermons, too!),
muttering, “That’s the trouble with you preachers. You just never speak to
anything that relates to my world,” makes a good point.

To which the Bible replies, “How on earth did you get the idea that I want to
speak to your world? I want to rock, remake, deconstruct and rework your
world!”

Thus when we read Scripture, we’re not simply to ask, “Does
this make sense to me?” or “How can I use this to make my life less miserable?”
but rather we are to ask in Wesleyan fashion, “How would I have to be changed
in order to make this Scripture work?” Every text is a potential invitation to
conversion, transformation, and growth in grace.

So a true discipline of Scripture shapes us. We are thus ‘in
shape’ to face the wilderness and temptation, whenever they occur. That discipline
of Scripture becomes our primary way of disciplined listening to the Spirit,
thus leading – amongst other things – to the discipline of self-denial. In all
these disciplines, we become fitter, more trained for the battle against evil,
in which victory is already assured – because of Christ’s obedience, even to
death on a cross.

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Sunday’s Sermon: Lenten Discipline

Matthew
4:1-11

Introduction
Fabio Capello made an impression when he got his England football squad
together at the beginning of the week, prior to the friendly match with
Switzerland on Wednesday. There was a new régime at work. The players weren’t
allowed their mobile phones, games consoles or iPods. Capello referred to them
by surname. They had to wear uniform. They were to sit down for meals together,
and leave together. No wonder that highly intellectual player Rio Ferdinand
astutely observed that it was like being back at school.

Capello has instilled a culture of discipline. And discipline
is central to our thinking, now that we have entered Lent. Much as I like
three-point sermons, I’m not going to look at the three temptations Jesus faced
in the wilderness. Instead, I want to look at the disciplines Jesus employed. Although
there are many spiritual disciplines, coincidentally I find three in this
story.

1. The Discipline of
the Spirit

At the risk of alienating the sport-haters even more, let me tell a story not
about football but about that even more wonderful game, cricket. It was the
only sport I was ever remotely good at playing. I was a left-arm bowler (seam
and spin – I’ve always been indecisive!), and a specialist number eleven
batsman. When I fielded, I liked to be close behind the batsman, in the slips. There
were two reasons for this: one was that in that position, you didn’t have time
to be scared if the ball came hard and fast. The other was that if I was a long
way from the bat, on the boundary, I didn’t have a strong throw to get the ball
back to the wicket-keeper. Yet there was one time when I was playing for my
primary school in a tournament when I was fielding on the boundary. I remember
hurling the ball back as best as I could to the wicket-keeper, and our teacher
called out, ‘Good throw, David F!’ I didn’t think it was a good throw, but he
did.

What does that have to do with Lent disciplines and the Holy
Spirit? Bear with me for a moment. Our story begins with these words:

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be
tempted by the devil. (Verse 1)

‘Led by the Spirit’? Many Christians talk about feeling they
are being led by the Spirit. They feel led by the Spirit to serve God in Outer
Mongolia, the inner city or leafy Surrey. They feel led by the Spirit to change
job, marry a beautiful blonde, move church, or buy a Mars bar. They feel led by
the Spirit to tell you something.

But the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness. There’s
nothing warm and fuzzy about it. He has just had an amazing experience of the
Spirit descending on him at his baptism – a spiritual ‘high’ if ever there was
one – and now he is led by the Spirit into the wilderness.

What does it have to do with throwing a cricket ball? Simply
this: ‘led by the Spirit’ is altogether too twee a translation. The Greek
means, ‘Jesus was thrown out by the Spirit.’ Ekballo is the Greek verb: ‘ek’, meaning ‘out of’, and ‘ballo’, to
throw, from which we get our word ball. The Holy Spirit hurls Jesus into the
wilderness.

There’s a lot of traditional ‘led by the Spirit’ language
that I approve of. I do believe the Holy Spirit leads people to share insights
with others that the speaker couldn’t otherwise have known would be helpful to
the hearer. I do believe the Holy Spirit does remarkable works of power that
transform lives for the better. I believe all that stuff. But I also believe
the Spirit leads us into the tough places, the wildernesses of our lives and
this world, just as Jesus was led. It is therefore a Christian discipline to
listen to the Spirit’s promptings, even if they are uncomfortable.

So is there an area of life where you felt led by the Spirit,
perhaps forcefully, but where you are unhappy or at least uneasy? It might be a
job, family situation or something to do with church. It’s easy to want to run
away sometimes, but if the Spirit has thrown us into such an environment, then
escape should not be our first option. The season may well come to an end, just
as it did for Jesus in the wilderness, but we are wise to allow the discipline
of following Spirit’s leading to teach us more of God’s ways and shape us more
like Christ.

2. The Discipline of
Self-Denial

If there’s one thing we associate Lent with, it’s giving up something for the
forty days. Last year, we invited a couple of families around one day and got
out our chocolate fountain. It was agony for some of the girls, who had decided
to renounce chocolate for Lent!

You may have seen other initiatives publicised this Lent.
There is TEAR Fund’s Carbon Fast,
which encourages us to cut our carbon use and reduce further damage to the
climate. There is the Church of England’s Love
Life Live Lent
project, with us for a second year this year. It features
booklets for children, youth and adults, suggesting a new action for each day
of Lent.

All of this comes from Jesus’ actions in the wilderness:

He fasted for forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he
was famished. (Verse 2)

It wasn’t unusual for a Jew to fast. Forty days was extreme,
though. It goes close to the limits before lack of food has an irreversibly
detrimental effect on the body. Remember that those IRA hunger strikers who
died, such as Bobby Sands, fasted for fifty or sixty days. Why does Jesus do
it?

As I explained in a couple of school assemblies this week,
Jesus shows us a Christian value of giving up something good for the sake of
something better. The ‘something better’ here is prayer. For Jesus, being in
close communion with his Father was essential throughout his life. However, here,
at the outset of his ministry, it is particularly vital. Prayer becomes more
important than food.

It also becomes a counter-cultural witness. How easy it is
to conceive of life as being about self-fulfilment. It’s an immature society where
people gratify their every desire. The other day, Rebekah has a friend come
back after school to play with her. When her father came to pick her up, he
said in all innocence, ‘They’re having fun. That’s what we’re all here for, isn’t
it?’

Psychologists tell us that the ability to defer personal
gratification is a sign of maturity. Those that can’t do this are not grown-up
people. On that basis, we have developed a whole culture of adolescence – we have
adolescents of every age!

On a purely human level, this is of course what Fabio
Capello knew in imposing a disciplined approach in his management of the
England football team. A group of people whose lifestyle affords them every
opportunity for self-indulgence run grave risks of undermining the very skills
that have earned them their outrageous wages in the first place. In the
sporting arena, Capello knew that success would require self-denial.

So it is for us, too. I’ve just started a Lent course at
Broomfield where we are studying the DVD version of John Ortberg’s book If
You Want To Walk On Water, You’ve Got To Get Out Of The Boat
. In the first
session, he makes an important point: Christians have to choose between comfort
and growth. If we opt for comfort, we shall not grow spiritually. If we are
committed to growth, we shall have to become uncomfortable in all sorts of
ways. Self-denial will be required.

Is God, then, calling us to give up something, not so that
we might be miserable, but rather because he is training us for something
better? Is God calling us to the discipline of denying ourselves in some area
so that something better might happen for his kingdom? If that is the case,
then there is real incentive for the discipline of self-denial.

3. The Discipline of
the Scriptures

When the pressure is on, Jesus responds the same way every time to the tempter.
He answers each of the three temptations in the same way: ‘It is written’
(verses 4, 7 and 10). He dismisses every temptation with Scripture.

And it’s not merely a case of Jesus shooting back a
proof-text. In the second temptation, where he is tempted to throw himself off
the Temple, it’s as if the devil has become wise to this, because he quotes the
Bible, too. I can remember a radio phone-in presenter banning his callers from
quoting the Bible, because he said people could quote it to support any
position. The devil treats Scripture like that.

But Jesus doesn’t. He can dismiss the temptation with more
Scripture, because he knows his Bible better. He knows the big story of
Scripture, the story of God, his ways and his character. In fact, every time
that Jesus fires back a verse at the devil in this story, each quotation comes
from the same part of the Bible. They all come from Deuteronomy, and the
account of Israel’s forty years in the wilderness. Clearly, Jesus sees great
significance in that for his forty days in the desert.

Ah, you say, but Jesus was the Son of God. He knew the
Scriptures because he was deity. We’re not like that. However, wait a minute –
remember his humanity. Remember that Jesus conducted his ministry as a man
acting in the power of the Spirit. Without that, he couldn’t be our example for
living. And as a human being, a Jew of two thousand years ago in Palestine, he
would have gone as a boy to synagogue school. From an early age, Jesus was
steeped in the Scriptures.

I see Jesus, then, as someone who had engaged in a
disciplined reflection on the Scriptures. He read them, meditated on them and
prayed them. It was as if they became woven around him like a garment. For years
before this event in the wilderness, Jesus has engaged in the discipline of
Scripture. It is stored up in his life.

I have taken to comparing this to the Old Testament story of
Joseph in Egypt. You will recall that when he becomes Pharaoh’s trusted
adviser, he institutes a policy where during the seven years of plenty, grain
is stored ready for the seven lean years. In a similar way, the discipline of
Scripture is one where we store up the goodness of God’s Word, ready for the
lean or wilderness times. When we hit a crisis, God may graciously direct us to
some Scripture that will help us. But I believe his best for us is that we immerse
ourselves in the biblical material now, before the crisis hits.

So how do we come to the Bible helpfully? I recently found
some helpful
and challenging words
from an American Methodist, William Willimon[1].
He says we can’t just come to Scripture, condemning it for where it doesn’t
meet our preconceived ideas. For example, how can we condemn it for being
violent when our society is extremely violent (just not always in front of our
eyes)? We spot what we think are cultural limitations in the Bible, such as
where we think it is sexist or racist, but we are blind to our own. Our big
mistake is in trying to conform the Bible to our view of the world. Here are a few
sentences from Willimon:

Scripture is an attempt to construct a new world, to stoke,
fund and fuel our imaginations. The Bible is an ongoing debate about what is
real and who is in charge and where we’re all headed. So the person who emerged
from church one Sunday (after one of my most biblical sermons, too!),
muttering, “That’s the trouble with you preachers. You just never speak to
anything that relates to my world,” makes a good point.

To which the Bible replies, “How on earth did you get the idea that I want to
speak to your world? I want to rock, remake, deconstruct and rework your
world!”

Thus when we read Scripture, we’re not simply to ask, “Does
this make sense to me?” or “How can I use this to make my life less miserable?”
but rather we are to ask in Wesleyan fashion, “How would I have to be changed
in order to make this Scripture work?” Every text is a potential invitation to
conversion, transformation, and growth in grace.

So a true discipline of Scripture shapes us. We are thus ‘in
shape’ to face the wilderness and temptation, whenever they occur. That discipline
of Scripture becomes our primary way of disciplined listening to the Spirit,
thus leading – amongst other things – to the discipline of self-denial. In all
these disciplines, we become fitter, more trained for the battle against evil,
in which victory is already assured – because of Christ’s obedience, even to
death on a cross.

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Sunday’s Sermon: Lenten Discipline

Matthew
4:1-11

Introduction
Fabio Capello made an impression when he got his England football squad
together at the beginning of the week, prior to the friendly match with
Switzerland on Wednesday. There was a new régime at work. The players weren’t
allowed their mobile phones, games consoles or iPods. Capello referred to them
by surname. They had to wear uniform. They were to sit down for meals together,
and leave together. No wonder that highly intellectual player Rio Ferdinand
astutely observed that it was like being back at school.

Capello has instilled a culture of discipline. And discipline
is central to our thinking, now that we have entered Lent. Much as I like
three-point sermons, I’m not going to look at the three temptations Jesus faced
in the wilderness. Instead, I want to look at the disciplines Jesus employed. Although
there are many spiritual disciplines, coincidentally I find three in this
story.

1. The Discipline of
the Spirit

At the risk of alienating the sport-haters even more, let me tell a story not
about football but about that even more wonderful game, cricket. It was the
only sport I was ever remotely good at playing. I was a left-arm bowler (seam
and spin – I’ve always been indecisive!), and a specialist number eleven
batsman. When I fielded, I liked to be close behind the batsman, in the slips. There
were two reasons for this: one was that in that position, you didn’t have time
to be scared if the ball came hard and fast. The other was that if I was a long
way from the bat, on the boundary, I didn’t have a strong throw to get the ball
back to the wicket-keeper. Yet there was one time when I was playing for my
primary school in a tournament when I was fielding on the boundary. I remember
hurling the ball back as best as I could to the wicket-keeper, and our teacher
called out, ‘Good throw, David F!’ I didn’t think it was a good throw, but he
did.

What does that have to do with Lent disciplines and the Holy
Spirit? Bear with me for a moment. Our story begins with these words:

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be
tempted by the devil. (Verse 1)

‘Led by the Spirit’? Many Christians talk about feeling they
are being led by the Spirit. They feel led by the Spirit to serve God in Outer
Mongolia, the inner city or leafy Surrey. They feel led by the Spirit to change
job, marry a beautiful blonde, move church, or buy a Mars bar. They feel led by
the Spirit to tell you something.

But the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness. There’s
nothing warm and fuzzy about it. He has just had an amazing experience of the
Spirit descending on him at his baptism – a spiritual ‘high’ if ever there was
one – and now he is led by the Spirit into the wilderness.

What does it have to do with throwing a cricket ball? Simply
this: ‘led by the Spirit’ is altogether too twee a translation. The Greek
means, ‘Jesus was thrown out by the Spirit.’ Ekballo is the Greek verb: ‘ek’, meaning ‘out of’, and ‘ballo’, to
throw, from which we get our word ball. The Holy Spirit hurls Jesus into the
wilderness.

There’s a lot of traditional ‘led by the Spirit’ language
that I approve of. I do believe the Holy Spirit leads people to share insights
with others that the speaker couldn’t otherwise have known would be helpful to
the hearer. I do believe the Holy Spirit does remarkable works of power that
transform lives for the better. I believe all that stuff. But I also believe
the Spirit leads us into the tough places, the wildernesses of our lives and
this world, just as Jesus was led. It is therefore a Christian discipline to
listen to the Spirit’s promptings, even if they are uncomfortable.

So is there an area of life where you felt led by the Spirit,
perhaps forcefully, but where you are unhappy or at least uneasy? It might be a
job, family situation or something to do with church. It’s easy to want to run
away sometimes, but if the Spirit has thrown us into such an environment, then
escape should not be our first option. The season may well come to an end, just
as it did for Jesus in the wilderness, but we are wise to allow the discipline
of following Spirit’s leading to teach us more of God’s ways and shape us more
like Christ.

2. The Discipline of
Self-Denial

If there’s one thing we associate Lent with, it’s giving up something for the
forty days. Last year, we invited a couple of families around one day and got
out our chocolate fountain. It was agony for some of the girls, who had decided
to renounce chocolate for Lent!

You may have seen other initiatives publicised this Lent.
There is TEAR Fund’s Carbon Fast,
which encourages us to cut our carbon use and reduce further damage to the
climate. There is the Church of England’s Love
Life Live Lent
project, with us for a second year this year. It features
booklets for children, youth and adults, suggesting a new action for each day
of Lent.

All of this comes from Jesus’ actions in the wilderness:

He fasted for forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he
was famished. (Verse 2)

It wasn’t unusual for a Jew to fast. Forty days was extreme,
though. It goes close to the limits before lack of food has an irreversibly
detrimental effect on the body. Remember that those IRA hunger strikers who
died, such as Bobby Sands, fasted for fifty or sixty days. Why does Jesus do
it?

As I explained in a couple of school assemblies this week,
Jesus shows us a Christian value of giving up something good for the sake of
something better. The ‘something better’ here is prayer. For Jesus, being in
close communion with his Father was essential throughout his life. However, here,
at the outset of his ministry, it is particularly vital. Prayer becomes more
important than food.

It also becomes a counter-cultural witness. How easy it is
to conceive of life as being about self-fulfilment. It’s an immature society where
people gratify their every desire. The other day, Rebekah has a friend come
back after school to play with her. When her father came to pick her up, he
said in all innocence, ‘They’re having fun. That’s what we’re all here for, isn’t
it?’

Psychologists tell us that the ability to defer personal
gratification is a sign of maturity. Those that can’t do this are not grown-up
people. On that basis, we have developed a whole culture of adolescence – we have
adolescents of every age!

On a purely human level, this is of course what Fabio
Capello knew in imposing a disciplined approach in his management of the
England football team. A group of people whose lifestyle affords them every
opportunity for self-indulgence run grave risks of undermining the very skills
that have earned them their outrageous wages in the first place. In the
sporting arena, Capello knew that success would require self-denial.

So it is for us, too. I’ve just started a Lent course at
Broomfield where we are studying the DVD version of John Ortberg’s book If
You Want To Walk On Water, You’ve Got To Get Out Of The Boat
. In the first
session, he makes an important point: Christians have to choose between comfort
and growth. If we opt for comfort, we shall not grow spiritually. If we are
committed to growth, we shall have to become uncomfortable in all sorts of
ways. Self-denial will be required.

Is God, then, calling us to give up something, not so that
we might be miserable, but rather because he is training us for something
better? Is God calling us to the discipline of denying ourselves in some area
so that something better might happen for his kingdom? If that is the case,
then there is real incentive for the discipline of self-denial.

3. The Discipline of
the Scriptures

When the pressure is on, Jesus responds the same way every time to the tempter.
He answers each of the three temptations in the same way: ‘It is written’
(verses 4, 7 and 10). He dismisses every temptation with Scripture.

And it’s not merely a case of Jesus shooting back a
proof-text. In the second temptation, where he is tempted to throw himself off
the Temple, it’s as if the devil has become wise to this, because he quotes the
Bible, too. I can remember a radio phone-in presenter banning his callers from
quoting the Bible, because he said people could quote it to support any
position. The devil treats Scripture like that.

But Jesus doesn’t. He can dismiss the temptation with more
Scripture, because he knows his Bible better. He knows the big story of
Scripture, the story of God, his ways and his character. In fact, every time
that Jesus fires back a verse at the devil in this story, each quotation comes
from the same part of the Bible. They all come from Deuteronomy, and the
account of Israel’s forty years in the wilderness. Clearly, Jesus sees great
significance in that for his forty days in the desert.

Ah, you say, but Jesus was the Son of God. He knew the
Scriptures because he was deity. We’re not like that. However, wait a minute –
remember his humanity. Remember that Jesus conducted his ministry as a man
acting in the power of the Spirit. Without that, he couldn’t be our example for
living. And as a human being, a Jew of two thousand years ago in Palestine, he
would have gone as a boy to synagogue school. From an early age, Jesus was
steeped in the Scriptures.

I see Jesus, then, as someone who had engaged in a
disciplined reflection on the Scriptures. He read them, meditated on them and
prayed them. It was as if they became woven around him like a garment. For years
before this event in the wilderness, Jesus has engaged in the discipline of
Scripture. It is stored up in his life.

I have taken to comparing this to the Old Testament story of
Joseph in Egypt. You will recall that when he becomes Pharaoh’s trusted
adviser, he institutes a policy where during the seven years of plenty, grain
is stored ready for the seven lean years. In a similar way, the discipline of
Scripture is one where we store up the goodness of God’s Word, ready for the
lean or wilderness times. When we hit a crisis, God may graciously direct us to
some Scripture that will help us. But I believe his best for us is that we immerse
ourselves in the biblical material now, before the crisis hits.

So how do we come to the Bible helpfully? I recently found
some helpful
and challenging words
from an American Methodist, William Willimon[1].
He says we can’t just come to Scripture, condemning it for where it doesn’t
meet our preconceived ideas. For example, how can we condemn it for being
violent when our society is extremely violent (just not always in front of our
eyes)? We spot what we think are cultural limitations in the Bible, such as
where we think it is sexist or racist, but we are blind to our own. Our big
mistake is in trying to conform the Bible to our view of the world. Here are a few
sentences from Willimon:

Scripture is an attempt to construct a new world, to stoke,
fund and fuel our imaginations. The Bible is an ongoing debate about what is
real and who is in charge and where we’re all headed. So the person who emerged
from church one Sunday (after one of my most biblical sermons, too!),
muttering, “That’s the trouble with you preachers. You just never speak to
anything that relates to my world,” makes a good point.

To which the Bible replies, “How on earth did you get the idea that I want to
speak to your world? I want to rock, remake, deconstruct and rework your
world!”

Thus when we read Scripture, we’re not simply to ask, “Does
this make sense to me?” or “How can I use this to make my life less miserable?”
but rather we are to ask in Wesleyan fashion, “How would I have to be changed
in order to make this Scripture work?” Every text is a potential invitation to
conversion, transformation, and growth in grace.

So a true discipline of Scripture shapes us. We are thus ‘in
shape’ to face the wilderness and temptation, whenever they occur. That discipline
of Scripture becomes our primary way of disciplined listening to the Spirit,
thus leading – amongst other things – to the discipline of self-denial. In all
these disciplines, we become fitter, more trained for the battle against evil,
in which victory is already assured – because of Christ’s obedience, even to
death on a cross.

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Tomorrow’s Sermon: Setting Our Faces Towards Jerusalem

Luke 9:51-62

Introduction
Being a Tottenham Hotspur
supporter, I looked on with considerable unchristian glee this last week when
our deadly rivals Arsenal had to sell
their star player Thierry Henry to Barcelona. I was less impressed on Friday,
when my team signed
Darren Bent for a whopping £16.5 million transfer fee. He has only played three
times for England!

Now this may bore those of you who detest football, and you
may scoff at the ridiculous sums football clubs pay to acquire the services of
modest players. I talked about this on Friday night with the Boys’ Brigade, and
asked them what transfer fee each of them was worth. One boy said he was worth
a tenner, several mentioned sums in the millions, and one lad even presumed to
mention a figure that went into the billions.

I told them all, however, that they had all under-estimated
their value. God wanted them playing on his team and he was prepared to pay a
massive transfer fee so they might play for him and not the opposition. That
price was the giving up of his only begotten Son.[1]

In our reading, Jesus is on his way to pay that price:

When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his
face to go to Jerusalem (verse 51).

Jesus knows he is going to be betrayed, suffer, be
crucified, but then be raised from the dead and ascend to the Father’s right
hand. He ‘sets his face’ towards this destiny. Similarly, when he encounters
the three would-be disciples in the second half of the reading, the setting is
‘As they were going along the road’ (verse 57). Not just any road, we are to
understand: it is the road to Jerusalem, the road to suffering and glory.

Therefore, this reading is about those who would walk that
road with Jesus. What does it mean to walk the road of suffering and then glory
with Jesus? Bluntly, what does discipleship entail?

1. Rejection
A Samaritan village doesn’t welcome Jesus’ advance party. It isn’t surprising,
really:

Jewish pilgrims regularly passed through Samaria on their way
to the Jerusalem feasts. Sometimes there was trouble that even led to massacre.
The hostility between Jews and Samaritans at that time is well known.[2]

James and John make the pastorally sensitive suggestion that
Jesus allows them to call down fire from heaven and sizzle the villagers like
sausages (verse 54). No wonder elsewhere Jesus nicknamed them the ‘sons of
thunder’. I remember one preacher saying they must have been the Hell’s Angels
of the apostles.

However, Jesus doesn’t go in for a Hell’s Angels response. He
rebukes them (verse 55) and they move on (verse 56), just as in the next
chapter of Luke’s Gospel he will tell those who don’t get a hearing for the
Gospel to move on.

The point is this: one who is on his way to suffer violence
in order to bring redemption cannot inflict violence on others to further his
purposes.

How we handle rejection is a key issue. For not everyone
will welcome the Christian message, our values or our lifestyle. The disciples
of Jesus are not to repay in kind what has unjustly been dealt to them. We are
not to engage in the spite, vilification and character assassination tactics
that are so common in our world. We are to respond non-violently, with
forgiveness. If even living differently has no positive effect, then we don’t
waste our time, we move on.

There is a time, then, to stop a certain activity, because
it is fruitless. There is a time to stop wasting energy with some people. I
remember being away on a residential training course for my job and sharing
accommodation with an atheist. We debated the existence of God, but eventually
it was apparent that he wasn’t interested in the possibility that he might be
wrong, he was only interested in winding me up and having a bit of intellectual
fun. That was the point at which I stopped wasting my time in the face of
sophisticated rejection. I did not become bitter towards him, but I left him to
the mercy of God.

The disciples of Jesus come across opponents and obstacles
on their road to Jerusalem. But Jesus teaches us that we do not have to face
down every single one of them. Sometimes we simply need to skirt around them,
with a measure of Christian grace.

2. Misfits
If you were preaching the good news of Jesus and someone responded by saying
that they would follow Jesus wherever he went (verse 57), you’d think that was
a wonderful response, wouldn’t you? Yet when someone comes up to Jesus and says
precisely that, he doesn’t immediately invite him to tag along. His response
is:

‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the
Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.’ (verse 58)

Jesus isn’t saying, I’m homeless, you’ll always be on the
road with me, so get your sleeping bag ready. In any case, there was a stage in
Jesus’ life where he had the use of a house in Capernaum. He is saying, even
animals get a welcome in this world, but I don’t always. If you want to join me
on the road of discipleship, then be aware from the outset that we are a band
of social misfits. Not that we are lacking in social graces, but we don’t
always receive a welcome. Our lifestyle, convictions and words make people
uncomfortable. We won’t be at the heart of society; we’ll be on the fringes.

This speaks to the regular temptation to make the Christian
message acceptable, respectable and comfortable. It challenges the idea that
the way to make more disciples of Jesus is to lower the bar and make access
easier. Maybe we are tempted to make things sound easier, because we are
concerned by falling church numbers, or by the declining influence of the
church in our society. Yet Jesus warns us that if we do lower the bar then what
we shall end up with will not be disciples. He raises the bar.

What does this mean for us? It’s not a licence to be
obnoxious and offensive, but it is a call to radical faithfulness to our Lord.
In the words of Michael Frost,
we shall live like exiles
in today’s world: exiles from comfortable religion, and exiles from a worldwide
empire that worships a globalisation that feeds off consumerism, environmental
destruction and persecution. Refusing to worship the almighty dollar, we shall
be pushed to the margins. But that is where we shall live faithful lives of
witness to Christ.

3. Duty
‘Who is a funeral for?’ asked our worship tutor during my first degree.
Catholics, he went on to explain, see the funeral as being for the deceased,
whereas Protestants see it as being to comfort the bereaved.

None of which counted for anything when, in my first
appointment, I encountered Lily and George. Blunt Yorkshire people, George was
never a well man. And when he died, Lily said there was to be no funeral. In
her estimation, it was a waste of time and money. It wouldn’t bring her beloved
George back, and she had to get on with life without him. I didn’t know how to
respond. Nor did people in the church.

I think of Lily when I hear Jesus telling the man who wanted
to bury his father first that the dead should bury their own dead, and that the
man’s duty was to proclaim the kingdom of God (verses 59-60). I am not
suggesting that we abolish funerals, and I do not plan to stop accepting
requests to conduct them. I have found them important staging posts in people’s
grief, and I regularly conducted funerals for non-Christians in the last
circuit, because it was an opportunity to show Christian compassion. I knew an
Anglican vicar who refused to take such funerals, quoting Jesus’ words here,
Let the dead bury their own dead.’ I think he was terribly wrong.

However, Jesus’ shocking words force us to one unpopular
conclusion: our duty to proclaim the kingdom of God transcends all social
conventions, however important they are. The other example in Scripture is God
forbidding the prophet Ezekiel from mourning the death of his wife (Ezekiel 24:15-24). In some
social circumstances, it is not ‘done’ to talk about faith – when Alistair
Campbell was Tony Blair’s spin-doctor and told Vanity Fair magazine ‘We don’t
do God’, he was tapping into something that is widely accepted in British
society. Just as the Victorians didn’t talk about sex, so we don’t talk about
death or religion.

And indeed, I once knew a Methodist minister who proudly
told a group of teenagers that he had joined a society where the one rule was
that you didn’t talk about faith. Yet there cannot be any no-go areas for
Christians in proclaiming the kingdom of God. This is not a call to be insensitive,
it is not an appeal for Bible-bashing, but it is to say that the followers of
Jesus cannot allow society to dictate whether or when we speak about God. If
people need to hear, we shall speak. If it makes us unpopular, so be it.
Popularity is not what we court, however much we feel the natural human desire
to be liked. What counts for us is that one day we shall hear a voice saying
not, ‘Many people liked you,’ but, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’

4. Urgency
You may remember in 1983 that the Daily
Mail
ran a story about the Moonies, entitled ‘The
Church That Breaks Up Families
’. It led to the longest libel case in
British legal history, and the Mail won. The idea that a religion or a sect
could break up families was proved, and roundly condemned.

So how do we hear Jesus denying another prospective disciple
the right to say farewell to his family (verses 61-62)? Probably some atheists
would use this as evidence that Jesus is really a cultist. And in an age when
the CEO of Sony in the USA, Howard Stringer, a married man with two children,
can say at a company meeting without blushing, ‘I don’t see my family much. My
family is you’, surely we’d like Jesus to say something different? Likewise,
when the chief executive of General Electric, Jeff Immelt, can tell a
journalist he is married with an eighteen-year-old daughter, and he’s worked
hundred-hour weeks at the company for the last twenty years, wouldn’t we like
Jesus to affirm the value of family? (See Bill Kinnon.) And
wouldn’t I like help about balancing family life and ministry? But no. ‘No one
who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.’
(verse 62)

I conclude that Jesus is not telling us to neglect our
families; he’s telling us that people who keep looking backwards to what once
was do not apply themselves wholeheartedly as the kingdom of God requires. When
we hesitate to follow the call, we go off course. When we delay our obedience
to Christ, we steer a wonky furrow.

Therefore, when we know God has spoken, it isn’t a time for
excuses. That is to look back and skew the direction of the plough. Moreover, when
God speaks to us about something new he wants us to do, it isn’t the time to
use the seven last words of a dying church: ‘But we’ve always done it that way.’
That steers us off the course God has for us now. When we face new problems and
God takes us in a different direction, that isn’t the time to bemoan the way it
was in the good old days. Don’t look back, says Jesus; look forward. That is
the nature of kingdom obedience.

Conclusion
Preachers are trained to look at their sermons and ask where the good news is. You
might be forgiven for dwelling on the themes of this sermon and wondering where
the good news is, when Jesus spells out a journey that includes rejection,
being misfits, doing our duty in the face of social opposition and pushing
relentlessly forward, not being allowed to dwell in the warmth of glowing
memories.

However, I think the good news comes in this sense. Yes,
Jesus ‘set his face to go to Jerusalem’ (verse 51), and there, he knew that
suffering awaited him. A journey like this may mean conflict, difficulties and
tribulation for us. Nevertheless, Jesus headed for Jerusalem, because it was
the place where he would ‘be taken up’ (verse 51). ‘Being taken up’ didn’t just
mean the Cross; it also meant the Resurrection and the Ascension. We too may be
on a troublesome journey at times, and like Jesus we may well want to ask the
Father to ‘take this cup’ from us. But within it lies the satisfaction of doing
God’s will, and beyond it lies the glory of God.

Let us press on, as radical disciples of Jesus, in the
service of the kingdom.


[1]
And yes, I know this analogy has all the imperfections of the ransom imagery:
to whom is the ransom/fee paid? However, it is only an image.

[2]
John Nolland, Luke 9:21-18:34 (Word
Biblical Commentary)
; Dallas, Word, 1993, p537.

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