Tomorrow’s Sermon: Going To The Father

John 14:1-14

Introduction
‘Are we there yet?’ If you have ever had small children in a car, you will
be familiar with that persistent question. ‘No,’ you say, and try to encourage
them not to be impatient, even though you know you’ve only just set out and
have hours to go. You will have planned a route, knowing where you are starting
and where you intend to arrive. Perhaps you will also have thought about
stopping places on the way.

And life is a long journey, too. Noticing the Old Testament
language of pilgrimage, we speak of the Christian life as being on a journey. However
certain we are of our faith, we have not arrived yet. We are still travelling. In
the spiritual journey, we again need to know where we are going, where we might
stop and how we get there.

I believe these verses from John 14 are to some extent about
that journey. These days in the Church, we don’t spend so much time thinking
about our ultimate destination. We so focus upon the ‘now’, with our concerns
for social transformation and the like, that we forget something important
here. Where we are going, the stopping places and the overall route will all
affect how we travel now. So this passage – which overlaps so much with the
main Gospel reading at a funeral – should give us direction, as well as the
comfort it provides at funerals. I want to bring together, then, both what we
do now with where we are going for eternity.

1. Destination
Jesus says he is going to the Father. It’s important to get the destination
right. You will go off course if you plan to head for the wrong place. If I think
I have booked a summer holiday in the Mediterranean, but end up in Moscow, I am
going to have all the wrong clothing with me!

In the spiritual journey, I want to suggest we sometimes
mistake the final destination. Just to say we expect to go to heaven when we
die is not to anticipate our final
destination. That may sound strange, if not a downright heresy, but let me
explain – and let me also assure you I am still going to talk in this sermon
about where we go when we die.

According to that great New Testament scholar Tom Wright, the current Bishop of
Durham, John has in view in his Gospel the death, resurrection and ascension of
Jesus[1].
And something similar is what the New Testament has in vision for human beings
and the whole creation. The Book of Revelation looks forward to new heavens and
a new earth, with a new holy city where resurrected human beings will worship
God.

Our overall destination, then, is not simply heaven: it is
an utterly recreated universe. We shall have resurrected bodies, just as Jesus
had. The idea that the body is just a shell and that the real person is inside
is not a Christian one, however much we repeat it. Historically, it comes from
strains of Greek philosophy, which disdained the body. If the body had little
or no value, then it didn’t matter what you did with it. Abusing it didn’t
matter. Infidelity and perversion were of no consequence. Only the soul
mattered.

But the biblical hope is different. It sees people as
integrated bodies, souls and spirits. What we do in the body is a spiritual
issue. That’s why many Christian ethical issues are about physical actions. The
body matters to God. He created it, and he made it good. Fallenness and sin
have damaged it. It rots in the grave, or is burned in cremation. But God’s
plan is to restore it. We believe, as the Creed says, in the resurrection of
the dead. We shall have what Paul in 1 Corinthians 15 calls a ‘spiritual body’ –
not just a spirit, but a spiritual body, a body animated by the Holy Spirit[2],
again just as Jesus did at his Resurrection.

And in a sense, God plans something similar for creation –
there will be new heavens and a new earth. The new holy city will come down out
of heaven from God. The Bible may begin in a garden, but it ends in a city. You
can understand the appeal of the rhyme that says you are closer to God in a
garden than anywhere else on earth. In the city, the dirt, noise and violence may
make you feel far from God. But God is in the business of renewing and
redeeming cities. Our ultimate destination is citizenship of God’s new holy
city!

Now is this pie in the sky when we die? Only in the sense
that we are eating some of the pie now! It is cake on a plate while we wait! My
point is this: if our ultimate destination is resurrection to a body animated
by the Holy Spirit, and citizenship of the new holy city in God’s new creation,
then that has practical implications now. The pie and the cake are not all in
the future. We anticipate them now, by our lifestyle. This is why we care about
healing and social justice: because God will make all things new. It is about our Christian hope.

Not for us the bleak vision of a Dylan Thomas who wanted to
rage against the dying of the night and urged us not to go gently into that
dark night. For Christians, we pray for healing knowing that even God heals
someone, they will die later. But that is not the end. There is the new
creation to come. Healing is a foretaste of the resurrection body. Likewise, we
may campaign to correct social injustice, and we may or may not succeed. Even if
we do, our achievements may later be reversed. But again, we are anticipating
God’s ultimate future. Social justice is a foretaste of the new earth. Our final
destination motivates our action today.

2. Wayfaring Stations
Every now and again, Rebekah brings up the subject of death. She knows I deal
with it quite a lot, given the number of funerals I take – especially recently.
She doesn’t want anyone to die, although we explain to her that God will bring
them all back to life one day. It’s our equivalent of when I asked similar
questions as a boy of my parents. My Dad would say, ‘Imagine the bank [he
worked for NatWest] sent me to work in Australia. I might have to go there
ahead of you, but one day you, your Mum and your sister would all join me in
the house I had been living in, and had been preparing for all of us.’

His answer was reminiscent of what Jesus says in John 14,
when he promises to go and prepare one of the many dwelling-places in his
Father’s house for us, and then come back to take us there (verses 1-4). But
what does Jesus mean by his Father’s house and the dwelling-places? After all,
isn’t this where we get the idea about going to heaven when we die?

‘My Father’s house’ is an interesting figure of speech. Can
you remember what Jesus also called his Father’s house? It was the Temple in
Jerusalem[3].
The Temple, where Jews believed heaven and earth met, had many apartments in
its complex. Pilgrims used these apartments as temporary dwellings when they
arrived in town. Jesus uses these ‘dwelling-places’ as an image of

‘safe places where those who have died may lodge and rest,
like pilgrims in the Temple, not so much in the course of an onward pilgrimage
within the life of a disembodied ‘heaven’, but while awaiting the resurrection
which is still to come.’[4]

So the dwelling-places in the Father’s house signify not our
ultimate destination, but a wayfaring station, a place of rest before we reach
the end of our journey. This would be, then, what Jesus meant when he told the
penitent thief at Calvary that on that very day they would be together in
Paradise. They would be at the divine wayfaring station. It is what Paul says
with different metaphors, when he talks of going to be with the Lord, or when
he and Jesus both refer to death as being asleep. Death is a place of rest
before the resurrection of the dead. Blessèd are the dead, for they rest from
their labours.

What is the practical significance of this for us today? Obviously,
it gives us some comfort to know that our loved ones who are disciples of Jesus
are at peace – especially if their life had been unhappy, they had suffered from
a cruel disease, or the manner of their death was distressing. However, there
is more. In a world filled with strife, friction, argument, bitterness and war,
God wants to grant rest and peace. Again, this gives us a vision for how we may
live in partnership with God’s purposes. Is there a situation where we could
please God by helping to bring rest in place of strife? Is there something we
can do to bring reconciliation in place of fighting, justice instead of war?

3. Route
More and more I find that if people want to come and visit us for the first
time, they don’t ask for directions, they ask for our postcode. Why? Because they
have satellite navigation in their car. They can type in the postcode from which
they are beginning their journey, and our postcode as their destination. Then the
device will guide them through pictures and voice instructions from door to
door. Hopefully, it won’t take them the wrong way down a one-way street, or
down a jetty to a river. Even with perfect sat-nav, we still tell our new
visitors about our house being up a hidden drive.

Our route is also guided by a voice. ‘I am the way,’ says
Jesus (verse 6). He doesn’t simply show the way, he is the way. It is by
listening to his voice and by walking with him that we find the route he has
opened up to our initial temporary resting-place after death, and to our
ultimate destination of bodily resurrection in the new creation. He has already
travelled through death to the temporary wayfaring station of Paradise, and the
Holy Spirit has raised him from the dead. His death and resurrection have
opened up the way to the Father, as he was condemned in our place, freed us
from accusation and brought us new life. Not only that, he shows us the Father
to whom we are going, because if we have seen Jesus, we have seen the Father
(verse 9). If we want to know what the God to whom we are going is like, we
look at Jesus.

Jesus is the route, then. He has cleared the blockages on
the road by his own death and resurrection. The same death and resurrection are
also models for the way we shall travel. And to travel with him, we need to
listen to his voice. The route we take is the way of discipleship. Fundamental to
living in hope in the face of death is that we are committed to listening to
Jesus. Listening to him does not mean we listen and then weigh up whether we
fancy doing what he wants, as if God just made the Ten Suggestions and we can
arbitrate the rights and wrongs. Listening to Jesus only works with a prior
commitment to following him and imitating him. In John 7:17 he says,

‘Anyone who resolves to do the will of God will know whether
the teaching is from God or whether I am speaking on my own.’

We need to resolve to do God’s will, if we are to be true
listeners to Jesus who is our route, our way. There is no point in hearing the
voice on a sat-nav telling us to take a particular road and then ignoring it. The
sat-nav will recalibrate the route in a few seconds, and give some revised
instructions, just as if we fall away from the will of God, Christ will
graciously find a way to get us back on our travels with him. But if we
persistently disregard or disparage the voice of Jesus telling us his way, then
eventually we shall no longer hear the voice.

Our ultimate destination, then, is the bodily resurrection of
the dead to live in God’s new creation. This involves a commitment to social
justice and healing now. Before we get to the resurrection, we rest in death at
the wayfaring station of Paradise. This means a commitment to peace-making now.
To make the journey means a commitment to following the voice of Jesus, who has
built the road and travelled it. And as we follow obediently, we call others to
join with us on the pilgrim way.


[1] N
T Wright, The
Resurrection Of The Son Of God
, pp 445-7.

[2] I
owe this insight to my research supervisor many years ago, Richard Bauckham.

[3]
Luke 2:49; John 2:16.

[4]
Wright, p 446.

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Tomorrow’s Sermon: Going To The Father

John 14:1-14

Introduction
‘Are we there yet?’ If you have ever had small children in a car, you will
be familiar with that persistent question. ‘No,’ you say, and try to encourage
them not to be impatient, even though you know you’ve only just set out and
have hours to go. You will have planned a route, knowing where you are starting
and where you intend to arrive. Perhaps you will also have thought about
stopping places on the way.

And life is a long journey, too. Noticing the Old Testament
language of pilgrimage, we speak of the Christian life as being on a journey. However
certain we are of our faith, we have not arrived yet. We are still travelling. In
the spiritual journey, we again need to know where we are going, where we might
stop and how we get there.

I believe these verses from John 14 are to some extent about
that journey. These days in the Church, we don’t spend so much time thinking
about our ultimate destination. We so focus upon the ‘now’, with our concerns
for social transformation and the like, that we forget something important
here. Where we are going, the stopping places and the overall route will all
affect how we travel now. So this passage – which overlaps so much with the
main Gospel reading at a funeral – should give us direction, as well as the
comfort it provides at funerals. I want to bring together, then, both what we
do now with where we are going for eternity.

1. Destination
Jesus says he is going to the Father. It’s important to get the destination
right. You will go off course if you plan to head for the wrong place. If I think
I have booked a summer holiday in the Mediterranean, but end up in Moscow, I am
going to have all the wrong clothing with me!

In the spiritual journey, I want to suggest we sometimes
mistake the final destination. Just to say we expect to go to heaven when we
die is not to anticipate our final
destination. That may sound strange, if not a downright heresy, but let me
explain – and let me also assure you I am still going to talk in this sermon
about where we go when we die.

According to that great New Testament scholar Tom Wright, the current Bishop of
Durham, John has in view in his Gospel the death, resurrection and ascension of
Jesus[1].
And something similar is what the New Testament has in vision for human beings
and the whole creation. The Book of Revelation looks forward to new heavens and
a new earth, with a new holy city where resurrected human beings will worship
God.

Our overall destination, then, is not simply heaven: it is
an utterly recreated universe. We shall have resurrected bodies, just as Jesus
had. The idea that the body is just a shell and that the real person is inside
is not a Christian one, however much we repeat it. Historically, it comes from
strains of Greek philosophy, which disdained the body. If the body had little
or no value, then it didn’t matter what you did with it. Abusing it didn’t
matter. Infidelity and perversion were of no consequence. Only the soul
mattered.

But the biblical hope is different. It sees people as
integrated bodies, souls and spirits. What we do in the body is a spiritual
issue. That’s why many Christian ethical issues are about physical actions. The
body matters to God. He created it, and he made it good. Fallenness and sin
have damaged it. It rots in the grave, or is burned in cremation. But God’s
plan is to restore it. We believe, as the Creed says, in the resurrection of
the dead. We shall have what Paul in 1 Corinthians 15 calls a ‘spiritual body’ –
not just a spirit, but a spiritual body, a body animated by the Holy Spirit[2],
again just as Jesus did at his Resurrection.

And in a sense, God plans something similar for creation –
there will be new heavens and a new earth. The new holy city will come down out
of heaven from God. The Bible may begin in a garden, but it ends in a city. You
can understand the appeal of the rhyme that says you are closer to God in a
garden than anywhere else on earth. In the city, the dirt, noise and violence may
make you feel far from God. But God is in the business of renewing and
redeeming cities. Our ultimate destination is citizenship of God’s new holy
city!

Now is this pie in the sky when we die? Only in the sense
that we are eating some of the pie now! It is cake on a plate while we wait! My
point is this: if our ultimate destination is resurrection to a body animated
by the Holy Spirit, and citizenship of the new holy city in God’s new creation,
then that has practical implications now. The pie and the cake are not all in
the future. We anticipate them now, by our lifestyle. This is why we care about
healing and social justice: because God will make all things new. It is about our Christian hope.

Not for us the bleak vision of a Dylan Thomas who wanted to
rage against the dying of the night and urged us not to go gently into that
dark night. For Christians, we pray for healing knowing that even God heals
someone, they will die later. But that is not the end. There is the new
creation to come. Healing is a foretaste of the resurrection body. Likewise, we
may campaign to correct social injustice, and we may or may not succeed. Even if
we do, our achievements may later be reversed. But again, we are anticipating
God’s ultimate future. Social justice is a foretaste of the new earth. Our final
destination motivates our action today.

2. Wayfaring Stations
Every now and again, Rebekah brings up the subject of death. She knows I deal
with it quite a lot, given the number of funerals I take – especially recently.
She doesn’t want anyone to die, although we explain to her that God will bring
them all back to life one day. It’s our equivalent of when I asked similar
questions as a boy of my parents. My Dad would say, ‘Imagine the bank [he
worked for NatWest] sent me to work in Australia. I might have to go there
ahead of you, but one day you, your Mum and your sister would all join me in
the house I had been living in, and had been preparing for all of us.’

His answer was reminiscent of what Jesus says in John 14,
when he promises to go and prepare one of the many dwelling-places in his
Father’s house for us, and then come back to take us there (verses 1-4). But
what does Jesus mean by his Father’s house and the dwelling-places? After all,
isn’t this where we get the idea about going to heaven when we die?

‘My Father’s house’ is an interesting figure of speech. Can
you remember what Jesus also called his Father’s house? It was the Temple in
Jerusalem[3].
The Temple, where Jews believed heaven and earth met, had many apartments in
its complex. Pilgrims used these apartments as temporary dwellings when they
arrived in town. Jesus uses these ‘dwelling-places’ as an image of

‘safe places where those who have died may lodge and rest,
like pilgrims in the Temple, not so much in the course of an onward pilgrimage
within the life of a disembodied ‘heaven’, but while awaiting the resurrection
which is still to come.’[4]

So the dwelling-places in the Father’s house signify not our
ultimate destination, but a wayfaring station, a place of rest before we reach
the end of our journey. This would be, then, what Jesus meant when he told the
penitent thief at Calvary that on that very day they would be together in
Paradise. They would be at the divine wayfaring station. It is what Paul says
with different metaphors, when he talks of going to be with the Lord, or when
he and Jesus both refer to death as being asleep. Death is a place of rest
before the resurrection of the dead. Blessèd are the dead, for they rest from
their labours.

What is the practical significance of this for us today? Obviously,
it gives us some comfort to know that our loved ones who are disciples of Jesus
are at peace – especially if their life had been unhappy, they had suffered from
a cruel disease, or the manner of their death was distressing. However, there
is more. In a world filled with strife, friction, argument, bitterness and war,
God wants to grant rest and peace. Again, this gives us a vision for how we may
live in partnership with God’s purposes. Is there a situation where we could
please God by helping to bring rest in place of strife? Is there something we
can do to bring reconciliation in place of fighting, justice instead of war?

3. Route
More and more I find that if people want to come and visit us for the first
time, they don’t ask for directions, they ask for our postcode. Why? Because they
have satellite navigation in their car. They can type in the postcode from which
they are beginning their journey, and our postcode as their destination. Then the
device will guide them through pictures and voice instructions from door to
door. Hopefully, it won’t take them the wrong way down a one-way street, or
down a jetty to a river. Even with perfect sat-nav, we still tell our new
visitors about our house being up a hidden drive.

Our route is also guided by a voice. ‘I am the way,’ says
Jesus (verse 6). He doesn’t simply show the way, he is the way. It is by
listening to his voice and by walking with him that we find the route he has
opened up to our initial temporary resting-place after death, and to our
ultimate destination of bodily resurrection in the new creation. He has already
travelled through death to the temporary wayfaring station of Paradise, and the
Holy Spirit has raised him from the dead. His death and resurrection have
opened up the way to the Father, as he was condemned in our place, freed us
from accusation and brought us new life. Not only that, he shows us the Father
to whom we are going, because if we have seen Jesus, we have seen the Father
(verse 9). If we want to know what the God to whom we are going is like, we
look at Jesus.

Jesus is the route, then. He has cleared the blockages on
the road by his own death and resurrection. The same death and resurrection are
also models for the way we shall travel. And to travel with him, we need to
listen to his voice. The route we take is the way of discipleship. Fundamental to
living in hope in the face of death is that we are committed to listening to
Jesus. Listening to him does not mean we listen and then weigh up whether we
fancy doing what he wants, as if God just made the Ten Suggestions and we can
arbitrate the rights and wrongs. Listening to Jesus only works with a prior
commitment to following him and imitating him. In John 7:17 he says,

‘Anyone who resolves to do the will of God will know whether
the teaching is from God or whether I am speaking on my own.’

We need to resolve to do God’s will, if we are to be true
listeners to Jesus who is our route, our way. There is no point in hearing the
voice on a sat-nav telling us to take a particular road and then ignoring it. The
sat-nav will recalibrate the route in a few seconds, and give some revised
instructions, just as if we fall away from the will of God, Christ will
graciously find a way to get us back on our travels with him. But if we
persistently disregard or disparage the voice of Jesus telling us his way, then
eventually we shall no longer hear the voice.

Our ultimate destination, then, is the bodily resurrection of
the dead to live in God’s new creation. This involves a commitment to social
justice and healing now. Before we get to the resurrection, we rest in death at
the wayfaring station of Paradise. This means a commitment to peace-making now.
To make the journey means a commitment to following the voice of Jesus, who has
built the road and travelled it. And as we follow obediently, we call others to
join with us on the pilgrim way.


[1] N
T Wright, The
Resurrection Of The Son Of God
, pp 445-7.

[2] I
owe this insight to my research supervisor many years ago, Richard Bauckham.

[3]
Luke 2:49; John 2:16.

[4]
Wright, p 446.

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Vocation

From Len Hjalmarson:

Belden Lane relates the story of Peter Matthiesson, who in the late
sixties set out on a 250 mile trek across the Himalayas. The public
object of the trip, along with biologist George Schaller, was to
document the mating and migratory patterns of the Himalayan blue sheep.
But the real goal, near to the heart of Peter Matthiesson, was to
glimpse the rare and elusive snow leopard.

Reading the story it struck me that the public personal of ministers
is to get things done. People will pay us to do work that is
measurable, and to get results. But they won’t pay us to be on
pilgrimage. They won’t pay us.. and sometimes won’t even ask us.. about
the more important work we do. Yet it is the inner vocation that roots
the outer, and we talk about sheep, when we long for a glimpse of
something more elusive.

Ring any bells? It does to me.

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Tomorrow’s Sermon: Foundations For Discipleship

Matthew
4:12-23

Introduction
The painter Edouard Manet is now recognised as one of the great masters of
Impressionist art, but his career didn’t get off to a very promising start. His
first ‘commission’ was as a sixteen-year-old sailor visiting Rio de Janeiro. The
ship’s cargo of cheeses had deteriorated during the long sea voyage, and Manet
was asked to touch up the rinds, which had been damaged on the journey. Unfortunately
the paint which he used had lead in it, and the cheeses caused a local outbreak
of lead poisoning.[1]

Beginnings. For Manet, a disaster. For some of us, an
embarrassment. But sometimes, beginnings show us in microcosm what is to come. Beginnings
can show us the foundations on which the subsequent building will take shape.

In Jesus’ case, we have a story of beginnings here. Matthew
records the beginning of his public work in today’s Gospel reading. In this
short episode, we see some key features that would mark Jesus’ life from now
on.

However, why look at these foundational features of Jesus’
life? Because it’s interesting? No. Because Jesus is our model for life and
discipleship. What might we find?

1. Movement
Some translations say that Jesus ‘withdrew’ to Galilee. You could understand
that, given that this follows John’s arrest (verse 12). But if it is a
withdrawal, it’s a strange one. He hardly goes undercover. This is not the
disappearing act of a stock market trader who has lost his bank between three
and four million pounds!

No. The movement of Jesus is not a withdrawal to hide away,
in case the same forces who despatched his cousin John come knocking for him. Jesus
makes a tactical move to a place where he can launch his public ministry
fruitfully. There is no cowering in the face of opposition here. Admittedly,
Capernaum might be a favourable location: it was within the more tolerant Galilee.
On the other hand, Galilee was historically a base for the Zealots who opposed
Roman occupying forces with terrorist-like guerrilla tactics. And – as the
quotation from Isaiah shows – it was known as ‘Galilee of the Gentiles’. Some of
the synagogues excavated in the area show this influence: when I visited in
1989, you could see the signs of the zodiac on the floor of one, indicating an
interest in astrology. That suggests a fusing of Jewish faith with something
the Scriptures forbid.

So there were pros and cons to Jesus basing himself in
Galilee, and Capernaum in particular. It could be tough, but there were the
prospects for a sympathetic hearing, too. We can be sure of this: Jesus wasn’t
one to batten down the hatches. He didn’t go on the defensive in the face of
difficulties.

I used to know a vicar who had previously been a travelling
evangelist. He said that whatever town he visited in order to conduct a
mission, the local Christians always told him the same story: ‘It’s so hard for
the Gospel here.’ They might even tell him it was the hardest town in the
country for Christian faith. My friend would have no truck with this. He was
not prepared to let their stories daunt him. I think he had a Christ-like
attitude in taking that stance.

It is easy to feel daunted about the prospects for the
Gospel today. Certainly, there are hard places and factors that discourage us. However,
Jesus does not allow us the excuse to pull up the drawbridge and retreat inside
our Christian castle. He calls us to be on the move, looking for opportunities
to be Gospel witnesses. The movement may be geographical – to a new place. The movement
may be one of change in an existing situation.

It is not that I am guaranteeing hordes of converts swarming
into the church. The Jesus who moved about his native country so much in three
years of public ministry saw as many people put off by him or reject him as he
did embrace his message. But wherever he went, he brought light to people
living in darkness. And he calls us to be on the move for the sake of the
Gospel. Moving forwards, that is, not retreating.

2. Message
Jesus has a simple message: ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near’
(verse 17). You want foundations? You have them here. In these words is the
core of Jesus’ message. The kingdom of heaven has come near – what will your
response be? In Jesus, God’s reign comes close – how will you react? More
bluntly, God rules – what are you going to do about it?

God rules. Jesus will demonstrate that. He does so in this
passage, with the healings. He will do so in other ways, with his command over
nature, and by teaching with authority – unlike the religious leaders. God rules.
God does not simply have the title of king, God acts as king. Jesus shows this.
How will people react? Some will respond with joy. It will lead to them
following Jesus. Others will follow while the going is good, and then slip
away. Others will be offended. They will oppose him, and kill him.

One thing you don’t see is apathy. It was hard to encounter
Jesus and just shrug your shoulders as if nothing had happened. Because something
had happened. Someone had happened. You had to lean one way or another. You couldn’t
stay in the middle of the road.

When John Sentamu was enthroned
as Archbishop of York in November 2005, he pointed to this issue in his
enthronement sermon:

“The scandal of the church is that the Christ-event is no
longer life-changing, it has become life-enhancing,” he said. “We’ve lost the
power and joy that makes real disciples, and we’ve become consumers of religion
and not disciples of Jesus Christ.”

Perhaps that is our problem. Jesus never meant his message
to be life-enhancing, something that would make a good thing better. You can
see plenty of adverts for such products in a consumer society. However, Jesus
is not a product. Jesus is Lord, and he represents his Father, the King of the
universe. Jesus is not a deluxe addition to life. Jesus is life or death. We rely
on him, not on touching wood.

If we truly believe this, it will show in our lifestyles. There
will be something special about us, not just as individuals, but also as the
community of the church. People will say again, ‘See how those Christians love
one another.’ Society will be alternately seeking us for help, and in awe of
us, keeping their distance. If the world can see that Jesus orders our lives,
and the difference that makes, we shall earn the right to speak and challenge
people to walk in his ways, too. While Jesus is just a consumer choice, though,
we shall have no such cutting edge to our proclamation.

3. Mission
I have dim and distant memories of starting Sunday School as a small boy. In the
Beginners’ Department, we marched round in a circle to put our offertory in the
box, singing the same song every week: ‘Hear the pennies dropping.’ They were
such joyful days, singing away, that I bawled my eyes out when I moved to the
Infants’ Department on Promotion Sunday one year.

The singing left a mark on me in those early days. If I ever
see a book of the old CSSM Choruses, I have fond memories. When Rebekah first
came back from the Edward Bear Club at St Mary’s singing ‘Wide, wide as the
ocean’, I went misty-eyed.

And one song in particular formed its shape on my memory. ‘I
will make you fishers of men, if you follow me.’ Of course, it quotes our story
today. Jesus sees two fishermen, Simon Peter and his brother Andrew, casting a
net into the lake (verse 18), and he says, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish
for people’ (verse 19). They leave their nets straight away to follow him
(verse 20), and he repeats the summons to James and John, the sons of Zebedee
(verses 21-22).

It was common for young men following a rabbi to imbibe both
his teaching and his lifestyle. However, normally, the young man would make his
own approach to the rabbi. It was highly unusual for the master to take the
initiative in calling someone to follow him.[2]

But that’s what happens here: Jesus says, ‘Follow me’. He is
intentional about gaining disciples. For mission is at the heart of his life. Not
only that, the disciples are to reproduce that emphasis on mission, if they are
to imitate him. Thus, it becomes, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for
people.’

Mission, then, for Jesus, is not an optional extra for
particularly enthusiastic disciples. It is for all. Not all of us are
evangelists (research suggests about one in ten might be). However, we are all
witnesses. We all have a part to play in God’s mission.

I read a
moving story
[3]
along these lines yesterday. A man who rejoiced under the name Catfish
occasionally darkened the doors of a church building. He wasn’t regular, like
his wife. He was diagnosed with cancer. Someone regularly visited him in
hospital. Twice, the visitor asked Catfish if he’d made his peace with God. Every
time, he gave the same answer: ‘The Lord’s Spirit don’t strive with me anymore,
because I denied him and I missed my chance.’

The third time he visited, Catfish was waiting to die. The visitor
said, ‘You know what I’m going to ask, I want to know if you’ve made your peace
with God.’ Back came the usual answer. ‘The Spirit don’t strive with me
anymore. I’ve missed my chance.’ The friend squeezed Catfish’s hand, looked him
in the eye, and said, ‘My God is more merciful than that.’ Catfish broke down
in tears and found the peace of God before he died. All because one friend had
the courage to fish, and tell him what God was really like.

4. Ministry
The story naturally ends at verse 22, but for some reason the Lectionary gives
us verse 23, which is the first verse of the next episode in the Gospel:

Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues
and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every
sickness among the people.

Here, Jesus puts it all together and applies what he has
already modelled. There is movement
‘throughout Galilee’; the message – ‘proclaiming
the good news of the kingdom’; and there is mission,
as he heals the sick.

I can sum up the theme of Jesus’ ministry by recounting a
story. I mentioned earlier that I visited the Holy Land in 1989. When we
visited Galilee, we had the privilege on the Sunday morning of attending a Melkite
church[4]
in the village of Ibillin. The priest was a Palestinian man called Elias Chacour[5].
He is internationally famous for promoting reconciliation between the warring
communities in the Holy Land. Since his church was in communion with the Pope
and most of us weren’t Catholics, there was a delicate question about receiving
Holy Communion from him. We expected to hear that we couldn’t partake, and at
most could receive a blessing. We reckoned without Elias Chacour. He said, ‘Nobody
ordained me to check someone’s membership ticket. You are all welcome at the
sacrament.’

It was pure grace. No checking whether we met his standards;
Father Elias gave the bread and wine to all who would receive whatever God
would give them. And in that simple but rebellious act, I see an echo of Jesus.
As he travels around Galilee, preaching and healing, there is no hint that he
only offers the benefits of the kingdom to those who are good enough, to the
respectable, to those who tick the right boxes. He gives the love of God in
every way, to all and sundry, in an unconditional manner. He is not like the church
I once heard of that used to bus in elderly lonely people for socialising and a
meal, but which would not feed them until they had agreed to listen to the Gospel.
Jesus behaves here like the sower of his famous parable, who recklessly and
generously threw the seed here, there and everywhere, and waited for the
results. May the same sense of abandon characterise the way we spread around the
love of God.


[1]
Simon Coupland, Spicing
Up Your Speaking
, p 203 # 193.

[4] The
Melkites are ordered like the Eastern Orthodox, but are in communion with Rome.

[5]
See his books Blood
Brothers
and We
Belong To The Land
, or his biography The
Other Side Of Welcome
.

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

Tomorrow’s Sermon: Foundations For Discipleship

Matthew
4:12-23

Introduction
The painter Edouard Manet is now recognised as one of the great masters of
Impressionist art, but his career didn’t get off to a very promising start. His
first ‘commission’ was as a sixteen-year-old sailor visiting Rio de Janeiro. The
ship’s cargo of cheeses had deteriorated during the long sea voyage, and Manet
was asked to touch up the rinds, which had been damaged on the journey. Unfortunately
the paint which he used had lead in it, and the cheeses caused a local outbreak
of lead poisoning.[1]

Beginnings. For Manet, a disaster. For some of us, an
embarrassment. But sometimes, beginnings show us in microcosm what is to come. Beginnings
can show us the foundations on which the subsequent building will take shape.

In Jesus’ case, we have a story of beginnings here. Matthew
records the beginning of his public work in today’s Gospel reading. In this
short episode, we see some key features that would mark Jesus’ life from now
on.

However, why look at these foundational features of Jesus’
life? Because it’s interesting? No. Because Jesus is our model for life and
discipleship. What might we find?

1. Movement
Some translations say that Jesus ‘withdrew’ to Galilee. You could understand
that, given that this follows John’s arrest (verse 12). But if it is a
withdrawal, it’s a strange one. He hardly goes undercover. This is not the
disappearing act of a stock market trader who has lost his bank between three
and four million pounds!

No. The movement of Jesus is not a withdrawal to hide away,
in case the same forces who despatched his cousin John come knocking for him. Jesus
makes a tactical move to a place where he can launch his public ministry
fruitfully. There is no cowering in the face of opposition here. Admittedly,
Capernaum might be a favourable location: it was within the more tolerant Galilee.
On the other hand, Galilee was historically a base for the Zealots who opposed
Roman occupying forces with terrorist-like guerrilla tactics. And – as the
quotation from Isaiah shows – it was known as ‘Galilee of the Gentiles’. Some of
the synagogues excavated in the area show this influence: when I visited in
1989, you could see the signs of the zodiac on the floor of one, indicating an
interest in astrology. That suggests a fusing of Jewish faith with something
the Scriptures forbid.

So there were pros and cons to Jesus basing himself in
Galilee, and Capernaum in particular. It could be tough, but there were the
prospects for a sympathetic hearing, too. We can be sure of this: Jesus wasn’t
one to batten down the hatches. He didn’t go on the defensive in the face of
difficulties.

I used to know a vicar who had previously been a travelling
evangelist. He said that whatever town he visited in order to conduct a
mission, the local Christians always told him the same story: ‘It’s so hard for
the Gospel here.’ They might even tell him it was the hardest town in the
country for Christian faith. My friend would have no truck with this. He was
not prepared to let their stories daunt him. I think he had a Christ-like
attitude in taking that stance.

It is easy to feel daunted about the prospects for the
Gospel today. Certainly, there are hard places and factors that discourage us. However,
Jesus does not allow us the excuse to pull up the drawbridge and retreat inside
our Christian castle. He calls us to be on the move, looking for opportunities
to be Gospel witnesses. The movement may be geographical – to a new place. The movement
may be one of change in an existing situation.

It is not that I am guaranteeing hordes of converts swarming
into the church. The Jesus who moved about his native country so much in three
years of public ministry saw as many people put off by him or reject him as he
did embrace his message. But wherever he went, he brought light to people
living in darkness. And he calls us to be on the move for the sake of the
Gospel. Moving forwards, that is, not retreating.

2. Message
Jesus has a simple message: ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near’
(verse 17). You want foundations? You have them here. In these words is the
core of Jesus’ message. The kingdom of heaven has come near – what will your
response be? In Jesus, God’s reign comes close – how will you react? More
bluntly, God rules – what are you going to do about it?

God rules. Jesus will demonstrate that. He does so in this
passage, with the healings. He will do so in other ways, with his command over
nature, and by teaching with authority – unlike the religious leaders. God rules.
God does not simply have the title of king, God acts as king. Jesus shows this.
How will people react? Some will respond with joy. It will lead to them
following Jesus. Others will follow while the going is good, and then slip
away. Others will be offended. They will oppose him, and kill him.

One thing you don’t see is apathy. It was hard to encounter
Jesus and just shrug your shoulders as if nothing had happened. Because something
had happened. Someone had happened. You had to lean one way or another. You couldn’t
stay in the middle of the road.

When John Sentamu was enthroned
as Archbishop of York in November 2005, he pointed to this issue in his
enthronement sermon:

“The scandal of the church is that the Christ-event is no
longer life-changing, it has become life-enhancing,” he said. “We’ve lost the
power and joy that makes real disciples, and we’ve become consumers of religion
and not disciples of Jesus Christ.”

Perhaps that is our problem. Jesus never meant his message
to be life-enhancing, something that would make a good thing better. You can
see plenty of adverts for such products in a consumer society. However, Jesus
is not a product. Jesus is Lord, and he represents his Father, the King of the
universe. Jesus is not a deluxe addition to life. Jesus is life or death. We rely
on him, not on touching wood.

If we truly believe this, it will show in our lifestyles. There
will be something special about us, not just as individuals, but also as the
community of the church. People will say again, ‘See how those Christians love
one another.’ Society will be alternately seeking us for help, and in awe of
us, keeping their distance. If the world can see that Jesus orders our lives,
and the difference that makes, we shall earn the right to speak and challenge
people to walk in his ways, too. While Jesus is just a consumer choice, though,
we shall have no such cutting edge to our proclamation.

3. Mission
I have dim and distant memories of starting Sunday School as a small boy. In the
Beginners’ Department, we marched round in a circle to put our offertory in the
box, singing the same song every week: ‘Hear the pennies dropping.’ They were
such joyful days, singing away, that I bawled my eyes out when I moved to the
Infants’ Department on Promotion Sunday one year.

The singing left a mark on me in those early days. If I ever
see a book of the old CSSM Choruses, I have fond memories. When Rebekah first
came back from the Edward Bear Club at St Mary’s singing ‘Wide, wide as the
ocean’, I went misty-eyed.

And one song in particular formed its shape on my memory. ‘I
will make you fishers of men, if you follow me.’ Of course, it quotes our story
today. Jesus sees two fishermen, Simon Peter and his brother Andrew, casting a
net into the lake (verse 18), and he says, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish
for people’ (verse 19). They leave their nets straight away to follow him
(verse 20), and he repeats the summons to James and John, the sons of Zebedee
(verses 21-22).

It was common for young men following a rabbi to imbibe both
his teaching and his lifestyle. However, normally, the young man would make his
own approach to the rabbi. It was highly unusual for the master to take the
initiative in calling someone to follow him.[2]

But that’s what happens here: Jesus says, ‘Follow me’. He is
intentional about gaining disciples. For mission is at the heart of his life. Not
only that, the disciples are to reproduce that emphasis on mission, if they are
to imitate him. Thus, it becomes, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for
people.’

Mission, then, for Jesus, is not an optional extra for
particularly enthusiastic disciples. It is for all. Not all of us are
evangelists (research suggests about one in ten might be). However, we are all
witnesses. We all have a part to play in God’s mission.

I read a
moving story
[3]
along these lines yesterday. A man who rejoiced under the name Catfish
occasionally darkened the doors of a church building. He wasn’t regular, like
his wife. He was diagnosed with cancer. Someone regularly visited him in
hospital. Twice, the visitor asked Catfish if he’d made his peace with God. Every
time, he gave the same answer: ‘The Lord’s Spirit don’t strive with me anymore,
because I denied him and I missed my chance.’

The third time he visited, Catfish was waiting to die. The visitor
said, ‘You know what I’m going to ask, I want to know if you’ve made your peace
with God.’ Back came the usual answer. ‘The Spirit don’t strive with me
anymore. I’ve missed my chance.’ The friend squeezed Catfish’s hand, looked him
in the eye, and said, ‘My God is more merciful than that.’ Catfish broke down
in tears and found the peace of God before he died. All because one friend had
the courage to fish, and tell him what God was really like.

4. Ministry
The story naturally ends at verse 22, but for some reason the Lectionary gives
us verse 23, which is the first verse of the next episode in the Gospel:

Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues
and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every
sickness among the people.

Here, Jesus puts it all together and applies what he has
already modelled. There is movement
‘throughout Galilee’; the message – ‘proclaiming
the good news of the kingdom’; and there is mission,
as he heals the sick.

I can sum up the theme of Jesus’ ministry by recounting a
story. I mentioned earlier that I visited the Holy Land in 1989. When we
visited Galilee, we had the privilege on the Sunday morning of attending a Melkite
church[4]
in the village of Ibillin. The priest was a Palestinian man called Elias Chacour[5].
He is internationally famous for promoting reconciliation between the warring
communities in the Holy Land. Since his church was in communion with the Pope
and most of us weren’t Catholics, there was a delicate question about receiving
Holy Communion from him. We expected to hear that we couldn’t partake, and at
most could receive a blessing. We reckoned without Elias Chacour. He said, ‘Nobody
ordained me to check someone’s membership ticket. You are all welcome at the
sacrament.’

It was pure grace. No checking whether we met his standards;
Father Elias gave the bread and wine to all who would receive whatever God
would give them. And in that simple but rebellious act, I see an echo of Jesus.
As he travels around Galilee, preaching and healing, there is no hint that he
only offers the benefits of the kingdom to those who are good enough, to the
respectable, to those who tick the right boxes. He gives the love of God in
every way, to all and sundry, in an unconditional manner. He is not like the church
I once heard of that used to bus in elderly lonely people for socialising and a
meal, but which would not feed them until they had agreed to listen to the Gospel.
Jesus behaves here like the sower of his famous parable, who recklessly and
generously threw the seed here, there and everywhere, and waited for the
results. May the same sense of abandon characterise the way we spread around the
love of God.


[1]
Simon Coupland, Spicing
Up Your Speaking
, p 203 # 193.

[4] The
Melkites are ordered like the Eastern Orthodox, but are in communion with Rome.

[5]
See his books Blood
Brothers
and We
Belong To The Land
, or his biography The
Other Side Of Welcome
.

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

Tomorrow’s Sermon: Foundations For Discipleship

Matthew
4:12-23

Introduction
The painter Edouard Manet is now recognised as one of the great masters of
Impressionist art, but his career didn’t get off to a very promising start. His
first ‘commission’ was as a sixteen-year-old sailor visiting Rio de Janeiro. The
ship’s cargo of cheeses had deteriorated during the long sea voyage, and Manet
was asked to touch up the rinds, which had been damaged on the journey. Unfortunately
the paint which he used had lead in it, and the cheeses caused a local outbreak
of lead poisoning.[1]

Beginnings. For Manet, a disaster. For some of us, an
embarrassment. But sometimes, beginnings show us in microcosm what is to come. Beginnings
can show us the foundations on which the subsequent building will take shape.

In Jesus’ case, we have a story of beginnings here. Matthew
records the beginning of his public work in today’s Gospel reading. In this
short episode, we see some key features that would mark Jesus’ life from now
on.

However, why look at these foundational features of Jesus’
life? Because it’s interesting? No. Because Jesus is our model for life and
discipleship. What might we find?

1. Movement
Some translations say that Jesus ‘withdrew’ to Galilee. You could understand
that, given that this follows John’s arrest (verse 12). But if it is a
withdrawal, it’s a strange one. He hardly goes undercover. This is not the
disappearing act of a stock market trader who has lost his bank between three
and four million pounds!

No. The movement of Jesus is not a withdrawal to hide away,
in case the same forces who despatched his cousin John come knocking for him. Jesus
makes a tactical move to a place where he can launch his public ministry
fruitfully. There is no cowering in the face of opposition here. Admittedly,
Capernaum might be a favourable location: it was within the more tolerant Galilee.
On the other hand, Galilee was historically a base for the Zealots who opposed
Roman occupying forces with terrorist-like guerrilla tactics. And – as the
quotation from Isaiah shows – it was known as ‘Galilee of the Gentiles’. Some of
the synagogues excavated in the area show this influence: when I visited in
1989, you could see the signs of the zodiac on the floor of one, indicating an
interest in astrology. That suggests a fusing of Jewish faith with something
the Scriptures forbid.

So there were pros and cons to Jesus basing himself in
Galilee, and Capernaum in particular. It could be tough, but there were the
prospects for a sympathetic hearing, too. We can be sure of this: Jesus wasn’t
one to batten down the hatches. He didn’t go on the defensive in the face of
difficulties.

I used to know a vicar who had previously been a travelling
evangelist. He said that whatever town he visited in order to conduct a
mission, the local Christians always told him the same story: ‘It’s so hard for
the Gospel here.’ They might even tell him it was the hardest town in the
country for Christian faith. My friend would have no truck with this. He was
not prepared to let their stories daunt him. I think he had a Christ-like
attitude in taking that stance.

It is easy to feel daunted about the prospects for the
Gospel today. Certainly, there are hard places and factors that discourage us. However,
Jesus does not allow us the excuse to pull up the drawbridge and retreat inside
our Christian castle. He calls us to be on the move, looking for opportunities
to be Gospel witnesses. The movement may be geographical – to a new place. The movement
may be one of change in an existing situation.

It is not that I am guaranteeing hordes of converts swarming
into the church. The Jesus who moved about his native country so much in three
years of public ministry saw as many people put off by him or reject him as he
did embrace his message. But wherever he went, he brought light to people
living in darkness. And he calls us to be on the move for the sake of the
Gospel. Moving forwards, that is, not retreating.

2. Message
Jesus has a simple message: ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near’
(verse 17). You want foundations? You have them here. In these words is the
core of Jesus’ message. The kingdom of heaven has come near – what will your
response be? In Jesus, God’s reign comes close – how will you react? More
bluntly, God rules – what are you going to do about it?

God rules. Jesus will demonstrate that. He does so in this
passage, with the healings. He will do so in other ways, with his command over
nature, and by teaching with authority – unlike the religious leaders. God rules.
God does not simply have the title of king, God acts as king. Jesus shows this.
How will people react? Some will respond with joy. It will lead to them
following Jesus. Others will follow while the going is good, and then slip
away. Others will be offended. They will oppose him, and kill him.

One thing you don’t see is apathy. It was hard to encounter
Jesus and just shrug your shoulders as if nothing had happened. Because something
had happened. Someone had happened. You had to lean one way or another. You couldn’t
stay in the middle of the road.

When John Sentamu was enthroned
as Archbishop of York in November 2005, he pointed to this issue in his
enthronement sermon:

“The scandal of the church is that the Christ-event is no
longer life-changing, it has become life-enhancing,” he said. “We’ve lost the
power and joy that makes real disciples, and we’ve become consumers of religion
and not disciples of Jesus Christ.”

Perhaps that is our problem. Jesus never meant his message
to be life-enhancing, something that would make a good thing better. You can
see plenty of adverts for such products in a consumer society. However, Jesus
is not a product. Jesus is Lord, and he represents his Father, the King of the
universe. Jesus is not a deluxe addition to life. Jesus is life or death. We rely
on him, not on touching wood.

If we truly believe this, it will show in our lifestyles. There
will be something special about us, not just as individuals, but also as the
community of the church. People will say again, ‘See how those Christians love
one another.’ Society will be alternately seeking us for help, and in awe of
us, keeping their distance. If the world can see that Jesus orders our lives,
and the difference that makes, we shall earn the right to speak and challenge
people to walk in his ways, too. While Jesus is just a consumer choice, though,
we shall have no such cutting edge to our proclamation.

3. Mission
I have dim and distant memories of starting Sunday School as a small boy. In the
Beginners’ Department, we marched round in a circle to put our offertory in the
box, singing the same song every week: ‘Hear the pennies dropping.’ They were
such joyful days, singing away, that I bawled my eyes out when I moved to the
Infants’ Department on Promotion Sunday one year.

The singing left a mark on me in those early days. If I ever
see a book of the old CSSM Choruses, I have fond memories. When Rebekah first
came back from the Edward Bear Club at St Mary’s singing ‘Wide, wide as the
ocean’, I went misty-eyed.

And one song in particular formed its shape on my memory. ‘I
will make you fishers of men, if you follow me.’ Of course, it quotes our story
today. Jesus sees two fishermen, Simon Peter and his brother Andrew, casting a
net into the lake (verse 18), and he says, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish
for people’ (verse 19). They leave their nets straight away to follow him
(verse 20), and he repeats the summons to James and John, the sons of Zebedee
(verses 21-22).

It was common for young men following a rabbi to imbibe both
his teaching and his lifestyle. However, normally, the young man would make his
own approach to the rabbi. It was highly unusual for the master to take the
initiative in calling someone to follow him.[2]

But that’s what happens here: Jesus says, ‘Follow me’. He is
intentional about gaining disciples. For mission is at the heart of his life. Not
only that, the disciples are to reproduce that emphasis on mission, if they are
to imitate him. Thus, it becomes, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for
people.’

Mission, then, for Jesus, is not an optional extra for
particularly enthusiastic disciples. It is for all. Not all of us are
evangelists (research suggests about one in ten might be). However, we are all
witnesses. We all have a part to play in God’s mission.

I read a
moving story
[3]
along these lines yesterday. A man who rejoiced under the name Catfish
occasionally darkened the doors of a church building. He wasn’t regular, like
his wife. He was diagnosed with cancer. Someone regularly visited him in
hospital. Twice, the visitor asked Catfish if he’d made his peace with God. Every
time, he gave the same answer: ‘The Lord’s Spirit don’t strive with me anymore,
because I denied him and I missed my chance.’

The third time he visited, Catfish was waiting to die. The visitor
said, ‘You know what I’m going to ask, I want to know if you’ve made your peace
with God.’ Back came the usual answer. ‘The Spirit don’t strive with me
anymore. I’ve missed my chance.’ The friend squeezed Catfish’s hand, looked him
in the eye, and said, ‘My God is more merciful than that.’ Catfish broke down
in tears and found the peace of God before he died. All because one friend had
the courage to fish, and tell him what God was really like.

4. Ministry
The story naturally ends at verse 22, but for some reason the Lectionary gives
us verse 23, which is the first verse of the next episode in the Gospel:

Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues
and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every
sickness among the people.

Here, Jesus puts it all together and applies what he has
already modelled. There is movement
‘throughout Galilee’; the message – ‘proclaiming
the good news of the kingdom’; and there is mission,
as he heals the sick.

I can sum up the theme of Jesus’ ministry by recounting a
story. I mentioned earlier that I visited the Holy Land in 1989. When we
visited Galilee, we had the privilege on the Sunday morning of attending a Melkite
church[4]
in the village of Ibillin. The priest was a Palestinian man called Elias Chacour[5].
He is internationally famous for promoting reconciliation between the warring
communities in the Holy Land. Since his church was in communion with the Pope
and most of us weren’t Catholics, there was a delicate question about receiving
Holy Communion from him. We expected to hear that we couldn’t partake, and at
most could receive a blessing. We reckoned without Elias Chacour. He said, ‘Nobody
ordained me to check someone’s membership ticket. You are all welcome at the
sacrament.’

It was pure grace. No checking whether we met his standards;
Father Elias gave the bread and wine to all who would receive whatever God
would give them. And in that simple but rebellious act, I see an echo of Jesus.
As he travels around Galilee, preaching and healing, there is no hint that he
only offers the benefits of the kingdom to those who are good enough, to the
respectable, to those who tick the right boxes. He gives the love of God in
every way, to all and sundry, in an unconditional manner. He is not like the church
I once heard of that used to bus in elderly lonely people for socialising and a
meal, but which would not feed them until they had agreed to listen to the Gospel.
Jesus behaves here like the sower of his famous parable, who recklessly and
generously threw the seed here, there and everywhere, and waited for the
results. May the same sense of abandon characterise the way we spread around the
love of God.


[1]
Simon Coupland, Spicing
Up Your Speaking
, p 203 # 193.

[4] The
Melkites are ordered like the Eastern Orthodox, but are in communion with Rome.

[5]
See his books Blood
Brothers
and We
Belong To The Land
, or his biography The
Other Side Of Welcome
.

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

Holiday Mishaps

I hope this makes you smile:

We were due to go to the Isle of Wight for a week’s holiday last Saturday week. Debbie had booked the holiday cottage. She gave me the dates. I duly booked the ferry. On the preceding Wednesday, she checked the papers. It wasn’t a Saturday to Saturday booking after all, but Friday to Friday. A desperate call to the company with whom we booked the ferry ensued. After speaking to the ferry operator, we were rebooked onto a ferry at 6:30 pm on the Friday evening. It had to be that late, because I was already covering a funeral that lunchtime for a colleague who was away on a Boys’ and Girls’ Brigade camp.

After the funeral, I got home and a frantic Debbie asked me to change as quickly as possible. There had been a crash on the M25 (the London orbital motorway/car park for international readers) at 7:30 that morning, on part of the stretch we would be driving. The motorway was closed. With Debbie at the wheel and me navigating, we improvised a route off the M25 as soon as possible. However, wherever we went south of the motorway, we hit gridlocked towns. Tonbridge and East Grinstead were two of the worst.

We arrived at the ferry port at 8:10 pm. ‘Oh, there have been hundreds of you today,’ said a kind staff member. Just get in the queue for the next ferry. We sailed on the 8:30 pm crossing, with two children who would by now normally be fast asleep.

Just as we were about to disembark at 9:15 pm, my mobile phone rang. It was the delivery driver from Tesco. We had ordered online a grocery delivery at the holiday cottage for between 9 and 11 pm, expecting we would have arrived there around 7:30! He offered to make his one other delivery of the night, and then meet us at the store. We didn’t make it in time. I rang Tesco’s online headquarters in Dundee. They – to my considerable surprise and pleasure – said they would refund the cost of the shopping. They arranged for it to be delivered again the next day, between 5 and 7 pm.

But the next day, by 7:15 pm, the shopping hadn’t arrived. Another phone call to Dundee. This time, an embarrassed Tesco employee at the other end. Yes, they had delivered our shopping, but not to our holiday address on the Isle of Wight. It had gone to our manse in Chelmsford.

The holiday improved after that. In the meantime, if any of you can think of creative applications of this story as sermon illustrations, over to you! Any ideas?

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Department Of Dumb Lyrics

In the great tradition of dumb lyric writing (favourite example: Thin Lizzy – ‘Tonight there’s going to be a jailbreak, somewhere in this town’ – er, presumably at the jail) comes this contribution from Sheryl Crow in her song ‘Good Is Good’:

And every time you hear the rolling thunder
You turn around before the lightning strikes.

So now we know – sound travels faster than light in Ms Crow’s world.

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Church And Environment

Here are my notes from last night’s meeting of the Chelmsford Cathedral Theological Society. Claire Foster is the Church of England’s national adviser on environmental issues. She also serves on the 10 Downing Street Climate Change Group And David Cameron’s Quality Of Life Commission.

CHELMSFORD CATHEDRAL THEOLOGICAL SOCIETY
4TH OCTOBER 2006
CLAIRE FOSTER
‘A NEW DEUTERONOMY? THE CHURCH’S RESPONSE TO THE ENVIRONMENTAL CRISIS’

 
‘A New Deuteronomy’ is a new rule of life. Christians need
to perceive things spiritually and contemplatively first of all, in four ways:

1. The Creation
Covenant

I.e., this is renewed after the flood with Noah. The Hebrew
words for ‘covenant’ and ‘creation’ both have in their meanings the sense of
‘binding’. Creation is bound to God, and all the parts of creation are bound to
each other.

2. The Sacrament Of
Creation

Nowhere in creation is God absent. Therefore there is no
‘other’ and there is no ‘away’ for ‘throwing away’. Whatever other philosophies
and faiths believe about ‘matter’, Christians believe that ‘matter’ leads us to
God.

3 The Rôle Of
Humanity

(a) Prophets – seers of God, lovingly attentive to creation,
who then speak.

(b) Priests – actively passing things through their hands,
standing between God and humanity, blessing the earth.

(c) Kings – in a ‘servant king’ sense, where dominion is not
domination but vice-regency consciously under God. It is stewardship of the
earth. [Refreshingly Foster clearly believes Genesis 1 is redeemable for
creation care, in contrast to Celia Deane-Drummond, who prefers ‘Creation
Through Wisdom’ and finds it hard to rehabilitate Genesis after its misuse.]
Adam was called to till the earth and Christ is the Second Adam; we, the
children of God, are looked to by creation in its groaning (Romans 8).

4. Sabbath – The
Feast Of ‘Enoughness’

Sabbath is the word ‘stop’ in the face of consumption. It is
the word of peace to creation. Sabbath, the seventh day, is the crown of
creation.

Questions
In response to questions, especially those asking why she
had not given more specific advice about taking action, Foster said that
contemplation of creation and its Creator was primary, because this motivated
action. However she referred to various websites:

Shrinking
The Footprint
, the Church Of England’s national environmental campaign,
featuring ‘The 40% Church’ – measures to help churches reduce their carbon
emissions by 60%, in line with the concern that world carbon emissions need to
reduce by that amount by 2050.

Seat 61 – travel
anywhere in the world by train, ferry and ship, not using air travel.

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