Matthew
9:35-10:23

Introduction
Jesus could not be a leader in our church.

There, I’ve said it.

If Jesus offered for the ministry, we would turn him down.

Why? Because we structure for pastoral care, but Jesus
planned for mission. If you want to be a minister, you are offering to be in ‘pastoral
charge’ of a congregation, administer the sacraments to the faithful and preach
the Gospel to them. If you were to be an apostle, a prophet or an evangelist,
you wouldn’t fit the job description. Jesus was all those things.

Oh, he showed pastoral care and taught the disciples, too –
he uniquely was the master of all the leadership gifts. But here, as so often
in the Gospels, Jesus is a man on a mission. His Father’s mission.

So, rather than taking our cue from church – which may be ‘life,
Jim, but not as we know it’ – I want us to listen to the subversive Jesus, the
missionary Jesus, to understand how he calls us to share in his Father’s
mission.

1. Compassion
Mission starts with compassion. It does for Jesus, here. He heals the sick
(verse 35), but also observes that the crowds are ‘harassed and helpless, like
sheep without a shepherd’ (verse 36). In other words, they are lost, without
true direction and purpose in life. This moves Jesus at the very depth of his
being. How can people be like rudderless ships, blown everywhere and without
the destiny of his Father’s kingdom? He is on the point of weeping.

This needs to motivate our concern for mission, too. Our reason
for reaching out to people has to be their need of Christ. Some jog along happily
without him, not realising their folly. Others sink into addictions (from
shopping to narcotic drugs) as a means of covering their emotional pain, or
because they cannot cope with stress. Some live for the moment, regardless of
the harm they do to themselves and others. Others have an emptiness they don’t
want to face. These are reasons for mission.

How that contrasts with some approaches in the church. Sadly,
sometimes our motivation for mission is not compassion for those missing from
Christ; it is to save our own skins. If we don’t do something, our church will
close. We need more people in order to do the jobs. These speak more about the maintenance
of a religious club than compassion for the lost. Which do we suppose Jesus
would support? Our passage tells us the answer. He has compassion for the
missing.

2. Prayer
Does compassion drive Jesus straight into action? No. It drives him to prayer,
and he calls his disciples to pray, too:

Then he said to his disciples, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but
the labourers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out
labourers into his harvest.’ (Verses 37-38)

Here’s the point: mission is a spiritual exercise. You can
have all the strategies, tactics, feasibility studies and risk assessments you
like: ultimately, mission is a spiritual cause and requires a spiritual foundation.
The vehicle is spiritual, and the fuel must be spiritual. Prayer is the fuel of
mission.

So mission is not in the first instance about finding the
right methods, programmes or mechanisms: it must be a subject for prayer. ‘Lord,
you have moved our hearts with compassion, so we pray to you. You see the need,
Lord, raise up those who will help.’ Prayerless mission is hopeless mission. Prayerful
mission is hopeful mission.

But there is a catch. Just because mission depends on prayer
doesn’t mean we leave it all in God’s hands and do nothing ourselves. This is
where it’s great that the Lectionary reading straddles chapters nine and ten of
Matthew. Chapter 9 ends with this call to prayer. Chapter 10 begins with Jesus
calling the apostles, and commissioning them to heal people and cast out evil
spirits (verses 1-4). There is no separation of these two things in Matthew’s
thought.

What do I mean? I mean that we need to pray, but we also
need to be willing to be part of God’s answer to our prayers. The twelve
apostles were among those Jesus called to pray. Next thing we know, Jesus is
saying, you go out on mission.

So here is an important lesson for us from Jesus. Never
forget that mission is spiritual, and can only be accomplished with the
spiritual fuel of prayer. But be willing to be part of the answer. So – let us
pray for those where God fires us with compassion. But let us also be willing
to be those who share God’s love with the same people.

3. Start Where You
Are
Doesn’t it seem strange that Jesus tells the apostles not to go to the Gentiles
or the Samaritans, but to ‘the lost sheep of the house of Israel’ (verses 5-6)?
Wouldn’t you think he’d send them to those furthest away from God’s kingdom, to
those most likely depraved and evil, in the sight of a good Jew? No. The lost
sheep of the house of Israel.

I’ve met quite a few Christians who have a secret fear of
asking God what he wants them to do with their lives, and so they don’t ask
him, because they expect it will be something they dread. One common fear has
been the thought that the moment you open yourself up to God’s will for your
life, he will send you far away across the sea to do the thing you fear the
most.

Now I don’t want to knock the idea that God calls us to
tremendous challenges, but I do want to question the idea that God is some kind
of sadist who only calls us to the things we hate. And it may be that in the
case of mission, he often calls us to start where we are. It’s what happens in
the Acts of the Apostles: they start in Jerusalem, they expand into Judea, then
they get into Samaria and eventually into the Gentile world proper.

It may be similar with us. God calls us to start our missionary
witness with those closest to us. Local people. Friends. Neighbours. Family members.
Even church people. Some people in our churches are quite practised at putting
on a good Christian mask when they have never committed themselves to Christ. I’m
not suggesting we go all judgmental, but I am saying that the place to start
talking about Christ and to demonstrating his love in word and deed is with our
nearest and dearest. That itself can be challenge enough for the time being!

4. Unconditional Love

Whenever parents approach me about a baptism or a thanksgiving service for
their children, the question usually comes up about a fee. How much does a
christening cost in your church, they ask. When I reply that it costs nothing,
they are often surprised.

Here, Jesus tells the apostles to preach the kingdom of God,
cure the sick and cast out demons, all without making a charge (verses 7-8). What’s
that about? Didn’t they need money, food, clothing and somewhere to live? Why
refuse to take payment?

I think it’s a sign that everything we offer in mission is
done so with unconditional love. We offer God’s love with no strings attached. We
do not make people jump through hoops to receive blessings, we simply offer the
Gospel proclaimed and demonstrated. Some churches offer social programmes to
the elderly or to children, but only after an evangelistic talk. You may be
hungry, but you can’t eat unless you listen to what we say. That isn’t
unconditional love. Offering God’s love without any conditions is a sign of the
Gospel. People may say there’s no such thing as a free lunch, but in Gospel terms,
there is, and that’s what we’re called to do in offering Christ to the world.

5. Simplicity
A dear friend of mine works for an evangelistic organisation called Through Faith Missions. This group
is best known for a series of missions called ‘The Walk of a Thousand Men’. With
a particular concern for reaching men with the Gospel, they recruit hundreds of
men to walk throughout a county or a region, sharing the Good News. They sleep
on church floors and move from place to place with their rucksacks. They are
only allowed to bring a very limited amount of cash with them on the missions,
and at one stage (I’m not sure if this is still the case) didn’t allow the men
to bring a mobile phone or credit card with them. It’s their interpretation of
what Jesus says in this passage:

Take no gold, or silver, or copper in your belts, no bag for
your journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a staff; for labourers deserve
their food. (Verses 9-10)

The point is one of simplicity, of simple faith in Christ to
meet all needs. And Christ does. In fact, despite the rigorous amount of
physical exercise on these missions and the dependence on others (especially local
Christians) to feed them, several men have reported putting on weight during
the missions!

Jesus is reminding his apostles and us that mission is a
simple thing. It doesn’t require a huge budget in the normal run of things
(although I am involved in one such project, re:fresh08,
right now). Sometimes we see the big churches with lots of money, staff and
ideas, or we look at the big missions or the well-known Christians and feel
discouraged. We think, that’s all way beyond us, we don’t have a hope. Jesus says
otherwise. He kick-started his apostles into mission without money, food or
clothing. It just requires a willingness to go in the name of Jesus, to love people
in his name, and to love them enough to talk about him. Any disciple of Jesus
can do that. At heart, the mission of Jesus is simple.

6. God Prepares the
Way
Mike Breen, an Anglican vicar now working in the States, used to tell a story
about when he was a vicar in Brixton. The parish had a worship band leading the
music on Sundays, and one day Breen was in his back garden one Saturday when
the oik of a teenager next door called out to him, ‘Oi vicar! I hear you’ve got
a band at your church. I play guitar. Can I join?’

This posed a problem. The parish had a strict policy that
only committed Christians could play in the band, because they had the holy
task of leading worship. But what could Mike Breen say? He said, ‘Bring your
guitar tomorrow morning.’

He took him along, introduced him to the band and said, ‘Here’s
your new guitarist.’ He made him stand at the back, where no one in the
congregation could see him. The lad became a regular in the band.

Breen left that parish, but returned a few years later to
take some special services. Guess who was leading the band, having become a
Christian? He was about to go to university to study music.

Jesus says,

Whatever town or village you enter, find out who in it is
worthy, and stay there until you leave. As you enter the house, greet it. If
the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let
your peace return to you. If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your
words, shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town.
(Verses 11-14)

The point is a simple one: God goes ahead of us, working in
people’s hearts. We discover that when we find who is responsive to our message
of peace. Our job is not to initiate: it is to join in with what God is already
doing. If there is resistance, it may be legitimate to move on to someone or
somewhere else. For God always makes the first move in salvation, we don’t. So
when we find there is a positive reception, that shows us where to concentrate
our efforts.

Conclusion
I could go on, ploughing through Jesus’ teaching and example on mission. But I’ve
given you half a dozen bullet points to ponder, and I think there is much here
to encourage us that while mission seems daunting in the way the church has
often presented it, with Jesus mission is Mission Possible.

Henry Neufeld has raised this question here. He connects
ancient traditional practices of ordination connected to more Catholic
understandings of the apostolic succession with charismatic claims (currently
being popularised again by Todd Bentley)
that there is such a thing as a ‘transferable anointing’ of the Holy Spirit.

NOTES
This subject seems to raise the issue of the ‘general’ and ‘manifest’ presence
of the Holy Spirit – there seems to be a link between charismatics/Pentecostals
and catholic Christians here. As charismatics speak of the manifest presence,
so Catholics (and others, Methodists included) invoke at ordination ‘Veni
Sancte Spiritus’ (‘Come, Holy Spirit’) prayers. Those who argue that the Spirit
is always present and doesn’t need to be ‘invited’ fall somewhere in the middle
of these two wings.

A similar charismatic/sacramentalist near parallel can be
found in the related issue of the transferable anointing. Both (but
particularly catholic Christians) invoke an ‘ex opere operato’ (‘by the work
worked’) approach. Where this is not invoked, someone’s faith is criticised if
nothing obvious happens to him or her, although Catholics will assume something
objectively did happen. Rarely does the person doing the imparting suffer
criticism. If nothing has obviously happened, then the charismatic/Pentecostal
temptation is to force it or make it look like something has happened – hence
the phenomenon of those preachers who blatantly push those seeking prayer, to
make it appear as if they have fallen under the power of the Spirit. This
applies to laying on of hands (for anointing or ordination) and to healing and
impartation of spiritual power. Again, those who believe that for the Spirit to
be imparted requires faith fall somewhere in the middle, as do those who
believe that the sacraments are only effective when there is justifying faith
present in response to divine grace.

And you might also need to tease out whether something
spiritually unhealthy can be passed on. This seems to be the fear of Diane R
in her comments on Henry’s post, and hence her concern about occult
overtones. Would this be an unholy example of ex opere operato? If it were,
would Christians be immune to it by virtue of the Holy Spirit’s indwelling
presence, or would we be as vulnerable as others would? Certainly the Vineyard
tradition under John Wimber taught that Christians could be ‘demonised’ (Wimber
never liked the word ‘possessed’) on the basis that Jesus referred to the
‘daughter of Abraham’ who had been bound by demons. The question of how and to
what extent we can be influenced by evil, or infested with it, is a thorny one.
Many would agree that the open embrace of sin is a clear doorway. Others argue
that we can be affected by the actions of family members, particularly in
previous generations. I cannot offer a resolution here, only a brief suggestion
that whether this can happen or not, the Christian inheritance is as described
in 1 John: ‘Greater is the one who is in you than the one who is in the world.’

So there are some unusual alliances around, and most likely
both wings of the theological spectrum would be horrified at the suggestion! However,
the similarities are plain. Contemporary charismatics and Pentecostals who
speak about ‘the anointing’ are in a similar situation to people with whom they
might not be comfortable. It is an area of departure from traditional
evangelicalism. That is not to say it is wrong, but it is to draw attention to
an interesting piece of ecumenical irony.

The notion of apostolic succession also needs teasing out.
Is it about the impartation of the Spirit for ministry? That’s mainly what
Peter Kirk seems to be examining in his
post. A more classically evangelical view would concentrate on issues such
as succession in the apostles’ doctrine. And that is why what John Wesley did,
as an Anglican priest, in ordaining (if that is indeed what he
did), was legitimate.

However, the great value of Peter’s post is that he points
out several texts where there is a clear impartation. I don’t see how anyone
can argue against the scriptural examples of the laying on of hands that leads
to the reception of the Holy Spirit. It is legitimate to ask whether it is
automatic (with which a catholic spirituality would sympathise, if a
sacramental act has been appropriately carried out) or whether it requires
faith (a more Protestant view). The former stresses grace, the latter faith.
The former risks making grace into a commodity, the latter risks making faith
into a good work. Surely, we need a balance between God taking the initiative
in prevenient grace, and the need for response with the empty hands of faith.

How has this played out for me? Did I feel anything at my
ordination? No. Just a relief that all the testing, examining, interrogation
and suspicion was over. My ordination Bible contains a little adhesive plate
that confirms I was ordained; it really might just as well be little more than
a Sunday School prize. Other friends have talked about wonderful spiritual
experiences at ordination (not least our next door neighbour, who was ordained
deacon in the Church of England last year). But for me, nothing. I came to the
service expecting and hoping, but I was up at the front quickly for the laying
of hands, then it was all over and I was back to my pew. So this discussion is
rather theoretical for me when it comes to ordination. I rely not on an
experience but on a sense of call over a prolonged period of time that was
confirmed by the church. It would have been nice to have the experience, but it
never came. I hope my blogging friend Pam
has a better experience in a few weeks’ time!

On the other hand, people have laid hands on me for other
reasons, and I have experienced something. It has rarely been as dramatic as
others have had, but I have known some indication of the divine presence. I
have been tempted to think that my experience like this in contrast to
ordination was about Low Church spirituality, but equally I have been very
conscious of God at Holy Communion, so I don’t think that explanation holds. It
may be much more to do with the sovereignty of God, and God’s work in relating
to my particular personality.

Where have I reached in these jumbled thoughts? There is a
strange alliance between different ends of the theological spectrum. Perhaps
they can learn from each other, and from those who criticise both ends from
somewhere in the middle. It seems safe to assume that the Holy Spirit can be
imparted by the laying on of hands; however, in my opinion, that is a matter of
both divine grace and human faith. I see no reason to assume it is an automatic
process, or to blame those who do not have the requisite experience.

Yesterday I met a friend who had been to the ‘Florida
Outpouring’. He said there were a lot of hurdles to cross and filters to take
down, but God was at work. He was offended by the emphasis on money, but also
went to the local Episcopalian church’s 8 am Sunday communion, where the same
(to British ears) upfront, blunt attitude to finance persisted. There were many
humanly induced manifestations to discount, and some wobbly theology. But there
was an atmosphere of revival, and much of the remarkable works of God he
witnessed happened in the worship, way before Todd
Bentley came on to speak.

A lot of the emphasis was decidedly not cerebral, he said. Two
lines of a worship song repeated over and over again; an emphasis on emotional
engagement with God that would offend those who wanted to use the intellect. To
engage with God required laying aside one’s filters; approaching critically
left him more distant from God.

But his wife asked him who he would have accepted as a
legitimate agent of ‘revival’: what would he have made of John the Baptist?
Would he not have preferred a high priest? Why does God choose such people? To
ensure the glory goes to him, not to clever and competent human beings.

How would I respond to all this? It seems there is a growing
case for separating out the good God is doing at Lakeland (although not as much
as is claimed) from the personalities and styles that are driving it. I think
there remains much to be concerned about regarding the manner and sometimes the
content of Todd Bentley’s approach; however, God is gracious and uses all sorts
of people (even me). Paul in Philippians was glad when the Gospel was preached
for whatever motive. That does not remove the need for discernment. We need to
plot a course that receives what God is doing, while not falling for
questionable stuff. We need to cultivate the tightrope-like art of being open
and discerning, rather than being either gullible or negative. In doing that,
we avoid the aggressive confrontational approaches employed by some supporters
of the for and against camps on this issue. (Some blog comments on both sides
of the debate have been horrendous – less so on this blog, thankfully.) We also
need to do this on grounds of pastoral care for those who might get damaged.

I’m not sure that I want to choose between my emotions and
experience on the one hand and my intellect on the other in my engagement with
God. Just so long as I don’t use my intellect as a defence mechanism, I don’t
see a problem biblically. It can be used to explore the wonder of God, and thus
to worship more. I want to worship God with heart, soul, mind and strength. Having
said that, there is a lot to be said about worship styles and personality types.
But I don’t believe the Holy Spirit excludes people of certain personality
types.

Finally, there is the ‘John the Baptist’ issue above.
However, this illustration is predicated on the assumption that the concern
with Bentley is over weirdness. It is, but it is much more. God does choose
people we wouldn’t expect. That can be shocking. Equally, gifted individuals
can do things that seem godly, but it is by pure talent alone. The old gag is
that if the Holy Spirit were withdrawn from the church, ninety-five per cent of
church life would continue as before. But the concerns about Bentley aren’t
simply about strangeness in opposition to respectable competence: they are
about holiness. And just as ‘conventional’ people can achieve what looks good
by use of personal gifts, it is also possible to achieve or manufacture things
by force of personality. Again, God uses imperfect people; however, some of
Bentley’s methods cannot be defended purely on the grounds of their unusual
style.

I am delighted that my friend and his wife met with God at
Lakeland, whatever reservations I have. The word that remains with me is
‘discernment’, and this is not simply in a sense of discerning between good and
evil spirits. Both may be mixed up in this. We are in the midst of a field full
of wheat and tares, and God is still waiting for the harvest.

(Sorry if this is all a bit jumbled up, I’ve been typing
bits here and there in between various responsibilities over 24 hours.)

Matthew
9:9-13, 18-26

Introduction
You may know the old story about the two ministers of different denominations
who were arguing about whose tradition was closest to that of Jesus and the
Bible. After trading arguments about baptism, the sacraments, ordination and
other hot topics, one played the trump card:

‘You do it in your way, and I’ll do it in his.’

It can be a joke to suggest we are the ones who truly
minister like Jesus. Early on in my ministry, a church couple had twins and
asked me to baptise them. At the service, I preached on the story of Jesus’
baptism. I made a joke about John the Baptist and Jesus the Methodist, only to
discover over lunch afterwards that several relatives were – yes, you guessed –
Baptists.

Jesus’ ministry is so different from ours. We train
ministers for three years and expect them to minister for thirty; Jesus trained
for thirty years and ministered for three. We may move from one appointment to
another, but wherever we go there is a manse or a parsonage; the Son of Man had
nowhere to lay his head.

So it’s sobering to ask questions about Jesus’ ministry. We
need to test ourselves by it. One blog I follow is called Jesus-Shaped Spirituality, because
if we study Jesus, that study should shape our discipleship.

And thus to today’s Gospel reading. What do we see of Jesus’
ministry here that should shape our discipleship?

1. Who?
The first question that struck me was a ‘Who?’ question. Who are the people to
whom Jesus ministers? We kick off with Matthew, a tax collector. There are at
least two things wrong with Matthew in the eyes of good first century Jews.
Firstly, he was an agent of the hated Roman occupying forces, collecting money
for them. Secondly, he was almost certainly a greedy person who exploited
ordinary people, including the poor. He would have done this, because Rome
simply gave tax collectors a budget to collect in the year. They had to raise
their own living over and above that, and were left to levy taxes both to meet
their employer’s target and to fund whatever standard of living they desired
for themselves. It was easy to fall into temptation.

Should Jesus be having anything to do with Matthew? Not in
the eyes of his people. Matthew is a greedy traitor. The Sun would start up a
campaign against his type. There would be a lynch mob waiting, were it not for
the Roman soldiers protecting the cash flow. Yet Jesus says, Matthew, come
here, I want you to follow me. Not only that, he has dinner at Matthew’s home, as
the guest of honour. He associates with Matthew’s friends, who have little
concern for righteousness. Surely bad company corrupts character? No. Jesus
enjoys their company, without being tainted.

Then you have the little girl who dies. Children were of low
social rank in a society that valued elders. Girls were worth far less than boys
were. The boys might get an education of sorts, but not the girls. If the
synagogue ruler had died, one could understand the concern – but his daughter? Not
likely. Yet to Jesus, she is valuable and precious.

Worse than that, he enters her bedroom where her dead body
is lying. More contamination! A good Jew wasn’t supposed to have this kind of
contact with a dead body. It made for ritual uncleanness. Yet he takes her by
the hand. This cannot be a man of God: he doesn’t obey the rules! He touches
dead bodies! Stay away, before he contaminates you!

And we have the woman with the twelve-year history of
haemorrhages. She touches the fringe of Jesus’ garment. ‘Fringe’ makes it sound
like Jesus dresses in traditional Jewish manner, with tassels on the four
corners of his outer garment, as prescribed by Numbers and Deuteronomy. He has
all the appearance of a good Jewish man.

But how good a Jewish man is he if he does not go off to the
priest for cleansing the moment he realises that a woman who is passing blood
(and therefore is ritually unclean) has touched him? He should have recoiled at
the thought of her touching him, but his reaction is the opposite. Instead of
revulsion, we hear words of tenderness and compassion: ‘Take heart, daughter;
your faith has made you well’ (verse 22).

Jesus, then, embraces all the wrong people: all the people
that good, faithful religious types would tell us to avoid or despise for our
own good. Not Jesus. He is good news in the flesh. Where might we go to hang
out with the kind of people to whom Jesus ministered? An American church leader
named David
Fitch recently made some
suggestions. If I paraphrase him into British English, here are some of his
ideas:

1. Go to the hospital. The poor – and poor in spirit – are
always there. Maybe you could shadow a chaplain.

2. Look for where houses are being sold after a bank or
building society repossession. You will find hurting people there.

3. Where do the police spend a lot of their time? They know
the trouble spots. It may even be possible to ride with them.

4. Be a regular at the local pub. There may well be lonely
people there who are searching for something in life.

5. Go to playgroups and pre-schools. There will be one mum
who is left out, a struggling lone parent, somebody having difficulties with a
troublesome child.

6. This is the one I really hate – go to McDonald’s! Whatever
your image of McDonald’s – slimy food eaten by noisy hoodies, perhaps – Fitch
suggests you hang out at one first thing in the morning. There is often a
breakfast club of men getting a bite to eat on their way to work.

7. This one could be peculiarly North American – the hockey
rink (although we do have the Chelmsford
Chieftains!). If a Christian joined a sports club and got involved in
coaching the youngsters, what example would it set if that were done without
rudeness or swearing, by treating the kids with dignity and by offering a
positive direction in life?

8. Residential homes and care centres for the elderly can be
a place to meet people who feel they are forgotten, or who have been dumped
there by their families. Of course, they haven’t all been treated like that,
but there may be low self-esteem as well as serious medical conditions.

9. Organisations that serve the homeless – and in Chelmsford
we have CHESS. What can we
offer to people whose lives have taken a turn for the worse following the
breakdown of relationships and addiction to alcohol or other drugs in order to
mask personal pain?

10. How easy or difficult is it to get to know our
neighbours? If it is difficult, Fitch suggests being subversive: why not sell
your lawnmower, so that you need to borrow one? Take time to be present in the
neighbourhood and build relationships.

So the ‘Who?’ question has become a ‘Where?’ question. To
meet the kind of people today that Jesus ministered to, we need to go to
certain places. They may not be typical Christian hangout venues, but they are
most likely the kind of locations Jesus would frequent today. Maybe he does
anyway, by his Spirit.

2. How?
Do you ever imagine yourself as a particular character in a Bible story? It is
a great spiritual discipline to practise, for gaining insight into the
Scriptures. In this passage, I can imagine to some extent how the synagogue
ruler must have felt. He has come with a desperate plea about his dead or dying
daughter (depending on which Gospel account you read – Matthew seems to summarise
Mark and take out detail). If I wanted Jesus to come quickly and save my
daughter, how would I feel when Jesus is delayed by the woman with the
haemorrhages? My anxiety and fear levels would shoot up through the roof! ‘Come
on Jesus, time is of the essence! Can’t you come back and heal her later?’

Or look at the same point another way. Look at it from
Jesus’ perspective. He has two desperate needs, but he manages to deal with
both of them. I thought men weren’t supposed to be able to multi-task! But Jesus
seems to manage it! If a woman asks me to do something and before I’ve done it
is onto making the next request and perhaps a third one too, then I can tell
you, I get stressed! ‘I’m a man,’ I say, ‘I can only do one thing at a time!’

Time is what Jesus has. Time is what Jesus gives to people.
He gives it to Matthew and his disreputable friends – a whole evening at dinner
with them. In the middle of pressure to save the synagogue ruler’s daughter, he
gives the haemorrhaging woman the gift of time.

Time is what we say we don’t have today. We have so-called
labour-saving devices, but they exist so that we may cram more things into our
daily ration of twenty-four hours.

Time is what I was taught not to have for people in pastoral
care. At college, I was told to visit five people every afternoon and give them
twenty minutes each. That’s hardly enough time to get your coat off and the
kettle on! Time is what doesn’t happen when you glad-hand everyone and
concentrate on no one. You may speak to everybody, but you may do good for
nobody.

Why time? Because in his use of time, Jesus gives dignity to
people who are treated as worthless by their society. In the gift of time,
Jesus can engage in spiritual listening. By ‘spiritual listening’ I mean what
some people have called ‘double listening’ – listening to the person and to
God, and then acting accordingly. If you’re going to engage in double listening
both to the person and to God, then that takes a considerable amount of
deliberate attention. You can’t just shake someone’s hand and be done with
them.

But the gift of time isn’t just happening right in the
middle of a human mêlée for Jesus. This gift of time to practise double listening
to the person and to his Father can happen, because he has already given time
over to listening to God and being tuned in. Right in the middle of his busy
life is the time out. In order to engage, he must also withdraw. Time for
engagement with people must be matched by time deliberately spent with God in
prayer and the Scriptures.

How we do it, where we do it and how long for may not be the
same as Jesus. There aren’t too many mountains and hills in Springfield! That
we need to do it, however, can hardly be in dispute.

Too often, we are afflicted by the curse of busy-ness in
today’s world, and the church falls for the lie, too. The busier you are, the
better you are. The more good actions you can accumulate, the better person you
must be.

Not so. Not so in Jesus’ example. When some would have urged
him to press the flesh of as many people as possible, like a politician on the
election trail, Jesus didn’t do that. In the middle of that hurly-burly, he had
time for people. And he did so, because he had already given time to his
Father, and then committed to go to the places where those least likely to meet
the approval of the religious tastemakers hung out.

These simple and challenging practises will be needed if we
are to have a ministry like that of Jesus. We shall go outside our usual church
circles, to meet the unlikeliest of people. We shall have a ministry of time
that contrasts our frantic culture, by giving quality time to God and to those
outsiders. In these ways, we make room for the grace of God to bring his love
to surprising people in surprising ways.

Matthew
9:9-13, 18-26

Introduction
You may know the old story about the two ministers of different denominations
who were arguing about whose tradition was closest to that of Jesus and the
Bible. After trading arguments about baptism, the sacraments, ordination and
other hot topics, one played the trump card:

‘You do it in your way, and I’ll do it in his.’

It can be a joke to suggest we are the ones who truly
minister like Jesus. Early on in my ministry, a church couple had twins and
asked me to baptise them. At the service, I preached on the story of Jesus’
baptism. I made a joke about John the Baptist and Jesus the Methodist, only to
discover over lunch afterwards that several relatives were – yes, you guessed –
Baptists.

Jesus’ ministry is so different from ours. We train
ministers for three years and expect them to minister for thirty; Jesus trained
for thirty years and ministered for three. We may move from one appointment to
another, but wherever we go there is a manse or a parsonage; the Son of Man had
nowhere to lay his head.

So it’s sobering to ask questions about Jesus’ ministry. We
need to test ourselves by it. One blog I follow is called Jesus-Shaped Spirituality, because
if we study Jesus, that study should shape our discipleship.

And thus to today’s Gospel reading. What do we see of Jesus’
ministry here that should shape our discipleship?

1. Who?
The first question that struck me was a ‘Who?’ question. Who are the people to
whom Jesus ministers? We kick off with Matthew, a tax collector. There are at
least two things wrong with Matthew in the eyes of good first century Jews.
Firstly, he was an agent of the hated Roman occupying forces, collecting money
for them. Secondly, he was almost certainly a greedy person who exploited
ordinary people, including the poor. He would have done this, because Rome
simply gave tax collectors a budget to collect in the year. They had to raise
their own living over and above that, and were left to levy taxes both to meet
their employer’s target and to fund whatever standard of living they desired
for themselves. It was easy to fall into temptation.

Should Jesus be having anything to do with Matthew? Not in
the eyes of his people. Matthew is a greedy traitor. The Sun would start up a
campaign against his type. There would be a lynch mob waiting, were it not for
the Roman soldiers protecting the cash flow. Yet Jesus says, Matthew, come
here, I want you to follow me. Not only that, he has dinner at Matthew’s home, as
the guest of honour. He associates with Matthew’s friends, who have little
concern for righteousness. Surely bad company corrupts character? No. Jesus
enjoys their company, without being tainted.

Then you have the little girl who dies. Children were of low
social rank in a society that valued elders. Girls were worth far less than boys
were. The boys might get an education of sorts, but not the girls. If the
synagogue ruler had died, one could understand the concern – but his daughter? Not
likely. Yet to Jesus, she is valuable and precious.

Worse than that, he enters her bedroom where her dead body
is lying. More contamination! A good Jew wasn’t supposed to have this kind of
contact with a dead body. It made for ritual uncleanness. Yet he takes her by
the hand. This cannot be a man of God: he doesn’t obey the rules! He touches
dead bodies! Stay away, before he contaminates you!

And we have the woman with the twelve-year history of
haemorrhages. She touches the fringe of Jesus’ garment. ‘Fringe’ makes it sound
like Jesus dresses in traditional Jewish manner, with tassels on the four
corners of his outer garment, as prescribed by Numbers and Deuteronomy. He has
all the appearance of a good Jewish man.

But how good a Jewish man is he if he does not go off to the
priest for cleansing the moment he realises that a woman who is passing blood
(and therefore is ritually unclean) has touched him? He should have recoiled at
the thought of her touching him, but his reaction is the opposite. Instead of
revulsion, we hear words of tenderness and compassion: ‘Take heart, daughter;
your faith has made you well’ (verse 22).

Jesus, then, embraces all the wrong people: all the people
that good, faithful religious types would tell us to avoid or despise for our
own good. Not Jesus. He is good news in the flesh. Where might we go to hang
out with the kind of people to whom Jesus ministered? An American church leader
named David
Fitch recently made some
suggestions. If I paraphrase him into British English, here are some of his
ideas:

1. Go to the hospital. The poor – and poor in spirit – are
always there. Maybe you could shadow a chaplain.

2. Look for where houses are being sold after a bank or
building society repossession. You will find hurting people there.

3. Where do the police spend a lot of their time? They know
the trouble spots. It may even be possible to ride with them.

4. Be a regular at the local pub. There may well be lonely
people there who are searching for something in life.

5. Go to playgroups and pre-schools. There will be one mum
who is left out, a struggling lone parent, somebody having difficulties with a
troublesome child.

6. This is the one I really hate – go to McDonald’s! Whatever
your image of McDonald’s – slimy food eaten by noisy hoodies, perhaps – Fitch
suggests you hang out at one first thing in the morning. There is often a
breakfast club of men getting a bite to eat on their way to work.

7. This one could be peculiarly North American – the hockey
rink (although we do have the Chelmsford
Chieftains!). If a Christian joined a sports club and got involved in
coaching the youngsters, what example would it set if that were done without
rudeness or swearing, by treating the kids with dignity and by offering a
positive direction in life?

8. Residential homes and care centres for the elderly can be
a place to meet people who feel they are forgotten, or who have been dumped
there by their families. Of course, they haven’t all been treated like that,
but there may be low self-esteem as well as serious medical conditions.

9. Organisations that serve the homeless – and in Chelmsford
we have CHESS. What can we
offer to people whose lives have taken a turn for the worse following the
breakdown of relationships and addiction to alcohol or other drugs in order to
mask personal pain?

10. How easy or difficult is it to get to know our
neighbours? If it is difficult, Fitch suggests being subversive: why not sell
your lawnmower, so that you need to borrow one? Take time to be present in the
neighbourhood and build relationships.

So the ‘Who?’ question has become a ‘Where?’ question. To
meet the kind of people today that Jesus ministered to, we need to go to
certain places. They may not be typical Christian hangout venues, but they are
most likely the kind of locations Jesus would frequent today. Maybe he does
anyway, by his Spirit.

2. How?
Do you ever imagine yourself as a particular character in a Bible story? It is
a great spiritual discipline to practise, for gaining insight into the
Scriptures. In this passage, I can imagine to some extent how the synagogue
ruler must have felt. He has come with a desperate plea about his dead or dying
daughter (depending on which Gospel account you read – Matthew seems to summarise
Mark and take out detail). If I wanted Jesus to come quickly and save my
daughter, how would I feel when Jesus is delayed by the woman with the
haemorrhages? My anxiety and fear levels would shoot up through the roof! ‘Come
on Jesus, time is of the essence! Can’t you come back and heal her later?’

Or look at the same point another way. Look at it from
Jesus’ perspective. He has two desperate needs, but he manages to deal with
both of them. I thought men weren’t supposed to be able to multi-task! But Jesus
seems to manage it! If a woman asks me to do something and before I’ve done it
is onto making the next request and perhaps a third one too, then I can tell
you, I get stressed! ‘I’m a man,’ I say, ‘I can only do one thing at a time!’

Time is what Jesus has. Time is what Jesus gives to people.
He gives it to Matthew and his disreputable friends – a whole evening at dinner
with them. In the middle of pressure to save the synagogue ruler’s daughter, he
gives the haemorrhaging woman the gift of time.

Time is what we say we don’t have today. We have so-called
labour-saving devices, but they exist so that we may cram more things into our
daily ration of twenty-four hours.

Time is what I was taught not to have for people in pastoral
care. At college, I was told to visit five people every afternoon and give them
twenty minutes each. That’s hardly enough time to get your coat off and the
kettle on! Time is what doesn’t happen when you glad-hand everyone and
concentrate on no one. You may speak to everybody, but you may do good for
nobody.

Why time? Because in his use of time, Jesus gives dignity to
people who are treated as worthless by their society. In the gift of time,
Jesus can engage in spiritual listening. By ‘spiritual listening’ I mean what
some people have called ‘double listening’ – listening to the person and to
God, and then acting accordingly. If you’re going to engage in double listening
both to the person and to God, then that takes a considerable amount of
deliberate attention. You can’t just shake someone’s hand and be done with
them.

But the gift of time isn’t just happening right in the
middle of a human mêlée for Jesus. This gift of time to practise double listening
to the person and to his Father can happen, because he has already given time
over to listening to God and being tuned in. Right in the middle of his busy
life is the time out. In order to engage, he must also withdraw. Time for
engagement with people must be matched by time deliberately spent with God in
prayer and the Scriptures.

How we do it, where we do it and how long for may not be the
same as Jesus. There aren’t too many mountains and hills in Springfield! That
we need to do it, however, can hardly be in dispute.

Too often, we are afflicted by the curse of busy-ness in
today’s world, and the church falls for the lie, too. The busier you are, the
better you are. The more good actions you can accumulate, the better person you
must be.

Not so. Not so in Jesus’ example. When some would have urged
him to press the flesh of as many people as possible, like a politician on the
election trail, Jesus didn’t do that. In the middle of that hurly-burly, he had
time for people. And he did so, because he had already given time to his
Father, and then committed to go to the places where those least likely to meet
the approval of the religious tastemakers hung out.

These simple and challenging practises will be needed if we
are to have a ministry like that of Jesus. We shall go outside our usual church
circles, to meet the unlikeliest of people. We shall have a ministry of time
that contrasts our frantic culture, by giving quality time to God and to those
outsiders. In these ways, we make room for the grace of God to bring his love
to surprising people in surprising ways.

Matthew
9:9-13, 18-26

Introduction
You may know the old story about the two ministers of different denominations
who were arguing about whose tradition was closest to that of Jesus and the
Bible. After trading arguments about baptism, the sacraments, ordination and
other hot topics, one played the trump card:

‘You do it in your way, and I’ll do it in his.’

It can be a joke to suggest we are the ones who truly
minister like Jesus. Early on in my ministry, a church couple had twins and
asked me to baptise them. At the service, I preached on the story of Jesus’
baptism. I made a joke about John the Baptist and Jesus the Methodist, only to
discover over lunch afterwards that several relatives were – yes, you guessed –
Baptists.

Jesus’ ministry is so different from ours. We train
ministers for three years and expect them to minister for thirty; Jesus trained
for thirty years and ministered for three. We may move from one appointment to
another, but wherever we go there is a manse or a parsonage; the Son of Man had
nowhere to lay his head.

So it’s sobering to ask questions about Jesus’ ministry. We
need to test ourselves by it. One blog I follow is called Jesus-Shaped Spirituality, because
if we study Jesus, that study should shape our discipleship.

And thus to today’s Gospel reading. What do we see of Jesus’
ministry here that should shape our discipleship?

1. Who?
The first question that struck me was a ‘Who?’ question. Who are the people to
whom Jesus ministers? We kick off with Matthew, a tax collector. There are at
least two things wrong with Matthew in the eyes of good first century Jews.
Firstly, he was an agent of the hated Roman occupying forces, collecting money
for them. Secondly, he was almost certainly a greedy person who exploited
ordinary people, including the poor. He would have done this, because Rome
simply gave tax collectors a budget to collect in the year. They had to raise
their own living over and above that, and were left to levy taxes both to meet
their employer’s target and to fund whatever standard of living they desired
for themselves. It was easy to fall into temptation.

Should Jesus be having anything to do with Matthew? Not in
the eyes of his people. Matthew is a greedy traitor. The Sun would start up a
campaign against his type. There would be a lynch mob waiting, were it not for
the Roman soldiers protecting the cash flow. Yet Jesus says, Matthew, come
here, I want you to follow me. Not only that, he has dinner at Matthew’s home, as
the guest of honour. He associates with Matthew’s friends, who have little
concern for righteousness. Surely bad company corrupts character? No. Jesus
enjoys their company, without being tainted.

Then you have the little girl who dies. Children were of low
social rank in a society that valued elders. Girls were worth far less than boys
were. The boys might get an education of sorts, but not the girls. If the
synagogue ruler had died, one could understand the concern – but his daughter? Not
likely. Yet to Jesus, she is valuable and precious.

Worse than that, he enters her bedroom where her dead body
is lying. More contamination! A good Jew wasn’t supposed to have this kind of
contact with a dead body. It made for ritual uncleanness. Yet he takes her by
the hand. This cannot be a man of God: he doesn’t obey the rules! He touches
dead bodies! Stay away, before he contaminates you!

And we have the woman with the twelve-year history of
haemorrhages. She touches the fringe of Jesus’ garment. ‘Fringe’ makes it sound
like Jesus dresses in traditional Jewish manner, with tassels on the four
corners of his outer garment, as prescribed by Numbers and Deuteronomy. He has
all the appearance of a good Jewish man.

But how good a Jewish man is he if he does not go off to the
priest for cleansing the moment he realises that a woman who is passing blood
(and therefore is ritually unclean) has touched him? He should have recoiled at
the thought of her touching him, but his reaction is the opposite. Instead of
revulsion, we hear words of tenderness and compassion: ‘Take heart, daughter;
your faith has made you well’ (verse 22).

Jesus, then, embraces all the wrong people: all the people
that good, faithful religious types would tell us to avoid or despise for our
own good. Not Jesus. He is good news in the flesh. Where might we go to hang
out with the kind of people to whom Jesus ministered? An American church leader
named David
Fitch recently made some
suggestions. If I paraphrase him into British English, here are some of his
ideas:

1. Go to the hospital. The poor – and poor in spirit – are
always there. Maybe you could shadow a chaplain.

2. Look for where houses are being sold after a bank or
building society repossession. You will find hurting people there.

3. Where do the police spend a lot of their time? They know
the trouble spots. It may even be possible to ride with them.

4. Be a regular at the local pub. There may well be lonely
people there who are searching for something in life.

5. Go to playgroups and pre-schools. There will be one mum
who is left out, a struggling lone parent, somebody having difficulties with a
troublesome child.

6. This is the one I really hate – go to McDonald’s! Whatever
your image of McDonald’s – slimy food eaten by noisy hoodies, perhaps – Fitch
suggests you hang out at one first thing in the morning. There is often a
breakfast club of men getting a bite to eat on their way to work.

7. This one could be peculiarly North American – the hockey
rink (although we do have the Chelmsford
Chieftains!). If a Christian joined a sports club and got involved in
coaching the youngsters, what example would it set if that were done without
rudeness or swearing, by treating the kids with dignity and by offering a
positive direction in life?

8. Residential homes and care centres for the elderly can be
a place to meet people who feel they are forgotten, or who have been dumped
there by their families. Of course, they haven’t all been treated like that,
but there may be low self-esteem as well as serious medical conditions.

9. Organisations that serve the homeless – and in Chelmsford
we have CHESS. What can we
offer to people whose lives have taken a turn for the worse following the
breakdown of relationships and addiction to alcohol or other drugs in order to
mask personal pain?

10. How easy or difficult is it to get to know our
neighbours? If it is difficult, Fitch suggests being subversive: why not sell
your lawnmower, so that you need to borrow one? Take time to be present in the
neighbourhood and build relationships.

So the ‘Who?’ question has become a ‘Where?’ question. To
meet the kind of people today that Jesus ministered to, we need to go to
certain places. They may not be typical Christian hangout venues, but they are
most likely the kind of locations Jesus would frequent today. Maybe he does
anyway, by his Spirit.

2. How?
Do you ever imagine yourself as a particular character in a Bible story? It is
a great spiritual discipline to practise, for gaining insight into the
Scriptures. In this passage, I can imagine to some extent how the synagogue
ruler must have felt. He has come with a desperate plea about his dead or dying
daughter (depending on which Gospel account you read – Matthew seems to summarise
Mark and take out detail). If I wanted Jesus to come quickly and save my
daughter, how would I feel when Jesus is delayed by the woman with the
haemorrhages? My anxiety and fear levels would shoot up through the roof! ‘Come
on Jesus, time is of the essence! Can’t you come back and heal her later?’

Or look at the same point another way. Look at it from
Jesus’ perspective. He has two desperate needs, but he manages to deal with
both of them. I thought men weren’t supposed to be able to multi-task! But Jesus
seems to manage it! If a woman asks me to do something and before I’ve done it
is onto making the next request and perhaps a third one too, then I can tell
you, I get stressed! ‘I’m a man,’ I say, ‘I can only do one thing at a time!’

Time is what Jesus has. Time is what Jesus gives to people.
He gives it to Matthew and his disreputable friends – a whole evening at dinner
with them. In the middle of pressure to save the synagogue ruler’s daughter, he
gives the haemorrhaging woman the gift of time.

Time is what we say we don’t have today. We have so-called
labour-saving devices, but they exist so that we may cram more things into our
daily ration of twenty-four hours.

Time is what I was taught not to have for people in pastoral
care. At college, I was told to visit five people every afternoon and give them
twenty minutes each. That’s hardly enough time to get your coat off and the
kettle on! Time is what doesn’t happen when you glad-hand everyone and
concentrate on no one. You may speak to everybody, but you may do good for
nobody.

Why time? Because in his use of time, Jesus gives dignity to
people who are treated as worthless by their society. In the gift of time,
Jesus can engage in spiritual listening. By ‘spiritual listening’ I mean what
some people have called ‘double listening’ – listening to the person and to
God, and then acting accordingly. If you’re going to engage in double listening
both to the person and to God, then that takes a considerable amount of
deliberate attention. You can’t just shake someone’s hand and be done with
them.

But the gift of time isn’t just happening right in the
middle of a human mêlée for Jesus. This gift of time to practise double listening
to the person and to his Father can happen, because he has already given time
over to listening to God and being tuned in. Right in the middle of his busy
life is the time out. In order to engage, he must also withdraw. Time for
engagement with people must be matched by time deliberately spent with God in
prayer and the Scriptures.

How we do it, where we do it and how long for may not be the
same as Jesus. There aren’t too many mountains and hills in Springfield! That
we need to do it, however, can hardly be in dispute.

Too often, we are afflicted by the curse of busy-ness in
today’s world, and the church falls for the lie, too. The busier you are, the
better you are. The more good actions you can accumulate, the better person you
must be.

Not so. Not so in Jesus’ example. When some would have urged
him to press the flesh of as many people as possible, like a politician on the
election trail, Jesus didn’t do that. In the middle of that hurly-burly, he had
time for people. And he did so, because he had already given time to his
Father, and then committed to go to the places where those least likely to meet
the approval of the religious tastemakers hung out.

These simple and challenging practises will be needed if we
are to have a ministry like that of Jesus. We shall go outside our usual church
circles, to meet the unlikeliest of people. We shall have a ministry of time
that contrasts our frantic culture, by giving quality time to God and to those
outsiders. In these ways, we make room for the grace of God to bring his love
to surprising people in surprising ways.

I remain nervous about this whole phenomenon. Much of my upcoming opinions (and any revisions) may hang on the meeting I hope to have with an acquaintance whose wife has been to Lakeland. And having failed to make the ‘impartation meeting’ at Meadgate Church last Friday night, I shall bat a meeting next Monday lunch-time where my vicar friend from that church will be present. We hope to chat. Readers of my posts on Bentley will have realised I have significant reservations, not least in the areas of verified healings (see especially Bene Diction‘s comment today in my post ‘Healing, Verification and Resurrection‘) and what appears to be a violent adaptation of the laying on of hands.

Nevertheless, I am not ruling out the possibility that God may well be at work in this whole experience, just as he is at work in messy churches all over the world. If God is at work, I do not want to oppose the Holy Spirit, for Scripture, experience and church history all teach me this important lesson: the powerful presence of God is not automatically a sign of the divine imprimatur on particular human beings. In the Bible, one might cite characters such as King Saul. In church history, John Wesley thought at first that when people fell to the floor during his preaching, it was vindication of his Arminian theology over the Calvinists. He had to learn that God had a different agenda. Not that I’m against Wesley, you understand! In personal experience, I have seen remarkable things attached to flaky people (I’m saying no more).

One thing I’d like to float for discussion is the question of Bentley and what in the UK we would call working class culture. North America can protest it doesn’t have a class system, it just doesn’t have anything so ancient as ours. North American friends, you can think in terms of blue collar culture. I raise this, because I have noticed people comment on the number of poorer people who have been attending the Lakeland meetings. Given the inability – at least in this country – to reach such peoples ever since the Industrial Revolution, this fact should make us sit up and take notice. We have seen Catholics and Anglo-Catholics do better in inner city areas; we have heard of Pentecostal fruitfulness in South American favelas; but a white, western evangelical-charismatic movement among poorer people is less common.

I have this in mind, because I grew up in an urban part of north London. This year, it has been badly affected by the epidemic of teenagers being stabbed in London. Three had been stabbed to death in the first three months of 2008. I may have a couple of degrees to my name and be educated into a middle class profession, but I am more like ‘local lad made good’. People like those among whom I grew up need the Gospel.

With this in mind, let’s at least give house room to some of Bentley’s approach. The tattoos are an obvious example: he looks like a biker, and is it really right to read certain prescriptions from the Torah off the page as condemning something equivalent? I’m not sure. I don’t like tattoos, but I put that down to personal taste.

Then there’s the language. ‘Bam!’ as someone is apparently overwhelmed by the Holy Spirit. It sounds like something out of Batman, but I can remember middle-class charismatics twenty or thirty years ago talking about being ‘zapped’ by the Holy Spirit. Batman versus Star Wars/Star Trek: what’s the difference? It’s not my preferred expression, but I have nothing against it. Most people aren’t going to use long theological words like I do.

The same could be said of the regular slogan he has, inviting people for prayer ministry or to visit Lakeland: ‘Come and get some’. It sounds like a football hooligan to me, but again, it could just be cultural. We are good at ‘nice’ invitations in our respectable churches; if someone gives an invitation in the language of the street, we shouldn’t dismiss it. We may well be right to raise questions about an emphasis on getting, because it needs to be accompanied by a consequent movement of giving and serving, and that element is by no means clear in the meetings.

And that point beggars the whole use of the word ‘revival’. I’m aware the word is used differently on each side of the Atlantic – we are, as Winston Churchill said, two nations separated by a common language. (Three, counting Bentley’s native Canada.) To the British Christian, a revival is about the church coming back to her purposes, and many people finding faith in Christ for the first time. It is thus intrinsically linked to repentance. Much criticism of Bentley is around the fact that he rarely seems to mention repentance. In North America, a revival can mean a series of meetings in a church, and this is how the Lakeland story began – with five nights of meetings.

Moreover, I hear Bentley distinctly referring to this as a ‘healing revival’. To my ears, that sounds like a claim that we are seeing a major re-emergence of the healing ministry here. However, even this can’t be completely divorced from other uses of the word ‘revival’, because Bentley clearly has a worldwide, if not almost apocalyptic, vision for what has begun in Florida. All in all, then, I really wish he wouldn’t use the word – especially as it is hard to gauge how big or influential this movement is, given its fast dissemination via TV and the Internet. It’s too soon to speak of a revival as anything more than a lot of meetings.

As I say, none of this is to offset or downplay my concerns. It is to put down a marker about something positive. It would be unfair to criticise Bentley for loose use of words, and if he does have a gift for reaching blue collar workers, then any problems with this ministry take on the level of a tragedy.

I remain nervous about this whole phenomenon. Much of my upcoming opinions (and any revisions) may hang on the meeting I hope to have with an acquaintance whose wife has been to Lakeland. And having failed to make the ‘impartation meeting’ at Meadgate Church last Friday night, I shall bat a meeting next Monday lunch-time where my vicar friend from that church will be present. We hope to chat. Readers of my posts on Bentley will have realised I have significant reservations, not least in the areas of verified healings (see especially Bene Diction‘s comment today in my post ‘Healing, Verification and Resurrection‘) and what appears to be a violent adaptation of the laying on of hands.

Nevertheless, I am not ruling out the possibility that God may well be at work in this whole experience, just as he is at work in messy churches all over the world. If God is at work, I do not want to oppose the Holy Spirit, for Scripture, experience and church history all teach me this important lesson: the powerful presence of God is not automatically a sign of the divine imprimatur on particular human beings. In the Bible, one might cite characters such as King Saul. In church history, John Wesley thought at first that when people fell to the floor during his preaching, it was vindication of his Arminian theology over the Calvinists. He had to learn that God had a different agenda. Not that I’m against Wesley, you understand! In personal experience, I have seen remarkable things attached to flaky people (I’m saying no more).

One thing I’d like to float for discussion is the question of Bentley and what in the UK we would call working class culture. North America can protest it doesn’t have a class system, it just doesn’t have anything so ancient as ours. North American friends, you can think in terms of blue collar culture. I raise this, because I have noticed people comment on the number of poorer people who have been attending the Lakeland meetings. Given the inability – at least in this country – to reach such peoples ever since the Industrial Revolution, this fact should make us sit up and take notice. We have seen Catholics and Anglo-Catholics do better in inner city areas; we have heard of Pentecostal fruitfulness in South American favelas; but a white, western evangelical-charismatic movement among poorer people is less common.

I have this in mind, because I grew up in an urban part of north London. This year, it has been badly affected by the epidemic of teenagers being stabbed in London. Three had been stabbed to death in the first three months of 2008. I may have a couple of degrees to my name and be educated into a middle class profession, but I am more like ‘local lad made good’. People like those among whom I grew up need the Gospel.

With this in mind, let’s at least give house room to some of Bentley’s approach. The tattoos are an obvious example: he looks like a biker, and is it really right to read certain prescriptions from the Torah off the page as condemning something equivalent? I’m not sure. I don’t like tattoos, but I put that down to personal taste.

Then there’s the language. ‘Bam!’ as someone is apparently overwhelmed by the Holy Spirit. It sounds like something out of Batman, but I can remember middle-class charismatics twenty or thirty years ago talking about being ‘zapped’ by the Holy Spirit. Batman versus Star Wars/Star Trek: what’s the difference? It’s not my preferred expression, but I have nothing against it. Most people aren’t going to use long theological words like I do.

The same could be said of the regular slogan he has, inviting people for prayer ministry or to visit Lakeland: ‘Come and get some’. It sounds like a football hooligan to me, but again, it could just be cultural. We are good at ‘nice’ invitations in our respectable churches; if someone gives an invitation in the language of the street, we shouldn’t dismiss it. We may well be right to raise questions about an emphasis on getting, because it needs to be accompanied by a consequent movement of giving and serving, and that element is by no means clear in the meetings.

And that point beggars the whole use of the word ‘revival’. I’m aware the word is used differently on each side of the Atlantic – we are, as Winston Churchill said, two nations separated by a common language. (Three, counting Bentley’s native Canada.) To the British Christian, a revival is about the church coming back to her purposes, and many people finding faith in Christ for the first time. It is thus intrinsically linked to repentance. Much criticism of Bentley is around the fact that he rarely seems to mention repentance. In North America, a revival can mean a series of meetings in a church, and this is how the Lakeland story began – with five nights of meetings.

Moreover, I hear Bentley distinctly referring to this as a ‘healing revival’. To my ears, that sounds like a claim that we are seeing a major re-emergence of the healing ministry here. However, even this can’t be completely divorced from other uses of the word ‘revival’, because Bentley clearly has a worldwide, if not almost apocalyptic, vision for what has begun in Florida. All in all, then, I really wish he wouldn’t use the word – especially as it is hard to gauge how big or influential this movement is, given its fast dissemination via TV and the Internet. It’s too soon to speak of a revival as anything more than a lot of meetings.

As I say, none of this is to offset or downplay my concerns. It is to put down a marker about something positive. It would be unfair to criticise Bentley for loose use of words, and if he does have a gift for reaching blue collar workers, then any problems with this ministry take on the level of a tragedy.

I remain nervous about this whole phenomenon. Much of my upcoming opinions (and any revisions) may hang on the meeting I hope to have with an acquaintance whose wife has been to Lakeland. And having failed to make the ‘impartation meeting’ at Meadgate Church last Friday night, I shall bat a meeting next Monday lunch-time where my vicar friend from that church will be present. We hope to chat. Readers of my posts on Bentley will have realised I have significant reservations, not least in the areas of verified healings (see especially Bene Diction‘s comment today in my post ‘Healing, Verification and Resurrection‘) and what appears to be a violent adaptation of the laying on of hands.

Nevertheless, I am not ruling out the possibility that God may well be at work in this whole experience, just as he is at work in messy churches all over the world. If God is at work, I do not want to oppose the Holy Spirit, for Scripture, experience and church history all teach me this important lesson: the powerful presence of God is not automatically a sign of the divine imprimatur on particular human beings. In the Bible, one might cite characters such as King Saul. In church history, John Wesley thought at first that when people fell to the floor during his preaching, it was vindication of his Arminian theology over the Calvinists. He had to learn that God had a different agenda. Not that I’m against Wesley, you understand! In personal experience, I have seen remarkable things attached to flaky people (I’m saying no more).

One thing I’d like to float for discussion is the question of Bentley and what in the UK we would call working class culture. North America can protest it doesn’t have a class system, it just doesn’t have anything so ancient as ours. North American friends, you can think in terms of blue collar culture. I raise this, because I have noticed people comment on the number of poorer people who have been attending the Lakeland meetings. Given the inability – at least in this country – to reach such peoples ever since the Industrial Revolution, this fact should make us sit up and take notice. We have seen Catholics and Anglo-Catholics do better in inner city areas; we have heard of Pentecostal fruitfulness in South American favelas; but a white, western evangelical-charismatic movement among poorer people is less common.

I have this in mind, because I grew up in an urban part of north London. This year, it has been badly affected by the epidemic of teenagers being stabbed in London. Three had been stabbed to death in the first three months of 2008. I may have a couple of degrees to my name and be educated into a middle class profession, but I am more like ‘local lad made good’. People like those among whom I grew up need the Gospel.

With this in mind, let’s at least give house room to some of Bentley’s approach. The tattoos are an obvious example: he looks like a biker, and is it really right to read certain prescriptions from the Torah off the page as condemning something equivalent? I’m not sure. I don’t like tattoos, but I put that down to personal taste.

Then there’s the language. ‘Bam!’ as someone is apparently overwhelmed by the Holy Spirit. It sounds like something out of Batman, but I can remember middle-class charismatics twenty or thirty years ago talking about being ‘zapped’ by the Holy Spirit. Batman versus Star Wars/Star Trek: what’s the difference? It’s not my preferred expression, but I have nothing against it. Most people aren’t going to use long theological words like I do.

The same could be said of the regular slogan he has, inviting people for prayer ministry or to visit Lakeland: ‘Come and get some’. It sounds like a football hooligan to me, but again, it could just be cultural. We are good at ‘nice’ invitations in our respectable churches; if someone gives an invitation in the language of the street, we shouldn’t dismiss it. We may well be right to raise questions about an emphasis on getting, because it needs to be accompanied by a consequent movement of giving and serving, and that element is by no means clear in the meetings.

And that point beggars the whole use of the word ‘revival’. I’m aware the word is used differently on each side of the Atlantic – we are, as Winston Churchill said, two nations separated by a common language. (Three, counting Bentley’s native Canada.) To the British Christian, a revival is about the church coming back to her purposes, and many people finding faith in Christ for the first time. It is thus intrinsically linked to repentance. Much criticism of Bentley is around the fact that he rarely seems to mention repentance. In North America, a revival can mean a series of meetings in a church, and this is how the Lakeland story began – with five nights of meetings.

Moreover, I hear Bentley distinctly referring to this as a ‘healing revival’. To my ears, that sounds like a claim that we are seeing a major re-emergence of the healing ministry here. However, even this can’t be completely divorced from other uses of the word ‘revival’, because Bentley clearly has a worldwide, if not almost apocalyptic, vision for what has begun in Florida. All in all, then, I really wish he wouldn’t use the word – especially as it is hard to gauge how big or influential this movement is, given its fast dissemination via TV and the Internet. It’s too soon to speak of a revival as anything more than a lot of meetings.

As I say, none of this is to offset or downplay my concerns. It is to put down a marker about something positive. It would be unfair to criticise Bentley for loose use of words, and if he does have a gift for reaching blue collar workers, then any problems with this ministry take on the level of a tragedy.