Tag: unbelief

Making A Choice About Jesus, John 6:1-21 (Ordinary 17 Year B)

John 6:1-21

You are at the pub quiz night – or community centre, if you prefer – and your team gets this question:

Apart from the crucifixion and the resurrection, what is the only story to appear in all four of the Gospels according to Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John?

Full marks if you said, the feeding of the five thousand.

Now do not let modern scepticism explain it away, for example, as a symbolic story. In Mark’s account, he makes the apparently incidental comment that the grass was green, which implies this happened in springtime. John corroborates this when he observes that ‘The Jewish Passover Festival was near’ (verse 4). Passover occurred in the spring.

No: this incident must have made a massive impact on the early Christians for all four evangelists to record it.

And in John’s case, you can tell that from the fact that he includes it as one of the seven ‘signs’ in his Gospel. John never just speaks about ‘miracles’. Even the healings at the beginning of this account (verse 2) are called ‘signs.’

Why a ‘sign’ and not just a common-or-garden miracle? Because a sign points somewhere. The signs in John point to Jesus. Read on in the chapter and we will find Jesus making one of his ‘I am’ sayings that are also a feature in John – in this case, ‘I am the bread of life.’ That is where ultimately the feeding of the five thousand points to as a sign.

But even before we get to that point, there is a very basic issue that both the disciples and the crowd must face. In different ways, they need to make a choice about Jesus. We’re going to explore those choices about Jesus, because the alternatives before them also come up for us.

Firstly, with the disciples, there is a choice between problems and possibilities.

We read that Jesus knew all along what he was going to do, and when he asked Philip where they were going to buy bread to feed the crowd, he did so in order to test him (verses 5-6). And Philip doesn’t do too well on the test:

‘It would take more than half a year’s wages to buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!’ (verse 7)

All he can see is the problem.

Andrew does marginally better. He who had brought his brother Simon to Jesus in chapter 1 now brings the boy with the five barley loaves and two fishes, even if he also asks how that meagre offering will feed the multitude (verse 9). Andrew struggles, but at least sees a tiny possibility.

Meanwhile, all along, Jesus knows the divine possibilities.

If we are to be people of true faith in Jesus, then we need to start tilting towards possibilities rather than problems.

But I confess to you, I am far from perfect myself in this area. My wife will tell you how frustrating I can be when she comes up with a bright idea, and my instinctive response is to list all the hurdles it faces. I like to think that I’m simply setting out what obstacles we’ll need to cross in order to achieve her idea, but I’m not convinced she believes me. Maybe it’s my depression speaking, or a lack of self-confidence, but I know I can present as being a glass-half-empty person who takes the remaining water in the glass and uses it to douse the flames of enthusiasm.

Yet for all that, I’m very different when the boot is on the other foot. If I am making suggestions to a church about things we can do and all I get in response is, we can’t do that, we don’t like that, we won’t do that, then I become the frustrated one. Churches ask you to give them a lead and when you do, they don’t take it. Many a time I have come home from a meeting and told my wife that I am wasting my time as a minister.

Jesus calls us to be people of possibilities, not problems. He calls us to be people of faith. We nod our heads to that, but then refuse to live that out in practice. Some of us are addicted to middle-class comfort, rather than committed to living out a life of faith in Jesus.

The other day, I watched an interview with the late Tim Keller, who planted a successful Presbyterian church from scratch in New York City, and then when he stepped down, he set up an organisation to support anyone else who wanted to reach people in cities around the world with the Gospel. The interviewer asked him why he was so passionate about cities.

Keller replied that more and more people are moving into cities, but Christians are retreating from them. He said too many Christians are more concerned to ask where they will be comfortable than where they will be useful to God.

So I want to lay this out as a challenge to the church today. Are we so bound up in problems that we have forgotten that we are meant to have a live faith in Jesus? Could it even be that our obsession with problems is a way of avoiding the challenge of the possibilities he lays before us, so that we remain comfortable, rather than finding out where we are useful to Christ, with the attendant discomfort that may bring?

If we keep running away from the challenges Jesus sets before us, won’t we become like the man in the parable who buried the one talent he had, instead of investing it? You know what happened to him. The same can happen to a church.

Let’s make sure we choose the possibilities of Jesus over the problems we see.

Secondly, with the crowd there is a choice between grace and grabbing.

Right from the outset, Jesus is generous and gracious towards the crowd. Why should he feel obligated to feed them? Shouldn’t he have expected them to prepare and pack provisions if they were going to be out for the day? Surely they should bring the first century equivalent of a packed lunch or snacks? One lad did. If we encountered such thoughtlessness or laziness on a grand scale, wouldn’t we be inclined to say, it’s their fault, they can sort it out?

Not Jesus. In his kindness and compassion, he miraculously provides for this huge gathering.

And that is entirely consistent with what we know about the character of Jesus. Hasn’t he provided a world where there is enough for all, regardless of our selfishness? Doesn’t his Father send the sun to shine on both the righteous and the unrighteous? Isn’t he the One who asked sick people, what do you want me to do for you?

And isn’t it our own fault that we are messed up with our sins? Don’t we deserve to be left to our own devices and rot?

Jesus doesn’t see it that way. He offers his very life that we might find the forgiveness of sins. He rises from the dead for us to know new life. He sends his Spirit on us to begin the work of transformation. We don’t deserve any of that, but this is his generous, gracious love in action.

Jesus is characterised by generosity and grace. He isn’t stingy. The disciples filled up twelve baskets with the leftovers from the miraculously multiplied barley loaves (verse 13).

And after the feeding of the five thousand, look at how he calms the fears of his disciples when he comes walking on the water. ‘It is I; don’t be afraid’ (verse 20).

This is Jesus. He isn’t miserable. He isn’t mean. He doesn’t have a thunderbolt in his back pocket that he’s just itching to throw at you. He longs for us to know and experience his generous love and his grace.

But the crowd makes the wrong call. Having enjoyed all that Jesus had done for them and given them, then instead of gratitude for that love, they want to grab Jesus for their own purposes:

14 After the people saw the sign Jesus performed, they began to say, ‘Surely this is the Prophet who is to come into the world.’ 15 Jesus, knowing that they intended to come and make him king by force, withdrew again to a mountain by himself.

They just want to use Jesus for their own purposes and what they can get out of him. This is not the relationship of friendship and love that Jesus would later talk about. They just wanted to grab Jesus and use him.

The stakes are high. Had the crowd succeeded, then Jesus would have become a failed Messiah. He can’t afford that. He has to withdraw from them.

And if we just want to manipulate Jesus for our own purposes, he will withdraw his presence from us, too. What he offers us in his generous love and grace is the very best and most important gift we need, in his reconciling love. But if we want to use him for our own ends, he will withdraw from us. We have refused what he knows we need the most.

Does this sort of thing happen today? Yes. Plenty of people invoke God for their own political ends. Maybe it’s more obvious in the USA than the UK. Donald Trump claimed God protected him from the assassin’s bullet. I’m not sure what that says about the family man at the rally who nevertheless died protecting his wife and children. Joe Biden said that God led him to step down from the presidential race. Does that just give a gloss to what he should have done weeks or months earlier?

Us? Do we sometimes treat Jesus as some glorified fortune cookie? We just want what we can get out of him. We’ll follow him while he offers us the things we want from him, but when he asks for our loyal commitment to him and his cause, then we’ll drift away. It’s no coincidence that by the end of this chapter in John most of the crowd has given up on following him. Just being in it for what we can get out of him doesn’t last. It shows us up for how shallow we are.

Yes, Jesus is full of generous love. He is full of grace and mercy. It is his nature. But he also longs for us to follow him, and not just ask ourselves what’s in it for us.

And maybe that’s the point at which the two sets of choices come together for us. How we make those choices will determine whether we move from the crowd to the disciples.

Firstly, we need to receive the generous love and grace of Jesus, as in his kindness he forgives us our sins and provides us with everything we need. In gratitude we choose to follow him rather than just exploit him for all we can selfishly get out of him.

That moves us from crowd member to disciple. And then as disciples, hearing the call to follow Jesus, we join him on the adventure of faith when we refuse to play life safe by concentrating on the problems and instead embrace all the possibilities far beyond our own imagination that Jesus lays before us for the sake of his kingdom.

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Doubting Thomas Overcomes Barriers To Faith, John 20:19-31 (Easter 2 Low Sunday 2024)

John 20:19-31

I gained my first experience of leading worship and preaching in a youth preaching team in my home circuit. We took services in the churches of the circuit under the supervision of a Local Preacher.

One year, we were appointed to take a service on the Sunday after Easter. The Local Preacher, a woman by the name of Win, explained to us that this Sunday was traditionally called ‘Low Sunday.’

Why was that, we asked?

Because, she said, after all the joy and celebration of Easter Day, people needed to come down a bit.

Oh, said we mischievous teenagers: Hangover Sunday!

Now I am not sure that the intoxication of Easter Day has negative side-effects at all. It’s the beginning of the whole Easter season that lasts fifty days until Pentecost. We have seven weeks of celebration!

And our Gospel reading today occurs in the Lectionary every year on Low Sunday. So what to say this year?

Well, there is so much in the reading, and given that I have been preaching on mission before Easter and will go back to that after the Easter season, I am going to leave the first half of the reading where Jesus commissions the remaining apostles to go into the world like he did in the power of the Spirit bringing the forgiveness of sins.

That leaves the second half of the reading and our good friend Thomas. Come with me as we walk with him on a journey to deeper faith in the risen Lord.

Firstly, angry Thomas:

Angry? Yes – angry. Before we ever get onto the question of ‘doubting Thomas’ we need to consider his anger.

How so? Well, part of my preparation for this week has been my regular reading of a blog by an Anglican New Testament scholar, Ian Paul. In his reflections this week on today’s passage he tells a story about how he once took a primary school assembly where he asked the pupils who their heroes were, and then told them that he had actually met each of those heroes on his way to the school that morning. The youngsters grew increasingly sceptical.

But then he asked them how they would have felt if he actually had met their heroes on the way to the school and they hadn’t. A boy shot up his hand and said, ‘I would be very angry!’ Ian Paul reflects on this incident and the Thomas story in these words:

It was an amazing insight into the things that hold us back from believing, and anger at what has happened to us and the way life has turned out seems to me to be far more common than an actual lack of evidence, even if it is evidential language that we naturally reach for.

Thomas is angry at having missed out. The other disciples are annoyingly happy, and he hasn’t had that experience. We talk today about FOMO – Fear Of Missing Out – and that’s Thomas. He has missed out, and he’s mad.

And like Ian Paul says, our anger at certain events and circumstances in life can do more to inhibit faith than our intellectual questions. I’m sure you’ve come across people who have described an unspeakable tragedy in their lives and who are angry at God about it. I’m sure you’ve met people who can’t cope with the fact that other people have received blessings that they have longed for, but they haven’t.

I’m sure many of us know how unresolved anger burns up our soul like acid. If we bury the anger, it comes out like a Jack-in-the-box in other forms. Some (but by no means all) forms of depression can happen this way. Yet if we let the anger fester, we become bitter and twisted people.

But here’s the good news. The risen Jesus appears to angry Thomas. He shows him his wounds. The Lord himself has been through unjust suffering. If anyone had the right to be angry about their treatment, it was Jesus. Yet he meets Thomas in love.

If we are struggling with anger, we have a God who can handle it. His Son has been through the most unjust suffering the world has ever seen. He understands. And he has given us the Old Testament Psalms, where so many express questioning and anger towards God about the circumstances of life. God holds us in his arms while we beat upon his chest. And in the Resurrection, he begins the work of reversing injustice.

Secondly, doubting Thomas:

It’s still true that Thomas doubts. He says,

‘Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.’ (Verse 25b)

Although hear the anger in those words ‘I will not believe.’

And Jesus, after showing him his wounds, says,

‘Stop doubting and believe.’ (Verse 27b)

There are some mitigating factors here. Thomas was not alone in doubting. The male disciples generally also doubted the women’s testimony until they saw the empty tomb for themselves. I have often remarked that my late father thought Thomas has been unfairly singled out in history.

Now there are some who make a distinction between doubt and unbelief. The Christian writer Os Guinness says in his book on doubt that doubt is ‘faith in two minds’, whereas unbelief is a straight-out refusal to believe. Thomas seems to oscillate between the two.

But at least he is honest. He doesn’t play pretend. He doesn’t suppress his doubts and pretend to have more faith than he does.

However, ultimately, Jesus wants to bring him to a point of faith, a place of believing.

And what is faith? Contrary to what some of the ‘New Atheists’ say, it is emphatically not believing in something that you know to be untrue.

No. Faith is knowing enough in order to trust. When we have faith, we have enough evidence about Jesus and his Resurrection in order to trust him. We do not have complete knowledge, but we have enough to say, yes, we will entrust our lives to him.

We do this in other parts of life. The point at which I proposed to my then-girlfriend, now wife, was when I knew enough about her to trust her and believe that entering into life together would be a good enterprise. Of course, I will never know her fully: what man ever understands a woman like that?

As Jesus says to Thomas, most people will not get the benefit he does of a personal appearance to lead him to that place of faith. I did have a church member in my first appointment who had become a Christian when Jesus had appeared in a vision to her at the bottom of her bed one night, but for most of us, something like that doesn’t happen.

Instead, we have enough evidence about Jesus in order to trust him. We have the testimonies of the four Gospel writers. As John writes,

31 But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.

We have good historical evidence for the Resurrection. I don’t have time to go into that now, ask me afterwards, but it’s good. We have the testimonies of our friends.

We may not know everything about Jesus. We may still have questions. We may wobble in our faith from time to time. But we have enough in order to stop our fundamental doubting and believe.

Thirdly and finally, humble Thomas:

28 Thomas said to him, ‘My Lord and my God!’

Now as an aside this is one of my favourite verses to quote to Jehovah’s Witnesses when they deny the deity of Jesus Christ. They try to say that Thomas is at this point addressing heaven, not Jesus, despite the fact that the context is a conversation between him and Jesus. That’s an amazing piece of grammatical gymnastics on their part.

But having said that, it struck me this week what a humble statement this is. After all his anger and doubt, Thomas responds to the evidence and the overtures of love from Jesus in the right way. Humility.

Not everybody does. I have heard of some atheists being asked, if you were given convincing evidence for God, would you then believe? Some still said, no, because they did not want to be answerable to anyone but themselves. Their problem was not intellectual but one of spiritual pride and rebellion.

Thomas has none of these. The right and proper response to Jesus is to bow in adoration and make an oath of allegiance to him. He doesn’t waste any time in doing the right thing.

For pride is another of the barriers to faith, but the gift of humility enables Thomas to respond to the mercy and love of Jesus. The only way we or anyone else find our way into the kingdom of God is by humbly receiving what God does for us in Christ.

I find that some of the people who have the worst problems with pride are intelligent, educated people. They point to surveys that show the higher you go up the scale of intellect, the less people believe in the existence of God. They draw the rather simple conclusion that more intelligent people think belief in God is not plausible, and therefore you should not.

But these people make a fatal mistake. They fail to see that our minds as much as any other part of our lives are affected by sin, and they have fallen victim to the temptation of pride, one of the key things that prevents belief in God. Beware that if you debate with an intellectual whose mind seems hardened against the idea of faith, pride may well be an issue.

Do not misunderstand me. I am not against intellectual endeavour. I have done post-graduate research at university and hold two Theology degrees. I believe Jesus when he said that we are to love the Lord our God with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our mind and with all our strength.

But at the bottom line, I believe the only way to avail ourselves of God’s blessings in Christ is humility. It is to say, I cannot get to God by my own beliefs, merits, or actions. I can only hold out the empty hands of faith to receive. And when I do, I honour Jesus as my Lord and my God. What he says, goes.

Conclusion

I think we can say, then, that Thomas has shown us some of the major barriers to faith and how they are overcome.

We can bring our anger into the arms of the loving God who has embraced suffering and begun the work of destroying injustice.

We can bring our doubts to the testimony of Jesus and learn that he is trustworthy.

We can reject the pride in our own abilities that prevents us receiving from God and in humility receive his grace and mercy.

Let us remember these things in our own lives and also in our witness to people beyond the church that the risen Jesus is this world’s true Lord.

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Sermon For Advent 4: Mary The First Christian?

Luke 1:26-38

Wandering around St Augustine’s last Sunday morning before the service, I noticed the place where the Catholic community leave their votive candles burning after their 9 am Mass. I’m sure there is a special Catholic word for it, but I’m afraid I’m ignorant of these technicalities.

In front of the candles is a kneeler and small rail. On the rail are some cards containing the texts of prayers. Prominent among them was a prayer to Mary written by the current Pope.  Of course as I read it I realised it was not addressing Mary in prayer in the way you would God. It was asking Mary’s help in approaching God, and in the ways of discipleship. 

Nevertheless, my Protestant bones got nervous! And maybe a number of us still do at the mention of Mary, despite warmer relations with Christians of other traditions.

Yet whatever reservations I want to enter about traditional Catholic attitudes to Mary, it’s entirely wrong just to be negative about her, which is the Protestant error regarding her. Mary is a great example of Christian discipleship herself. Remember she was at the Cross and among the disciples praying in the lead-up to Pentecost.

And she is an example of Christian discipleship here, too, in the famous story of the Annunciation. How so? In ways that are fundamental to all followers of Jesus. Her life – even here, at the tender age of about thirteen – is a testimony to Christian basics.

Favour 
‘Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessèd art thou among women,’ say our Catholic friends. They are quoting this very passage. To quote it from the reading, Gabriel says:

‘Greetings, favoured one! The Lord is with you.’ (‘Blessèd are you among women’ is not in the best manuscripts.) (Verse 28)

The difference I have with Catholics is that Mary is not the giver of grace but the recipient of grace. ‘Full of grace’ means she is the ‘favoured one’. God has favoured her. There is no indication of any reason why she has deserved this. Rather, this is the sovereign choice of God in deciding to favour one of his children. There is no requirement that Mary is sinless, it is about the sovereign grace of God.

But what kind of favour is it? God has chosen her to bring his Son into the world. In one respect, that is the most enormous honour. It is an incredible decision of favour towards Mary. What could be more wonderful than to carry the presence of God in her womb for nine months? What could be more incredible than to be the one who brings God in the flesh into the midst of humanity?

So you could say that we have a similar privilege. God’s favour towards us is that – while we do not carry Jesus physically as Mary did – we carry his presence with us by the Holy Spirit, and we have the missionary privilege of bearing his love into a broken world. God honours us, too, then: he makes us what Paul calls ‘ambassadors’, but not only in representing Christ to the world. We take Christ to the world. God chooses every follower of his Son do this. It shows his favour towards us.

But it is a favour in the form of a double-edged sword. For Mary to accept the call was to risk scandal or even worse. In a society that held strongly to its morals, pregnancy outside marriage would bring shame. Adultery, of course, was punishable by stoning. It was potentially costly in the extreme for Mary to embrace the favour of God. She did so, taking a huge risk. Certainly there is ancient evidence of stories being put around that Jesus was the bastard son of Mary and a Roman soldier. Receiving and accepting the favour of God meant she could be reviled and despised.

And the favour of God is a challenge for us, too.  Yes, it is a privilege to bear witness to Christ in the world, but we know that sometimes comes at a price. Snide comments, ridicule and on other occasions worse things than that. Yet the early church considered such opposition their badge of honour. Mary’s willingness to take on all that the favour of God would mean for her is an Advent reminder to us that the favour of God in Christ carries a price that is worth paying.

Power 
One of the things I most like about Mary is that she asks questions. ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin?’ she asks (verse 34). I’ll say something more about her questions in the final point, but for now let’s notice the angel’s reply:

‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.’ (Verses 35-37)

Mary, you don’t have to abandon your morals to accomplish this. You don’t have to worry about doing the impossible. The impossible is God’s department, says Gabriel. Mary, you cannot fulfil your calling under God except by the power of the Holy Spirit.

And this too becomes an important reminder for us about the nature of Christian discipleship. There is so much we do and maintain in the church and in the world purely on the basis of our own strength. Our criteria are whether we think we can do something, rather than asking what God has called us to do, and then depending on the Holy Spirit.

It’s the latter which is true discipleship, not the former. We are the agents of God’s impossible ministry, and it is accomplished not on the basis of our abilities (however important it is to dedicate them to God). Nor is it achieved by force of strong personalities. God’s work is achieved by our co-operation with the Holy Spirit.

So when Gabriel tells Mary, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you’, he doesn’t just tell her the mechanics of what is to happen in the near future: he foreshadows the way in which God will send the Holy Spirit on all the followers of Christ. 

A wag once said that if the Holy Spirit were withdrawn from the church, then ninety five per cent of all church activity would continue just the same. That may be a trifle unfair, but the point is probably a sound one. We have got so used to running the institution of the church that somewhere along the line many of us have just assumed the presence of the Holy Spirit, rather than lived in active dependence upon him [her?].

So let’s not confine the Holy Spirit to an annual remembrance on the Day of Pentecost. Advent is a time for remembering that the work of the Holy Spirit is three hundred and sixty five days a year, twenty four hours a day. As we celebrate the Annunciation to Mary today, will we recommit ourselves to seeking the power of the Holy Spirit to do the will of God, rather than confining God to the limits of our abilities?

Yes, today is a day to say, ‘God, we give you permission to stretch us. Challenge us to something beyond our capabilities, and we shall rely on your Spirit to accomplish your work.’

Faith 
Now here’s the point where I want to bring back the fact that Mary asks questions. That might not be what you expected me to highlight when talking about her faith. You might have thought I would have gravitated to those wonderful words of hers, ‘Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word’ (verse 38). Certainly those are words of faith. Taken on their own, they might depict a serenity of faith to which many of us aspire.

And in contrast to that, some might think that when she questions the angel, saying, ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin?’ (verse 34), that those words reflect doubt, lack of faith, or even unbelief.

But I submit to you that Mary’s question is not an act of doubt or unbelief. If you had read Luke’s Gospel from the beginning, you would have come across an example of that, where Zechariah hears the angelic announcement that his wife Elizabeth is to bear a son, John the Baptist. Zechariah’s unbelief leads to his being struck dumb until the child is born.

Gabriel doesn’t react that way here. He gives an explanation in response to Mary’s question. I suggest the difference is because Mary feels secure enough to ask questions from within the framework of faith. Having faith need not mean we don’t have questions. The Old Testament is full of such faith. Read the Psalms, where so many of the Psalmists complain to God from a standpoint of faith. Mary isn’t even complaining, she’s just asking ‘how?’.

What’s the difference between faith with questions and unbelief? That’s in Mary’s willingness to obey. You can question but still obey, and that’s what Mary does.

One hymn I hate and will not choose (not that it’s in any Methodist books any more) is ‘I vow to thee my country‘. I take particular exception to the line, ‘The love that asks no question.’ Not only does the hymn require a devotion to country that outstrips our loyalty to God (whatever the final verse says), I’m not sure I even offer God a ‘love that asks no question’. Certainly Mary didn’t. And there’s no reason why we should, either, just so long as we are willing to walk in the footsteps of Jesus.

When I began my career in the Civil Service, I had to spend four weeks away on a training course. I shared accommodation with someone who had a Philosophy degree, and whose dissertation had been written on the subject, ‘Logical disproofs of the existence of God’. Knowing I was a Christian, he asked why I believed in God. But at the end, he made it clear he had no intention of taking it seriously and only did it for a joke. His questions were those of unbelief, not of faith.

Similarly, there are some within the church whose questions can be little more than scorn, rather than honest exploration in the service of Christ. That is hardly a questioning faith.

The key point is that faith has legs. Questions and concerns are fine, just so long as we retain a basic commitment to say ‘yes’ to Christ. Because that’s what a disciple is. Someone who imitates him. That’s going to require a faith that isn’t merely theoretical, but shows itself to be real in obedience. Provided that is at the heart of our faith, we can ask all the questions we need. God is not threatened by them.

Conclusion 
Mary, then, is not some unattainable, semi-divine figure. She is a human, vulnerable follower of her Lord. As such, she can be an inspiration to us as we seek to walk in the way of faith.

Like her, let us accept the gracious favour of God to share Christ with the world, and accept the cost we may have to pay.

Like her, let us depend on the Holy Spirit for the accomplishment of all that God wants to do in and through us, rather than continuing to go through the motions.

And like her, let us bring our questions to God and yet press on in the obedience of faith.

‘Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.’ (Verse 38)

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