Admitting our need for help: Paris airport, excess baggage and Luke 18:9-14

December 6, 2023

"Porter service!" said someone around the table.


"Yes, porter service!" said another.


"Ah! But I have a plan!!" said I.


The problem? How to navigate two 60lb dogs, two 48" dog crates, a rucksack and a backpack, by myself, from the baggage reclaim at Paris Charles De Gaulle airport all the way through customs and to arrivals. After a 9-hour flight across the Atlantic.


I had an excellent, thought-out, flawless plan which included a double hands-free dog leash, being strapped up with KT tape for my bad back, learning to disassemble the crates quickly (with two dogs attached to my hip) and then stacking them on an airport luggage cart. Yes, I'd be jetlagged. Yes, the dogs will be giddy from being in their crates for 10+ hours. But it'll be fine. What could possibly go wrong?


A porter service? No thanks. I'd rather do it solo. I don't want to ask for help. I don't want to delegate. I'd much rather get on and do what needs to be done to complete this last 800 yards (or whatever the distance is from baggage reclaim to arrivals) till I meet Darren from Exec Pets for the taxi ride to our new home.


And so I came to eat a little slice of humble pie. Over the weekend after I had the conversation described above, I engaged in some spiritual reading and reflection. I was challenged to consider current ways in which I might still act out of my old self; old ways of being and acting that aren't rooted and grounded in God but in myself (or a myriad of other possibilities). How could I exercise self-discipline (not a comfortable word!) and make real changes in the choices I make to be more in step with God.


For me this week, that looks like asking for help in Paris airport. Even paying for help. If I have the good fortune to be able to afford the help with a situation I couldn't possibly manage myself, why wouldn't I? Who am I trying to impress? What am I trying to prove? Yes, me of 20 years ago responded to someone saying "You can't do that" with a clear and deliberate "Watch me!" either by word or action. It didn't matter how much it might hurt in the process, I would get it done.


But that independent, stubborn streak is not a fruit of the Spirit. Take a look through the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22-23, you'll notice that independence isn't there. Stubborn? Not part of the work of God in our lives.


By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.


With all this in mind and heart, a small, seemingly insignificant decision became deeply meaningful. Will I continue with my way of being? Or will I bring my whole life into line with God's way?


***


Even more than just eating a little slice of humble pie, it dawned on me just how much in asking for help and recognising that such help can be costly (but still worth it) is a way of embodying our faith in the Gospel. The Cross is a place where we admit our powerlessness. Our inability to reconcile ourselves back to God. How we have strayed so very far from the whole and good life God purposed for us. As a human race we have traded our glory for rags. And the distance and the damage that such decisions have created in us are something we cannot fix.


Consider my airport predicament: stuck in Paris CDG baggage reclaim with more baggage than I can carry by myself. It doesn't matter whether I have a hundred dog crates or just one. I'm not making it through customs to arrivals. I can try and punish myself into making it work. I can plan, I can strategize, I can work to contort circumstances work for me. But it's never going to last.


I can fight, I can resist. I can say proudly "I'm independent, I can handle this!" and perhaps hollow myself out in the process.


Or I can accept that some things are just too much to bear alone. Some things can be alleviated by outside help alone. I don't have to fight. I don't have to strain and stress. I can accept that help is available. I can say that the cost for such help is possible. And I can cover the costs.


***


The Gospel is not dissimilar. Take the parable of the Pharisee and Tax-Collector in Luke 18:9-14:


Jesus also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: ‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’


There is one who is sure of his abilities. His competence. His ability to independently do as God asked of him. Then there is another who is woefully aware of his limits. Of where he has not done (and cannot do) what is needed. He knows what he is not. He knows he needs help that comes from outside of himself.


I love the Greek here in the tax-collector's plea. In "God, be merciful to me, a sinner!" the typical word for mercy is not used. Here it actually denotes offering and sacrifice. It's more "God, offer an atoning sacrifice for me, a sinner!" There's a spiritual distance to cover, and I cannot do it. Reconcile me back to you. Clear away what I cannot clear myself. Bring me home.


The weight of our spiritual baggage is great. It is too great for you or I to bear. It won't just give us a bad back, ultimately this weight will kill us, either in body or spirit (and eventually both). We need help from outside of ourselves. Help that costs. And unlike the porter service in Paris CDG, none of us have that kind of currency. But God does and it is our free gift. The Cross carries all of our burdens and baggage. It takes the weight we cannot bear so we can come home to Him.


So why would I try to do it myself? What am I/you/anyone else trying to prove?


Will we ask for help? For me, in Paris CDG at least, the answer is yes.




******



By Suse McBay May 29, 2025
****** “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.” I’m not sure if it’s true, but George Lucas, the creator of Star Wars, is credited as popularizing a big change in film production: not having opening credits. Instead of old Westerns and black and white films that began by naming the director, producer, key stars and so on, Lucas began the Star Wars films with the very famous line: “ A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away .” And then came the opening “crawl” that sets up the viewer for the story to come: "It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire..." And so it sets up the story of Luke, Leia and Han Solo. Well, I want to suggest this morning that here in Acts 1 we have the opening words and “crawl” to the Book as a whole. And what sets the scene? Jesus’ ascension. *** In Acts 1, Luke recaps from where his gospel left off in Luke 24, with similar talk of the spread of gospel to the ends of the earth, that his disciples will be his witnesses, and his instruction to wait for the promise of God to come that is His Spirit, as well as, of course, Jesus’ ascent into heaven. But the Acts version has a specific focus: repeatedly mention the watching and looking of the disciples, the taking and lifting up of Jesus and the repeated mention of his destination: heaven. So why this attention in Acts' “opening crawl”? How does this set the scene for the story of the church that is told in Acts and continues today? Well, in contrast to the first victory in the opening of Star Wars, perhaps preparing for more victories to come, the Ascension grounds us in the defining, cosmic-shaping victory of Jesus that began with his resurrection and conlcudes with his exaltation in the spiritual world. Echoing Daniel 7, Jesus is taken up on a cloud, the chariot of the warrior-God, and is now enthroned to rule in heaven. The work of the church is done in light of this all-encompassing victory that has already been won. Christ is already King. But it’s not only that. Often we talk about Jesus’ ascension from a human perspective: his physical departure from earth. Here the disciples see for themselves Jesus’ exaltation and the opening of heaven: they are gripped by it. Through Christ’s entrance into and rule in heaven, he is made more readily available to us on earth. T he work of the church is done by living in a new space that recognises this opening of heaven: consider God’s promised Holy Spirit who comes in Acts 2, how angels appear here and throughout Acts, as well as people being healed, delivered from evil spirits, miracles taking place and people coming to faith . The spiritual realm is breaking in. So, this Thursday of 5th week, with deadlines, looming exams and soon-to-come ordinations: where will we look? Will we stare upwards and wonder where Jesus went? Or will we look outwards, and live in the light of the one who rules the heavens and has opened heaven to us, and for whom we wait to rule the earth as well? ******
By Suse McBay May 13, 2025
*** True Colours I was in a situation a few years ago where someone I trusted and expected to act in a certain way didn’t do so. In fact, they did they did the opposite. It hurt. It hurt because there were consequences that affected me, but it also hurt because I thought I knew the person, that I knew how’d they’d respond to pressure. When the rubber hits the road and things get real. Instead, their true colours emerged, and I was wrong. Who I thought this person was, and who they told me they were, was in reality quite different from who they actually proved themselves to be . The specifics aren’t for posting online, but I’m sure you can relate. Most of us can recall some kind of experience of someone we love, someone whose character we trust, letting us down. Someone who you might have believed in—maybe even defended to other people—choosing to do something that shows they weren’t worthy of that trust. Showing that your assessment of them was, essentially, quite different from the reality of who they are. They lacked integrity. Esther’s Example This term at Wycliffe, my colleague John is teaching his way through the book of Esther for the Bible expositions in chapel. Now the book of Esther famously doesn’t even mention God: so what is its purpose? Well, in part (as my colleague has been discussing), it’s a book about wisdom. Will we learn from the wise in the story: Esther (and Mordecai)? Will learn from the foolish: King Ahasuerus? The wicked: Haman? At the start of the book, Esther is a young, timid woman, who’d been through a lot. She was orphan and had been raised by her uncle. But she shows willingness and some social savviness and does what Mordecai tells her to do. By the end of the book she’s bold and courageous. Yes, she knows how to play the political game, but she does so in order to stand up for her people who are being persecuted by Persian imperial policy. She exposes Haman’s duplicitousness. Esther has a remarkable integrity and commitment to who she is and what she values. She is willing to risk her life to stand up for what is right, even knowing the cost. She has integrity. Her insides match her outsides as her character develops through the book. When We Fail Stephen and I go to a large Anglican church in the centre of Oxford. A couple of weeks ago, we had a visiting preacher (who is also a poet and philosopher) preaching about baptism. In the course of his sermon, he reminded us that who we really are is who we are when no-one is watching. And that Jesus died for us, knowing exactly what we do when the curtains are closed and no-one can see us. Again, it speaks to integrity—and that Jesus has come to deal with it. If everyone else thinks I’m a model Christian, but at home, by myself, I’m angry, compulsive, critical, selfish or greedy, the latter is a far more honest assessment of who I am and needs some spiritual help. It exposes a lack of integrity: I have an exterior self who looks one way, but an interior self (that I hide away) that looks quite another. What will happen when the pressure is on? That interior self will come out, one way or another. The good news is Jesus went to the Cross, even for that interior self. And with his help I can be forgiven, heal and become whole. That’s in part what baptism symbolises: me dying to all that ugliness and ungodliness. Naming it, owing it and leaving it with Jesus at the Cross, and then rising to a new life that where my insides match my outsides. A person of integrity. Learn from the Wise: Daniel 11-12 But what of the original situation: when others we trusted in and believed in have let us down? I’ve been teaching my way through the book of Daniel and its been fascinating to muse on this topic. Daniel 7-12 describe a series of visionary experiences that give God’s perspective on the political problems and extreme religious oppression that led to the Maccabean revolt in the 160s BC. These were largely due to the decisions of the Antiochus IV who was on the throne of the Hellenistic empire, a Greek of Seleucid descent. You can read about Antiochus IV in 1 and 2 Maccabees, but the snapshot version is that he installed puppet high priests in the Temple at Jerusalem, looted it for money to fuel his military campaigns, outlawed the Torah (including Sabbath observance and circumcision) and, most egregiously, desecrated the Temple with pig sacrifices and an altar to Zeus. These orders resulted in many faithful Jews having to try and keep Torah secretly. When discovered, those who had done so were public shamed and then executed (e.g. 2 Macc 6:10). It was miserable existence (2 Macc 6:9). Antiochus IV’s diabolical political rule was one thing, but the book of Daniel also wrestles with this: what do we do when our religious leaders let us down? When their outsides don’t match their insides? When we discover they are white-washed tombs (Matt 23:27)? The high priest and many other religious establishment figures were swayed by Antiochus IV at the expense of their loyalty to the Lord Most High. Daniel 11 and 12 in particular speak to this situation. Daniel 11:32 says that Antiochus will “seduce with intrigue those who violate the covenant” in contrast to “the people who are loyal to their God.” A few verses later we learn why: “Those who acknowledge him [Antiochus] he shall make more wealthy, and shall appoint them as rulers over many, and shall distribute the land for a price” (v.39). Antiochus used his power and means to get what he wanted, and those who showed more fidelity to him than to the God of Israel, got to share in that wealth themselves. So, what is Daniel’s answer to when the stewards of God’s covenant and teachers of God’s law reveal their true colours? When their words and who they’ve said they are don’t match up with who they have shown themselves to be? When those around us lack integrity, what are we to do? Well, it’s not to keep hanging on and believing in religious leaders who have proven themselves to be corrupted by political power (they are destined for shame and contempt, Dan 12:2). Daniel’s suggestion is to fix our eyes elsewhere instead: “ The wise among the people shall give understanding to many; for some days, however, they shall fall by sword and flame, and suffer captivity and plunder. ” (Daniel 11:33) Look to the wise. Look to those with understanding. Come to understand for yourselves. But this is not an easy answer. For these are the folk that get into trouble. Who perish by the sword. They don’t look like winners. This is perhaps why Daniel’s own response to the visions is one of weakness, fear and trembling. To understand and see reality for what it is can be deeply disturbing. In Daniel, understanding revolves around knowing God is God of all and all kings should have limits to their power. Even when kings like Antiochus IV trample on what is sacred, and transgress into the holy of holies—divine space—God through his angels is contending with powers beyond human ones and will bring all to judgement. But the waiting in the meantime will not be easy or pain-free. That’s why the promise of resurrection is so important in Daniel 12: it’s reassurance for the faithful—for the wise—to keep going. It is they who will be raised and will be like angels: "Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever." (Dan. 12:3) When those we’ve trusted and believed in fail us, God is at work. There may not be easy answers, and sitting with the reality of betrayal is painful, but God is not done yet. Sometimes what is happening is part of a much bigger, cosmic picture and God will intervene. Others’ words and actions may not line up, but ours can. Our insides can match our outsides and our words match our actions. With God’s help we too can become “ people who are loyal to their God ,” those who “ shall stand firm and take action. ” (Dan. 11:32) ****** Cover picture: John Everett Millais, Esther, 1863–65, Oil on canvas, 77.4 x 106 cm, Private Collection

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