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Asking Better Questions: Podcast with Wayne Watson

Tue, 14 Apr 2026 12:11:52 GMT

A few weeks ago, I got to sit down via the wonders of the internet and have a catch-up with my friend and former colleague, Wayne Watson. We talked God, life, and the universe. And Winnie the Pooh!

In Wayne's own words " What begins as lighthearted conversation between old friends quickly unfolds into a thoughtful and wide-ranging exploration of culture and the pursuit of God's truth. "

It was fun. If you fancy a listen, check out the podcast (and the entire series) by clicking here !

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The Risk of Playing It Safe: Why the Bible We Don’t Preach Matters

Wed, 08 Apr 2026 13:45:00 GMT

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I’ve long noticed that the Bible that gets preached from the Sunday pulpit can be, well, a bit picky. Some bits are kept in and preached. Others are studiously ignored. The result? Different churches can give quite a different sense of what the Bible's message is than if you actually read it through cover to cover.

Now I don't mean to accuse any one wing of the church: whether your tradition uses the lectionary (usually a three-year cycle of curated readings) or jumps around the canon to whichever biblical book or theme is of interest, certain parts of the Scriptures are often ignored. Some passages are cut off halfway through; others are omitted entirely.

I remember preaching on Independence Day in the US (the irony of doing so as a Brit was not lost on me). The reading for the day began in Deuteronomy 10:17:

“For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe, who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the stranger, providing them food and clothing…”

Sounds lovely, right?

Well, yes—but Deuteronomy 10:17 starts in the middle of a paragraph. In the middle of divine instruction that God gives through Moses. We can see this in how it begins: for the LORD your God.. . It could also be translated because the LORD your God … This passage is the explanation for something.

It is a why to a biblical command, not a standalone theological statement.

So what’s the actual command? What’s the main message God wants the people to hear? The verse before (v.16) says this: “Circumcise, then, the foreskin of your heart, and do not be stubborn any longer.”

The purpose of this speech? To call God’s people to repentance. To change.

The ‘heart’ in biblical texts usually refers to one’s innermost self. The seat of who you are in the deepest places of your will and desire. God has said he wants their obedience (v.12), he has reminded them of his extraordinary generosity in choosing them as his people (vv.13–15), but here God lands a punch:

The centremost part of who you are, God says, needs to be clipped.

Reading vv.17–22 feels quite different in light of the whole text. It’s not a statement of a good God whom we should simply ‘fear’ and ‘hold fast to’ (v.20). It’s far more rooted and real than that. In reading through all ten verses, we get a sense of a people who have become too big for their boots. Who have forgotten that it’s not because they have anything to offer that God chose them, but rather because of the graciousness of God. And we get a clear call from God that such people need to, in essence, sort themselves out. Be humbled. Circumcise their hearts.

I don’t believe the Sunday lectionary was formed with a conspiratorial agenda to omit the hard stuff (the whole thing would largely be read through in the daily lectionary for the Daily Office). But I do believe it’s spiritually dangerous for us to ignore the material that is left on the cutting room floor in our preaching.

The people of God are called to grow into the fullness of the gospel—to become mature Christians. If we only ever swim in the protected waters of the lectionary, we will not be confronted by the reality of a God who regularly and reliably calls his people to humble themselves, care for those in need, and live lives of sacrificial love. Who makes space within their communities for the vulnerable. Who looks out for the marginalised among us. Who deals with the darkest and ugliest of human evil. Who redeems out of family lines and dynasties most of us would give up on.

In recent years, there has been increasing focus on the importance of the gut–brain connection. How what you eat shapes who you are, and how you function mentally, emotionally, and physically. What we fuel ourselves with matters.

The same is true spiritually. The Bible is the spiritual equivalent of a Whole30. Or a wholemeal, organic, seed-infused sourdough loaf. It’s nutritious and gritty. It requires some chewing. It’s not always easy to digest. But it provides the minerals and nutrients we need.

It may take some adjustment, but it may also be just what the doctor ordered. Not for our physical sicknesses, but rather our more pernicious spiritual malaise.

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Returning Home as a Stranger: Reverse Culture Shock & the CofE

Tue, 24 Mar 2026 13:00:00 GMT

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The Idea of Culture Shock

20 years ago, in the outback of Australia, I first heard about the phenomenon of ‘reverse culture shock’. If you’re not familiar with the concept, it describes what happens when people return home after living overseas, and discover it’s not quite the same. Their home culture, which was once to them like water is to a fish, suddenly becomes alien, strange, and different.

Fast forward two decades and I thought I knew what I was in for on returning to the UK from the sub-tropical Gulf Coast of Texas. After living in and learning from a different culture for just shy of a decade, I anticipated that it would take time, it would feel different, and I might need to relearn some of the Britishness I’d left behind.

First-hand Experience of Coming 'Home'

In many senses, I do think I was readier than some for the return. But there were two things that I was not as prepared for as I’d thought. The first was this: the culture hadn’t actually changed all that much. Yes, there’d been a pandemic, a cost-of-living-crisis (that continues), and various other shifts, but the UK was largely the same as it was before.

It wasn’t the culture that was different, but me. I no longer fitted in as I did before. The cultural hills I used to be willing to die on don’t matter to me anymore. I still appreciate the art of a good queue, a decent cup of tea, and other such delights. But they’re not as intrinsic to me as they were before. I care more than I used to about parking—and the astonishing obliviousness with which some Brits park. I will speak up about bad service in a restaurant. My time is precious and I will do something about it if I feel like someone is wasting it. Even my sense of humour has changed!

I am different: my identity has been shaped from living in Texas for as long as I did. And I found on my return I can still fit—but not in the same way. I find myself gravitating towards people who also know what it’s like to call different countries home and can laugh at both cultures. I find myself connecting with different Brits to the ones I might have connected with before. I am doing things and speaking in ways that I wouldn’t have done before. In the words of Taylor Swift, I discovered that “ I’m the problem, it’s me .” (Though to be fair I don’t really see this as a problem!)

Coming back to the 'Mother Church'

The second thing that I wasn’t prepared for was the locus of where I felt this most acutely. I felt, and continue to feel this most acutely within the (literal and metaphorical) walls of the Church of England. I was raised in the Church of England, worked for Anglican churches and schools, trained in an Anglican theological college, yet I find that I don’t fit like I used to.

Part of that is more general difference: the level of bureaucracy in the CofE is at times alarming and bizarre. After all of my history and rootedness in British Anglicanism, because of technicalities and clerical fudges, I am considered an ‘overseas’ priest. So I can only minister with Overseas Permission To Officiate (OPTO), rather than the more typical domestic version, which required the Archbishop’s approval.

But apart from the institutional differences at the level of administration, my perspective on theological issues has shifted. I’m not saying my theology itself has changed, but how I hold it has. I come back into a church fighting over all kinds of issues (from liturgical forms to sexuality) and it seems so much more tribal than I remember.

I used to be in those tribes—I knew the impulse to self-protection and defence, to engage in the name of what is true and loving and godly. But I no longer fit (and to be clear, I mostly think this is a good thing). But some days it’s really weird being on the outside. It’s like listening to conversation where you hear the words, you know what they mean, but at the same time it sounds completely foreign and alien.

In some ways I experienced the same thing moving to the States. I didn’t understand the culture (and in some ways I still don’t), the fights over politics, the culture wars, and various other things. But I knew that I was in a place that wasn’t the culture in which I was raised, so I expected it. Where I didn’t think I’d feel it was back in the UK Church.

Making Sense of an Unfamiliar Home

So how do I make sense of all of this? How do I navigate this new reality where I don't fit in the same way I used to?

I was teaching recently with a colleague on biblical interpretation and we were discussing different models for approaching a text and how people making meaning out of it. For example, we talked about how Anglican evangelicalism reads the Bible, but also how it has been shaped in the last a hundred years or so by constantly engaging with German academic liberalism. We also asked what this dialogue might gain from engaging with different conversation partners and other models of interpretation—from the Global South, from different backgrounds and experiences, many of whom ask questions of the text we would never think of asking!

Having a breadth of conversation partners is important. Anglican evangelicalism was significantly shaped by responding to a more sceptical German audience. This shaped the dialogue in a certain way: questions about historicity, origins, and authorship. Bringing in different voices and conversations brings with it an inherent richness to think beyond our own limits, gain new insight, and see more of what God is doing in the Bible and what He is wanting to say (which in my view is a very good thing!).

I say all this, because it points to just how important it is to have discussions that engage different voices: it breeds creativity. It helps us break new ground and see new things—and get beyond the trenches of where we are in opposition. What I've noticed in coming back as a now quasi-outsider is this: the church too often loses sight of the signified. We focus on the signs that point to the signified. We get caught up in the language we use, the external descriptors that point to the reality of what God has done in Christ, rather than the reality itself.

The question for me is how does God want me to use my different perspective? How might I participate and bring with me a voice that is both an insider and an outsider?

It’s very easy (and somewhat tempting) to choose not to participate and check out—to disengage.

But actually, God has called us to community. To connect. To be the diverse body of Christ we are (Gal 3:28). Wherever God puts us He calls us to do the work He has for us. And the question is really 'to whom have you called me, God?' Among whom am I called to serve?

So I’m praying about with whom and where that might be. And that I might have the courage to do so, even if it narrows that sense of strangeness.

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Photo by Raul Varzar on Unsplash

The Wisdom of "100%" (or the Lack of It)

Tue, 17 Mar 2026 13:55:02 GMT

Are you 100% sure about that?

Last December, Stephen and I headed for Prague for a few days. We were looking forward to Christmas markets, mulled wine, and shopping. Because we had booked a really early flight, we decided to stay in an airport hotel the night before.

We hadn’t banked on one thing though: how to get from the bus station at Heathrow to the hotel. We could see our destination towering ahead of us as we exited the coach, but there was no reliable way to get there on foot. Much like Houston, navigating the surface roads of Heathrow is much easier for those in a car.

So, we asked for directions from one of the airport staff. She pointed us over to two elevators, sat right next to each other. One had a line of at least twenty people. The other one had none. Those at the front of the queue hadn’t even pressed the button. That seemed strange and indicated that perhaps the people in line didn’t know what they were doing—or weren’t used to London airports.

But why was one line so long and the other non-existent? The signs above weren’t exactly clear, but here were two lifts side-by-side, surely they went to the same place?

Towards the back of the line was a middle-aged man, surrounded by luggage and family, who realised what we were trying to puzzle out. “Nah, you can’t use it. The other lift doesn’t go down. Doesn’t go to the same place,” he told us.

We looked at him quizzically. “Are you sure?” we asked.

“ One hundred percent , mate. One hundred percent.” The certainty with which he declared his answer was persuasive. He crowed like he was the CEO of the airport. That lift would not go where the other one was going. He repeated himself again.

100%.

Only, he was wrong.

We risked looking like fools. We walked to the vacant elevator, hit the button, and—lo and behold!—an elevator appeared that went to the exact same location as the other.

The middle-aged man surrounded by luggage was 100%... in the wrong. Utterly and completely.

***

Words, words, words, but no wisdom

I don’t personally know the man who so-confidently revealed his wrongness. I’ve no idea whether his bluster was out of character from his usual self. But in the moment of our encounter, he acted every bit the ‘fool’ we find in Book of Proverbs:

"A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing personal opinion." (Proverbs 18:2)

There is much wisdom in Proverbs 17:28: Even fools who keep silent are considered wise; when they close their lips, they are deemed intelligent.

It seems to me that we live in a world saturated with words, whether written or spoken. There’s an ever-growing number of websites, social media platforms, podcasts, and so on. Even more so now with AI. Yet for all this verbal abundance, there does not seem to be any more wisdom than there used to be. I would argue with AI, there seems to be less (or perhaps it’s simply exposing our foolishness). Part of me wonders about the virtue of writing a blog, when these are so often half-thoughts, explorations, and ideas: am I just adding to the plethora of opinions that exist on the blogosphere?

Last year, I was teaching on how to plan and lead funerals with our final year ordinands. I spoke with confidence about what works and what doesn’t. What the role of the cleric is, how to work with the grieving family, how to craft the sermon, what to do afterwards etc. It felt good to be able to give real, lived experience having worked in a church for a decade.

But it was only during the Q&A when I realized something. I realized my confidence was borne of a very specific context: I ministered in a large, Episcopal church in Houston, Texas. Not a small parish church, somewhere remote in England. Did the wisdom and experience I bring still have value in the Church of England, where the Church is an established one? Where those who minister do among many people who don’t dare to cross the threshold of a religious building except in such moments of life and death?

Now I happen to think it does; but only with some qualification. For what I realized in that moment is that it’s not quite as readily transferable as I’d assumed. Church cultures are different. Expectations are different. How people respond and react to their local vicar is different! What works in one scenario doesn’t necessarily work in another.

Consider Proverbs 26:4-5:

⁴ Do not answer fools according to their folly, or you will be a fool yourself.

⁵ Answer fools according to their folly, or they will be wise in their own eyes.

Proverbs 26 has a seeming contradiction that speaks to the importance of context. In the situation where you’re faced with someone spouting foolishness, what should you do? Speak or not speak? Engage or not engage? The modern equivalent to v.4 might be to say to yourself “not my monkeys, not my circus” and walk away.

But what about the times when it is your circus? When they are your monkeys?

What about when to walk away is to leave someone blind to their mistakes and doomed to make more? What if responding might feasibly help someone see beyond their own blinkers and make a different choice?

Sometimes v.4 might be the path of wisdom. Other times it’s v.5. But it’s not always apparent which is which.

Overconfidence is not just dangerous for making us look like fools or giving bad advice. If we stay in our certitude, we miss the heart of the issue revealed in these two verses: we need wisdom.

So where do we find it?

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Does ‘wisdom come with age’?

I’ve heard it said that ‘wisdom comes with age’. Ironically enough, this line was used when I was in something of a disagreement with someone much older than me. But claiming moral high ground or superior understanding on the basis of some unalterable characteristic that you have but I don’t, is more indicative of pride than wisdom. If age does come with wisdom, there would be no conflict or disagreement within the human species as we age. If age is the sole arbiter, we should collectively do better as the wrinkles and grey hairs multiply.

Yet that’s not what happens.

Wisdom, sadly, is not inevitable. It can come with age because of one very simple reality: the more time you’ve had on the planet means you’ve had more opportunity to become wise.

Now whether or not you’ve taken those opportunities is quite a different thing!

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Wisdom: a gift that needs seeking

Proverbs has an interestingly balanced view of wisdom. It is (1) something that requires active seeking, yet also (2) something which only God can give.

Proverbs 2:1-4 talks about the need to exert effort in acquisition of wisdom. It’s not something that just lands on our laps: it asks you to be open to learning and sitting with what you receive (v.1), deliberate and intentional in putting your body in a space to grow in it (v.2), and vocal in your search for it (v.3). In other words: humble, open, and hungry.

This passage concludes by likening it to searching for silver or hidden treasure (v.4).

Think about that for a moment: do you search for wisdom in the same way you seek out growth in income or asset? From a human wisdom point of view, seeking financial gain for our security and future as we age (and our children grow and go off to college etc) makes good sense.

But what if we were to seek wisdom with the very same fervour? What if wisdom had the same significance for our spiritual security and future? What if it is important to our growth in the Christian life and readiness for what may come our way?

It’s a gift that needs seeking. But Proverbs tells us it is also a gift that is given.

Verse 6 reveals “ the LORD gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding .”

Our seeking is not the whole picture. Longing for wisdom does not mean we get it. Wisdom is God’s domain not ours. Proverbs 8 illustrates that God’s Wisdom is not something to acquire or harvest. It is not a commodity to be doled out.

It is not a consumer good.

Wisdom was present when God made the world. Wisdom is a part of God’s self that chooses when to be imparted and when not to be (compare 1:28; 8:17; 9:5, 16)

The very fabric of our material world is infused with the mystery of Wisdom.

Insight and understanding comes from God and helps us to navigate the complexity of our lives, but this gift is just a glimpse of a much greater reality of the divine Wisdom which exists eternally.

This, perhaps, brings us back to where I started. True wisdom is never found in loud proclamations of “one hundred percent!”. Why? Because the one who is wise recognises they have a lot to learn. They know that new information can shift and reframe yesterday’s certainty.

Maybe the first step is to stop claiming absolute certainty—to stop the all-or-nothing thinking.

Maybe we start with recognising what Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians 13: we only see in part, know in part, understand in part.

And from there, we begin actively seeking that gift which only God—from His Wisdom—can give.

Wisdom has built her house,

she has hewn her seven pillars.

² She has slaughtered her animals, she has mixed her wine,

she has also set her table.

³ She has sent out her servant-girls, she calls

from the highest places in the town,

⁴ "You that are simple, turn in here!"

To those without sense she says,

⁵ "Come, eat of my bread

and drink of the wine I have mixed.

⁶ Lay aside immaturity, and live,

and walk in the way of insight."

Proverbs 9:1-6

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Photo © Copyright Derek Harper and licensed for reuse under a cc-by-sa/2.0 Creative Commons Licence.

When God Goes Quiet

Fri, 13 Feb 2026 15:43:23 GMT

What do we do on days when God seems entirely absent? Some thoughts about where I see that in my life today and, looking back, recognising how much has changed.

A Field and a Reminder

Last weekend, I took the dogs for a walk around a field near our house. I consider this space 'my field' because I walk there so regularly. It's become a place where I can process, think, reflect, and pray. If you follow me on Instagram, you'll have probably seen the photos. One of the things that I love about this field is that on a very regular basis I see red kites flying overhead. More or less every time I go to my field, I see at least one, if not half a dozen of these beautiful birds of prey, soaring overhead.

Why is this so thrilling? Because for me, for some reason I cannot explain, they remind me of God's presence. His goodness. And His love for me.

When I was a child, kites were relatively rare, and there was a big effort to reintroduce them to Britain and increase their population. Seeing them as a child was exhilirating. The avian equivalent of yellow car. It only happened occasionally. I remember my dad pointing them out and teaching me to identify them from the curve of the tail and the white marks on their wings. Now, as an adult, I see them all the time. So much so, that when I'm out I pretty much only have to think about a red kite, and I usually see one. Remarkably regular reminders that God is with me!

But last weekend I took the dogs out after it had been raining. It was a muddy, bleak, and grey winter's day (and there have been a lot of them this year). I had my thick winter coat on, complete with scarf, hat, gloves, and, as is obligatory, my wellies. I was also full of cold. My head was swimming and I really wanted to be wrapped up inside. As I trudged through the field with the dogs having a great time in the brush and the mud, I looked up and watched the birds. Was God with me?

There was not one, single, red kite in the sky. There were crows. There was a jackdaw or two. Oddly, even a seagull.

But not one red kite. Which got me thinking: what do we do with days like this? When God's presence and His goodness seems pretty absent?

A Different Field in a Different Time

On mulling over these questions, I was reminded of a different field, 15 years ago, where I was asking a not unrelated question. Back then, I was in a field in the east midlands of England (think Robin Hood territory), asking a similar question from a very different perspective. It wasn't windy and cold that day, but internally it was an everlasting winter. I was in a very dark place. There was no sense that God was a God of goodness and blessing at all and nothing felt certain. 15 years ago, I asked God in that field, 'If you love me, why does your love feel like hate?'

Every day seemed hopeless. God's goodness? More or less entirely absent. There was no sense of the proverbial 'light at the end of the tunnel.' I'd seen enough in the past to know that God was likely somewhere. But the situation I was in felt nightmareish. And those past experiences felt very disconnected from what I was facing. One of the scriptures that saw me through that time was a verse from Job 30:20. " I cry to you and you do not answer me; I stand, and you merely look at me." In the book, Job has lost family, health and wealth and continuing to resist the temptations of his 'friends' to blame his suffering on his sin. Job instead complains to God. But God is silent. Which was also how God seemed to me: entirely absent. I didn't know what was going on and nothing made sense.

All those years ago, I was longing for a single day of sunshine. The spiritual equivalent of just one red kite. I held on, I didn't know the way and I wasn't sure how change was possible. [ Sometimes my stubborness has been useful.] Mercifully, I had a community of lovely people who held space for me and prayed with me, when I had no words.

A Slow Dawn

Eventually, very slowly, after difficult wrestling and decisions, dawn emerged. Slowly, steadily. In all kinds of ways. Spiritual work is hard work. There were lots of angry prayers, which puts me in good company with the Psalms and various other biblical passages. There was the work of voicing the things inside that most of us would really rather ignore. Spiritual work is laboursome work. Doing what I could, when I could. Keeping on moving forward, even when I wasn't sure why. Dawn came. I was on silent retreat at Taize, in the south of France, when in prayer I encountered what I can only describe as the presence of the risen Christ, kneeling before me. He was reaching out his hand and saying the words Jesus said to his disciples on the sea of Galilee in Matthew 14:27: ‘ Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid .’ The disciples were out fishing in a storm and Jesus came to them, walking on the water. They feared for their lives. When they saw Jesus they assumed he was a ghost. But there He was. And I wept.

In ways that I cannot really sum on a blog, I realised he had been there all along, right in the heart of the storm. I could never have seen it or understood it. Yet that's where he was.

Fast-forward to my walk on a dreary weekend in 2026 and an absence of red kites. Today most days are sunny and only occasionally does God seem absent. Words cannot really capture not just the gratitude but the miracle of seeing what God has done. And I know that even if I found myself in a similar dark place this week, month, or even for a lengthy season, I know that light will come into darkness. I know that even if it doesn't feel like it, seem like it, and experience points in the other direction: God really is good. I do not always understand Him or His ways. I have many questions for when we come face-to-face, but He has not forgotten me. Light will dawn. Red kites will soar.

If you're in the endless tunnel of darkness: you are not alone. There are no easy fixes. There's no magic cure. The saints throughout history know this. But hold on. It might seem ludicrously impossible and implausible to say: but the best is yet to come.

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Photo by Doncoombez on Unsplash

Going All In Is Not Always the Answer

Sat, 24 Jan 2026 13:11:57 GMT

A reflection on muscle memory, middle aged sports-playing, and what a non-contact game might have to teach me about how to live life.

A couple of weeks ago, I played netball for the first time in roughly 25 years. I’d been considering trying some kind of sport again after longstanding health issues. Then I discovered we have a local netball team in our village, and that it was only a five-minute walk from our house. It seemed too convenient not to give it a go.

So I went. On a rainy Tuesday evening after work, I put on some sports-appropriate clothing, donned a coat, and walked the two-blocks to the park.

For those reading this in Texas, or other places where netball doesn't really exist, imagine a game that is a bit like basketball but you can’t move with the ball and different players are confined to different areas of the court.

They are a fun group of women. It’s a mix of competitive and recreational, so all are welcome. While younger me would have firmly been in the former group, the present me is definitely the latter. It’s too much adrenaline to play team sports competitively (in truth, I can’t even watch England team sports any more because I find it too stressful).

As for my performance, it turns out I wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I have some transferable skills! Throughout my life I’ve played football/soccer and I’ve only ever been a goalkeeper. So, I know how to throw, I know how to catch, and from years of yelling at my defence to sort themselves out I know a bit about creating space on-field. It felt good!

My first go at netball in the middle of my life was, dare I say it, fun.

However, there was one issue.

Netball is a firmly non-contact sport: you have to maintain at least 1m distance from players you’re attempting to block. Now, anyone who has played football/soccer (or seen me play), knows that goalkeepers are only effective if they fully commit. Go all in.

I have, throughout my football-playing career, fully embraced this role. I have had numerous injuries to prove it. That penalty box area was my domain and woe-betide any opposing striker or midfielder who tried to enter it. It’s an occupational hazard: as a goalkeeper you are the last line of defence. Of course you should give everything. (I will confess, I gave so much I had a very close friend and teammate who once confessed she was a bit scared of me on-field.)

But netball? Netball is firmly non-contact. So, my first time training with my village team resulted in a couple of whistles being blown in my direction. The first time, it didn’t even occur to me that I’d done anything wrong! The second time, I was also surprised, but beginning to realise there was an element to this game I wasn’t quite getting.

In fact, having to face the referee’s whistle felt wrong to every fibre in my being. My training tells me: if you’re going to commit, commit. If you’re going to defend, defend. Restraint is not a part of it. Go all in.

Now mercifully, I have come a long, long way from my goalkeeping days even though it’s still written into my muscle memory to give everything. I really did enjoy playing. By the end of the training, I left happy if sore and bloody. While it’s not a contact sport, I gave my all to a long pass, wiped out, and managed to graze both legs through my leggings!

As I walked home, I pondered : will I go back? It’s convenient, local, they’re a friendly bunch, and I did pretty well, considering. But on the other hand, do I really want to re-learn how to play a non-contact sport? What if I'm mediocre? Can I unlearn old habits? Aren’t I too old and my muscle memory too ingrained? As a teenager, I was pretty good at all the sports I played. Never the top athlete, but good enough to be valuable. I’m in my 40s now and it’s a different story. Do I want to face that I have some things to learn about boundaries, limits, and playing for the good of the team?

My answer is, I think, that I do. Because life is much more like netball than it is being a goalkeeper. As a goalie my mentality was that everything depends on me (because it often does) and if I don’t get it right, we’ll concede a goal (which is often true). So I would go all in and not worry about the consequences. But I’ve come to learn that life is more like netball. It’s a team game. I have a part to play, but there are also parts that are not mine. And there are limits on what I can do to succeed. Games might be lost. The opposition might score. And that’s okay. At the end of the day, it’s not the winning that matters, but that I have lived well and been faithful with the role I’ve been given to play.

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Photo by Glen Carrie on Unsplash

Want to be Left Behind? You Should! (Matthew 24)

Wed, 21 Jan 2026 10:29:49 GMT

I challenged myself yesterday: whatever the reading in the lectionary tomorrow, I will write a blog post about it. The reading was the second half of Matthew 24. So here goes…

" Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. " (Mat 24:40)

I wonder where you’ve heard these words before. It wasn’t till I lived in the States that I realised how associated they are with some ideas about the end of the world and what is popularly known as ‘rapture theory.’ This theory has lots of details to it, but one fundamental premise is that it claims that this verse points to how Jesus will return and rescue his faithful followers from the suffering on earth. “One will be taken, one will remain.”

According to rapture theory, you want to be taken. You don’t want to be left behind. The problem is, the reverse is really the point. Jesus isn’t going to abandon the world. He loves it! He’s going to redeem it. Out of the two options, it's those who are taken who are receiving judgement. [1]

The question is: do we want to be part of that?

Jesus then tells a parable of two slaves who are left in charge while their Master is gone. One responds well and does the work he’s been charged to do. He seeks to feed the other slaves and give everyone their fair share. He serves those around him (v.45-46). [2] The other one? Not so much. Notice what it says in v.49: he begins to beat his fellow slaves. His peers. He indulges his stomach with whatever he likes. He cares only about himself. In sum:

Abandoning the Master looks like taking to violence and excess against people around us. Following our own desires and getting what we want, at the cost of those around us.

Being ready for the Master looks like caring more about those around us than we do our own ambitions and appetites. It means humbling ourselves and showing up for our neighbour. This is the call on those of us who call ourselves Christian . To be the ones our Lord commends and not condemns mean we do this work today.

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The world is not an easy place to be these days. One of the reasons my blog has been quite quiet this month is because of that. As a child, I thought any adult who wanted to could change the whole world for the better. As an adult, I know I can’t.

But I can make changes to my corner of it. I can take stock of my own life, my own choices, my own faith (or lack of it). I can identify whether I am more like the faithful slave or more like the rebellious one. The truth is we all have the propensity to both, but by the grace shown in the Cross and the presence of the Holy Spirit, we can become servants of God who love our neighbours sacrificially. I can love my neighbour—even when they're my enemy—and meet their needs instead of shunning them and seeking to satisfy number one.

"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' ⁴⁴ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, ⁴⁵ so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. ⁴⁶ For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? ⁴⁷ And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?"

(Mat 5:43-47)

This is the call of every Christian. This is the charge we have been given, regardless of what is going on around us, until the day our one Lord and Master returns.

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[1] To be transparent: I suspect this passage is more about God's judgement on Jerusalem in 70AD than it is a picture of eschatological judgement, but my application of it still stands as there is a persistent pattern to God's judgement and his call to those who follow him.

[2] English translations obscure the Greek here, which clearly ties the faithful slave’s behaviour to the actions of the one who will be placed in charge on the Master’s return. The NASB captures this best.

Cover photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash

The God who Comes Near: A Christmas Message

Wed, 24 Dec 2025 10:08:12 GMT

A Christmas message from reflection on the words of John 1 and what God has been showing me this Advent.

One of my favourite sayings when I was younger was “ not my circus, not my monkeys .” It saved me from many a stupid moment when I am prone to get over-invested, believing that somehow I can bring some clarity and help to a situation (when inevitably I’d bring more heat than light).

This Advent, I was struck by the God who is the opposite. The God who looks at his creation, his cosmos, and even his own people, in all of their waywardness, hatefulness and selfishness, and says, effectively “ I will embrace this circus, they will become my monkeys. ” He didn’t have to, but He has.

We are so used to the Christmas message, we often forget how striking this is. The holy God comes near to a bursting-with-sin creation. The pure and spotless God entering a filthy and wretched world. A loving God tenderly embracing a shame-filled and distorted humanity.

It’s not how we naturally deal with things. When someone is sick with flu or Covid, we don’t want to get what they’ve got so we stay away. When someone says something unpopular, they can get disinvited from events, starring in a movie or speaking at graduation. When something is broken, we too often throw it out rather than take the time to see what we can do.

Our human response to things that step outside of the boundary of what we consider ‘okay,’ at very least, is to keep our distance. Move on.

Yet this is not new. In all honesty, it’s the thin end of a much thicker edge.

About ten minutes from where I work is a road named Broad Street [ pictured above ]. If you look, you can find an unassuming square of cobbled brickwork in the middle of an otherwise tarmacked road. On this brickwork is a cross. On the wall of the college nearest to it is a plaque that explains what that cross remembers: the deaths of Ridley, Cranmer and Latimer. 16 ^th century Reformers who were burned at the stake for believing something different—and daring to speak about it. For challenging the religious establishment. They were rejected and executed by people claiming the name of Christ, for believing something different.

Who would want to lean in, show up, and do something, when the result could even lead to death? The temptation is to look at the chaos—the circus and its monkeys—and simply walk away.

But that is not how God responds. That is not the message of Christmas.

God comes near. Not in power. But in humility.

He moves into the neighbourhood. Even as he is rejected. Even as he is rendered a child refugee. Even as he misunderstood by his parents. Even as he is plotted against by the religious leaders of his day. Even as his own disciples misunderstand him, again and again. Even as the crowds that welcome him into Jerusalem would eventually condemn him to a shameful death on a cross.

"He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him." (John 1:10-11)

Being rejected by the world at large is one thing. Being rejected by the religious establishment is another. But Jesus was rejected by his own. His own people. His friends, his community, his compatriots.

But he came near anyway.

Why would anyone do that? Why would the Son of God draw near?

John 1 says it is to offer an alternative. A way out of the circus of crazy that marks our existence. Where we hurt others and are hurt in return. Where we try to bring about change but lose our sanity in the process.

"But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God." (John 1:12-13)

For those with eyes to see: he offers membership of a heavenly family. A heavenly community. The beginnings of a new creation. Where what is broken is healed. What is transgressed is forgiven. What is divided is reconciled. Where there is no hatred, alienation, dehumanisation or contention.

Not something marked by human willpower and its scars. But new creation and life borne of God.

***

The manger this Christmas, invites us to draw near in return. To see the God who has moved into the neighbourhood. Who takes on human flesh. Who shows us a different path to life.

Merry Christmas!

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Laptop Woes: A Sermon on Matthew 15:1-20

Wed, 10 Dec 2025 09:59:44 GMT

A sermon on Matt 15:1-20 given during Morning Prayer on December 10th.

Last week I experienced an event that many of us dread: my laptop had an (apparent) catastrophic failure. I was there, merrily watching a YouTube video, when suddenly, and without warning, the screen froze. It was entirely unresponsive. CTRL+ALT+DEL would not work. Nothing. Eventually I turned it off, but it didn't respond to any amount of cajoling for 24 hours.

We have c ome to depend on our technology and it is a scary thing when it fails!

Think of the joy of of opening a new laptop: everything runs so smoothly. Apps open at the click of a button. The boot-up speed feels like a nano-second.

Fast forward a few days, weeks, or months and we might tell a different story. We might find our laptop slowing down. Lagging. Maybe even a shadow of its former self. Now, I’m no tech expert, but I do know that unnecessary software, apps that I’ve installed, plug-ins and extensions—those things designed to improve my user experience!—eventually they can accumulate and become counter-productive. What was supposed to help now hinders.

***

This morning I invite you consider whether this might be a help way to thing about Matthew 15. In this chapter, Jesus exposes where the Pharisees and the scribes had created many ‘add-ons’ to faithful Torah observance. In fact, they had added in so many extras that Jesus accuses them of “ making void the word of the LORD ”. They had become hypocrites.

The first example of this that Jesus gives is how they have corrupted God’s command to honour and care for ones parents, Instead of directing people to follow God's instruction, the Pharisees and scribes ratified man-made oaths where people would devote their property and wealth to God. In doing so they were excused from their God-given obligation to honour and provide for their parents.

In the next breath—in the second half of the reading—Jesus takes aim at the Pharisees' man-made customs around ritual washing and, quite probably, food laws as well. Again, Jesus speaks plainly and pulls no punches. T hose who endorse these human traditions are the " blind leading the blind ." They are cultivating plants not made by God—therefore they are plants God will uproot (v.13).

***

So what's the solution to this religious hypocrisy? Jesus' answer is found in a wholly different place.

At the end of the reading Jesus draws attention back to what matters: the heart that drives our behaviour . Our insides. The centre of who we are. In v.19 he lists a number of actions—murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, and blasphemy—all of which come from that centre of our being. In saying this Jesus challenges them—and us—with the reality that real spiritual work is an inside job. It is found in addressing our anger, lust, envy, and pride. Not because the outside don’t matter, but actually because they do!

When the external religious customs of man get in the way of the work of God in our lives, gets in the way our obedience to Him, our obligation to those around us, then we are at risk not just o f a sluggish spirituality, a slowdown in religious performance, but maybe even a catastrophic failure.

No amount of software add-ons or plug-ins will compensate for our defiled hearts. We are in need of new spiritual hardware. A RAM upgrade or new graphics card (I realise I'm stretching my metaphor thin). And that’s a work only God can do. But that’s exactly the work He wants to do. And exactly the work He has made possible in sending Jesus.

So today, as you head into class and as you head into the rest of Advent: what you more concerned with? Your user experience and religious add-ons and customs that you or your church or denomination are so proud of, but may be dragging down your spiriutal life? Or are you attending to the work God needs to do within you and the need for a spiritual hardware upgrade?

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Photo by De an Sun on Unsplash

From Desperation to Gratitude: Hannah's Example (1 Samuel 1)

Thu, 27 Nov 2025 09:32:26 GMT

I've always heard Hannah talked about as full of grief alone. On closer examination, that's not the full story. This is my Bible exposition on 1 Samuel 1, exploring Hannah, how she moved from desperation (and anger!) to peace and gratitude, and where God was in it all.

Things I learned about 1 Samuel 1:

Hannah was feeling a lot more than only sadness: she was a complex woman
God "closing Hannah's womb" is difficult to understand, but the becomes part of how Hannah could trust him
God doesn't need our words (or our togetherness) to meet us: He loves our honesty

To read 1 Samuel 1 click here .

Enjoy!

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Photo by The Cleveland Museum of Art on Unsplash

How to be a Child of God: Matthew 5:38-48

Thu, 13 Nov 2025 09:36:15 GMT

I was struck by the lectionary reading this morning (Matthew 5:38-48). It's from the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus' most famous sermon, and includes the well-known "love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" line (v.44). What struck me, though, was the rationale and following words Jesus says (v.45 onwards). You might want to read it for yourself (click here) and read my reflection on it below.

Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you. And, v.45 says, you will be children of your Father in heaven. If we love our enemies, we are loving like God. Looking like God: becoming his children.

But here's the thing: sometimes we talk about love of enemies in terms of trusting that "God will avenge." God will bring the justice, we just do the 'nice' bit. Judgement is God's domain, love is ours. But Matthew 5 doesn't say that! It says judgement is what we naturally do, whereas God more naturally shows generosity. [We might consider Hosea 11:9 which has a similar perspective: " I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; for I am God and no mortal, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath." ]

All that to say... if we want to step into the likeness of God, we will treat all people with the same love He shows. In Matthew 5, that's through providing sustenance. He shows generosity to those who are wicked as well as to those who are good: he provides rain for them to be able to farm, eat, and live a good life [ for rain as sustenance see Isaiah 55:10-11 ]. God blesses their livelihood.

This is the “perfection” of this part of Matthew 5. To love friend and enemy the same. To provide for others, regardless of who they are. To show the same charity. Humanity. To not hold our enemies over a barrel until they believe what we believe. Or make decisions that we think they should make. It is not to love them because we know God will judge them, as though love of enemy were about holding our breath until 'they get what they deserve.'

Jesus makes it clear: love of friend and family is not the love of the gospel: that is a human, natural love. A love that all possess. But to love enemies, those “other,” those who present a challenge to us and our way of life? That is to show the love of the Father. The love of Christ. The love revealed in the Cross. The love Christians are called to live out.

It is, unquestionably, a harder love. It takes work to learn this perfect love. But it is the love we are now called to, as bearers of Jesus’ death and resurrection. No other love will do.

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Photo by Piron Guillaume on Unsplash

An Ideal Team? A Sermon on Nehemiah 3

Wed, 29 Oct 2025 09:57:38 GMT

Teamwork makes the dreamwork. Right ...? A sermon on Nehemiah 3 on just that topic, given at Wycliffe Hall Chapel on October 28th, 2025.

What does Nehemiah 3 (which is a glorified list of names of people who built the wall around Jerusalem) have to say about it from God's perspective? What team is God interested in building? What teams do we choose to be part of?

To read Nehemiah 3, click here . The gospel reading I chose to go with the sermon was Matthew 25:14-30.

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TEAM: Together everyone achieves more.

There's no I in team.

Teamwork makes the dream work.

There are many cheesy perhaps slightly cliched slogan about what might help motivate people to work together. But there's no denying that it's actually a pretty wonderful thing to be part of a team that works well together.

I spent some of my twenties as a secondary school teacher in Bradford and was part of a great team in my department: Richard, Rachel, Laura, Stuart, and Jane. We were committed to the vision: united in wanting to establish safe classrooms where our students could come in, where they would learn, where they would grow, and where they would succeed to the best of their ability.

Along with that, we were also committed to helping those who, in the study of religious education, started to have deeper questions about faith, Jesus and prayer. We worked with a local parish church, provided extracurricular activities and other things for those students that wanted to pursue a personal relationship with God.

We were also really committed to each other. Sometimes on the bad days (and there were quite a few of those if I'm honest) it was covering somebody else's classroom while they went to collect a student for detention at the end of the school day, knowing that if we didn't, the student would just head on home. But on other days, on the more positive ones, it was about sharing teaching resources and lesson plans and ideas so that we could all be teaching to the best of our ability.

As a teacher, I was pretty green so I spent a lot of my time writing lesson plans and figuring out how to teach what was on the curriculum. What I was able to contribute was not quite as much as my head of department and colleagues: but we all put in what we could and we worked together.

It really was a very challenging time, but a really special time and perhaps some of the best and most profound ministry I'm going to have in the whole of my life. (I peaked early, I guess!)

Nehemiah 3: A Strange Text!

Nehemiah 3 is a strange text to be preaching from. It is a long list of names of those who were involved in building the walls around Jerusalem.

But it's also a little bit strange where we find it in the book of Nehemiah. In the early chapters we have Nehemiah telling a first person account of how he learned that the walls had not been rebuilt, getting permission from the king to return, surveying the walls, being mocked by others, and beginning to figure out how this might be accomplished.

Then, in chapter 3, we suddenly turn from first person to third person. At some point, an editor saw fit to bring this into the front end of the book. Not only that, it's a little bit strange because it reports the wall is fully built. And yet in the next chapter, we're going to go back in time and the full building of the walls won't finish till a few chapters down the line.

So we might ask, why is it here? What can we learn from it?

I'm going to suggest this evening that we take a sort of a dual angled approach into Nehemiah 3, exploring the picture of teamwork it contains.

A Complete Picture of God’s People at Work

The first perspective, the first angle is one that reveals a pretty remarkable accomplishment for the people of God working together.

It's quite notable that here this chapter lays out step by step from north, west, south, east, and back to the north again. The whole Jerusalem wall being built—a completed picture from the Sheep Gate all the way around back to the Sheep Gate again.

But not only that, it's really interesting to take a closer look at the different names and people that we have mentioned. There's a range of professions involved. We have Eliashib, the high priest. We have rulers from Jerusalem and around and about. We have Shallum and his daughters. We have Malchijah who's a goldsmith. We have Hananiah in verse 8, a perfumier.

We have people from all kinds of different places? They come from Jericho. They come from Gibeon and Mizpah. They come from Tekoa. And some of them like Zadok in verse 29 just goes out of his house, crosses the street and repairs the part of the wall right across from him.

People from all over.

And we have people building very different sections of the wall. So Zadok, not only does he just cross the street, he only repairs that one section. In contrast the Tekoites repair two in verse 5 and 27. Binnui repairs two also in verse 18 and 24. Some had more, some had less, but everybody did something.

From this perspective, we see what we might consider an ideal picture of teamwork and what God's people can do when they work together to achieve God's purposes.

Encouragement in Working Together

This might encourage us—it probably should encourage us, right? It might make us think about other passages in scripture that speak to some of the same ideas.

We might go to 1 Corinthians 12 and Paul's message about all the members of the body of Christ having a part to play. We might go to Galatians 3:28 and think about how everybody is brought in and of equal standing. We might go to Jesus's parable in Mark 12 of the widow's mite who gave less, in our eyes, than everybody else, but in God's eyes? A lot more.

There's a real encouragement here that there is space for all of God's people in the completion of God's work.

And maybe that's relevant for some of us who are new to studying theology. We're three or four weeks in now. We might be starting to think, “What have I got myself into?” And we might be looking around at others thinking, “Well, they're more capable. They seem to know all the answers. They seem to have read all the books.” You might be wondering, “Why on earth am I here?”

But Nehemiah 3 reminds us that there is space for all of God's people in the accomplishment of God's work

A Less Cheerful Perspective

The second perspective that we might take to Nehemiah chapter 3 is a little bit less positive. It's a little bit “glass half empty.”

Now, the first indication of this you may not have noticed, and that is the mention of the high priest, Eliashib, right at the start of the chapter. Here, he is part of a team doing what everybody else is doing. Everything goes very smoothly.

But if you fast forward ten chapters and you go to Nehemiah 13, where he's mentioned again, we find a very different type of high priest. Here, he has taken sort of the equivalent of the sacristy storeroom, where offerings and grain and the temple vessels were kept, and he has emptied it out, refurnished it, and given it to his brother-in-law or uncle—some relative—Tobiah.

In the course of doing this, he has ceased paying the Levites their share for their work in the temple such that they have gone back to their fields. Nehemiah, needless to say, is pretty angry. It's a Jesus in the temple turning tables kind of moment. He throws the furniture out of Tobiah's room. He sees that the Levites have gone and complains, “Why is the house of God forsaken?”

But in chapter three, Eliashib is just here—part of God's people doing part of God's work. And it's a helpful reminder perhaps for us to not get too taken away with the ideal, too swept up in how well things are going, knowing that sometimes when you scratch beneath the surface, things start to get a little bit more complicated.

The Noblemen Who Would Not Work

Then we have the noblemen of Tekoa in verse 5 who would not participate, would not put their shoulders to the work of the Lord.

Why? Why wouldn't they pitch in?

We could speculate here. Perhaps their wealth had got to them and they'd started believing in their own status for their own identity. But there were other rulers and dignitaries who showed up and pitched in. Perhaps they thought Tekoa was a little bit too far from Jerusalem. And yet we know that plenty of others didn't have a problem with the distance.

Some scholars suggest maybe it's the proximity of Tekoa to Geshem, one of the men who was mocking Nehemiah and those planning to build the wall. But the rest of the people of Tekoa didn’t have a problem—they came in and repaired two sections.

Maybe the noblemen were just cynical that the wall could ever be rebuilt. We're talking over a century since the walls had existed. Perhaps they just did not believe that the disgrace of Jerusalem could ever be dealt with.

We don't know. All we do know is that they refused.

This is the only mention we have of them in scripture. The only point at which they are remembered is as a result of their refusal to join in.

And the language here I think is quite helpful: “They didn’t put their shoulders to the work of the Lord.” This speaks to the idea of being yoked, being humbled, being willing to carry a burden. We might think of the opposite as stiff-necked. These are people who are not willing to humble themselves and do the work that needs doing.

A Personal Parallel

A few years after I was first ordained, I was invited onto a regional church committee to address and look at some dynamics within church life.

I really did not want to do it, for various reasons. Partly I wasn't actually convinced that the vision was worth anything. I didn't think it was going to do what it was set out to do. I was a little bit sceptical, perhaps somewhat judgmental of the other people involved and why they were doing it. Perhaps I was also a little bit fearful of having my own preconceptions and perspectives challenged.

I didn't say no… but I managed to convince the person who asked me that I was ineligible. So I was disinvited.

Looking back, I can see that I was not willing to put my neck to the work. I was not willing to carry that burden. I was not willing to humble myself. And I share this not just as an example of the noblemen of Tekoa, but because it's really easy to look at pictures like this and see others in the noblemen rather than ourselves. Because the truth is, we can all have stiff necks and refuse to do what is being asked of us.

We can also be like the high priest Eliashib—wonderful on our good days and less so on others.

Two Pictures, One Truth

Side by side, we have two perspectives on Nehemiah 3 that might cause us to reflect as we bring those two together.

We have this beautiful scene of God's people doing God's work. And then we have a couple of individuals—a handful of noblemen—people with mixed motives or those who simply outright refuse.

With God, there is space for everyone. The only ones who are not doing the work are those who exclude themselves—the ones who don't have the faith, who won't commit, who won't pitch in.

With God, there is work for everyone. Everyone has a part to play, however big or however small.

For Those Who Feel Small

Like I said earlier, some of us may be sat here today finding this transition into theological college life a little bit challenging—maybe a little stretching.

If we've been called to ordination, we might be thinking, God, why me? I mean, I've answered all the questions, written all the paperwork, but seriously.

Well, if we are finding it hard, if we are wondering whether we belong, maybe we need to remember passages like this one. Maybe we need to remember the breadth of God's people praising his name in Revelation, the body of Christ in 1 Corinthians, and the people of God working together here in Nehemiah 3.

There's also some really useful wisdom in the saying, Don’t compare your insides to other people’s outsides. There is space for you.

And as I think Stanislavsky said of acting, “There are no small parts, only small actors.”

For Small Actors

But maybe some of us here today are small actors.

Maybe we have accumulated just enough knowledge to start believing our own hype. Maybe we have got some pretty extensive ministry experience that makes us look around and kind of see what everybody else is just doing wrong. Maybe we're feeling trapped and wrapped up in our own fears and failure and shame, not knowing quite how to do things any other way.

Maybe we are facing our own unwillingness to go where God wants us to go and do what God wants us to do.

But if the Cross teaches us anything, it is that there is space for small actors as well. The cross is a place where we can receive the grace we need to lay down our old ways and to take up new ones.

Our Lord is the one who can humble, who can soften hearts and bend necks, that we might take up his yoke which is gentle but life-giving.

Will You Pitch In?

So, wherever you are today and in this reflection on Nehemiah 3—wherever it hits home, whoever you are, wherever you’re from, whatever you can offer, whatever your objections and tantrums of today—there is space for you.

So, will you pitch in?

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Photo by Nakaharu Line on Unsplash

Why It Matters That God Made It All

Tue, 14 Oct 2025 07:16:21 GMT

An early morning video thought for the day. Enjoy!

To talk about God as Creator is not new. But did you know Isaiah has a lot to say about it; especially when we feel like God has left us in the dark?

Watch the short video below to hear more:

Logs or Love: What lens are you looking through?

Wed, 17 Sep 2025 12:41:50 GMT

I think I probably talk about the following a lot, but I believe this is still true and ever more relevant. The stories we tell ourselves are increasingly divided, continue to alienate, and frequently provide more heat than light. So here are some thoughts on reducing the heat.

The principal (aka dean) of my theological college (aka seminary) has been a remarkable leader in the church, Christina Baxter. She has been a great mentor to me and I am deeply grateful to her for her wisdom, prayerfulness, knowledge and straightforwardness. She has taught me to be a better woman, more trusting child of God, and more faithful minister of the gospel.

While in parish, I was able to welcome her to Texas and have her speak for a Lent quiet day. I still remember her discussion of when she was a young tutor and had a student with some rather obvious-to-all character defects. Her response was to pray both about how to address the issue with said student, as well as to pray for herself for clarity and awareness of where she was guilty of the very same defects.

Jesus said something similar:

"Why do you see the speck in your neighbor's eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' while the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor's eye."

(Matthew 7:3-5)

Attend to the log in your own eye.

In my experience, denial is so much easier! I have yet to leave behind a FB disagreement and not wonder what the point was. What was I trying to prove? Why did I butt in on a conversation or thought which, even if egregiously wrong, rarely benefits from being proven so. Especially in the “public” of the online environment.

In the moment, it is so much easier to point out the other’s wrong. Quite frankly, it’s far more obvious to me how other people are wrong than where I am. I can spot a character defect in someone else from a mile away, but my own? That requires more prayer, time and space than I have been historically willing to give. [Glad to say I’ve made some progress on that one though!]

Take time. Pray.

If I’m utterly convinced in the moment of how clean and pure and innocent I am (or are those who represent my views) and how wrong the other person/people are, I can guarantee that I’m not living in reality. Because even when the balance of wrong tilts away from me, I am learning to accept it doesn’t matter. Their wrong is their wrong. And it doesn’t excuse mine. Whether that is to be found in something obvious and visible to others, or my own subtler defects like believing I can change others simply by ‘being nice,’ pretending I agree when I don’t or not admitting I have stoked the fire of the other person’s point of view by stereotyping, dismissing or dehumanising them. If I don't take the time to pray, consider my part and deal with the shame and discomfort of coming face-to-face with my wrong, I am compounding it and choosing wilfull ignorance.

Just because another’s arrogance is overt, doesn’t mean mine is not covert, hiding in the shadows but claiming a pseudo-love. If I take time to pray, I give God space to show me what I don't want to see, accept it and turn it over. And be that little bit more free not to do the same next time.

And then you will see clearly (v.5)

But what I’ve also come to learn is this. Attending to the log in my own eye, seeing where I’m responsible. Where I’m guilty. Where I’ve contributed to the chaos around me. All of that does not mean I don’t say something at some point. It doesn’t mean I don’t say what is true. It doesn’t mean I check out from doing the good I can, where I can, whenever I can [ to badly quote a well-known saying ].

But by sitting first and praying first, I find some humility and common ground. I reach a place of understanding and empathy. I may still disagree, but I disagree from the place of loving the other person because I know I’m no different from them and they are no different from me.

They make different choices and their choices might cause me frustration or grief, but I love from a place of acceptance rather than denial and difference.

***

P.S. It doesn't all depend on you

One of the biggest lies in the world around us is the lie of urgency. We must act now! We need to say something. We need to be the ones to challenge or confront. We need to make the changes needed to bring God's kingdom in. But I genuinely believe this is not just a lie, but a lie with which the Enemey has won over too many believers. It is tyranny to rush. It is tyranny to carry that level of burden and responsibility. It feeds into an existence where we race ahead, not realising who we run over in the process. It results in people who run around trying to change the world, demanding changes of others but never realising where they themselves need a renovation, which is the only work we have any real power to do (and even then only in-step with the grace of God).

How do I know this? Because this has been me. I have rushed. Raced. Run people over (metaphorically). I have judged, condemned and dismissed. All in the name of Christ, which is to take his name in vain and it is wrong. [ There's a lot I could say about how we confuse what it means to take God's name in vain, but that's for another day. ]

Deal with your side of the street. Get honest. Get humble while you can. Turn it over. Then you will be increasingly better in loving as truthfully, faithfully and compassionately as you can.

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Jesus: A Confronting Dinner Guest (A Sermon on Luke 14)

Fri, 05 Sep 2025 11:02:14 GMT

Every summer, Wycliffe hosts a week-long summer school. This year, I gave the sermon at the opening Eucharist on August 31st. The reading was Luke 14:1-14: what I thought was a 'typical' gospel story about Jesus, but proved to be quite a striking dinner conversation on a closer reading.

Luke 14:1-14

1 On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely. 2 Just then, in front of him, there was a man who had dropsy. 3 And Jesus asked the lawyers and Pharisees, ‘Is it lawful to cure people on the sabbath, or not?’ 4 But they were silent. So Jesus took him and healed him, and sent him away. 5 Then he said to them, ‘If one of you has a child or an ox that has fallen into a well, will you not immediately pull it out on a sabbath day?’ 6 And they could not reply to this.

7 When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honour, he told them a parable. 8 ‘When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honour, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; 9 and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, “Give this person your place”, and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. 10 But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, “Friend, move up higher”; then you will be honoured in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. 11 For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.’

12 He said also to the one who had invited him, ‘When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbours, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. 13 But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. 14 And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.’

(And if you're interested in the Letter of Aristeas, which I mention in my sermon, you can read it here .)

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Photo by Jesse Vigil on Unsplash

Why study Scripture? A case for academic study of the Bible

Fri, 08 Aug 2025 14:15:07 GMT

Why study academic theology? Here's a few observations from me.

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I had a lovely lunch with my sister-in-law, Lola, the other day. In the course of all the various topics we were catching each other up on, I got talking about why I do what I do. Why is thoughtful, academic scholarship and study of the Bible important for Christians seeking to do God's will in the world? What's its value?

I didn't give an exhaustive answer to Lola. I'm not even going to attempt to do that now. But I think there are two pointers that are really helpful and are, at least, part of the answer.

(1) Academic study of the Bible is evidence-based. (We learn to see God (and his people) as He is depicted in Scripture, not as we want Him to be)

I've not been teaching at Wycliffe for very long. I've only just passed the 18month mark. But what I encounter quite frequently when people come to study the Bible for the first time, is how easy it is to read what we think the text says rather than what it actually says. It's really easy to do. So much so, we've all done it. I remember reading something a trained and locally-prestigious professional once said:

" The essential meaning of the Book of Jonah is individuation and becoming who you are. "

Really?!

That's a stretch by any measure. Jonah is more about the propensity of God's people to draw boundaries which want to exclude repentent outsiders in comparison to a God who is far more generously-minded. The book concludes with very little resolve--it actually wraps up in chapter 4 with Jonah still angry (angry enough to die no less!) and God asking a question about his right to have mercy on a city full of people and animals. It's not about individuation.

We are prone to bring things into our reading of a biblical text that aren't there. Even good, honourable and perhpas noble things. Yes, there's more than one way to read a story as there is any text. But there are also readings that haven't really grappled with what the text actually says and seems to miss the point entirely (and perhaps invent an entirely novel one).

Take the Book of Amos. It has very little hope. It's a rougher ride than any other OT prophet. It's largely judgement and doom-and-gloom on the people of Israel. Does that mean I believe God is all doom-and-gloom? No! But I'm not going to read Amos and pretend that it is something it's not. The Book of Amos is important. It has a lot to say that, if we are wise, we will listen to. Instead, I'm going to learn from the book about God's demand for righteousness, justice and equity from his own people . I'm going to learn to take seriously how abhorrent God finds it when his people take advantage of their position and oppress, marginlise, and dehumanise others.

The academic study of Scripture engages with what is actually there. Academic journals, books and articles have arguments based in the text, in conversation with archaeology, sociology, and anthropology. Things that can be weighed, considered and evaluated by anyone (regardless of their faith). This is a good thing! The Bible is humanly written and divinely inspired. And God isn't afraid of humanity, penmanship or literary criticism. He is the God of all and saw fit to take on human flesh. Dealing with the "flesh" of biblical literature honours Him.

So we can ask what is actually in this passage? What does the story say? What does the psalm say? What do the gospels actually say ?

Academic biblical studies trains people to think well [ side note: remember that thing Jesus said about loving God with our heart and our mind? This is part of it! ]. To read the text well. To set aside their preconceptions and see what's actually happening on the page. I could say a lot here about the value of learning Greek and Hebrew here, but I'll stop...

The long and short of it is this: it helps the Christian to read the Bible well. Not perfectly (we never escape our own situation and bias), but well. And my hope for every student is that they go away from class a bit more attuned to the details of the text and a little less atuned to their own interpretation of what they think it says.

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(2) Reading differently = living differently. (Or simplistic answers = simplistic pastors)

Learning to look at the evidence, consider the reasoned arguments of others and evaluate them (hopefully charitably) leads to a better reading of the Bible. Which leads to a better understanding of how God has revealed Himself (not how we assume He has). But I also believe it makes us better listeners and readers of the world around us . Of pastoral situations. Of opportunities for outreach and mission. Of our own faith journeys and spiritual growth.

I read somewhere this year a piece of wisdom that has stuck with me. It was about doing things like laundry or washing-up. It said " how you do the mundane task is how you do every task. " Or something like that. Probably a bit pithier. The point was about how we so often rush through the things we don't want to do bcause of an urgent sense we must maximise our time on the things we deem important [ side note: I'm guilty of this one... ]. But the logic is flawed. The truth is if we are faithful and diligent in the washing-up or laundry (or whatever other task we try and avoid), we are training ourselves in smaller ways to be faithful and diligent in the "urgent" stuff we want to spend our time on. We may not have as many minutes for those things, but we'll use the time we have far more wisely (not to mention, we won't be as rushed). We'll be better equipped for the work.

So how does laundry connect to academic biblical study? Well, learning to think well is learning to think well.

Learning to look at the evidence is learning to look at the evidence. Academic study of the Bible is an especially important place to do this . Why? Because it can make people better pastors. Because they'll think better. They'll engage better with evidence. They'll not assume they have the answers but be willing to wrestle with reality and reframe their perspective as needed.

Now, you might argue, if they have any academic degree, shouldn't that apply? What's so special at biblical studies? Great point. And, to some extent, I agree. But here's where people often get stuck. Academic biblical study brings together ones reasoning mind and personal faith into conversation. Someone can have the most wonderful education in another subject, but never have had to bring their faith into that conversation, so when they study the Bible for the first time, they struggle. [ This is not true for all people. I am generalising a bit to make a point. ] Academic study of Scripture is unusual in that it is a space in which people learn to think well in overt connection with things that affect and shape their faith.

When I first studied theology, as a fairly naive 19 year old, I found it hard to reconcile Abraham as a middle eastern nomad among middle eastern nomads with the Sunday School version of Abraham I had formed in my head. The Abraham I'd learned about at church was a borderline superhero. Now, I had top grades in my subjects at school. I knew how to think. Deal with evidence. But my faith had a lot growing to do. And it was in studying the Bible academically, that I began to wrestle these things out. I was confronted with something in my studies that, in turn, confronted my faith. It was a refining and growing experience. Learning to see the humanity in the text helped me see my own humanity better. It helped me see the world around me better. God's people aren't superheroes. They are painfully normal, broken and confused people. Dealing with the evidence of the text and history and then wrestling it out with my faith, helps me to be better at doing the same in the world around me. It helped make me a better pastor (and continues to do so).

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Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not convinced that theology degrees are all that useful in the New Creation. God cares little about anyone's educational status or intellectual ability. Scholars in theological colleges and faculties are no better than anyone else, morally, spiritually or otherwise. Some study theology but never let it do the spiritual work I've suggested above.

But let's not throw the baby out with the bathwater. Otherwise we could end up in a fantasy land where we create gods of our own imagination. We are minds as well as bodies and hearts. We are called to mental action as well as physical. To think well. And to be trained in our thinking. We each have gifts we have been given to use, appreciate and allow God to integrate within us. Why? So we can all grow into all that God has made us to be. We have gifts, including academic ones. So let's use them. Even if it's a little painful at times.

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And a shameless, shameless plug here... If you're interested in stretching your mind in this way, here are some upcoming possibilities that Wycliffe Hall are providing:

Forum in Houston, November 2025 - Wycliffe Hall Forum | WYCLIFFE HALL
Summer School in Oxford, 2026 - Wycliffe Hall Summer School 2026 | WYCLIFFE HALL
Study Week in Oxford, 2026 - Wycliffe Hall Study Week 2026 | WYCLIFFE HALL

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Why a Rock? A Sermon on Matthew 16:13-20

Tue, 29 Jul 2025 09:53:18 GMT

A sermon given at an all-age service at the wonderful church of St Wilfrid's, Calverley, on June 29th. The reading was Matthew 16:13-20: it was fun to work the film Labyrinth into a sermon on a very well-known text!

This is the full text of the reading (plus a little extra, because the story is best heard with it in):

13 Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, ‘Who do people say that the Son of Man is?’ 14 And they said, ‘Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’ 15 He said to them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ 16 Simon Peter answered, ‘You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.’ 17 And Jesus answered him, ‘Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. 18 And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock[ e ] I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. 19 I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.’ 20 Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was[ f ] the Messiah.

21 From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised. 22 And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, ‘God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.’ 23 But he turned and said to Peter, ‘Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling-block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’

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Photo by Nestoras Argiris on Unsplash

Commissioning Day Sermon (and first guest post)

revdrmcbay@gmail.com (Suse McBay) — Wed, 18 Jun 2025 15:04:41 GMT

Treasures in Jars of Clay

by Revd Will Donaldson

Good morning everyone and thank you so much, Michael, for asking me to preach on this wonderful occasion. It’s a real honour and privilege to do so! Some of you know that I was a tutor here for 6 years from 2007: it’s a joy to be back in my retirement on the chaplaincy team, alongside Jane and Bruce.

What will be your abiding memory of Wycliffe Hall?

It might b e lectures, whether at Wycliffe or in the Faculty, when your eyes were opened and your mind stretched to explore the heights and depths of academic theology
It might be the Focus mornings or the Study Weeks, with their leaning towards practical preparation for ministry, underpinned by parish placements and missions
It might be worship in chapel, when you experienced the presence of Christ in the singing, the preaching, the liturgy and the celebration of communion.
It might be your fellowship group, where you got to know a group of fellow students really well and journeyed with them through the training process, and they were there for you when you needed support
It might be the enjoyment of belonging to the wider community –
the chats over coffee in the Common room, or the discussions over lunch,
or the theological boxing matches in Fight Club (where no punches were pulled!),
or the more refined formal occasions like Matriculation and formal halls,
or our community notices on Tuesdays with the drum rolls and the gold awards and – not to forget - the Principal’s jokes (all under the pretext of needing to link things up!),
or maybe your abiding memory will be the Hall Photo last month that ploughed on despite thunder, lightning and torrential rain! How hilarious was that! An d you could spot the people whom Jesus would have called ‘oh ye of little faith’ – they had brought their umbrellas!

There’s one other memory that I hope you will take with you into your future ministries: it’s our text for this morning: 2 Cor. 4.7. - ‘ But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us’ .

Let me explain why I would love you to embed this in your heart as we send you out…

1. We have been entrusted with Treasure

2. We carry this treasure in jars of clay

What ar tefacts from the ancient world Paul is thinking of here?

Some commentators suggest the small pottery lamps that could be bought in the shops at Corinth, cheap and fragile. (This would connect with the Christian ministers being carriers of light into the dark places in v.6). Others think the analogy is drawn from the Roman triumphal processions when the treasures and spoils of war were carried in unimpressive earthen containers. For e.g., following the Macedonian victory in 167BC, 3,000 Roman soldiers followed the chariots, carrying silver coins in 750 pottery vessels. (And we know that Paul is fond of using similes from the Roman processions from 2 Cor.2.14 and elsewhere). And others just highlight the fragility of ordinary pottery vessels in Near Eastern cultures that were used every day for domestic purposes: storing, carrying, cooking, eating, and drinking. They were only expected to last a few years, at the most.

Whatever Paul exactly had in mind, what is common to all of them if the idea of fragility, vulnerability and apparent weakness. This is the Christian minister: no big shakes; no big standing or reputation; always a weak and fallen human being who get ill, become stressed, experience exhaustion, has relational fall-outs and periods of low self-esteem and self-worth. A jar of clay.

Paul is deliberately contrasting himself (and his fellow ministers) with the trumped-up claims of the Corinthian super apostles, who were consumed by their own self-importance. We are the opposite of that, says Paul: jars of clay, fragile, unimportant and disposable.

In Genesis 1 we were formed from the dust of the ground, and to the ground we shall return one day (earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust). And Jeremiah 18 reminds us that God is the master potter and we are the clay – He is lovingly moulding and shaping us into his people, so that we become formed into his likeness. We carry priceless treasure, but always in jars of clay.

Over 40 years in ministry, God has constantly reminded me of this:

sometimes it has been when feeling right out of my depth in challenging ministry situations;
sometimes it has been through my mistakes and pig-headedness;
sometimes it has been through anxieties and stresses over family matters;
sometimes it has been strained relationships with colleagues and staff;
sometimes it has been over disappointments and crushed dreams;
sometimes it has been financial worries;
sometimes it has been times of poor health or unexpected accidents (some of you know that I fell off a ladder last summer and completely smashed my hip, needing a full hip replacement…interestingly my new hip joint was a ceramic hip, formed from clay!).

But in each of these times, as we have fallen on our knees and said ‘God where are you? We’re really struggling! We need you so much – we can’t do this without you! And God has said to us: ‘ Remember you carry this treasure in jars of clay. My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness ’ (2 Cor 12.9).

There was a striking testimony of this last Sunday morning on BBC 1 - it was ‘a Celebration of Pentecost’ from Gas Street in Birmingham, a packed multi-cultural congregation of people, mainly under thirty years of age. And during his talk, the minister, Tim Hughes, shared the story of how it all began, 10 years ago:

"I remember the first day we ever gathered in this building to pray – there were nine of us. Gathered in this derelict building, we needed to raise a huge amount of money – millions of pounds to renovate it. I remember looking at this group of nine, and then looking at the enormity of this building and thinking ‘we’re doomed!’ How’s this going to work? I was so aware of my limitations - Rachel and I had never led a church before. How could God do something beautiful and extraordinary? But in that moment of desperation, we began to pray: ‘Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on us’…and what we have seen is that, as we opened the door, people began to come. As we prayed, people began to give generously. They started to bring their friends and we began to see amazing stories of transformation…many hundreds now whose lives have been changed as they have met with Jesus Christ in this place…God has proved himself faithful, time and time again."

Let’s notice the striking paradox of all this:

Priceless treasure in clay pots!

Eternal glories in frail human beings!

The revelation of Christ to the world through fallen people like you and me

Why has God planned it this way? That now becomes clear in the last part of the verse…

3. Treasure in jars of clay, that God might receive the glory

It’s so that the world can see that ‘all-surpassing power is from God and not from us’. Ahh! Now we see the divine purpose in giving this m inistry to weak, frail human beings like us.

Ministry is not about boosting our own little egos, about establishing our reputation, about making a name for ourselves, about building our own little empire, about being known as a great preacher or a dynamic leader or a renowned pastor or a powerful evangelist. Those ambitions are all out of place in Christian ministry for the simple reason that it means we get the glory instead of God.

No, the primary purpose of Christian ministry is the glory of God: that people see our good works and give glory to our Father in heaven. We went back recently to Canterbury where I had been at school, and we visited the magnificent medieval cathedral which is not only the focal point of the Worldwide Anglican Communion, but is also now a Unesco World heritage site, visited by hundreds of thousands of tourists and pilgrims every year. We also went after dark and it was beautifully illuminated by flood lights hidden all around the precincts.

Now, it occurred to me that nobody goes to Canterbury to look at the floodlights: sure, they have a very important role and they do a great job, but they are there to point away from themselves to illuminate the beauty of the Cathedral in all its glory.

And ours is a floodlight ministry: hidden away, hardly noticed, certainly not the focus of attention, but doing a vital role of illuminating the glories of our Saviour, and showing that the power and the glory belongs to him, not to us.

Charles Wesley expressed it so well in his wonderful hymn:

O for a thousand tongues to sing
my great Redeemer's praise,
the glories of my God and King,
the triumphs of his grace!

My gracious Master and my God,
assist me to proclaim,
to spread thro' all the earth abroad
the honours of your name.

We have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.

Amen

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Cover photo by Iraj Beheshti on Unsplash

Egyptian treasures: photo by Mary Harrsch on Flickr

Ascension, Star Wars and the work of the Church: A (Very Short) Sermon on Acts 1:1-11

Thu, 29 May 2025 15:19:01 GMT

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“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.

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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?

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Matter(s) of Integrity: A few thoughts

Tue, 13 May 2025 10:12:10 GMT

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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)

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Cover picture: John Everett Millais, Esther, 1863–65, Oil on canvas, 77.4 x 106 cm, Private Collection

The Lens of the Cross: A Sermon on 2 Corinthians 5

Tue, 01 Apr 2025 10:28:02 GMT

A sermon preached at the morning services of traditional worship at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Houston, on March 30th, 2025.

**The full sermon is also available to watch here , beginning at 29:15.**

A very English perspective

In July of 2012, in a conference centre in Northampton, England, I met my Texan husband. The conference was a four day long gathering of academics: theologians and biblical scholars. The first evening I went back to my room which I was sharing with a friend and I said to her, “Have you met this guy, Steve?” I wasn’t a fan and used words such as “loud” and “irritating” to describe what I thought of him. In a room full of mostly British academics, this particular Texan had stood out.

But that was just the first day. By the end of the four days, my opinion had changed somewhat. Words like “kind” and “honest” were more likely descriptors by then. And to cut a longer story short, 11 months later we were married.

I don’t know if I was looking at him from a human point of view when we first met, but it was certainly from a very specific English perspective. Thankfully, that initial judgment didn’t last.

“All that glitters is not gold”

In the play The Merchant of Venice, Portia is a young, wealthy heiress. In anticipation of his death, her father sets up a test for any prospective suitor who might want to wed his daughter. Any prospective suitors are to choose one of three caskets: one of gold, one of silver and one of lead. Inside the right casket would be a picture of Portia and should that box be chosen, the suitor would secure her hand in marriage.

The Prince of Morocco was one such suitor who came to try and win Portia for his wife. Of the three options available, he chose the golden casket. The one with the most extravagance and value. But, on opening the box, he did not find Portia’s picture, but a scroll which read:

All that glitters is not gold—

Often have you heard that told.

Many a man his life hath sold

But my outside to behold.

Gilded tombs do worms infold.

Had you been as wise as bold,

Young in limbs, in judgment old,

Your answer had not been enscrolled.

Fare you well, your suit is cold.

The Prince made his choice on the basis of the opulent exterior of the golden casket. He mistakenly was swayed by the visual. The exterior, and what it signified.

You probably know the rest of the story, or at least can anticipate it by now—not only was it not the gold casket, neither was it the silver one. The winning box was the one made of uninviting lead. That would secure Portia’s hand.

Whether we’re talking about wealth and aesthetics and the allure of a golden box or personality traits and cultural differences at an academic conference: we make distinctions about people and situations. Part of life includes assessing the data, either consciously or subconsciously, and then making decisions about how we will respond.

A radical shift in perspective: all have died

But Paul, in his second letter to the Corinthians, writes that being in Christ, being a follower of Jesus, means a radical change from this perspective . In chapter 5 verse 16 he writes

^“ From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way.”

We no longer regard anyone from a human point of view. A radical change in the way we look at other people. Rather than old ways of making judgements, now we are to see others a very different way: through a divine lens, namely the death of Jesus. The lens of the Cross.

What does that mean?

Well, that means not seeing people in terms of being more successful or less successful, or more attractive versus less attractive, but beginning with the simple truth that Christ has died for all, because all of us are dead to our sin. All of us are powerless to change the spiritual disease we share. What somebody has or does not have, where someone is from or is not from, makes not one iota of difference to this simple truth. In reality, the more we have, the more we can dress ourselves and our lives up in certain ways, the more we deceive ourselves from who we truly are.

And Christ died for all so that anyone who recognizes their spiritual powerlessness might live. We who were dead might begin again. Whoever is in Christ, gets to be part of that new creation. A new creation that has different priorities, different values, and a whole different way of being, bound together through Jesus’ death and resurrection.

Paul himself had gone through this radical change of perspective. Previously he had looked at Jesus and seen a threat to the faithful and a danger to the religion he had been trained in. Until he encountered the Jesus for himself on the Damascus road.

Paul got it. Yet some of the church he was writing to in Corinth were viewing Paul by human standards. Corinth was a city of wealth and prosperity with spiritual leaders and teachers of various kinds, coming and going. Perhaps they grew suspicious of Paul’s gospel because he experienced so much struggle and suffering, unlike other leaders in town. Perhaps the other teachers had bigger followings, better book sales or promised a more abundant or comfortable life. Maybe some in the church grew sceptical because in ch.4 Paul describes himself, and the other apostles, as “always being handed over to death for Jesus’ sake.”

I’ve never worked in PR or marketing, but I can’t imagine this was a particularly effective winsome strategy by human standards!

Yet a commitment to take up my cross and follow Jesus is exactly what I’d want from my pastor.

Why? Because that’s what I see in my Lord.

Bonhoeffer on the arrival of a new pastor

Bonhoeffer, in a sermon on this chapter of Paul’s letter, discusses what looking at others through the lens of Cross might mean when it comes to welcoming a new pastor to a church. Something, I think, that has particular relevance for you all with the news of the appointment of the new rector of St. Martin’s, who will join the church this summer.

Bonhoeffer writes this:

“A change of pastors is a situation in which we get stuck in our very personal feelings, but we should be encouraged to see something much larger, which does not concern persons at all, neither the old one nor the new one, but rather concerns the mission that is entrusted to both of them, no matter who they are. What matters is the one who gives the orders, not the one who carries them out, only the Master, rather than the servant…

For the congregation… this means that at this point everything depends on its being led to let go of the issue of the person and to look instead to the Lord of the church; to pay attention to the preaching rather than the preacher…”

Bonhoeffer recognised that with a change of guard—with a pastor leaving and another one taking office—there will be differences of personality. Style. Gifts and strengths. But within Christian community, within the church, that’s not how we are to view pastors, or anyone in the congregation.

What matters is not whether the new rector is an extrovert or an introvert. Whether he’s an ideas man or analytical thinker.

What matters is the lens of the Cross which levels the playing field between me and whoever is stood before me. Who we were does not matter. What we are by human standards is of no interest to God for we are all dead in our sin. What matters—the one who matters—is the Christ who stands between us.

The One through whom we are brought from death to life. The One under whom we stand united.

Ambassadors for Christ

In 2 Corinthians 5, Paul lays out a basis for seeing those around us in very different ways and not from a human point of view. Dead in our sin. Powerless to do anything to help ourselves. In need of a help from outside. A help that came from God in Christ who has reconciled us to God.

And so, Paul concludes: we are ambassadors for Christ.

God is at work through us!

It’s no longer Paul who lives, but Christ who lives through him. Paul is an ambassador. Paul’s credentials don’t matter—what matters is reflecting the authority of the One he represents by following the way of the Cross. He is a representative of Jesus. To speak and act on behalf of the one who wants to reconcile the world to Him.

Even through the lens of Cross, it’s still not about us.

In fact, what Paul says here is that because God has brought us back into relationship with him—because he has reconciled us—we now pass it on.

We’ve received this remarkable grace that has made us part of God’s new creation, that has given us life where we were powerless and lost. It would be the height of hypocrisy to then turn and start judging others when God has not counted our trespasses against us.

So those whom we used to judge, weigh and consider some better than others? We now see ourselves in them and them in us. We see the powerlessness. The spiritual death. And we share the hope we have, knowing that whether we’re Texan or English, or whether we’re the equivalent of a golden box or a lead casket, we were all corrupted from the inside out, but can all be made new in Christ. We know now that God is wanting to reconcile the world to him, so we pitch in.

Pass it on (or take God's grace in vain)

I know last Sunday, my boss at Wycliffe Hall, Revd. Dr Michael Lloyd, took this pulpit. One of the things that has struck me most about Michael since coming to work with him, is his kindness towards others. He fiercely believes that the image of God is present in every person he meets—that every individual reveals something unique about God if we would just pay attention.

And that example is a challenge and encouragement for me. An iron-sharpens-iron moment. Because while it might be easy to believe this stuff on paper, it’s harder to live out in reality. To show the same kindness to the person sat next to me in church on Sunday as I do the person who irritates me most in the workplace to the person to the neighbor I just don’t see eye-to-eye with. To see them all through the lens of the Cross, recognizing our shared weakness, but also our shared Christ-ness.

Where I don’t do that, where I start judging, weighing, counting some better than others, and others as worse than me, I am in danger of taking God’s grace in vain. Where the church in Corinth started doubting Paul, they did the same. Where a church shows partiality with an arrival of a new rector, they do the same.

Paul writes in v.20 “We entreat you: be reconciled to God”

Why does Paul say this to people who are already in church? Because they weren’t looking through the lens of the Cross, the lens of Christ. They were going back to old ways. Old priorities. Old gods.

Be reconciled to God. Remember your own spiritual powerlessness. Remember that you are no better than the person you most despise. For you too were dead in your sin, but made alive in Christ.

Get on your knees and remember that before God, none of us can stand.

But for God, none of us would be made alive.

And without God, none of us would have a gospel to share.

All that glitters is not gold nor human glory. And one day both will be left behind and we will be face to face with our Maker.

So, let the old things pass away. Look! New things are coming into being.

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Photo by Saketh on Unsplash

Repentance & the Coming Storm(s): A Sermon on Luke 13

Thu, 27 Mar 2025 13:24:58 GMT

A sermon on Luke 13:1-9 that I preached on March 23rd at Riverway, St. Martin's, Houston. (The video is of the whole service, the sermon** begins at about the 18minute mark.)

Luke 13:1-9

At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. ² He asked them, ‘Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? ³ No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. ⁴ Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? ⁵ No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.’ ⁶ Then he told this parable: ‘A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. ⁷ So he said to the gardener, “See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?” ⁸ He replied, “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig round it and put manure on it. ⁹ If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.” ’

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** To correct something I said in my sermon: while G.B. Caird was a wonderful British biblical scholar, he was not an Anglican but a congregational minister. Forgive the mistaken assumption!

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Photo by frame harirak on Unsplash

Reinhabiting our Story: A Sermon on Ezra 6:19-22

Thu, 13 Mar 2025 16:28:43 GMT

A sermon on Ezra 6:19-22, given in Wycliffe Chapel on Tuesday 11th March 2025.

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 My favourite thing about moving house?

When it comes to moving house, there are a few moments that I really enjoy. Most of it, I could do without, but there are a couple of key markers that I really do like.

The first is when, after all your worldly goods have been packed up and moved into the new house, you unpack enough to have a place to sit down and enjoy a cup of tea. Maybe even enough to have the TV set-up, so you can watch a show while you eat pizza and recover from all the hard work. A corner of normal amidst a sea of moving boxes and furniture. It feels good!

And there are other moments along the road too. When a room is completely unpacked. When the kitchen is finally organised enough that you can cook. Little moments of joy, amidst the chaos of moving boxes, as you establish life in a new place.

But my favourite is the one that might not come till a week or two—or month or two—later: when the pictures are hung on the walls. Those cherished items we’ve accumulated over time that are visible reminders of the key moments, people and things that have happened to get you to where you are.

Getting the pictures on the walls makes the house not just anyone’s house, but uniquely our house. The McBays. From the Mexican framed mirrors, ordination gifts, pieces of art crafted by family and friends. Wedding photos and pictures of places we’ve called home.

It’s not the Lloyds’. The Terrys’. Certainly not the Screnocks’. It’s our story. [ These names are a reference to the families of three much loved—and respected!—colleagues. ]

Ezra 6 and putting up pictures

So, I invite you today to indulge me in this analogy, which might be a bit of a stretch: perhaps what we have here in Ezra 6, and the description of the first Passover after the exile, is maybe just a little bit like the putting up of pictures on the walls of your home after a house move.

If you need some convincing, here’s why: because what we have in Ezra 6 is (a) the end of journey to a new home and (b) a visible remembrance of the story of how they came to be.

(a) Ezra 6: The end of a long journey

We have been on a long journey through first 6 chapters of Ezra. The oh-so lengthy recounting of all the names of all the people who made the trip from Babylon back to Judah. The beginning of laying the foundations of the temple. The complications and setbacks of getting it built. Finally getting it done, installing the priests and Levites and last week, having it all dedicated.

The next chapter (Ezra 7) jumps into the arrival of Ezra on the scene: taking us decades forwards in the story.

These verses are the close to the opening act. The end of a long beginning.

(b) Ezra 6: A visible remembrance of their story

While the reading today is just four verses long, they describe an important moment of remembrance of how the people of Israel came to be.

At the end of the journey back to Jerusalem, they celebrate Passover and the festival of unleavened bread. In doing so, they remember their story. The story of how they came to be a freed people in the first place, how they’d been delivered out of an oppressive and burdensome existence in Egypt. A story of a God who had heard their cries and struggles for help. A story that concluded with the first entry into the Promised Land.

A story retold again and again throughout Scripture. Remembered and rehearsed.

Importantly, it was not just the story that reminded them of who they were, but it was a story that reminded them of who their God is.

Ezra 6: A lot more than just putting up pictures

But of course, Ezra 6 is also a whole lot more than putting up cherished photos and pictures around your house, even if those pictures tell stories about the life you’ve lived.

Photos on a wall are static. They aren’t like paintings in Harry Potter which you can at least converse with. Nor are they like the chalk drawings in Mary Poppins that Mary and Bert jump into; where they get to go to the races and dance with penguins.

Pictures in a home might bring a smile to your face or a thought to your mind of precious memories, but then you get back to the business of your day.

But in Passover, the people embodied a story through a physical act of worship, though preparation and purification—and then through participation in the meal itself.

Through their observance of Passover, the distant past, the stories of their ancestors, became the story of the returned exiles . Remembering this story of God’s deliverance was a re-embodiment of the story where the God who did that for them now is now doing it for us .

Ezra 6: a diligent observance of Passover

Our reading is pretty clear that when it came to celebrating Passover, the people were diligent in that re-enactment—something that had not always been the case. 2 Chronicles 30 describes another Passover (during Hezekiah’s reign) that was a month delayed, with issues around preparedness and purification that left the Levites ashamed and meant Hezekiah had to plead for extra grace from God.

But not so with the returned exiles! Ezra 6 is painstakingly clear they didn’t make the same mistakes, but participating faithfully as God’s people and keeping the covenant he made with them. For it was observed on the 14 ^th day of th e 1 ^st month just as commanded (cf. Leviticus 23). All the priests and levites were purified and clean in preparation for it, right on time. Everyone present was fit to receive, and had duly separated themselves and become clean.

All of the priests and Levites. All of the people of Israel. Before the God of Israel.

Ezra’s Passover: diligent but different

Notice the conclusion to the account in v.22:

“With joy they celebrated the Festival of Unleavened Bread for seven days, for the Lord had made them joyful and had turned the heart of the king of Assyria to them, so that he aided them in the work on the house of God, the God of Israel.”

In the remembering an old story, it starts to take on new meaning. Yes, Passove is about remembering the story of the God who delivered them out of slavery in Egypt, but now they know something new about this God who delivers . He also delivers from captivity in Babylon. A captivity and judgement that was a result of their sin. A result of their idolatry.

I don’t know about you, but I find it much easier to accept grace when it’s for something that’s not my fault. I’m not a huge fan of asking for help, but I can usually get there when needed.

What I think many of us find harder, is accepting grace when it’s for something that is our responsibility. When we did know better, but we blew it.

Grace when I’ve been the recipient of injustice can feel quite different to receiving grace when I’m the instigator of it. When I’ve caused hurt to others. When I’ve looked the other way. When I’ve taken advantage. When I’ve acted out of fear, jealousy, shame or indifference.

But here the people of God were: now remembering both the grace God showed in the Exodus and rejoicing for their experience of God’s grace in restoring them from Exile. And not just in half-measure. A full restoration. A temple built where God would dwell again with His people. Grace upon grace.

God’s promise that exile would not be forever, that should they turn back and seek him, he would restore? It was all true.

And here they were, experiencing the fruit of it and seeing God turn the heart of the king to make it all possible.

He had made them joyful.

Jesus and the Passover

In the reading from John’s gospel, it makes it clear that Jesus is to be considered our paschal lamb. The sacrifice to be offered for us in our slavery. In John’s account in chapter 19, Jesus was crucified at the time when the Levites and Priests would have been slaughtering the lamb for the Passover meal.

A sacrifice for us.

It’s a story we remember in church every time we have communion together. It’s a story we’ll remember at Maundy Thursday services and Good Friday in just a few weeks.

But don’t let it be a story of your past only.

A testimony to unfold over a lifetime

I remember when I first was asked to “give my testimony” and wondered what on earth I should say, because I didn’t really have a “before Jesus” story. I couldn’t speak of a life without God. There was no radical conversion or spiritual rag-to-riches story that I thought I should have.

But over the years, with life’s ups and downs—and some pretty bleak downs at times—God showed me that the story of deliverance—the story of Passover, the story of the exile and the the story of the Cross—was a story for me too.

Israel’s understanding of God broadened and deepened as God continued to work with His people. It took on new meaning. It brought great joy.

In a few moments we’re going to say the Creed together—and what better way to remember our story? As we do, I encourage you to think about the story of deliverance God has done, the one he is presently doing or the one that perhaps you’re trusting he will do at the right time.

Keep faithfully, diligently, remembering the story God has given you. And by His Spirit, keep letting him bring more of your life into that story.

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A holy Lent and an unholy Bride?

Fri, 07 Mar 2025 18:04:31 GMT

Every day in chapel, one of our students gives a short, 5-minute, sermon on one of the lectionary readings for the day. This reflection was inspired by a reading from John 4, that was then wonderfully preached on by a 3rd year student (though these reflections are my own!).

Where do you go when you’re afraid and want to hide?

Do you roll over in bed and push ‘snooze’ on your alarm, pull the covers up over your head and pretend the world outside doesn’t exist?
Do you spend an age and a half perfecting your exterior, so that you can go into the world with the confidence of a well-put together outfit?
Do you try and be first to ‘go’ when there’s a debate or discussion, weighing in with your well-formed and firmly expressed perspectives, with an unsaid defensiveness that dares others to argue with you?
Do you shy away from taking risks, preferring to stay on the sidelines of life but envious of the fun being had on-pitch?

The Samaritan woman of John 4 knew about the value of hiding. She hid in plain sight and heat of the midday sun. Like dog-walking in the summer in Houston – collecting water in Samaria was to be done early or late in the day, when the temperature was more bearable and the sun didn’t scorch.

She had a well-planned schedule that kept her off-radar.

But then Jesus came along. And he asks her for a drink of water.

Like so many of us in similar situations, she acts out of her shame. How can Jesus ask such a thing? A Jewish man, asking for water from a Samaritan woman of all things? Like the Parable of the Good Samaritan, such a request crosses enemy lines. This is transgressive. And we haven’t even got to her personal relationship failures yet.

On the face of it, it’s about Jewish-Samaritan dynamics.

But there’s more to it than that. Remember: she’s at the well at lunchtime. He’s come across her right in the place of her hiddenness and shame. And to any well-versed listener of this story, the Jew-Samaritan question would be right up there at the forefront of their mind.

Why? Because Jesus is looking for a bride

The story begins like a hallmark movie. You know the ones where the professional young woman heads to a small town for the holidays. You know what's coming.

A story at a well is a patriarchal meet-cute.

Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob and Rachel, Moses and Zipporah. All of these matches came about through an encounter at a well. And in Isaac’s case, it was an explicit search for someone from the ‘right kind of family’ (i.e. their own tribe).

Here in John 4 we have a well. We have a man. We have a woman. Is she the one? No, she's not. Because she’s a Samaritan woman.

She knows it and she pushes back, protecting herself, but Jesus doesn’t let go. “ If you knew the gift of God… ” (v.10) he begins. Rather than get caught up in the politics of her question, Jesus says Look at me. Don’t you see?

Something that transcends the entrenched lines that exclude some and brings in others stands before her: “If you knew… you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.”

Caught up in the weeds

It’s so easy to get caught up in the weeds and focus on who's in and who's out. It’s easy to compare our insides to other people’s outsides and come up wanting. Yet we know the whole story of our lives, but scarcely nothing about other people! And still we see fit to compare, to contrast and to judge. The woman at the well had been on the receiving end of such judgement from her own people who thought they were better than her. So she had taken to hiding out in the beating midday sun to get her work done.

But here's the rub: have you ever tried to stop being judgemental to others or yourself? It’s not easy. It’s like trying to stop thinking about a pink elephant. The more you explicitly try, the more you see pink elephants everywhere.

Instead, may we should look up to the one who says “If you knew… you would have asked him…” Maybe we should worry less about ourselves/others, and remind ourselves of the one who gives living water.

"If we knew the gift of God, and who it is who that is saying to us,'Give me a drink.' we would have asked him, and he would have given us living water."

This is the truth: the bride ain’t pretty.

John 4 reads like a patriarchal meet-cute. But that's not all. This story is on the heels of the wedding at Cana (John 2:1-11) and John the Baptist talking about the Messiah, the bridegroom, being the one who “has the bride” (3:29). The whole thing is about soon-to-happen nuptials.

And the bridegroom did come to look for his bride. He came looking at a well. And who did he choose?

He didn't choose the one you'd think. Not a woman like his mother, Mary, but an excluded, shame-filled, socially rejected Samaritan woman who’d been with many men.

Of course, Jesus didn't marry the Samaritan woman. So why all this marital imagery? Because this is an image of the church that He came to redeem!

Jesus didn’t choose a bride that believed the perfectly put-together exterior she'd fashioned to hide a mess within.

Jesus didn’t choose a bride that had a great and virtuous reputation.

He chose a woman who was an outsider, even to her own people. And choosing one from her own people would have been bad enough!

He chose a bride he would redeem. One who was ashamed yet deserving of love. Broken but ready to be healed.

Desperate, alone and struggling in the heat of the sun.

Maybe that’s why Lent is such a gift

A friend asked me the other day what the purpose of Lent was. I think the answer is somewhere in John 4, because left to my own devices, I can kid myself into thinking I am nothing like the Samaritan woman--nor have I ever been. That I’ve somehow graduated the human condition (spoiler alert: I have not).

God has brought me a long way (and those who have known me longest know how true that is), but each day begins with the acknowledgement that parts of me are still broken and need of healing. Sinful and in need of forgiving. Lost and in need of being found.

Sometimes, I still hide in plain sight. I still can get defensive. I still focus too much on myself and not enough on the One who made me.

I’ve made progress, but perfection is a post-mortem business. The real problem is when I slip into thinking or acting like I've 'made it.'

So may your Lents be a gift where you start to peel back more of your attempts to hide, your inadequacies and your masks.

May your Lents be a journey into more of the real you that needs redeeming.

Because it’s then you’ll be ready (once again) for the bridegroom.

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Photo by Sinitta Leunen on Unsplash

Chariots and Crowns: A Talk on Zechariah 6

Thu, 13 Feb 2025 12:36:29 GMT

(To read Zechariah 6 for yourself, click here . )

Zechariah reads a bit like the OT equivalent of Revelation. But what's it all about?

In ch.1-6 a series of angelic visions are given to Zechariah, a prophet of God. The situation he and the people were facing? Life after exile. They were returning to Judea at the beginning of the Persian empire (late 6th century BCE). The people were facing the challenges of rebuilding life after facing God's punishment for 70 years.

The message of Zech 1-6 includes God's call on them to repent (ch.1), comfort that he would restore them post-exile as well as bring Babylon to justice for taking their imperial authority too far (e.g. ch.2).

The video above is of my 30-minute talk on the last section that wraps up the series of visions: Zechariah 6.

It has chariots and differently-coloured horses.

It's got crowns and an enigmatic figure named "Branch".

In short, it is not the easiest chapter of the Bible to understand, but it does still has something to say!

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Cover image: Photo by Megan Watson on Unsplash

A "Daniel Fast"? Rethinking Daniel 1

Thu, 06 Feb 2025 17:42:35 GMT

This term I'm teaching a class on Daniel. One thing we do together is read through the book together, chapter by chapter, focusing on what the text actually says and not what we think it says (as best we can, anyhow). The below are very much some thoughts "out loud" on what I noticed about what we read this week on Daniel 1.

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Have you ever done a “Daniel fast”? I.e. basically a vegan diet (and if you’re doing it Daniel’s way it should be done for 3 years).

It’s easy when we think about Daniel 1 to think in terms of very Christian ideas about fasting as a way to honour God and keep our faith pure.

But that’s not really what we find going on in Daniel 1. His fasting isn’t a spiritual discipline in the way you might have talked about it in your small group. Nowhere does Daniel say it’s about his inward, spiritual state.

So what’s going on?

Well, Daniel 1 spans the Babylonian exile. The first few verses mentions when God “gave” Jerusalem into the hands of Nebuchadnezzar in 600s BCE. The last verse mentions Cyrus’ rise to power in 539BCE.

In this specific window of time the story of Daniel and his friends takes place. In chapter one, being prisoners of war to some degree, they are taken to the king’s court to be assimilated into Babylonian culture. These young, good-looking, educated, wealthy and well-connected men become victims of political conquest. Given their background and nobility, they prime targets for some shrewd political redirection, a not uncommon way of controlling your vassal states and peoples. Training the young, still-pliable, ruling class men in Babylonian ways and customs is a valuable empire-building strategy.

So the conquering king, Nebuchadnezzar, insists all such Judahite men are gathered together and trained in the way of the Chaldeans (these were elite Babylonian wise men, astrologers and diviners). The king promises food from his table for their diet for three years: fine wine and choice steak. What a new way of life!

But these men are also to lose a few things in the process. First to go is their names. Daniel becomes Belteshazzar, Azariah Abednego and so on. They would learn a new language and customs which (presumably) would mean forgetting about those that came before. But if Josephus’ histories are anything to go by, they quite probably lost more than that as well: Asphenaz who oversaw their training was the chief eunuch and Josephus remarks that many of the young men brought in for training became eunuchs themselves. Isaiah 39:7 seems to suggest the same thing. So it’s quite possible the same happened to Daniel and his friends.

Their Judahite identity was to be stripped away so they would look and sound like their captors. All personal integrity gone. And quite probably rendered impotent in the process.

In vv.7-8 there’s an interesting little bit of wordplay: Ashpenaz “places” on the Judahite men their Babylonian names. Immediately afterwards, Daniel “places” on his heart to not defile himself with the king’s food.

They were being groomed for loyalty to Nebuchadnezzar and Babylonian life, but Daniel makes this act of resistance. There are different possibilities as to quite why Daniel didn’t want the king’s food, but it seems to me to be most likely he didn’t want to associate with the king. To dine with food from the king's table was to suggest loyalty to the king and was a sign of honour.

The fast in Daniel 1 is less about an expression of pure faith, but some courage (whether it was wise or not I’ll leave you to decide) in face of seeing the temple in which you worship looted, being deported to a foreign land and being enlisted in a programme that is designed to remove your religious and cultural identity and make you conform. Daniel's decision was an act of quiet resistance.

And God honoured it.

He gave those with the authority the grace to hear Daniel out and make it possible for him to try the fast for ten days. It went well, so they got to continue for three years. Not once eating from the king’s table. A diet of vegetables (or possibly legumes or pulses).

Daniel and his friends made it through their training fitter, stronger and smarter than the others. But their wisdom was not because of the food they ate. It was another gift from God (v.17). Yes, they were still in exile and remained there till until the end of the empire. But they resisted pledging loyalty to the human king who was their captor, perhaps knowing what the narrator revealed to us right at the start in v.2: it was in the LORD who gave Judah into the human king’s hands in the first place.

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Photo by v2osk on Unsplash

Work as if it all depends on God?

Fri, 24 Jan 2025 10:40:14 GMT

After another round with Covid in the last year, God has been teaching me a few things about work/life balance, being realistic about my limits and trusting Him in the process of it all (which is much easier to write about than learn!).

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" Work as if it all depends on God "?

Yes, I realise that’s not how the saying goes. But no, it’s not a typo.

“ Pray as if it all depends on God, work as if it all depends on you .”

That is the version we might be more familiar with. In other words: when you pray, pray hard! When you work, work hard! It’s some serious pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps wisdom. My adrenaline spikes just thinking about it.

But is this ‘wisdom’ really that wise? I think not.

The issue(s) with “pray as if it all depends on God”

Our prayer does not need to be a feat of strength to convince God to help us. Yes, there is a place for continuing, ongoing prayer and petition. Take the parable of the unjust judge and the widow in Luke 18. She pesters him until he gives her what she wants. But the point Jesus makes is that God is not like the unjust judge—he doesn’t delay in granting justice. Yes, we have to exercise patience and perhaps pray for things over extended periods of time, but that doesn’t mean God needs convincing to hear our prayers. He is at work. He is on His way. Consider the reassurance of James 1:7: “ Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change .”
Prayer is as natural as everyday conversation: it is not a sales pitch . Talking to another person, most of the time, is a natural flowing process. Unless we’re nervous, stressed or angry, we just talk. Say what we want to say. Prayer is as ordinary as asking your spouse to pick up a pint of milk from the store. This is where I’m at, God. Yes, there are times where our prayers may have us on our knees because we’re praying about something that really hurts or scares us. Prayer has range. It doesn’t need urgency. It needs honesty. And God is in the pause.
Yes, everything depends on God. But that was true before you started praying. (And God is aware.) Luke 12:22-31 reminds us not to worry because God has all things in his hands. Consider the lilies, the ravens, or the grass in the field. God was at work long before you existed and will be long after we’ve returned to the dust. Remember what Colossians 1 says about Christ as the image of God: “ He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. ” However dark or confusing the world might be, however it might seem as if God were not present: His work is not finished. The end of the story has not come.

I prefer “pray as if it all depends on you” rather than “on God.” Why? Because if it does all depend on me, I quite quickly realise I need help. It brings me to my knees. It humbles me. If I am called to loving action within this world, then I know I’m not qualified and need help. I can’t remember who it is or where this comes from (and I’ll probably get the details wrong), but it’s the story of the guy who on his busiest days would have to get up extra early to pray for 2 hours to be able to survive the day. To do the work of doing justice, loving kindness and walking in humility (Mic 6:8) demands that I pray and do so in earnest, because on my own my actions are anything but.

In short, pray as it all depends on me reminds me that in prayer I approach a God who loves me, a God has it all in His hands, a God I come to in desperate need of His help to play my part.

But what about “work as if it all depends on me”?

I have a beef with this one too. It seems like a holy sanction of pushing ourselves to the limit. I don’t see much grace in such a pattern and it chafes against the picture of work and rest we see in Scripture.

Take the commandment to keep Sabbath. In Deuteronomy it is tied to what God has done in liberating his people from slavery in Egypt and making them into His own people:

“Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the sabbath day.”

The Israelites had been delivered from forced, heavy labour and provided with a promised land to till and inhabit. Everything they'd been given was grace: freedom to work, a land to farm and fruitful trees they did not plant. Stepping away from their work in the midst of all this grace kept their focus and reminded them it all depended on what God had brought about. It was an act of continued trust of that God's grace was enough in their life and livelihoods. And all were to rest from work on the Sabbath, not just those in charge but their slaves, immigrants and even the livestock. This was a gift for all not for those that deluded themselves into thinking they deserved it.

“ Work as if it all depends on God ” makes much more sense.

Why? Because:

It reminds me I’m not responsible for the outcome . I am called to diligent, faithful work today, which contributes to the outcome. But I cannot control tomorrow. Disaster could strike. Sickness. The economy could crash. An ancient Israelite had no power over the sun, rain or harvest other than faithfully tending to their crops. We are subject to so many and changing dynamics in the world that are far above our paygrade. Thinking the outcome all depends on us is fantasy.
It reminds me of the God who holds all things in His hands . Work is part of life, but it’s not to be idolized. The salvation we have is about eternal salvation from sin, but also safe passage through this life. That’s not to say life is free from suffering (quite the opposite), but that life under God is to be lived by active trust in God. Work is part of the things that God gives us along the way, but it’s just work. Part of a much bigger, divinely-held, whole.
It lets me be human . I do the work I can do. I work within my limits and not even right at them. God is opposed to slavery in all forms, and that includes the kind that is self-imposed and self-driven. As an antedote to this, I heard of a great word recently: underscheduling . This is the idea that we ought to give ourselves space between appointments rather than cramming as much as possible into it all. It means leaving wiggle room for yourself: allowing more time than you need to drive to the store, do that project or to make that meeting. Rather than running our reserves down to almost empty and doing the most we can with as little as possible, underscheduling doesn't let the tank get below ¼ full. Life is a marathon not a sprint—and underscheduling is a way to pace oneself and (I suspect) trust God in the process, acknowledging we are embodied human beings, part of God's Creation and in need of breath, rest, and living within our limits.

Working as if it all depends on God invites me in to remember God is the one who brought me here, sustains me here and will take care of tomorrow. I do my part, but like all things: it’s ultimately in his hands. What grace!

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Photo by Spencer Scott Pugh on Unsplash

Practicing what I Preach... by Preaching what I Teach (An Advent Sermon on Micah 5)

Fri, 10 Jan 2025 16:21:32 GMT

I'm preparing a class on preaching different parts of the Bible (i.e. the Psalms vs. the prophets vs. a gospel reading... you get the idea). One thing I'm a big believer in is preaching the text as we find it in its context. So if it's an Old Testament passage: preach it so! We won't understand how Jesus fulfills the Law and the Prophets if we don't know what they say to begin with. Long story short: I came across this sermon from Advent (2021, I believe) on Micah 5:2-5. I don't know if I'd preach it this way again, but I did the best I could!

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Imagine living in a world far from this one. Imagine that in this world, people have grown accustomed to life a certain way. From the early promise of its dawning, the early years of this world had been full of optimism, but slowly over time, a certain darkness crept in, such that by the time you find yourself in it, there is a lot about which to be upset. Like so many worlds, this particular one has those with more and those with less. The leaders have increasing amounts of property and land and the people at large? Far less so. Some have an abundance of wealth, possessions and food. Many do not and live from day to day. Over time those with more took from those with less. They seized the possessions of those with few, simply because their greed was unbridled and they told themselves they deserve it. These leaders might be even described as cannibals, such is the way they fed off the people. And they have become so blind to their wrongs and indulgent of their desires they declare “peace” and that all is well when they’ve eaten a good meal… yet their serenity turns to relentless violence if they have to miss just one meal.

They give advantage when advantage is given to them – they’ll take a bribe here or there for friend or neighbor (if the price is right) and then give biased judgments to those who’ve padded their pockets. They use all kinds of tactics to cheat others for financial gain, to expand their portfolios and properties. And as their self-indulgence abounds, their consideration of others diminishes and they reach a place where anything other than co-operation with their wants is a threat to their sanity and liberty. They have greedy hearts and violent hands.

The religious institutions are scarcely any better in this particular world. Religious leaders have long since abandoned such concepts as integrity and accountability. They tickle the ears of the ruling classes with words that soothe and cheaply satisfy. And so those acting unjustly become accustomed to thinking God only has good things to say and not that they might be transgressing His law. They may have crossed the line between good and evil but no one has eyes to see it.

And then.

Then one day, you hear something awful is going to happen. Despite being so sure that God was on their side, no matter how they behaved or who was hurt in the process, God will seemingly abandon them entirely. The country will be invaded by a foreign people with foreign ways. The ravages of war will unfold in city after city. Places of worship will be burned down to the ground. Wealth will be plundered. Places of beauty and riches left in squalor and ashes. And the people will be left hurting, shaken and traumatized.

But… but evil will have been purged form the land. Those corrupt leaders will be gone—many physically removed as prisoners of war—as well as those of wealth and means. And what is left will be little more than rubble.

God will finally deal with the evil perpetrated by this people. Their corrupt practices will be no more. No more injustice. No more oppression of those with less. There will be no more bribes given nor false prophecies heard.

But the absence of evil doesn’t always mean the preponderance of good. So what will happen next? The old will be gone. But what then? Your country will be broken, desolate. And you could be forgiven for thinking God will have forgotten you.

***

And then you recall Micah’s words in chapter 5.

For as you’ve may have realized, this is not a country from another world, but the story of Israel. The people who God rescued from being slaves in Egypt and brought to their own country. The same people who then would not give Him the worship of their lives but rebelled against God and acted hatefully and unjustly towards others. And, yes, it was this people who were subjected to judgement through the exile as God gave them over to themselves and the hands of foreign nations.

Micah’s prophecies date to 150 years before this exile, and they describe the ways in which evil and oppression had become rife within Israel’s society. They anticipate the destruction that would come, and the cleansing of the land that will result. That God is not a passive bystander and will not let evil and those who participate in evil continue forever. That God is just.

And in His pursuit of justice, God will not only wipe out evil, but even as He judges and condemns the injustices, He promises hope and salvation for the faithful.

For despite however broken and desolate the land would be, Micah 5 offers hope. It says that something new, something different is on the horizon. Not just some THING but some ONE who would bring about a kingdom that Micah 4 tells us will be quite different to the kingdoms and empires we naturally build: it will be a safe haven for the lame and broken. And this Someone would rule them with generosity and kindness. He wouldn’t steal land or property from his people. He wouldn’t tip the scales of justice to advantage some over others. And this was no flash in the pan solution. This one was actually part of God’s plan all along, even from the very beginning. This anointed Someone would bring his people back to their homeland. He would be a good shepherd, he would feed and nurture the people through God’s strength. He would keep them safe and enable them to live lives in peace.

Even in the tragedy and hopelessness of all the pain to come, God had not forgotten to rescue his people. The hope of someone to save was not an ‘add-on’ or a consolation. It was always the plan—and it gave hope to carry the faithful through what was to come. He had not forgotten His covenant. His judgment was given in order that He might then establish the kingdom He had promised.

Yet those heard the promise the one to come in Micah 5 had no sense there was anything to worry about. They were still entrenched in their sin with most in willful denial, with Micah’s words of destruction seeming far-fetched and impossible to the life they were living.

But there were some—maybe just a few—who do listen. There are some who “have ears to hear.” There are some who don’t buy into the empty promises of the religious leaders who would say “everything is fine! You’re good as you are!” They hear Micah’s words that God is working to wipe out evil, and despite the horror they are grateful God is not blind or passive in the face of such wrong. They understand that evil is evil and sin needs confronting . But if they were in any doubt, these words from Micah 5 reassure that despite the tragedy that was to strike, God had not abandoned them. There was hope . God was not gone forever. God is still at work. God would be able to weave the exile into the tapestry of His work of redemption, a work which would be completed and renewed with the anointed one to come. And Israel wouldn’t need to be to be strong for this to happen – it would start in Bethlehem of all places. When everything gets to that place of desolation and emptiness, when the nations around them mock them and think that the story of Israel is over—God’s anointed will come. And so the faithful believer can say the words of Micah in 7:9 for themselves:

I must bear the indignation of the Lord,
because I have sinned against him,
until he takes my side
and executes judgement for me.
He will bring me out to the light;
I shall see his vindication. (7:9)

***

Now this may not be a very seasonal sermon to your ears. It might not feel like the stuff of the holidays or be showing much ‘Christmas spirit.’

But here’s the rub. Despite what all the Hallmark movies and pumpkin spice drinks you can down might tell you, Advent is actually a time to remember we are a people in desperate need of a savior. We act in evil, unjust, corrupt and self-indulgent ways. We all to easily corrupt the faith we've inherited. And while many may continue in denial and fantasy—that God looks on us and says we’re blessed because we’ve just eaten a good meal and our bank balance is healthy—the truth is often the opposite. For the only one who is ready to receive what we are offered in the manger is the one who has a growing distaste for sin, injustice and evil, is willing to face their own part in it and its consequences… and is hungry for the good news of salvation.

The hope we have in our Savior is that we can leave our corrupt hearts at the Cross for He has taken our judgment on Himself. We do not have to live in exile forever, we can come and live under the power of the Good Shepherd who will feed and guide us and show us His way, the way that brings peace.

There is immense hope for those who have the ears to hear. That God does not ever forsake or abandon his people—even in the depths of our rebellion. No matter what we’ve done, no matter who we’ve been, no matter how we’ve treated others, there is hope for those willing to lay it aside and place themselves under the rule of one who didn’t claim power for himself but laid it down for others.

So will we hear these words of promise from Micah 5 in their rightful context: hope that encourages us to be able to face the reality of our evil and injustice because we know that in it God will not abandon us. There is no sin so great that His mercy can’t overwhelm it. We can receive the Savior again.

God did not abandon Israel in their sin but offered hope to the one willing to listen. He does not abandon you if you do likewise. And I pray that as our Lord and Savior comes to us this Christmas, you will have the courage to do so, and see the promise in Mary's words:

His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;

he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.

He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,

according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.

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Christmas Message

Mon, 23 Dec 2024 17:38:07 GMT

A Christmas Message for wherever you find yourself geographically or otherwise this season.

I had a student come and talk to me about an essay she’s writing on Hagar in the book of Genesis. She noted the remarkable similarity between Hagar’s encounter with God and Mary’s (Genesis 16:11 and Luke 1:31, if you want to look for yourself).

But others are quite striking too.

I was held by the comparison between the angel’s appearance to Zechariah versus that of Mary. I’ve often heard comparison sermons between these two figures and the discrepancy between how they responded to the divine message they were receiving (i.e. Mary had faith, Zechariah didn’t). But what really struck me this time was the geographical location of their respective stories: Zechariah was a priest in the temple, Mary was a betrothed young girl in Nazareth.

What difference does that make?

Well let me set you a scene…

In the very presence of God, Zechariah wants to 'figure it out'

But Zechariah? In the Temple? Before the altar of God?

It strikes me that this just reveals the dramatic difference there is between the seen and known things of religion and an active and mature faith in God. If religious practice and habits we employ aren’t matched by a growing intimacy and walk with God, we can miss the obvious. Even when we’re the most obvious place in the world for them to happen We get too caught up in the details. We get caught up in the doctrinal weeds. We want to understand and “figure it out” more than we want to believe and receive the gift of faith on offer.

But faith isn’t about figuring it out. It’s about living it out.

In the back-end of nowhere, Mary’s ready to 'live it out.'

By contrast, Mary is in young virgin engaged to be married who is from Nazareth. Nazareth would have been a small village of about 200, maybe an hour’s walk from the much larger Sepphoris. It isn’t mentioned in the Old Testament. It wouldn’t have been well-known. Luke indicates this in 1:26 when says “In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth.”

Now no-one needs to introduce Dallas, Austin or Houston by saying “in a city in Texas called…” Everyone knows where they are. But how about Port Lavaca? Or Van Horn? They need a little more context. A little more introduction.

In Gabriel’s second appearance in Luke, he shows up in a very different place. From the holy of holies to the middle of nowhere. From the centre of religious worship to a unknown town.

I remember Stephen and I driving around Nottingham where we lived when we were first married. We drove through a very ordinary suburb. Not the kind of England you see on Morse or Endeavour or Christmas movies like A Very British Christmas (yes, we’ve just watched it). There are no cobblestone roads, historic pubs or fields of bleating sheep where we were. These were pretty generic homes in a pretty generic neighbourhood. People walking their kids to school. Waiting for a bus. Dealing with a flat tyre. Nothing to see of note.

Stephen turned to me and explained that since living in the UK, he’d realized this was far more the real England than the stuff you see on TV. And he was right. Nowhere-ville.

Maybe Nazareth was like that. Nowhereville, in Galilee.

It is here that Mary receives Gabriel’s message. A place you wouldn’t expect a divine visitation. And certainly not to a teenage girl about to be married. Mary hears she’s to conceive and bear a son.

And Mary, unlike Zechariah, believes. “How will this be?” she asks. She’s confused like Zechariah was, but she believes. And you know the rest of the story.

Where are you this Christmas?

There’s a lot of room for reflection here. I invite you to think about them for yourself. Where do you find yourself in this story?

There are lots of ways we could connect these two places. We could think about the two boys promised: one the last OT prophet in John, who would call for religious change and repentance in anticipating of the second, not a prophet but a promised one, God in the flesh, coming to dwell with his people not in the religious establishment but in the middle of nowhere and nobodies.

We could talk about those of us with long histories of serving in church, whether as clergy, vestry/PCC members, lay leaders, outreach workers or children’s pastors. How we so pre-occupied with the business of God we doubt the power of God when it is revealed. We could contrast that with those who encounter God in nowhere places, in their dreams and on the streets, that would challenge religious sensibilities and propriety.

But I want to leave you instead with this: God worked with them both. He had patience for Zechariah’s figuring it out alongside Mary’s readiness. He revealed himself in the Temple and in Nazareth. Perhaps the message isn’t only in the contrast but in what they share and they embody: God’s levelling purposes at work in the world. Zechariah’s doubt left him mute for months. God confounded his expectations and then shut him up. Zechariah was disciplined, humbled. Brought low. Mary was raised up from nowhere. Honoured. Now heralded as a figure of faith.

God works with us. Correcting. Disciplining. Humbling. Raising up the lowly. Bringing honour where the world might see shame.

My hope is that wherever you find yourself this Christmas, that you encounter something of this God. The God who brings down and builds up. The God who doesn’t rule in the way the religious elite ruled (then or now). The God who works in the hidden and the unseen and the insignificant. Let yourself be brought low by it all if you need to.

Be humbled by the scandal of the nativity where you’ve got caught up in religious practice.

Be open and receptive to the promise of a present God, even if you think you’re not qualified.

And be ready not to 'figure it out,' but to 'live it out.'

Merry Christmas!

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Photo by Rick Oldland on Unsplash

Making a Beginning (or the "Both-And" of Worship): A Sermon on Ezra 3:8-13

Sun, 24 Nov 2024 16:13:14 GMT

This term, in the Wycliffe Hall Communion services, we are preaching our way through Ezra. After a rather brilliant sermon on the VERY length lists and genealogies in Ezra 1-2 and a thoughtful reflection on the festival of booths celebrated in Ezra 3:1-7, I was up to preach on the second half of that chapter, vv.8-13. The full text of the sermon is below the video.

***

Making a Beginning

In 2017 my husband and I bought our first home together. It’s actually the home that we sold just a few weeks ago. But back when we bought it, we could see that despite the scratched and worn floorboards, the peeling paint, the old and dated kitchen—all those years where it had been a rental house—there was yet a huge amount of potential lying beneath the surface. And so fairly early on after we’d bought it, I took on the rather ridiculous task of removing 70 years’ worth of paint from all of the windows, the doors and the door frames. If I knew then what I know now about how much work was going to be involved, I might have passed, but I didn’t. We pressed ahead to restore the house to its original glory.

Over the course of two and a half years I spent weekend after weekend playing with different types of paint stripper and I got to discover the various tools that assist in removing the multiple layers of paint that had accrued over the decades. Eventually the paint was gone, but some residue remained: it was by no means finished. We needed somebody to come in and to sand everything down and finish the job. And I realized the task ahead far exceeded my skill set. So we paid a team to do the work.

I still remember when they called me in to look at the first window that had been finished. Seeing the wood grain come alive in these old pine window frames in our living room took my breath away. It was amazing to see the beauty of the house restored. Yes, it was just the beginning, but with the beginning I could see the start of what was to come.

***

In our reading from Ezra 3 today, the Israelites are in the process of making a beginning that will restore a past glory. They’ve been back in the land a couple of years, they’ve begun to worship and offer sacrifices and burnt offerings. They’re celebrating their festivals. But now they’re getting to work on building the temple itself, which begins with them laying a foundation. It’s not quite clear what the text is referring to here, it could be just that they broke ground or it could be they were starting to lay down some materials. But regardless of what was it was, we know some form of beginning is taking place. The cedar wood has been imported. The Levites are overseeing the job. And they’re beginning to get a glimpse of a past glory.

But this is not just the glory of restoring a craftsman house in Texas, or a piece of antique furniture, a classic car or anything else. This is about building a new temple fit to house the glory of God himself.

***

Awaiting the Glory of God

In v.11 we read that the people praised God saying: For He is good, for his steadfast love endures forever towards Israel. (v.11)

These words are said as the people celebrate what they are witnessing. And the priests are vested. They and the Levites have musical instruments in hand. They’re singing with call and response (probably with a little more than gusto when we pray the psalms antiphonally in chapel!).

For He is good, for his steadfast love endures for ever.

What’s interesting is that it’s these same words are used at the dedication of another temple. Solomon’s temple. In Chronicles, these are words are associated with the glory of God being seen: presence being manifest in the midst of the people.

We see it in 2 Chronicles 5, just as the temple is finished. The priests and the Levites have raised a shout. Instruments are being played. They’re praising God, declaring this refrain “For he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.” And then, the temple was filled with a cloud. The glory of the Lord appeared among them. And it was so over-whelming, the priests could not even find their feet.

A similar thing happens again two chapters later, after Solomon’s prayer of dedication. Solomon finishes up praying, and then fire comes, rushing down from heaven, consuming the burnt-offering and sacrifices laid at the altar. On sight of this divine deluge of fire from heaven, the people of Israel fall prostrate, face-down on the ground. And they give thanks to God declaring “ For he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever. ”

Here in Ezra 3, this time with the second temple, there is music, there is singing and celebration that they were restoring the temple, not for its own glory, but in order to house the glory of God. Yet they are not there yet. They’ve seen something of God’s faithfulness in bringing them this far, but they are just making a beginning.

***

The Both-And of Worship

Our passage today is just 6 verses long. It is not a long text. The book quickly moves on: the next chapter takes us into the challenges the people face in building the temple. But what I find so significant is that within this beginning the people are making, there is space in their worship for quite different responses.

Yes, there’s the rejoicing and rowdy celebration taking place.

But there are also people who are don’t feel so upbeat. People who are weeping. People who are feeling some pretty deep grief and loss. These are the folk that were old enough to have seen the first temple—who remembered what life was like before the exile and Babylonian captivity.

Why were they grieving?

Maybe it was disappointment that somehow they already knew the second temple would never be as grand as the first one
Perhaps it was the finality that despite the new and good things taking place, it meant the old things—the former good, the former glory—truly was over.
Maybe it was a culmination of their sorrows. The tragedy upon tragedy they’d experienced from the time of Solomon’s temple, seeing it destroyed and being taken into captivity in a foreign land.

We don’t know exactly.

But what we do know, and what I think is pretty remarkable about this passage is that gives us a glimpse of worship taking place that can be “ both—and ”. It can celebrate all that is good and mourn the losses. It doesn’t shy away either from successes and God’s provision nor from deep scars and aches and pain carried by God’s people.

“Both—and.”

I think there is a challenging lesson for us to sit with in this text, because sometimes worship can seem to presuppose what we should feel. Sometimes, those of us who put together a service can choose songs or readings or prayers that skew the reality of life and make it feel a bit like it’s “ either-or .”

***

I remember when I was in my mid-twenties and a dear friend of mine died of cancer, just past his 30 ^th birthday. It was a particular painful season for me, not just because of the loss of my friend, but also that he was the third of three people I knew and loved who had died far, far too soon.

I share this because it made participating in the worship in church quite difficult. Because unlike here in Ezra 3, or the breadth of the Psalms which capture the breadth of human experience, there was little space for sadness. The songs were pretty relentlessly upbeat, they all focused on the good of the gospel. But there was little space for bringing into worship our experience of the messy and broken world that God in Christ is redeeming.

I wonder if we as Christians can sometimes be in too much of a rush to the end of the story. Like skipping ahead and reading the last chapter of the book, we miss the how it all comes about. We forget that resurrection and life is only possible through death. We forget that what it is to live and die in a messy and broken world was fully faced and experienced by God’s own Son.

***

In these 6 verses, Ezra 3 gives us a picture of worship in which there is joy and sadness without differentiation. Literally! The noise was such a jumble, it was impossible to tell them apart.

Perhaps they knew that neither joy nor sorrow can truly exist without the other. That joy only finds its feet when we’ve faced our griefs. That the promise of joy is what emboldens to press onwards, even when grief and pain are real.

God’s people were making a beginning in building a new temple that might one day house the glory of God. And their celebration and worship was able to house where that brought about joy and sorrow.

***

The End of the Story

The book of Ezra and Nehemiah actually form one, longer book. And towards the end of Nehemiah, in chapter 12, we find the end of the story. The temple is finished and the city wall has been built and dedicated. The people again sang and rejoice loudly. Like in Ezra 3:13 where the cacophony of feeling was heard from distance, Nehemiah 12:43 concludes by saying “ The joy of Jerusalem was heard far away. ”

But what is different is that here, at the end of the book, the only sound heard was joy. There was no longer any mourning. For whatever reason, it was all rejoicing. No tears.

As Christians we know the end of our story will be likewise. The vision of Revelation 21 is of a new heaven and a new earth. A new Jerusalem in which God will dwell with his people. And he will wipe away every tear from their eyes. No more grief or sorrow or pain. All joy. But we are not there yet—so let’s not be in a rush to get ahead of ourselves as if the kingdom of God all depended on us and is not the work of God himself.

Life in the now and the not yet, is always in the process of making a beginning. We are among those who are the first fruits of what is to come. We are among those waiting for the fulness of God’s glory to arrive. The whole of creation is longing for that day. So in our worship, as in the rest of our lives, may we embrace the honesty of human experience found here in Ezra 3. The both-and:

Let us be unafraid to rejoice in what we know of God. What we have seen of his restoration already. When lives are restored. The lost found. The sick healed. The sinner forgiven.

But let us be equally unafraid to give voice—and space—to our grief. Where good things of the past that have been lost in the ravages of human violence and tragedy. Where we’ve experienced the damage and destruction of sin—ours or others. Where we have come face-to-face with the fallout of the messy and broken world in which we live.

We can both, confident that one day all will be well.

Why?

For He is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.

******

Photo by Scott Blake on Unsplash

What do we mean when we say God "cares"? Some thoughts on 1 Peter 5:7

Fri, 15 Nov 2024 11:58:55 GMT

“ Cast your anxieties on Him, because He cares for you. ” 1 Peter 5:7

This is one of my favourite verses in the New Testament, because it’s one that I’ve often read as an after-thought to the one that precedes it: “ Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time .” As a post-script, I’ve heard it as a hasty reminder that God is nice. And even nice to me. But over time, they've taken on deeper significance.

How?

Well, it started by thinking about what it might mean for God to “care”? The term is used by the disciples when the storm is assaulting their boat and Jesus is asleep in the stern. " Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing ?" (Mk. 4:38). Their assumption is that one who cares is one who acts to rescue those who are in danger. If Jesus is asleep when they’re about to drown, then he must not care for them. Similarly, in John 10, the hired hands are those who do not care for the sheep in contrast to the Good Shepherd who does what? He lays down his life for the sheep. His care is not a feeling of goodwill but it acts to save . [[ That the role of shepherds is to act to protect and keep the sheep safe is a point I was reminded of this week in an excellent critique of the responses to the ABC's resignation and the abuse and negligence described in the Makin report... but that's a blog post for another day. ]]

***

What I find most interesting and relevant to 1 Peter 5:7 is the story we find in Luke 10: Mary and Martha welcoming Jesus into their home. Martha is busy with the work of hospitality. Mary is learning from Jesus and remains sat as his feet, listening, which fuels Martha's complaint. “ Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me .” (Lk. 10:40) Does Jesus not care about the unfair divvying up of duties? That Martha has not just the lion's share but is doing it all . If he cares, then he should act and tell Mary to pull herself together and do her part.

How does Jesus reply? “ Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things, there is need of only one thing… ” Martha is worried and distracted. Just like the person described in 1 Peter 5:7, she is anxious. She is pulled in different directions, she has a lot on her plate and she needs help.

***

If we consider the Luke passage carefully and in light of 1 Peter 5:7, we can begin to see some of Martha’s willingness to trust Jesus. She is anxious (though she doesn't quite admit it as such—Jesus has to point that out). What does she do with that her fretting? She goes to the one she is coming to believe cares for her. Yes, she’s a bit demanding and pushy about it, but she knows Jesus is the answer. She knows that if Jesus cares about her, he will act. He will see her, recognise her struggle and do something to change the circumstances she’s in.

However, there’s one thing missing.

For 1 Peter 5:7 doesn’t say that God cares about us so much he’ll help us to manage our anxieties so all the plates we have up stay spinning. It doesn’t say we get to pretend we’re not anxious, that our life would actually be manageable if God would just provide the crutch or material solution to keep us going in our denial.

1 Peter 5:7 says we are to cast our anxieties on Him . Turn them over to Him. For Martha, that might have looked like putting down the pots and pans, cease chopping vegetables (or whatever it was she was doing) and give that burden of hospitality over to Jesus. The desire to welcome. The frustration that her sister was ignoring her responsibilities and taking the posture of a disciple. What if Martha had admitted it by physically putting down the weight of her frustration and angst and trusting them to Jesus? Trusting that maybe the world won’t come crashing down around her if she does. That somehow, in the letting go, things will find a solution.

***

To be honest, I’ve had one or two things happen recently where I’ve been forcibly reminded that God’s care is real. It's been a little painful. It only came through action I had to take, but that action only came because I hit something of a brick wall in my own efforts: I learned the lesson the hard way.

Yet whether learned the easy way or the hard way, I've been reminded that our anxieties can't be counseled into submission. No willpower will fix it. Instead, the solution is found through stepping out (or in reality, stepping back) and doing concrete thing that turns it all over to God. Things like saying no, admitting vulnerability, not demanding of others but actively resetting what my expectations are of myself. Saying things differently. Doing things differently. Making changes. Learning to embrace my humanity rather than fight it. It's been in doing these kinds of things that I have discovered once again that the world does not need me to live at maximum capacity for it to keep spinning. I don't need a caffeine-fuelled life (though I am still drinking an occasional coffee). It's in the letting go that I allow myself to be cared for by God. That I discover things will be just fine without me. And perhaps [ edit: by which I mean definitely ] the world will be better off as a result.

*****

A Sermon on Luke 21:5-19: "Keep Calm & Carry On"

Mon, 28 Oct 2024 10:26:45 GMT

A sermon given at St Martin's Episcopal Church, Houston, on Luke 21:5-19 on the Sunday following the 2016 election.

It’s hard for us to get our head around quite how radical a thought Jesus' words would have been to his disciples.

The temple at Jerusalem was an incredibly large and imposing building. It was a feat of ancient engineering, finished under the oversight of Herod the Great shortly before Jesus was born. In real terms, the temple itself was about twice the size our church building or about the size of an NFL football field. That was the main temple building and the inner courts. However if you include the outer courts the whole temple campus, we’re talking about the size of 28 football fields. Well over a million square feet. It was big!

But the temple was not only large in size, but it was also large in significance: it was one of the corner- stones of the Jewish faith. The temple was the place where sacrifices laid out in the OT were to be offered: it was the very place where atonement for sin could be made. It was God’s house: it contained the holy of holies - the sacred space in which God himself dwelled and into which only the high priest would go only once a year on the Day of Atonement. The temple was the sacred center for the hustle and bustle of the various different annual feasts and festivals. It’s design was given by God himself and it stood in the tradition of the great and glorious years of the first temple built by Solomon, when Israel was at its most prosperous.

And the disciples hear that the temple is going to be razed to the ground. They were more likely to expect Jesus to speak of the destruction of the Romans who occupied Jerusalem or the fall of Rome. But instead he tells them it is their house that is going to fall, an event which actually happened at the hands of the Romans in 70AD.

It was a hard thing for them to hear. But while they might need to have heard "keep calm and carry on," the first message Jesus gives them "keep calm and don’t be led astray." Many will come in my name saying ‘I am he’ – but don’t believe them, don’t follow after them.

Jesus knew that in the tensions leading up to the fall of the temple many would try and lead a revolution against the Romans, they would attempt to re-establish God’s nation and remove the enemy threat. These people would claim God’s name, say they were doing God’s work. They would have convincing arguments from Scripture to back it up. They would say that the kingdom of God was going to be restored and Israel would be a great nation once again. Jesus knew such a promise of restoration would be a very real temptation for his disciples in the face of persecution, suffering and hard and costly work of living out the gospel. The lies of these pretenders would be convincing and persuasive.

“Keep calm and don’t be led astray.”

***

What the disciples were only beginning to get their head around was that the kingdom of God was no longer going to be tied to a specific place, temple or nation. That only happened with one land and it has not happened with any other since. The New Testament tells us the kingdom of God is tied to a people, the body of Christ, those who confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. That’s it. False messiahs would tempt the disciples to embed their faith within the political hopes for a renewed Israel, they would promise that now was the time of God's fulfilment, but Jesus warns them: do not follow after them. Do not believe the lies.

It’s an important message for us as Christians, even 2000 years later. We are sometimes tempted to be drawn into believing that our political or cultural views and values are Christian views. We begin to put our hope in man-made systems, as though they will fix all our world’s problems. They won’t! Unless our hope is founded on God in Jesus Christ, we will never be fully satisfied.

It has been interesting, and sometimes disturbing, for me to observe my fellow Brits’ response to the Brexit referendum in the UK this year. It has resulted in some very real vehemence and animosity. There has been a spread of articles on social media that label and demean those who think differently from one another. Far worse, there has been a horrible rise in hate crimes and racist attacks that are an affront to the dignity and humanity of every person.

People have been drawn into disputes that demonise and alienate those on the other side of the politicla aisle. But whatever an individual’s political position, staying or leaving will not satisfy and will not solve the root issues. Many of my friends who voted against leaving the European Union did so because they saw it as a rejection of the peace-alliance established after World War II. For them, the EU stood as a powerful emblem of unity after the tragedies of the first half of the 20 ^th century and so they see leaving as throwing out that security and stability and rejecting our closest neighbours. A recipe for disaster and for future conflict. My friends who voted to leave wanted to do so because they felt so disaffected by the increasing powers of European politics and see them as to blame for many of the cultural problems in the UK and want a return to the realities of yester-year and a lifestyle that they no longer have. They want to undo the socio-political changes of recent decades and turn back the clock to, in their view, a better age.

But the truth is that neither staying nor leaving ensures lasting peace or security. Sin prevails at an individual level, at a national and international one. Wars will continue until the end of days: the EU will not stop the human condition which seeks power and military conflict. And uncertainty and change is an intrinsic part of creation: leaving the EU will not turn back the clock. We can't live in the past, no matter how much we might want to. Things change. So we give our trust to these systems at our peril. They will not save, they do not save and they cannot save.

***

I read recently read an article from a Christian organization, that speaks to the temptation to make an idol out of the strength and power we so often see in the institutions around us – and to even say they founded in God’s name. Rachel Asproth says this:

Christianity has often found itself on the wrong side of privilege. Historically, we have sided with empire too often to call it coincidence. But why?

It’s the oldest story in the Good Book. We want to rule—desperately. We have drunk greedily from the fountain of power since the beginning of time.

We went after power when we fell in the Garden of Eden. Satan offered Jesus the chance to rule over the kingdoms of earth in exchange for his worship. James and John asked Jesus for seats at his right and left hands.

Humans crave privilege. We side with empire because we want to rule. And the human instinct for empire gave birth to the oppression of women, to the subordination of people of color, to the demonizing of the “other.”

The powerful find great security in their privilege.

It was this weakness that Satan himself sought to exploit when he offered Jesus an earthly empire in exchange for his everlasting kingdom.

Jesus rejected the human instinct for empire. He chose not to rule.

Clearly, Jesus knew all about the human instinct for empire. He also knew a simple but profound truth: all empires fall.

So will ours.

The kingdom triumphs because it is no empire. It is built on equal measures of justice and mercy. It is ruled by a God who bleeds because his love is too big. [1]

***

The temptation for the disciples is the same one we face: we want power. We want control. We want to be in charge of our salvation.

But our God is not a god of empire, of power or of political systems. He is not a God who rules his people with a sword. Our God is a god revealed in Jesus Christ. One who emptied himself and gave up equality with God in order to lower himself to our level. A God who is known through brokenness and suffering. A God of the cross, put to death by Roman authorities. One who chose the path of vulnerability and marginalization for our sakes. One whose heart breaks in love for those who find themselves caught up and bruised in the machinations of this world.

There is no such thing as a Christian nation or political party. There are only Christian people. People who have come to know this God of the Cross who died and rose again for our sakes. People who are willing to embrace their own humanity and suffering in order to bring light and life to those around them. People who can own their sin, seek repentance and live into the forgiveness and life offered to them in the gospel.

“Keep calm and do not be led astray.”

***

Calamity was coming to Jerusalem and to its temple. It would strike fear in the hearts of the disciples. There would be many who would offer false promises of hope and revolution. Of change and a renewed sense of security. But Jesus tells them “ do not be deceived – do not follow after them. ” The coming false prophets do not represent God’s kingdom. For God’s kingdom is not one of power and aggression, of control and domination, but of sacrificial love that takes the form of vulnerability and humiliation. God’s kingdom forgives, reconciles and restores.

Whatever our backgrounds, gender, race, sexual orientation, or political preferences, Jesus’ call to each and everyone of us is the same. “Take up your cross daily and follow me.” Do not buy the message of the world that lasting salvation can be found anywhere but through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Do not make an idol out of any human, institution or ideology. [ How do you know if you have done so? If you find yourself in wholesale, uncritical agreement with any one of these things and cease having a voice of your own. ]

Do not believe the message of false prophets who preach a message of power and strength. The entrance into God’s kingdom is found in one place and one place alone. The Cross of Christ. There is no other way.

“Keep calm and do not be led astray.”

******

[1] https://www.cbeinternational.org/resource/feminists-take-cross-justice-over-empire/

Cover photo by Phil Hearing on Unsplash

New Sermon: Dealing with Frustrations (Phil 2:14-end)

Thu, 10 Oct 2024 09:45:47 GMT

A sermon given in Wycliffe Chapel during Morning Prayer in Welcome Week 2024 on Philippians 2.

I want to start this morning with a question: if the world looked at your character today, would they want to worship your God?

If an inquiring mind and open spirit who was looking for answers to life’s deepest questions got to know you, what would they see? If they saw how you react first thing in the morning after you woke up and before the first cup of tea or coffee of the day. Or when you have to wait for a family member or housemate to vacate the bathroom? How you act on the school run, deal with traffic, manage your workload or when you start to get tired or hungry?

If a curious onlooker saw your responses to life’s daily tests: would it draw them near to your God? Or would it be same old thing they always see in themselves, their neighbours and the world around them?

That is more-or-less the idea Paul is getting at here in Philippians 2. In v.14-15 he says:

"Do all things without murmuring and arguing, so that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, in which you shine like stars in the world."

***

If you want to find the foremost grumblers in the Bible, you don't need to look very long. They're there right in the second book of the Bible: the Israelites in the wilderness after being delivered from slavery in Egypt. Looking through the the biblical tradition, the Israelites didn't have a great reputation. They are primarily remembered as grumblers. Complainers. In popular culture we might hear the phrase ‘toxic positivity’ - well, the Israelites in the wilderness were the opposite. Theirs was a ‘toxic negativity.’

And toxic it was. Not only were they remembered for it, but their complaining is, in later biblical texts, associated with them as a rebellious people. Disobedient . Sinful . So much so Deuteronomy 32 condemns them as a crooked and perverse generation. Not blameless: but guilty.

Grumbling might seem superficially insignificant—for the Brits in the room it might feel like a national sport—but in truth it reveals some serious spiritual sickness.

And Paul doesn’t just say don’t complain sometimes. No, in all things: not just at work, but at home too. Not just at home, but also on the sports field. Or—and this is a bit of a confession here—when waiting for the reliably late S3 Stagecoach bus service from the Woodstock Rd to The Paddocks in Yarnton.

Do all things without complaining.

***

In my adult life I have spent a total of 7 years as a student in fulltime theological education. In the course of every one of those seven years if someone had asked me what’s the best thing about theological college, I would have said without hesitat ion: "The community." But, if they had also asked the opposite question, what’s the worst thing about theological college ? I would have also answere d: "The community."

It’s only Thursday of 0 ^th week of Michaelmas Term. We are a new community—new students and old—finding out feet. Hopefully, most of us are still in the honeymoon phase and aren’t yet at the hard work part; but it will undoubtedly hit at some point.

So what we do when we get there? When we hit the first frustrations of the year? When the timetable seems just too full, deadlines seem far too close, we get riled by a conversation over lunch and then come to chapel to find we are worshiping in a style that we just don't like? What are we to do?

***

It’s really important to know the difference between frustration and grumbling. Frustration is lighting a match. Grumbling is throwing it on a pile of a kindling.

If we don’t know the difference, we end up responding to the irks of life in a way that makes us like any other. We nurse them. We start telling ourselves a story about what the irritation really means.

We start assessing motives and interpret what's happened. We make it personal, about us.

Frustration turns into indignation which turns into anger which turns into self-righteouesness .

But when we do know the difference, we acknowledge the frustration, but put the brakes on before it becomes griping and before we get carried away with our version of events? The n, by God’s grace, the frustration becomes our teacher .

For it invites us to turn our attention inward and ask the question: what am I afraid of here? Why am I so angry? Or upset? Why am I reacting as I am? And where do I need God’s grace in this moment? What was an opportunity for temptation to sin, to rebelliousness and disobedience, thus becomes God’s means of redeeming us, building us up in our faith and teaching us to trust Him.

Why?

So that we might become blameless and innocent, and shine brightly like stars in the sky.

******

Photo by Vance Osterhout on Unsplash

"Why Worship?" A Sermon on Psalm 146

Mon, 09 Sep 2024 19:34:11 GMT

Sermon preached at St Martin's Episcopal Church on September 8th, 2024 on Psalm 146.

***

The title of this sermon today is a question. Why worship? Why take time to show up with other Christians? Why put in effort to be in community, to gather, to learn, to pray, to break bread?

There are many more interesting things we could be doing. We could be out to brunch or to play golf. We could be sleeping in a little longer, taking the dog for a leisurely walk or reading that book that sits on our bedside table untouched. Some days it takes a lot of work to make it to church—if you’ve got children you know how challenging it can be to get everyone up, ready and out the door on time.

So why? Why commit yourself to worship?

Well, worship is kind of like a spiritual resting hold in the climbing route that is life, played out one week at a time. It is a reprieve and a chance to refocus our life and purpose and anchors anchor ourselves for the week ahead. A spiritual reorientation and refreshment.

And one of the things we do when we worship is we praise God. We sing, we recite the creeds, we give thanks in the Eucharist. And Psalm 146 invites us to consider what it is about God that makes Him worth it—what makes Him worthy of praise. Of being at the heart of our weekly worship.

The Psalm starts in the same way that it ends: with a call to praise God. An instruction. Hallelu Yah. Praise God, the psalmist tells the people. And then he says the same to himself – “Praise God, my soul!” And not just for today, but my whole life long, continually. Forever.

BUT unlike a typical praise psalm, the rest of it is concerned with explaining why God is worth relying on in this way. Why worship on a regular basis, why make God the object of our praise? Why make the time?

***

The UK isn’t really into school reunions, but they can be really interesting occasions. As you get to see how time affects those you once might have looked up to, admired or even revered. I remember bumping into the most popular guy from my high school, ten years after graduation. The one who seemed like the A-list celeb of my peers, who had all the girls falling for him, great at sports, great at drama, great at academics. The one you might bet money would do great in life. Yet in just a decade, he had floundered. And my hope is that since then his life has turned around a bit and gone from strength to strength, but even it has it won’t last forever.

However great someone is, things change. Life moves on. And ultimately none of us will outlive the rest.

“Do not trust in mortals.” Yet it is such an easy thing to do.

I know that since June, you as a church have found yourselves in an interregnum – without a rector. It can be a very strange experience to have that particular office vacant. And it can take some time for God to call the next person to the fore. It can be uncomfortable and unsettling to sit with the waiting. It is not always an easy season. But make no mistake: in truth, it is actually a wonderful opportunity to be reminded of why we do what we do. Is it because the pastor is who we want them to be? Or a great preacher? Or do we do what we do because we love the One the pastor has been pointing us to? A season like this gives chance to refocus and keep the main thing the main thing.

However alluring, however charismatic, however noble—from our teenage years onwards—no mortal can provide the “help” we really need. None of them can deliver the security we crave and long for. For we all will fade. We all return to the dust.

***

Instead, v.5 declares: “Blessed is the one who makes the God of Jacob his help.”

The one to trust in is the One who made it all.

In the closing scenes of The Truman Show, as Jim Carey’s character discovers the superficiality of his life and is about to step out of the reality show into the world beyond, he meets Christof. The director-producer of the whole thing. Christof is hidden in a booth in the artificial sun that sits in the artificial sky that was Truman’s life. Christof gets to say when the sun goes down and when the moon will rise in the evening. He is the one who cast the actress that wooed Truman and became his wife. It was Christof that decided that Truman’s career path. Truman had lived his life one way, trusting in the people around him, trusting in his own autonomy, but came to realise there was a much greater power at work.

Psalm 146 gives us this kind of contrast--and more. Do we trust in the leaders and figures who are like actors that could be written out of the show any day? Or do we trust in the God of Jacob who is the director-producer of all of Creation, who hires the cast and directs the story? Who makes the sun go down and the moon rise?

Why make God the centre of our worship? Why praise Him our whole lives long? Because we have glimpsed behind the curtain of this world, we have seen the ‘more’ of the gospel, the ‘more’ of faith, the ‘more’ that is the God who made it all. He is able. He will not return to the dust. He keeps faith forever (v.6).

We praise God because we trust the One who is infinite not the ones who are finite.

The one building his heavenly kingdom not those building human kingdoms.

The Psalmist knew that Israel needed reminding of the difference between the two. And I don’t think the church is all that different. We get drawn in by our fellow human beings, we look to them to rescue us, to satisfy, at the expense of the One who made them.

***

But here’s the thing. It doesn’t matter how able God is, how strong, how infinite, if his heart is not in it. Who’s to say God is not like Christof – the director-producer of Truman’s life who exploited his humanity, and all of the most vulnerable moments of his life, and did so for profit?

Well, Psalm 146 answers that question as well. God is both able and willing and, in particular, he is for those who are powerless, weak and don’t deserve it.

If you want to know if God is willing – read through vv.7-9! It recounts the type of work God does. The activities he is invested in. Wherever you see the oppressed freed, the hungry fed, the foster child cared for, the widow provided for, the foreigner protected—this is God’s work, Psalm 146 says. This is where God’s heart is. He cares for those caught up in the wheels of injustice of the kingdoms of this world. Those who are powerless. Those who’ve faced exploitation.

“God loves the righteous” it says in v.8 – but more properly we might translate it as “God loves the innocent.”

I recently read in the news the story of Carol Higgins. She was raised in Yorkshire in the north of England and during her childhood she suffered severe and ongoing physical and sexual abuse from her own father. It took her four decades of effort, but in 2019 he was eventually convicted, found guilty and sentenced. (It took the jury just two hours to reach a verdict.) When she first reported it, Carol was told she’d be branded a liar and not to pursue justice. But she persisted. And today? Today she is involved in her local church and advocates for others, protecting the vulnerable in her community.

God upholds the orphan and the widow—those without protection, those without voice—but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.

The God who is able to help and save and rescue is the God who wills to help and save and rescue. This is the shape of His heart. The fruit of his labour. This has always been His way. From choosing the weak and powerless people of Israel, enslaved in Egypt and freeing them, to delivering them from their enemies time and again, punishing the people themselves when they had become the oppressor, to providing a means for all of us to be born to new life to fully live as God’s people and do the kind of work God does. That is why Jesus instructed his followers in the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats that “Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me.” As God’s people, we are called to reflect God’s heart. And God is in the business of providing for those who are powerless. Healing, redeeming, setting free.

***

Why worship?

Since my time at St Martin’s, one change has been quite surreal for me. I no longer work on Sunday mornings! It is no longer part of my job description. At Wycliffe Hall, where I teach, we do Morning Prayer every weekday and Communion together on Tuesday afternoons—but on Sunday mornings, I am free to go wherever Stephen and I choose to go and do whatever we want to do.

It has been quite the adjustment! But as Stephen and I have settled into our new rhythm of life and found a church to attend, I have found myself aware once again of just how important it is to choose to show up and praise God.

Commitment to worship, to prayer, to community, to praising God’s name and recalling his good deeds our whole life long? These things are for our refreshment, a weekly reminder of the One we are to trust in. A spiritual resting hold that refocuses us as to where our help comes from—and also where it doesn’t. A reminder that this help—God’s help—is for us not despite powerlessness and weakness. But precisely because of it. He is in the business of raising up the lowly and bringing down the proud. Setting people free and making them whole.

He is able. He is willing. And He’s doing it.

Hallelujah. Praise the Lord.

******

Political Power & Beasts from the Sea in Daniel 7

Wed, 28 Aug 2024 11:26:55 GMT

This is the first follow-up post to the "Is it the "End of Days"? Reading the Bible faithfully in the digital age (Part 1)."

Daniel 7: beastly powers and their rise and fall

So what is going on?

This is one of those bizarre scenes that is alien to many readers of the Bible. What is happening? What’s it all about? In short, this is about the power of God versus the political powers of the day. This is not about end-of-time speculation. Think of it more like an unveiling of hidden mysteries that help us see the world differently. Yes, it includes elements of future hope for Israel (and certainly there are many strands that are taken up and find significance in light of the Cross), but it also speaks to past events and all of it is really focused on shoring up strength in the present.

A few keys

Here are a few useful things to note:

The four powers represent the empires of Babylon, Media, Persia and Greece (who is the fourth beast). [Notice the references to Greece in the chapters that follow.]
The “little horn” that appears and has a face and speaks arrogantly refers to Antiochus IV Epiphanes, a Greek ruler who desecrated the temple as well as using it for its riches to fund his military campaigns.
The son of man figure is not a messianic prophecy, but most probably a depiction of the angel Michael as guardian angel of Israel, receiving dominion from God. In other words, he embodies the God-given confidence that Israel will one day be free of Greek imperial rule. [Notice how the figure is going towards the Anicent of Days and the heavenly courtroom. He is not coming to earth.]

So what do we learn about the powers in Daniel 7?

1. Political empires aren’t directly God-appointed

Notice the four beasts all come from the Sea. In ancient Israel, the Sea was at the very least a symbol of chaos and evil for its unpredictability and inability to be tamed by human hand. There is also good reason to suggest it represents evil mythological powers that oppose God as well. (There’s a long tradition in the OT of the Sea being used similarly to its appearance in Ugaritic mythology as the chaos monster who opposes the storm-god Baal). That the four beasts come from the Sea and that they are not animals but monstrous beasts, all point to being out of the order of God’s creation. They are chaotic, they oppose God (at least to some extent), although some are worse than others, i.e. beasty number 4.

2. Political empires are God-permitted

In this little chapter, although the empires come from the Sea, that is not to say God does not permit them to exist and make allowance for them. Yes, when the Ancient of Days appears, the 4 ^th beast is destroyed and the others have their dominion taken away, but they are allowed to exist for a time (see v.12). We later learn that even though the 4 ^th beast is at war with God’s holy ones, his time isn’t up yet—he will be permitted to continue for “a time, two times and half a time” (v.25). God will act, even if the moment is not when we would want it. Time is important in God's economy—the appointed time for things to happen. As humans we are bound by chronological time (and the ageing that goes with that). In Daniel 7 and similar literature the “appointed time” is important. [ See Habakkuk 1-2 for an example of how God uses Babylon as the means of God's judgement upon Israel, but not without limits, Babylon too will be held to account and have limits put on its dominion. ] And when the dominion is taken away and given to the son of man figure, he will have authority over all of them (cf. v.14 and 27).

3. Some political empires are significantly worse than others:

Not all imperial powers are equal. Some are worse than others. The 4 ^th beast, the Greek empire, was the one that perishes before the Ancient of Days and has its body handed over to be burned (v.11). Its life is not spared, as it was for the other three empires who simply had their power taken away but are allowed to live a little longer. Why this difference in treatment? Well, this beast is “different” from those who came before (v.7) with the emphasis on its arrogance (v.8, 11 and 20) and its intrinsically violent nature—it is terrifying and strong (v.7), it makes war with the holy ones and devours the earth (v.19, 23). Its “little horn” is similar and with its humanistic features reflects the whole: it will blaspheme God, wear out the holy ones and try to pervert their religion (v.8, 24-27).

[This "little horn" king tracks with what we know of Antiochus IV Epiphanes, whose appellation “Epiphanes” claimed that he was the revelation of the divine. He ransacked the temple to fuel his military campaigns as well as setting up a false altar in it and sacrificed a pig there. For more of Antiochus see 1-2 Maccabees and Josephus’ Antiquities .]

4. Political powers will be judged and will not last—for God’s kingdom will prevail

What is striking when you study these beasts up close, is that they never stand a chance against the Ancient of Days. This isn’t Darth Vader vs. Yoda. Or Voldemort vs. Dumbledore. It’s not an interaction of equals with a lengthy, drawn-out battle (as you would find in an action movie. For the record, Daniel 7 would make a terrible action film). For all the destruction the fourth beast wreaks, before the Ancient of Days it is utterly powerless. The other beasts may have had power, but they too are powerless when the Ancient of Days calls time and takes it away. And ultimately, although God’s people hearing the words of Daniel 7 are still facing the terror of the 4 ^th beast and its little horn (i.e. the Greek empire and Antiochus IV), the promise is that this imperial power will come to an end and will be judged. And God’s kingdom—a kingdom that comes from heaven rather than one that comes up from the Sea—this kingdom will be forever.

This is how Daniel 7 is really about the present age of God’s people in the 2 ^nd century. The future hope in Daniel (i.e. the end of the 4 ^th beast and the arrival of the kingdom of God) gives strength to God’s people today, in light of their present sufferings and struggles. It gives them courage that God is still God, even when it looks like the gods of the Greeks have the upper hand—or even seemingly defeated the God of Israel. This peek behind the cosmic curtain gives a bigger picture that says the best is yet to come. This is not the end of the story: there is more to come.

Does any of it apply today?

So what do we take from it? Well, this is just one picture of political power in the Bible, so it's important to remember this in the context of the whole and not go wild. That said, it does seem to remind us to remember the differentiation between a divinely-wrought kingdom versus human ones. Political empires in Daniel 7 are from the Sea, God-accommodated (but not created), subject to punishment and finite. Some are significantly worse than others in their transgressions. Compare that with God's kingdom in Daniel 7: from heaven, God-given, eternal and will have authority over all other kingdoms. It may not be present yet in the way the reader might want, but it points us towards remembering that one day it will be so.

I wonder whether Daniel 7 paints a useful picture to remember in our speech about political powers. They have their purposes and reasons for their existence (God's accommodates, after all), but they are not divinely-ratified. They are not an intrinsic part of the original design for Creation. Whether we're talking king, president or prime minister, they are (in Daniel's vision) that which comes from below not above. So let's be careful to not confuse the two.

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Cove photo by Pop & Zebra on Unsplash

Inset image: Public Domain, from the British Library's collections, 2013

The Measure of Grace: A Reflection

Thu, 08 Aug 2024 08:52:34 GMT

My morning readings include one or two from the desert fathers, Becoming Fire (Ed. by Tim Vivian, 2008, Liturgical Press). This morning's reading told the following story:

***

There once was an old man who, every day, would eat just 3 biscuits for dinner in the evening. One day a brother came to see him and stayed till late, so the old man set out 3 biscuits for the brother. After the meal was finished, the old man saw the brother was still hungry and so he gave him 3 more biscuits, which the brother ate. At this the old man rebuked the brother for his induglence of the flesh. The brother's response was to repent and then he went on his way.

The next night, the old man sat down to eat his customary 3 biscuits. After he had finished them he found himself hungry for more and unsatisfied with just the 3, but able to resist. The next night was the same: he longed for more biscuits but held out. However as the days went by, resisting became harder and harder. Eventually he cried out for help, fearing that God had abandoned him. In his praying, he asked why this might have happened. An angel appeared and said "'This has happened to you because you condemned the brother. Know, therefore, that when someone is able to exercise self-control or do any other good thing, he is able to do it not on his own power but because it is the grace of God that empowers each person'." [p.316]

***

It is scary how easy it is to judge. To look at another's words, actions or attitude and mask judgement in fake gratitude that I'm not like them. I don't do what they do. I know better. I've learned my lesson. Why haven't they learned theirs?

If it's easy to judge, it's perhaps even easier to feel glad [read: self-righteous] when someone who we judge gets their comeuppance. When the truth is exposed about a person and their wrong against us is vindicated. When, where it had seemed like "evildoers" who were getting ahead and living shiny, happy lives, the sheen on their lives starts to disappear and things go awry.

Have you ever said, with due sarcasm, "It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy/gal?" Then you know what I mean.

Another phrase us religiously-minded folk like to use is "but for the grace of God go I." Yet when I hear it, its usually used far too trivially, almost as a cursory way of acknowledging someone in poverty could have easily been the person speaking and vice versa. As if God's grace is like the casting of lots at birth and we each get something different, but it is what it is.

But to apply it to this morning's reading opens up a deeper and more accurate understanding of grace:

If it weren't for the work of the grace of God in my life, I too would struggle to exercise self-control over what I eat
If it wasn't for God changing my heart, you wouldn't be the only one unable to forgive those who wronged you
If God hadn't shown me my powerlessness to fix myself, I also could not stay away from old habits that die hard

God is not a "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" God. Not even once we have encountered his grace. Yes, there are moments of painful learning, seeing our mistakes, having life teach us hard truths etc. But the power and resolve to make changes, go deeper and walk more faithfully comes from God's Spirit at work in us. Recognising our lack, asking for his help, receiving the miracle of change. Grace, pure and unadulterated grace. "It [really] is the grace of God that empowers."

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Cover photo by Zac Harris on Unsplash

Is it the "End of Days"? Reading the Bible faithfully in the digital age (Part 1)

Wed, 24 Jul 2024 09:29:02 GMT

In a year of many elections in countries all over the globe, I’ve noticed a resurgence of the “look how the Bible is being fulfilled” posts on Facebook. It reminded me of a few years ago when I was in Houston there was an eclipse and a couple of other events which resulted in someone I know posting about this was the end of days because, among other things, “ the sun and moon are not giving their light ”! This way of (mis-)reading the Bible and applying it to today is the interpretative equivalent of taking 2 + 2 and making 593 ² .

Let’s keep it simple and consider just these few thoughts:

If you want to talk end times, you must start here: we’ve been in them for 2,000 years. It started with Jesus: the new age has already begun. Jesus has been raised. It seems to me people often focus on a future “end of days” because they haven’t really grasped the significance of the death and resurrection of Jesus which has already happened (and that's not even mentioning Pentecost).
There have been eclipses throughout history. It’s quite presumptuous (and more than a little self-centred, generationally speaking) to conclude that what was written in a text 2,000 years ago is being fulfilled right now.
This kind of approach to the Bible is based on taking a verse and applying it wildly. Or taking multiple, different verses and working them together into some kind of theological monstrosity. Imagine taking your favourite novel and choosing 6 sentences from various chapters, combining them and then using them to make a claim about what the author meant by the sum of the parts. To be blunt: it says far more about the person doing the choosing than anything the book (or indeed author) might be saying. So why do we do it with the Bible? [ If you want an example of this kind of hermeneutical mistake see here . Or observe that Jeremiah 29:11 is given to a people in the middle of facing the ravages of conquest and displacement which God said was punishment for their pathological wrongdoing and idolatry. It makes it a little stranger and incongruent that such a verse should appear on greetings cards! ]
Proclaiming that the culmination of God's purposes is happening right here in the present age is nothing new: Christians have been doing this throughout history in one way or another. Take the European Reformation, where there were Christians in Germany who hailed the city of Münster as the “New Jerusalem.” It is a perennial temptation for Christians to take the Bible, with its promises and hope, and distort them to fulfil our hopes and (often political) dreams, putting us bang in the centre. But if the testimony of the saints is anything to go by, doing God’s will usually involves sacrifice, denial of self, and willingness to do things and go places we’d rather not. It's on this basis that I raise an eyebrow when someone proclaims the fulfilment of some dream that happens to coincide with their natural proclivities. We are human and we are tempted all too often to try and turn God into a god of our convenience and a god who ratifies our idols.
More often than not, when I see a “look how the Bible is being fulfilled” post it is in relation to the political arena. A particular political candidate, sometimes in support of a particular nation over and against another. The question I want to ask, and address in a follow-up post is this: what does the Bible really say about political powers and empires in particular? What do passages like Genesis 4-11, Isaiah 13, 34, Daniel 7, Ezekiel 29, 32, Mark 13, Revelation 12-13 and so on, have to say? What does Jesus say? The answer to all this could last a lifetime, so my next post will be like taking a tour bus through a historic city – we’ll see some of the key buildings but there won’t be much opportunity to get off the bus and look inside. I hope that this will prove useful and give some hints and direction as to what a faithful story and understanding of political power in the Bible might look like. In turn, my hope is that this might help you filter through and discern the information that comes our way on the digital Wild West that is Facebook, Instagram, YouTube etc.

If you have any particular questions in regards to this, feel free to drop me a note (you can submit questions through this website or email me).

More soon!

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Photo by Pop & Zebra on Unsplash

Fear, Faith and One Day at a Time

Tue, 09 Jul 2024 09:15:24 GMT

Some thinking 'out loud' on our humanity, how we face (or avoid) our fears in the name of pseudo-faith, and the spiritual benefit of taking things one day at a time.

A few years ago, a new parishioner came to see me. She was already a Christian long before she came to my church, but she was a new Anglican and pretty much new to mainline liturgical denominations. Among her questions, one stood out: why do we confess our sins in worship every Sunday? She was asking not because she didn’t believe that we all have sinned and need forgiveness. No, she knew she needed forgiveness, but found that confessing our sins every week a bit like returning to past wrongs in a now-reconciled relationship. Why pretend like God's forgiveness wasn't enough? From the joy she found in forgiveness and the liberation of the gospel, she couldn’t understand and found the weekly rhythm of confession dour and overly negative.

Take, for example, fear.

I have heard it preached (as I’m sure many people have) that “do not fear” is the most frequent command found in the Bible, which seems about right, although I've not counted. It’s usually mentioned in a sermon about the opposite of fear, namely faith. We all act out of fears. We can get controlling, defensive, manipulative, apathetic, angry and so on, all because of deep-seated fear .

God says do not fear ( yes, a quick Bible review reveals this to be true ).

The reasoning for not fearing that God often gives—the why we needn’t fear—is that God is with us ( also true ).

If God is with us, there’s no reason to fear. I can now have faith in that divine presence, I can believe in it, rest in and trust in it. The fear can dissolve, not least because that presence is love.

And yet … do I?

While the above is indeed true, we edge onto faulty ground if we start thinking that it is unchristian to ever feel fear again. It gets even more stuck if we start to hide our fears from our fellow Christians and communities, because we don’t want them thinking our faith isn’t as solid and sure as it looks on the outside.

It’s the same kind of logical confusion and faulty spirituality present in the parishioner’s question about confession. We confess our sins because we come to Jesus and receive forgiveness. We keep coming to Jesus, not because his forgiveness didn’t take and not because we’re annoyingly bringing up the past, but because we are far more sinful that we realised ! There’s more to own up, there’s more to reveal. There’s are more places in me that need to be named and open up to God’s merciful love. It’s not because God’s forgiveness wasn’t enough the first time, it’s that human capacity is limited. I am human and I keep being human. The gospel is lived every day. There’s no graduation in this life.

Lastly, here’s the thing I’ve been reminded of recently. God doesn’t need my perfection . He doesn’t need me to be fearless, sinless or anything “-less”. He knows I’m human, far more than I do. He needs my honesty, my willingness and my best for today. I put in the work. Slowly, I make progress. One day he’ll supply the perfection.

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Cover photo: image by Ann Schreck on Unsplash

Inset photo 1: image by Seth Anderson on Flickr

Inset photo 2: image by Malvestida on Unsplash

Sermon: God's Noble Cedar (Ezekiel 17:22-24)

Mon, 17 Jun 2024 09:52:32 GMT

A sermon I gave at the opening service of the Friends of Wycliffe Hall Summer School 2024. The readings were Ezekiel 17:22-24 & Mark 4:26-34.

About two or three weeks ago, I came across a phrase that was entirely new to me: the “millennial pause.” If you don’t know what it is, let me enlighten you! The two youngest generations of those who’ve reached adulthood are Millenials and Gen Zers. Both are digital natives: they grew up with the internet, cellphones and social media, to some degree. The “millennial pause” describes how when it comes to creating content to put on Instagram or whatever, someone from the older of the two generations—a Millenial—will often pause at the start of their video. Why do they do this? Because older technology took a few seconds to engage when you pressed record. You couldn’t start talking right away otherwise it might not make it onto the video. Gen Zers, on the other hand, laugh at Millenials because they know that the tech today is much quicker to engage when you hit that red button. They also know that if you want someone to watch your video on Instagram or TikTok, you mustn’t waste a second.

With time, things change. Technology advances. New generations grow up. Culture shifts. And those who were once “in the know” start to join those that went before them and cease being relevant in the way they once were. Whether whether it’s small things or large, the only thing guaranteed in life is that the world around us will change.

Regardless of which generation we’re in, what decade of life, or what changes are taking place before us, the God we proclaim afresh—the God revealed in Jesus Christ remains the same. Both our readings today speak to this God, using the image of a sizeable tree that God will bring about. A tree that despite where it came from—whether a mustard seed in Mark or tender twig in Ezekiel—will grow up to bear fruit and provide protection and safety for the birds of the air.

And today, I want us to spend a little time, considering this image and proclamation of God’s goodness and how He works through the lens of Ezekiel 17.

For these verses from the Old Testament describe a remarkable vision of hope. Read on its own, we can certainly see its optimism. This positive expectation that God is good and brings about good things. Look at what God is going to do! Look at the tree He will grow! Look at his power to bring life! But I want to suggest it’s a lot more than that as well. For this vision of hope is for those for whom such a life seems impossible.

God’s words in Ezekiel 17 are a message for a people who have had their lives upended and homes destroyed, a people who have been taken into captivity in Babylon. A people who’ve seen their young, 18 year old, king- Johiachin- taken as a prisoner of war to a foreign city. A people who’ve had their God-given place of worship, sacrifice and renewal of God’s promises and covenant, torn down and left in ruins. These are words for God’s people of Judah, facing the hopelessness of exile.

For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?

(Mark 8)

For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted. (Luke 14)

***

The Judean exile did not last forever. Just a few decades later, when another generation had come along, Jehoiachin’s grandson, Zerubbabel, brought the people back into the land following the fall of the Babylon.

And that is the same God we worship today. The same God we proclaim today. He brings back the humble from the exile of their sin, as they follow their risen king. He raises the dead. He brings new life. And one day, every generation will see it. The proud will be brought low. All injustices squared away. All unrighteousness dealt with.

One of the desert fathers, Abba Anthony, is reported to have said this: " Let us not lose heart, and let us not think that what we are doing takes too much time or is too great an undertaking, for the sufferings of the present time do not compare to the glory that is going to be revealed to us. Let us not look at the world and think that we have renounced great things, for even the whole world is very small when compared with all of heaven. If we were lords of all the earth and renounced the whole world, once again that would not compare with the kingdom of heaven."

This is the remarkable hope we share afresh in each generation. Regardless of the challenges of this world, even with seismic changes, our God remains the same. He brings back to life. He redeems. He brings low the proud and raises up the lowly.

So let us be teachable, let us trust Him, and let us wait with hope for when his glory will be revealed.

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Cover photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash

Update: Student Goodbyes & Commissioning Service

Thu, 13 Jun 2024 15:57:15 GMT

A little update on the end of the school year, Commissioning Day and next week's Summer School (and my summer schedule).

The past couple of weeks have been busy. The end of 7th week (i.e. June 8th) is when we say goodbye to our leavers. After a week full of prep classes for those going into ordained ministry, it's time for the Wycliffe Hall Commissioning Day service on the Saturday. This year we said goodbye to 35 students.

Sermon: The Battle is Real (Ephesians 6)

Mon, 10 Jun 2024 15:22:05 GMT

A sermon given at St Martin's Episcopal Church, Houston, in the late summer of 2018 on principalities and powers, the scandal of abuse and what it might mean to stand strong in the Spirit.

Over a decade ago, I had the privilege of being invited to go to Uganda to support the Diocese of Kumi, a diocese in the eastern side of the country, in their mission week. One particular lesson I learned while there, was the very real nature of the spiritual realm. One story that has stayed with me is the testimony of the archdeacon, Joram, who hosted our visit. He told the story of when he went to a smaller village to deal with some witchcraft that had been practiced there. He performed whatever prayer and deliverance was necessary and headed back to town. However he fell off his motorbike halfway along the trip, as he had suddenly become paralyzed and unable to move. He was found and taken home to his wife, who tended to him for months as he could no longer walk, bathe or look after himself. I’m not sure quite how long this lasted, but eventually the Archbishop of Uganda visited the diocese and went see Joram. On walking into his house, he took one look at the paralysed archdeacon and responded by saying “ That’s a spiritual affliction! Get up and walk! ” And that’s exactly what Joram did. The paralysis left him. In the name of Jesus, he was freed.

Now the story of Joram, even as amazing as it was, fits within what we might think about if we do talk about spiritual conflict and battle. It could almost be lifted off the pages of the gospels themselves. It may feel alien to us as it’s not something we see or hear about on a regular basis. But it does seem to resonate with the stories of Jesus.

Now it may be something we see more often on the pages of the Scripture than in reality, but I absolutely believe in the spiritual realm. I’ve seen enough, experienced enough and read enough of my Bible to know that there are personified evil beings at work in the world who seek to draw all creatures and beings from the love and worship of God.

The Real Battle is with the Powers

But sometimes, even if we do believe in this stuff, we miss the proverbial wood for the trees. We don’t realize the real state of the battle we’re in. The bigger battle that we find as the focus of Ephesians 6. This battle is not with flesh and blood nor just stories of spiritual attack or oppression, but it is with the principalities and powers .

Ephesians 6:12 tells us the battle is with: the rulers, the authorities, the cosmic powers of this darkness and the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.

We are in a struggle with powers and this struggle is universal. Not just folks living in eastern Uganda, but faced by every church, every people, whether we know it or not.

What (or who) are the Powers?

These powers are intangible spiritual entities who are at the same time part of the social and political fabric and order of our existence. And let’s be clear: not all of them are intrinsically evil. They relate to systems of government and social organization. They might include community institutions, organizations, political parties, factions, social movements and so on. But they are distinct and different from individual demonic powers that possess and oppress.

Marcus Barth, theologian and son of Karl Barth, put it this way: “ The distinction between the demons and the powers, is that demons affect the individual incidentally, whereas the powers threaten all men at all times .” [1]

The powers that can’t be delivered in Jesus name, like the Archbishop did with Joram in Uganda. Their presence is part of creation, but part of a fallen creation in which they can rebel against God and draw us away from true worship to the worshiping them in His place. This is the heart of the struggle.

The danger of these powers is that they draw us away to worship them as gods, which places them and the earthly institutions they represent as above reproach and beyond accountability. And we become enslaved.

It’s this kind of status the Roman empire wanted in Revelation 13. In it, the infamous beast rises from the sea with ten horns and seven heads and begins to court the worship of people. We find in v.4 that the people quickly take the bait and worship it crying out “ Who is like the beast and who can fight against it ? ”

The human inclination to idolatry is as old as humanity itself. It’s far easier to trust someone wholesale and check our discernment at the door. It’s easier than worshiping God himself because the powers have an earthly component; a leader, a system, a rulebook that we can hang our hat on. It’s reassuring. But whichever authority it is we’re talking about, whether a teacher, parent, sports coach, politician, industry leader or cleric all of their authority ultimately comes from God. All of it is conditional. All are prone to misuse it – and on some occasions it is outrightly abused and turned into a means of control and fertile ground for the devil.

And such powers can draw us all in. We are all susceptible.

It can be tempting to think that only those institutions outside the church are susceptible to delusions of grandeur and misuse of authority. Don’t we in the church worship the One True God? It is the leaders and organizations in the world at large that set themselves up with a godlike status, seeking to avoid any semblance of accountability. The church knows better, surely?

I wish it were so. But, it’s not. The battle is real and starts with the people of God. It’s this kind of delusion that led to the religious elite of Jesus’ day to have the Son of God crucified. They did not like accountability. They did not steward their power with humility and they did not like Jesus drawing attention to their corruption. It is this kind of delusion that we throughout church history when it has focused on power and prestige over sacrifice and humility.

One incredibly painful example of this is the story that has hit headlines again this week. Our sisters and brothers in the Roman Catholic Church have been contending with the reality of the widespread sexual abuse of children by clergy who were entrusted with their care—as well as the systematic cover up by senior leaders. As a survivor of sexual abuse myself, I can tell you there are no words that will be adequate to heal or atone for the wounds the victims suffer. The road to healing takes a lifetime. It is a road where God often seems silent, although never absent, worldlessly saying “ I’m holding you, and when you’re ready, we’ll talk. ”

The work of healing for the survivors is a long arduous journey and the burden is heavy and—to be painfully honestly—not all make it. The New York Times, reporting on the Pope’s visit to Ireland, interviewed one detective the abuse scandal and he concluded that “ It’s worse than the I.R.A., because it’s like putting a bomb into a child’s mind .” [2] The psychological fallout is immeasurable. For those who love survivors of such kinds of abuse, it requires great patience, persistence, and a willingness to help carry the load, even if we don’t always understand it.

But when it comes to the systematic cover-up we’ve heard about, while the factors that play into it are far beyond my pay grade and knowledge base, this much is certain: power without accountability, namely power that sets itself up as a god, such power is a breeding ground for evil . And silence in the face of evil is never the answer. I’m not sure if this quote is rightly attributed to Bonhoeffer, but he is reported as saying in interview: " Silence in the face of evil is itself evil; God will not hold us guiltless. Not to act, is to act. Not to speak is to speak ."

We are called to be a people of the truth and justice, who bring light into darkness, we are called to people of confession and repentance, especially with those in leadership. The church of every denomination is called to take seriously the trust given to it and lead the way in serving and caring for the least among us. That’s why St. Martin’s and the Diocese of Texas, like many churches, have a clear safeguarding system set-up. To ensure all in leadership understand the trust they’ve been given. And it is not an easy ask as it challenges us to foster a culture in which we speak honestly about sin and deal with it accordingly: seeking justice, healing and redemption.

Folks, the battle is real.

But the good news? The good news is even more real.

Ephesians is a letter that speaks good news right to the heart of the darkness of evil and sin. It gives us the answer we desperately need: a risen Savior who has defeated all the powers, is seated at the right hand of God and will one day will finally defeat all evil and finish the work he began at the Cross. It looks down the barrel of the gun of incomprehensible evil and says "there is yet hope."

So when Ephesians 6:10 says be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power, it reminds us that the divine power that rose Jesus from the dead is alive and at work today. The Spirit of God is able to equip us with all that we need in a world where we experience the temptation to idolize, to excuse and to ignore the evil around us. If God’s Spirit can raise Jesus from the dead, when he was subject to the worst of death and sin, he can bring that same life to us as we put to death sin and know new life.

And we stand strong in the Spirit by putting on the whole armor of God.

The armor of God in the Old Testament is armor that God himself usually wears. It’s the armor of the divine warrior, the God from heaven who comes and brings victory over evil forces that have caused chaos upon his people. As the divine warrior, God exacts punishment, establishes justice and leads his people in true worship. Isaiah 59 describes God who “ puts on righteousness like a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on his head” and puts on “garments of vengeance for clothing . ”

But for the church, in its struggle with the powers, there is armor but there are no garments of vengeance. Instead our armor reminds us of the grace shown to us on the Cross: the breastplate of righteousness, the belt of truth, the shoes of peace, the helmet (perhaps better the 'victory crown') of salvation. All remind us of the God we worship, the righteousness we have in his name, the truth he brings, the peace he offers and salvation he has won. We clothe ourselves in these things and live into them. We remember we are sinners too, but sinners who have tasted new life because of Jesus. And we take up the shield of faith: a big broad, door-like shield that was the first century equivalent of tank when deployed by a team of infantrymen. A shield that protects us from the devil’s attacks and temptations to stray away from Jesus. We have faith: we choose actions that trust in Christ rather than the powers at work in our world.

Lastly, there is the sword of the Spirit, the word of God. These are not only the words of the Bible, but more than that: the proclaimed word of God in the world. God’s word is effective when spoken. And it does not come back to Him empty. The message that that those with power are called to use it sacrificially for those without, that those oppressed have hope for freedom, that sins can be forgiven, that death no longer reigns and that God will one day establish justice over all powers, human and spiritual. It’s the Spirit who conveys this message that speaks to our hearts at the same time convicting us of sin and calling us to new life. It’s this Spirit that can free us from whatever power we falsely idolize. It’s this Spirit that can heal the devastating effects of evil and transform the lives of both abusers and victims. It is this Spirit whom we are called to pray in at all times in every prayer and supplication as we keep alert and persevere.

For the battle is real. But the good news is even more real still.

Amen .

******

[1] Barth, Markus, Ephesians 4-6 , (1974, Anchor Bible, vol.34A), p.802.

[2] https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/23/world/europe/francis-ireland-sexual-abuse-catholic-church.html

Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash

Bible Exposition on James 3:1-12

Thu, 23 May 2024 15:03:34 GMT

Every Monday at 8.20am one of the Wycliffe tutors offers a Bible exposition. On May 20th, I taught on James 3:1-12 (the full passage is below). Enjoy!

James 3:1-12 (NRSV)

Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers and sisters, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness. For all of us make many mistakes. Anyone who makes no mistakes in speaking is perfect, able to keep the whole body in check with a bridle. If we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we guide their whole bodies. Or look at ships: though they are so large that it takes strong winds to drive them, yet they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great exploits.

How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire. The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of nature, and is itself set on fire by hell. For every species of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, but no one can tame the tongue—a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so. Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and brackish water? Can a fig tree, my brothers and sisters, yield olives, or a grapevine figs? No more can salt water yield fresh.

The Ark of the Covenant (Exodus 25:1-22)

Thu, 18 Apr 2024 11:14:30 GMT

A short sermon given (and transcribed from notes) in Morning Prayer on today's Old Testament reading from Exodus, together with a little help from the early chapters of 1 Samuel.

***

May I speak in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The Israelites decide to go to war. The Philistines have been readying themselves for a fight. There have been rumours that they were preparing for a conflict and the Israelites are afraid. So they make the choice to go to battle.

In this particular battle they incur a loss of 4,000 men. They turn back and head home dejected. They wonder what they will do. And then they happen upon a solution. The next day they will go back to war, but this time they will take the Ark of the Covenant with them. That will guarantee victory!

So they take the Ark from Shiloh and they head out. But the Philistines hear the uproar—the cheers as the Israelites assemble. They wonder what's going on. And then they get word that the Ark of the Covenant is heading out with the Israelites. And the fear this news incurs for the Philistines actually emboldens them such that they go forward with more courage and more strength. In the second battle, the Israelites are defeated yet again. This time at a loss of 30,000 men. Not only is this a far more devastating loss than the previous battle, but this time the Ark of the Covenant itself is taken captive. Not only did it not guarantee success, but they lost possession of it.

The Israelites had presumed on the grace of God by taking with them the presence of God in the Ark of the Covenant. Regardless of whether it was God's will.

The victorious Philistines take the Ark of the Covenant to Ashdod. Thinking that this is a god like any god they house it in the temple of Dagon. After setting it in place, they go to bed and arise the next morning but find a strange situation. Dagon is found, face down, prostrate before the Ark of the Covenant. While this is odd, they explain it away—find some kind of reason for their god to be out of place. Dutifully, they set up Dagon back upright. The day goes by, they go to bed, they get up and go to the temple again. But what do they find? Again, Dagon is laid down before the Ark. But this time he has also been beheaded and his hands cut off—a symbol of his powerlessness before the God of Israel.

Then things get worse: the people of Ashdod break out in tumours and sickness. The victory of possessing the Ark has turned into a curse.

The Ark of the Covenant is holy. Why? Because this is where God chose to dwell with His people. It is where God's presence has come down. In Exodus 25, in our reading today, we hear God giving instructions to Moses about how it might be built. And it is not to be taken lightly . The instructions for its construction and the tabernacle as a whole is not a simple revelation from the Lord that was shared in a dream or vision.

Moses gets called up along with seventy of his men. They journey up towards God, they have some kind of visionary encounter and they share a meal together. But afterwards, Moses presses on. He spends 6 days in a cloud after which, on the 7th day, he finally hears from God and is again called further up the mountain. A mountain which from the people’s point of view is ablaze with a great fire.

Moses is there for 40 days and 40 nights. A total of 47 days responding to God’s call and waiting for His voice. Then, finally, God speaks. Here's my instructions. Here's what you will do. This is the Tabernacle I want you to make. And his instructions begin with a description of the most holy of places: the Ark.

It will be fashioned not according to the will of man, but the design of God. The ark itself will be made of wood covered wtih gold. There will be poles attached to it because it will be too holy to touch. And atop the ark will sit the mercy seat, made of pure gold and flanked either side with cherubim, whose wings will cover it. Some say this is the throne of God. Some say it's the footstool. Either way, it is where God will make himself present.

This leaves us to wonder. Who is going to foot the bill for these materials? Who will provide the glorious and holy place that will be worthy of God’s descent to be with his people?

God makes it clear from the start: it will be made from gifts freely given. Gifts from members of the community whose hearts are stirred, for whatever reason. Gifts given out of a choice freely made. Perhaps motivated by their memory of their deliverance out of Egypt and slavery. Perhaps it's in recognition of who their God is in his glory. We don't know. But no one is compelled. No one is forced or coerced. The tabernacle will be built from gifts given from the heart.

***

Let us remember today that we are people of a different covenant made with the same God . A holy God. A God on whose grace we should not dare to presume, like the Israelites against Philistines. God's presence does not guarantee the success of our plans. We take his grace for granted at our peril. He is a holy God.

But He is also a God who has come near, who dwells with, with us and in us. All made possible by a gift freely given. A gift given to us . A choice freely made. But by God Himself. A holy gift from the heart of God that provides a place in which He can come and dwell with us. Built on his gift, not ours.

Let us pray.

Heavenly and holy Father, we draw near in the knowledge of our unworthiness and in gratitude for your goodness. Remind us today both of Your holiness and your unending generosity and kindness that you would make it possible to dwell among us. In Jesus name. Amen.

******

Photo by Igor Rodrigues on Unsplash

Easter Updates

Wed, 10 Apr 2024 17:32:41 GMT

A Few Days Back in Texas

Since the end of Hilary Term, quite a lot of different things have happened. I've been back in the States for a flying visit (and boy did it feel quick!). It was wonderful to be hosted at St John the Divine and speak on different topics, along with NT Wright, Jonathan Brant and Michael Lloyd. There wasn't quite time enough to say all the hellos I wanted to say, but I got in quite a few!

I also got to pop back to St. Martin's, preach at Riverway and say hello to many of my old colleagues. It really was fab to be back and I really enjoyed getting to preach on John 3 (including v.16!). One of the great joys (and sometimes challenges) of preaching from my perspective is that of being changed and shaped by the passage you're preaching on in the process of preparing the message. I have often done the groundwork several days out in preparation for a sermon and may even have a draft of a sermon I want to preach. But it's not the sermon. This was one of those late bloomers (probably not helped from the jetlag), but spending time in John 3 (and the end of John 2!) opened my eyes to things I hadn't noticed before and I still feel the impression it made on me.

If you'd like to take a listen you can watch it here:

If video doesn't play, click here: https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=925581062610150

First Parish Communion

Lastly...

The Easter break has been a good one. I've been able to do a little work on editing my manuscript for a monograph of my PhD thesis. I've also done a LOT of marking for the Introduction to Old Testament course that students taking the BTh programme complete in their first year of study. Students complete essays on topics that include questions like:

Compare the two creation accounts in Genesis 1 and 2
What was the role of an OT prophet?
What does it mean for God to "harden Pharaoh's heart" in the Book of Exodus?

They also submit a 1,500 word exegesis on an OT text, e.g. Genesis 3, 12 or Isaiah 6 or 51. It's a tough job to say a lot about these texts in such a short space, but they manage it!

I've also started preparations for some material on looking at how we tell and retell biblical stories: something to think about both with respect to how the Bible uses its own stories and some good stuff to get thinking about in terms of preaching and how we handle the biblical text in the pulpit (even if often a metaphorical pulpit in England).

Next week is 0th week ("noughth"), which means it's a week before the normal term starts, but there's teaching to be done (including a class from me on Anglicanism in North America!) as well as a 3 day workshop on preaching. Do pray for all the students and staff as they begin a new term—especially those students who are going to be preparing to head off into ministry this summer.

******

The Wayside Podcast: Q&A on the Bible & More

Mon, 04 Mar 2024 08:46:31 GMT

N.T. Wright and I were guests on The Wayside Podcast and had a great conversation with Rev. Wesley Arning and Ryan Presley.

We discussed how to engage well with Scripture and answered some questions from the 8th grade confirmands. You can listen here . Enjoy!

******

The Desert, Jesus & Temptation

Wed, 14 Feb 2024 09:53:30 GMT

My first sermon at the Wycliffe Hall Tuesday Communion service. Given on February 13th, 2024 on the theme of "desert." My chosen readings were Matthew 4:1-11 and Deuteronomy 8:1-10.

A couple of years ago, my husband and I drove around the western half of the USA and spent some time driving through the desert of Nevada. Far from petrol station, mobile coverage, other drivers or any kind of civilization, it is a long way from nowhere. While we were in a truck—with a full tank of petrol—there was still that awareness that if something were to go wrong, in the desert it would go very wrong indeed.

The desert is a tough place to be. It is a hard and it is a testing place.

Psalm 107 echoes this reality. It tells of God’s deliverance that from various troubles—not least the perils of the wilderness. “ Some wandered in desert wastes, finding no way to an inhabited town; hungry and thirsty, their souls fainted within them . ”

It is a place without easy access to food or drink. It does not have the security of a city wall or any kind of place to securely lay down for the night. It is rough and dangerous terrain.

In a similar way that going “into the woods” in a fairy tale usually indicates some kind of foreboding—we might think of Little Red Riding Hood’s encounter with the wolf or Hansel and Gretel’s discovery of an ominous house made of bread—the desert in Christian history clues us in to a difficult time. On the Day of Atonement, it is where the sin-bearing goat is sent—to the demon Azazel whose home is in the desert. In Isaiah 13 it is the wasteland that Babylon will become post-judgement: devoid of life and goodness, but filled with ominous and dark creatures.

Athanasius wrote of an aptly named “desert father” Antony of Egypt, who spent much of his life in spiritual battle in the desert, having sold all he had, ensuring the wellbeing of his younger sister and giving the rest to the poor. Antony went into the desert and so began some fierce spiritual battle.

Athanasius’ account of his life tells of various rounds of the struggle. First the temptations were more basic: to indulge in physical desires, his sexual impulses. To fold to the more basic stuff of our bodily existence. The craving for connection and intimacy. The impulses themselves weren’t enough so the devil came before him taking an alluring female form. Later there were rounds of physical assault and injury. At other times, the devil tried to lure Antony in with gold coins and a silver platter. After multiple rounds, eventually God delivers Antony from his struggle.

And Antony responds with a startlingly honest question for God. Why didn’t you come sooner!? Why didn’t you do something before my body was broken and near to being extinguished? To my ears (at least), that’s a reasonable question!

God’s answer? “ I was here Anthony, but I waited to watch your struggle. And now, since you persevered and were not defeated, I will be your helper forever… ”

Anthony, like the Israelites after their liberation from Egypt, faced testing and humbling in the desert. Why? To learn how to trust in the bread that comes from the mouth of the Lord. To persevere. To remain steadfast.

***

The desert is a place of testing. As it was for Jesus in Matthew 4. Jesus is taken out into the wilderness by the Spirit. Why? To be tested by the devil. Forty days without food or water, in difficult and risky terrain, at the end of which Jesus is spent. He is famished. And right on cue, the devil shows up.

And the devil’s strategy really revolves around one thing: his identity: “ If you are the Son of God… ”

The reading Matthew picks up just after Jesus has just been baptized. Matthew describes the extraordinary scene that speaks to the significance of this man who’s appeared with John. Crowds witness it. They see the heavens torn open, hear the words of divine affirmation. But now, that glorious moment has gone, and Jesus is now alone and hungry, with the devil looking to trip him up.

And in contrast to the Israelites in the wilderness after their own ‘baptism’ through the Red Sea: Jesus succeeds where they failed. In each temptation, Jesus does straightforwardly what the Israelites could not do: trust God’s provision of food, trust God for his safety and trust God for authority. And all in God’s timing.

***

The First Temptation

Where Israel had to be taught and learn to “ understand that one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD ” -- Jesus does not. The devil goads him to provide for himself. We know Jesus will go on miraculously provide food to his followers—so why not do so for himself?

The text doesn’t give us what was going on in Jesus’ mind. But it does tell us this was not really about food. " If you are the Son of God… " This was an invitation for Jesus to prove his identity, by a providing a miracle.

But I suspect Jesus recognises where he is—the desert—and who he’s talking to—the devil. And a time of testing is not over when we say it’s over. It’s over when God’s faithfulness is revealed. When he provides in our waiting. Think of Job’s spiritual desert and suffering. A waiting that culminates in God’s revelation of himself.

The Second Temptation

The devil then turns to challenge Jesus’ sense of safety. Quoting Psalm 91, the devil invites Jesus: throw yourself down. Prove that God will rescue you. Prove that He cares.

How easy it might be to self-justify at this point. For Scripture does say indeed say “ He will command his angels concerning you .” But Jesus is not persuaded by the devil’s misuse of God’s word. Again he quotes Deuteronomy, “ Do not put the LORD your God to the test . ” (Deut 6:16) Like the Israelites who did so at Massah.

Jesus is the one facing testing—he is not the one to test God.

The Third Temptation

Lastly then lastly the devil gets down to brass tacks. He makes a direct appeal: worship me and I’ll give you power and influence. Don’t worship God. Switch loyalties. In essence: be my son, not God’s. Do what Israel so often did in its history: renounce your loyalty and increase your status.

But Jesus engages with equal directness: “ Depart, Satan . ” Deceiver. I know you.

Again he quotes from Deuteronomy: “ Worship the Lord the your God and serve Him only . ”

And so the devil departs. And then angels come and minister to Jesus.

***

So what are we to make of Jesus’ steadfast and unwavering fidelity to God? Are we to shore up the same resolve for us, gird up our spiritual loins and strive for such holiness ourselves when we find we have been plunged into the desert?

And plunged we might be. Stephen and I chose to drive through the desert of Nevada. Anthony of Egypt chose to go into the desert. But that’s not always the case. Sometimes a time of testing can appear from nowhere: a spouse walking out, a betrayal, a long-held hope and dream finally proves itself untenable. The expectation of what we think ministry is going to look like—versus what it actually is. Sometimes it’s a severe break, an obvious crisis moment, other times it’s the culmination of countless small injuries. Something that breaks us out of our civilised, safe, inhabited worlds into the rugged and unknown deserts where who we were and who we thought God was, is suddenly up for grabs.

As Anthony of Egypt and Orthodox spirituality in general is rather good at reminding us: there is a very real battle to be fought. It is not without reason that 1 Peter 5:8 beckons us:

“ Discipline yourselves; keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. ”

We are beckoned to bed down into the truth of who we are in Christ. To stand firm.

But let’s not fool ourselves into thinking for a minute that resolve and strength in the face of temptation is what really matters. It is imperative. It is indeed necessary. But none of us can face the devil down and win.

Except. For. Christ.

The same one who was tempted in the desert, was tested also in Gethsemane and surrendered on the Cross. He could have called a host of angels to deliver him, but he did not do so. He waited for the resurrection.

The devil offered Jesus a shortcut: worship me and I’ll give you the kingdoms of the world. But Matthew 28—at the other end of the book—tells us Jesus got the kingdoms of the world and more—without ever having to forsake his God, “ All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me . ” Not only does Jesus now have authority over all of the earthly kingdoms, but all of the heavens too—including the devil himself.

Anthony of Egypt, in one bout of particular spiritual battle, lay wiped out from the enemy’s assaults. His body had been ravaged by demons who had taken the form of wild beasts. And then the account of his life says this:

“[Antony] groaned because of the pain felt in his body, but being in control of his thoughts and as if mocking them [the demons], he said: “If there were some power among you, it would have been enough for only one of you to come. But since the Lord has broken your strength, you attempt to terrify me by any means with the mob; it is a mark of your weakness that you mimic the shapes of irrational beasts.”

“If you are able, and you did receive authority over me, don’t hold back, but attack. But if you are unable, why, when it is vain, do you disturb me? For faith in our Lord is for us a seal and a wall of protection .”

If and when we find ourselves in the desert, out of the familiarity and security of our lives as we know them. Perhaps faltering on who we are. Maybe wondering where God is. While we have our part to play in holding onto the promise and truth of what God has done for us and who we are in Him, make no mistake:

We will prevail, not because of our spiritual prowess or anything special about you or me. But because the Enemy has already been defeated. His power has been broken. By the One who has faced the very same temptations and is now seated—with all authority—at the right hand of God.

******

Moving On: A Reflection on Faith & Times of Change

Mon, 12 Feb 2024 12:30:52 GMT

Read on below (and click the link) to read a reflection I wrote about leaving the bayhouse behind and learning to trust God for all the details.

I wrote a piece last summer for Red Tent Living, a website and blog for Christian women in the States. It's about the place we had in Port O'Connor (if you've ever been there, I'm sure you'll get it!). The photo at the top of this page is of the view I describe in the piece. It's funny how God provides and nice to re-read my writing now we're many many miles away, in a very different place, but with the exact same God. He provided then, He provides now. His Creation continues to be beautiful and restorative (but with a few more grey, rainy days and nowhere to easily launch a boat).

Moving On - Red Tent Living

Enjoy!

******

Update: Fully Licensed and Ready to Roll

Fri, 02 Feb 2024 11:31:11 GMT

My ordained ministry at Wycliffe begins: today (on Candlemas) I was licensed to the Diocese of Oxford

T oday I was licensed to officiate as a priest at Wycliffe Hall by Archdeacon Jonathan Chaffey, on behalf of +Steven Croft (Oxford). It was a short and sweet service, with some students and staff there for moral support. I held a Bible and swore allegiance (to the Crown and to the Bishop). We read from Romans 12:1-5, the reading for today on Candlemas. And Michael Lloyd (Wycliffe Hall Principal) prayed for me. Then we had coffee and cake together the dining hall. It was lovely.

I would have thought it would be straightforward for me to minister here. However, it turns out, I am a bit of a clerical unicorn! Trained in the Church of England, ordained in the Episcopal Church but on behalf of an Anglican Bishop (and using Anglican liturgy), but despite all that I need to OPTO (Overseas Permisison To Officiate) before I can get licensed. This involved a request to the Archbishop of Canterbury and a lot of work from the Diocesan office. Thankfully, they were willing to put in the hours to make it happen--for which I am rather grateful!

It was a good reminder for me today. What I've been given, what I'm called to do (and what I'm now humanly licensed to do!) is from what I've been given as a gift of grace. And a gift from which I offer loving service and humble obedience, knowing I'm a work in progress, among works in progress.

If you feel inclined, I invite you to join me in praying this prayer for Candlemas:

Almighty and ever-living God,
clothed in majesty,
whose beloved Son was this day presented in the Temple,
in substance of our flesh:
grant that we may be presented to you
with pure and clean hearts,
by your Son Jesus Christ our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Amen.

******

The Parable of the Banquet (and one under-dressed guest)

Fri, 12 Jan 2024 08:14:41 GMT

A short sermon for Morning Prayer on Matthew 22:1-14

Most mornings at Wycliffe we have Morning Prayer (you can see the form it usually takes here ). In it there is opportunity to share a short message. During term time, the students lead and preach in chapel, but in the week before term begins (0 ^th week in Oxford lingo), the tutors lead chapel and preach. On Thursday this week, I was up and chose the reading from Matthew 22:1-14 .

Why did I choose it?

Because some people have a great deal of difficulty with this passage and has been used to legitimate religious abuse. It can be used to browbeat people into right behaviour (because otherwise Jesus will judge you) and becomes a burden that is onerous and unbearable. But recently, I also heard a reading of the passage recently that tried to offer an antedote to this misreading by saying the man who was inappropriately dressed at the wedding (and thus thrown out into the outer darkness) was actually Jesus.

There are manifold problems with this reading as well!. The parable in question is clearly a messianic banquet. The king is throwing a wedding feast for his son. There are close parallels to the previous parable of the vineyard. It’s builds on the critique and rejection of Jewish religious leaders in that parable by saying the “anyone and everyone” who were welcomed into the banquet likewise have a responsibility to be faithful with what God has given them.

So I chose this parable to preach on. If I’d had more time I would have worked this into the sermon. As it was, it was just in mind in my prayers and preparation.

***

It is funny how with passages and parables in the Bible, we can read them, hear them preached, maybe do a Bible study or two on them and still find that we’re left remembering a story that is a bit different from the ones we find in the text.

Take this morning’s parable in Matthew 22, which is also found in Luke 14. It’s easy to hold onto the memory of the banquet thrown by a king, to which the invited guests refuse attendance for different reasons. We remember the king’s generous and gracious response to send his servants out again to bring in the least of these. The abandoned, the forgotten, the outcast. The unworthy.

But today’s lectionary invites us to reflect on Matthew’s version, which has a harder edge. Not only do the guests rebuff the invitation, but they mock the great sacrifice and cost the king has gone to preparing a feast in expectance of their attendance. They depart and go off about their business and those that don’t take to mistreatment, abuse and murder. And not only do the guests respond with greater acrimony than in Luke, but the king responds with a lot more than just anger. He sends his troops to destroy the guests-turned-murderers and burns down their city.

It’s only then that the king invites others—not just the down-trodden but in Matthew it’s anyone: the good, the bad and the ugly. Any and all are invited.

And then we discover the unique epilogue to this story in Matthew—still with this tougher message. One guest has shown up lacking the custom wedding robes and he’s called out by the king. And the man is taken, bound and cast out into outer darkness.

"The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy." The king says of the guests who rejected his invitation and killed his servants.

And the one that came insufficiently dressed showed himself unworthy too.

It’s not the version of story that is easy to sit with. Especially first thing in the morning of a cold January! But it is a story we are to heed. As Ofula challenged us yesterday, what can be given can indeed be taken away and like yesterday’s lack of fruit—today’s lack of proper clothing—is just cause.

But the clothing we are to wear is not an expensively tailored suit for a wedding today or a new and glamorous dress and matching shoes. It is the simple clean, linen garment we have at home. It is not out of reach or an impossible ask on our budget. It is not a heavy burden to bear—it is a work tailored just for us.

Make no mistakes, it is work, yes. Reneging on this work comes with a high cost. There is diligence and effort and focus required. But it is a work borne of the Spirit. And it is a work worthy of the King.

******

Photo by Mitchell Orr on Unsplash

10 Things I Learned from Moving Internationally

Tue, 02 Jan 2024 13:49:40 GMT

Thinking about a move around the globe?! Here are some things I've learned...! Some serious, some silly, perhaps one or two maybe even helpful.

1. Patience. Patience. Patience. Especially with packing/unpacking.

This could well be every one of the 10 points in this post. Everything about moving takes time. Lots of it. And while the nerves may be higher than usual, trusting the process and taking it one day at a time is a must (for the sanity and the sake of all those who live with you). Especially with packing and unpacking. The latter may be the worst, because when it comes to unpacking you are facing the final stretch to establishing a new normal routine. But it will take time. ( Pro tip: start with the kitchen first ). So have patience, recognise it's going to be a while before everything is where it should be. Do what you can, don't worry about the chaos of what's not done. Unpacked boxes are going to be your friend for a while, so better to embrace them.

2. Cell phone, wi-fi, vacuum cleaner, microwave, printer. Find your equivalent and buy it.

These were our essentials to get done early. I got the SIM cards for our phones the first full day, the Wi-Fi set-up the first weekend, the vacuum cleaner shortly after and the microwave and printer a week or so after that. These things make life functional for us. Find your equivalent and don't hesitate to get what you need. I would thoroughly recommend signing up to Which? independent consumer reviews (or whatever equivalent might be in your country). Wading through online customer reviews can be a minefield of confusion (I'm looking at you, Amazon). Independent reviews and comparisons were a big help with navigating the decisions that need to be made without wasting money on things that look good but prove to be duds.

3. The extra money is worth it for good customer service (and so pay the big bucks for full service international removals)

We had a bit of hiccup along the way with removals, partly because we tried to cut costs with the shipping. The company due to unload the shipping container in the UK and transport it to our new address wouldn't actually unload the thing for us (and the rep became a bit like an insolent teenager in helping us find a solution...). After some research, we chose Bishop's Move to step in and take over the UK customs, transport and removals side of things. They were communicative, helpful and all-round top quality from start to finish. Yes, the price tag was hefty, but boy was it worth it.

4. Measure your furniture before it ships. Size matters!

One last minute variable we could have avoided was the question of whether our furniture would actually be able to fit through our front door (answer: it was, but not all of it could get up the stairs). If we had taken the measurements of the larger pieces of furniture it would have helped a lot. We have two wardrobes that were able to get in but not upstairs. The gardening table was able to get through too. The chest of drawers I thought would be too wide for the space in the master bedroom fitted perfectly. When removal day comes around, it's so much easier if you know for certain that a piece will fit where you want it. This in turn, means you don't need contingency plans for other furniture. Getting furniture in and situated in the best place is like a big puzzle and the fewer variables the better!

5. You cannot over-inventory the stuff you're shipping

Lists, labels and more lists. If you have boxes, list them and their contents (not just for the TOR UK customs form). Colour label all your boxes (blue to the office, green to the master bedroom, red to the bathroom etc). Put descriptions on the boxes. It might seem like a hassle on the packing end, but consider it a gift to the future you that will have to do all the unpacking. Lists, labels and more lists. And if your packing company isn't doing it for you, take a photo of everything they're shipping for you.

6. Air-tags are great... until they're not

We bought a pack of airtags for transporting the dogs and for putting in our shipping container. Genius, right? That way we can track our pups and our property all the way from Houston to Oxford! Well... kind of... Yes, we were able to track the dogs at IAH and again it was a relief to see them in Paris-CDG after I turned my phone on and got on the airport wi-fi. Yes, it was fun to see our stuff on the port of Houston and again at the port of London. And it was helpful to be able to track the eta of our stuff from Norwich to Oxford on the day they were due to show up.

But... here's the thing: airtags don't have great signal when in the hold of a plane or in a shipping container at sea . We couldn't track the shipping container across the Atlantic as I'd hoped. Instead it looked like it was still in Houston until it magically jumped to London. Pointless, really. Likewise I was at the gate ready to board the plane to Paris and it looked like one dog was at the next gate over and the other dog in the middle of the runway. Neither dog seemed to actually be in the hold of the plane. In short, what was supposed to reassure me just made my anxiety ten times worse!

So airtags? They have their uses, but they have their limits too. Consider yourself warned!

7. Don't worry about eating perfectly, but do eat 3 meals a day

An international move is stressful. Don't worry about what you're eating (too much). Enjoy your favourite restaurants you're leaving behind and enjoy the foods of where you're going. Now is not the time to worry about waist lines. Life is stressful enough so give yourself a break. Though I would recommend not grazing; it does help to keep to 3 meals a day. It's a good thing to stop, take a break and be nourished after all the busyness of a big move.

8. Find the little things that bring you joy and they'll help keep you sane

What keeps you sane? Do that thing. For me, it was buying a kettle in advance (as well as a replacement coffee grinder that was exactly the same as our US one) and having it ready on arrival. In an empty home, with a mattress, two folding chairs and a small table for furniture, being able to reliably make a cup of tea or coffee was a spot of normal and familiar in the crazy of finding new rhythms and routines everywhere else. The little things matter.

9. If at all possible, do it with someone you love & respect (and communicate clearly!)

Whether it's your spouse (if you have one) or family or good friends, a move like this is best done with someone you love and respect working along with you. Stephen and I divided tasks up as needed and got to work. The downside was when one of us was about to switch off and the other breaks out with " I think we should sell it. " assuming we both knew exactly what "it" was. I did it to Steve and he reciprocated. It can be irritating but it can also be really funny. Either way, (a) it's great to have companions to take the strain and share the load and (b) it's also important to keep lines of communication open, which might include a request for context when hit with something out of the blue or perhaps simply setting a gentle boundary: " I really can't take on more right now: can this wait till later? "

10. Keep a gratitude list and remember that your whole life is not in your hands, but in God's

It's pretty easy to get bogged down in the details and admin (and there is a LOT of admin). It can be frustrating and it's very easy to get caught up in the weeds of it all. I have a friend I text regularly, and we often exchanges texts where we share gratitude lists of what we are or what we could be grateful for. Sometimes I don't feel grateful at all, but I know a saner version of me in this moment would be grateful for the food on my plate, the husband at my side or the roof over my head. Whether it's something I feel grateful for in the moment or not, reminding myself of the good things God has given me helps with my perspective. It helps me remember the Giver as well. Yes, there are details and yes they can be frustrating, but this whole thing is in God's hands.

Obviously there was a lot more we learned along the way, but here are the top ones that have stood out for me. I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse into what we've learned the last few weeks. And if I've not said this to you another way: Happy New Year!

***

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

Wed, 06 Dec 2023 20:33:46 GMT

" 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. T ake 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.

******

On Forgiveness & Matthew 18 (My First Sermon in Texas)

Wed, 15 Nov 2023 17:00:00 GMT

As our season in Houston comes to an end, here's the first sermon I ever gave at St. Martin's. It's from September 14th, 2014, looking at Matthew 18 and forgiving as we have been forgiven.

A few weeks ago I heard an interesting news story about generosity. At a drive-through Starbucks in Florida, a woman purchased a drink for herself but then also paid for a coffee for the person in the car behind her. One simple act of generosity. But it didn’t stop there. The gift was passed on. The person who received the free drink bought another free drink for the next person in line, and so it continued. Throughout the day a total of 378 people bought a drink for a total stranger through the initial thoughtful and generous act of one woman.

I wonder what acts of generosity you’ve known. I wonder if someone has bought you dinner, blessed you with a gift, maybe they loaned you a car at a time of need, or paid a bill for someone when they couldn’t cover it. I wonder whether you’ve known the humbling experience of being given something, a gift of time, money or service, which you couldn’t have done for yourself, or at least not without cost.

Peter’s question at the start of the reading from Matthew is really about the subject of generosity. “How often should I forgive?” How much is enough? How generous should I be? He asks. And, to be fair to him, he tries to be a good example. He offers the perfect number of seven as the model. You can almost hear the enthusiasm in his voice. " As many as seven times?" I wonder if he was hoping that he got it right for a change, trying not to get caught out by just saying two or three. Seven sounds good. Surely seven is enough?

But the question Peter asks, by its very nature, gets it wrong. He’s trying, but he doesn’t get it. As soon as he asks " How much? " he’s expecting a limit. A formula. It’s understandable. Give me a figure to work with, Jesus. I need something to go on, a formula to run with.

It’s a question we often ask.

But we know that Jesus doesn’t deal with formulas, he deals with people. And his response exposes the heart of Peter’s problem and leaves us with a challenging reality.

(1) Generosity in forgiveness knows no limits.

Jesus’ responds by saying not 7 times, but 77. In other words, Peter, it’s not about numbers. And then he tells a parable.

He tells the story of a servant who has an enormous debt cancelled. This servant had a debt of 10,000 talents. That’s roughly equivalent to all the income tax Herod the Great would have received from his whole empire for over ten years. That’s a pretty unthinkable number for the disciples to imagine. One rough equivalent in US dollars would put it at over 2 billion dollars. It was no small sum. It was not just having your school loan paid off, or your mortgage covered. It was certainly more than having a coffee bought for you in Starbucks. It verges on the ridiculous – how could the servant have got into such an enormous amount of debt in the first place? But, nonetheless, the master foregoes his anger, and sets the man and his family free from any compulsion to pay. He gets to go completely free.

I don’t know about you, but I find this a difficult level of generosity hard to comprehend.

Jesus’ response puts Peter’s question in a bigger picture. This is not a numbers game. If you’re dealing with numbers, you’ve got caught up in the detail and missed the point. Look how generous God is towards us. If we truly have grasped this, then we will pass it on. If we don’t pass it on and harbor bitterness, have we truly grasped it? And that's an important question...

(2) Have we really come to terms with the extravagance of God’s cancelling of our sins?

It’s very easy to say with our lips that we are a forgiven people. We say words of confession and hear the absolution proclaimed to us. But do we know God’s forgiveness deep within our hearts? Do we know that whatever we have done, whatever the extent of how we have hurt, betrayed and overlooked the needs of others, we can be forgiven?

Sometimes we don't want to face this level of generosity. We reduce God’s forgiveness to being somehow only because ‘on balance’ we do okay and it becomes contingent on whether we get it right next time. We might tell ourselves that in the grand picture of who we are, God doesn’t have to forgive too much.

Or we might only accept it in certain places in our hearts and only let it reach in so far. God can forgive this bit of me, but not the mess I try to hide.

Brennan Manning wrote a wonderful book called " Abba’s Child. " In it he describes two selves – the imposter and the child . The imposter is the false self we build up. It’s the self that says the right thing, knows how to get what it wants, it knows what it should do to be accepted and does it. It’s the mini-Pharisee that sits within us all. Then there is the child. The real self that says what it thinks, feels freely, doesn’t always do what its told and is fully herself.

I think this is a good picture for thinking about how we reduce God’s forgiveness. We think he forgives the imposter alone. The Pharisee who’s broken a few rules, but generally does well. When in truth God wants to reach out to the child and show us his generous forgiveness and love, even in the face of the worst of our broken and sinful lives.

(3) If we get truly start to grasp the generosity God has shown us, it liberates us to pass it on.

As people who are forgiven we become people who forgive. I don’t know about you, but if I were the 299 ^th person in that Starbucks line, I’d feel pretty obliged to be generous. I’d feel it was the right thing to do, and the social pressure of not wanting to break the chain would make me do it. It wouldn’t be from liberation but from compulsion and obligation. But with God, it’s all about liberation.

If we don’t get it we’re in danger of becoming like the servant in Jesus’ parable. Having been freed and sent on his way, what does he do? He goes and seizes a fellow-servant who owes him the equivalent of a few thousand dollars. He grabs him and demands the debt, and even when he’s asked for mercy, he refuses and throws the fellow-slave in prison. And as a result, the master summons this unforgiving slave back, revokes his forgiveness and hands him over to be tortured until he pays the debt. The message is clear enough.

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.

The problem is that forgiveness is still hard because people have hurt us. They let us down and betray us. We experience real resentment, real pain and real anger. So do we just shrug the hurt off and move on? Do we just say " I forgive you " and forget about it?

Flick a forgiveness switch and be done?

Obviously it’s not always that simple. The fact that Jesus says at the end of the Matthew 18 that forgiveness should come from the heart tells us that much. Forgiveness must be real. It’s not just an external, superficial excusing of bad behavior. Forgiveness honestly confronts the sin, but ultimately lets go of hostility and, where possible, moves towards reconciliation. Just as God has done with us. C.S. Lewis in an essay on forgiveness writes

“ Real forgiveness means looking steadily at the sin, the sin that is left over without any excuse, after all allowances have been made, and seeing it in all its horror, dirt, meanness, and malice, and nevertheless being [wholly] reconciled to the person who has done it .”

It doesn’t avoid the reality of the damage, but it doesn’t stop there. It acknowledges the fall-out of the sin, but then in time moves beyond it into a place of peace both in our own hearts as well as through reconciliation with the other person.

Sometimes we can do this quickly and easily, we just need to swallow our pride and confess our lack of generosity. Other times it takes a while and needs to be taken a day at a time. In order to either, but especially the second, we need the prayer and support of our friends and spiritual mentors. We need space to struggle to let go. Forgiveness is not like blowing out candles on a birthday cake. It's not taking one, big, deep breath and blowing out the candles all at once. It’s a marathon not a sprint. It’s an orientation of the heart not simply a one-time decision.

The parable Jesus tells reveals a stark contrast between the attitudes of the master and that of the servant. The master shows an extraordinary generosity and mercy to the servant in cancelling such a large debt, but we discover the servant does not do likewise. He is mean and ungrateful in his dealings with his fellow-servants. In a sense it stands as an ‘anti-parable’ – this shows us exactly who we don’t want to be like. But it also reminds us to refocus our eyes on the one who we do follow after, the God who has made our forgiveness possible through the ransoming of his Son as our payment. He has paid the debt.

The question for us then, is will we forgo our desire to keep score and limit our generosity? Do we, like Peter, ask how much is enough? Or will we follow Christ in the costly path of forgiveness and show generosity to others from the extravagant forgiveness we have been shown?

******

Photo by Jasmin Ne on Unsplash

Update: 30 Days and Counting

Tue, 07 Nov 2023 18:35:31 GMT

It's 30 days till lift off!

On December 7th Stephen will fly from IAH to Heathrow. He's flying direct while I'm taking the scenic route via Paris on the 6th with the dogs (long story but it's a LOT cheaper than flying dogs direct into London).

So on December 8th, God-willing, we'll all be together in Oxford in our new home (more on that later...). In the meantime, it's a whole lotta chaos. Because everything is changing. The photo above is of our car port filled with boxes of books (167 gallons!) and other possessions. The rest of our house looks pretty similar. It's boxed up and ready to go.

Everything is changing...

It's a lot to make an international move (let alone a domestic one). I am incredibly grateful for the time we've had to be able to work this one step at a time and not rush, but even so it's a lot. There's the normal stuff of moving anywhere. And then there's figuring out Stephen's visa, dog health certificates, transferring money, setting up new phones, selling/buying cars, renewing my UK driver's licence (surprisingly challenging!), finding a pet-friendly place to live, taxi transport from Paris to Oxford, getting the inventory and paperwork together to ship our possessions without import tax and deciding what to keep and what to ship. Is it worth taking bedsheets? Will they fit UK beds? [Answer: some] Is it worth taking our kitchen appliances? Will they even work? [Answer: mostly no].

Some things we anticipated being tricky, others have snuck up on us and been a total surprise. In the first few weeks of us getting serious about packing, it was relentlessly frustrating. To-do lists seemed to grow more than they shortened when I discovered nothing was as straight forward as it first appeared.

It's been an excellent challenge of my desire to control my environment. The growth for me is that I've been aware enough to see that in the frustration, I've had days where it's actually been me that's made it worse. How have I done that? In my resistance to accepting things as they are. I want things to be predictable and go as planned. We can indeed prolong our own suffering by refusing to accept what's painful.

It's like going from living on land to becoming a seafarer. I want the security of land! I want solid ground beneath my feet. Waves that crash against the boat, that demand attention I have to adjust my plans and change course? No, thanks!

...But some things remain the same (a confession)

What remains the same in all of this? Well, God does. And in some senses, I do too. I remain the same in that each day I am presented with that desire to control. To be captain of my own ship. To fight life on life's terms. One task that I took up in the McBay division of duties, was finding us a pet-friendly place to live. Given the time change between here and the UK, I needed to be up and ready to make calls between 8am and 10am to UK real estate agencies. I needed to find out what our options are and follow up on new properties that showed up online.

I made the calls. I searched the internet. I researched. Good and necessary components of working on finding us a place to live.

But then. With all the other change in our lives right now, this task became a little too all-consuming. The first thing I normally do in the morning is get a coffee and begin my prayer-time. But that started getting upended by my reaching for my phone to see if any agents had emailed overnight. I got a little fixated. It was something I started thinking I could control in the middle of everything I could not.

Stephen and I talked it out, he pointed out where I was going a little off the rails. We agreed he'd take over the phone calls. Time to let it go and hand it over.

Then, the very next day, I get an email from Wycliffe. A Christian couple have contacted them wanting to rent their place to Christians and wanting to do it via Wycliffe. As soon as I saw the email, I had an entirely unexpected rush of peace. This is it . I'd actually seen the place online but discounted for various reasons. I showed it to Stephen. We emailed back. Yes, we're in. When they emailed the next day with an offer, I teared up.

Why? Because yes, everything is changing. And yes, my desires awake the same each day wanting to live according to the Suse show where I write the script, act and direct the whole thing. But that's not all. God also remains the same. Where God calls, He will provide. He will give us what we need, when we need it. And He's given us everything we need to do what He's calling us to do today. He's there, ready and waiting for me to learn a better way to live.

The balance is challenging, because there is effort to put in and work involved in following God and being faithful. And that can easily creep into trying to do God's will our way. But it's about progress, not perfection. Growth, one day at a time.

One Last Thing

When I was a teenager the " Not my will but yours " that Jesus' uttered in Gethsemane and the call to " Take up your cross and follow me " became an internalised message that God's will is self-punishing. That I have to push myself. That I have to forgo my needs (including 8am being for prayer and not for calls to the UK). That somehow it glorifies God when I neglect to take care of myself.

But that's not what it means and it does nothing to glorify God.

I have learned that the whole idea that God's will means I have to beat myself up says more about me than it says about God. God's will gives me permission to be human. It gives me permission to have needs, to go slow, to take it one day at a time. Yes, there's sacrifice, yes, courage and faith are involved, yes sometimes I have a different view of what constitutes a need than God's(!), but God's will is fully aware that I am human. It is as I follow that He provides. I can trust Him. I can trust Him even if the waves are crashing against the boat, even if my to-do list is growing more than it's shrinking. It's okay to stop. It's okay to take a breather. I'm not the captain of the ship, He is. Everything else may change, but He remains the same. And He is merciful and good. SO good!

A Real Life Parable: Norman Baker, the Crescent Hotel & Matthew 16

Thu, 12 Oct 2023 15:41:30 GMT

Stephen and I went on a road-trip this September and visited Eureka Springs, AK. While there we toured the 1886 Crescent Hotel & Spa and heard the story of Norman G. Baker.

Norman Baker was born in 1882 and was part entrepreneur, part salesman and, well, part swindler. There’s a lot to his story but, as I understand it, he founded a hospital in Kansas that would treat cancer and other ailments, but eventually he was ousted as a fraud. Undeterred, and highly critical of the medical profession, he continued his exploitative methods and in 1937 bought the resort hotel that was the 1886 Crescent Hotel & Spa in Eureka Springs.

This luxury hotel served as an alluring backdrop and context in which to be treated for cancer. Come and experience 5 star accommodation! Experience exquisite dining, state of the art leisure activities (moving pictures!) and the famed healing springs of northern Arkansas.

The sales pitch was simple. The cancer treatment of the day was crude and the use of radium would leave people with deformities and severe burns. Unlike the physical damage from such medical treatments, Baker offered a winsome alternative: pain-free cancer treatment! Where the medical professionals might hurt you more than you heal—come to the Crescent Hotel and receive Baker’s pain-free tonic while at the spa. For the sum of $5,000 you could go on vacation and be treated for a terrible disease.

Could it get any better than that?

There was one major problem though, Baker was a fraud. The cure sounded wonderfully attractive. But his tonic did not do what he said it would do. It was a mix of random ingredients (watermelon seeds, cloves and other oddities). While Baker touted that he was in the business of life, in truth he was in the business of death.

If you got to the Crescent Hotel & Spa today you can go and see what was a very active and busy department of his hospital : the morgue .

In truth, patients left the hotel not through the front doors but through the basement after an autopsy. And it gets more gruesome still with Baker touting “proofs” of his success with the tumors he would cut out of their bodies and keep after they’d succumbed to their illness.

***

Seeing the hotel, the morgue and this particular story was like stepping into a real world (albeit extreme) example of Jesus’ words to his disciples in Matthew 16;24-26:

"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?"

It is so easy to be drawn in by things that appeal to our desire for creature comforts. A nice hotel, a fine restaurant. Grandeur. Beauty commoditized and sold. You want the world? We have it! Come buy it here! We all want an escape from the hard things in life. Pain is what it is: painful. Who wouldn’t want to say yes to a cure for the ills of life with something that that promises not to leave you bruised and battered?

It would be wonderful to be able to not hurt when bad things happen. Not weep when tragedy occurs. Not be angered at injustice. Not be disappointed when things hoped for do not come to pass. Not grieve when people we love die. Often we’re pretty good at pushing the harder feelings away, but they are never truly gone.

***

Norman Baker preyed on people’s desire for an easy way out. A short-cut. It seemed too good to be true because it was too good to be true.

Jesus is clear: if you want to save your life it means losing it. It means taking up your cross. It means facing your suffering. It means grieving. It means having your heart turned from stone back into a heart of flesh, one that aches and longs for more of the goodness of God.

One way leads to life. The other leads to the morgue.

There’s no pain-free way to deal with our spiritual sickness. Yes forgiveness is a free gift, but the work of living into it and becoming like Christ means facing the reality of our lives. If we think we're doing just great, perhaps we’re just at the spiritual equivalent of the 1886 Crescent Hotel & Spa. Facing our spiritual condition is not a matter of making sure we receive the bread and wine every week as though downing a tonic that will fix us. 1 Corinthians 11 says the opposite and warns of the danger of receiving without paying attention to our own lives: “ Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup ” (v.26).

***

I remember once doing some spiritual work that involved reflecting on my own character flaws. I thought I knew what mine were and that although it would be uncomfortable, I was pretty self-aware so I there wouldn't be any major surprises. But, as I began to read a little book on the topic, my eyes were opened. The blindness started to fall away. It was painful. It was eye-opening. It showed me some of the hard graft I needed to do, to acknowledge, own and ask for God’s help with these things. It involved some tears of confession as I shared with trusted friends the truth of my motives and intentions in some of my actions. By God's grace much has changed, but with God's grace much more change is to come as well.

It is not easy to clean up our side of the street. It takes persistent, consistent effort and willingness. It takes a willingness to trust God loves us more than we have loved ourselves or those around us. It takes a willingness to surrender our ways over for His. It takes a willingness to lay down our lives.

But in return?

In return we know the new life and love and new creation made possible through the resurrection of Jesus. We die, so He can live—and by it we really do come to know life in all its abundance.

******

An Episcopalian at Wycliffe Hall: Parker Williams

Sun, 08 Oct 2023 19:08:30 GMT

Wycliffe Hall equips students into mission and ministry around the world, including the Episcopal Church. Here's an introduction to one such student who graciously agreed to an interview!

There are over 60 new students this year at Wycliffe Hall this year. Of these, 27 are training for ordination in the Church of England which means there are lots of men and women studying for other reasons. Many of these also come from England, but many come from different places across the world. In my few days there last week, I chatted with one person who'd been in Bangladesh for the past 10 years, others who are from the USA, China, Canada and elsewhere.

The American students come from quite an interesting mix of backgrounds. In my very unofficial and anecdotal survey of which states in the US they come from, I got Georgia, Colorado, Oregon, Missouri (and even Texas a year or two back!). Some are younger, others older. Some have studied theology before. Some have not. Denominationally it's a bit of a mix too. But Wycliffe has long had a tradition of Episcopalians coming over for their seminary training. They were there when I was an undergraduate almost two decades ago.

Click here to view our full & unedited conversation.

This week I got to chat with Parker Williams, a student at Wycliffe Hall. He's a great guy who moved with his young family from Missouri to Oxford a little over a year ago to train to be a priest in the Episcopal Church. We sat down and talked about why he came to Wycliffe Hall, what he's passionate about and why he's an Episcopalian in the first place. I'm glad to be able to share this with you as an example of the kind of people Wycliffe has train for ministry.

( And best of all, while he's from Missouri he's a BIG fan of Texas BBQ. So Stephen and I are looking forward to trying out his brisket sometime. I solemnly swear to report back... )

******

Photo by Andrew Stutesman on Unsplash

Update: Welcome Week at Wycliffe

Sun, 01 Oct 2023 21:26:15 GMT

My (unofficial) first day.

Although I don't start till January, this week I’m in Oxford for the college’s “Welcome Week”. This is when new students begin to get their bearings on college life, how to use the library, where to go for lectures, which fellowship group they’re in and so on. They meet with their tutors and start to find their way into their new student lives. Some come to Wycliffe Hall from other college degrees, some from full-time Christian ministry and many (possibly most?) from various other workplaces and industries. It can be quite an adjustment!

What a great way to start life in a new community. When I was at college (both times) people would ask what I liked or disliked about the experience. The answer for both questions was the same: community. It was the people that made it so special. But it was also the people that tested my patience and brought to the surface some of my character defects.

But also: what a great way to start studying theology. To learn well means to engage generously and openly with the views of others. By no means do we have to agree with everything we read, but to be open to God’s truth and ready to receive what He might want to reveal to us starts with our willingness to see the image of God in the other person. Every time you pick up a book you’re picking up something written by someone who was made in the image of God. What a prospect! What a gift to be curious and open rather than judgemental and close-minded.

In the church we can be quite comfortable saying God is the author of all truth. Jesus said as much when he said “I am the way, the truth and the life” (John 14:6)! But we’re often less comfortable saying that means we’re NOT the authors of all truth. If it’s God’s domain, then my views are probably a very mixed bag of good and bad. Truth and falsehood. And I think that we’re perhaps only really ready to learn well when we’ve come to terms with that and willing to acknowledge that even some of our strongest held opinions might be wildly misplaced.

***

And lastly: today was a great encouragement to see how God is calling people into service in his church and beyond. There are many ordinands training to be clergy and many independent students furthering their vocation in the mission of God. I heard stories of people coming from all kinds of different backgrounds and areas of the country and many who sense God calling them onwards to under-resourced areas who are in need of renewed energy and life for the gospel. Please do pray for all the new students, the continuing ones and those preparing for curacy!

"A Test of Allegiance": A Sermon on Luke 12:49-53

Fri, 22 Sep 2023 00:17:01 GMT

This sermon on Luke 12 was given at St. Martin's Episcopal Church in August of 2019. It has been edited slightly, but otherwise in its original form.

I recently read the book “Educated,” which tells the difficult, but powerful story of Tara Westover. Born to survivalist parents who live in the mountains of Idaho, Tara was brought up off-grid in a very insulated world. She didn’t receive an education, she was never allowed to receive medical treatment and she was so unknown to the government she didn’t even have a birth certificate until she was 9. Tara spent most of her childhood learning how to salvage metal in her father’s junkyard and how to use herbs to treat all and any ailments in her mother’s kitchen. The youngest of seven, it was one of Tara’s older siblings taught her to read. One day Tara decided she wanted to get something of a more formal education so she snuck an algebra book into her room and started to learn some basic math. The radical nature of Tara’s upbringing is a story in and of itself. But the additional piece of her journey is that she suffered significant and persistent physical abuse from one of her older brothers. Abuse that was minimised, covered up and denied. She didn’t even realise it was wrong. It was her normal.

By what could be considered a miracle, Tara managed to get to university – and she slowly begins to find a worldview outside of the one she received growing up. It was this education that saved her. As time progressed and her learning continued, she found herself increasingly at odds with the views of her family. She could name the abuse for what it was. And finally, after trying to confront them and deal with the reality of how she’d been wronged, her parents cut all ties. Tara made the costly decision that living in the truth she had come to know was more important to her than the abusive relationships she grew up in. A family divided.

***

When we read the gospel reading today, I think most of us would find it hard reading. Most of us would find it hard to reconcile with our understanding of a God who is merciful, loving, compassionate and forgiving. A God who is the Prince of Peace. Yet here in unequivocal terms we hear Jesus saying he has not come to bring peace but division. How on earth do we make sense of that? How do we hear those words and respond in faith? How do we allow these words from Luke’s gospel draw us closer to Jesus?

The truth is the God we worship is both the God who Judges and the God who Forgives. And Jesus, being God in human form, is exactly the same. So when we hear his words “ I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! ” (Luke 12:49 NRSV) we hear something of the judgement Jesus brought. A judgement that faced each person as they were presented with Truth personified. In encountering Jesus – the way, the truth and the life – they (as we) were presented with a choice: will they embrace God’s truth or will they reject it for their own way? Not just in the abstract, but in the detail.

Will I respond to God as my everyday life comes under the scrutiny of Christ? As the light of God’s Word shows up my sin and failure and I experience Him saying No to my sin and the acceptance and tenderness of His Yes to me?

In accepting or rejecting God’s truth, we also choose the consequences of doing so. Eternal life with God and His goodness. Or eternal life without. Jerusalem itself had been confronted with Jesus’ truth and challenge to their religious idolatry and nationalism and they chose the latter. They rejected repentance and change and stayed with what they knew. A life where they were comfortable and had power. And so, a chapter later at the end of Luke 13, Jesus utters these words, foretelling the Roman destruction of Jerusalem as the manifestation of his judgement:

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, 'Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.'”

Jesus is the God who Judges.

But Jesus is also the God who Forgives.

He is the One suffered for our sake—who loved us enough to bring about our rescue. Yes, Jesus brings fire but he also brings salvation. “I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed!” (Luke 12:50 NRSV). Jesus is stressed! He is preoccupied with the suffering ahead. Suffering that he knows is God’s will as a means to reconcile the world to Him. While Jesus brings judgement, he also brings the means to survive that judgement. He is the means. He is going to stand in the gap on our behalf. Even though He knows that many will reject this great and costly gift.

God–even in Jesus–brings judgement. But with it He brings the means for our salvation.

But when Jesus asks " Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! " (Luke 12:51 NRSV) we hear of the consequences that we will face if we embrace the judgement and forgiveness Jesus offers. If we seek to follow Him, be faithful to him above all, we will experience conflict. If we allow his judgement in our lives to shed light on our sin and throw us back into the arms of his acceptance and forgiveness, and the grace to live differently, we will, in some way or another, suffer for it. Why is division inevitable? Because others will not make the same choice we make. Some will harden their hearts, act out of pride or shame or fear. And eventually worldviews collide and conflict ensues.

To put it another way, if we prioritise peace with God (i.e. living in a right relationship with Him and seeking to grow in Him) over and above other relationships where we might be expected “to keep the peace” in passivity and turn a blind eye, we’ll experience conflict. As we care more for what God thinks of us than those around us, we’ll find others displeased and dissatisfied that we are not playing their games and we might be rejected.

And so we come to the crux of the division Jesus brings: he will set father against son, mother against daughter and mother-in-law against daughter-in-law. Here we have probably the hardest test of allegiance: will we be faithful to God or faithful to family?

In the event the two become in opposition to one another, which would you choose?

We live in a world where some might say the role of family is being diminished. That might be true. But we also live in a world where people regularly say that the thing that is most important to them is their family. We talk about family being the important thing when it comes to what life is about. Not work. Not success. Friends come and go, but family is what matters. Blood is thicker than water.

Now God is a huge fan of family. He invented the concept. But families, like all things, are broken, flawed and marred by sin. And like we do with so many things we often idolise the gift of family, rather than worship the giver, God himself.

The test of allegiance we all face in greater or lesser ways is this: will my allegiance to God as revealed in Jesus Christ be greater than my allegiance to anything of this world, including my family relationships? Am I willing, should the need arise, to forgo those relationships most dear to me for the sake of my relationship with God? If I receive heat over a decision I make, something I sense God is asking to me do, that someone says is too risky, too generous or too foolish, will I follow God anyway? If I find that God calls me to call out something in my family that is not as it should be, maybe something psychology might call dysfunctional but we might call sinful, will I do so no matter the cost?

***

Tara Westover had her eyes opened by her education. By coming face to face with more of the truth about reality it cast a different light on her family life and eventually led to division. But it wasn’t out of spite, hatefulness or even anger that she left. In an interview she said she recognised her parents love for her was real, but unfortunately so too was their radicalism and the abuse. Despite her parents’ treatment of her, she writes about them with compassion and kindness. One review of her story said:

“ This story, remarkable as it is, might be merely another entry in the subgenre of extreme American life, were it not for the uncommon perceptiveness of the person telling it. Westover examines her childhood with unsparing clarity, and, more startlingly, with curiosity and love, even for those who have seriously failed or wronged her. ”[1]

Tara’s story is one of division, but not because of her resentment, it followed as world views collided and people she loved hardened their hearts to her. A prophet without honour in her own home.

In Jesus we don’t have just some of the truth about reality. We have the Truth itself. Reality itself. John 8:31-32 says "If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free." (John 8:31-32 NRSV) If we continue in God’s word – follow Him, turn our will and our life over to Him daily – we will experience more and more of His truth and the freedom that comes with it. We will know increasing peace with God, but also, at times, greater conflict with others, even our own families. But when it comes down to it, when the rubber hits the road, the question is one of allegiance. Which peace will we choose? Peace with God from following Him and seeing His faithfulness as we take risks in His name? Or peace with others that keeps our idols, our pride, or our sense of safety intact? Who will get your allegiance?

******

[1] Review by Alexandra Schwartz for the New Yorker, https://www.newyorker.com/recommends/read/educated-by-tara-westover

My Last Rodeo? Yes, we're moving (back) to the Motherland!

Wed, 30 Aug 2023 16:14:42 GMT

From cowboy hats and Tex-Mex to tea, biscuits and (proper) football!

Your Questions: Why do we call God Father?

Wed, 02 Aug 2023 20:56:21 GMT

An exploration in the scope and limits of why we call God "our Father"

Recently there was a bit of a furore over something the Archbishop of York said about "Our Father" in the Lord's Prayer. I wasn't there. I don't know the context of what he was saying and I don't know to what extent news coverage and social media posts are click-bait, reactionary or reflective of genuine issues. Some have said he was just acknowledging that for some people "Our Father" are tough words to pray. Others have said the Archbishop was saying we need to get rid of language that calls God "Father". I don't know which it is, but it brings up a good question: why do we call God "Father"?

***

Calling God "Father" is something that is found throughout Christian faith and belief. Not only is it the opening words to the Lord’s Prayer, it’s in the Creeds (“I believe in God the Father”), in our worship songs (“How deep the Father’s love for us”), in liturgy (if we we’re from a liturgical tradition) not to mention frequently found throughout the New Testament. As Christians we believe in the Trinity and the chief term we use to describe one person of the Trinity is “Father.” Books are written and many a sermon preached on the “father heart of God.”

So, if it’s important, it’s probably also important for us to think about what we actually mean by it?! In addition, it would be wise to consider what we don’t mean when we describe God as this paternal figure: what are the limits of this metaphor? In general conversation (and on social media) over the years, I’ve heard people say God is “our Father” because he’s more a father than a mother. This approach defines a father in essence as a not-mother. Think of it this way: if father and mother roles are laid over each other like a venn diagram, why we call God father is because He is not the unique qualities of the mother that don’t overlap. Some try to explain this as innate or essential qualities of a father over a mother. Examples include that the father is the strong and rational parent where the mother is nurturing and tender. Or the father is the disciplinarian where the mother is the one who consoles. One I heard recently is that a father makes a choice to love their child in a way that comes naturally to the mother who has (usually) carried the child to term. But for all these stereotypes there are so many exceptions. The underlying issue is that they’re all based on experience, they’re highly subjective. This creates the inevitable problem that if my understanding of the role of a father is different from yours, we’re probably never going to agree on how to understand God as father! Not only is this a nightmare for consensus, but it’s also an example of eisegesis – reading into biblical texts ideas and concepts that aren’t native to it. And I’ve yet to find evidence that supports this sort of psychology-lite interpretation of why God is “our Father”.

A much better source of understanding for what it means seems to me to be what we actually find from the biblical world and biblical texts. Father, in a biblical context was the senior figure in the patriarchal family system (and please note I’m using patriarchal here to describe an ancient social system not a byword for the systematic oppression of women). In the Bible this set-up is often indicated by the description of “my father’s house” (e.g. Gen 12:1, 31:30, Judges 11:2, 1 Sam 22:15, 1 Macc 16:2 and 4 Macc 18:7). The key then is what was the role of the father within this system? Rather than try and fit modern ideas about family or parental roles onto ancient texts, it’s much better to try and understand the metaphors on their own terms. Once we’ve established what they mean in an ancient context, then we can think about what the implications are for today.

Let’s start by sketching out a little more of the biblical patriarchal social system. While it changed in how it looked over time from the time of the Patriarchs to the monarchic period and then after the exile, the fundamental ideas are still the same.[1] In the earlier times, the father was head of the household over his wife (and possibly wives), children, other brothers and unwed sisters, servants & slaves (male and female). The father was the one who owned the property and wielded power and authority.[2] He was the one to provide for those within the household—hence why the OT commands extra care and attention for the widow, orphan and foreigner. These were the folk that didn’t have the protection or provision of a patriarch, a dangerous reality the book of Ruth illustrates well.

By the time of the New Testament, the father was still head of the household but the size was scaled back significantly—as more mouths meant more expenditure. More than one wife wasn’t just a recipe for familial strife: it was expensive! Yet even though the households were smaller, the loyalty to the father is still assumed. There’s the disciple who wanted to go and “bury his father” first before following Jesus (Matt 8:21). His loyalty is to his kinship group and his father. James and John are working for their father Zebedee when they are called. In John 4:53 the father comes to believe which results in the whole household also believing. The responsibilities of levirate marriage are still present, whether or not it was regular practice (Mark 12:18-23). And consider the household of the father of the prodigal son: it consisted not only of the father and two brothers but also servants and slaves (Luke 15:19, 26).

So where does God as “Father” come in?

Interestingly, in the Old Testament, God is rarely described as Father. It happens just a handful of times (cf, Isaiah 63:16, 64:8, Deut 32:6, Psa 103:13, Prov 3:12) and is tied to God as the one through whom his people have life, have been redeemed and are shown compassion. But for the most part the description of God as father is absent in the Old Testament.[3] In contrast to the Old Testament, the New frequently uses the title “Father” for God. What’s interesting is where it particularly crops up:

(1) The Father as One who Provides

If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children,

how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him! (Matt 7:11)

One of the most common contexts in which we find God described as Father is in connection with His role as one who provides for our needs. In Matthew 7 and Luke 11 there are the passages about God providing good gifts to His children. Likewise in James 1:13 God is the “Father of lights” and is the one from whom every good and perfect gift comes. In James, this characteristic of God as Father is set in contrast with exhortation elsewhere not to trust in other benefactors. It’s interesting to note that the famous “true religion” verse in James 1:27 (that to care for widows and orphans is true religion) is tied to religion before “God, the Father”. To care for the widow and orphan is to care for those who do not have the protection and safety of the patriarchal family unit, but because of “God, the Father” we offer exactly that because we are the adopted children of the ultimate spiritual Patriarch![4]

God as the Father who provides is also the found in the Lord’s Prayer: we address God as Father and then He is the one we ask to “give us our daily bread.” In the feeding miracle in John 6, the Father is the one who provides true bread (John 6:32). Elsewhere the Father also is the one who prepares for our future (John 14) and the one who provides consolation in our affliction (2 Cor 1:3). God as Father provides for the needs of his household both material and spiritual. Most significantly, God as Father has provided for our eternal safety – through the Cross of Jesus Christ and the death of His only Son.

(2) The Father as a Figure of Authority

In accompaniment with the Father as one who provides, in the NT God as Father is also shown as an authority figure and the one we are to trust by following His instruction and showing loyalty. Jesus is clear in Matthew 12:50 that if we are to be part of Jesus’ family, namely his mother, sister or brother, we are to do the will of the Father—it’s not about biology. In the passage about secret prayer and almsgiving in Matthew 6, it is the Father who sees our faithfulness and will reward. In Gethsemane in Luke 22:42, Jesus addresses the Father when in conflict about surrendering to God’s will. Indeed Jesus’ own authority as Son is derived from that of the Father (John 5:43) – a point of great indignation for the Jewish leaders (John 5:18).

Fathers as authority figures to whom obedience is due is well-reflected in John 8:41-44 in which Jesus has a discussion with some Jews. Jesus tells those he’s talking to that Abraham is not really their father because if he were they “would be doing as Abraham did” (v.39). Instead they are harboring violence against Jesus. The men respond by appealing that God is their father (v.40), but Jesus is clear if that was the case, they would love Jesus (v.42). Jesus’ conclusion is that their disobedience means that their father is really the devil (v.44): one who is a murderer and liar. Fathers are an authority figure who children honor through obedience and acting in line with their desires.

Call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father—the one in heaven. (Matt 23:9)

What is interesting about this authority is that in this passage it is not found in contrast to mothers but in contrast to other fathers. Elsewhere, in Mark 3:35, the parallel (and probable original) to Matthew 12:50, Jesus simply says we are to do the will of “God” to be part of Jesus’ family. No familial reference with respect to God himself. Yet the only roles there are to take within Jesus’ family are mother, sister and brother. Why? Because the role of father is already taken. We have only one authority figure: God himself. Matthew 23:9 puts it plainly: “call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father—the one in heaven.” It would be ridiculous for Matthew to mean that we aren’t to have biological fathers: the point here is about having loyalties that compete with God as our authority figure over all. Who do we trust for provision or safety instead of God? Where are our loyalties greater to a person or an institution than to God?

The inevitable issue with trusting in God over competing authorities is that it is costly. Our allegiance with our heavenly Father will lead to rejection and hostility. It will get us in trouble. It may even cost us our human families (Luke 12:52-53). Yet the assurance is clear: whoever makes such costly sacrifices of “brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields…” will receive “brothers and sisters, mothers and children” in the age to come (Mark 10:30). But notice “father” only appears in what we lose—we won’t gain new fathers in the age to come (like we will siblings or mothers) because in the spiritual, eschatological family, we only have God as our Father.

(3) The Father’s Ethic of Love

Lastly, the ethic of God’s household is what marks it out as distinctive and different. In John 8, the devil as father is murderous and hides the truth. But if God is your Father, the ethic is love. Love is the ethic of all parties God’s house. It is found between the Father and the Son (John 3:35, 5:20, 10:17, 14:31). And our obedience to God is to come from love and our love is shown through our obedience (cf. John 14, esp v. 21 & 23 and 15:9-16). The Father showed the nature of His love for us through the sacrifice of his Son (3:16) and our adoption as his children (1 John 3:1). The Son shows us his love through his willingness to die for us (John 13:1) and we are called to show this sacrificial love (15:12-13). The Father’s love is what we are to remain in and live from (15:9)—it is clear that love is something revealed by Godself and not a general unique quality. How do we know this? Because our allegiance to the Father’s love results in rejection (and not love) from the world (15:18-25). This love ethic is not general but rooted in the Father's revealed love and therefore our love in return is shown in loyalty to His.

See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. (1 John 3:1)

In Conclusion

Why do we address God as Father? It is not because He is not maternal or exhibits stereotypically characteristics of motherhood (e.g. nurturing or tender). God is not our “Father” as opposed to mother. He is “our Father” because (in part) he is the chief of the clan. He is head honcho. To a first century audience to describe God as “mother” excludes the reality of God’s power and authority. God as “mother” leaves one to wonder whose household God resides in? Whose authority is He under—and how can God be God if He is under another authority? Or we might end up concerned for God’s safety(!)—if God as mother is a widow like Naomi and has no one to protect him. God is now vulnerable along with the orphan and the foreigner. Yes, these questions might seem a bit silly, but this is why context matters!

God as the “Patriarch” is also one who provides for us and keeps safe and the one into whose family we have been adopted as “sons” (and I use “son” as in this system the inheritance rights belonged to Jewish sons). Through the Cross we have been adopted into God’s family as children (not slaves) and we get to address this loving authority figure as our Father, Abba. We do so as “sons” – those who are entitled to inherit. But God is not male or more male than female. God is no more male as “our Father” than I am male as a “son” of God. Yet there is a pretty clear and consistent connection between God as Father and our obedience and willingness to follow His will. He is the one to whom everything belongs (indeed He made it…) and those in His house are to do His will and show Him our loyalty. Our kinship is now to be to God over and above all other ties–our relationships with our human fathers and non-paternal authority figures of any kind. This can be costly. It can also be healing.

Jesus invited his followers to call God “our Father” as a representation of what it means to come near to God and be in relationship with Him. For some of us that can take a minute to work out—many of us have been burned and hurt by authority figures in the past (male and female), so why would we trust God in this way? Well, this is the work of the Spirit through the Cross which begins with the tiniest bit of faith or willingness. It is possible to discover that “our Father” is not like authority figures of our past. What makes Him worthy and safe to trust as this authority figure—is that the chief characteristic and ethic of His household is love.

***

[1] For a look at how it functioned by the time of the NT, see Samuel Adams’ book Social and Economic Life in Second Temple Judea (WJK Books, 2014).

[2] E.g. When Abraham w as circumcised it was not just him—or him and his son Ishmael—but Abraham and all the men in his household (Gen 17:23-27). Isaac’s house was becoming too prosperous, so King Abimelech sends him away (Gen 26).

[3] As a side note, it would be interesting to look at God as father in relationship to divine kingship ideology in the Old Testament, but that’s more than I’m able to cover in an already longer than planned blog post

[4] Romans 8 and Galatians 3-4.

The Tenderness of God

Fri, 28 Jul 2023 17:43:59 GMT

A little exploration of God's tenderness in different parts of Scripture.

In one prayer time recently, I felt the nudge to revisit some passages that speak of God’s tenderness – a virtue so at odds with the world. Virtues like this often get a bad rap as though if we take them on we’ll inevitably leave ourselves open to abuse or bullying or becoming the proverbial doormat.

But in terms of God’s self, when we come to Him in our brokenness, facing the sins we’re struggling to shake or the wounded parts of ourselves that seem resistant to the gospel, it is precisely this virtue (and others like it: gentleness, meekness etc) that invite us to break out of our mistrust and believe that God is truly worthy to be believed. That perhaps even the most shame-filled, hidden areas within us might find freedom and hope in the light of this tender-hearted God. That maybe we can move out of our fears into the fulness of faith.

This is by no means an exhaustive or academic study on God’s tenderness that I offer, just a few reflections and observations on a cursory look around the Bible to see verses that might encourage when our hearts are discouraged.

A bruised reed He will not break

God’s tenderness means in our vulnerability we are safe. There are a number of passages where we can draw comfort on this, but I’ve always found Matthew 12 compelling. In the midst of several stories of Jesus providing, healing and delivering people in need, we get these verses quoted from Isaiah 42:1-4:

“Here is my servant, whom I have chosen,
my beloved, with whom my soul is well pleased.
I will put my Spirit upon him,
and he will proclaim justice to the gentiles.

He will not wrangle or cry aloud,
nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets.
He will not break a bruised reed
or quench a smoldering wick
until he brings justice to victory.
And in his name the gentiles will hope.”

He will not break a bruised reed. He will not step into the state of our souls with size 9s that give no heed to where we are bruised or hurting. Our God is not a god of rough religion. He cares about what is right, what is just. He needs not yell or scream to be heard. Indeed this verse is quoted right when Jesus advises the crowds not to share widely what they’ve seen. The work of the Spirit will blow where it will and things grow when the time is right. Jesus did not need to force the work God had entrusted to Him. He was in step and led by the Spirit. Not by the strength of humankind...

He embraces children – and we are to be like them!

“Neither do I condemn you”

John 8 tells the famous story of Jesus and the woman caught “in the very act” of adultery and dragged out before Jesus. Jesus’ words cause all her accusers to depart. And then neither does Jesus condemn (though he makes it clear it’s time for a change). Romans 8:1 also clearly reminds us: “Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

But when it comes to God’s tenderness in relation to forgiveness and freedom, this verse summed it up for me:

“With my mouth I will give great thanks to the Lord;
I will praise him in the midst of the throng.

For he stands at the right hand of the needy,
to save them from those who would condemn them to death.”

(Psalm 109:31)

Perhaps it’s accusers that stand before us like the Jewish leaders stood before the woman in John 8. Perhaps it’s the accuser within that says we are stupid or foolish or shameful or a mistake or unworthy or hateful.

To draw from the Apocrypha for a moment, Wisdom 12:15 says this of God:

"You are righteous, and you rule all things righteously,
deeming it alien to your power
to condemn anyone who does not deserve to be punished."

Yet how much more we have through the One who took our punishment! Those who don’t deserve it aren’t condemned. And through Christ even those who do deserve it aren’t condemned.

To wrap up

1 John 3 is well worth a read on this topic. As we seek to grow and go forward in this tender love of God, we learn God can be trusted. Where our hearts aren’t quite there yet and still condemn us – we learn that God is greater than such accusations (v.20). And where our hearts have fully learned to trust God’s tender heart and know we are not condemned, then we discover a confidence we never knew was possible.

The miracle of knowing God’s tenderness is that as we come to experience and know it for ourselves, what happens is not that we become weak and liable to abuse. No! What happens is we become exactly who He made us to be—people who can truly share His love with others. He turns our hearts of stone into hearts of flesh. Hearts that can love just as He loves us.

***

Photo credits:

Bird & Reeds by . philographism on Unsplash

Three girls by Muhammad-taha Ibrahim on Unsplash

Who am I? Bonhoeffer & the Lord's Prayer: A Reflection

Wed, 12 Jul 2023 16:10:59 GMT

What has God been teaching me in this six month break?

The first thing I've been reminded of is this: vocation has nothing to do with my value

A good few years ago, when I was a newly ordained priest, I happened to be at the diocesan office for a meeting with the Bishop. It was there that I had a realisation: “ Is this it? ”

In the moment I asked myself that question, God revealed something to me. Namely that I had subconsciously started to lean on my vocation for my identity. I was not doubting that God has called me to me ordained ministry. He’d made that crystal clear: out of the blue (and way outside my desires), God had called me. It had taken years to get there, but on that particular day in the diocesan office I realised that this vocation was finally manifest. And not only was that the case, but I had loaded onto it my sense of who I was and my value. Something it was never designed to bear.

Yet how often we try to do just that very thing! It seems to me that Genesis 3 is clear that this kind of mistake is part of the human post-Eden condition. Consider the three ways in which sin’s entrance into the world disrupts and disorders our lives. It disfigures:

Our relationship with the created world (“I will put enmity between you [the serpent] and the woman” in 3:15 and “cursed is the ground because of you [Adam]” in 3:17)
Our relationship with others (God says to the woman: “I will make your pangs in childbirth exceedingly great… your desire shall be for your husband yet he shall rule over you” in 3:16)
Our relationship with work and productivity (God says to the man: “In toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you… by the sweat of your face you shall eat bread” in 3:17-19)

It is part and parcel of the brokenness of the whole cosmos that our relationship with work is out-of-whack . It is hard, it is painful, it goes wrong and we often use it—like Adam & Eve used fig leaves—to cover our vulnerabilities, our nakedness and our shame. We can make it our identity, that which makes us confident and secure and gives us a sense of power and prestige. " I am a successful doctor/engineer/nurse/priest/lawyer. If this is who I am, then I must be okay!"

Gratefully I’ve come a long way since my ordination. But I’ll confess, stepping out of work for 6 months isn’t the straightforward breeze I fantasized it might be (though I am very grateful for the break). I didn’t magically become a kid again enjoying the boredom and freedom of summer break, free of responsibility or burden. There are bills to be paid, cooking, cleaning, dogs to be walked, and problems to be solved (specifically injured dogs, bust hard drives and expensive car repairs...). But more than that, stepping out of the employment stratosphere has brought up some questions.

Who am I when I’m not “producing”? Contributing or actively giving back to society? When I’m not preaching or pastoring or planning a worship service?

Who am I when the busyness is dialed back and I start seeing why I like to keep so busy in the first place?

***

Learning from those who came before: the wisdom of Bonhoeffer

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a Lutheran pastor and theologian during the Second World War. He spent the last two years of his life (aged 37-39) in prison. He wrote many letters and reflections and he built some relationships in prison and offered some pastoral advice and care. But it was not an easy time, not least because of the inevitability that he would not get out of prison alive. Bonhoeffer wrote a poem, Who am I? , that explores how he was outwardly perceived by his prison-mates versus the fears he felt on the inside. Which one tells him of his identity?

Am I really then what others say of me?
Or am I only what I know of myself?

Bonhoeffer tells of how he was positively seen by others as confident, faithful and contented. “ I come out of my cell… Like a lord from his palace .” Those outside tell him he has value. He is doing well. He is a positive example. Yet Bonhoeffer’s insides tell a different story. “ Tired and empty at praying, at thinking, at doing, Drained and ready to say goodbye to it all .” His insides tell a story of a fearful, exhausted man ready for it all to be over.

Am I one person today and another tomorrow?
Am I both at once? In front of others, a hypocrite,
And to myself a contemptible, fretting weakling?
Or is something still in me like a battered army,
running in disorder from a victory already achieved?
Who am I? These lonely questions mock me.
Whoever I am, You know me, I am yours, O God.

The poem concludes with the reassurance that whatever Bonhoeffer is – whoever he is – he is God’s. Nothing else will get him an answer that satisfies. The external world of affirmation and esteem from others. The internal world of our insecurities and fears. Only in God, only in knowing we belong to God, will we begin to find an answer that gives any real satisfaction.

***

Breaking the cycle with the Lord’s Prayer

In my experience, learning this lesson – that I am God’s – takes active and applied effort over the whole course of one's life. I need practices that help me cultivate habits of trust and cast aside old habits of fear. There are a few seasons of my life it has flowed easily, but many it has not. And whatever the cause, here’s one way I have found that to pray and actively shift my focus to finding my identity in God:

Give us today our daily bread

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.

How do these two petitions from the Lord's Prayer help me with my identity? Good question!

There’s a great saying from the recovery community: “ Stop going to a hardware store to buy milk! ” Stop trying to meet your needs in the wrong places and then wonder why you're so dissatisfied. Trying again won’t make success any more likely. The two lines above from the Lord’s Prayer offer a way to step out of the hardware store and a way to find spiritual milk where such milk can only be found.

In our sinful human nature, we do the following. We have needs and we try to meet these needs in all kinds of ways that will never work or bring lasting peace and contentment. Maybe I use my profession to get my value and self-worth, but that will only last for a while (or I’ll end up sacrificing myself on the altar of success). Perhaps you find your value in the strength of your relationship with your spouse or your children. It meets your need to matter or be seen or heard or understood. But when we misplace or get out of order the things God has created (i.e. work, family, relationship etc) we end up in idolatry, hurting ourselves and others . We’ll react to others negatively when they become unable to meet the needs we’ve somehow expected them to satisfy. We might feel hurt, resentful, unappreciated, even angry. And more to the point, we completely forget to factor God into the equation. The God of all creation, who has conquered sin and death, who is almighty, all-loving and all-powerful—that same God!—slips down our priority list and out of sight.

But with the Lord’s Prayer, I am given words to pray that help a divine reordering take place. I am God's so I trust my needs to Him. I am God's so I let go of the patterns of expectation and resentment that seek other things or people to satisfy me. It gives me a way through which I can step out of my chaotic and idolatrous thinking:

Give us today our daily bread becomes a petition and a reminder that God is the One who meets my needs both practical and spiritual. Where I can name my needs before Him and trust He will provide: Lord, I am worried about paying my bills this month. Show me how to trust that you will provide and see me through this tough time. Lord, I fear I don’t matter. Help me know my value is in you. Lord, I ache with loneliness and feeling unloved. Meet that deep need and show me I am never alone. Give me to today my daily bread.

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us becomes a way for me to step out of the cycle and shame and blame that I’ve participated in: God, I let go of resentments where people haven’t provided what I’d expected them to provide: God, forgive me where I have wronged others and made demands from them that they could never meet. Forgive me where I have taken things you have given me and trusted in them rather than you. Forgive me my sins as I forgive those who sin against me.

My identity is to be in God, not in others' view of me or my own fears about myself. So I trust my needs to Him. I put off old ways that put my identity in other places.

***

In Conclusion...

In this six month season of rest and preparation, I am reminded of this: I am God’s . I belong to God.

The reason I confuse my identity at times is because I am trusting in something other than God to satisfy, to meet my needs. It might be for me vocation or work, but it could be anything - you can fill in your own equivalent. In praying the Lord’s Prayer, in actively believing Bonhoeffer’s words “ Whoever I am, You know me, I am yours, O God ,” I ground myself in God, I renew my trust in Him and – happily – am freed to do the things God is calling me to do without burdening them with things they were never made to bear.

God, I am willing to surrender my fears

and to place my will and my life

in Your care one day at a time.

Grant me the wisdom to know the difference

between the things I can and cannot change.

Help me to remember that I can ask for help.

I am not alone.

Amen.

New Musing: What's with the Chapters and Verses in the Bible?

Mon, 26 Jun 2023 01:23:49 GMT

The latest question I received: "Do the chapters and verses in the Bible help us understand the structure of the message of a given book?”

(Check out the Musings page of susemcbay.com is my Q&A page - a place for people to submit questions they may have about life, faith, the Bible and theology, and space to submit your own question!)

I recently had this question from a student working on an assignment I’d set (on Revelation). It’s a good one. We naturally open up our Bibles see the chapters and verses (and even the paragraph breaks) and think that’s where the author intended the break to be.

So what do we do when we open up a translation of Scripture? Or even the Greek and Hebrew which also divides by chapter and verse?

The first thing to know is this: the original texts did NOT have chapters and verses.

This came much later. I’ll be honest, I don’t know all that much about the specifics, other than that it was something that appeared from the 13th century onwards. Turns out with all the books Stephen and I have, I couldn’t find one that could give me some history on it.

Whatever the reason for their creation, they're ultimately just an interpretation. A way of understanding and making sense of the text but not by the original authors and the early church who recognized the spiritual authority of these texts and received them into the canon Side note: the “canon” are the books of the Bible that are recognized to have authority. Thus 1 Enoch is non-canonical for most Christians, except for the Ethiopian Orthodox].

The second thing to know is: paragraphs and subheadings can be misleading as well.

Take Ephesians 5:22, the famous “Wives, submit to your husbands” verse. It’s often put at the top of a new paragraph or even a new section of the letter to the Ephesians as though a new topic and line of thought is being introduced.

But it’s not that straightforward. The word “submit” isn’t even there in the Greek. It’s in the previous verse and it is dependent on that verse to understand what the message is. I.e. “submit to one another out of reverence for Christ (v.21), wives to your husbands… (v.22).”

So the paragraph should start at v.21, right?

Well, that’s also not straightforward! Because v.21 is dependent on the verses that come before it as well. [Side note: Ephesians is guilty of long Greek sentences that run on and on and this is a great example of that]. In grammatical terms the “submit” in v.21 is a participle (among a list of participles) that is dependent on v.18 “Do not get drunk on wine… but be filled with the Spirit”. Submitting to one another is one of the things that is part and parcel of a Spirit-filled life!

So what do we do? Do we all need to learn Greek and Hebrew? Go back to scrolls and original manuscripts?

Well, I’d never want to say don’t learn a biblical language. It’s great! If you feel a call to theological learning – go for it. That said, the main English translations of Scripture (NRSVue, NIV, ESV, NASB etc) were put together by many scholars who have studied these things and done their best (according to their conscience and theological learning and faith) and have had to make decisions along the way. I don’t agree with every decision in any of those translations, but that doesn’t stop me using them. Because (a) I’m learning too, (b) I’m grateful we have translations and less worried about them being perfect and (c) in this day and age I can always compare translations and see what they reveal. There may be a few places of disagreement but we have in common far more than that which separates us. Only God is the one who holds all truth in His hand--and he bears with us in our imperfections.

So Ephesians 5:21-22 is one of those points of disagreement, that doesn't have to stop us being grateful for the faithful work of those who have attempted the hard work of translating the Bible into a language we can all understand.

Have your own question? Submit it here here .

New Musing: Who wrote Revelation?

Fri, 09 Jun 2023 14:22:14 GMT

Got a question? I'll try and answer it!

The Musings page of susemcbay.com is my Q&A page - a place for people to submit questions they may have about life, faith, the Bible and theology, and I'll do my best to give a brief answer. I'm aiming to answer 1-2 questions a month, but we'll see how things go and I may adjust from there! Here's one question I received...

Question: “It seems to me that John of Patmos would be given "extra credence" if he were the John of the 4th Gospel, but it seems so much time had elapsed. What's the "orthodox" thinking on this, and what is the more modern thinking?”

Who is the John that wrote Revelation?

Revelation 1:4 attributes the recipient of the visions in the book to God’s servant John. This John is the one sending this letter to the seven churches (1:9). He is John “your brother” who was “on the island called Patmos [an island off the coast near Ephesus]” (1:9). Towards the end of Revelation he is identified as one from among the prophets (22:8-9). It’s highly likely that he’s of Jewish origin, given the richness of the Old Testament imagery in Revelation. However, little else is written to give us clues as to the identity of this John of Patmos—who he was and his backstory and his place within the early church.

It’s worth noting, for the sake of the question asked, that I’m going to put aside the question of pseudonymity (i.e. the belief that some of the New Testament texts were written using the name of a key apostle or figures in the Christian church, perhaps as a nod to that figure’s teaching and understanding of the gospel). Because whether or not Revelation is pseudonymous, the name John is still the name that was used. It’s either the name of the author himself or the name of person that a not-John considered important enough to use in his book.

So the question remains: which John is it?

As mentioned, Revelation itself gives very little away. If you compare it to the Greek of the material attributed to John the Apostle (and brother of James, one of the Sons of Thunder from Mark 3:17), it’s significantly different. So there’s not much of a textual case to tie John of Patmos to John the Apostle. (Although that also gets muddy pretty quickly, as few would go with John the Apostle as the author of the Fourth Gospel…)

What evidence do we have?

Well, there’s a significant amount of extrabiblical corroboration from the early church that John of Patmos was John the apostle.

Justin Martyr, in the early 2nd century, identified it with John the apostle (Dial. 81:15), as did Irenaeus, although the latter describes him not as an apostle but as the “disciple of the Lord” (Adv. Haer. 4.14.1; 5.26.1). Interestingly Irenaeus had a personal connection to him as well. Irenaeus had known Polycarp in his youth—who was a close associate of John’s. Clement of Alexandria, Tertullian, Papias and Origen all accept this identification of John of Patmos as John the Apostle. Although agreement wasn’t universal (e.g. Eusebius and Dionysius), the general view of the early church does identify the author of Revelation with John, the brother of James, disciple of Jesus and eventual apostle.

Modern scholars are more skeptical. As mentioned, John is nowhere identified as an apostle in the book of Revelation, only a prophet and a brother. Likewise, there’s no personal testimony of knowing Jesus as one of the twelve disciples. And not only is he identified as a prophet but clearly one of a group of prophets (22:9). It’s possible that this in itself counts against identification with the apostle, because (as far as I’m aware) there’s little that identifies John the apostle as taking on the role of prophet.

Dionysius, bishop of Alexandria, questioned the John the apostle identification because of the differences between the Greek of Revelation and that of the Fourth Gospel, although that only matters if John the apostle wrote the Gospel (see how confusing it all gets?). He mentions two monuments to two Johns in Ephesus, with the implication being the non-apostle could be the one of Patmos (cf. Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. 7.25).

So which is it? Who was the enigmatic prophet and Jewish believer, John of Patmos? The biblical evidence is slim to identify him with the disciple-turned-apostle. The early church evidence is wide that it was. Modern scholarship (as well as Bishop Dionysius) isn’t persuaded for some good reasons.

What do you think?

Like this answer? Have your own question? Submit it here here .

Becoming Fire

Fri, 02 Jun 2023 17:04:56 GMT

"Becoming Fire" (ed. Tim Vivian, Liturgical Press, 2008)

"WATERING A PIECE OF DRY WOOD

It was said of Abba John the Little that he withdrew and lived in the desert at Scetis with an old man of Thebes. His abba, taking a piece of dry wood, planted it and said to him, 'Water it every day with a bottle of water, until it bears fruit'.

Now the water was so far away that he had to leave in the evening and return the following morning. At the end of three years the wood came to life and bore fruit. Then the old man took some of the fruit and carried it to the church, saying to the brothers, 'Take and eat the fruit of obedience'."

(cf. Gen 3:1-7. Reading from May 29, p.222, Becoming Fire )

Becoming Fire is one of the books I've cycled into my morning prayer time recently. Inspired by reading another book on orthodox spirituality, I decided to get my own copy of this book I've much appreciated for a while (my husband having the copy I'd previously used).

This particular extract, from the readings for May 29, reminds me how much faithful obedience to God is not exercised in the way we often wish it were. The temptation is to prefer obedience we understand or comprehend. Obedience that works within our frame of thinking and understanding of how the world (or in this instance, creation) works.

Obedience is only transformative when it is done by taking the risk of setting aside what we think or believe. When obedience flies in the face of our understanding. When it takes faith. To water a plank of wood, planted in the dirt? Surely it would quickly rot and decompose and perhaps feed the soil. It is not a seed or a plant cutting.

And yet with faithful, repetitive, persistent obedience a miracle happens. The wood bears fruit. And the fruit of that obedience feeds the life of the people.

"They [the disciples] went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, ‘Children, you have no fish, have you?’ They answered him, ‘No.’ He said to them, ‘Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.’ So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, ‘It is the Lord!’ When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the lake. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off." ( John 21:3-8)

This one doesn't come from Becoming Fire but (as is obvious) from the Bible. The disciples had fished and they had fished and they had failed to catch even the smallest minnow. Jesus says " fish from the other side ." They know what the result should be. They had labored and labored and nothing was forthcoming. But they obeyed, despite their knowing. The result? A haul of fish that was too big to bring into the boat. A catch that then fed God's people: the breakfast Jesus and the disciples shared (John 21:9-14).

Over the past few months I have been working on fundraising. Something about which I knew nothing. But something that God is making happen even with my ignorance and my mistakes. It all started with a moment of obedience despite what I thought I knew. When I was first asked about the possibility of raising the money needed, everything in my head said that it was not possible. That it was a silly idea. However, over the past couple of years, God has been taking me on a spiritual journey that started from one simple realisation: my way of looking at things ain't right. Somewhere, like a squeaky wheel on a shopping cart, I'd got into a tangled mess. On this journey, when presented with actions and spiritual disciplines that seemed alien & bizarre, I'd taken the plunge because I knew one thing for sure: my way wasn't cutting it. If the option in front of me was the opposite of what I thought made sense, then perhaps I should do it, maybe precisely because of that!

So when asked about the possibility of fundraising, the moment of clarity before me was this: my thoughts are just my thoughts . They've how I've tried to understand reality, but they are not actually reality itself. And maybe, just maybe, this IS possible and I've got things backwards. Or maybe it isn't but God would work a miracle. Who knows. But it was worth taking a risk. Talking to someone. Getting wise counsel. Seeing if I was wrong and that this might bear fruit.

Over the months since then, that first call to obedience has been reissued again and again. Do I think this is possible? Are my thoughts just thoughts or are they reality? Will I let go of what I think and step out in faith anyway? Talk to someone. Ask for help. Invite others into God's work. It's been challenging, scary and yet also enlightening. It's shown me many fears and anxieties that I've needed to hand over. And it's shown (or rather, is showing) me how God brings about fruit through obedience, even obedience that seems like the impossible. Obedience that begins with faith.

C'est fini!

Mon, 22 May 2023 20:43:51 GMT

Last day at Riverway... all done for real now!

The keys have been handed in. My office is empty. My email has been turned off. It's official...!

Yesterday I preached my last sermon (for now) at Riverway. It was so special in so many ways. Stephen and I were really humbled at the turn out for the service and the reception. There are too many thank-yous to mention! For those who have written cards, given gifts, offered encouraging words, generous hugs and more. We leave St. Martin's humbled, grateful and feeling very loved.

I can't post the text of my last sermon at Riverway here because I preach from notes and they only really make sense to me. But all Riverway sermons are videoed and then posted to their social media accounts, so by virtue of modern technology, here it is in it's fullness:

Like I said in the message - it was a nice hat-tip from God that my last sermon at Riverway should be on the same text as the last sermon I gave at my previous church while at seminary (Holy Trinity, Lenton). That scripture? 1 Peter 5:6-7, the passage God calls me back to again and again and again.

"Humble yourselves therefore

under the mighty hand of God,

so that he may exalt you in due time.

Cast all your anxiety on him,

because he cares for you."

And just for fun and so I can preserve it for future record, here's the fun little thank you reel of some of my "best" moments that Riverway posted yesterday. :-)

That's enough for now. More soon.

So what's next?

Fri, 19 May 2023 01:04:56 GMT

So what's next for the McBays?

So what am I up to? Why a website? What's happening?

Stephen and I have been married almost ten years. We have two things that we share at the foundation of our relationship and our faith. (1) We'll go anywhere and do anything (God tells us to do), (2) the safest place to be is in God's will. Bold principles to live by but, I'd argue, also the best. That's the short answer of how we got here. Now for the longer one...

Almost 20 years ago, God made it very clear to me, while I was camping in the Australian outback with a group of young Christians, that He had called me to be a teacher. It was confirmed in completely unexpected ways, several times, from people I barely knew and with a caveat that it would not look as I might expect it to look…
A few years later, after some prayer, God made it very clear that He was calling me to ordination—something I categorically did NOT want to do and had strongly resisted the idea of for years.
A few years after that, while at seminary, God made it very clear to me that He was calling me to a PhD in biblical studies. I’d always loved biblical studies, but I had disqualified myself from even thinking about taking it further because I didn’t look like a traditional biblical scholar.

I have loved so much of what I have been able to do in and through my ministry at St. Martin's. It's been a huge privilege and I have been incredibly grateful to really get to do so much of what I love and to serve God's kingdom in and through the life of this particular parish. I never imagined for a minute I'd end up in Houston, Texas, at the largest Episcopal church in North America! But it has been a blessing in many different ways.

However, throughout my life and work thus far, I've always found myself somewhere in the overlap between education and the church. ( Imagine a venn diagram with "church" in one circle and "theological education" in the other -- I've found myself where they crossover ). I've taught high school, seminary, undergrad, overseas (the Far East) and adult Sunday School in sunny Texas. I've preached in a number of those places too. I love teaching. I love preaching. I love research. When I went forward for selection for ordination I was pegged as "potential theological educator" because of those two hats - the ministerial and the academic.

While there have been many strands of prayer and reflection that have gone into my decision to make a change, one core reason is that I really believe God has called me to serve both the church and the academy. Not only do seminaries need lecturers (aka professors) who care about Scripture and can help pastors and teachers who are well-trained and informed in biblical scholarship and interpretation, they also need a safe place to land when challenged by their academic learning. I have spent a lot of time in theological education and my faith was shaken, honed and (ultimately) refined. But this journey was encouraged along by faculty who were trained and educated with the best of them and also had a deep and Spirit-filled life of faith in Jesus. They listened to my questions. They gave me space to wrestle through the difficulties of having my naive faith confronted by biblical criticism. They helped me separate the theological wheat from the irrelevant chaff. And they helped me to still seek Jesus, even in all of that uncertainty.

The church needs pastors who are well-trained and theologically informed -- and the academy needs tutorial staff who have a commitment to both the book-learning and the one about whom the books attempt to speak.

Serving at St. Martin's has given me a wonderful experience of ministry, from pastoral care and walking grieving families through the death of a loved one, to preaching to a nave full of people to launching Riverway as an fresh expression of our Anglican heritage. I want to take this experience, with my heart for teaching and the academy and use it best for God's service.

But in order to take a step forward, sometimes you gotta take a step back!

For various reasons, Stephen and I came to the conclusion God was calling for us to take the risk of creating space in our schedules (and a gap in my regular paycheck) to prepare for this transition. While the world says we should always be jumping from one thing to the next and never taking a breath, we're pretty sure that God calls us to live one day at a time, one moment at a time and to trust Him, even when the stakes seem high.

I am hopeful I will be able to take up an academic position by the end of the year. Wycliffe Hall is currently looking to expand their faculty with a lecturer (aka professor) who can help shape and equip clergy and other missionaries and ministers. Who can teach biblical studies, preaching, and help students apply their biblical learning to the reality of pastoral ministry. To find out more about Wycliffe Hall and help support them in this effort, click here . I believe this would be a really great fit for me and is where God is calling us next!

Last Sermon at St. Martin's (for now)

Wed, 17 May 2023 23:35:29 GMT

On May 14th, 2023, I preached my last sermon in traditional worship at St. Martin's. It was on First Peter 3, as it appears in the Lectionary.

When I was a high school teacher, the deputy head teacher once said to me that when it comes to teaching you have to imagine that you have three buttons on your arm. Teenagers, she told me, have an innate ability to find those buttons and press them. As a teacher, I needed to be aware of their presence and when they were pressed so as not to lose control. Because sometimes when a student pushes back, acts out and rebels, they can really get under your skin!

And her advice proved wise. It’s easy to be loving and gentle and kind in a vacuum. Or when things are going well. But when people are involved—and those people press our buttons—we can find the tank runs dry. We get irritated or impatient. Or full of emotion and drama. We react.

The famous Christian writer, Brennan Manning, said this of our humanity:

“When I get honest, I admit I am a bundle of paradoxes. I believe and I doubt, I hope and get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good, I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I am trusting and suspicious. I am honest and I still play games. Aristotle said I am a rational animal; I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer.”

We have buttons. We are paradoxes. And yet as bearers of the gospel, the body of Christ in the world, we called to lives lives that love. Not just love for those we naturally love: our friends and family. But love those who are difficult to love. Those who test our patience. Those who push our buttons and wind us up. Those who set themselves against us. We are called to love others, sacrificially, turning the other cheek, laying down our egos, our self-righteousness and our preferences, as we follow Christ and do as he calls us to do.

Most of the time, First Peter tells us, that’s going to be a good thing for those around us. Most of the time, that will bring about reward. Who will harm us if we are eager to do what is good?

But what if, as we pursue the good, the holy and the courageous—what if we get resistance? Push back? Dishonor? Reproach? What are we to do when pursuing the good gets us into trouble? When it results in gossip and people assuming the worst about us—even from those we love and respect? What are we to do when we risk facing bullying or even abuse?

If our love is rooted in ourselves and our own natural resources, that is the moment that we might find all three buttons pressed on our arms. Where we lash out and attack. Or where we recoil and withdraw and put up walls. Or where we cry out in indignation and lament how we have been wronged.

Underlying our natural responses—whether they are fight or flight, silence or violence—is a common cause. A very human motivation. Fear.

And how crippling fear can be.

So often, we fear others. The harm they may be able to do us, physically or materially. We might fear bodily harm or injury. Or perhaps we fear those who could financially ruin us. But it might also be about the security of relationships. Someone might leave us. They might tell stories about who we are and slander or misrepresent us.

Perhaps it runs even deeper: maybe we fear others because if any of those things actually happen—maybe THIS will be nail in the coffin that proves to us that we are as woeful, weak, shameful and undeserving as we secretly believe that we are.

Yet First Peter says this about doing good that might bring about harm or abuse: " Do not fear what they fear and do not be intimidated, but in your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord." (v.14-15)

This verse draws from Isaiah chapter 8 in which the people of God are told, when full of fear at the threat of a foreign power. Isaiah says:

Do not fear what they fear,
and do not dread it.
The Lord Almighty is the one you are to regard as holy,
he is the one you are to fear,
he is the one you are to dread.

Do not fear what others fear. Sanctify Christ. Fear Christ.

Our natural human reaction is to resort to one kind of defense or another. Some form of self-protection and validation that will keep us safe from harm. But First Peter tells us that as Christians, we are to switch out our fears. Trade them in.

To the Cross we bring our fears of others, fear of rejection, hatred, physical harm, death, alienation, shame, humiliation—you name it—and lay them at his feet. These fears are not ours anymore.

In their place, we are to fear just one thing: one being: God as revealed in Jesus Christ.

And of course, the fears we are trading in are not quite like the fear we take on in return. For in Christ we have a God who has made a way for us to draw near. A God who has deigned to help reconcile us back to Him when there was nothing we could do to free us from our chains. He knows our secrets and acted anyway. In Christ we have a God who accepts us even knowing the fulness of our mistakes and our shortcomings. Where we are broken and weak-kneed. Where we have failed. Where we lived half-lives and had hardened hearts. Where we have chased after idols.

Fear of others or fear of God in Christ?

Another way to imagine it might be to ask ourselves the question: if my life is a stage, who is my audience? My spouse? My boss? My neighbors? My parents? My colleagues? My friends? Am I playing for their laughs? Their approval? Their support? Their positive reviews?

Or is my audience God himself and God alone? The difference being that with God as my audience, I have his Spirit with me, who shares the stage and shows me where to go and how to live? All I am to do is submit and listen and respond?

Fear of others or fear of God?

"Do not be intimidated, but in your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord." (v.14-15)

In your heart let there be only one audience. The audience of God in Christ. Follow him and him alone.

Fear of God is about faith.

It takes faith not to engage when others want a fight or are pushing for a reaction.

It takes faith to remain tender-hearted and forgiving when others slander us for pursuing God’s will for our life.

It takes faith to humbly respond, when asked, about what we believe and why—and so share our hope.

And it takes faith to " maintain a good conscience." (v.16) To keep doing the right thing, even when pressed.

Without effort, our conscience remains dulled. When we run from ourselves and hide behind denial and convenience—when we are driven by many fears rather than one—that little voice of conscience goes dormant. Like muscle wastage when you’ve been sick a while, our conscience can all but disappear.

But as with regular exercise through which our physical strength can be regained and our fitness rebuilt, so with regular spiritual exercise our conscience can re-emerge and be sharpened once more. Where we discover integrity of actions: where our outside match our insides, where we are no longer living divided and shame-filled lives. Where we dare to start doing right by God.

Maintain a good conscience: be in the habit of listening for God’s voice, the quiet nudge, the uncomfortable thought—and do that. Obey. Follow. Take a risk. Make space to listen. Don’t confuse (as many do) conscience for adrenaline. Conscience is not about the surge of energy that comes when we feel indignant or reactive. Conscience finds its voice in still and deep waters, not turbulent waves that crash down violently upon jagged rocks. Conscience speaks with quiet conviction about the right action we should be taking, it does not fixate on that of others.

Work to maintain a good conscience. So that when the moment of truth comes, we might find the strength that Martin Luther had so much of during the Reformation. When he was pressed by religious officials to recant from his outspoken criticisms of the Roman Catholic church, he’s famously reported as having responded:

"My conscience is captive to the Word of God. Thus I cannot and will not recant, because acting against one’s conscience is neither safe nor sound. Here I stand; I can do no other. God help me."

"It is better to suffer for doing good, if suffering should be within God’s will, than to suffer for doing evil." (v.17)

We bear little risk of persecution or physical death in following God. But we can face slander, derision and social rejection. From family, from friends, even those who believe! When we seek to do good, love humbly and forgive generously. When we step out in faith and follow.

It is better, First Peter tells us, to bear this dishonor faithfully and keep on keeping on regardless. To not lose sight of our goal and keep doing the good He has called us to do. Listening and following the voice of conscience. For while we may bear embarrassment or rejection for acting with integrity, much better we experience that shame now, than the being confronted with shame of shunning God’s voice when He comes to judge the world.

Yes, some days, it seems like, for a moment, that injustice is winning and darkness abounds. Evil may win a battle here or there, but it has already, irrevocably, lost the war. Christ is on the throne. All powers are at his feet. There is nothing but Him to fear.

So do good.

Fear God.

Maintain a good conscience.

And await the day of Christ. Amen.