Tuesday 26 March 2024

They crucified him

They crucified him. Mark 15:24

Next Friday is Good Friday. If ever there was a day for us as Christians to gather with our fellow-believers, this surely is it.

People instinctively come together at a time of grief, even if the person who has died did so peacefully and in hearty old age. How much more then when the death is especially tragic or unexpected. There is comfort in such a coming together, though words are hard to find and seem to achieve little or nothing. We all make a point of attending a friend’s funeral if at all possible, don’t we? It seems unthinkable not to make the effort to be there.

When Judas Iscariot and the soldiers arrested Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, Mark tells us that “everyone deserted him and fled” (Mark 14:50). By “everyone” he means the disciples, for who else was there with him in the Garden?

But before we judge their desertion too harshly – have we never reacted to a frightening situation in sheer, blind panic? – it’s only right to recognise that they do seem to have straggled back once the shock had sunk in a little. We know from John 19:25-27 that “the beloved disciple” was right there “near the cross of Jesus”, along, of course, with a group of women including Jesus’ mother; and I like to think that the rest of the male disciples were around somewhere not far off, even if in rather  skulking mode.

We weren’t around on that terrible yet wonderful day; we didn’t have the option of being with Jesus when he died. But probably most of us do have a choice about next Friday, and the words come to mind of the American Folk Hymn: “Were you there when they crucified my Lord?”. Not, of course, that we are mourning a dead person! But we do gather to remember his suffering – suffering endured purely for us and in our place.

Some of the best hymns and songs in the history of the church were written for Good Friday. They still speak powerfully, in spite of archaic language.

I love O sacred head, sore wounded, thought to have been written around 1100. It climaxes in a prayer anticipating death… Be near me when I’m dying,/ O show thy cross to me,/ And, for my succour flying,/ Come, Lord, and set me free!/ These eyes, new faith receiving,/ From Jesus shall not move;/ For he who dies believing,/ Dies safely through thy love. Thanks be to God for that! The cross of Jesus gives us solid hope.

And here is It is a thing most wonderful, written by W W How, who lived from 1823 to 1897… It is most wonderful to know/ His love for me so free and sure:/ But ‘tis more wonderful to see/ My love for him so faint and poor… (Which of us can’t say Amen to that!) And then this humble prayer: And yet I want to love thee, Lord:/ O light the flame within my heart,/ And I will love thee more and more,/ Until I see thee as thou art. (And which of us can’t echo that prayer?)

What about When I survey the wondrous cross, by Isaac Watts (1674-1748)?... Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,/ Save in the death of Christ my God; / All the vain things that charm me most, / I sacrifice them to his blood/…   Were the whole realm of nature mine,/ That were an offering far too small,/ Love so amazing, so divine,/ Demands my soul, my life, my all.

There are some fine new(er) songs as well, of course. Thank God for hymn-writers like Graham Kendrick, who wrote in 1983… The price is paid,/ Come let us enter in/ To all that Jesus died/ To make our own. / For every sin/ More than enough he gave,/ And bought our freedom / From each guilty stain./ The price is paid, / Alleluia!

And here is Matt Redman, who is prepared to look the reality of our own deaths right in the face as he reflects on Jesus’ death… And on that day when my strength is failing,/ The end draws near and my time has come,/ Still my soul will sing in praise unending,/ Ten thousand years and then for evermore. / Bless the Lord, O my soul! Again, hope, given in the midst of what often seems a hopeless world.

I’m not writing this blog with the aim of “guilting” anyone into being in worship on Good Friday. No; if we are there it should be because it’s in our hearts to be there. But, as I suggested at the beginning, if by any chance we have of late drifted away a bit from church (perhaps never really got back after covid?), could there be a better day on which to renew the habit? And what better occasion to sing some of these wonderful words? The price is paid! Come, let us enter in!

The crucified and risen Jesus waits to meet us.

Lord Jesus Christ, I have known the story of your suffering, death and resurrection for so long that it has almost become stale and lost much of its wonder for me. Please refresh my faith. Please give me the determination and conviction to be among your people in worship and praise over this Easter weekend, on Good Friday if at all possible, as well as on Easter Sunday. Amen.

Friday 22 March 2024

Justified by faith? (2)

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” Luke 18:9-14

Last time we thought about “justification by faith”, and how it has become crystalized into a “doctrine” which might be called the motto-definition of the Protestant Reformation: If you feel the need to be right with God (as we all should, for we are all sinners) then simply put your trust in what Jesus did on the cross, and abandon any attempt to put yourself right by your own efforts. God in his mercy will forgive and save.

I mentioned that the idea of “justification”, which is gone into in detail by the Apostle Paul (Romans 3:28 being a key summary) is used hardly at all in the Gospels by Jesus himself. It is in essence a term from the legal world, pretty much the equivalent of “acquittal”, “getting the verdict” or, if we might invent an ugly word, being “righteoused” by God.

But there is one outstanding exception to this generalisation: Luke 18:14, the final verse of a wonderful little story Jesus told to demonstrate what it means to be “justified” by God. It’s about two men, a very religious Pharisee and a broken, humble tax-collector, who go into the temple to pray – and how it was the second one, the one who didn’t try to “righteous” himself, who went home with the peace of mind that comes of knowing that you are forgiven. There, in story form, is the “doctrine” of justification by faith.

Jesus loved telling stories (I wonder, by the way, why we who preach seem often reluctant to follow his example!). Some of those stories, like the Good Samaritan or the Prodigal Son, are well known even outside Christian circles, for they glow with life-changing meaning. But they don’t come any simpler or more powerful than this one.

What is it that makes it so special? I would suggest…

First, it’s beautifully short (less than 150 words in the NIV Bible, roughly half that in the Greek). Yet in those few words Jesus conjures up the whole atmosphere and culture of those far off days by showing us these two people: and, I think, implicitly inviting us to find our place in their drama. It’s massively heartening to the humble, and, hopefully, massively challenging to the proud. Where am I – where are you? – in this story? The problem, often, with “doctrine” is that it can seem very wordy and hard to grasp; thanks be to God for Jesus’ little story!

Second, it’s beautifully simple.

The self-righteous man is not short of words; he presents God with a comprehensive list of all the nasty things he isn’t – a robber, an evildoer, an adulterer, and certainly not “like this tax collector” (can you see him looking scornfully down his lordly nose?) – and then he reminds God (though I suspect that God already knew, don’t you?) of a few of his plus-points: look, I fast twice a week! look, I even tithe my income! Aren’t I good!

The tax-collector, on the other hand, clearly knows his own true self. He belongs to a profession (probably employed, and paid, by the hated Romans) not renowned for their honesty. No doubt he has other moral and spiritual blemishes we aren’t told about. But what matters is that he is aware of his sinfulness: “God, have mercy upon me, a sinner” is all the prayer he can muster.

But… the wonder is that it is all the prayer he needs to muster! And so, says Jesus, he was the one who “went home justified…”, at peace with the one true and holy God. The gospel of Jesus is, then, essentially simplicity itself. It isn’t, first and foremost, a “doctrine” to be studied and puzzled over; it’s a wonderful truth that you discover, live, experience, and enjoy, a gift of God’s grace to be received with childlike faith.

Do you know what it is to “go home justified”?

There is a third feature of this story which is worth commenting on. Does it raise hopes that people who have never heard the gospel may be saved?

The tax-collector, obviously, didn’t believe in Jesus, because he had never heard of him. How could he? – he is, after all, only a fictitious character! and in historical reality, the cross hadn’t yet happened anyway. Yet he “went home justified”; his cry for mercy was enough.

Could the same thing be true of people throughout history who for various reasons have never had the opportunity to put faith explicitly in Jesus? From our human perspective it seems troubling to think of people – sinful people, certainly - condemned for failing to believe in a Saviour of whom they have never heard… as if God is a doctor who says to a sick patient, “I have a medicine which could cure you, but I am not going to tell you what it is, or give it to you”.

These are deep waters to swim in, and we have to be tentative! Our understanding of the mind of God is limited, to put it mildly. But I freely confess that I, for one, would be delighted if it turns out to be so!

Lord, have mercy!

Father, thank you for loving us so much that you sent your Son to save us. Help me, in return, to live a life of gratitude and glad obedience! Amen.

Tuesday 19 March 2024

Justified by faith?

We maintain that a person is justified by faith apart from the works of the law. Romans 3:28

If somebody were to ask you “Are you justified by faith?” how would you reply? I hope – with a resounding Yes!

Justification by faith is a great phrase. Indeed, it is right at the heart of Paul’s understanding of the gospel of Christ (Jesus himself rarely spoke in those terms). It means, in essence, being declared “in the right” by God himself, in spite of being, like every other human being, a sinner.

But how can anyone be both “in the right” and at the same time a sinner? Isn’t that a contradiction? The answer Paul gives is: because Jesus has taken our sins upon himself, and in doing so has paid the price which was rightly ours to pay. Even though we still sin we can anticipate that verdict “justified” (that is, “declared righteous”) on the final day of judgment when we stand before God.

The doctrine of justification by faith is particularly associated with the name of Martin Luther, the monk who kick-started the Protestant Reformation in the sixteenth century. He felt that the church of his time laid too much emphasis on “works” that we human beings must do in order to be right with God. And, putting it simply, he found that however hard he tried to measure up, he just couldn’t do it (and, make no mistake, he tried hard!). His discovery (or perhaps I should say, his re-discovery) of Paul’s understanding changed both his own life and the history of the world.

The result is that the church today consists, broadly speaking, of three basic streams: Roman Catholic, Protestant (I imagine most people reading this blog fall within this block), and what is usually called Eastern Orthodox. As Christians we endlessly debate differences of understanding and emphasis – sometimes, throughout history, to the extent of killing one another, imagining that in so doing we are fighting the battles of God himself. The more you think about that, the more shockingly sad it seems.

Christian history makes plain the tendency of God’s people to form themselves into what we might call “tribes”, even within that threefold division. These might be according to denominations – Baptist, Anglican, Roman Catholic, Methodist, Salvation Army, you name it, plus the multitude of newer groupings that have emerged in more recent years.

Many of us try to play down such tribal loyalties, because we recognise that there is no such grouping which has it all right, no group which is doctrinally perfect. But it isn’t easy! In my own case, coming as I did from a non-church family, it “just so happened” (not really, of course) that God met with me as a teenager in the context of a Baptist church, and that’s where I’ve been ever since, aware of the imperfections of that tradition but grateful too for the many blessings received and therefore unashamed to have an affectionate and respectful sense of loyalty.

Within the grouping which is sometimes referred to as “evangelical”, various catch-phrases – one might even call them slogans (possibly even battle-cries!) – have emerged as a form of self-identity. In America, for example, there are those who routinely refer to themselves as “born again” Christians (but can there be any other sort!). Other buzz-words attached to “Christian” might be “practicing” or “church-going” or “sincere” or “Bible-believing” or “Spirit-filled” (but, again, shouldn’t such motto-words apply to any and every Christian!).

What has all this to do with justification by faith, where we started? I think it demonstrates how a concern for doctrinal correctness, certainly important in itself, can slowly harden into a means of tribal self-identification and even, putting it bluntly, into downright arrogance (as in, “We, of course, are the only true Christians in this neighbourhood, because we resolutely refuse to see works as being of any deep significance”).

But one moment… When Paul sat down to write to the Church in Rome, and especially Romans 3, he didn’t think of himself as writing what we now call “doctrine”: he just wanted to explain to the Roman Christians how he understood the good news of the gospel, and “justified by faith”, and all it implied, seemed an appropriate and accurate summary.

Dare I put it like this: correct doctrine is vital – yet it can also be a curse when in effect it becomes a new form of law. We need to use our imaginations to grasp what it must have been like for the first pagan unbelievers to hear the good news of Jesus. Trusting in him won’t have been presented as a condition to be met, almost a box to be ticked, even a threat to be warned about: “If you want to be put right with God, you’d better start believing in the death and resurrection of Jesus, and the sooner the better!”

No. It will have been presented as exactly what the word “gospel” means – “good news”: “You want to know how to be put right with God? That’s wonderful! Just trust in what Jesus did on the cross!” And that isn’t a condition to be dutifully met but an invitation to be joyfully accepted.

Let’s always remember: we are justified by faith; we are not justified by believing in justification by faith. Can you spot the difference?

Father, thank you that you sent Jesus not in order to put another layer of law upon us, but to stretch out your hands of love to all sinful men and women with the good news of Jesus crucified for our sins and raised for out salvation. Save me, Lord, from ever misrepresenting such joyful, liberating  good news. Amen.

Sunday 10 March 2024

Mary - the joy and the pain

Jesus entered a house, and again a crowd gathered, so that he and his disciples were not even able to eat. When his family heard about this, they went to take charge of him, for they said ‘He is out of his mind’. Mark 3:21

Mark 3:20-35 records a disturbing and rather puzzling episode in the life of Jesus. If we read it right through we find that he is drawing large crowds of listeners and there seems to be a danger of things getting out of hand. It gets so bad that Mary and Jesus’ brothers turn up to try and “take charge of him” (!) and take him home, for “they said ‘He is out of his mind’”. It seems they want to physically frog-march him away.

Who are “they”? It isn’t entirely clear. They could be people in the crowd or Jesus’ enemies. But many Bible teachers think that it’s a reference to Mary and the family: the literal meaning is “Those who were with him”, which would, of course, cover both his family and the twelve apostles. Whatever, it was a serious situation – Mary and the brothers were reduced to standing on the outskirts of the crowd, unable even to get to him (verse 32).

After the story of Jesus’ birth the Gospels tell us very little about Mary.

There is the episode of him as a twelve-year old boy going missing in the Jerusalem temple and seeming to dismiss their natural anxieties: “What worried you! Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” (Luke 2:49).

That must have hurt! Of course they knew perfectly well that Joseph wasn’t his real father, but he had been in effect a father to him, so this question must have seemed like a slap in the face.

Then there was the occasion of the wedding at Cana (John 2:1-12). No Joseph now – presumably he has died, so Mary no longer has the comfort of his support. She naturally turns to Jesus for help when the wine runs out – a true social disaster; and he seems almost off-hand with her: “Woman, why do you involve me?… My hour has not yet come”. She turns to the servants with the simple instruction, “Do whatever he tells you”, as if to say, “I don’t understand him any better than you! Just do what he says!”

And it gets even worse in this incident in Mark 3. Could it really be that he has gone crazy? Is he no better than a ranting street-corner preacher who’s suddenly picked up a near-hysterical following? This isn’t what Mary had imagined when she received the angelic visitor all those years ago! Could this be what the old man Simeon had prophesied when he foretold many wonderful things – but then added the dark, ominous word to Mary: “And a sword will pierce your own soul too” (Luke 2:35). What must Mary have thought about that?

Well, we all experience doubts at different times in our Christian lives – doubt is not a sin, and not (not normally, at any rate) something to be ashamed of. But I don’t think it’s too much of an exaggeration to suggest that Mary experienced something far more: she seems to have suffered a crisis, a collapse, of faith. Is that going too far?

Most of us who have been Christians for any length of time will probably know people who have gone through this. When we first knew them they were radiant in their faith, solid as a rock. But then, perhaps completely out of the blue, a situation arose which plunged them into the depths of despair, and everything was doubt and confusion, rather as with Mary here.

I’m presently reading a book about the Christians who were nicknamed “Puritans”, back in the 1600s. They were renowned for the seriousness and intensity of their faith. They were strict in examining themselves for any hidden sin which might separate them from God. And, contrary to their dour reputation, they were often known for their deep peace and inner joy.

But even these stalwart followers of Christ were not immune to the type of thing Mary seems to have suffered here. “Brother Jones,” someone might record in his diary, “failed to attend worship this Sunday morning, afflicted once again by his melancholy…” They called it melancholy; today it would probably be described as “depression”.

You may have experienced such a thing yourself; indeed, you may be going through it at this moment. If this is the case, the message has to be: If such a special person as Mary – who received angelic visitors, who was used by God as the recipient of an extraordinary miracle, who knew joy almost beyond words – if such a person as her could suffer a collapse of faith, be encouraged!

Remember the end of her story. Watching at the foot of the cross as Jesus died, she was committed by him (at the very point of death!) to the care of the “beloved disciple” (what love was that on Jesus’ part!). And still more: after his resurrection she was numbered among the first believers in the upper room “where they were staying”. Luke, in Acts 1:14, gives us a run-down of the apostles, and then adds, “They all joined together constantly in prayer, along with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brothers”.

This time they weren’t pleading with Jesus to stop the preaching and come home. No, they were confidently waiting for him to take them home, where they would be re-united with him and see him face to face.

In various ways Mary had a tough life; but Jesus brought her through. And what he did for her he will do for you and me.

May God help us to hold to him through thick and thin!

Dear Father, please help me to cling to you through the bad times as well as the good, confident that whatever you allow to happen to me will lead to my strengthening, and that the day will come when every sorrow will be banished and every tear wiped away. Amen.

Wednesday 6 March 2024

Thinking about thinking

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Philippians 4:8

You probably take a bit of trouble thinking about what you feed into your body. And rightly so – we keep hearing about an obesity epidemic, or about harmful substances which are added to our food and which we probably know nothing about. We may not feel any immediate effects after we eat, but the chances are it’s only a matter of time.

Some people, of course, turn healthy eating almost into an obsession, a mini-religion. I get rather fed up (if that’s the right expression) with a continuous flow of newspaper articles recommending one diet after another. “Everything in reason!” I want to shout. “Stop bullying me! I’ve got enough to worry about as it is!” (Are these the kind of people who Paul described, in KJV days, Romans 16:18, as “serving their own belly”?)

Well, that’s as may be. But where I want to go is – not food for the body, but food for the mind. This, surely, is far more important. You accommodate your body for a certain number of years, and then it is gone and decays. Yes, it’s important, and in fact it’s part of a Christian’s responsibility to look after it (see the startling and sobering words of Paul in 1 Corinthians 6:19). But what about your mind? What about the untold millions of words, thoughts, ideas, memories and images which we all tuck away without so much as thinking about it day by day? Are they wholesome? Healthy? Or are they the mental equivalent of junk food?

Paul has a habit of introducing lists into his letters: the most striking are probably Galatians 5:19-21 (“the works of the flesh”) and Galatians 5:22-23 (“the fruit of the Spirit”). But Philippians 4:8 doesn’t come far behind. Paul tells us what qualities and characteristics we should “think about” as a matter of course; in other words, he tells us about what kind of food we should be feeding into our minds.

His list has a slightly old-fashioned feel – “noble”, “admirable”, “excellent” (note please, not “incredible” or “fantastic” or “amazing”, words which in recent years have had all the juice sucked out of them through overuse). But that simply gives it an enhanced dignity and impressiveness. If you’re anything like me, you read these words and they have the effect of a beautiful warm shower: cleansing, reviving and invigorating. Or, to change the image, they call to mind some dear fellow-Christian who may well have been dead for 20 years – yet who, like Abel, ”still speaks” (Hebrews 11:4), such was the impact they made on you.

Such a person is reliable, trustworthy and solid, though not without humour (oh no, not without humour!). A person who you instinctively feel you’d like to model yourself on; a person who has made a significant difference to your life not so much by anything they have said but just by being who they are.

In a world where words and ideas are constantly flying around at breathless speed, pouring out at us from the television or the internet, people like this are desperately needed. They steady us and bring us back to base; they help to anchor us when we seem to have no stability; there is no shallowness in them.

A big problem about the food we put into our minds is that very often we absorb it without even realising what’s happening. Sit down and eat a meal and you know exactly what you’re doing; how can you not? But food for the mind comes creeping in often by a process of unnoticed infiltration: a newspaper headline; a slogan; a television programme that you’re only half-watching; something off the internet; a book that will only waste your time. And that’s why it needs watching.

James – ever the practical man – tells us that “Religion that is pure and faultless is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep yourself unspotted from the world” (James 1:27). A big ask, that; but a vital part of becoming like Jesus.

Is it time to pause and reflect: what kind of food do I allow into the private sanctum of my mind?

Father, the beautiful world you have made has been tragically spoiled and corrupted, and we, to whom you have given the precious gift of life, are part of that corruption. Thank you for the word of Jesus, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness…” Please give me a true desire to be “filled”. Amen.

Monday 26 February 2024

A perfect church?

But I think it is necessary to send back to you Epaphroditus, my brother, co-worker and fellow soldier, who is also your messenger, whom you sent to take care of my needs. 26 For he longs for all of you and is distressed because you heard he was ill. 27 Indeed he was ill, and almost died. But God had mercy on him, and not on him only but also on me, to spare me sorrow upon sorrow. 28 Therefore I am all the more eager to send him, so that when you see him again you may be glad and I may have less anxiety. 29 So then, welcome him in the Lord with great joy, and honour people like him, 30 because he almost died for the work of Christ. He risked his life to make up for the help you yourselves could not give me. Philippians 2:25-30

Do you ever think how good it must have been to be part of the early, New Testament church? The buzz! The excitement! The sense of being a wonderful new family, filled with love for Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit! The vibrant preaching! The dramatic answers to prayer! How dull – what a struggle – life in today’s church can seem by comparison.

All right, perhaps the church you belong to isn’t dull or a struggle at all; but for many it is. So it’s tempting to read the New Testament and feel a little wistful: “If only…!”

If ever we do feel this way, it’s time to pause and take what, in modern parlance, is called a reality check. The fact is that the early church was in many respects pretty much like many modern churches, both for good and for ill (just read, for example, the “seven letters to the churches” in Revelation 2-3). This is nowhere better illustrated than in Paul’s glowing little letter to the Christians of Philippi, written while he was in prison for Jesus’ sake.

Philippians oozes faith and love – it obviously warmed Paul’s heart just to think about the church there. We can read about what brought it into being by turning to Acts 16. But it didn’t have an easy birth; it started with Paul and his travelling companion Silas dumped in the local prison with their feet in the stocks. And now, probably some six or seven years later, Paul finds himself in prison again, very likely in Ephesus.

He has a particular reason for writing to them: to thank them for helping to “take care of my needs” (2:25) and to “share in my troubles” (Philippians 4:14) by sending him a gift, presumably of money. How did this gift reach him? – through the willing, sacrificial generosity of a man called Epaphroditus, about whom we know absolutely nothing beyond what Paul tells us in this letter. But Epaphroditus is a perfect illustration of both the joys and sorrows of those early churches. We can get to know him a little by asking a few questions…

First, what kind of man was he?

Answer: Paul describes him as “my brother, co-worker and fellow-soldier” (2:25). There’s no way of knowing how well Paul knew him personally, but that description is high praise indeed; he was no nodding acquaintance. Paul knew him well enough to value him highly.

I hope we all have people in our lives like Epaphroditus – people we can rely on and share our joys and sorrows with; solid, reliable people. My experience suggests to me that even small and struggling churches have at least a handful of such people (and they may, of course, be female as well as male). If we read through Paul’s life in Acts, plus also his letters, we find that his life was well populated with such people; Epaphroditus was by no means the only one.

That, of course, prompts another challenging question: do my fellow-Christians see me as an Epaphroditus?

Second, why in particular is Paul grateful to God for Epaphroditus?

Answer: as we saw a moment ago, he is the person who has served as the Philippian Christians’ courier to carry their gift to Paul in prison (4:18 again), where the gift is described as “a fragrant offering, an acceptable sacrifice, pleasing to God”. That puts a different light on “brother, co-worker and fellow-soldier” – Epaphroditus, no doubt precisely because of his rock-solid reliability, was the messenger-boy, the man the church in Philippi entrusted this heavy responsibility to.

In our modern world I don’t suppose prison food is anything very special. But in the days of the Roman empire it was probably completely non-existent; prisoners would have had to rely on well-wishers from outside. And this is the role Epaphroditus took on.

A glance at a map indicates that the distance from Philippi to Ephesus (assuming that that is indeed where Paul was during this imprisonment) is some three hundred miles as the crow flies. It could be done by either land or sea or a combination of the two; but whatever, it would have been an arduous and demanding journey, no easy matter for a man who no doubt had other duties to attend to, not to mention perhaps a family at home. “Brothers” and “sisters” like that are, surely, precious as gold!

Third, what in particular happened to Epaphroditus that caused anxiety to Paul?

Answer: he got sick “and almost died”. If we re-read the whole of 2:25-30 we find that for a time Paul was seriously anxious on his behalf, and apparently the members of the Philippi church were likewise very upset when the news reached them.

I can’t help smiling when we read that he, Epaphroditus, was “distressed” because he had heard that his fellow-church members were anxious about him. Isn’t that so typically human - and common, surely, to every age and generation? – he was distressed because they were distressed on his behalf.

I’m sure they were confident of Christianity’s eternal hope. But neither Paul nor the Philippian church were starry-eyed about “going to heaven” – they well knew the pain and sorrow of death, and weren’t ashamed to express it. (It’s worth reflecting that the same Paul who wrote 1:21 could also write 2:27.)

Well, Epaphroditus did eventually recover, and no doubt everyone breathed a big sigh of relief. It seems that those early churches weren’t so very different from ours after all! Perhaps this can prompt us to pray…

Loving Father, thank you for all the various Epaphrodituses who have blessed my life over the years. I find it hard to imagine how I would have got on without them. Please help me, in my turn, to be an Epaphroditus to others. Amen.

Wednesday 21 February 2024

The parable of the green tree

As the soldiers led Jesus away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus. A large number of people followed him, including women who mourned and wailed for him. Jesus turned and said to them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children. For the time will come when you will say, ‘Blessed are the childless women, the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’ Then “they will say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us!’ and to the hills, ‘Cover us!’ For if people do these things when the tree is green, what will happen when it is dry?” Luke 23:26-31

I wonder how often we have read these grim words from Luke’s Gospel – words of Jesus – and wondered exactly what he meant by that final question? What’s this about trees?

The context (as always) is important. Jesus is being led away to crucifixion and large crowds are lining the route, including many women, weeping and wailing. Jesus rebukes them (though with compassion): “It’s not me you should we weeping for; it’s yourselves and your children. The days ahead are days when it would be better never to have had children…”

Then he quotes from the Old Testament prophet Hosea (chapter 10, verse 8). Hosea lived at a time when God’s people Israel had lapsed into idolatry and so, in effect, had invited God’s wrath to fall on them. Those days will be so horrific that people will plead for the very mountains to fall on them; it will be better to die than to live.

So far, so clear. But then Jesus adds another saying which is not a quote from the Old Testament: “If people do these things when the tree is green, what will happen when it is dry?”

Not a quote from the Old Testament? Certainly, there seems to be an echo of Ezekiel 20:45-48. But more likely it is a proverbial saying that has been passed down the generations. Various interpretations have been suggested, but the simplest and most natural seems best: “If this is how the brutal Romans are prepared to treat one innocent man, how much worse will it be in the days to come? The killing of one man, wicked though it is, is nothing compared with the ruining of a whole city, including its beautiful temple. Green wood – and that’s what we are at the moment - doesn’t burn well, but once it has dried it goes up in flames in no time at all.”

In a nutshell, Jesus’ cryptic saying seems simply to be the equivalent of the modern catchphrase “You ain’t seen nothing yet!” – but in a bad rather than a good sense.

Two thoughts occur to me…

First, his words remind us that he never promised that the outworking of God’s purposes would be easy: anything but. The kingdom of God has broken in, and we are all invited to be part of it, but as we enlist, so to speak, we must be under no illusions. His call involves “taking up your cross to follow me” (Matthew 16:24), and those were no empty words; he made it clear that when we make that great decision we must “count the cost” (Matthew 15:25-33).

How easy it is to make promises of those kinds in the first flush of zeal, especially if we came to Christ when still young, when many youthful enthusiasms – sporting, political, career-wise, hobby-wise, religious – are born! Experience teaches many things, and easily takes its toll. And so it is with the fire of faith: it can very easily begin to burn low – no wonder Paul urges the Christians of Thessalonica (1 Thessalonians 5:19) not to “quench (that is, stub out) the Spirit”.

I wonder if this is a reality some of us need to face up to? Is it time to have a fresh “getting-to-grips-with-God-again” session? If so, a time of reflection on the disturbing letter of Jesus to the church in Laodicea (Revelation 3:14-22) might be in order. “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear…”!

Second, it’s worth reflecting that, if Jesus’ words about the green and dry tree are indeed a time-honoured proverbial saying – if that is so, it’s striking that he should be prepared to make them part of his own teaching. We are familiar with his many quotations from the Old Testament, the Hebrew scriptures, of course, for he saw himself as the fulfilment of those scriptures; but a reference like this somehow “earths” him as a man of his own time, and a man of a particular nation and race with its traditions and culture.

This has something to say to us about the Bible as a whole, the writings the Christian church has always honoured as the written word of God.

It emerged over many hundreds of years and was composed, humanly speaking, by a wide range of writers. This means that, to our eyes, it can seem a rambling, even messy, book. It doesn’t always yield its meaning to us easily, but requires study and, in many respects, the help of experts, linguists and historians as well as theologians. Why else do we expect trainee ministers to undergo serious study? Why else do we look to people who know more than we do to write books and give lectures? The Bible is an inspired book, yes – but it is not a magic book.

I find it reassuring that Jesus was prepared to take a piece of home-spun everyday wisdom from the world around him and weave it into his own teaching side by side with a chunk of sacred Old Testament scripture. It helps me to see not only Jesus but also the Bible itself with fresh eyes – inspired by the Holy Spirit, yes, but also a very human, earthy book. There is much to be gained by recognising its human authorship as well as its divine inspiration. Something to think about?

Lord Jesus, we worship you as God in the flesh. Just as we see you as both divine and human, may we also see your written word, the Bible, as both written by human beings but also inspired by the Holy Spirit. Amen.