A misguided zeal

Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him. “Teacher,” they said, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask.” “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. They replied, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.” “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said…

Mark 10:35-38

God exalted Jesus to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Philippians 2:9-11

How interesting that the Gospels – two of them, anyway – should include this little episode, for it reflects rather badly on two of the leading apostles, the brothers James and John, sons of Zebedee.

They come to Jesus and ask, bold as brass, that they might be given the seats of honour when he enters his “glory”. I find myself thinking, “How could they possibly know him so well, love him so much, and trust him so completely – and yet obviously understand him so little!” All credit to them, of course, that they had that implicit faith that he was headed for glory, but such a gross, self-centred request surely is rather hard to understand.

I can think of three ways in which we might make excuses for them.

First, we might ask (indeed should ask) “But am I actually any better?” Here we are, two thousand years on, yet there is a sense in which we know Jesus even better than they did – we, after all, have the whole New Testament to teach us, with all four Gospels, the Acts of the Apostles, plus a rich variety of letters and Revelation. Yet can we not also be guilty of spectacularly missing the point?

Second, we might ask “Is it in fact correct to think that thy knew him so well”? The Gospels make it clear that Jesus’ earthly ministry lasted only some three years, and even assuming that this episode took place towards the end of that period, and even granted that their relationship with him was very intense, the fact is that three years isn’t that long and, given that they had had just a standing start in those early days by the Sea of Galilee, well, they really did have a great deal to learn.

And third, we might turn to Matthew 20:20-28, where the same story is told – but with one very striking difference: it wasn’t James and John at all who made the request, but their mother on their behalf!

We sometimes make jokes about pushy mothers who insist on demanding what they see as only the best for their offspring; and, according to Matthew’s account, Mrs Zebedee seems to have been of that sort. To be fair to them, did James and John stand by in some embarrassment as she went into battle on their behalf?

Well, whatever. But of course what matters is, what lessons should we learn from this incident?

The main one is obvious: to seek glory for ourselves is wrong.

We all like to be appreciated by others, to be “successful” or important, whatever that word may mean in the context of our particular lives. And yes, given that God has given each of us different gifts and talents, it’s not wrong to want to fulfil our potential as far as possible. But often, if we honestly search our hearts, we know that there is a nasty little sliver of sheer vanity, of self-centred status-seeking, nestling there. Who has never been guilty of jealousy over somebody who has gained more “success” than we have?

It can only do us good to reflect on the simple but profound words of John the Baptist as he looked at Jesus, the “lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world”: “He must become greater; I must become less” (John 3:30). I wonder if the sons of Zebedee were there when those great words were first spoken? Had they just forgotten them by the time of our story?

How easily we forget great truths – or, perhaps, deliberately and sinfully allow them to slip from our minds in any given situation. We may piously say that all the glory must go to God; but do we really mean it?

A second lesson is that to seek glory for ourselves is not only wrong but a waste of time and energy anyway. Glory fades. Yesterday’s super-star becomes today’s has-been. Idols, of whatever kind, are bound to fall (read Percy Bysshe Shelley’s short but powerful poem “Ozymandias”!).

We live in a “celebrity culture” (horrible expression!), with a widespread mentality that needs to idolise the rich, famous and successful. Give credit where it’s due, yes, by all means. But to put people up on pedestals is sheer folly.

A third, more positive, lesson: to accept cheerfully the position God has in mind for us is the only sure way to be at peace.

Jesus tells James and John that God alone has the authority to put people in their rightful place – “to sit at my right hand or left is not for me to grant…”,he frankly states(verse 40). And many of us will be able to testify that at times in our lives when we have stepped outside God’s will – though temptation, through weakness, through foolishness, through outright disobedience – we have forfeited peace. We have learned the hard way that, ultimately, the only safe place to be is in – well, God’s place for us. So why hanker after anything else?

I mentioned earlier the example of dear, faithful John the Baptist. But of course we can go even better than that. We read in Philippians 2:1-11 that Jesus himself “made himself nothing” (literally “emptied himself”). He “took the very nature of a servant” – yes, he even washed the disciples’ feet. Total, self-effacing humility. And what is to become of him? “At the name of Jesus every knee shall bow…” By rejecting glory he comes to glory!

Christian, meditate on that, and cling to that alone!

Father, it is not for us to find fault with other Christians, whether ancient apostles or contemporary believers; we ourselves are only too prone to foolish false ideas and ambitions. Please teach us to be content to be nothing, that Jesus may have all the glory, and so to find peace in simply doing your will. Amen.

The secrets of the heart

Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy. Proverbs 14:10

Even in laughter the heart may ache, and rejoicing may end in grief. Proverbs 14: 13

It’s a strange book, Proverbs.

Much of it seems like a pretty random collection of one-off sayings, many of which could have been spoken by a non-Jew or a non-Christian: just down-to-earth commonsense, even platitudes or cliches. Quite a lot about wisdom, but very little explicitly about God. There are verses that invite the response, “OK – but so what?”. Others that prompt the question, “Is that really true!”, and others that leave us wondering “How are we supposed to apply that in today’s world!”.

If there is an overarching theme that binds the book together, it must be wisdom. And its main purpose, for me anyway, is simple enough: to make us stop and think – something, I fear, that we do all too rarely.

I’ve picked out two little verses from chapter 14, which have in common the thought that every human being’s heart is a private place, known only to the person in question.

Verse 10: Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no-one else can share its joy.

My immediate reaction is the question: Is that in fact true? The first part, well, yes. But the second part? It implies that our inmost hearts are so deeply buried within us that we cannot share even the good things with anyone else.

But surely we both can and do. We delight to share our joys: think of a wedding day or the birth of a new child, or even just the success of a football team. And as for the bitternesses; we have a saying in English that “a problem shared is a problem halved”, and haven’t all of us experienced the relief of unburdening our hearts to a trusted friend? Oh, what a difference that can make!

The truth of the verse lies, perhaps, in the fact that, while we live in communities and families, ultimately we are individuals, and as individuals we were made by God and are answerable to God. To put it most sharply, Paul tells us that “we must all stand before God’s judgment seat” (Romans 14:10) – and when that day comes we stand alone.

Verse 13: Even in laughter the heart may ache, and rejoicing may end in grief.

Well, sadly, there can be no arguing with that! How much laughter is hollow, forced, perhaps dependent on alcohol or other artificial stimulants? The figure of the broken-hearted clown is known in many cultures, with his grotesque, painted smile that bears no resemblance to the reality within. Many of us may have known hearty life-and-soul-of-the-party types who, tragically, reach a point where they feel they must end their own lives. Or weekend revellers “out for a good time” who end up in the depths of misery, perhaps literally in the gutter.

Even without going to such extremes, we all know that “all good things come to an end”, and we are wise if we face up realistically to that truth.

I read these verses and find myself wondering how to apply them to my everyday life. What difference might they make to the kind of person I am? How might they make me a better person?

Perhaps first and foremost, they challenge me to be compassionate. Think the best, not the worst, of others’ failings and peculiarities.

Every time I meet a fellow human being I am meeting a miraculous bundle of body, mind and spirit who is totally unique throughout the history of the universe. Putting it another way, there is no such thing on the face of this planet as “just an ordinary person”. We are made by God, each of us, and loved by God, each of us – yes, including the smallest, the most feeble, insignificant, unimportant and easily neglected person.

We simply cannot know a millionth part of what has gone on in another person’s life – what sadnesses, failures, disappointments, hurts – or what is going on right now in that mysterious space between their ears.

And this means that it is right to stretch ourselves as far as we can in “making allowances” – after all, God alone knows the individual’s heart, and ultimately we can – indeed must – leave any judging to him. Haven’t we all sometimes looked at another person, shaken our heads and then thought “That could be me…”? Haven’t we all at times been profoundly grateful for those who have made allowances for us?

The fact is that every other person is someone who can be both a blessing to me and to whom I can be a blessing.

I was stopped in the street the other day by a total stranger walking his dog; he wanted me to know about a heron he had seen sitting on somebody’s roof (this in a city suburb). He was bursting with the sheer pleasure of it, and just wanted me, a total “anybody”, to know about it. I walked on, feeling a real lifting of my heart. I was reminded just how easy it can  be to bring pleasure to another person if we only keep our wits about us. Thank you, Mr Dog-Walker Stranger!

I said something wrong earlier, or, rather, left unsaid something vitally important, so I must put it right before I finish.

I said that when we stand before God on the judgment day, we stand alone: that’s the implication of Proverbs 14:10 and 13. But of course the writer of Proverbs, Solomon or whoever, didn’t know about Jesus. And we do, and that makes all the difference.

The same Paul who warned us about the judgment day also tells us that “there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1). If that isn’t good news, I don’t know what is! Our condemnation has been taken by him.

So I like to imagine that when that day comes for me and I stand stripped bare before our holy God, Jesus will be there – with his arm around my shoulder.

Do you too have that hope?

Father, please help me to see every person that I meet with the compassionate eyes of Jesus. Amen.

To fast or to feast?

Now in the church at Antioch there were prophets and teachers: Barnabas, Simeon called Niger, Lucius of Cyrene, Manaen (who had been brought up with Herod the tetrarch) and Saul. While they were worshipping the Lord and fasting, the Holy Spirit said, “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” So after they had fasted and prayed, they placed their hands on them and sent them off. Acts 13:1-3

Just recently a Christian friend asked me, right out of nowhere, what I thought about fasting. Which was interesting, for various reasons…

For one thing, I had been thinking about fasting myself. Then, I heard a sermon on Acts 13; the preacher briefly focussed on verses 2-3, where the writer mentions twice (!) the fasting of the leaders of the Antioch church. And then, third, I was in a small-group Bible study where the same topic came up for a bit of discussion.

A coincidence? (Or, as some Christians like to call it, albeit with a rather ugly word, a “Godincidence”?) Whatever, I thought it couldn’t do any harm to devote a blog to it.

What are we as Christians to think about fasting? Here are a few reflections, not in any particular order.

First, it figures a lot in the Bible, but far more in the Old Testament than the New. The people of Israel fasted regularly as a nation; but we read also about fasting as individuals, perhaps as a sign of mourning or sadness, or of sorrow for sin. It was a normal aspect of a religious life. This might be the setting where it is of most value to us.

Second, Jesus never told his followers to fast; he simply took it for granted that, being Jews, they would: “When you fast…” he tells them in Matthew 6:16-18. Certainly, he taught them how to fast – they must avoid any suggestion of self-display. But it clearly wasn’t a topic that was, so to speak, high on his agenda. Indeed, it seems he caused puzzlement and even offence to the disciples of John the Baptist and the Pharisees because of his failure to require it (Matthew 9:14). Did they think he wasn’t “religious” enough?

Third, he did, of course, fast himself; indeed, before the start of his ministry he went without food for forty days and nights (Matthew 4:1-11), which suggests that in spite of what I have just said, fasting isn’t something we should lightly dismiss or treat as completely unimportant.

Fourth, there are no hard-and-fast rules about fasting: a whole day? or more? or just one meal? or just one particular item of food? In general throughout the Bible it seems to mean simply a willing act of self-denial in going without food (though in 1 Corinthians 7:5 Paul suggests to married couples what we might call a period of sexual fasting).You could say that for Christians the only “rule” about fasting is that in fact there are no rules.

Fifth, whatever significance we might see in fasting, it seems always to be linked with prayer. Certainly it was that time in Antioch.We might need a period of focussed and intense prayer if we are particularly concerned about something, or if we have slipped into sin, or if we have allowed ourselves to become spiritually sluggish or lazy, or if we have a big decision to make. Fasting is a way of concentrating, of seeking to shut out for a time other intruding thoughts.

Sixth, we need to keep clear in our minds that fasting must not be an attempt, even a subconscious one, to offer God a bribe. We can’t force his hand: “Lord, you will grant me what I need, won’t you, if I devote to you this time of self-denial…” That seems to be the error the people of Israel were guilty of according to Isaiah 58. They actually seem quite affronted with God for not keeping his side of the bargain: “Why have we fasted… and you have not seen it? Why have we humbled ourselves and you have not noticed?” (verse 3).

No! That would make our relation with God a transactional thing, rather than a relationship thing. Isaiah 58:6-9 leaves us in no doubt that while fasting has its place there are other things far higher on God’s list of priorities. The prophet’s words are  later echoed by Jesus in the story of the sheep and goats: the most valuable “fasting” means feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the  sick and imprisoned (Matthew 25:31-46). Let’s never forget that!

Fasting may be a way of humbly demonstrating to God that we really are serious about following Jesus. Of course, he already knows that anyway, doesn’t he? But then it’s like that with all prayer. Can we ever offer to God a prayer he doesn’t already know about?

So… whether we feel it right to fast as individuals, privately and discreetly, or whether we are involved with a local church, like the elders of Antioch in Acts 13 having to make a big decision, let’s do it as part of our love for Jesus, with a true desire to know him better and to love him more. What comes of it? – well, that is for God alone to decide.

And let’s remember, when we look at its overall message we see that the Bible is far more a feasting book than a fasting book! God calls us to enjoy all that we have received in Christ! Let’s do it!

Father, when I particularly feel my weakness and failures, may I find comfort in the hymn-writer’s prayer: “Lord, it is my chief complaint/ That my love is weak and faint;/ Yet I love thee, and adore; O for grace to love thee more!” Amen.

William Cowper (1731-1800)

Right? Wrong? Or neither?

“I have the right to do anything,” you say – but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything” – but not everything is constructive. No one should seek their own good, but the good of others…So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. Do not cause anyone to stumble, whether Jews, Greeks or the church of God… 1 Corinthians 10:23-24, 31-32

So whatever you believe about these things keep between yourself and God. Blessed is the person who doesn’t condemn himself by what he approves. Romans 14:23

Imagine, please, that you receive a wedding invitation from a long-standing friend called Dave. He is someone you have known and respected over many years. So naturally you are pleased to be invited; who wouldn’t want to be there on a friend’s very special day?

But as you read the invitation, you spot a problem: the person Dave is looking forward to marrying is called Mike. Ah!

Dave has always been open about being gay, and you have always been frank about your disagreement with this life-style. But he has never claimed to be a Christian, and you have therefore agreed to disagree, and have remained friends. You are aware of being honoured by the invitation, but your understanding of the Bible’s teaching – something he knows and respects – puts you in an awkward position. Very simply: should you accept the invitation?

If you decline, however graciously, you might seem to be snubbing a true friend; but you don’t feel comfortable about accepting and thereby seeming to condone something you sincerely feel is wrong.

So… what do you do?

I know some Christian friends who found themselves in pretty much this situation, facing pretty much this dilemma. I won’t tell you what they did – just that they found themselves in a quite agonising quandary, in spite of serious prayer. All I will say is that, whatever decision they made, I would have respected them.

There are times in life when we have to choose, not between right and wrong, but between two equally possible options: “grey areas”, they are sometimes called. As Christians we are called to be people of strong convictions, of course: there can be no budging on faith in Almighty God, or on the cardinal truths of the Gospel – Jesus crucified, risen again, and one day returning.

But there are situations, often very practical situations, when it simply isn’t quite so clear-cut; and in Paul’s first letter to the unruly and undisciplined Christians of Corinth, he tackles some of these head-on.

The Corinthian Christians take great delight in what might be called “Christian liberty” – the discovery that through simple faith in Jesus they are not bound by a big stack of petty rules and regulations, a long list of do’s and don’ts. No, loving, trusting and obeying Jesus is enough! – what a relief that offers from always feeling crushed by a failure to “measure up”!

The Corinthians even seem to have developed a little catch-phrase to sum it up: “All things are lawful”, or, as the NIV expands it a little: “I have the right to do anything”. Paul quotes it back at them, first in chapter 6 verse 12, and now again in chapter 10 verse 23.

In principle, Paul is in agreement – Yes, we are indeed set free in Christ. But in each case he adds a little slogan of his own, starting with that vital word “but”: “all things are lawful… but not everything is beneficial”. In other words, the fact that I am at liberty to do a particular thing doesn’t necessarily mean that I should do it. There are times to rein in your freedom rather than enjoy it.

Of course, the catch-phrase “All things are lawful”, even though Paul agrees with it, is not literally true anyway. Murder, for example, and adultery, are decidedly not lawful! One of the things that Paul is talking about in chapter 6 is sexual immorality – specifically, men having sex with prostitutes – and in this respect the very strictest laws apply.

But chapter 10 is very different; Paul is talking about matters of diet: should the Corinthian Christians worry that meat they buy in the open market might originally have been part of a sacrifice offered in a pagan temple? To which his answer is emphatic: No, of course not! Jesus has set us free from such quibbling questions!

The example I quoted at the beginning – should I attend the same-sex “marriage” of a friend? – is a modern-day example of this kind of dilemma. And there is no clear-cut, black-and-white answer: two equally committed Christians may arrive at different answers, and each should respect the other.

Behind the advice Paul is offering to the Corinthians is a fundamental principle: “No one should seek their own good, but the good of others” (1 Corinthians 10:24). He has in mind that my exercise of my liberty in Christ is all very fine – but what if it has the effect of “stumbling” the faith of a less robust, perhaps less mature, Christian? Not so fine, suggests verse 32… (And anyway, we mustn’t dismiss the possibility that the Christian I disagree with could actually be right, and me wrong, can we? A little humility is no bad thing…)

We “strong”, liberated Christians can be thoughtlessly, even arrogantly, sure of ourselves, can’t we? But, as Paul asks in Romans 14:4, “Who are we to judge someone else’s servant?” Who indeed?

Oh God, you are a holy God who calls us too to be pure and holy. But in matters both great and trivial day by day we find ourselves called on to make difficult decisions. Please grant me the wisdom of your Holy Spirit, neither to compromise your holiness, nor to stumble my fellow-believers. Amen.

Words! words! words!

Jesus said, When you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father who is unseen… and do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard for their many words… Matthew 6:6-7

The novelist E M Forster (no friend of the church) wrote of “poor little talkative Christianity”. No doubt he had a point. We Christians (not least ministers and preachers like me) can be guilty of “going on a bit”, and in Forster’s time (he lived from 1879 to 1970) that was even more the case: a sermon lasting merely an hour might well be considered short.

I think Jesus would have had some sympathy with Forster. Teaching about prayer (Matthew 6) he told his followers not to copy the “pagans” who (as the NIV puts it), “babble”. N T Wright translates verse 7: “When you pray, don’t pile up a jumbled heap of words. That’s what the Gentiles do”.

Perhaps Jesus had in mind the kind of incident we read about in 1 Kings 18, where the prophet Elijah and the false prophets of Baal confronted one another on Mount Carmel. Which of them could succeed in getting their God to ignite a sacrifice on the altar? The prophets of Baal “called on the name of Baal from morning till noon. ‘Baal, answer us!’ they shouted”. They “danced around the altar” and went on to “slash themselves with swords and spears”, and all to no avail. That’s easy for us to read; but when we stop and think about it, we realise that it was, well, quite some prayer meeting!

Jesus wants none of such grandstanding: “When you pray, go into your room, close the door, and pray to your Father, who is unseen” (Matthew 6:6). Anything that smacks of display suggests a desire to be noticed and admired by others, and is to be avoided by Jesus’ followers.

That doesn’t mean, of course, that all our praying should be done in solitude, that there is no place at all for public prayer in a service of worship, or of corporate prayer in a small group – to think that would be to interpret Jesus’ words in an overly literal way. But it does mean that as Christians we should be concerned to maintain standards of dignity and respect; perhaps Paul captures it best in rebuking the unruly Christians of Corinth: “Everything should be done in a fitting and orderly way” (1 Corinthians 14:40). (And if that sounds a bit old-fashioned, well, so be it.)

Nor does it mean that there are never times and places for lengthy prayer. Jesus himself fasted and prayed for 40 days at the start of his ministry, and on occasion went out to a lonely place, presumably because he wanted a lengthy, uninterrupted time to himself.

And for us there may be occasions when we pray (and possibly also fast; why not, if that’s how the Spirit moves us?) for extended periods. But if – like me as a young Christian many years ago – you get into the subconscious habit of feeling you must rack up so many minutes of prayer every day, and, even worse, that God might be cross if you fail to do so – if you get into that frame of mind, well, it’s a habit that seriously needs to be broken!

Do we ever pause to notice how vanishingly small (not to mention how unemotional) the Lord’s Prayer is? And that is his gift to the church! Let there be long and even agonized prayers, by all means, as long as they are sincere and from the heart; but in the routine circumstances of life there is a simple ordinariness about prayer which we should value and treasure; it can even be refreshing.

I have sometimes wondered what we would have seen if we had happened upon Jesus one day on one of his solitary prayer walks. Would he have been on his knees? Hands-together-eyes-closed? Eyes lifted to heaven? Would his voice be raised? Would he simply be sitting somewhere, to all appearances just alone with his thoughts? We don’t know, of course, because we aren’t told – which alone suggests that there are no rules.

But what we can be sure of is that when a man or woman is alone with their God, that is sacred ground indeed, and woe betide anyone who sees fit to criticize or find fault with their manner of praying.

And likewise in public worship. Should it be “liturgical”, with set prayers read from a book? Why not? Better that, truly meant, than the long, rambling, shapeless prayers to which some of us perhaps have become addicted. Should it be more “charismatic”, more “extempore” or “ad lib”? Again, why not? – as long as it is truly from the heart, and not just wearisome repetition pretending to be the leading of the Spirit.

The only “rule”, I would suggest, when it comes to any form of public prayer, is that, however brief, it should always be an event, a holy moment: a moment when the congregation is aware of being drawn into the presence of God – none of this “Let’s just have a quick prayer” stuff, please, as a kind of filler!

There is, of course, so much more one could say on the basic and mysterious topic of prayer. But, going back to E M Forster… we live in a world awash with words: books, magazines, papers, radio, television, online, social media, and so on.

Whatever else you do, Christian, don’t add unnecessarily to them!

Thank you, Father, for the brief, simple prayer Jesus gave his disciples, and for the wonderful variety in the example he set for them. Please help me, by your Holy Spirit, that my prayer-life may be a refreshment to me and a blessing to others, and never just a wearisome, dutiful burden. Amen.

Moods (2)

As the deer pants for streams of water,
    so my soul pants for you, my God.
² My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
    When can I go and meet with God?
³ My tears have been my food
    day and night,
while people say to me all day long,
    “Where is your God?”
⁴ These things I remember
    as I pour out my soul:
how I used to go to the house of God
    under the protection of the Mighty One
with shouts of joy and praise
    among the festive throng.

⁵ Why, my soul, are you downcast?
    Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
    for I will yet praise him,
    my Savior and my God.

Psalm 42:1-5

Last time we looked at Psalm 42, the psalm of someone who is in a very low mood, and I pointed out that such experiences are a normal part of life. Much depends on our circumstances – our health, our personal ups and downs, disappointments and encouragements, our family situation, even something as ordinary as the weather on any given day. A lot also depends on our natural temperament – some people are naturally bright and positive, others naturally tend towards gloominess. God understands this, and loves us just the same. What matters is how we handle our moods. As the saying goes, that’s life.

I also pointed out that the psalmist seems determined to avoid the sin of self-pity. Yes, he does feel abandoned by God, and has a faith robust enough, like Job, to take God to task for this; but he takes himself to task too: “Why, my soul, are you downcast…?” May God give us the faith always to steer well clear of “Poor me!” mode! There are times for giving ourselves a good talking to.

But there are other things which I didn’t have room for. Here are three, which I’ll put in the form of personal resolves…

First, let’s be determined to root out any possible sin.

I said that low moods are normal, and not necessarily a sign of sin. But that word “necessarily” is important; low moods may be a sign of sin. Every Christian is tempted by the devil, and there are times we fall to the temptation, and if/when that happens, let’s not imagine that we are going to carry on feeling bright and sunny – unless, sadly, we have developed hard hearts.

The word “sin” doesn’t cover just the gross failures reflected in, say, the ten commandments – no, times we give in to hidden selfishness, or pride, or lust, or greed, or spite, or anger, or jealousy are just as offensive to our holy God. And it’s a cast-iron rule of the Christian life that you can’t be both a disobedient Christian and a happy one at the same time: the two things cancel each other out. So we need to take ourselves in hand.

In 2 Corinthians 13:5 Paul tells his readers to “examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith”. That’s not something to do in a morbid, “I’m nothing but a worm”, frame of mind, but simply seeking light from God on anything in our lives that displeases him (and being genuinely willing to change, of course, if he does just that!). It’s no accident that Christians of an earlier generation used to warn about the danger of “backsliding”: how easy it is to drift! Is it time for a session of honest self-examination?

Jesus tells us to “be perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect” (Matthew 5:48); let’s take that seriously.

Second, let’s not be afraid to seek help.

I said last time that where low moods become fixed they may also become clinical, and outside help may be needed. If there is a trusted Christian therapist available, that’s good; but we should not dismiss the value of secular professional expertise, either in terms of medication or of “talking cures”.

But let’s not forget that we also have (I hope!) the gift of wise and loving Christian friends who we can talk to and who we can ask to pray for us. They may have been through similar mood-swings themselves, and if they have been Christians for many years they will have gathered stores of wisdom through experience and observation from which we can benefit.

Prayer is key. It’s easy to slip into cynicism: “What difference will that make?” This is very natural, because we rarely see quick or obvious answers to prayer; but the plain fact is that God tells us to pray, and to do so persistently. The only alternative to praying is… well, not praying – and who, reading the Bible, can contemplate such an alternative! True, there may be times we find praying for ourselves pretty well impossible; but that’s all the more reason to recruit the support of others. Isn’t that what friends are for? A problem shared is a problem halved, says worldly wisdom – and that’s even more true for the family of God.

This leads to…

Third, let’s learn patience.

Reading the Bible, we are often struck by the way God’s time scheme differs from ours. He is a God who is always looking to the future. We naturally want things to happen… now, andhaving to wait can be frustrating, and seem to make no sense. (Just browse through the psalms as a whole and notice the repeated cry, How long, O Lord, how long…?)

But, as a great old hymn says, God is working his purpose out, as year succeeds to year… It is often through the delays that we learn the most important lessons, to mature and equip us for the unknown future. God doesn’t play games with us for fun; anything he allows to happen to us is for a purpose we can trust.

I have recently been reading through the story of Joseph, Jacob’s son, in Genesis. If ever anybody might be entitled to be overwhelmed by low moods, it would surely be him. But the wonderful climax to his story is even more overwhelming, and fully bears out the words of that hymn. Joseph, having suffered terribly, and having been brought low from his youthful arrogance, is able to assure his guilty, ashamed brothers that “God meant it for good…” (Genesis 50:20).

So it will be for all who maintain their trust in God. The same Jesus who died in agony and ignominy rose again in glory.

And so, one day, will we.

Father, I often feel so feeble and helpless as I am tossed up and down by the unpredictability of my moods. Please help me to cling hard to you in faith and obedience, making use of the kindness of my Christian brothers and sisters, until I come to that day when I can look back and see how it all fitted together. Amen.

Moods

As the deer pants for streams of water,
    so my soul pants for you, my God.
² My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
    When can I go and meet with God?
³ My tears have been my food
    day and night,
while people say to me all day long,
    “Where is your God?”
⁴ These things I remember
    as I pour out my soul:
how I used to go to the house of God
    under the protection of the Mighty One
with shouts of joy and praise
    among the festive throng.

⁵ Why, my soul, are you downcast?
    Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
    for I will yet praise him,
    my Savior and my God.

Psalm 42:1-5

Would you describe yourself as a moody person? Up one day, down the next?

Whoever wrote Psalm 42 might well have done so. Twice in this psalm (and then once more in the next) he puts to himself the same question: Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?

There’s nothing at all unusual about low moods in the psalms (or any other parts of the Bible, come to that), but very often the writer links them with either a strong personal sense of sin and guilt (eg Psalm 51), or with grief after news of a defeat or other setback for Israel as a nation (eg Psalm 44).

But Psalm 42 is rather different. There seems to be no specific reason why he feels the way he does: he’s just thoroughly down – and can’t quite put his finger on why. He has the faith to call God “my Rock”, but still feels forgotten by him (verse 9). It reminds me of a powerful line in a poem by Shakespeare when he is in a similar frame of mind: “with what I most enjoy contented least” (Sonnet 29). I imagine that even those of us who reckon to be pretty positive and cheerful by temperament know that feeling, when even our greatest pleasures somehow seem flat and stale.

(Some people, of course, suffer with clinical depression, which is far more than just feeling low and may well need professional help. Could that be the psalmist’s situation? Yes or no, such people need all the love, support and prayer we can offer them – and not just to be told to “snap out of it” or “pull yourself together”.)

Various things are worth bearing in mind.

First, low moods are normal.

As I’m writing, it’s the tail-end of March, and I got up this morning just as it was starting to get light. Light enough to see that it was raining hard; and I involuntarily groaned under my breath, “Oh, not again!” (It’s no accident that we sometimes speak of being “under the weather”, is it?) It didn’t help when a little later I picked up the paper and read about the large quantities of sewage being pumped into Britain’s rivers; or saw the word “crisis” applied yet again to the National Health Service; or saw news of the horrors happening in Gaza, or Ukraine, or Myanmar, or Sudan, or wherever; or saw predictions about “schools at breaking point”; or when, having turned to prayer, I called to mind the many people in my life who are grappling with long-term illness.

These things are raw realities – and they can’t be cheerily fobbed off with, “Well, at least it’s a good thing that God’s in control!” Try telling that to the parents who can’t feed their children, or the person struggling with terminal sickness. Somebody wrote a book a few years ago called “It’s OK not to be OK”. I don’t know if they were a Christian, but whether they were or not, that’s a basic truth we all sometimes need to get hold of. Is it a truth for you today?

Second, that truth doesn’t justify self-pity.

We need to notice that the psalmist, however wretched he feels, hasn’t given up on God; indeed, he tells us that “my soul thirsts for God, for the living God”. Job-like, he dares to question God; but he makes no secret of the fact that he feels abandoned by him. Downcast he may be, but he’s obviously making a brave attempt to “hang on in there”, as we say. And the psalm ends on an optimistic note: “Put your hope in God”, he says to himself, “for I will yet praise him, my Saviour and my God”. He is keeping self-pity at bay.

My wife has recently been reading through Lamentations – a book that doesn’t exactly promise a bundle of laughs. She was struck by the final verses, where the writer questions God: “Why do you always forget us…” That struck us as possibly crossing the line into self-pity – it’s the word “always” that does it, isn’t it? Do you remember, when you were a child, pouting and sulking and demanding to know “Why is it always me that gets told off?”

I’m probably doing the writer of Lamentations an injustice. Who am I to say? But perhaps it can serve to remind us that while doubt and questioning are not necessarily sins, self-pity – the “It’s not fair!” reaction, the “Poor me!” reaction – is, and we should struggle not to  give into it.

Faith can be hard, as the Bible demonstrates from beginning to end; but God is a demanding as well as a loving God, and he always looks for faith that refuses to die (and delights when he finds it – see Matthew 8:10).

There is of course a lot more that might be said; perhaps we’ll come back to it next time. But I’m sure the best final word is gloriously simple: Let’s always remember, God has sent to this world a Saviour who cried out in agony on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” That, of course, is far more than a mere “mood”.

But, nonetheless, there is our God. Take comfort from that!.

Father, please help me to remember Jesus on the cross – and then raised on the third day – at all times, especially when my mood is low and heavy and I feel like the psalmist. Amen.

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.

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.