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)

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.

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.

Justification 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.