The Struggle with Holiness

About a year ago I read a book with the title “Struggling to be Holy”. The author’s name is Judy Hirst – and reading that book is one of the first significant steps I took on the road of considering how to engage with the United Reformed Church’s move into promoting more intentional missional discipleship under the banner headline of ‘walking the way’ and with the sub-title ‘living the life of Jesus today’.

Christian discipleship is nothing new. It started when Jesus said to four fishermen on the shore of Lake Galilee ‘come and follow me’. Because that is all Christian discipleship is – following Jesus. We have all engaged in discipleship in different ways, and continue to do so. But sometimes it is worth just thinking about what we are doing. Sometimes it is worth challenging ourselves – and I find the notion of holy habits very helpful in that.

However, I also need to admit, and I suspect you may need to also, that I frequently struggle to be holy – and that is why I identify with the title of Judy Hirst’s book, ‘Struggling to be Holy’ – but, more than that, as I read the book, I found a lot of what she said really helpful. I have come across plenty of books where I have liked the title, and felt it said something to me, but then discovered that the content, in my opinion at least, didn’t live up to the promise I saw in the title. But that was not the case here – and so I would like to explore a little of what she says with you.

First, a comment on holiness itself -  “Holiness is about God being present and our being present to God. The more we can be in honest relationship with God, the holier we will become. Some Christians behave as if the task is to persuade God to be with them, but the delightful truth is that he is already present in the relationship. The problem is to be present ourselves. God is there but where are we?”

I think it is really helpful to remember that holiness is not about our trying to do it – because we won’t. We can’t. It’s about our connection with God. It is a bit like the now fairly well-known saying that, I think, came from Rowan Williams – ‘Mission is a matter of finding what God is doing and joining in.’ Now, of course, it is important that we respond to God’s call. That is what discipleship is. But it is important to remember that God was there first, if I can put it that way. I can’t do stuff that will make me holy, no matter how hard I try. I can do all sorts of good things. I can create or enter a context which is helpful to a holy approach. But in the end, my connection with holiness comes because of what God does. It is God who is holy. And God is there for us. And God wants to relate to us. That is why we are called. But it is also important to remember that God takes us just as we are. Of course, there are times when it would be good if we did things in a better way. But there is no exam to pass. There is no grade to reach. And sometimes it is worth remembering that God loves and values us, and that is us as we are. Hirst reminds us of the important that can be played by the things in us that can be difficult. She writes: “if I could jettison the parts of me I found troublesome I would also lose parts of myself which I valued. We are complex realities and we need to learn to love what we are, both delightful and damaged, and put it all into the hands of the master potter to form into something unique and beautiful.” Or, rather more simply, she also puts it like this, talking about the times when she has come to God and simply said, “Here I am, what a mess.”

I don’t know about you, but I find it really reassuring to be reminded that I can come to God with that kind of approach. I like to get things right. We all do. But I certainly don’t always manage it. And I find it helpful to be reminded of the conversation that the risen Jesus had with Peter just after they had shared breakfast beside the lake, the ‘do you love me?’ conversation, significant not least because of the question being asked three times, mirroring the threefold denial that Peter had uttered just before the crucifixion.

Let me read a slightly longer passage from Judy Hirst’s book, which expands on this thinking: “So very often people in a mess (and that’s most of us most of the time) feel they can’t pray because they can’t say the words that they think God wants to hear. We fear that we can only pray by giving God the right answers. In fact, the biggest danger is simply not to pray, to fail to be in conversation with the God who loves us. Far better to say to God, if it is your truth, that for example, …. you really want to forgive this person for what they have done, but you also want to hate them forever! Trust God with the mess and inconsistency! The response God wants is the response we can make even if the stuff of our response is sometimes contradiction, confusion and irrationality. Invite him to be part of the resolution, to help you to begin to grow into the person whom he yearns for you to become. I am always helped in this by Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. He prayed as he felt. He longed that God would take the cup from him. He asked God for what he wanted, inviting him into the mess, but none the less was able to say ‘Yet not my will but yours be done.’ He was able, in these hugely terrifying circumstances, to trust himself absolutely to the God whom he knew loved him. God doesn’t want us to pretend. We don’t need to protect him from the truth.”

As she also says, rather more briefly: “God can live with the reality that we are still sinners even if we find it hard to do so!”

You might not expect me to say this, but sometimes our problem is that we try too hard. It’s not that it’s wrong to try. But it is wrong to not trust God. And sometimes we need to learn to leave things in God’s capable hands.

Let me offer just one more quote from Judy Hirst which reminds us of how challenging it is to be holy, and yet, at the same time, how easy it is, if only we will let God do God’s bit - I am reminded of a Peanuts cartoon ….. Charlie Brown comes to visit Lucy at her 5 cent psychiatrist booth. Lucy says to Charlie Brown that life is like a cruise liner. Some people put their deckchairs up at the back of the liner and like to look back to where they have come from. Others like to pitch their deckchair at the front and look ahead to where they are going. What about you, Charlie Brown? Where do you put your deck chair on the cruise liner of life? There is a long, sad, bemused pause. ‘Heck,’ Charlie Brown says, ‘I don’t even know how to put my deck chair up!’” Hirst adds: “Believe you me, having listened in depth to the lives of many people; it seems to me this is the reality for most of us! The challenge is to learn to pray as we are and this is closely linked to our ability to accept ourselves as we are and not as the idealised people we might imagine ourselves to be.”

[Part of an address given to the Colchester & Tendring Area Partnership within the Eastern Synod of the United Reformed Church at Plume Avenue URC, Colchester on 1^st November 2018.]

Church Is Who We Are

“Church is not something we do; it’s who we are.” So says Neil Hudson in his book “Imagine Church”. He also says this: “The goal of disciple-making is not to make us more adept in church life, nor even more alert to the theological debates that may be raging in church circles. The goal is to enable us to live our lives in a way that reflects our Master’s intentions for the world around us.” So, how on earth do we do that? How do we reflect Jesus’ intentions in the world which we inhabit? How, putting it fractionally differently, do we walk the way? How do we live the life of Jesus today?

It is always good in our thinking to look for a Biblical clue, and I love the account that Luke gives us, in the final chapter of his Gospel, about that bit of walking that took place on the road to Emmaus. That was a walk those two were never going to forget – and I find all sorts of interesting things come spinning out of that story to challenge and encourage me.

Can you imagine walking along that road?  What a range of emotions those two disciples must have felt!  In a sense it was a pointless walk.  Everything must have felt pretty pointless to them just then.  Yet, in another sense, it was a walk loaded with purpose – because of what was going to happen.  I suppose they would never have known what they had missed if they had decided to stay an extra night in Jerusalem – but how much poorer we all would be, not just this pair, if we didn’t have this story.       

I could say lots, and much of it would apply to our thinking about what walking the way means to and for us.  But let me just say two things.  First, they went because they knew where they were going.  Second, but actually they didn’t know where they were going – because the journey was about to be transformed, and extended.

They were on this walk, in the first place, because they were going home.  There was nothing left for them in Jerusalem.  There was no point in staying.  All sorts of things prompt our journeys, are reasons why we choose to walk to a particular place.  As we consider the way that God may be calling us to walk, don’t discount the obvious.  Don’t discount the routine.  Don’t ignore the fact that God may be calling you to what you consider very ordinary.  Sometimes the extraordinary things of God are found in the otherwise extremely ordinary.  God may well want us to engage with the familiar.  Indeed, almost always, it is a good place to start.

But, and here is the other aspect of this story, we also need to be ready to be surprised.  It was maybe not that surprising for them to be caught up by a ‘stranger’.  That sort of thing would happen – but what followed was far beyond their wildest dreams.  Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road?  Well, actually, it would appear that they weren’t – because they clearly didn’t have a clue, until they saw him break the bread.  As we look to walk the way, are we ready to be surprised?  Are we ready for the unexpected?  Are we willing to grab the opportunities that come our way?  And, of course, are we ready to be pushed a bit further?  A walk of about seven miles is suddenly doubled.  It becomes fourteen.  They had made their weary way to Emmaus.  But now the news can’t wait – and they rush back to Jerusalem, not in the least concerned at the prospect of retracing their steps.

We know all about walking second miles.  But this is a far more significant doubling up.  Seven becomes fourteen. 

Do you remember how Isaiah thought that he had done pretty well for God?  He had served God with energy and commitment.  He had done his bit, or so he thought.  Only God had a very different idea of things.  God had just the thing lined up for Isaiah, a new and bigger task.  It is there in Isaiah 49, verse 6 – (God) says, ‘It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.  Isaiah thought that he had done well by taking God’s message to the Israelites – but God suggests that to be just the beginning.  Isaiah is to take the message not just to the Israelites, but to the nations. 

Lots of times God will just want us to walk a little way, and that’s good – but are we ready for the big thing, if that is what God is calling us towards?

As we consider the challenges and opportunities of walking the way, it is helpful to think again of the notion of developing holy habits.  Our holy habits, whatever they may be, can help us to be in tune with God.  There are, of course, many approaches we can take as we consider just what are the holy habits to which God is calling us, at the moment.  There are many different ways of describing what it is that we are called to do and be.

The classic list of ten is to be found towards the end of Acts 2, and it is a helpful list.  There is probably more than enough there – but I like thinking about different approaches which might just strike a helpful note.

One approach is to think about what might be called ‘ancient practices’ and to consider how they might help us in the challenge of developing good holy habits.  The fact is that we need God’s help as we seek to be the people God wants us to be.  As Brian McLaren puts it: “You can’t take an epidural shot to ease the pain of giving birth to character.”  He also says: “You can construct a great way …. a path, a road, a hallway, a passage … but unless it leads to the right destination, what good is it?”

I am sure that there are different lists of ancient practices, but I want to suggest a list of six – and two on that list, prayer and celebrating the sacred meal of Holy Communion, are in the Acts 2 list of ten, so I am going to pass over them for the moment – but that leaves us with four that I want to mention.

The first of these four is the ancient practice, the holy habit, of pilgrimage.  It links closely to the notion of walking.  A pilgrimage is a walk to a special place.  The walk might be long, or short – that is not important.  A pilgrimage does have an arriving, but the journey is just as important.  Is there somewhere that God wants you to go on a regular, or occasional, basis?  Would the holy habit of pilgrimage enhance your spiritual life?

The second of these is the practice, or habit, of tithing.  This links to generosity, which is one of the ten, but is more specific and, I suspect, more challenging.  This is about a particular level of giving.  How do we view giving?  Would we class it as a holy habit?  If so, what does that mean for our giving?  If not, why not?

Then, third, we have the practice, or habit, of fasting.  This links to prayer, but it would be wrong to simply identify it as prayer.  It is an idea that is perhaps not particularly prevalent these days – but the idea of detoxing, on the other hand, is gaining popularity.  We take part in dry January or ‘go sober for October’.  We give up chocolate or some other treat for Lent.  And so on.  Is that not a twenty-first century form of fasting?  And what do such things do?  Well, all sorts.  It is certainly worth considering whether to make fasting, in some form or another, a holy habit.  Apart from anything else, and there can be many benefits, it can help us to consider our priorities.

And so, fourthly, and finally, and where I want to put a little bit of emphasis, there is the ancient practice, or holy habit, of sabbath.  We are so good at making ourselves busy.  We are so good at rushing around.  There is so much to be said for pressing the pause button.  The principle of sabbath is fundamental to all that the Bible offers us.  Genesis 2, verse 3 – so God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation.  We need to rest.  We need to relax.  We need times of refreshment. 

Taking time just offers so much possibility.  As Dan Allender has it: “Delight doesn’t require a journey thousands of miles away to taste the presence of God, but it does require a separation from the mundane, an intentional choice to enter joy and follow God as he celebrates the glory of his creation and his faithfulness to keep his covenant to redeem the captives.”  I like that idea of sabbath opening us to such possibility, such joy.  The Old Testament scholar, Walter Brueggemann, also helps to discover the amazing impact of sabbath, which he describes as representing “a radical disengagement from the producer-consumer rat race of the empire.  The community welcomes members of any race or nation, any gender or social condition, so long as that person is defined by justice, mercy and compassion, and not competition, achievement, production or acquisition.”  I think there is so much to be gained from developing sabbath as a holy habit.

So what way is God calling you to walk today?  What holy habit does God want you to take up?

(Address given at the Synod Meeting of the Eastern Synod of the United Reformed Church, October 2018)

God's Beloved

I have just finished reading “God’s Beloved”, Michael O’Laughlin’s moving and inspiring biography of Henri Nouwen. O’Laughlin sub-titles the book ‘a spiritual biography of Henri Nouwen’, a suitably descriptive comment. The book carefully explores Nouwen and his spirituality and, in so doing, offers a range of insights about the spiritual life.

O’Laughlin spends quite a bit of time exploring Nouwen’s weaknesses in a way that seems supremely appropriate. I can’t imagine that Nouwen would have objected. It seems to me that Nouwen recognised the value of vulnerability, a part of his life especially discovered and emphasised through his involvement in L’Arche. As O’Laughlin comments: “Henri teaches us that we grow in holiness by becoming more completely ourselves and acknowledging our authentic feelings and failures.” (p. 85)

Another important element of Nouwen’s thinking emphasised by O’Laughlin is his engaging with people in a way that reflects Jesus doing precisely the same. O’Laughlin: “Jesus scandalized others when he healed on the Sabbath, and he then explained that human beings were more important than the days of the week. Henri many times went right around the rules as well, as long as a greater truth was served.” (p. 120)

In a similar vein, O’Laughlin separately writes: “The world that Henri saw around him was full of people. Their humanity attracted him, and their need for light and inspiration called out to him, but that was not what made him write so creatively or love so many of them. Instead, Henri Nouwen’s considerable contribution to Christian spirituality was based on a decision, renewed again and again, to be true to himself.” (p. 162)

In short, Nouwen felt himself called to a ministry of care and concern. He simply wanted to share and express God’s love in practical ways. In so doing, he provides a helpful, but challenging, model.

Jonah's Journey

I have recently been doing a bit of reading around Jonah and enjoyed Denis McBride's Journeying With Jonah. I like the way in which McBride relates the story to the things in which we might well be engaged.

So, for example, he uses the story to remind us that God doesn't discard just because we turn our backs on God's way.

“As Jonah sets his personal compass for distance from God, that same God turns towards Jonah, refusing to abandon his prophet.  God does not allow Jonah’s rebellion to have the last word.  The chase is on, not to condemn Jonah for his desertion but to summon him back to his original calling – an image of hope for all who travel a similar route.”

He reminds us of the value of what he calls 'coming to ourselves'. We are pretty good at pursuing our reckless way and we, too, need that thing that causes us to pause and reflect.

“Not unlike the Prodigal Son who, after a long journey in flight from where he belonged, ended up in a Gentile’s pig-pen where “he came to himself” (Luke 15:17), the prophet Jonah will come to himself in an even more unlikely place as he ends up in the belly of the great fish.  Often we do not choose the place where, after detours and deviations, we come home to ourselves: one day we just end up in an unexpected place – where we might feel imprisoned – and the experience forces or invites us to look at ourselves again.”

I also like McBride's challenge to see a bigger picture that goes way beyond ourselves. I fear that, too often, we model ourselves on Jonah and miss that bigger thing that represents God's Kingdom values.

"We are all questioned by God’s insistent and abiding mercy: “And should I not be concerned about …?”  God invites us to go beyond our prejudices and allow a larger perspective to hold.  “And should I not be concerned about …?”  We fill in the rest of the sentence, if we dare, naming our favourite enemies, the people we would surely reckon to be beyond the reach of mercy or understanding.  We pause at the names, or the races, or the religions.  Whoever.  Can we allow God to be the kind of God he chooses to be, scandalising us with his mercy to those people?”

Looking to Mark

I have been reflecting on Mark this afternoon with the help of Rowan Williams’ “Meeting God in Mark”, a great, and enjoyable, introduction to Mark’s Gospel.

Williams point out that Mark’s concern is not to give a carefully constructed diary, but rather to introduce the reader to a person – “He doesn’t give you anything much like a connected story ….  here is the anointed Jesus doing this, doing that …. and as you work through this collection of apparently disconnected anecdotes, you begin to see what sort of person he is.” Mark’s concern is to help us to meet Jesus.

Williams goes on to emphasise the message as the important element. Jesus does perform some miracles, and Mark reports these, but they are always there to make things right for someone, and never as a demonstration of power on the part of Jesus. “It’s being taken for granted that Jesus is indeed a healer and an exorcist and that the miracles he performs are real. But what Jesus himself refuses to do is to base his authority on ‘signs and wonders’.”

The task of Mark is to point people towards Jesus and, in so doing, to recognise the depths of God’s love.

Bonhoeffer on the Place of the Church

In the final segment of his book "The Cost of Discipleship", Bonhoeffer outlines his doctrine of the church.  Discipleship happens within the context of the church. 

Bonhoeffer stresses that we are the Body of Christ.  That is the essential statement about the church:

“Christ’s place on earth has been taken by his Body, the Church. The Church is the real presence of Christ. Once we have realized this truth we are well on the way to recovering an aspect of the Church’s being which has been sadly neglected in the past. We should think of the Church not as an institution, but as a person, though of course a person in a unique sense.”

He recognises the place of the word though that on its own, he suggests, is not enough.  We also need the sacraments:

“The word of preaching is insufficient to make us members of Christ’s Body; the sacraments also have to be added. Baptism incorporates us into the unity of the Body of Christ, and the Lord’s Supper fosters and sustains our fellowship and communion (κοινωνíα) in that Body.”

The church, for Bonhoeffer, is really important.  It is the means of God’s holiness coming into the world.  He writes:

“The holiness of God means his coming to dwell in the midst of the world and to establish his sanctuary as the place from which he sends forth his judgement and redemption (Ps. 99 etc.). Moreover, it is in this sanctuary that God enters into a relationship with his people by an act of atonement such as can only be effected in the sanctuary (Lev. 16.16 ff). God makes a covenant with his people and separates them from the world as his own possession, and vouches himself for this covenant. ‘Ye shall be holy: for I the Lord your God am holy’ (Lev. 19.2), and again, ‘I the Lord, which sanctify you, am holy’ (Lev. 21.8). This is the foundation on which the covenant is based. All the subsequent legislation presupposes and is intended to maintain the holiness of God and his people. Like God himself, the Holy One, the people of his sanctuary are also separated from all things profane and from sin. For God has made them the people of his covenant, choosing them for himself, making atonement for them and purifying them in his sanctuary. Now the sanctuary is the temple, and the temple is the Body of Christ. Hence the ultimate purpose of God, which is to establish a holy community, is at last fulfilled in the Body of Christ.”

So, disciples, empowered by God, can really make a difference.

Bonhoeffer on the Disciple as Messenger

The third segment of Dietrich Bonhoeffer's book "The Cost of Discipleship" considers the task of the disciple as a messenger.  This is, in fact, further commentary on Matthew as Bonhoeffer reflects on a section of the gospel starting near to the end of chapter 9, at verse 35, and running through to the end of chapter 10. 

This very brief section focusses on the role of the disciples, both as individuals and a group and the challenges of the task they face.  They are individuals, and Jesus calls them for who they are.  They are the messengers, and they are Jesus’ choice.  So, Bonhoeffer reminds us:

“Simon the Rock-man, Matthew the publican, Simon the Zealot, the champion of law and justice against the oppression of the Gentiles, John the beloved disciple, who lay on Jesus’ breast, and the others, of whom we know nothing except their names, then lastly Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.  No power in the world could have united these men for a common task, save the call of Jesus.  But that call transcended all their previous divisions.”

There is, then, a question as to the gifts and abilities that we bring to the discipleship task.  Bonhoeffer gives expression to what disciples are called to do which may, or may not, need re-interpreting in our day:

“They are charged to proclaim the advent of the kingdom of heaven, and to confirm their message by performing signs.  They must heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead and drive out devils.  The message becomes an event, and the event confirms the message.”

Bonhoeffer on the Beatitudes

The second major section of Bonhoeffer’s “The Cost of Discipleship” explores the Sermon on the Mount and what we can learn of discipleship by considering the three chapters of Matthew, 5, 6 and 7, that contain this ‘sermon’.  Bonhoeffer emphasises the need for disciples to be counter-cultural.  Disciples see things in a different way and challenge the standard world perspective.  So, for example, Bonhoeffer says this of the beatitude which recognises the blessedness of those who mourn:

“By ‘mourning’ Jesus, of course, means doing without what the world calls peace and prosperity: He means refusing to be in tune with the world or to accommodate oneself to its standards. Such men [sic] mourn for the world, for its guilt, its fate and its fortune. While the world keeps holiday they stand aside, and while the world sings, ‘Gather ye rose-buds while ye may’, they mourn. They see that for all the jollity on board, the ship is beginning to sink. The world dreams of progress, of power and of the future, but the disciples meditate on the end, the last judgement, and the coming of the kingdom. To such heights the world cannot rise. And so the disciples are strangers in the world, unwelcome guests and disturbers of the peace. No wonder the world rejects them!”

Disciples are to do what Jesus did – and there are two particular points that stand out for me here.  One is about suffering and what Bonhoeffer calls being part of ‘the fellowship of the crucified’.  The other is about visibility.  Properly executed, discipleship needs to be seen.  So, Bonhoeffer writes:

“The fellowship of the beatitudes is the fellowship of the Crucified. With him it has lost all, and with him it has found all. From the cross there comes the call ‘blessed, blessed’. The last beatitude is addressed directly to the disciples, for only they can understand it, ‘Blessed are ye when men shall reproach you, and persecute you, and say all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake. Rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.’ ‘For my sake’ the disciples are reproached, but because it is for his sake, the reproach falls on him. It is he who bears the guilt.

The followers are a visible community; their discipleship visible in action which lifts them out of the world – otherwise it would not be discipleship. And of course the following is as visible to the world as a light in the darkness or a mountain rising from a plain. Flight into the invisible is a denial of the call.”

Bonhoeffer on Discipleship and Grace

Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s ‘The Cost of Discipleship’ begins with an exploration of the relationship between discipleship and grace but also emphasises the starting point as being recognising the call to discipleship.  Discipleship is not something that we choose to do.  It is not something on which we take the initiative.  It is God’s initiative.  As Bonhoeffer has it:

“Discipleship is not an offer which man [sic] makes to Christ.  It is only the call which creates the situation.”

We often talk about response, and that is valid, vital even – but we need something to which to respond.  Bonhoeffer takes this a little further, pointing out that it is what we do, not what we say, that makes us disciples.  It is not the confession of faith that is the defining mark of a disciple, important though that may be.  It is the act of obedience, though both are needed.  We can’t be disciples without doing the stuff that disciples do.  So, Bonhoeffer says:

“And as he passed by he saw Levi, the son of Alphæus, sitting at the place of toll, and he saith unto him, Follow me. And he arose and followed him. (Mark 2.14) The call goes forth, and is at once followed by the response of obedience. The response of the disciples is an act of obedience, not a confession of faith in Jesus.”

It is, of course, all bound up with the actual cost of discipleship.  Discipleship is about commitment.  What is the level of commitment that we are willing to make, in secular, practical terms, what is the price that we are prepared to pay?  This takes us into the realm of grace and Bonhoeffer’s challenging, yet helpful, concepts of costly and cheap grace.  As he says:

“The only man who has the right to say that he is justified by grace alone is the man who has left all to follow Christ. Such a man knows that the call to discipleship is a gift of grace, and that the call is inseparable from the grace. But those who try to use this grace as a dispensation from following Christ are simply deceiving themselves.”

Discipleship that doesn’t make a difference is not discipleship at all.  The grace is God’s, but it needs to flow through us.  That is something that just happens.  So grace enables discipleship and discipleship responds to grace.

Facing Decline, Finding Hope

I recently read “Facing Decline, Finding Hope: New Possibilities for Faithful Churches” by Jeffrey D. Jones. We are in a situation where, for the most part, the traditional mainline denominations of the church are in decline in the UK and in western society. That is, of course, nothing new, and sometimes we do well to remind ourselves of that. However, there is no doubt that it poses a challenge. One thing that strikes me is that we can mourn the decline and get caught up in questioning why it is happening, when what we are actually called to do is to bear witness – and leave the rest to God.

One important point to note is that sometimes we are called to lay things down. On the whole we are not good at that. We want to sustain things. But, as Jones reminds us: “This is a time in which we need to face the difficult, often painful reality that new life comes only when we die to the old life. Too many renewal efforts seek to avoid this practical and theological reality, and because they do so, they are unable to address the true nature of our situation and offer a solid hope for the future. We need to be more concerned about resurrection than renewal.”

Alongside that he encourages us to look to get involved in what God is doing – “What matters is that we are convinced that God is up to something in this time, as much as in any time the Bible talks about, any time in history. What matters is that we are determined to be part of that thing, no matter what it is.”

The important thing is not to be concerned about what we might all ‘things going wrong’ but to be faithful to what God is calling us to be and do. There lies hope.

Jones reminds us that our focus needs to be mission. “Letting go of the congregation’s focus on its own concerns may be essential. Many congregations, especially those that are struggling, develop an inward focus. They are concerned about financial viability, maintaining programs, filling offices and boards. This is quite natural, but it is also deadly. Refocusing the congregation on what God is up to in the world is difficult, but essential. Simply asking the question may create resistance. Both practically and theologically this shift is needed, however. Chances of survival are greater if a church has a strong mission emphasis.”

We cannot ignore the challenges of decline, but we should not be focussed on them. What we need to do and be is missional disciples.

Discipleship in the Modern City

One of the key speakers at the recent Yarnfield Conference fior United Reformed Church Ministers was the Revd. Dr. Rowan Williams, Master of Magdalene College, Cambridge, and former Archbishop of Canterbury. Dr. Williams retold the stories of three faithful women - Maria Skobtsova, Dorothy Day and Madeleine Delbrel. He used their lives as models of discipleship under the general title of ‘Discipleship in the Modern City’. Dr. Williams’ use of the stories of ordinary people who did remarkable things must have set many of us wondering as to who are the people we know and encounter who do extraordinary things and so live out an amazing discipleship. His talks were a reminder of the importance of faithfulness and that we can often find special things going on in the most unexpected places.

The Discipleship Challenge

Revd. Dr. Peggy Kabonde

One of the keynote speakers at the recent conference for United Reformed Church ministers held at the Yarnfield Conference Centre (Stone) was the Revd. Dr. Peggy Kabonde. Dr. Kabonde is the General Secretary of the United Church of Zambia. In three inspiring, and powerful, addresses she explored the challenge to discipleship that lies before the church. She reminded us that we face the very same challenge as that with which Jesus confronted four fishermen (Andrew, Simon, James and John) on the beach beside Lake Galilee – ‘come with me and fish for people’. We are called to go with Jesus and to tell the story.

She began by asking us to consider some basic, but important, questions concerning the church. These were:

What is Church?

Why is Church?

Who runs the Church?

Where is Church?

Why is there Church?

We live in a fast-changing world, especially in terms of technology and social media, and need to consider how we can engage effectively and appropriately with the context in which we are set. Importantly, she reminded us that “the starting point of the early church on discipleship was practical rather than theoretical.” That was a timely reminder for a church that is so good at the planning stage, but somehow seems to be so much less expert at moving beyond that. She encouraged us to look at ourselves as “people of presence”, rather than agonising over how to make plans. Being contextual is critical, but not at the expense of the message.

This Is Our Story

Recently we had a big conference to which all ministers of the United Reformed Church were invited and over half (a little more than 300) came. It was an inspiring opportunity to see the breadth of the United Reformed Church and to gain a glimpse of the variety of what God is doing through our denomination. It was encouraging that, despite some pre-conference misgivings, it received a very substantial ‘thumbs up’ from those who attended.

The over-arching theme was the URC’s current emphasis on missional discipleship under the banner of ‘Walking the Way: living the life of Jesus today.’

The Bible studies helped us get into this theme. Loveday Alexander, who led these, guided us through a whistle-stop tour of Mark’s Gospel, encouraging us to see the journey as a pilgrimage. She reminded us that the story is not just the story of Jesus, but also the story of the first disciples. The story of Jesus is lived out through those who follow him. Thus, Jesus’ story today is our story and it is our task to make the Kingdom live in meaningful ways.

She reminded us “Discipleship is not an autonomous goal nor an end in itself. Discipleship is part of a bigger story: the messianic community is called into being to act as agents for the Kingdom of God.” In the end we are, or should be, about doing stuff for God.

“Discipleship therefore cannot be divorced from ecclesiology. Disciples are called as individuals to be part of a community. A distinctive calling – to work together for the furthering of God’s Kingdom.” We each have our part to play. That is being a disciple – but we need to remember that we are part of something bigger. That’s a church!

Lost and Found

The idea of being found is something very special and a key Biblical concept. There are, for instance, the three 'lost and found' stories - about the sheep, the coin and the son - but they are just some of the best known among many such examples. Brother David Steindl-Rast picks up this notion in his Gratefulness: the Heart of Prayer, writing: (p. 117) – “I find. But what I find is not what I was looking for. I find that what I was after, without knowing it, wasn’t finding at all, but being found. And at that moment I am found.”

Finding is something that produces great joy, as does being found. It is worth remembering how God comes looking for us.

Weather Report

I want to share another thought from Brother David Steindl-Rast's Gratefulness; the Heart of Prayer. The book helps us to see something of the way in which God takes things beyond our understanding In this particular passage he mixes two metaphors, food and the weather, and uses them to helpfully indicate the importance and value of recognising that different ways of doing things each have something vital to contribute.

Steindl-Rast writes: 
p. 110/1 – “The banquet of life is the challenge to cultivate and broaden our taste. Every one of us begins with a provincial taste. Life challenges us to acquire a cosmopolitan, a truly catholic taste. In this learning process, some of us falter at the simplest exercises. Think, for instance, of the weather. With every change of weather a new adventure awaits us; each new season has its own recipes for dishing up new surprises. And we? ……  to give ourselves to the sea breeze on a spring day is one thing; to step out into the mist and fog of a winter morning with the same sense of adventure demands more courage. Yet, if we draw back, how can we ever taste the unique flavour that only fog can convey to our heart, as it hides and reveals, conceals and shows again trees with dripping twigs and people in raincoats with dripping noses. How much of life is lost on us unless we can enjoy every kind of weather in its own way? How can we expect to find life in fullness unless we learn to live “by every word that comes from the mouth of God”?”

We need to experience and value the greatness of God - stepping out into the sunshine and the fog, in other words, whatever the weather.

God's Message Hits The Spot

I have been reading Brother David Steindl-Rast's Gratefulness: The Heart of Prayer and was particularly struck  by a passage in which he explores how God speaks to us in different, but relevant, ways. Just as we think we have got things pinned down, God comes from another angle, challenging, encouraging, inspiring, whatever it is that we need.

Steindl-Rast writes: 

"p. 108/9 – “God’s faithfulness needs to be spelled out in ever new forms forever and ever. Everything there is in the whole universe exists for no other reason than to get this message across. In faith the heart intuits this secret. God’s message is always the same. But the way the message is expressed makes all the difference. You may perceive the message in an apple orchard in full bloom. But the same message is also there in a forest fire. The difference would be bewildering, but to discover the same message in different disguises turns it all into a delightful game, a spelling game. That horse frolicking in the meadow is one way to spelling out God’s Word; the cat asleep in my lap is another. Each is unique, untranslatable. Poems can’t be translated; they can at best be approximated in a different language. In a poem the language counts as much as the message. God is the poet. If we want to know what God says in a tomato, we must look at a tomato, feel it, smell it, bite into it, have the juice and seeds squirt all over us when it pops. We must savour it and learn this tomato poem “by heart.” But what God must say can’t be exhausted in tomato language. So, God gives us lemons and speaks in Lemonese. Living by the Word means learning God’s languages, one by one, a lifetime long.”

It is not that God gives different messages - but it is that God gives relevant messages.

An Easter Reflection

Mark 16, verse 8 – So they went out and ran from the tomb, distressed and terrified.They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid. It is widely believed by scholars that this is how Mark’s Gospel originally ended, and that what follows is a later addition.

That describes an interesting response to Easter – and one that is somewhat different from how we expect to be marking this momentous point in our faith history. What are we about if we are not about Easter? Easter is the high-point. Easter provides our driving-force. Easter is to be celebrated – in a big way! But Mark tells us that those who first encountered Easter were distressed and terrified, saying nothing to anyone.

In a sense, this is not what we expect – but, on the other, we can very clearly see it as an entirely understandable reaction. Can you even begin to imagine what it would have felt like to be there with those women? You have gone, somewhat apprehensively, to pay your last respects. You have taken spices, a last demonstration of your love. However, you have wondered if it was all going to be pointless. How on earth would you get access to the tomb? Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb? You have wondered what you were doing, and yet somehow felt compelled to go. If the stone prevented you from doing all that you wished, at least you will have tried. So, anxiously, nervously, you make your way to the site of the tomb. And, when you get there, indeed it does prove to have been pointless to bring spices to anoint a body. But that is nothing to do with not being able to access the tomb. Instead, and this must have been so beyond what they were expecting, they see a young man, an angel, who tells them: Don’t be alarmed. I know you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is not here – he has been raised.

How would you have reacted? What would you have done with this information? It is so different looking back, once again, to a story that we know so well from how it must have been to actually be there receiving this unexpected news. No wonder they were distressed and terrified. No wonder they kept quiet.

It is worth remembering that Mark tells us about two other occasions when the disciples were terrified and silent in response to what Jesus had done. In Mark 4 we have the account of how Jesus calmed a storm. How did the disciples respond? With exultant joy? No! But they were terribly afraid and said to one another, “Who is this man? Even the wind and the waves obey him!” And there is a similar response to the incredible scene which we now normally call the transfiguration. The three disciples, Peter, James and John, have seen this amazing vision of Jesus alongside Moses and Elijah. How did they respond? Peter and the others were so frightened that he did not know what to say.

It is interesting that, throughout the Bible, the initial response of human beings who have caught a glimpse of the wonder and glory of God is one of a bit of wonder, yes, but strongly tinged with fear and confusion. The same could be said, for instance, of Moses’ encounter with God through the burning bush and Isaiah’s temple vision.

But, if we are a little disappointed in such responses, it may be that that is exactly what is wanted from us. Because it is surely when we see, no matter how much we understand it, how they reacted, and perhaps think that they should have responded differently, that we begin to realise that the call to discipleship, our call to discipleship, is serious and engages us deeply. Because the question of the moment in all of these situations is essentially – will you continue to follow Jesus? And, today, Easter, and every Easter but, more than that, every day, we are faced with the same question – will you, will I, continue to follow the Jesus?  Putting it differently, will we walk the way?

Brief address given at the early service on Easter Day 2018 at Grays United Reformed Church

Keeping the Feast

I AM that I am. Tell them that I AM has sent you to them. – Jesus said to the servants, ‘Fill the jars with water.’’ And they filled them to the brim. With those two thoughts in the background, I want to reflect briefly on the matter of our encountering God, and all that does.

Recently I read a book entitled “Keeping The Feast” by Milton Brasher-Cunningham. Brasher-Cunningham was a cook and each chapter is based on a particular meal, followed by a recipe, and then a poem. I want to cite three comments in the book that particularly struck me and which I think have to something interesting to say on the theme of ‘keeping the feast’.

The first of these is this: “Communion is a meal on the go.  Whenever we share the meal, we do so in transition.  We need the time together to look at one another’s lives, to describe the ripples we see, and to remind one another that change is as basic to our diet as love itself. I believe that we are a travelling people, a journeying people, a pilgrim people – use whichever word you prefer. We are indeed in transition. One of our watchwords as a reformed church is ‘semper reformanda’ or, as Brasher-Cunningham puts it, change is as basic to our diet as love itself. I think that is really challenging. These days, I find that a lot of what I am doing is managing change, and that is probably true for most in ministry. And it’s difficult. No matter how loudly people say they are up for it, often they are not, or certainly only on their terms.

There are many parallels we can draw with the Israelite people in the wilderness, the place they were about to enter under the leadership of Moses, following his call from God to lead the people to a new phase. And all the jokes about changing lightbulbs spring to mind. But let’s put them aside and, with God’s help, continue on the journey to which we are called.

My second comment from Brasher-Cunningham is this: “It’s a stretch to think of the words wastefully and prodigal as descriptive of God, but then again look at the extravagance of a sunset or an iris or a bluebird. Whether as individuals or institutions, we are pointed towards self-preservation, yet we belong to a God who is not a save-it-for-a-rainy-day kind of God. Brasher-Cunningham goes on to refer to the story of the one whom we usually call the ‘rich young ruler’ and how, when he came to Jesus, he was asked to give away everything – but he simply could not face being such a spendthrift. Here is a clear and important reminder that God turns things upside down. What do we do with what we have and are? And what do we do when the world around us would say that we are wasting stuff, time, resource, whatever – but that’s what God seems to be telling us to do. Putting it another way, how do we respond to the need, and the call, to be counter-cultural?

Brasher-Cunningham’s third comment particularly reflects the way in which we most often celebrate Communion. I like to have a hunk of a bread and a chalice brimming with wine – but I have usually got bread cut into tiny cubes and tiny glasses of wine. By the way, despite my preferences, it doesn’t actually matter what are the elements we are using. I happily used coke and biscuits one time in a remote area of Panama. What matters is what we are doing. 

However, though I would want to state that very strongly, I also take Brasher-Cunningham’s point when he writes: “I wish we came to the altar expecting to eat more than a small hint of bread. What if we came around for seconds; we have plenty, come and eat again. Drink one. Drink two or three or seven. There’s enough to go around and then some, because we belong to God.

There is, of course, a concept of enough – and that is also we need. But we need to juxtapose that with a concept of abundance – because that is what God is like. You spread a table for me in the presence of my enemies; you have richly anointed my head with oil, and my cup brims over. My cups brims over. It’s those stone jars at Cana, filled to the brim, and filled with the best quality wine. Our God is generous, sharing abundantly with us.  He is the bread of life.  He offers the living water.  His hospitality, and welcome, and abundance is amazing.  That’s grace, God’s grace, there for us.

Address given at the Eastern Synod of the URC Ministers’ Gathering at Launde Abbey, September 2017 – with minor adaptions.

Struggling in Spirituality

I have been enjoying reading Andrew Mayes’ Spirituality of Struggle. In this book Mayes explores something of the struggles that we all have in various aspects of life. He usefully reminds us that life is like that, and that struggles cannot be avoided, but can be addressed constructively. With the help of a bunch of Biblical character – Jacob, Ruth, Elijah, Jeremiah, Job, Mary (Jesus’ mother), Martha, Peter and Paul – he explores something of the challenges that we may face.

There are many lessons to be learned.  For example, reflecting on Jacob, he comments: "Jacob could have viewed the Jabbok in more negative terms.  It could have become for him a barrier - a place to halt and go no further.  But he realizes that the river, though a place of potential danger, is essentially a ford, a crossing-over place, a way to get from one territory to another.  It represents for us a place of transition, where God calls us courageously to face new possibilities.  Encounter with God can be a risky business.  But it can also enable us in our life to cross boundaries - by letting go of the past, we can embrace a new future." Here is a useful reminder that a lot depends on how we look at things.

Another pointer that I found helpful was to Jeremiah as Mayes says something about how he struggled with the ministry to which he was called. "We can identify with Jeremiah because we sometimes share with him the experience of disillusionment. God seems distant, prayers seem to go unanswered, comfort is elusive. It appears God is locked up in a faraway heaven. And like Jeremiah, we sometimes feel trapped and caught up into a situation from which there seems no escape. Perhaps we feel, like him, that the odds are stacked against us. Jeremiah's experience offers us hints for a spirituality of struggle - a way of praying through our times of anguish." Here is some real encouragement for those very difficult times.

The other reflection that I found particularly striking was Mayes’ consideration of Peter, as he comments on Jesus’ choice of ordinary people, but for a very special role. "Peter is astounded and awe-struck at the gracious action of Jesus.  He really did not know how to respond, because it all seemed too good to be true.  But Jesus has something more for him, indeed, a new vocation: 'henceforth you will be catching men' (Lk 5.10). Jesus is redirecting his life into a new purpose: bringing others into the Kingdom. With some courage, Peter follows Jesus into the future. The adventure to which Jesus calls Simon Peter is a journey into the experience of unconditional love - love with no 'its' or 'buts', with no preconditions.  This is celebrated in the scriptures by the concept of 'grace'' - favour freely shown and unmerited."

There is certainly a lot that I found of value in these reflections on the spirituality of struggling – but perhaps the most significant thing was contained in the reflections on Peter and the way in which Mayes stressed the value of accepting wha God offers. "To be able to receive is a great grace for it calls us to acknowledge our need, to face up to the reality that we will be incomplete without the gift that is offered."

Looking back to Moving Mountains

Thursby Methodist Church

About to start the walk

Salt Dough Figures - Feeding of 5000

It was great to be part of 'Moving Mountains', the Cumbria Mission 2018, about three weeks ago, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday (8-11 March) - when 33 teams (Church of England, Methodist, Salvation Army, United Reformed Church) were allocated to different mission partnership around Cumbria. We started off with a big launch event at Penrith's Cattle Market, an interesting venue for a service of worship, and then dispersed to different communities around Cumbria.

Together with four others from the Synod, and a retired bishop, I spent four days in a very rural 'patch' close to Carlisle, meeting and supporting the local churches, as they sought to engage with their communities in all sorts of ways. 

St John's Newton Arlosh

One of our points of focus was on the 'feeding of the five thousand' - and so many salt dough figures were made as those who encountered the story were encouraged to consider what it might mean for them.

The team - Mark, Paul, Robert, +David,
Nicola, Machrina

Activities for us included morning prayer, a games night, a quiz night, a community lunch, with a couple of dramatic sketches with a meaning, a film evening, a (six and a half mile!) walk and - for me - preaching at St. John's, Newton Arlosh. It was indeed good to join 33 other senior church leaders, including Archbishop John Sentamu, and their teams, convinced that God can indeed move mountains!