Reiterating the Old

We live, we are told by some, in a postmodern world, where experience counts more than truth.  We live, the media tell us, in a corrupt world where politicians and bankers feather their own nests at the expense of the rest of us. We live in a world, it seems to many of us, that is falling apart at the seams.

Yet in all this nothing changes!   Many years ago when opportunities opened up for me to travel the globe and teach, in my weakness I cried, “Lord, what can I possibly say to people on the other side of the world, who have cultures so utterly different from my own?”  His reply was that their needs were exactly the same as those of the people around me in my own church and my own community.  And so it proved to be. As I travelled and spoke I found people with exactly the same needs, and it didn’t matter what colour skin they had or what sort of culture they came from.  They all needed to know that their sin was forgiven and that God loved them!

Nothing changes. The corrupt or self-serving politicians merely tell us what the Gospel has declared for two thousand years: we are all sinners and  when God lifts off His hand of restraint from our society, we are free to do outwardly what inwardly we have been thinking all along – and it’s not good!

I feel sorry for humanists and atheists who so often proclaim their optimism in man’s goodness, for life must be a real trial for them as every time they open their paper they see man’s badness being proclaimed. More money, more education, more technology, more of this or that, they proclaim – then man’s goodness will be revealed. The facts deny that.

How the Gospel of God is justified, day in, day out. Yes, we have great potential for goodness, but we squander it on self-centredness and self-serving.  We grab for ourselves and make the most of the moment – and then justify it, in our own minds at least, and we remain deceived.

Yet again and again, I see sinful men and women come to the end of themsevles and encounter the living God through His Son, Jesus Christ, and I see lives transformed for good. That is the Gospel at work, and it never changes, it is always the same – forgiveness and restoration and new life are always there for the taking. It is the only hope we have for the future. If we let the blind optimists lead us, we’ll continue to go down and down into a world of darkness and despair. Nothing changes! When we tuirn to God through His Son, Jesus Christ, then suddenly light and life pour forth and hope becomes real. Nothing changes – except when we come to God.

Easter Sunday

She followed the crowd. Why are they shouting like this? He hasn’t done anything! Well, no, that’s not true. He’s done so much. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.

The doctors had been no help; they hadn’t known what was wrong. I knew behind their whispers that people said I must have done something wrong, but it wasn’t like that. I didn’t know if I had done anything. All I knew was that I was ill and that they said I was dying. Then he came to my town.

My mother had helped me out to see what all the noise was about. We’d heard rumours. Then there he was with a big crowd around him, walking down the street. The crowd was noisy. We held back in the doorway and watched, but as they came level with our home, he stopped and turned towards us. He obviously said something to those with him, for they stood aside as he came across to us.

There was nothing special in what he did, and yet everything. He just smiled at us and said, “Hullo.” I found myself just gaping at him with tears running down my face; I don’t know why. Somehow… somehow, it was as if he knew, knew all about me, and still loved me…. He reached out and gently placed his hand on my head and almost whispered, “Be healed.” And then he was gone and we both stood there weeping and I was well. Yes, I know it sounds too simple, but I was. I was completely well. I can’t explain it, but I’m alive and well – because of him. So why are they treating him like this?

The soldiers are so brutal. They’re making him carry a large wooden cross. Why? Surely they can’t be……. They push at him and snarl at him. He falls. Oh why? They drag a man unwillingly from the crowd to carry the cross. They pick Jesus up and I see his face. There is blood all over it. There’s a crown made with long thorns that’s been pushed on his head, now askew, but the wounds from the thorns mean the blood runs down over his face. He can hardly stand, and then I see his back, or rather what is left of it. I am sick in the street. The crowd moves on and I stand there in shock. Why are they doing this to him? What has he done to deserve this? I remember the look as he stood before me. Here was utter goodness; it was that which broke my heart then – and now.

The crowd has gone. I am alone in the street. I must go. I must follow him. I must see where they are taking him. I follow the sounds down the street. Where is this all going, on this Friday?

I took a wrong turning. I found myself alone in the back streets of Jerusalem. Here there was silence. But then across the city came two stretched-out screams, just two. I eventually found my way to one of the gates of the city and there across the valley I saw three crosses being erected, three horrible symbols of man’s inhumanity to man. Even from this distance I could see he was one of the men being crucified. Why? What had he done except be good! I slumped down against the city wall and watched. The hours passed and eventually I saw them take the bodies away. It is over. I am past weeping. I am angry, no I am furious! Why? Why did they have to do this to him?

Two days later, when I woke on Sunday morning, something was different. No one else in the place where I was staying was awake yet, and so I quietly made my way outside. Something had happened! What was it? I still had that awful ache inside, but something was different.

I wandered down the street. There was hardly anyone else around. A woman scuttled by laughing and crying, but I hardly noticed. I came to one of the city gates and looked out over the graveyard area. I heard a sound of panting and two men dashed past me. Now it was my turn to be hardly noticed. I watched as they ran down through the olive groves to the grave areas. What a terrible place this is. Death hangs over it condemning all of us.

“I’m not there,” a gentle voice came from behind me. I started and turned and gasped. Again I found myself just gaping at him with tears running down my face. It was him. No, it can’t be. “It is,” he said reading my thoughts. “But why,” I sobbed, “why did it happen… and how are you alive?” Words were meaningless. I just sobbed.

“It’s all right,” he gently replied, “it will all become clear. The most important thing is that I’m here, so you can go home now and live and tell your family and friends what you have seen.”

“But they won’t believe me,” I sobbed.

“Not at first, but many will eventually. You’ll never be the same again now you know I’m alive. Go now.”

“But when will I see you again?” I managed.

He smiled, “When you come home.” Then he was gone, and I was never alone again.

Saturday

Today has been a day of silence. It is as if the city has sunk in its shame. It is the Sabbath, the day of rest, but we aren’t resting. We are in anguish and turmoil. I sat listening to some of the others earlier, silent for most of the time but every now and then breaking out in self-justification, all that is except Peter and Judas.  Judas, of course, is dead. There were one or two, “How could he?” comments but mostly we all feel so bad about ourselves that none of us feels like pointing a finger. Peter has just disappeared. I think the guilt of his actually denying the Master has almost destroyed him, but I want to say to him that we’re all the same. In one way or another, we all denied the Master.

It may be that it’s because it is the Sabbath, but the city seems strangely quiet. When we’ve looked out, there seem few people around even though there are hundreds of thousand here for the Feast. I think the events of the past week have been so contrasting that there is a feeling of anticlimax. A week ago Jesus was being welcomed into the city like a conquering king. A week later the king is dead. A week ago our hopes and dreams of freedom from the Romans carried us away. Today those hopes and dreams are dead.

Our women sit around red-eyed and every now and then further sounds of sobs are heard. The men are mostly silent, just sitting there, too afraid to go out, but too fearful to look at each other. A week ago anything was possible; now nothing is possible. There is no future. What will we all do? Who cares!

We sit there and unsuccessfully try not to let the images of the past two days run again and again through our minds. I keep hearing the baying of the crowd madly egged on by the fanatical hatred of the so-called religious authorities. I hear the screams of the thieves as they are nailed to wood. I see the silence of my Master as they set his body in the most terrible of execution processes that mankind has ever devised. His silence was awful. From his lips had come such wonderful words of wisdom and of life over these past three years, but now they are silent. He was like a lamb being led to the slaughter. I hear the jeering of the crowds that had turned against him, and I remember my own silence, and I weep.

Somewhere out there in the grave area outside Jerusalem, in a new tomb is a cold, lifeless body of one who had been so warm and so full of life that it overflowed to all those who came to him. But now the life has gone. Now there is no hope. We are a condemned human race! What awful things will God do to us for this two day’s work? Yes, I know, most of the world hasn’t a clue what has happened but if they had been here, they’d have been the same; we’re all the same. We may like to kid ourselves that we are better than the next person, but these two days have laid that lie to rest. Instead of receiving this light and rejoicing in the wonder of the days that we were privileged to be part of, we snuffed out the light. We prefer darkness to light for the light shows us up for who we really are. On this awful Saturday we sit in silence and try not to think – but we do.

Good Friday

There are four more dead bodies in Jerusalem tonight.
It has been a most terrible of days. I really don’t want to write this, and yet something in me insists I confess it and record it. The world has changed. It will never be the same again. We have failed him and it has all gone wrong.

There is one side of me that wishes I had never met him; these past three years have been too wonderful. If I told you some of the things we’ve witnessed Jesus doing, you wouldn’t believe me. I can understand that. When we first started travelling with him, for the first week my mind was struggling with what we were seeing. My eyes saw it but my mind screamed, “This can’t be happening!” When a blind man sees, that is wonderful. When a cripple walks, that is amazing, but when you stand next to a leper with his revolting skin and before your eyes you see the skin changing and becoming perfect again, I tell you, at that point you are struggling. And it was three years like that!

It was also three years in a classroom of life. Day in, day out, we were being challenged as to who we were, about God, about life, with the Master preaching powerfully to the crowds and then quietly explaining to us. It was amazing. I can’t even remember what I used to be like. We are different people today because of him.

But then we came to Jerusalem for the Passover. We’d been before but this time it was different. It seemed like the Master was completely unafraid of the religious authorities and taught and healed right on their doorstep outside the Temple. It did seem provocative, but when you’ve been with a man for three years who is so totally in control of life itself, you don’t care. But we should have cared.

We’ve hardly slept these past forty eight hours. Last night was terrible, but not so bad as today. We’d had the Passover meal and the Master had suggested that we go over to Gethsemane to pray together. It was while we were there that a band of soldiers, led by Judas of all people, came and arrested him. We couldn’t believe it. Peter lashed out but the Master stopped him and gave himself to the soldiers. Yes, I think that is the right way to describe what happened – he gave himself to them. If he hadn’t wanted to go, I’m sure he needn’t have gone.

They took him to Caiaphas’ palace and some of us hung around in the shadows outside waiting for his release. Surely he wouldn’t let them hold him. The hours passed and eventually at daylight an armed procession came out and headed for Pilate’s residence. We followed at a distance. There was much arguing with Pilate but eventually he gave way to their demands. They were going to crucify him! They wanted him executed and that weak minded, half witted governor just washed his hands of the whole thing and said go and do it. So the soldiers took him and thrashed him. By the time they finished with him he could hardly stand. Then they took him outside the city to where there execute criminals and alongside two criminals they nailed him to a cross.

I’m sorry, I’m so sickened by it that I can’t describe it to you – perhaps later. He hung there for hours between the two thieves, in agony with life ebbing away. Then eventually, about the middle of the afternoon, it was like he had had enough and cried out, “It is finished!” and then he just hung there – he had gone. He was dead. Like everything else, it seemed like he was in total control. Then they took down the bodies – three dead bodies. I said four? Yes, that’s right; we’ve just heard that Judas has killed himself. He obviously couldn’t live with the awfulness of what he had done, betraying the master into their hands last night.

I’m sorry if I’m sounding somewhat hard and cold as I’m telling you all this but I think I’m probably in a state of shock; we all are. It’s crazy! It’s stark, staring mad! If you’d seen and heard what we’ve seen and heard for these last three years, you would know that this was the most wonderful person who has ever walked on this earth! He was utterly good! There is no way that he deserved to die; this was a complete travesty of justice – and we just let it happen! There’s a part of me that wants to follow Judas’ example. The religious authorities demanded it, our civic leaders went along with it, the crowd cried for it and the Romans did it – and we did nothing! There’s not an innocent person in this city tonight.

Tonight we are condemned. We followed him, our lives were transformed by him, many of us were healed by him, and we experienced life as never before. Yet the authorities were challenged by him and afraid of him and so arrested him, tried him, mocked him, scourged him, crucified him and killed him – and we did nothing! At no point did we intervene. We were too scared for our own lives, and the light that shone has gone out. What was odd, was that he didn’t intervene and stop it at any point, for I’m sure he could have done! It is indeed a dark night; it was a dark day. I’m sorry, I can’t say anything more.

Maundy Thursday

Why do I feel that something awful is about to happen?

We have come into the city every day this week and the Master has taught in the area around the Temple, and that’s been great. Its great, white stone walls towered over us, a building built by a tyrant to glorify himself, taken over by the religious establishment to glorify Judaism, despite the rule of Rome. It is truly an amazing building and the Master has been continuing to do amazing things.

And yet it has been an uneasy week. When we arrived last Sunday the Master made straight for the Temple and we thought he would bring an offering but instead he managed to upset the Chief Priest and his men by overturning all the tables and releasing all the animals that are part of the Temple provision for the sacrifices. There was total pandemonium on that day and his anger was unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. It was probably only that which cowed the authorities and allowed him to get away with it, that and his popularity with the crowds.

That’s been the strange thing about this week; he has been becoming more and more popular with the crowds and more and more hated by the religious establishment here in the city. As he has taught and as he has healed people, the crowds have gathered and listened and cheered and then gone away and gossiped. The word on the street has been that he is getting ready to stage a coup to overthrow the Romans, but he hasn’t told us, and why he didn’t do it on Sunday when the crowds welcomed him like a conquering king, I don’t know. I’m told that the priests hate him because he is so unconventional and they fear he will upset the Romans who let them get on administering the ceremonial aspects of our law here in the home of our people. The Romans may be here, but it is still our home and the traditions of the centuries are still worked out here.

Of course we’re all here for the Passover and that in itself worries the authorities. Why? Because it is the remembrance of how our people were originally set free from slavery, about how God set us free from the oppressor in Egypt. Every year the Romans get very edgy, wondering if, as we celebrate the Passover, some zealot will stir the people to rise up against them and claim our freedom again. Perhaps it will be the Master who will do that but, as I said, he hasn’t said anything about that to us, and no one has had the courage to ask him about it.

The religious authorities do all they can to make it a formal, solemn feast, to keep control and prevent anyone stepping out of line to threaten their religious presence. I think that is it really; they are using religion to subdue the people and reassure the Romans, so that nothing threatens the ongoing working of the Temple. It is there, it was said of old, that God would come to meet with us, although His glory has never been seen in this building built by Herod. Indeed it’s been hundreds of years since He spoke prophetically to us – that is until John came and, of course, then the Master appeared three years ago.

But I can’t shake it off, this feeling of doom.  We all met this evening to share the Passover meal together – which was great – but the Master kept saying things that were not clear. I mean, I know his teaching is often enigmatic, leaving us puzzling over just what he meant, but it seemed that tonight he was doing it more than ever. I don’t know why but we’d hardly settled down when he took a towel and bowl of water and insisted on washing our feet. It seemed an odd way to start a celebration. And then when we sat down to eat he took the bread, prayed and broke it and said, “This is my body.”  His body? How can the bread be his body? His body was there in front of us, talking to us. And then when the wine came round again, he said, “This is my blood poured out for you.” I may be appearing a bit dim, but I’m sure I wasn’t the only one around the table wondering what he was on about.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he seemed to go into depressing mode and started talking about one of us betraying him. Why? Why ever would we want to do that, and how? What was that about? Peter put his big feet in it and declared he would never let the Master down, but the Master only looked at him sadly, and very quietly said that Peter would deny him three times before next morning came. Peter was devastated, I can tell you. The Master went on to teach for a long time and I just felt there was an unusual urgency behind everything he was saying. I don’t know what it was. It just seemed like he felt he had to pour out a whole load of stuff he felt we needed to know, but I really don’t know why we should need it now.

Yes, I know I said I’ve got this feeling of doom hanging over us this evening, but it’s crazy really because the Master is more popular today than he’s ever been. There are many saying they believe he is the coming Messiah and the vast majority of the crowds here for the feast are just waiting for him to proclaim himself. We’re on the edge of something wonderful, so I really don’t know why I’m feeling like I am.  I mean we could be on the edge of a tremendous revolution and the world may never be the same after this weekend – if the Master makes his move. Everything he does thrills the crowds. We’re just ripe to take on the Romans. They may be armed but we outnumber them fifty to one. They haven’t got a hope. When our people rise up there’s no stopping them, so it looks like there could be a whole new day coming.

We’re just clearing up at the moment. The Master says he wants us to go across to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray, but something’s not right. I can’t put my finger on it, but something feels bad. But that’s crazy because the Master is in control; he always is. He won’t let anything bad happen, I know that. I’ve watched him these past three years, and he always knows what is going on. It’s just that… well, I don’t know…. there’s something…..

The Fear of Christianity

The Fear of Christianity
or “A Strange Case of Bias”

Over the last couple of years, as I think I’ve probably commented here before, I’ve found myself pondering the gradual revelation of God, provoked on by various notorious atheists who I have to thank for stirring up my apathy. I guess there are probably quite a lot of Christians whose faith is sharper today courtesy of such names as Dawkins and Hitchens. What these unhappy guys don’t realise is that there is so much evidence for those who have eyes to see, that it only needs Christians to be stirred up for them to revisit their foundations and be strengthened afresh. I think heaven must be falling around laughing at the present time, over Dawkin’s campaign that has put large posters about God on London buses. Whereas he intends them to be negative, he’s obviously never heard the advertising mantra that ‘all publicity is good publicity’.  How many Londoners are being woken out of their apathy by thoughts of God every time they see the Dawkins’ posters. Nice one Richard.

Back to my subject, though. If I were a visitor to this planet and I studied the human race, and heard talk about Christianity, even if I knew nothing about it, my interest would be instantly raised, wondering why it produces such hostility.  In the West all the other world religions are just tolerated but there is an all-out war against Christianity. If for no other reason, this would stir my interest.

So, I suspect I would enquire about the origins of this faith and find out that it is based on thousands and thousands of ancient documents that testify to the existence on this planet two thousand years ago of a man going by the name of Jesus, the Christ.  But then I would have my eyes taken back to the skeptics again and I would be left wondering why it is that historians and others are quite happy to accept the quite often minimalistic evidence from the past of other so-called historical figures and yet deny avidly the volumes of historical evidence pointing to Jesus Christ. What is it that makes such people so biased against the obvious evidence, so that their very integrity appears in question.

Perhaps I might examine the lives of the followers of this Jesus over the past two thousand years and after I have ruled out those who were followers in name only and not followers according to the criteria in the Book, and then compare these followers with followers of other faiths and of none, and I might wonder why their goodness is so hated by those others. What is it that raises such hostility that rejects the evidence of the historical documents and of the changed lives?  Finally I might start looking at the lives of those who are so hostile and understand – they are afraid. They are afraid of the light that shows them up. Oh my goodness, they have accepted a lie and dare not consider the truth with an open mind!  They are found wanting, and the liar has obviously told them that there is no hope for them – which, of course, is the exact opposite of the truth that this Christianity reveals.

We don’t learn

I have in these blogs in the past confessed that one of my favourite quotes is “the one thing that history teaches us is that history teaches us nothing.” I have been reminded of this because of a certain project I have undertaken. I have read the Bible from end to end (and indeed written verse-by-verse Bible studies on the majority of it) but I have never read it all out loud. Thus several months ago I started a project to read the whole of the Bible out loud. I am, at this time of this writing, as far as the book of Judges, a book which perhaps shows the folly of mankind more than any other book in the Bible. The project as a whole though, has been very rewarding. I have seen some things more clearly than I ever have done before and I think they are worth recording.

First of all, is the gradual revealing of God.  He is revealed in history. This is not the place to go into why we can trust the veracity of these writings but it is the place to challenge our approach. I recently encountered yet another foolish theologian who works on the principle, that miracles can’t happen so all the so-called miracles of the Bible are make-believe. Now I don’t know if you realise it but that is an incredibly unscientific approach. It says, I may look at the evidence but I have made up my mind about any possible outcome before I start researching.  That lack both scientific and intellectual integrity and what is amazing is that anyone listens to theologians who work in that way.

Surely the right approach is to examine the evidence of the existence of the documents that make up the Bible, and then what they say and THEN draw conclusions. Where are open minded intellectuals who will ask, “Why can we believe the Bible?” and then go seriously investigating it?  As I have read out loud the first seven books of the Bible – and knowing where it goes – I wonder at the folly of people who just write it all off. Where are serious minded people who will ask, “What sort of God is shown in the Bible?” and will then carry out an open-minded investigation. Ignorant prejudice seems to rule the day!

In Britain at least we live in a society where the vast majority have written off God.  A recent TV programme even asked why people are ashamed to talk about God today. What is horrifying is that the vast majority of the unbelieving population have no reason to not believe other than someone else has told them not to believe. They may not have been told using specific words like “Don’t believe” but sufficient unthinking, ignorant sceptics have appeared on TV that the message has got across and unthinking people just accept it. The vast majority in our society have no real idea what is in the Bible – and appear to have no concern to find out. They will read lots of novels of increasing thickness, they may go to classes to learn languages, they may take degrees on almost anything – except on the incredible book that sits on so many shelves as a reminder of a bygone age, unread. But then so many of those relics of the past are in  language of the past so it is no wonder that even an interested individual is put off. But the Bible can be found in modern language in any bookshop today.

One of the questions that anyone seriously reading the Bible must ask is, “Why should anyone go to the bother of producing all these books, if there isn’t at least an element of truth here?” Back comes the defensive answer, “Because they were superstitious and believed this superstitious nonsense.” Whoops! Showing your presuppositional unscientific  prejudices again! or to put it in more simple language, you show you’ve made up your mind before checking  it all out.

One of the things that has hit me reading out loud these early books, apparently recording God’s dealings with the embryonic state of Israel, is that the ‘Law of Moses’ is simply God’s design pattern for how people can live in harmony with themselves, with others and with the earth. There are odds and ends that are unclear but the vast majority of it (which the sceptics prefer to ignore) is simply how to live well – and it’s very simple to understand. When I compare that with how we live today, I see that modern society tends to ignore all of God’s guidance and is suffering every sort of ill possible.

The book of Judges, which is where I am reading at the moment, is frightening in its clarity (and somewhat depressing because of it). Again and again the new nation of Israel forgot God and ignored His guidelines and got into a mess. When they did they cried out to God, and He sent someone to get them back on the rails and as soon as they were,  peace and blessing followed. It’s as simple and frightening as that. Of course, when you examine these books you see they are pure history and as history they record how things worked or didn’t work. Think about it. Even if 10% of the book was wrong or made up by men (and I’m not saying it was) that wouldn’t in any way at all affect the message that the other 90% conveys, because the message is consistent throughout the whole book. It’s a message about the presence of God, the nature of God and the nature of mankind, and the proof of its teaching has been revealed countless times in subsequent history. Tragically as a society we are behaving like lemmings and ignore our plight and leap to destruction.  Where are the wise who will come without prejudice and learn from the past?

Too many words

I have been wondering for a number of weeks now, whether to ever write again. I write daily Bible meditations and will continue to do so, but general writing is under question. Blogging is a strange phenomenon and any thinking blogger must at some time reflect on why they write.

My favourite regular commentator was Alistair Cooke and his weekly Letters from America were often insights into history. I particularly remember a piece he wrote on how modern media allowed the fighting in Vietnam to be seen back home within hours, and the effect that had on public opinion. We have advanced in media technology so much since then that it’s a completely different ball game with TV camera crews right on the battle front and us being able to see it at exactly the moment it is happening. Then there are the mobile phones (cell phones) that act as cameras and also have the ability to send the photo immediately to the web so that news appears instantly recorded around the world.

If you look at the stats that accompany WordPress you see the incredible number of us each day who bother to put their thoughts into words. Some are followed by large audiences, but most of us get just a minimal reading. So why do we write? Because we can! But the ease of it, I find, raises issues. How easy is it to launch off on whatever hobby horse we may have. The blog enables us to potentially shout to the world our concerns and, in the case of a site like this, the concerns for truth and the Christian faith.

But truth is an ellusive thing. Several weeks ago two things happened in the news that struck me were particularly good examples of hypocrisy, and our societies are littered with it. As a Christian I went to comment upon it, but as I did I was struck by the shallowness of what I was about to say. To avoid the accusation of shallowness, it was necessary to write reams, covering all different aspects of the two news pieces. After writing for a while I abandoned the project.

A number of times in recent months I how read other blogs about contentious issues. Sometimes there have already been so many comments that it hardly seems worth adding more words that will soon get swept away by even more. But then there was the frustration of the shallowness of thinking that accompanied the original blog (and often many of the comments) and how futile, after a little thought the argument had been.

The writer of the Proverbs in the Bible wrote, “When words are many, sin is not absent,but he who holds his tongue is wise.” (Prov 10:19) He was simply saying that when we speak many words, it gives us greater chance of getting it wrong so sometimes it’s best to say little. He also wrote, “A man of knowledge uses words with restraint.” (Prov 17:27)  The conclusion might be that many of us on the Internet have little knowledge.

Again, a couple of months ago, WordPress highlighted a particular block that excited a lot of comment and, again, I wondered about the truth of what was being said, both by the original writer and the many comment writers. I sat down to write a reason response but after three A4 pages I gave up. Who would bother to read that length of writing. I am aware that when I write Bible meditations, if they are really to say anything, then they need to be a reasonable length and there are very few who are likely to bother with such reading. Indeed I have to confess that I have subscribed to a number of ‘devotional’ daily readings over the months, but after a few days cancelling each of them because of the shallowness of what is being poured out.

The following is a quote I encountered recently: “Reading, and reading proficiency, are declining dramatically in the United States, notes a 2007 study by the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) that covered “all kinds of reading,” including reading done online. The decline was especially pronounced among older teens and young adults, and as of 2005, scarcely more than a third of high school seniors read at or above the pro­ficient level.”

Does the Internet, I wonder, promote that, encourage that or simply reflect that?  I seem to remember from my biology classes at school (a long time ago) there is an insect that scoots across the surface of the water in ponds, hardly touching the surface. Sadly, it seems to me, the Internet seems to breed or attract, many of these creatures, or does it just turn every one of us into such a creature by the very nature of its existence?

A Baby?

A Robin sat, perched on a branch overseeing the garden, a blackbird scuffed among the leaves and two pigeons sat on a nearby aerial, cooing at each other. It’s almost Christmas Day and they haven’t a clue! On Christmas Day they’ll still be here in the garden completely unaware that we humans – well a few of us anyway – are celebrating the most incredible event in human history.

But then I wonder if we are better than they? Do we really comprehend the wonder of the birth of this baby some two thousand years ago?  Do we really understand what it means that this was God in human form? If He had appeared in some massive ghostly cloud,  hundreds of miles high, it might have scared the life out of us, but at least we’d have had an idea of what it was all about – an incredibly powerful God making Himself known.

But instead what did He do? Came as a baby! A baby! How can a baby possibly be God? How can a baby represent the all-powerful, all knowing, all-wise, ever present God that the Bible speaks about?  Perhaps if we think of Him for a moment as light, perhaps we might grasp 1% of what was happening. In the coming of the baby all we have is a pin-prick of light in the darkness, hardly recognisable. By the time he is grown and out and about in the countryside, speaking, teaching, healing and transforming people, it is like a pencil light shining into the darkness. One day, when we get to heaven, it will be like bright day and He is the source of all that brightness.  But now it’s a baby and how can a pin-prick of light impact and transform the world?

The baby won’t but what he is will, when he is really seen for who he is. But for now, it leaves questions for so many. As I have pondered this over the years, I have almost anguished for those who just deride and can’t be bothered to think about what this pin-prick and then this pencil-shaft of light was about. It’s understandable that people don’t see, and don’t understand, because it does take a seeking heart to see and to understand.

And therein is a truth that is difficult to take in, that perhaps the very reason that God came in this form was to reveal US as we really are. I am challenged by the apostle Paul’s words about those who, “seek glory, honour and immortality“ contrasting such people with those “who are self-seeking and who reject the truth and follow evil.” (Rom 2:7&8)  Here is a truth. There are people who really desire after good, who desire after truth and who desire to know if there is something more than this ‘three score years and ten’ life on this earth. There is a quality about these people that makes them stand out and it seems that perhaps God came in the way He did, so that only such people would realise who He was and would reveal, in their responses to Him, who they were.

There are those who strive to be good for a variety of reasons. Some to appease a deep down guilt, some to prove that they are better than others, and then there are those who Paul had in mind who did good because they were certain that there was more to this life than meets the eye, and they wanted somehow, in some way, perhaps through their goodness, to reach through all the artificiality of this life and touch the One who is real.

Such people, when they hear about the ‘Christmas story’ pause and wonder, but they are not satisfied, so they read and read and seek and seek and in seeking, they find the One, and eventually realise that through this One they indeed receive glory, honour and immortality. In such a way they are truly better off than the birds in my garden who have no knowledge of this wonder. Don’t just ‘glance’ at the Christmas story; sit down and take it in, ponder it, wonder about it, and rejoice in the incredible One you see there.

Christmas Unreality

I think the more I have come to appreciate the Christmas story, the more I have not appreciated the trappings that the modern world affixes to Christmas. In fact, increasingly the modern Western world doesn’t really know how to handle Christmas.  I have seen a number of articles this year bemoaning the political correctness, worst it seems on the west coast of America, where everyone has become so oversensitive that we hardly dare mention the very word, Christmas. What a sad bunch!

The other day I was brought to tears over Christmas. I have the privilege of meeting each week with a group of about seven or eight women from a variety of backgrounds, most of whom are young Christians, to help build their faith. This last week I invited them to write their own reflections about Christmas and then to read them out. When it came to it, they asked me to read them out, and it was then that tears flowed. Here are a couple of extracts:

As the end of the year is approaching, faster than I would like, I find myself feeling anxious, worried and lonely about various things. I have a feeling of apprehension about the Christmas morning, with my daughter opening presents, a meal for two, for which I’ve yet to find the money, to buy, cook and clear away all by myself. Yet when I think about it more deeply, which I tend not to do because it’s easier not to, I realise that it boils down to loneliness.  It’s supposed to be a family time when people meet and greet – so why do I feel dread when I think of that day?  One reason is that although it will be me and my daughter, I will still feel alone – just her and me – lonely. But as I am writing this I am feeling the Lord saying to me, “You are not alone – you have me,” and as long as I remember that leading up to, during and after, then maybe I won’t feel so alone. After all, it is because of this day that I have a friend that I can always rely upon, any time, anywhere!

……………………………….

Christmas has always been a family time. As a child it was exciting. Once I had my own children, Christmas became special again. I could indulge again in all the wonder and make-believe, but it was all make-believe. That didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy bits but the rest of it, as a pre-Christian adult, has just been hiding the junk under a bit of tinsel. Horrible things have happened at Christmas time: my mum dying and my marriage breaking up. The glittering lights seemed to expose all the horrible stuff and give a real yearning for the make-believe to become real. When I think back it was usually a time of wishes and hopes followed by disappointment. Since becoming a Christian, there’s still a real yearning to get Christmas right for me, trying to drop the trappings and find the right way to celebrate the birth of our Lord. One day I will figure out the right way for me to celebrate Christmas. Whatever bad things have happened in the past, and whatever may happen in the future, I have hope, the best Christmas present ever, that was given to us all on that first Christmas when Jesus as born.

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I don’t know how those two strike you but, as I said, I was moved to tears, tears for their honesty, tears for their pain, and tears over what we have done to Christmas.

The reason the politically correct world doesn’t like Christmas is because it challenges the lie  that today’s clueless world makes, that all religions are the same. Christmas declares the New Testament’s assertion that at some time, some two thousand years ago, a whole lot of Old Testament prophecies were fulfilled by the coming of God to the earth in the form of a tiny baby (I’ll write another blog on that!).  Nowhere else in all history is this claim made and it is this which challenges and upsets the unbelieving, materialistic, humanistic world of today.  It may be beyond our understanding but the evidence (when you genuinely examine it) is compelling.

Both the two girls who I quoted above have been through tough times, abandoned with their children. It’s a familiar tale and it may be that you are so used to it that you remain unmoved. If that is so, that is very sad. Christmas is a time of mixed emotions; it’s a time when emotions are brought out. Can we add to them compassion and care and acceptance, characteristics of the one that the Christmas babe became? Dare we let our emotions be stirred to create action, this Christmas, that means the world is changed just a bit for the good? Dare we take time to sit down and examine the evidence and be moved? It could become a different Christmas.