The revelation of answered prayer. Matthew 6.

Have any of you seen the show Long Lost Family? It’s a favourite show of mine because it’s all about family finding each other. For those of you who haven’t seen it, the show’s producers are approached by people who are searching for who they really belong to. For example, a man who knows he was adopted but wants to find his birth mother; a woman who knows she was abandoned as an infant and wants to know who her mother is and why she was abandoned. And more often than not such searches turn up unknown brothers and sisters.

Not once have I seen a story where the person being searched for refuses to meet or doesn’t want to know their natural child or sibling. In every case there are strong emotions when someone finds out they have a family, or the natural parents discover their child is looking for them. And when the moment of meeting happens, the show has done its work, there are tears all round. What makes it such a good show is that the emotions are real, not acted. Each person on both sides of the search has a revelation of belonging. They have a real mum or dad or brother or sister.

It is a similar scenario with the reunification of Joseph and his brothers in today’s reading from Genesis. I am Joseph! Is my father still living? But his brothers were not able to answer him because they were terrified at his presence. Then as the revelation of belonging unfolds, Jospeh threw his arms around his brothers and wept, and Benjamin embraced him weeping. And he kissed all his brothers and wept over them. Afterwards his brothers talked with him.

Now with the story of Joseph there are two points where the desire for belonging is deeply expressed. First, there is the grief of Jospeh’s father Jacob when Joseph’s brothers showed him Jospeh’s bloodied coat and told him Joseph had been killed by a wild animal. The background is that Joseph’s brothers were jealous of Joseph and sold him into Egypt as a slave. The story they told their father was an outright lie to cover up the crime of selling their brother. But they did not expect their father to show such grief at the loss – the desire for belonging is traumatised. The second point where the desire for belonging is deeply expressed is when Joseph reveals himself to his brothers. The story says he wept so loudly that all the palace could hear him. The desire for belonging is fulfilled.

It doesn’t take much imagination to realise that the depth of desire for belonging and long-lost family for Jospeh and Jacob were the subjects of prayer to Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Were those prayers answered? Yes! Joseph was finally reunited with his long-lost brothers, and Jacob travelled to Egypt and was finally reunited with his long-lost son. Their answer to prayer brings to mind words from psalms 138 and 34: when I called, you answered me, and, I sought the Lord and he answered me. Both psalms celebrate the revelation of answered prayer, just as the emotional reunions of Joseph and Jacob did.

It is the gift of answered prayer from our Father in heaven that can be so astounding it can bring us to our knees in the depths of emotional expression, especially for a new Christian who hasn’t experienced it before. What was it like for you? Can you remember? I can. It was like the Long-Lost Family show. I was lost but now I’m found; blind but now I see. I now see that I have a father who is in heaven and a brother who sits at my heavenly father’s side; a brother who shared human life with me, Jesus Christ, and he is the one who brought me home by his death and resurrection. I have a father and a brother! My long-lost family!

What is the key to the success of Long-Lost Family, and the reconciliation of Joseph with his brothers? Relationship. Same with our heavenly Father and brother. Prayer is relational, not transactional. Prayer shares our lives with God and shapes us through it. Prayer doesn’t change God; it changes us. Pause for a moment and think about how your prayer life has helped make you into the person you are today. In prayer, through the difficult and the easy, through the fun and the pain, through encouragement and repentance, God has shaped us. It is the work of God in us; it is not our work on ourselves.

On one occasion, the disciples asked Jesus, Lord, teach us to pray. Excellent question which Jesus was more than happy to spend time answering. And he gave them a worked example, which we now call the Lord’s Prayer. Unfortunately for many of us in this century, the impact of that worked example at its first hearing has been lost. And by that, I mean we reel it off with so much familiarity we may as well just tick the boxes. It has almost become transactional, hasn’t it.

There is a sign in our church’s prayer corner that says, out of the depths I cry to you. Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy (Psalm 130). Out of the DEPTHS I cry to you. It does not say out of the shallows I cry for you. Can you not hear in those words the deep desire for relationship with God that the psalmist has? Can you not hear the emotional intensity of it? Do you not have any empathy with the psalmist for the depth of need he is experiencing? Out of the depths I cry to you, is where prayer begins.

Our Father: the first desire of relationship. Our God is so close that the Christian is privileged to call him Father, for he is indeed our heavenly Father.

Hallowed be your name: the holiness of God’s name is paramount and we worship in the name of our God. That is why the third commandment says do not take the Lord’s name in vain.

Your kingdom come and your will be done in heaven and on earth: the deep desire for God’s heavenly reign to be seen done on earth, that we surrender ourselves wholly and completely to it. That is why Jesus often taught about the cost to self of following him – the cost of discipleship.

Give us today our daily bread: our dependence on God for all our needs. During a recent aged care visit I sat in on a reading activity. The staff member read a poem about prayer, and I took the opportunity to raise a question about the position of hands in prayer. Or course they all put their hands together in the traditional way. Then I suggested holding out open hands with palms upwards. Why would that be an appropriate position of hands in prayer? Because it expresses our desire for dependence on God to fill our empty hands. We should not go to God when all else fails. God is not a credit card, as it were, that we can pull him out only when needed, and then put him back again. Desire to ask for our daily needs? To use the words of psalm 42, as a deer longs for water, so my soul longs for my, O God. And our father and brother in heaven are more than pleased to provide for the daily needs of those who ask in faith.

Forgive us our sins: a healthy relationship with God is predicated on the forgiveness of our sins. There has only ever been one person in human history who has led a sinless life, and that is our Lord Jesus. After all, he was divine Son of God. Every other person throughout human history has been, is, and will be with sin while ever this earthly age lasts. God is so white-hot holy and so perfect that it is against him we sin. We cannot get anywhere near that perfect white-hot holiness and sinless nature of God. The best of our own heart is but a filthy rag in comparison and it will do well to learn how to repent. Psalm 51, which is King David’s confession of his sin of adultery with Bathsheba, he prays to God, against you only have I sinned. David was a man who had a deep desire for God’s own heart, and he knew how to repent, how to throw himself on God’s mercy.

It is like the tax collector at prayer in the temple who beat his breast saying, God be merciful to me a sinner. And Jesus ends that story by saying he was the one who went home justified, and not the self-righteous Pharisee who gave thanks to God that he wasn’t like the despicable tax collector. Be a person after God’s own heart, come to the cross with your sins, and they will be forgiven. And then you must go and forgive your neighbour, because you yourself have been forgiven.

Save us from the time of trial and deliver us from evil: so much to unpack here that I could spend a whole sermon on. Just because we are Christians does not mean we are immune from trials and temptations. They will come. The last thing Satan wants is an effective Christian and an effective church. An effective Christian is a direct threat to him, and opposition to that effectiveness will be levelled against us in many and various ways. And it is subtle. Satan likes to portray himself as an angel of light, appealing to the merits of human wisdom, and he can twist the word of God to suit himself, as is evident in the three temptations that Jesus faced during his wilderness trials.

One such way is to get us to treat Christianity like a religion. All you have to do is show up, when you’ve got time, recite the prayers, sing the songs, and you’re done. Christianity is a relationship with your long-lost father and brother in heaven, and with each other as God’s church on earth. I noted well in last year’s Leading Your Church into Growth (LYCiG) conference the warning given about becoming a maintenance church, that is, a church that has let mission and outreach slip into the background of parish business – a transactional church.

We need to be on our guard and be ever watchful. St Peter, in his first letter to the churches in Asia Minor, writes, be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. And that is why St Paul, in his letter to the church in Ephesus, counsels the faithful to put on the full armour of God.

For the kingdom, the power, and glory are yours now and for ever: God’s power and glory reigns supreme. Satan is a lost cause. The cross has defeated him, even though he is still a dangerous enemy in this age. With sincere prayer and study of God’s word, God’s kingdom will be done on earth as in heaven. And I encourage every one of us to be faithfully engaged in those two as the foundation of all we do and say.

The opening words of psalm 40 express the revelation of answered prayer very well: I waited patiently for the Lord, and he inclined his ear to me and heard my cry. He brought me up from the pit of roaring waters, out of the mire and clay, and set me feet upon a rock. He has put a new song into my mouth, a song of everlasting thanksgiving to my God.

The revelation of answered prayer feels like coming home. It is the homeland of prayer, and it is where our Lord dwelt during his time with us on earth. The homeland of prayer is where Jesus discerned his vocation, the work his father had for him to do. And if we are to follow that example, we also must dwell in the homeland of prayer where we also discern our vocation, our choices, and the work God has for us to do.

So, ladies and gentlemen, be encouraged by three promises found in scripture. Concerning corporate prayer, Jesus said, when two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in the midst of them. Concerning private prayer, Jesus taught, when you pray, go into your room, close the door, and pray to your Father who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. Concerning how to pray, St Paul writes, in his letter to the Romans, the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Holy Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans, that is, when human language fails us.

And finally, be open to, be amazed at, and be surprised by the revelation of answered prayer. Come home to your long-lost family, your Father in heaven, and his Son, your brother, the Lord Jesus Christ. Then you will look into the eyes of your answered prayer in awe of God’s faithfulness.

Philip Starks

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Magi worshipping the Christ child. Matthew 2.

Such a well-known story, the coming of the wise men. A few points to note about it: Who are these magi? They are astrologers from a foreign country to the east of Israel. Astrologers study the stars because they think that the stars hold the destiny of humanity. But Matthew is saying that stars do not hold the destiny of humanity. Those magi came to worship the Christ child, who holds the destiny of humanity.  Do you see how Matthew has shifted the determination of human destiny from pagan astrology to Christ? It's a skilful piece of apologetic writing by the Evangelist. 

Yes, Matthew says the magi followed a star, but astronomers today know that stars don’t move. That’s why sailors can navigate by them. Whatever it may have been that they saw, Matthew is making the point that a heavenly sign was seen as a witness to the coming of God into our world in the person of Jesus. As the psalmist wrote, the heavens declare the glory of the Lord. And for the magi, and us today, the glory of the Lord that first Christmas eve 2000 years ago was the birth of Christ.

Another point: Foreign kings from the east came and bowed down to worship the Jewish messiah. Yes, Jesus said he came to the lost sheep of Israel, but in the greater scheme of things, Jesus is both Jewish messiah and Gentile saviour. Matthew is making the point that in the greater scheme of things, all humanity and its kings and rulers will bow down before the great king and divine lord. Jesus is for all humanity, and all humanity must worship in the beauty of his holiness.

Philip Starks

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The preaching of John and Baptist. Luke 3.

Now is the time

Procrastination is the thief of time. How often have we come across it? Putting off until tomorrow what you can do today. A difficult task; an unpalatable task; a boring duty; perhaps something you feel not up to the mark to do; or maybe the dreaded apathy has taken hold of you. But suppose tomorrow never comes. Then what? Do not put off until tomorrow what you can do today. And that is basically the message of John the Baptist to the crowds on the banks of the Jordan River.

John’s message has an urgency about it. He uses picture language to speak about a coming time of decision and judgement. and he does not pull any punches about that. John uses strong language with good reason. He is both a prophet and a pastor. Prophet, because his message is to call people into a time of repentance and baptism. God is about to act in human history to do something about sin and make it possible for people to return to God in a right and proper relationship. Pastor, because he does not want to see anyone lost in continued sin and forfeit their eternal lives.

John begins by saying to the crowds coming out to be baptised by him, you brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? In other words, they were a bunch of hypocrites who thought they could justify themselves by treating baptism as a work of their own merit, and therefore God should owe them some entitlement. They were relying on their own religiosity; we have Abraham as our father, as if that alone will save them. It won’t. For out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. In other words, God chooses anyone he will, even dead Gentile stones. So start producing fruitful lives in keeping with repentance, because the sacrifice of penitent and contrite heart is an acceptable sacrifice in God’s eyes.

Verse 9 reads, now the axe is laid at the root of the trees, therefore every tree not producing good fruit is to be cut down and thrown into the fire. It’s a figure of speech depicting a soon to come time of judgement, decision making, and the disposal and destruction of fruitless, useless trees. So soon that the process has already begun. The coming of Jesus at the first Advent 2000 years ago, his death and resurrection, is just the beginning.

We live between the first Advent and second Advent, when Christ will return, not as saviour because that work is completed, it is finished, were his dying words, but as judge. There is a lot of imagery about sifting, threshing, burning the chaff, separating sheep from goats. Then there is Jesus’ own teaching about his return, in passages like Mark chapter 13 where he talks about what we can expect, what we need to be on guard against, and that there will be a last day, even though no-one knows when that will be. So Jesus teaches us to be ready and watchful because that day will come when we least expect it. And of course, the book of Revelation is all about how history is unfolding and will continue to unfold until the destruction of the old order, in which we live, to make way for the new order of creation, the new heavens and the new earth, to which the faithful in Christ look forward to with certainty.

John’s message struck a chord with the crowds coming out to see him and they responded, what should we do then? Their question is the same as the crowd on the day of Pentecost who heard Peter’s preaching. What shall we do? In other words, when the message is heard and understood, the question of kingdom ethics must apply. What are we going to do about what we have just heard? John gives practical examples: give to those in need; do not extort money and do not accuse people falsely; be content with your pay.

These and many other points of kingdom ethics can be summed up by paying attention to what the prophet Micah wrote: God has shown you what is good. What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God. And this would also take into account Peter’s answer to the Pentecost crowd’s question. Repent and be baptised every one of you, because by giving up self and surrendering to repentance and baptism, you learn the meaning of God’s mercy so that you can in turn show mercy to others.

So the people have come to recognise John as a prophet, and since he speaks directly of end-times to come, they wonder if he is the Messiah. John replies he is not, but the Messiah is about to appear, which is why he is offering a baptism of repentance as preparation for the one to come. The time for preparation is now. It is a time of advent, a time of preparation for the coming of the Messiah, who will bring a superior baptism because he is the Holy One of God. And that baptism will be by the Holy Spirit and with fire. A superior baptism, a Pentecost baptism, a confirming baptism, a refiner’s fire baptism requiring intentional discernment, judgement, and decision. Why?

John gives a word picture to illustrate the reason why. His threshing fork is in his right hand to clean thoroughly his threshing floor and to gather the grain into his storehouse. But the chaff will be burned by inextinguishable fire. John’s hearers would have easily understood this illustration. When a crop of cereal was harvested, it was tipped on to a threshing floor and was made up of good wheat mixed with useless chaff. The farmer then tossed it up and down with a threshing fork as a means of sifting them. Chaff is much lighter than wheat and is thus easily separated from the heavier wheat, especially on a windy day. 

In other words, John’s message is that the coming of the Messiah is the beginning of a sifting process because there awaits a time of judgement at the end of history, a sifting of the faithful, patient and penitent, from the unfaithful, the self-living, and those who want God on their terms. Such people do not want a crucified Messiah. They do not want to take up their cross daily in discipleship. Why? Because it is going to cost them and they are going to have to die to self. They want religion on their terms, not relationship on God’s terms. And that is why the Baptist calls them a brood of vipers.

You see, the cross, the crucified Son of God, forces a decision. You cannot fence-sit. Fence-sitting is tantamount to a refusal of God’s offer of salvation. Jesus came into human history 2000 years ago to provide salvation from end-time judgement. If you want to be among the fruitful wheat gathered into God’s storehouse, and not useless chaff burned or a fruitless tree cut down, you need to go to the foot the cross with a penitent and contrite heart, with all your pain and sorrow, and leave them there. But do not do it trusting in your own religious righteousness. 

There is a prayer in the Eucharist liturgy called the Prayer of Approach, or the Prayer of Humble Access. It goes like this: “We do not presume to come to your table, merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in your manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under your table. But you are the same Lord whose nature is always to have mercy.” It is a beautiful prayer that hits the spot of how our relationship with God works.

There are two aspects to God’s nature we need to understand. On the one hand, God is holy. So holy that we cannot see God’s face and live. God’s holy nature is provoked to wrath where there is sin, and that is why sin must be judged and destroyed. And there’s no shortage of passages in Scripture which bear that out. On the other hand, God’s nature is love, and there’s no shortage of passages in Scripture which bear that out, in particular the classic John 3.16.

God’s love is such that he does not want anyone to be chaff or fruitless trees, lost, cut down and destroyed. The extraordinary lengths to which God went in entering our world in the person of Jesus Christ and what he suffered and gave up for us, is mind blowing. For those who accept that by faith and obedience, eternal life is theirs. But for those who refuse, who want God on their own terms, are throwing God’s love back in his face. And that is the height of rebellion and sinfulness. No wonder God’s holy and righteous nature is provoked to wrath against it.

So, in the words of the crowds back then, what should we do, today? There is a verse in the psalms, quoted in the letter to the Hebrews, today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts. And from the letter to the Romans, be transformed by the renewing of your minds. We must pay careful attention to what we have heard so that we do not drift away, lose our faith, and become complacent. We must be alert because the great enemy, the devil, is always looking for a way of dragging us away from our faith and taking our eyes off Jesus.

There are two ways of keeping ourselves alert: regular reading and study of God’s word in the Bible, and prayer. Stay in touch with God; it is your primary relationship in this life and the next. This life is temporary, as we all know, but the next life is forever, permanent, it will never end. I find that a very sobering thought. How would you like to spend forever? Today, not tomorrow, today if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts. And through the discipline of bible study and prayer, be transformed by the renewing of your minds while it is still today.

Let me ask you this question: Who do you think was the first person to follow Jesus into his kingdom? Was it Elijah, the great prophet? Was it St Paul, the great evangelist? Perhaps it was Moses, the great law giver? It was the thief on the cross. Today, you will be with me in paradise. A crucified thief. Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom, were the last words of a dying thief for whom there were no more tomorrows.

Advent is a serious time of preparation for each and every one of us. Suppose Jesus appears to you today with a message, a call, a request. Will you be ready? Who knows what might be asked of you. A new ministry; a new place to do God’s work; a time of retreat so that you may be refreshed and transformed by the renewing of your heart and mind; the strengthening of a relationship with a family member. Whatever it may be, be prepared. The time is now. Today!

Philip Starks

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Who do people say Jesus is? Mark 8. Matthew 16.

Who do you say I am?

The Apostle Paul, while he still went by his Jewish name of Saul, was sent by the temple authorities to Damascus to arrest those of the Way, as the followers of Jesus were known at that time. As he got close to the city, a brilliant light flashed around him and a voice called out saying, “Saul, Saul! Why are you persecuting me?” To which Saul replied, “who are you, Lord? To which the Lord replied, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.”

It's a key question for anyone who encounters Jesus at the beginning of their life of faith in him. Who are you, Lord? Jesus has called you and you want to know who he is. In any relationship at its beginning, you want to know who the other person is. The same question came to my mind one evening when I was praying for a friend of mine. At one point during that time, I received what might be described as the classic Ah moment, eyes opened, ears tuned in, someone had spoken. In my quest to know more about the one who had spoken, I set about reading all I could about Jesus. I went round to my friend’s flat to tell her all about Jesus is Lord. But although she could see something had happened, what I was telling her largely went unrecognised.

The point is, the recognition of Jesus as Son of the Living God cannot be appropriated by human means. It is a supernatural gift given for the purpose of bringing you into a relationship with Jesus. This is made clear by Jesus himself.

In this morning’s reading from Mark’s gospel, and in its parallel in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus asks his disciples, who do people say I am? They answer, some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, some say one of the prophets. In other words, the some-sayers don’t know. They can’t recognise Jesus for who he is, let alone give a committed answer to the question. And here is the reason why.

It’s personal: who do you say I am? The “you” is emphatic in the original Greek text. Peter declares, you are the Christ the Son of the Living God. And here’s the rub: Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. In other words, the knowledge you have been given about who I am is not of human origin. It is a supernatural gift from God the Father so that no one can boast about it being their own achievement on their own merits.

You see, God is a god who wishes to make himself known. God is a god of self-disclosure. As the letter to the Hebrews says, God has spoken to us in many and various ways, but in these last days, he has spoken to us by a Son. Our God is a speaking god. That is how he reveals himself to us. And from that, two questions arise: who do you say Jesus is, and what do you want with him? Do you want relationship, or do you want religion? The reason you are asked those two questions is because Jesus died on a Roman cross to bring you into a relationship with him. He did not die for religion.

The great Billy Graham proclaimed a message of relationship with Christ, and hundreds went forward each time to receive Christ into their lives. There was nothing religious about it.

The difference between religion and relationship goes like this: two men went to church one Sunday. One was a lord of the manor, the other a poor homeless addict. The lord of the manor stood up front and prayed, I thank you God I’m not like that homeless addict. I’ve kept the rules, done the right thing, in church every Sunday, I’m a good person. So now I claim my reward of blessing from you. Whereas the homeless addict sat at the back, eyes cast down and cried, Lord have mercy on me, a sinner. He was the one who went home justified in the sight of God. The homeless addict wanted relationship with God; the lord of the manor wanted religion.

Christianity is not a religion. It might look like a religion and is often treated like one, but it is a relationship with the living God, who loves us so much that he was prepared to die for our sins through his Son, Jesus Christ, to bring us home to him.

All sorts of people came to Jesus for various reasons: a Canaanite woman who wanted her daughter healed; a rich young man who wanted eternal life on his own terms; a chief tax collector called Zacchaeus. Each one was tested with the same question amounting to, what do you want with me?

The Canaanite woman was challenged. In a nutshell, she was called a Gentile dog not fit for the children’s crumbs. But when she confessed, I’d rather eat the crumbs that fall from my master’s table, she demonstrated an intense desire for relationship with Jesus. And she prevailed. Her daughter was healed at that very moment. The rich young man was challenged to give up his material attachments and follow Jesus. He couldn’t do it. He wanted the religion of law keeping, not relationship. Zacchaeus wasn’t going to let anything obscure his desire for a relationship with Jesus. That’s why he climbed a tree to get a better view of his heart’s desire. And Jesus was welcomed into Zacchaeus’ house.

Compare that with the Pharisees who rounded on Jesus for being a law breaker. Their faith was in religion and it got them nowhere. Did not Jesus say when they asked him for a sign, why does this generation (meaning they, the Pharisees) ask for a sign? No sign will be given. In other words, if your faith is in religion and not in me, you will never see me for who I really am.

Now, there is another point about what it takes to enter into a relationship with Jesus. Jesus taught that whoever wants to be his disciple must deny themselves, take up their cross and follow him. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for the sake of the gospel, will save it.

When Jesus told his followers that their lives of being his followers meant they had to deny themselves, he was not giving them a piece of friendly advice. It was a command, as the original Greek text shows. If you want to be in a relationship as my disciple, you must put away your old life, your former slavery to sin, living for self and your old ways, and give yourself over to me.

Let me illustrate it this way. I watched the wedding of Mary Donaldson to Frederick of Denmark. I recall how Mary’s father led her up the isle and handed her over to her husband into a new life. She left behind her old life and entered a new life in covenant with her husband. She is now under his care and authority. And Frederick left behind his old life when he accepted Mary.

Life in Christ is a new life. We must accept Christ and hand ourselves over to him. We cannot enter our new life in Christ while still shackled to our old life, any more than Mary Donaldson could enter her new life of marriage with her husband if she remained under her father’s roof in her old life, or any more than Frederick could enter his new life of marriage if he couldn’t accept Mary.

There are just two things you take with you into eternity when your time on this earth is finished: your relationship with God, and how you have treated other people, who are also made in God’s image same as you are. Everything else counts for nothing. Money, power, rank, ambition, the idols of life, are worthless in the Kingdom of Heaven. Give them up, for you cannot serve two masters.

So, who do you say Jesus is, and what do you want with him? Relationship or religion? By faith we enter relationship; by works we perform religion.

As I invite you to consider your answer, I encourage you to keep in mind the story of the blind man who sat by the side of the road, and when he heard Jesus passing by, he cried, Son of David have mercy on me. Jesus asked him, what do you want me to do for you? What do you want with me? It’s an extraordinary generous open question from the master. The blind man chose relationship. Lord, I want to see. Go, said Jesus, your faith has healed you. Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.

In other words, the blind man, because he cried out for mercy, which is the first utterance of a desire for relationship with God, received not only his eye sight but also his insight. He recognised Jesus as Son of the Living God and followed him as a true disciple leaving behind his old way of life.

Philip Starks
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For my power is made perfect in your weakness. 2 Corinthians 12.

What we have in the bible as 2 Corinthians is more than likely to be 2 and 3 Corinthians. Textual criticism can uncover at least two distinct letters penned by St Paul. That means the Corinthians were the recipients of the largest corpus of Paul’s correspondence. Why? It was a church that had big problems. Corinth was a very tough nut to crack. It was pagan, materialistic, Hellenistic (that is steeped in Greek religion and culture), and of course riddled with corruption at the highest levels. The forces aligned against the new teaching that the Jewish Jesus of Nazareth was Lord and Christ were formidable.

The major problem was Greek cultic religion and culture, which focused on intellectual pride, distain for the physical world in favour of higher wisdom and knowledge of the spiritual, boasting and competition within the young church, cultural arrogance, and admiration of public power, style and polish. And on top of that, Paul’s apostolic authority was being challenged by those who didn’t like it. So it’s little wonder that Paul wrote two, three, and perhaps as many as four letters to the church at Corinth.

Paul’s pastoral concern for his church shines through in the determined way he writes. He doesn’t want to lose anyone and see them return to Greek cultic paganism. He writes passionately about what life in Christ is about and shows how different it is to what they have previously known. He covers issues such as being a new creation in Christ; how we are renewed daily through our walk with him by faith and not by sight; being treasure in clay jars, responding to the call of God and handing over to him our weaknesses; how we are recipients of much generosity from God and therefore are expected to respond in like manner through the work he gives us to do.

This morning, we take another look at our weaknesses, only this time about how Christ’s power is made perfect in those weaknesses.

Let’s begin 3000 years ago when Israel and the Philistines were at war, again. But instead of allowing a blood bath to happen, each side chose a champion. One man is to fight the other in a duel to the death, and whoever won, that side won. The Philistines chose a huge man, Goliath. Armour so heavy that no one else could wear it and a sword so heavy that no one else could lift it. In the Israelite camp, nobody wanted to go up against him. I don’t blame them. But, one young man put his hand up. A shepherd boy called David with a stone and sling. He wasn’t strong enough to wear full armour, let alone lift a broad sword. It was a foregone conclusion – or was it?

Goliath swore, mocked, ridiculed, and laughed. But what did David say in reply? You come against me with sword and javelin, in other words trusting in your own strength, but I come to you in the name of the Lord, who you have defied. And you all know the outcome of the story. David put a simple stone in his sling, swung it round and launched it with pin point accuracy against Goliath, and Goliath was killed instantly with a cracked skull.

Now let me ask you this question. Whose power was made perfect that day? David said, I come to you in the name of the Lord. God’s power was made perfect through David’s weakness. Goliath didn’t stand a chance. God’s grace was sufficient for David.

The David and Goliath story is of the defeat of self-reliance and the spurning of trust in God. It can also be the story of secular religion, which idolises human power and strength. And how so often do we see that? I can do it my way; my ego rules the day so follow me; narcissists; tin-pot dictators; self-made billionaires; self-serving politicians; gurus who will peddle every philosophy under the sun rather than acknowledge the God and Father of our Lord Jesus, who has the real power of life and death, resurrection, and justice. It is he who rules, it is he who reigns, and it is he whose power is made perfect in weakness. And then there’s the supreme example of God’s power made perfect in weakness: the cross. Who would think that a crucified man would amount to the establishment of an eternal kingdom? Did not Paul preach Christ crucified to be the power of God?

Now, let’s look briefly at this morning’s reading from 2 Corinthians where St Paul recounts Jesus’ answer to his prayer to take away a thorn in his side. We don’t know what the so-called thorn was. Paul doesn’t say. He just describes the problem as a thorn. But whatever it was, it caused Paul problems which he thought interfered with the way he conducted his ministry and therefore weakened it.

St Paul was, in every other way, a tower of strength. He was intellectual giant; a Pharisee; a student of Gamaliel, one of the most respected rabbis of the day; and his energy as being zealous for the law was second to none. But all that changed in a moment when he met the risen Jesus on the road to Damascus. It was extraordinary experience, and he writes of another that he describes as being caught up to the third heaven and hearing things which mortal man may not utter.

I can just imagine it. Paul the tele-evangelist lauding all these credentials. Viewers will flock; ratings will be sky high; money will flow. And then it is no longer the work of God, but the work of Paul. It becomes his ministry, his flock, his ratings, his cause. Jesus becomes the object of Paul’s cause, and Paul is in charge of it, self-elevated and self-made. So as a check to all this, Paul is given a problem with the explanation that, my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Change of scene, change of tune, as it were. Paul writes, Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly of my weakness, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. It is all about Christ. I wonder how the questioning goes at ordination selection conferences. Do the candidates boast all the more gladly of their weaknesses so that the power of Christ may rest upon them?

Let’s now look briefly at this idea of human weakness in ministry and what can be done about it.

In John’s gospel, we are reminded of Jesus’ teaching that apart from him we can do nothing. In other words, all that we do in ministry must be rooted in Christ alone. Much afflicts us. We suffer from anxiety, confusion, tiredness, apathy, temptation, self-serving, and the list goes on. For example, you may be experiencing a spiritual winter of anxiety or confusion. Your prayer life may seem dry, but if you are faithful and persist, you will find that unseen roots sink deep into the ground, ready to produce the fruit of a new and exciting relationship with Jesus.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus taught us not to be anxious. The meaning of the Greek word for anxiety carries the idea of division: divided minds and hearts. Should I do this or that? Which way shall I proceed? My prayer life is riddled with anxious thoughts, and I don’t know what to focus on. I am torn between trusting my worldly instincts for survival in the worldly affairs of my time and circumstances, and trusting in God’s good provision for me in his time and circumstances. Don’t we all relate to that one?

Or are you a tired and exhausted Christian? You keep running on and on, climbing higher and higher, and you end up with burn out. Hitting the ground running, climbing every mountain, may seem like the strength of chasing achievement, which is how it goes in the world of secular religion, but in Christian ministry it’s a serious weakness. Why? Because there is little that delights the enemy, the devil, more than a burnt-out Christian. Satan will exploit ego, self-reliance, resistance, stubbornness, and temptation to the nth degree until he renders you useless.

So what can we do? Well, we can begin by noting that St Paul’s thorn was not the hinderance he thought it was, but his ego was and that’s what had to be held in check, because that’s what Satan would have exploited. How should it be held in check? By submitting to Jesus’ authority in your life; by praying such things as, search me, O God, and know my heart. Try me and know my thoughts from psalm 139; and from psalm 90, let the favour of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands, yes establish the work of our hands. Note how that line is repeated for emphasis in psalm 90. It is God who establishes the work of our hands, not us.

Ladies and Gentlemen, what I am leading up to here is the formidable power of prayer. Dietrich Bonhoffer wrote that the richness of the Word of God ought to determine our prayers, not the poverty of our hearts. Prayer is the solution to the power of Christ being made perfect in our weakness. Submission to prayer changes us. Prayer is a privileged time and space where we can be at home with our Lord, being attentive to him. There we find depth, energy, guidance for choices, and space to be with God to consider and reflect. Prayer is our coordination of life. We need to understand prayer more as a relationship and less as something we simply do. Prayer makes us available to God.

Here's a well-known example of a life changed by a simple prayer. John Newton was an English slave trader in the eighteenth century. On one of his trips, aboard the Greyhound, he awoke to find the ship caught in a severe storm off the coast of Ireland. It was close to sinking, and Newton, in his obvious situation of weakness, prayed simply, Lord have mercy on me, after which the storm began to die down. After four weeks at sea the Greyhound made it to port and Newton was a changed man. His personal experience of deliverance from certain drowning became the hymn he wrote called Amazing Grace.

Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved wretch like me!

I once was lost but now I’m found, was blind but now I see.

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.

John Newton went on to become a very effective Anglican priest and abolitionist (that is, one who worked to end the slave trade). His life and work are a testimony to the formidable power of prayer at an intense time of weakness and his ministry beyond it.

We’ve come a long way this morning, from David and Goliath three millennia ago, to John Newton two and half centuries ago. So what shall we say of us today? Perhaps we need to understand that the thorns and thistles of our ministries are not the hinderances we think they are. They could be there for a reason. Perhaps we should pray, Lord in my weakness, show me the way I should go, search me and know my anxious thoughts. His amazing grace is sufficient for us.

So, I encourage you to set aside your so-called strengths, confidences, and merits. Instead, why not begin to develop an appetite for authentic intimacy with God. Immerse yourself in his word and prayer, and explore the quiet but profound joy of loving God and being loved by God, of truly knowing him and being known by him. It is a foundation of fellowship; it is to drink from the water of life such that your soul thirsts for it. For that is when we discover that his power is indeed made perfect in our weakness.

Philip Starks
Published under Creative Commons Copyright Licence

Pentecost. Acts 2

In the power of the Holy Spirit

One evening after work, I was walking past St Patrick’s cathedral in East Melbourne. It was windy and I sat down for a few moments to rest. As I looked towards the cathedral grounds, I saw what looked like one of the shrubs on fire in the gardens, but it wasn’t burning up. It took me a few moments to gather myself and realize there was a spotlight shining through it from behind, and the blowing shrub was giving the illusion that the bush was on fire but not burning up. Of course, it reminded me of the story of Moses encountering the burning bush in Sinai. God’s presence was manifest in fire at that moment. And there are other instances when God’s presence was manifest in fire. The story of the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost is one of them. There looked like tongues of fire resting on each of the gathered disciples: God’s presence was with them in the power of the Holy Spirit.

Not so long before, the disciples were gathered together behind locked doors for fear of the Jewish authorities. Jesus had been crucified, the movement appeared crushed, and each one feared he would be next on the Sanhedrin’s hit list. Now, on the day of Pentecost, they were once again gathered together in one place. It may have been behind locked doors in fear again, we’re not told. Probably not, because by this time they had witnessed the risen Lord and his ascension. Nevertheless, they all knew the risks of coming out as Jesus’ followers, and no doubt they were experiencing the trepidation of carrying that out. But this time something different happened. What was it?

From verse 15 onwards, in Acts chapter 2, we have Peter’s sermon. Bold as brass, raising his voice to the crowd, proclaiming the gospel message straight down the line, and with such persuasion that the crowd were cut to the heart. What shall we do, they asked. Answer? Repent and believe, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins.

I find myself, in my imagination, one in the crowd. What is my reaction? What am I thinking? My reaction is wow, this guy is speaking with an authority that the local clergy don’t have, and with such power and persuasion, like he is in possession of a power that I haven’t seen before. My thoughts are, if what Peter says is true, I want it. I can see it for myself. These guys are not afraid of the Jewish and Roman authorities. They answer to a new authority, one in which I want to believe. And so I ask, what should I do? Answer is, repent and believe in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of my sins.

If it wasn’t for the coming of the Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost, the young church would have died out in short time out of fear and being silenced. But it didn’t. It was driven out of Jerusalem with a new power. A power to transform lives from within and with boldness. A power to go and make disciples of all nations. The power of proclamation and persuasion, baptizing in the name of Jesus, and teaching them to obey all that he taught. That is, ALL nations. The prophets of long ago, and the psalmist, foresaw the message of salvation to be for all nations, not just Israel as it was then. All people shall stream to Mount Zion, for example in Isaiah. Today, believers of all nations are gathered around the new temple, which is Christ’s body and person. As he said, destroy this temple, and I will rebuild it in 3 days (John 2.19). Jesus was, of course, referring to his body as “this temple.” And it is the power and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit that makes it so.

Some weeks ago, my growth group was challenged by one of the questions in the study book on John’s gospel we are working through: “do you ever hesitate, perhaps out of fear of rejection or a sense of embarrassment, to share the good news of your personal relationship with Jesus? If so, what might be holding you back?” Perhaps these words of Jesus might help: do not worry about what you will say. The Holy Spirit will give you the words to say and will remind you of everything I have taught you.

One of my favourite psalms is 139. Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me and lead me in the way of everlasting. Here, the psalmist is inviting the Holy Spirit, who of course is God, to search, sift, and test. It is a transformative searching, sifting, and testing. The psalmist is presenting himself as vulnerable to a time of preparation, renewal, healing, and personal strengthening. He has anxious thoughts; he longs for a clean heart and a clear conscience before God, and that there be no offensive way within him. This reminds me of St Paul’s letter to Timothy in which Paul encourages his young disciple that, the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love, and self-discipline.

So, how does this work? Well, let me ask you another question to start off. How would you feel about a relationship in which you are not heard or understood, dismissed, or otherwise not valued? You are diminished aren’t you. There is no power of love for you. There is no sense of belonging, of being at home in the relationship. Belonging is being somewhere you want to be, and others want you too, and they accept you for who you are - your authentic self. You feel understood, heard, and valued. In other words, you are validated. So, do you not think that when the Holy Spirit searches hearts and minds to know anxious thoughts, that it is the work of God understanding, hearing, and validating you? We do not need to be afraid. We have not been given a spirit of timidity. Be not anxious, Jesus taught. Where is our faith?

The Holy Spirit is in the business of personal transformation for a wonderful relationship with our God, who loves us so much. Did not the disciples, who were gathered together on the day of Pentecost, experience a direct and personal transformation in the power of the Holy Spirit? Were they anxious? Did they go out into the crowds with a spirit of timidity, afraid and trembling? No! From that point on, the work of God for them was whole-of-life-discipleship, and that meant living a life of faith and proclamation alongside others and encouraging them in their own faith journey.

Friends, I encourage you to adopt a whole-of-life-discipleship. Learn to stay aware of the presence of the Holy Spirit amidst everyday activities, in small moments, with thankfulness and pleas for help. For without him, we can do nothing. In the messiness of everyday life, allow his strength to be made perfect in your weakness. And remember, if you are open to him, the Holy Spirit will come looking for you. He will seek you out and bring you home. The lost sheep didn’t find its own way home; the good shepherd went searching for it. The Father loves; the Son saves; the Spirit searches, transforms and empowers. And when that happens, the Christian stands, not under the dictatorship of a legalistic ‘you ought, but in the captivating field of Christian freedom under the empowering of the ‘you may.’ 

Philip Starks
Published under Creative Commons Copyright Licence

It is God who serves. John 13

Maundy Thursday

Queen Elizabeth II spent a lifetime of service to her subjects. She was a servant yet a queen. How can a queen be a servant? Kings and queens are at the top; servants are down below. But what is the role of a king or queen? The role is to lead, and to lead you need to serve those whom you lead. A husband is head of his home. He leads his family, but unless he cares for them in loving service, they have no part of him, and he has no part of them.

In the story of Jesus washing his disciple’s feet, John gives us a word picture of an extraordinary god. The traditional picture of God is of lord and master; God rules and we serve; God decrees and we obey. And yes, God is lord and master. Yes, we do need to obey because he is God. But Jesus’ example, on the night before he died, towards those whom he has been leading, shows another side of what it means for God to be our lord and master.

It shows us the hospitality of God. In the Middle East, hosts would provide bowls of water to wash the feet of weary travellers. But the actual washing would be done by a lowly servant. The guest is welcomed, raised up and refreshed. What then was the example Jesus demonstrated to his disciples that night? Was it not the hospitality of God towards those whom he loves?

God the Father’s purpose is to lead us home to him, into a right relationship with him that we can enjoy forever, starting now. God the Son provided the way home for us by atoning for our sins so that we can enter into that blessed and right relationship with the Father. And that atonement was made at the cross. Without it we would never be free from the dark night of the solitary human soul crying out, I have no purpose, I have no value, I am alone for I have no share of God.

What happens when a solitary human soul reaches the point at which it cries out, I am alone for I have no share of God? It recognizes its need for God, and that recognition comes by the power of the Holy Spirit bearing witness to who Christ is and what he came into our world to do.

Now, what did Jesus mean when he said to Peter, unless I wash you, you have no share of me? Perhaps Jesus’ words could be put this way: unless I serve you, I cannot provide you with the way home to the Father. Unless I die for you, Peter, my greatest act of loving service towards you cannot be fulfilled, and therefore you can have no share with me.

You see, ladies and gentlemen, God is a god who serves. And he does so because he loves us, just like a husband serves the wife he loves, even though he is the head of his house. It’s extraordinary! Divine God serving us? You, Lord, washing my feet? But if we don’t let him serve us, we have no part of him.

Now, Christians will say, I’m serving God here or there or in such and such a role. And in one sense, yes, we are. God calls, we hear and respond in obedience. But think of it this way: wherever we go, what are we doing? Or more to the point, who’s work are we doing? Ours or God’s? Is it not God’s work? The work of God serving the people who need to be brought home to him.

It's mind boggling how divine God stooped to serve us to the ultimate end – his death in Christ on Good Friday so that we can come home to him. He really is the Servant King; a king, yet with the hospitality of service. As it is written in psalm 113, who is like the Lord our God, who has risen on high to his throne, yet stoops from the heights to look down upon heaven and earth? From the dust he lifts up the lowly. From the dung heap he raises the poor to set them in the company of princes. In other words, God is king on his throne, yet he stoops to lift the lowly from the dust, as a servant would.

And from the prophet Isaiah, see my servant shall act wisely; he shall be high and lifted up, and shall be exalted. We all know these words to be the opening of Isaiah’s foretelling of the servant king. He was pierced for our transgressions. By his wounds we are healed. The suffering servant king is Jesus Christ.

Now in a few moments there will be an opportunity for us to re-enact Jesus’ example of washing each other’s feet. And as we do it, I’d like us to remember that not only are we expressing service to each other, we are also demonstrating the hospitality of our servant king. It is God who serves because it is God who loves.

Philip Starks
Published under Creative Commons Copyright Licence

The year of the Lord's favour. Isaiah 61.

Peace with God in our time.

Acknowledgment. Some of my material for this sermon is drawn from the following published works:

Helmut Thielicke. Life can begin again : sermons on the Sermon on the Mount. James Clark, 1966.

Luigi Gioia. Touched by God : the way to contemplative prayer. Bloomsbury Continuum, 2018.

Neville Chamberlain, the British prime minister at the start of World War Two, thought he had achieved ‘peace in our time’, as he put it, by making a pact with the Nazis in Germany. It was soon found to be a fiction. There was to be no peace in his time. The same is true today in Gaza and Ukraine. Where is the peace in our time? Or for that matter, where has any peace been in time? Jesus warned us to expect wars, trials and tribulations before history is concluded. What, then, is the peace that the season of Advent proclaims? What is the message of today’s Old Testament reading from Isaiah 61 about?

Isaiah 61 was originally an oracle for Israel coming home after their exile to Babylon was over in 538 BCE. It was a proclamation of good news to the poor of the land. The captives were released. It was the year of the Lord’s favour, as foretold by the prophet.

Now jump forward some 570 years to Jesus’ time. You will recall that Jesus applied this prophecy to himself when he was invited to preach in the synagogue at Nazareth. It’s known as the Nazareth Manifesto. The question to ask is, who are the poor, the broken hearted, the captives held in darkness, those who mourn? And why is Jesus’ arrival the year of the Lord’s favour?

In Jesus’ day, as in our own century, there is no shortage of the miserable, the lonely, the careworn, and those who are hagridden by anxiety. Then one day, they gathered about on the side of a mountain to hear Jesus preach what we know as the Sermon on the Mount. What did they expect to hear? Religious dogma? Or that they were victims of their own miserable conditions?

At any rate, they all thought he will be calling on them to repent, as John the Baptist did not so long before. So they are gathered on the mountainside knowing, or they think they know, what is going come out Jesus’ mouth: God’s declaration of war against man, denunciation of sin, and painful scrutinizing exposure of their innermost thoughts. But that was not Jesus’ message on that day. The message that day was, the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor, bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim freedom for the captives, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.

So when Jesus began to speak on the mountainside, something completely unexpected happened, something that drove the people to astonishment. Jesus said to the crowd who were harried by suffering, misery, guilt and loneliness, blessed are you who are poor, blessed are you who mourn, blessed are you who hunger and thirst for righteousness, and blessed are you who are persecuted.

When Jesus preached repentance, he preached it from the heart with tears. He wept over Jerusalem, which even then failed to recognize the things that made for peace with God in their time. Jesus wept not only because the people of Jerusalem, his own people, were lurching so awfully towards an abyss. Jesus wept because he knew the power of the Seducer, the menacing mystery of the devil who seizes even the upright, the respectable and morally intact by the throat, and grips them in such a way that at first they have no premonition of the dreadful slopes to which they are being edged by a consummate cunning. These are ones who are held captive, who Jesus has come to set free.

And what about the poor and miserable, those who are persecuted? Why are they called blessed? Because it is as if Jesus might answer the question himself this way:

“The reason why you who are miserable and afraid are called blessed is simply that I am with you in all of it. You complain because you must suffer. Look, I myself found my calling in extreme suffering, and I learned obedience through it. You complain that in all your sufferings the face of God has vanished, that you cannot feel his presence, and you are left so dreadfully alone. Look, I too had that feeling of god-forsakenness which found its vent in the cry of dereliction of loneliness.

“Don’t you understand my brothers and sisters? You are blessed because I am in the midst of you, and that because you are suffering my sorrows, I will also lead you to my fulfillments and my blessings.”

How can we be sure of all this? Well, we have a signature, sealed with blood and sanctified by our Lord’s own sufferings and his resurrection. A signature certifying that in everything God works for good with those who love him. This, then, is why the Nazareth Manifesto commissions Jesus as the anointed one to bring good news to the poor, bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim freedom for the captives, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.

Now, there are two points to how the brokenhearted are restored, to how the poor receive the gospel as good news, and to how freedom is proclaimed to those who are captive to sin. The first, as I’ve already looked at, is because we have a Lord and Saviour who knows what human suffering is better than any of us could ever know. The second point is that those who are afflicted in these ways are allowed the freedom to mourn and to weep.

They are not mourning and weeping out of the shame associated with betraying our holy and loving God the way the story of sin’s entry into human history is told in Genesis chapter three. That’s not freedom; that’s captivity to shame, wallowing and self-pity. But in Christ there is no shame, and life can begin again. So what is this freedom to mourn and to weep on hearing good news that the broken hearted are restored?

It is the freedom to hand yourself over to God in absolute trust, knowing that he will set you free from your fears and anxieties. Whatever your past has been, you have a spotless future. Life can begin again. But how does mourning and weeping give effect to handing our broken selves over to God? It is because God has given us the gift of emotional expression, with tears. So let them flow. It brings relief. It expresses godly sorrow. It hands over to our loved ones how we feel about ourselves. And is not God our loved one?

Did not a weeping nameless woman anoint Jesus’ feet with oil and wipe them with her hair? Jesus became her loved one, and he commended her. She found peace with God in her time. She might have been nameless then, but she has been remembered for two thousand years for her expression of love for Jesus. And did not Peter weep bitterly after he denied Jesus three times? Jesus did not condemn him. He knows what being human is. Jesus loved Peter, and Peter was restored and re-commissioned after he declared to the risen Lord, you know I love you.

A close friend of mine wrote a verse for me about this point at a time when I was feeling very lost:

God said to me, "Be of good cheer, Little Soul. Something is going so right if only you could see what I see in your life. So don't be in a hurry to toss aside your scars, your troubles, your panics, and your tears. They are only what you see with your worldly mind. But all your mournful complaints are as precious rubies to me, if only you would trust me, sight unseen with faith seeking understanding.”

“Go into the recesses of your heart where your truth nestles. Look at the sorrows of your life and all the hard knocks and betrayals, all those loves-gone-cold, and see my love at work in you. This is where your treasure is hidden. It is not in the stars but in your scars.”

A second reason why lamenting brings freedom to our souls is that our God is a listening god. When God listens generously to those who mourn, he creates a sanctuary for the homeless parts within us. His is a ministry of presence and of a safe place. To be listened to, attentively and sensitively, is one of the most therapeutic experiences we can have, because it taps into our deep need to be taken seriously, and to be acknowledged, validated, and valued for who we are. God excels in empathy listening because he knows what it is to be human through his Son, Jesus Christ, and because his love for us is paramount.

And herein lies the antidote to loneliness. The very essence of loneliness is the lack of a sense of being heard, validated, attended to, and acknowledged. Who can I trust with my innermost thoughts, fears, hopes, doubts, and anxieties? Who will listen? If there is no one to listen, then the homeless parts within us remain homeless. But when God listens, we return home and cry out, thanks be to God someone has heard me. Someone knows what it is like to be me.

Here, then, is why Jesus chose the words from the prophet Isaiah to inaugurate his ministry of proclaiming good news to the poor, comforting those who mourn and lifting up the broken hearted.

These words from Sirach 2 are apt:

Consider the ancient generations and see.

Who ever trusted in the Lord and was put to shame? Or who ever persevered in the fear of the Lord and was forsaken? Or who ever called upon him and was overlooked?

For the Lord is compassionate and merciful; he forgives sins and saves in time of affliction.

In other words, because the Father has anointed the Son to bring good news to the poor, comfort those who mourn and lift up those who are broken hearted, they will never be forsaken or overlooked or put to shame whenever they cry out and call upon his name. They are the ones who have peace with God in their time, the great Advent message.

Philip Starks
Published under Creative Commons Copyright Licence

Be joyful, not anxious: God is to be found. Philippians 4.

At my previous parish, two of my friends became ill with cancer. We, their church family, prayed often enough, but in the end the two friends weren’t healed, and they both died. The question is, why? Why didn’t healing happen? Why weren’t their lives spared?

In my quiet times about this, I am reminded from the pages of the gospels that Jesus healed all who encountered him. He never refused anyone, even when they didn’t belong to his own people, Israel. So why hadn’t prayer been answered? It’s an age-old question, and one that came up at Alpha the other week.

It's a natural and perfectly understandable human response to trauma to ask of God, why? The unfairness, the injustice, the suffering needs to be resolved, and the Christian turns to God. Who else is there to turn to? Friends, family, loved ones are available, but they can’t answer the question of why. So I’ve stopped asking why. It’s a pointless question because there is no answer. I am reminded of God’s words through the prophet Isaiah, my ways are not your ways, and my thoughts are higher than yours. What then, is the right question to ask?

The question to ask is, where. Where are you God in this situation or in that matter? There’s turn of phrase in Greek that Paul uses in verse 6 of this morning’s passage from Philippians that literally means, towards God. It’s also used by John in the opening verses of his Gospel, often translated as, the Word was with God. It’s an expression of relationship. In other words, how are you and God together? How do you stand with him? Where are you and he in relation to each other?

To illustrate: let’s suppose there is some issue between a husband and wife. And I use the illustration of marriage because it’s a metaphor that our Lord often used to describe the Christian’s relationship with God our Father, meaning there is a covenant relationship between our Father God and ourselves as human beings. God is there for us, and we are there for him, for his delight and his care.

Now let’s suppose the issue between the husband and wife has no quick fix. It’s no good asking why, because why leads to blame and wanting to hold someone to account, which in turn is destructive. A relationship like that becomes one of head-to-head and goes nowhere. What matters more is where the two are in relationship with each other. When an issue is looked at using that platform, there is opportunity for growth, maturing in the relationship, and strengthening of the bonds of marriage. Or if the issue is between you and God, it is the maturing and strengthening of your relationship with him.

So it is more productive, of more value in trauma situations, to ask where am I in relation to those around me, than it is to ask why the situation happened, or why God allowed it, in the first place.

Let’s now turn to what St Paul says his letter to the Philippians about checking in with God and ourselves in times of trauma, anxiety or any other kind of trouble, and I’m particularly interested in verses 4-7 of his chapter 4.

The first thing to note is that Paul stresses God’s nearness. He writes that the Lord is near, close at hand. God is not remote, inaccessible, or otherwise out of reach. This answers the question where, and again it’s the relational question that is point. And because God is close by, accessible, and has created you in his image – which is why we are relational with God – it makes sense that we can bring all our concerns, problems and anxieties to him in prayer.

Paul says that we should not be anxious about any thing, and it is expressed strongly in the Greek. But in every thing, make your requests to God by prayer with thanksgiving, with the result that the peace of God will guard you hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. And that little word “in” is important. We are commanded to remain in Jesus, that all important mysterious point that John makes in his gospel about being in Christ. Then you will get your answer to the question about where God is with you in your particular situation. So how does all this work out in practice?

Stressed and anxious people need to establish a sense of safety, someone with whom they can lament their suffering, to interpret their experiences and acknowledge their memory, so as to not be overwhelmed by them. That person needs to establish confidence in God’s character and care for him. The Apostle Philip asked Jesus, show us the Father, and Jesus’ reply was that if you’ve seen me you’ve seen the Father. In other words, if you want to know what God is like, look at Jesus.

The visible presence of God in Jesus appearing in human history was an historical event that demonstrated the value and dignity the God places on us his images. This reaffirmation of dignity and value is crucial for people who have experienced suffering. Your heavenly Father knows what being a human being is like because Jesus Christ was a human being. God knows pain and death and suffering and betrayal and relational difficulties. You only have to read the story of Jesus life and ministry. Do I know what it is like to go hungry for 40 days and then be severely tested by Satan? Do I know what it is like to have no place to lay my head? Do I know what it is like to be crucified and die in agony? Do I know what it is like to be betrayed to the point of death by a loved one? No, I don’t. But my saviour and my God does. And that is why God is my rock of safety to whom I can go to lament my anxieties and traumas.

It is why I have confidence that God has full empathy for me. He has been through far more than I ever will. Psalm 23 is classic: though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are [where?] with me restoring my soul beside still waters. It’s hugely relational. Why, doesn’t matter; but where does matter.

Now someone will no doubt point out to me Jesus’ cry from the cross, my God my God why have you forsaken me? It sounds like a why question, doesn’t it. But it’s more likely a where question. Father, where are you in my agony, in my death pains? Answer? The Father is in the Son’s resurrection, an historical event verified by those who saw him alive after his crucifixion. The Father could have stepped in and prevented Jesus from experiencing such a horrible death. But then where would we be in relation to God? The outcome of Jesus’ death is his, and ultimately our, resurrection to eternity. That’s where God is. Life can begin again.

When we take up Paul’s invitation to not be anxious about anything but present our requests to God, we will experience a profound transformation that leaves behind some of the enduring impacts of suffering. New meaningful attachments arise, a new self-understanding, relating to others in creative ways. Life can begin again.

An issue in my own life happened some time ago, and after a while I became exhausted asking why. There was no answer and it became a pointless exercise. So I started asking where God was in this. And the answer was clear. He was in my family; he was in this parish’s care of me in those early days; he was in my quiet times of prayer and retreat at St Marks Camperdown. And he is there as the Holy Spirit who comforts and strengthens me in my spirit, and in my experience of his love for me.

God is also in the pages of scripture. St Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 1.3-4: Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our afflictions, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.

Life may be ordinary, but it is by no means meaningless. The prophet Jeremiah wrote of God saying, call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known. And the psalmist wrote, Search me and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there is any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way of everlasting.

There was man who went for a walk on a beach one day, his heart full of sorrow and his head bowed down. He noticed a lonely, single line of footprints in the sand and said to God, where are you? I’m all alone in this. And the answer came, yes there is only one set of footprints, and those were the times when I carried you.

So ask not of God, why, but where?

Philip Starks

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