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

Published under Creative Commons Copyright Licence

Joseph is reconciled with his brothers. Genesis 45

In my reading of the Joseph story, I see it being a story not just about the Jacob family, but about God’s family with God as our father, we as his children, and therefore each other as brothers and sisters. It is as if whoever gathered that story and included it in their writing of Genesis, did so with the aim of making the point that, just as Joseph desired reconciliation with his brothers, so God desires reconciliation with us. And furthermore, the way Joseph went about that is not dissimilar to the way God goes about it with us. Why? Because just as Joseph’s brothers were estranged from him through their sinful actions toward him and their father Jacob, so we, in our unredeemed state, are estranged from our heavenly brother Jesus and our Father God.

So how does it work?

Before I go any further, let me make it clear that the only way the penalty of our sins before God is removed, is through the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ at Calvery. His death is sufficient and acceptable to God the Father, once and for all, so that we do not have to suffer eternal separation from him. And there is nothing we can do about that of our own making. God does it for us. Just as there was nothing the brothers could do to remove the penalty of their sin against Joseph. He had to do it for them.

Joseph had every right to cut them down. His power over them as prime minister of Egypt was absolute. But he didn’t. He loved his brothers and forgave them the moment he set eyes on them. Now while Joseph had already forgiven his brothers, they still had to learn who he was, and the art of re-conciliation and re-communion, if they were all to enjoy that close brotherly fellowship that once was. It is the same with us. True that the penalty of our sins is removed once and for all at Calvery, but we still need to learn the art of re-communion with our heavenly brother and our father God. And that is a process; it does not come naturally to us.

So how does it work?

 First of all, the initiative was Joseph’s. The brothers did not recognize him, and he purposefully kept it that way. Their primary interest, to begin with, was material need of food. Joseph’s primary interest was different. In Genesis 43.27, we read how Joseph asks after his brothers’ shalom, a Jewish word that means a person’s state of wellbeing, prosperity, relations with family and neighbour, and is the outcome of a wise and thoughtful life as God designed it. Shalom is the peace of God that surpasses all understanding. Joseph loves his brothers and seeks that quality of relationship that shalom brings. But to get there with him, they must endure testing to see what is really in their hearts and minds. Are they truly and earnestly repentant? Do they desire shalom with their long-lost brother?

Joseph’s actions, his testing of his brothers, his desire for shalom with them, eventually unlocked their own love for him, which for so long had been incarcerated by jealously and envy. They had to be transformed before their brother could show himself fully for who he was. That is why Joseph did not disclose to them who he was until they were ready. It is the same with ourselves and God. We must be transformed by the metamorphosis of our minds, souls, and hearts before we can be completely restored to God’s shalom. Yes, the penalty of our sins is taken away once and for all by the atoning death of Jesus and his resurrection, but we are not there yet. And if that means we must endure a time of trial, a time of going through the refiner’s fire – as it were – then so be it. God will permit that, even though at the time we doubt it being his will. We must pray about it, submit, and persevere.

It is a bit like two people getting married. Yes, the once and for all ceremony declares them married, but that is just the beginning, isn’t it. The journey towards marital shalom begins and continues until husband and wife are able to stand fully and selflessly disclosed in the peace of each other’s presence.

The psalms, such as 17 and 139, contain invitations for God to search hearts and see if there is any wickedness there. The psalmist is willing to become vulnerable to God’s scrutiny and the time of testing that often goes with that. God knows us better than we know ourselves, and he will bring us exactly to where he wants us, though we may not recognize what is happening during the process.

Joseph severely tests his brothers, not out of revenge or malice, but out of love for them. They had to confront their past and deal with it before their hearts could be transformed. Joseph is proceeding along the principle that real connectedness between people lies not in the mind, but in the felt experience of the heart. Psalm 139 is seminal here, and I encourage you to read it slowly and carefully. So Joseph searches and tests his brothers by examining their reaction to a situation in which he places them, not dissimilar to the one in which they placed him all those years ago, only this time they are in his power. They are forced to confront the question of what they are about. Are they truly repentant about what they did to Joseph? How transformed have they become over the years? And do they truly honour their father Jacob, whereas before they lied to him and covered up their sin?

It is the same with us and God. Sin alienates us from God, and we cannot enjoy full fellowship with him because of it. And even though the atoning death of Jesus removes its penalty and declares us forgiven, there is still work to do before our heavenly brother steps out into his wonderful light that fully illuminates our lives. Until then, he might remain hidden or even silent. This is God’s loving way to bring us about, to bring us back into fellowship with him. And Jesus used it a number of times during his ministry on earth.

For example, the Syrian woman who cried after Jesus and yet he remained silent, at first, until she came round with that wonderful surrendering statement, yes Lord yet even this little dog is happy with your crumbs. Only then was he fully disclosed to her and her daughter’s illness. And again, on the road to Emmaus with two disciples. Jesus’s identity remained hidden until after they were at table fellowship with him and he broke bread with them. Only then were their eyes opened and they recognized him.

And so Joseph, after searching his brothers’ hearts to see if there was any remining evil towards him or their father Jacob, and how they were with each other, finally discerns the moment to disclose himself to them. I am Joseph whom you sold into slavery. These are not words of comeuppance, but words bathed in the heart of brotherly love. The estranged men once again become Joseph’s brothers. Their shalom with him is restored. Then he kissed all his brothers and wept over them. And afterward his brothers talked with him.

What then did the brothers leave behind?

The brothers leave behind the enduring impact and consequences of their trauma of having sold Joseph into slavery and then lying to their father about it. Now, new meaningful attachments arise. Life can begin again. But that meaning can only be realized by the brothers participating in the whole story. It cannot have happened if they had simply returned to Jacob after their first encounter with Joseph in Egypt and not gone back with Benjamin. Then their sin of abandoning a brother to fate would have been repeated by them leaving Simeon behind in an Egyptian jail.

That is why the grace of Joseph shown towards his brothers (and of God shown towards us sinners) is a transforming power that shines most brightly in the context of restored relationship, and one that can deal with brokenness and sinfulness. And it is transformative love that achieves this; Joseph’s love for his brothers and God’s love for us.

Philip Starks
Published under Creative Commons Copyright Licence

A time to die and a time to live, Romans 6

One of the strongest human needs is that we should belong to someone. Our little Noah is at the stage now where he’s looking around as if to ask, who do I belong to? Who’s my mum? Where’s dad? And if he’s not picked up and held, he cries of insecurity because his basic needs of security and belonging are not being met. In the same way, God desires relationship with us, that we should belong to him, that our security and significance should be found in him. That’s why we are made in the image of God, as it says in Genesis 1.

Human marriage is an earthly reflection, albeit imperfect because of the frailty of human nature, of our covenant relationship with God in eternity. That’s why Jesus used the imagery of marriage, bridegroom, wedding feast, in the stories he told about what the Kingdom of God is like. The intention of earthly marriage is that man and woman belong to each other, just as they each belong to God in relationship. And that is why a relationship with Jesus Christ satisfies the human quest for meaning and a sense of belonging like nothing else can.

Now, the big question is, how? What makes it happen? And this is where this morning’s reading from Romans chapter 6 gives some insights.

Paul writes at length about dying to sin and being raised to a new life, of an old self being let go of in favour of a new self, of being united with Christ in his death so that we can be united with him in his resurrection. What does this mean and where does it take us?

Well, let’s start with a story. One day, a young man full of ambition and desire for self-fulfillment left home with his share of his father’s property. Off he went and lived the good life. After some time it was gone. He was unemployed, homeless, and destitute. Then he came to his senses and realized he was utterly alone in this situation. His longing turned to his father’s house of rest and plenty. So he set off for home. Waiting for him, long before he appeared on the horizon, was his father with welcoming open arms. A new life awaited the young man, no longer lost, homeless, and destitute. Life could begin again.

There are many points to this story, it’s the prodigal son of course, but one of them is that the young man had to turn away from his life of self-living on his own terms before he could return to his father’s house, before he could enjoy the fruits and blessings of where he really belonged. The high life of spending and self-living, in the end, brought him no peace, no security at all, and he didn’t belong to it. It’s a story that Jesus told to highlight the absolute need for those who would be his disciples to turn completely away from their old self-interest and self-living. In fact, they must die to it, as it were, as St Paul puts it.

There is a lot at stake here. The life of Christian discipleship is radical, life-changing and a hard call. How often are we led to believe that Jesus wants to enrich our lives by adding religion to them, some extra spirituality and ethical living perhaps? How often are we led to believe that we can live the Christian life on our own terms? Discipleship would then be an easy matter.

But I ask you, did all the people in the New Testament who came under the power of Jesus Christ look even remotely as if they had merely been enriched by religious experience add-ons? No! They were people for whom the door of their past lives had been slammed shut, and who then saw that they had been set down in a totally new life, different from what they had before. What they had, and what we all experience in Jesus Christ, is no mere extension or addition to our settled and undisturbed lives, but rather a new life before which the old life fades away and is cancelled out.

And so it is when a person comes before the Lord with empty hands, or maybe with a sorrowful heart, or even a sense of being lost and just trying to fit in with everyone else but not really having a true sense of belonging to anyone else. That person stands before Jesus alone. All predispositions, ego traits, and diet of self-living are exposed for what they are in the presence of a holy and loving God. And it takes courage to allow these dark recesses of our former lives to be illuminated by the bright light of the Son of God. Jesus waits, calls, and invites us to come. Taste and see that the Lord is good, that the Lord is slow to anger and full of compassion, that he is like a father waiting for his wayward children to return.

Now, someone is bound to put their hand up and challenge these points about dying to self, setting aside the old life so that the new can come. Does that mean we have to somehow deconstruct our familiar old selves, or to despise how God has made us? Is it not also written that we should love our neighbours as we love ourselves? How might this square up?

Well, yes, we should love ourselves as God intended us to be, so that we can love our neighbours. And that’s the key point: it is as God intended us to be, as God intended us to belong to him, and not to the unbelieving, unregenerate world that stands in opposition to God through sin, through refusing him, and merely fitting in to its own schemes on its own terms. But when a person belongs, that requires vulnerability and commitment to whom you belong, forsaking all others. And here again the language of marriage is apt. For the person who belongs to Christ, the power of sin is broken; slavery to old ways of self-serving is no more, and that person is free to be who they are as God intended them to be.

Perhaps another illustration would help. Young person, let’s call him Greg, gets caught in the drug or alcohol scene. Greg can’t help himself; he lives for it and it rules his life. He becomes a slave to the unredeemed world of drink and drugs. Then one day Greg wakes up under the local railway bridge, cries out that he’s had enough of it, and turns away from an awful life of self-indulgence and self-pity.

In rehab, Greg is offered the opportunity of transformation by the renewing of his mind, body and soul. No longer is he lost and enslaved to his old life. Greg leaves rehab born again, as it were. Life can begin again, and it’s a quality of life far superior to his old one. Greg has a family to belong to, rather than just trying to fit in to the old crowd who never really cared about him anyway.

And so it is with those who turn to Christ and die to their old ways of living for self. Life can begin again, and it’s a quality of life far superior to the old. With God at your side anything is possible. You are free to be who the good Lord above intended you to be. And by the power of the Holy Spirit, you will be transformed into one who loves God, neighbour, and yourself.

So, the invitation this morning, for those who may be visitors listening in, is to come, taste and see that the Lord is indeed good, and be willing to allow his light to shine in the shadows of your life so that they too can be transformed into his likeness. Listen to these words from psalm 94: The righteous will flourish like a palm tree planted in the house of the Lord. They will flourish in the courts of our God. They will bear fruit in old age. They will stay fresh and green, proclaiming the Lord is upright; he is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in him. There is indeed a time to die and a time to live.

For us who are Christian believers, dying to self, dying to sin, and living for Christ is a command. We must put aside whatever comes between us and our relationship with God, forsaking all others, and we have to do it daily. Why? Because our enemy prowls around looking for a way to drag us back into a life of self-serving, wallowing in the world. And it is all too easy. He will turn the screws, as it were, a little bit at a time, and then a little bit at a time. At first not noticeable, but then one day we realize what’s been happening, and we cry out, save me Lord. And that’s why we Christian believers need to spend daily time with God in prayer, confession and vigilance.

There is indeed a time to die and a time to live. Life can begin again.

Philip Starks
Published under Creative Commons Copyright Licence

Hallmarks of a good shepherd. 1 Peter 5

What might we say on the matter of church leadership, its style and qualities? 

What does the Apostle Peter in chapter five of his first letter to the Christians in Rome say about it? He says church leaders should be like shepherds in their leadership. It was not a style readily recognised by Roman society of the day, which saw leadership as enforced power politic by the elite classes of society. And neither is it a style readily recognised in our own day, with much of its emphasis on leadership as being out in front, career driven, competition, and little time for those who don’t perform. So where is Peter coming from in his understanding of leadership as a shepherd? 

Recall what happened between Peter and Jesus on the night Jesus was betrayed. Peter denied knowing the Lord three times, not because he was competing with Jesus for followers, or out of a sense of egotistical promotion of self, but out of fear. Fear that the authorities were rounding up Jesus’ followers and he would be next on a cross. And his fearful denial led to shame and sorrow. We are told he wept bitterly. 

Now recall the exchange that took place between Peter and Jesus during one of Jesus’s post-resurrection appearances. He asked Peter, do you love me? Three times, do you love me. And three times Peter said yes. Now at that point, Jesus could have said something like, then why did you deny me three times? Told Peter off. Condemned him even. But he didn’t. Peter was re-commissioned: feed by sheep. It’s clear that Jesus brings forth the principle that perfect love drives out fear, and that there is no condemnation for those who remain in Christ, that all mysterious “in Christ” that Paul so often uses to express the deep personal relationship that binds the believer with Christ. 

So Peter’s understanding of Christian leadership is coming from his own experience of Christ being the good shepherd towards him. As his Lord forgave, loved, served, and washed his feet as his master, so Peter in turn exhorts his readers in Rome, and by extension us, to follow the same principle and example. It’s not a style recognised by the social structures of today. A leader being a servant, washing feet, forgiving the fearful when they fail? Try putting that in your resume next time you apply for a leadership role in business. But that’s what a Christian leader is called to do. Perhaps we could encapsulate the heart of a church leader to have its genesis in these words from Psalm 130: Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord. Lord, hear my voice. 

Now it occurs to me that these words reveal two insights about being a good shepherd. The first is, Lord hear my voice. 

Our chief shepherd said, my sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand. So if ministers of our master’s church are not training the people under their care to recognise their master’s voice, then I would ask why not? Are they the good shepherds that Peter, in his letter, is commanding them to be? How do you recognise the master’s voice? How are you being trained and encouraged to recognise it? 

Jesus Christ is mankind’s greatest need. John’s gospel is replete with Jesus’ sayings to effect that only he can answer our greatest need: verses like, I am the bread of life; he who believes in me will never be thirsty. None of the founders of religious movements said this. They all said, do this, do that, follow such and such a method. But none of them said, you want eternal life? Then you come to me and I will give it to you. Peter recognised that Jesus meets mankind’s greatest need when he said, Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God. 

The second insight of being a good shepherd is, out of the depths I cry to you, Lord. 

Remember Peter’s experience in weeping bitterly after he denied Christ. Out of the depths he cried out. Peter knows what it is to suffer, to mourn, and to be weak. Therefore he has a heart for those who are going through the same bleak journey. That’s the thrust of his first letter to the Christians in Rome. They are under severe persecution because they refused to participate in emperor worship, and that meant they were traitors in the eyes of the authorities. 

Shepherds of the flock let the suffering, the weak, the powerless, and the anxious come to them. Why? Because they heard their master’s voice say, come to me all who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Shepherds of the flock give those who are seeking a connection a space to come. Shepherds of the flock give those seeking a connection words of affirmation and acts of service, two of the five love languages you may have heard about. And it’s out of these that the Christian mission for evangelism and social justice come. 

Evangelism because we have a wonderful story to tell. We are witnesses to what Christ has done for us, and we want people to have what we’ve got. And social justice because Jesus bids all who are heavy laden to come to him. He also taught blessed are those who mourn, blessed are the persecuted, and you know the rest from his sermon on the Mount. 

Christian social justice follows because God cares, and it matters not whether we are Anglican, Catholic, Uniting, Baptist, Lutheran or whatever. We are all one in Christ. We all have a heart for the heavy laden, for those who are sorrowful, for the persecuted. 

But getting back to the second insight of what makes a good shepherd, out of the depths I cry to you, Lord. Good shepherds are called upon to walk with those who cry out. The reasons for suffering are not always known, but one reason is the metamorphosis of our fallen nature into a nature of faith and trust. 

If faith is genuine, it will persevere under trial and it will set itself up for the long haul. Non-genuine faith will look for the path of least resistance to escape. Jewellers know that a genuine diamond placed in water sparkles brilliantly, whereas the sparkle of the imitation is practically extinguished. Likewise, the faith of many people under the water of sorrow or affliction is nothing but an imitation. But when a true child of God is immersed in a trial, he or she will shine as brilliantly as ever.

 Good shepherds must always point the people under their care to the great message of Christian hope, which as the letter to Hebrews points out, we do not have a high priest (that is Christ) who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are – yet is without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. 

So if you can accept trials and go through them until the end, knowing that the end is not despair but a new hope, and not withdraw into self-reliance, then you have learned to say not my will be done, but yours be done. In Christ, brokenness becomes the context for hope, not despair.

 So then, to sum up. At the end of John’s gospel, Jesus asks Peter three times, do you love me? Answer is yes, then feed my sheep. Jesus’ greatest concern is that people be told the truth about himself, and he wants to ensure that his apostles do just that. Peter is remembering Jesus’ words to him as he writes to his fellow elders (church leaders) and commands them to be godly shepherds feeding the Lord’s people. And that means teaching the truth and pointing people to the one who is alive for eternity.

Philip Starks

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The rising of Lazarus. John 11

The Third Calling

I’m reading a book at the moment called The Third Calling. It’s about how you might consider what to do with your retirement years, something I’ll soon have to consider myself. The first calling is school years and youth, the second calling is family and working life. It’s an interesting way of approaching the retirement years and how to discern what to do with them.

Perhaps I could re-think what Third Calling means in terms of relationship with God. Third calling comes later in life, perhaps under a special circumstance, and not necessary in retirement. I think of St Paul’s third calling to be his Damascus Road experience, a very special circumstance indeed when he heard the Lord Jesus calling him to apostleship. In Lazarus’s case, his third calling would be his being raised from death, literally being called from the dead.

The raising of Lazarus from death was a stupendous miracle. Think about it for a moment. He was in his grave for 4 days. Well and truly dead. Decomposition had started to set in. The two sisters lamented that Jesus had apparently missed the opportunity to heal their brother while he was still alive. Mary and Martha both said when they first met up with Jesus after he arrived, Lord if you’d been here our brother would not have died. A quite understandable lament. Jesus was not in the right place at the right time and has missed the opportunity to meet their needs, place and time being the key words.

How often do we expect God to be in the right place at the right time when we need him? And when he’s not there, he’s failed. He’s let us down, or so it seems. Where was God when I needed him during two years of near unemployment? Why wasn’t he in the right place at the right time to help me out? And towards the end of those two years, I really started to dwell on the possibility that God was leaving me on the shelf.

A friend of mine said about those years, has it occurred to you that God may have wanted you to have that time without much work? No, it hadn’t occurred to me. And neither did it occur to me that my occasional temporary agency assignments were preparing me for the long-haul job I’ve got now. When I got to the interview, I was exactly who they were looking for at the right time.

We can’t think beyond time and place. And it’s on this point that Jesus teaches Mary and Martha, and us through John’s recounting of the story.

God is not limited by time and place the way are, and death is not the ultimate end we think it is. So Jesus says to Martha, your brother will rise again, and she says yes that’s right, on the last day of history. But she still hasn’t got it! She, like us, is still thinking in terms of time, place, and history. And Jesus, in his response to that with those immortal words, I am the resurrection and the life, is telling her, stop thinking time and place, think me. You need to keep focused on me, and then you will understand death and life in its proper order.

Times of trial are not the end of the story. Mary and Martha’s loss was overturned when their brother was restored to them from the grave; the disciple’s fear after seeing Jesus crucified and buried was turned into joy and confidence when they saw him risen and alive on the third day afterwards. And even if we don’t see the resolution to trials in this life, we have these words from the book of Revelation that in the new life when our calling at the end of the age happens, there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things will have passed away.

Now this statement by Jesus, I am the resurrection and the life, he who believes in me will live, even though he dies, is the key point the John wants his readers to get. It is an astonishing and forceful claim. John uses what is called the emphatic I in Greek. I, me, am the resurrection and the life. No one else, and anyone who believes this, to him I have the power and authority to give eternal life. Forget the gurus and philosophers. They can’t give you eternity after your earthly life has finished. But you’ve got to turn to Jesus in belief first, personal trust first in what is unseen. That’s why Jesus said to Mary, if you believe, then you will see the glory of God. What you see in this age is not the be all and end all of human existence. Remember, God works in and beyond space and time.

For unbelievers, physical death is thought of as the end. But not so for those who believe and trust that Jesus Christ is the Son of God to whom all authority in heaven and on earth has been given. For that one, physical death is not the important thing. Death is but a gateway to further life and fellowship with God into eternity, beyond space and time. And you can have that life now. It starts in this life and continues past our earthy remains.

Now, Lazarus was raised to continue his earthly life, and at some point later he would have died (hopefully) of natural causes. But the miracle was a sign, or a demonstration, that pointed those who saw it to a greater and permanent reality: the raising of the faithful departed at the end of the age, and no doubt Lazarus will himself be included in that when all things will be brought to their conclusion.

Note the position of the story in the Gospel, just before the last week of Jesus’ life. Why is that significant? Because John is preparing his readers to encounter the master’s own death and resurrection story, the one that really counts. Lazarus was raised back to a life in time which means he would die again. John is saying, here is a story of a life raised, albeit in time, and if you can grasp that, ok. But there shortly follows a story of a resurrection of much greater significance for you and me, one which we should pay close attention to.

Now John records that Jesus called in a loud voice “Lazarus, come out!” and the dead man came out.

Note particularly the words John uses to describe the manner of Jesus’ calling Lazarus out. English tends to lose the intensity of Jesus’ voice. It’s not, Oi Lazarus listen up, like a warrant officer on the parade ground. No. It is a great, all powerful, gut felt crying out. It is the all-powerful voice of God calling forth the dead. And it is a sign of things to come at the end of history. The same reminder of things to come at the end of time is found in 5:25.

I tell you the truth, a time is coming and has now come when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live. ²⁶ For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son to have life in himself. ²⁷ And he has given him authority to judge because he is the Son of Man.

For those who heard Jesus calling Lazarus with such power and authority, it must have been an incredible experience. There’s no wonder it was remembered, talked about, and written down.

The great and powerful voice of Jesus will be heard on the last day, by both the dead and those who will still be living in their earthly time. Even you, in person, by your name, will be called forth on that day. And when that is heard by those who remained faithful during their lives in time, the bonds of death will be broken for evermore. Just like Christ’s were on his day of resurrection.

Take off the grave clothes and let him go.

Ladies and gentlemen, Jesus said to his disciples at the end of his time on earth, between his rising from death and his ascension back to his Father, all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. He has the keys to our eternal lives, and we need to take that very seriously. As the psalmist put it, today, if only you would hear his voice. Do not harden your hearts. And as the voice of the Father himself said during the Son’s transfiguration, this is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased. Listen to him!

Now let’s return to this idea of the Third Calling.

The third calling may be thought of as being the call of God to his faithful ones, be that in eternity calling forth those have completed their lives on earth, or for us still living in time. It may be the call of God to a deeper fellowship with him in whatever way, shape or form that takes. The book I’m reading advocates a discerning process about how to spend one’s retirement years productively. And that same idea can be taken into the third calling of our earthly Christian lives.

As it is written in the Prophet Isaiah, then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, whom shall I send? And who will go for us? How should we discern what God may have to say to us in our third calling? What form might that take? What has God gifted us with to use for the advancement of his Kingdom? What contribution can each of us make to our parish’s outreach? Here I am, send me.

Whatever it may be, our earthly third calling will prepare us to hear the Lord’s voice on the last day. That great and powerful cry bringing the faithful into eternal life. So make the most of every opportunity while you still have life on earth. Forget what is behind, strain forwards to what is ahead, and press on towards the goal of your third calling.

Philip Starks

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Every jot of the law. Matthew 5

I felt led this week to tackle the gospel reading. It’s not an easy reading, but it’s very relevant to the question of discipleship, which each and every one of us needs to consider as we grow in our relationship with Jesus Christ and reach out to the community around us who don’t know such a relationship.

As the writer of psalm 36 begins, I have a message from God in my heart concerning the sinfulness of the wicked: there is no fear of God before their eyes. In other words, they have no sense of God’s holiness, his awesome power and love, and his sovereignty over all that exists.

The other week my wife and I were sitting in Werribee Plaza shopping centre eating lunch while watching the crowds passing by, and I commented that those people look like they have everything they need. They have money in their wallets, their shopping bags are full, and they look very content with that. Australia is a country of plenty. We have a welfare system that looks after you from cradle to grave; a publicly funded health system in Medicare; an extremely stable political system that enjoys democratic choice with a peaceful transition of power each time a new government is chosen. It’s a land of plenty that many people in other countries can only dream of. And yet the crowds of shoppers in Werribee Plaza seemed to take it all in their stride for granted. Why would they need God?

Let me unpack this morning’s readings which I think shed some light on this question. They are examples illustrating the second half of last week’s gospel reading about the law.

If you recall, Jesus is teaching his listeners that he has not come to abolish the law but to fulfil it. In fact, not one letter of the law will pass away until everything is accomplished, and anyone who breaks them will be called least in the Kingdom of Heaven. And further still he says that unless our righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and teachers of the law, we will certainly not enter the Kingdom of Heaven. It’s very forcefully put. Then he goes on to give several examples of how tight the requirements of the law really are. And yet, along comes St Paul, who writes that a person is brought into a right relationship with God by faith and grace, and not by the law. Is there a contradiction between what Jesus teaches and what St Paul writes about? Well, no there isn’t. And we see that in St Paul’s encounter with the risen Christ on the road to Damascus. Let me explain.

Paul (or Saul as he was known up to that point) was confronted by the most holy and perfect divine Christ, Son of God, who said to him, Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? To which Saul could do nothing but collapse to the ground and cry out, Lord who are you? In that moment, Saul saw himself in the light of the divine presence as the Pharisee that he was, full of his own righteousness which he obtained through legalistic obedience to the law. He looked into the eyes of the divine one and faced the question that everyone must face: what do I look like in the light of the law; and if I must see myself like that (even for a moment), what do I look like in God’s eyes?

The same kind of confrontation with the divine presence was experienced by St Peter when he witnessed the miraculous catch of fish in Luke chapter 5. He said, go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man. And again, the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet in Luke chapter 7. She approached Jesus, weeping with sorrow over her past life.

In other words, by making clear the demands of the law, Jesus is saying this is what the person who turns away from God, who rejects him, who says to God, no thankyou I don’t want you, looks like in God’s eyes. To that person, the law applies in the strictest way. Why? Because God is holy in the most perfect way, and sin has no place whatsoever in his eyes. And so the crowds of shoppers pass by totally oblivious to their need of God’s mercy and forgiveness so that they can enter into a right relationship with him by his righteousness, not their own. What they most likely want is a god who is loving and forgiving (and yes God is a god of love and forgiveness), but they don’t want a god who is also holy and transcendent, which God is.

However, suppose one of those shoppers has an experience of God’s presence in whatever way, shape or form that may take. It is almost certain that shopper will recognize themselves for what their old selves are. They will look into those perfect eyes and instantly understand their own unworthiness and uncleanness. Just as Peter did when he saw Jesus’ miracle; just as the sinful woman did when she anointed Jesus’ feet; just as Paul did when he collapsed on the ground in front of the risen and glorified Lord. That is when a person reaches their turning point, to leave their old ways behind and walk towards the new. That is the point when Jesus can step out of the shadows and obscurity of one’s old life and into the broad sunlight of a new life. Rise repentant one, your faith has saved you.

Without this encounter and the recognition it brings of what one’s old life looks like in God’s eyes, there is no peace for the worldling, only anxiety and fear and the constant search for a narcotic to dull that, like shopping sprees for example, or long nights out with the boys or girls, or workaholism. But when a person reaches out to God in genuine sorrow and repentance, the peace of God which passes all understanding sets that person free like nothing else can. That’s why Jesus said come to me all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
You see ladies and gentlemen, it may well be that God has to show you to be a slave to whatever your own righteousness is in your eyes, until you recognize yourself as such. Only then can the eyes of your heart open to his wonderful saving grace. Rise up, your faith has saved you.

How is this so? Because God loves the broken hearted and the poor in spirit who have no illusions about their poor state as they stand before the face of God. Just like the tax collector in the story Jesus told. Remember? In the temple he couldn’t lift his eyes to heaven, but said with eyes cast down, God be merciful to me a sinner. And he was the one who went home justified, a new friend of God. Unlike the Pharisee who gave thanks that he wasn’t like the poor wretched tax collector.

You see, there is a danger of being too sure of forgiveness before a person has seen what their old selves, that say no to God, are. We might say, God will pardon me because it is his trade, thinking we can be quite assured that at the right moment God will do his duty to our satisfaction. Then we are taking grace for granted. You can’t have it cheap.

But when we reach our turning point and we see ourselves in the light of God’s holy presence, and we cry out for him to be merciful to us, then our hearts of sorrow become our accuser and the mercy of God becomes our defender. What a tremendous thing this is! What God does is to take me into his protective custody by setting me down at the foot of the cross. There I am secure. Fear and anxiety need not assail me. I am set free from the guilt of past things done and not done, and whatever my past has been, I have a spotless future. It is a whole new ball game. This is the reason we need God. This is the spark that will light us up to say to God, yes please.

Because God reaches out to me with his love in this way, because his heart beats for me as he comes to meet me at the foot of the cross, that’s why (and the only reason why) I can love him in return. Now I can fulfil the whole law, every dot of it. For after all, is not love the fulfillment of the law? As Jesus said when he was asked which of the comments is the most important, the whole law is summed up by loving God first, and then loving neighbour.

 
Come to Jesus all you who are burdened with worry and anxiety, fear or depression, shame and guilt, and he will give you rest for your souls. I ask only that I dwell in the house of the Lord, for there my soul is satisfied with the peace of God that passes all understanding.

Philip Starks

Published under Creative Commons Copyright Licence