Jesus lament over Jerusalem. Luke 13 Matthew 23

God’s distress over his people and the role of lament in Christian living.

Aw, there there. Look on the bright side of things. It’s not so bad. How about a nice hot cup of tea to calm the nerves? The last thing I want to hear when I’m in distress is how about a nice cuppa tea. O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often have I longed to gather you as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. But you are not willing. Look, your house is desolate. How about a nice cuppa tea? That doesn’t make the suffer feel good at all. But it does let the observer avoid an uncomfortable moment. Is that a good response to anyone in distress? Of course not. Jesus isn’t just feeling bad about himself, and the last thing he wants is a cuppa to calm him down. So what is Jesus doing when he laments over Jerusalem?

Notice that Jesus’ words have a direct link to those of the prophets (particularly Isaiah and Jeremiah) who lamented Judah’s lack of faithfulness to their covenant with God, and since the words of the prophets and those of Jesus himself are the words of God, the lament is actually that of God’s distress over his people, and especially over Jerusalem, the City of God, the seat of his presence with his people.

Jesus’ lament gives voice to his desire for justice and the making of things right between man and God. God has a covenant relationship with his people, not a simple transactional relationship. A covenant relationship goes deep, and so it is out of the depths of God’s heart, a heart filled with pain, that God laments.

Now what’s this about God’s heart is filled with pain? Well there are innumerable places in the bible that talk about God’s love for his world and his people, particularly in the writings of John. For example in his first letter, John writes, how great is the love the Father has lavished on us that we should be called Children of God. And in another place he writes that God is love. It’s God’s very nature to be the divine one who loves. So when people turn away from him, that one who loves is grieved, as the writer of Genesis put it, the Lord saw how great man’s wickedness on the earth had become. And the Lord grieved and his heart was filled with pain. That’s what Jesus, as God in person with us on earth, is lamenting. To lament is to taste the tears of God.

Jesus’ love for the world is deep, as we are reminded in the song, “how deep the Father’s love for us, how vast beyond all measure. How great the pain of searing loss, the Father turns his face away, as wounds which mar the chosen one bring many sons to glory”. We also see Jesus’ grief and anguish for the world when he visits the garden of Gethsemane the night before he died. Luke describes that experience being to the point of sweating drops of blood. So intense is his love and therefore his grief over what must be done. But notice that when all is said and done within that experience, Jesus hands the situation over to his Father, not my will be done but yours. In other words, Jesus is able to relinquish his circumstances and his grief over the world only after the struggle of lament and petition is done.

And I think it is the same for us when we are in the midst of a lament of affliction. That is to say, we are crying out to God in times of need, be that for ourselves or others. When we have given voice to our feelings and desires for justice, help, or relief for whatever situation we are in, when we have struggled with that, when we have turned to God with that, then we find ourselves free and able to relinquish it all to him and find that peace with him that passes all understanding.

Lament is a very powerful expression of empathy. Empathy being the way one comes alongside another in times of trouble. And it’s not to say, there there have a nice cuppa tea. Empathy of course is part and parcel of one’s emotional intelligence. It is sensitivity to another’s feelings and concerns. It is taking the perspective of where the other is at. But with lament for another, you are going further. You are coming alongside another person in a deeper way, wanting to share their feelings and concerns to the point where they cause you distress on behalf of that other.

Lament is also a very powerful form of intercessory prayer, because it brings before God the suffering and afflictions of others for whom you are greatly concerned. It allows the language of affliction to be expressed. It enables us to stand in the breach, as it were, lamenting for them and with them. The psalms are replete with examples of this, a treasure trove. They are the Hebrew prayer book.

Lament is a legitimate part of our Christian faith. It gives proper expression of anguish and desire for restoration of relationship. That’s why our expression of remorse for sin brings sorrow. We are expressing our desire for restoration of relationship with our heavenly Father, are we not? And that’s why confession has such an important place in our spiritual lives. To confess is to seek restoration. A soul that cannot express itself in lament and confession is a soul in exile. And I can’t imagine anything so awful as a soul in anguish because it is not reconciled with its creator, the Father in heaven.

Now we, in our western church, have a problem with lament. In our church lives, lament has almost disappeared in favour of praise worship, although we do have confession in the lead up to the Eucharist. But we forget that there is a time to weep and time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance. And just as we are called to confess sins, so we can be called to lament. It is a cry for deliverance, a cry of empathy, a cry for justice, and an acknowledgment that we have been damaged by the sins of others.

Lament has a very valid place in worship, and we would do well to factor it in to our Sunday times, and indeed in to our daily quiet times. The psalms of lament are a wonderful trove and expression of prayer in response to suffering. That’s why there are provided for us. They teach us to pray; they enable us to give voice to our difficulties before the Lord. That’s one reason why the Benedictines use them extensively in the daily office. It is the “work of God” as St Benedict put it. The monks and nuns are praying for the world; they are lamenting its situation and bringing it before God.

So, suppose we have an altar call where any of us can approach the Lord’s table and lament for some situation or someone? Suppose we cry out and raise our hands and voices? Or throw dust in the air? What do you think Ash Wednesday is about when we are marked with the sign of a cross in ash on our foreheads? Or will it be an uncomfortable moment where we just want to say a quiet prayer and leave it at that?

We need to see God’s faithfulness afresh, but we won’t if we bottle up our hurts, anguish and concerns, or pretend they don’t exist. They do. We need to lay our inner trials and concerns for others before the one who can change both them and us. And in doing so, we will be taken into a deeper, growing trust in God.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Just one other point before I finish. Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem is not only sorrow for the lost people of Israel, it’s also a prophetic cry for justice. Remember, God is holy and you cannot turn away from him and expect all will be well. It doesn’t work like that. Jesus knew that all too well because he knew what closed hearts mankind has, and the house of Israel was no exception. That’s why he said look your house is desolate, and you will not see me again until you say, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.

That’s why we Christians need to engage in lament for a lost world. Its house is desolate, and it won’t see God until it says blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. And it won’t say that unless we show it what the name of the Lord is. Hence our empathic entering into the lost world for its sake, and because God is love and his heart is filled with pain, and because Jesus grieved in Gethsemane, and because he went to the cross for that lost world so that one day it will say blessed is he who comes.

Philip Starks
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The Transfiguration. Matthew 17 Luke 9 Mark 9

The Divine Encounter

Who do people say I am? Some say I’m a librarian, others say a musician. But who do you say I am? That question is best answered, not by giving a resume of what occupies my time - librarian, musician - but by relating stories of the milestones that have shaped me personally and formed me spiritually. Peter, James and John, who became the leading apostles of the early church, also had their spiritual and personal formation shaped by milestone experiences, one of which was the transfiguration of Jesus in their presence.

Now what do people say the transfiguration was? Some say it was a vision, others say an illusion. But what do you say the transfiguration was? Any serious student of the gospel accounts will recognise that Matthew, Mark and Luke have recorded a time when Christ’s divine nature was shown to Peter, James and John for what it was. The bible describes the event as a complete and thorough transformation real in space and time, not a vision or an illusion. And in Matthew’s version, a moment is recorded when Jesus had to come over and touch the three disciples during the experience to reassure them that what was happening was very real indeed. A vision or an illusion can’t come over and physically touch you.

In the course of human history, Jesus was unique; two natures in one person, a mysterious union that we can never fully understand. And since his nature in person was unique, so was his transfiguration. No other figure in human history has ever been, and will ever be, shown in real space and time to be fully human yet fully divine, accompanied by a clear audible testimony from God the Father. This is my son whom I love. With him I am well pleased. Listen to him. That’s the point the gospel writers are making in their re-telling of the story. They want their readers – and that means us today - to understand just who Jesus actually was.

How did the experience contribute to the spiritual formation of Peter, James and John? James never wrote anything about it, but Peter and John did. Here’s what Peter wrote in his second letter. We did not follow cleverly invented myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus, but we were eyewitness of his majesty. For he received honour and glory from God the Father when the voice was spoken to him by the majestic glory saying ‘This is my Son whom I love, with whom I am well pleased. We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven while were with him on the sacred mountain. And here’s what John wrote about it at the beginning of his gospel. The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

Both writers are emphasizing their role as eyewitnesses to the full nature of Jesus the Son of God. They were to become the leading apostles of the early church, and a primary function of their ministry was to bear eyewitness testimony to who Jesus actually was. And we might also include here St Paul’s experience of the glorious risen Jesus the Son of God on the road to Damascus. Definitely a milestone experience in Paul’s life that totally transformed him from radical persecutor of Jesus to radical evangelist and apostle, and whose primary function was also to bear eyewitness to who Jesus was, is, and always will be.

Peter, James and John spent an extraordinarily special time alone with the Son of God high on a mountain away from the madding crowd of the anxious world below. It shaped them personally because the divine encounter showed them that God is a god of self-disclosure by his own choice, and therefore is he is the god who risks.

God is a lover who seeks a response from us, his loved ones. Therefore it is necessary for God to disclose himself to us. How can a love response relationship exist unless each side is prepared to open themselves up to the other. God is open to being delighted or grieved, depending on the response he gets from us. Our love for God is fickle because we are imperfect human beings. But God’s love for us is perfect and constant; it is not occasional or depends on God’s mood. That is why we can depend on it. And we must learn to depend on it, learn to not seek our own way, learn through prayer and soaking ourselves in his word.

We have a choice; we can accept or refuse God’s love for us. And the risk God takes in disclosing himself, in offering us the opportunity for a relationship with him, is that we will choose to say no. When a person refuses God’s presence, or attempts to replace it with something else, the human condition suffers. If we do not soak ourselves in the peace of God by spending time alone in prayer and presence with him, we begin to suffer from What If disease, otherwise known as anxiety. A craving for meaning of life sets in, and we fill it with anything and everything we hope will satisfy the god shaped hole within us, but it never does. When you push God out the door of your life, the ghosts of worry climb in through the windows.

Those who inoculate themselves against God with everything else under the sun are constantly anxious for the next dose of soul satisfaction. But what if it is all taken away from you one day? What then becomes of your meaning of life? Who then do you say that you are? The answer is summed up in the words of St Paul’s sermon to the Athenians, In God we live and move and have our very being. It’s that yearning for God which cannot be satisfied outside of a relationship with him, whether people recognize it or not. 

We can’t all experience mountain top appearances, Damascus Road conversions, or hear God as an audible voice. God forms each one of us as he chooses. But it occurs to me that a common factor among all who God chooses to shape and form for purpose is their spending time alone with him. It was for Peter, James and John on that high place. It was for Jesus himself when he spent 40 days in the Judean desert entirely alone with his Father, preparing for his ministry to mankind and the extreme suffering he had to bear for our sake.

And so it is with us and the What Ifs of everyday life, the distractions, temptations and demands of the daily routine. Time alone with God is to me an essential ingredient in spiritual formation and the maturing of my relationship with him. With God I learn to look at my anxieties and What Ifs and say to them, the Lord watches over my going out and my coming in; the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

As we move through this season of Lent, I would encourage you to reflect on what the milestones of your journey with God are, and how they have formed you in your relationship with God. Consider also the opening verse of psalm 121. If we take our eyes off the transfigured Lord on the mountain and look to other mountains, then the mundane, the ordinary and the what ifs will find us and strike us. So let us keep our eyes on the risen, glorified and transfigured Christ, and he will indeed keep watch and guard over us.

Philip Starks

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Aslan is not a tame lion. Luke 2

Christmas day

Away in a manger no crib for a bed,

The little Lord Jesus lays down his sweet head.

The stars in the bright sky look down where he lay,

The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.

Isn’t it lovely? Nice cute little baby, warm soft nativity scene, peace and quiet, takes me back to a Christmas eve in England one year. Dad came home from work and it was dark outside and snowing heavily. But inside the central heating was on, mum had dinner ready, and we kids couldn’t wait for the morrow. It was idyllic, picture postcard stuff.

Well every year we all look forward to celebrating the birth of the Christ child. The story is retold and retold in soft colours, quiet carols playing in the background, and the smell of roast dinner wafting through our houses (unless it’s a stinking hot Australian summer’s day in which case it’ll be the smell of cold chicken, salad and beer). And it’s good to celebrate the coming of our Lord; it’s right and proper for us to do so.

But it does occur to me that our traditional view of Christmas has become rather domesticated, fuelled by relentless commercialism and the festive mood of the holiday season. Now while there’s nothing wrong with the mood of a festive holiday season, I think the traditional view of Christmas has long lost sight of how it actually was 2000 years ago, and the significance of it in terms of who God is, what he has done, and how we are to respond. So I want to pick up the thought that Christmas could be less a holiday for us Christians and more a holyday. And it’s a holyday that should not be taken lightly.

On the one hand, Christmas is a time for refreshment, restoration and re-creation, but on the other hand, for me it is just as solemn an occasion as Good Friday and Easter, the other principle Christian time of observance. Why? Because without Christmas there would have been no Good Friday, and without Good Friday there could have been no Easter, and without Easter there is no hope of eternal life for any of us. So I want to suggest to you this morning another aspect of Christmas to think about. My thoughts come from two points: Psalm 97, and something Mr Tumnus said to Lucy in the Narnia stories of C.S. Lewis.

The original Christmas night and the months afterwards could not have been more difficult for the holy family with Mary heavily pregnant riding on a mule all the way from Nazareth to Bethlehem, which was a three-day journey. Now ladies, can you imagine being nearly nine months pregnant bouncing up and down on a mule along hot and dusty roads for three days? And when you finally arrive in town every where’s booked out! Plus, for the first-time mother there’s the risk of unknown complications with no medical assistance on hand, except perhaps a few helping hands from older women who may have been nearby at the time. Mary could not have had an easy time, and she would have been a tough young lady to have coped with it. The infant Jesus didn’t have an easy time either, because two years later Herod heard someone had been born to take over his kingdom, and he wasn’t about to let that go unchallenged.

On many a Christmas morning we get the story of three wise men visiting the baby with expensive gifts, but how often do we get the story of how Herod set about killing all baby boys under two years old in his attempts to get rid of the rival king because those three wise men had told him why they’d come visiting. (Not very politically astute of them to inform the Roman puppet king that you’ve come to worship his replacement). And so the holy family had to flee for their lives into Egypt, and only after Herod died was it was safe for them to return. Thus Jesus was born under difficult circumstances into a hostile world.

Now, back to where my two main points of thought have come from: Psalm 97 is the appointed psalm for Christmas morning this year. It starts off “The Lord is king! Let the earth rejoice; let the many coastlands be glad.” And rightly so, the Lord is indeed king, born to us this day. But the next four verses remind us that the baby king’s reign is not going to be a nice soft cuddly one. What does it say?

Clouds and thick darkness are all around him; righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne.

Fire goes out before him, and consumes his adversaries on every side.

His lightnings light up the world; the earth sees and trembles.

 Why are we given this psalm on a day when traditionally we celebrate all things soft, warm, glowing and peaceful? Well I want to suggest to you that those who decided Psalm 97 be included in the readings for Christmas day are telling us that there is an untamed side to the Christmas coin. Not only was Jesus born under difficult circumstances into a hostile world, he was born to carry the toughest most extreme job ever undertaken by a human being; so extreme that only a divine human being would be up to it.

Baby Jesus didn’t stay baby Jesus. He grew up to die for sin in our place so that the world he was born into might be reconciled with God. God in Christ substituting himself to face judgement where man ought to, because man has substituted himself for God where man ought not to. That is the essence of sin. And it’s a very merciful and loving God who provided the Christ, born into our world on Christmas eve, to face for us what we could never face on our own, that is, the right and just judgment of sin. And as such, clouds and thick darkness were all around him. Righteousness and justice are indeed the foundation of his throne. Fire does go out before him, and will consume his adversaries on every side. And at the end of time when he returns to our world, his lightnings will very much light up the world and the earth see and tremble. Nothing tame about it. That’s why for the Christian, Christmas is a holyday to be taken soberly and seriously.

We’ve largely turned the night when the Christ child came into our world into Christmas for kids and the family gathering dreaming of a white Christmas; very domesticated. Now don’t get me wrong here, I’m not against involving children participating in re-enactments of the nativity, or families re-uniting at end of year festive seasons. It’s good that we teach children what happened on the original night of Christmas eve; it’s good that families renew ties at least once a year. But what I am suggesting here is that we be mindful of the temptation of actually wanting to tame the Lion of Judah through this domestication of Christmas (understand Christ is also known as the Lion of the tribe of Judah).

 My thought point for this comes from the English theologian C.S. Lewis who wrote the Narnia Chronicles with a Christian point to make. You may remember towards the end of one of the stories when Lucy, who had an idyllic relationship with Aslan, and Mr Tumnus were watching Aslan walk off across the beach. Mr Tumnus turned to Lucy and said “he’s not a tame lion”.

For those of you who don’t know the Narnia stories, Aslan is God the lion of Narnia, just as in real life God come to our world as Christ the Lion of Judah. So Lewis is telling his readers the lion of Narnia (let the reader understand Lion of Judah) is not a tame one who can be domesticated. That’s something Lucy had to learn, and so must we.

Born into a difficult and hostile world, and it’s still a difficult and hostile world, but Christ Jesus our king was born to give us hope, and that hope is our eternal life with God. It’s not hope as in, with any luck it might happen. It’s hope as in, we know we have eternal life because of Christmas eve - and Easter morning - and that eternal life is guaranteed for all who believe in the name of the Lord. Hope therefore is what we know awaits us at the end of time. That’s why Christmas is a season of hope, it’s a hope of the guarantee, not of the possible maybes.

And there’s one other point about hope: Christmas is often said to about peace on earth, goodwill to all. But those who leave their Christmas at the foot of a nativity scene usually want peace on earth on their own terms. In other words, they want a tame and inert Lion of Judah, and do not want to face up to who he really is. His righteousness and justice and peace for our world resides in himself and not in us; it is not on our terms. For if it was, our world would be eternally lost. As it is, when we do finally see the guaranteed goal of our hope, we will see righteousness and justice and peace for our world manifested in perfection, something a tame lion of Judah could never bring about.

By all means celebrate the birth of our Lord this morning in whatever way you do. Enjoy family, friends, fellowship, gift giving and receiving, food, drink and re-creation. But as the party begins to wind down and you return to your homes and your quiet times, remember both sides of the Christmas coin: Away in a manager no crib for a bed, the little Lord Jesus lays down his sweet head, hark the herald angels sing, glory to the new born king; but on the flip side, Aslan is not a tame lion.

So can I encourage you all this year to look at Christmas with a fresh perspective. For many, Christmas is a holiday, and we all need holidays and times of refreshment and restoration. But for the Christian, Christmas is also a holyday. For me, it’s becoming an opportunity for rest and re-creation almost in a sacramental sense, especially on Christmas eve. I’ve long since chucked out the Kmart tinsel and plastic tree. Instead, my home is decorated with the fragrance of real frankincense and real myrrh standing next to a cross of real gold, and I have three candles burning in glass holders for God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, the light come into the world.

Don’t leave Christmas at the foot of the crib with infant holy and lowly; Christmas leads to the foot of a sin bearing cross with saviour suffering and dying in our place. And because of that, there is no way in heaven or on earth the Lion of Judah could possibly be a tame one.

Philip Starks

Published under Creative Commons Copyright Licence

Hannah's lament. 1 Samuel 1.

Pouring out your soul to the Lord.

I’ve got a short series of videos of the Archbishop of Canterbury speaking about prayer, and in one of them he begins by saying that prayer is not polite. It is respectful and awed, but not polite. Christian prayer, he says, often expresses lament, sorrow, rage and protest. I can just imagine tens of thousands of church goers marching along Swanston Street yelling, what do we want? Prayer! When do we want it? Now!

Today’s readings from 1 Samuel, and the story of Hannah, is one example of such prayer. Let’s look at it, noting how lament and sorrow can turn in to joy and celebration. It is the story of a relationship between a woman of great faith and God; a journey of travail and grief leading to transformation. It also records Israel’s origin of kingship in that Samuel, Hannah’s son, becomes the king maker.

Children are a blessing from God, certainly the game of the day at any baptism. Celebration, families, everyone dressed up to the nines for the occasion. And why not? The arrival of children to parents has been a cause for celebration for millennia, and ancient Israel of 3500 years ago (when Hannah lived) was no exception. In those days motherhood and fatherhood were signs of prosperity and of being in favour with God. So what became of men and women who had no children? For a woman it was a disaster. Hannah endured the sorrow of childlessness in a culture that defined a woman’s significance in terms of motherhood. She was exposed to ridicule, gossip, and rejection.

Hannah’s grief at not having children was very strong, and this is reflected in the story as she weeps in bitterness of soul. Yet she doesn’t turn her distress into anger and lash out at all and sundry, not even towards Peninnah, who was her main antagonist. But what does she do? She’s found in God’s house at Shiloh bringing her sorrows to him in fervent prayer.

Now what’s notable about Hannah’s prayer is this: she doesn’t question God and ask why me? She doesn’t accuse God of being unfair. You can never accuse God of being unfair, and those who do have the temerity to assume they know the mind of God and can instruct him in each and every situation. But Hannah’s prayer is simple yet profound: remember me, and that meant asking God to act in mercy and graciousness.

It’s not bargaining with God, or reminding him of whatever, or claiming some sort of merit which she thinks she’s entitled to. No. She simply pours out her heart to God with tears in honest and open dialogue, laying out her feelings in no uncertain terms and in (respectful) rage and protest. Where are you God? Don’t you see my distress? Can’t you see my tears? It was focused, intense personal petition to the point where she uttered silent prayer – only her lips moved. A rare form of prayer indeed in those days. Even the local priest didn’t recognise what was going on. Today we might say she was on mute, but far from it was the truth.

That’s the kind of prayer that goes straight up to God’s ears. Why? Because God’s name means the one who is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness. Also, God has a heart that can feel pain and the sorrow of his loved ones, and there’s more than one place in scripture that tells us so. God knows our tears and sorrows. And as any caring parent knows when their child cries out in real distress, what do they do? They’re right there at the child’s side.

Hannah turned first and only to Yahweh, the one and only God, not to the gods or gurus or the other peoples around her. Why? Because she knew that her strength and salvation lay in God alone, as it does with us today in our century. And anyone who has been through lament in prayer knows the futility of trying to prevail by one’s own strength and power. It’s human, it’s limited and it’s feeble. Why would you rely on your own hopeless puny attempts when you have direct access to God through our Lord Jesus Christ in the presence of the Holy Spirit?

When was the last time you laid bare your heart and soul and feelings before God? What was it like? What was the outcome? What’s your testimony to that? Were you open to change, new possibilities and a new disposition towards God and life?

Hannah remained faithful to God despite her circumstances, and in the end she experienced his mercy and graciousness towards her, turning her lost years and grief into a time of fulfilment and joy. And that’s what the Song of Hannah celebrates at the start of chapter two.

Now the Song of Hannah is not only her expression of profound thanks and praise to God for hearing her laments, intervening in her circumstances, and granting her request for children, it’s also a testimony to how she has changed. You see, prayer changes us. It doesn’t change God. God is who he is. That’s his name, I Am Who I Am. We can ask God to intervene in whatever our circumstances might be, lay before him whatever is troubling us, but prayer doesn’t make God see things our way so that we somehow enable that change to happen within him. What prayer does do is change us so that we see things his way. And when Hannah came out the other end of her struggle, she was a profoundly different person for the better.

Firstly of course, she was given the gift of pregnancy. It was a blessing then, and is still a blessing for parents today. The Lord Jesus had a lot of time for children and taught the value of them within the Kingdom of God, didn’t he. Let the children come to me. Do not hinder them because theirs is the kingdom, he said.

How else was Hannah changed?

Lament gives suffering the dignity of language. It won’t stay silent. It’s the language and heart of movement towards God. God’s heart towards us is soft, empathic and loving, and when ours is hard, stoic and unloving, God finds himself shut out from us. Now I’m not saying Hannah was hard and unloving, but in her distress, she could easily have become like that. The passage does say she wept in bitterness of soul.

However, by reaching out to God in such a state of anguish, Hannah experienced what it’s like to open herself up to God and become emotionally vulnerable. That is to say, it takes considerable personal courage when confronting issues to be open in a relationship that is honest and authentic, for hearts to soften, and for the stoic in us to dissolve. Real connectedness between people lies not in the mind, but in the felt experience of the heart. It’s a trust building process between partners that becomes safe within the relationship. That’s why God wants soft hearts. God is patient, and he will lead us through hard yards if he has to, but the reward of a restored relationship with him in the end is second to none.

What’s another point of change that happened to Hannah?

We Anglicans have this line in our prayer book, “the peace of God which passes all understanding, keep you hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God”. The Song of Hannah celebrates Hannah’s move from hopelessness to renewed confidence. She said this, there is no one holy like the Lord; there is no one beside you; there is no rock like our God. And a few verses later, he raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap.

Seems to me that Hannah experienced a deep peace within herself that transformed her circumstances, and it’s not a peace that the world can give, but one that can only come when you give yourself to God with all heart, mind, soul and strength, and allow him to accompany you in your times of distress. And the thing about this God given peace is that times of distress will not overwhelm you. Not at all; they won’t defeat you. How can they when you have a God who is a sure solid rock.

Let me give you a quick illustration. When I was much younger and visited the beach more often than I do now, I would wade out in the sea, stand still and note how the wave action sucked away the sand under my feet until I fell over. Then I stood on a submerged rock, stood still and the wave action couldn’t shift me. Hannah’s worldview around her was like the sand always undermining her. But when she found peace with God, she stood on the rock, as it were, and she was no longer assailed by the culture and worldview of her day.

So, ladies and gentlemen, to sum up: there are valuable lessons to be learned from Hannah’s experience. Children are a gift from God to be thankful for and to praise him for. They are of great value in his kingdom. Also of great value in God’s kingdom is the softening of the human heart towards him, and that softening is learned through the tears of lament and sorrow, rage and protest. And that is why we Christians can give thanks in all circumstances, be they happy times or sad, joyous times or sorrow, anxious times or peace filled.

There is a time and a season for everything: a time for happiness and a time for sadness; a time for joy and a time for sorrow; a time of anxiety and a time for peace. And God will bring all things under his watchful eye as he cares for us. But he’ll do it his way.

Philip Starks

Published under Creative Commons Copyright Licence

Laying on of hands. Acts 19

In my day, the usual thing when you turned 12 was off for confirmation, bit like a Christian bar mitzva I suppose. So off I went to confirmation class, and all I had to learn was the 10 commandments, the Nicene creed and Lord’s prayer. So long as I could recite those before the bishop, that was enough. I’d become a full member of the church, and I could take me first communion. Well I don’t know what the Holy Spirit did with me on that day, but it wasn’t until I turned 25 that things began to happen. However, that’s another story for another day.

The Anglican church has its sacrament of baptism and its rite of confirmation in which we ask for the presence of the Holy Spirit to come into the life of the believing candidate, but sacraments and rites alone cannot contain or control the life and work of the Holy Spirit. As Jesus said, you can’t contain the spirit any more than you can contain and control the wind. The Holy Spirit is God’s gift to man for the purposes of bearing witness to the creative work of the Father, to the identity and person of the Son and his work of salvation, and for the deepening of faith commitment by the believer.

Now this idea of confirmation (or laying on of hands) by the bishop goes right back to the apostles themselves. In The Acts of the Apostles, Luke records Peter and John doing it in chapter 8 when they visited some people in Samaria. Also in chapter 19, this morning’s reading, when Paul visited Ephesus. There he found some people who had received John the Baptist’s baptism, but not of the Holy Spirit. And it wasn’t until after Paul laid his hands on them that they did receive the Holy Spirit.

Some of you may have picked up in verse 5 that these Ephesians, on hearing about Jesus, were baptized into the name of Jesus. That makes it read like John’s baptism in the Jordan for repentance was insufficient, and it’s caused some commentators to offer the point that John’s baptism was defective, had to be corrected in some way. I don’t agree with that. John’s baptism pointed the way to Jesus, and Jesus himself affirmed John’s ministry. It prepared the way, in that it looked forward to the one whose work would be the actual and effective cleansing of sin, that is, his death and subsequent resurrection as vindication of that.

The people that Paul met hadn’t heard of the Holy Spirit, and they may have thought of John’s baptism as some kind of meritorious work they had to undergo as a purification rite. And besides that, Jesus had instructed his followers that baptism was to be in his name, not anyone else’s, because it is a gift of God and cannot be a work of merit by sinful man. [Makes me wonder just what goes through the minds of people who bring children to the church for baptism. Is it in their minds a kind of insurance policy for the child, of a work of merit to get the kid on its way? That’s why this diocese insists that at least one parent or sponsor be a baptized believer.]

When I was confirmed, we were taught that confirmation conferred full membership of the church and allowed me to take Holy Communion. It was like a rite of passage. These days we teach that to baptized in the name the Father, Son and Holy Spirit brings a person fully into the church of God as a member with us of the body of Christ, and there’s no rule requiring confirmation before admission to Holy Communion. That changed in the mid-1980s. So if baptism brings a person fully into the church of God, what then is the role of confirmation?

The order of service for confirmation contains this opening prayer said by the bishop:

Almighty and ever living God, you have given your servants new birth by water and Spirit, and have forgiven them their sins. Strengthen them, we pray, with the Holy Spirit that they may grow in grace. Increase in them the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of discernment and inner strength, the spirit of knowledge and true godliness, and fill them with wonder and awe at your presence, through Jesus Christ our Lord.

If that isn’t a prayer for the candidate’s deepening commitment of faith and the maturing of inner life, I don’t know what is.

The rite of confirmation is an opportunity for believing Anglicans to publicly express a deeper commitment of their faith, to be a witness of one’s acceptance of Christian values and lifestyle. The gift of the Holy Spirit is especially asked for, and when such a prayer request is made, it is always heard, always answered. When, where and how is another matter. It’s one thing to ask for and receive the Holy Spirit, and he will empower you with whatever abilities he sees fit, but then those gifts and abilities need to be fanned into full flame and invested in the work of the Kingdom of God. It’s the old question isn’t it: I asked of life, what have you to offer me? And the answer came, what have you to give?

Candidates need to be carefully prepared for confirmation, retained within the congregation of their confirmation, and be offered the support of wise counsel by senior members of that congregation. It may take time for the activity of the Holy Spirit to be recognized, interpreted and understood by the recently confirmed. Through the laying on of hands, the opportunity of a deeper commitment leads to a deeper relationship with the Holy Spirit, and the Son and the Father. And like any relationship, it needs time, counsel and direction to mature.

Now why do I speak of relationship with God? Well, at the outset, we are told in Genesis chapters 1 and 2 that we are created for the purpose of being in relationship with God.

God doesn’t need us as if he lacks something. God as the Holy Trinity can exist quite happily without any creation at all. But he did create and he desires our fellowship with him. God takes a risk with that. How often have we said no to him, refused his desire for fellowship with us? How often do we stamp our feet and insist on our own way without reference to God? And God grieves that refusal. After all, he is the lover, we are the beloved, and when love is not returned, there’s pain and grief. Love risks, because love is feely given. And a god who doesn’t take a risk and is not prepared to bear pain and suffering for his beloved, is a god who cannot love, and is therefore not the god I know about.

That’s why the church offers the opportunity of confirmation. It’s a pastoral ministry where the candidate bears witness to his or her love for God, freely given, and in a mature and deeper way than perhaps baptism might offer, especially if baptism was done at a very young age.

Like baptism, confirmation can be taken only once. You can’t be re-baptized or re-confirmed, and that’s because once the Holy Spirit takes hold of you, you are his, and that’s that. But on the other hand, there may well be times when a person feels they need to re-affirm their baptismal or confirmation commitment, perhaps after an extended period of frustration, loneliness, or even a ‘desert’ experience. Does the Anglican church recognize this need in its liturgy and pastoral services? Yes. There is provision for re-affirmation in the prayer book. And certainly every Easter in this parish we re-affirm our baptismal promises, an opportunity entirely appropriate, and has been since very early in the history of the church.

In conclusion then: Why re-affirm our Christian commitment? Why ask for confirmation? Two things: we are offered the opportunity to enter into a deeper relationship with our God because the soul, like the body, lives by what it feeds on. So feed on Christ by heart and faith. And it is also, as I said earlier, a public witness to our faith in Jesus Christ.

We have the light of Christ in our lives. So let your light so shine before people, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven, through the saving work of the Son, and in the power of the Holy Spirit by the laying on of hands.

Philip Starks

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Gospel beginnings. Mark 1

On my first trip back to England in 2014, I took a minibus day trip round a small part of the Cotswolds. The Cotswolds are the quintessential statement of English countryside, with rolling hills, sheep, farms, and ancient churches - dating back to the 13^th century in one case. We stopped at one village for lunch, and I went into a souvenir shop and bought this little wall plaque that says “Whatever your past has been, you have spotless future”.

So it is with our gospel reading this morning, a very appropriate reading for the season of Advent. Advent is a time of preparation for new beginnings. It’s a time of reflection on how our relationship with God is. And it’s also an opportunity to consider the matter of God’s self-disclosure as we prepare the way, which is what I want to do this morning.

The opening sentence of Mark’s gospel is headline stuff. The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. The Greek word is arch, first principles, a new start. God is doing a new thing in history, albeit disclosed to the prophet Isaiah 700 years earlier, make preparation for the coming of the Lord.

Isaiah didn’t know when it would happen. That wasn’t the prophet’s role. They often interpreted a message disclosed to them, in terms of their present happenings and what to expect without putting a time frame on it.

Mark writes the beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ. The gospel is not a what, it’s not a text or a set of statements. The gospel is a who. It is the gospel OF Jesus Christ. The text is a witness TO the person who is good news (the word gospel means good news). And Mark qualifies the who as being Son of God. In other words, this is headline stuff, so sit up and take note of what I am writing about.

Within Mark’s application of Isaiah’s message to that of John the Baptist, that he is the voice of a herald crying out in the desert, there are the questions of who will hear, and who will respond? A herald doesn’t deliver a message for the sake of hearing his own voice. There has to be a response from those who might listen. And the expected response is to accept a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. That is how the way of the Lord is prepared as a first step by anyone.

What then can we say about God’s self-disclosure? For this is what the headline of Mark’s text is about. God has disclosed himself in the prophetic voice of Isaiah, realized in the person of Jesus of Nazareth.

Our God is not unknowable. God is relational and he has created mankind in his image as relational. And you cannot be relational without self-disclosure. God’s self-disclosure is like a language, because language is communicative as is self-disclosure. God’s language proceeds by events, words, and works (what God has done and said).

 It’s knowing God’s name (hence we can call upon the name of the Lord). It’s also in the silence of our hearts (be still and know that I am God). And in these last days, God’s language includes the appearance of his Son to share our humanity. So God has used his language of self-disclosure to speak to us in many and various ways.

How then do we learn this language? Well, the best way to learn any language is to immerse yourself in the context within which it is used. That’s why mission workers spend the first couple of years of their placement on overseas location in language learning. They live it, breath it and soak themselves in it. Far more effective than trying to learn it online at home.

In the same way, we learn God’s language of self-disclosure by immersing ourselves in it. Answers to prayer; recognizing the actions of God in our lives and in the lives of others around us; spending time in silence; reading and pondering closely and carefully the scriptures.

There’s a method of communication between partners call the Five Love Languages. Each love language is a form of self-disclosure expressed between couples. The five are, words of affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service, and physical touch. Each partner’s language is learnt by the other immersing themselves in it, so that over time it becomes second nature.

And it’s not difficult to see these five happening between ourselves and God. Words of affirmation – yes; quality time spent in each other’s presence – definitely; receiving gifts – certainly; acts of service – does not God serve us by providing all we need, and we serve him in obedience to our Christian calling? Physical touch is bit difficult since Christ is no longer in the world, that is, he is risen and ascended. But the Holy Spirit sure is, and when he touches you, by jingo you know about it!

Struggling with God. Sometimes it’s like, how long O Lord is this going on for? Why? But hey, the language of God-struggle broadens the boundaries of your relationship with him, especially when it brings new beginnings and the disposition of confidence and security that God is the rock on which you stand.

Now let’s go back to the theme of preparing the way. God’s self-disclosure to us in those many and various ways is what helps us to prepare the way for him in our hearts, in our lives and in our work. Confession of sin and approaching God in penitence and in faith is the first step of course, but it’s only the first step. We can’t leave it at that. There is work to be done and lives to live.

The season of Advent is a good opportunity for us to apply the language of God’s self-disclosure in a more radical and interior way that we might otherwise do. It’s an opportunity to examine our thoughts and desires, and to discern the intentions of our hearts.

All of it, God’s acts, his witness, his name, the stillness, our prayer life, penetrates soul and spirit, discerning matters of the heart. And the more you gaze upon God’s language, the brighter it shines back at you. The voice crying in the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord, becomes loud and clear.

Now a few comments about new beginnings in Advent for our parish. God is a free agent, free to create new things and new beginnings. The season of Advent is our opportunity for preparation and the coming of new things and new acts of God, and a new approach to our focus group of people seeking connections in our mission action plan.

So, can I encourage us all this Advent season to do two things: gaze more closely into the language of God’s self-disclosure, and reflect on our own self-care (given the awful year we’ve all just had). Both will go a long way to understanding the voice crying in our deserts to prepare the way for new things to come in a new year.

I know Christmas is around the corner, and we are all looking even more closely at our watches and calendar boxes. But perhaps we would do well to ask not how much time we’ve got, but how we live today while it is still called Today.

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. In the desert there is the voice of one crying in the wilderness to prepare the way of the Lord and make his paths straight. Soak yourselves in the voice of God’s word, work, stillness and presence. Listen and be still before you act. Take care of yourselves, look out for those who need to receive some care, and have a wonderful Advent season.

Philip Starks

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The question of taxes or not. Matthew 22

Over the years I must have heard this sermons dozens of times, as I’m sure you all have. And how many times has the message been about the morals of paying taxes? Too many. But did Matthew, who himself was a tax collector, really insert this story into his gospel to tick the morals of paying one’s bills? Tax collectors were not exactly the beloved of the people. They were scoundrels who lined their own pockets with kickbacks and fees for no service. And it made some of them very wealthy. They were also seen as collaborators with the Romans because it was Rome that levied the taxes.

It’s interesting to note that Jesus chose a tax collector and a zealot (Simon the zealot) both to include in his chosen group of twelve. Zealots were the terrorists of the day, and wouldn’t think twice about knifing anyone seen as a collaborator with the occupying power. Jesus also chose a thief who turned traitor. Judas was put in charge of the money bag, and would help himself to it. Jesus also chose tradies, fisherman (Peter, James and John) as his followers. Note carefully that Jesus didn’t choose the intellectual elite, with the one extraordinary exception being St Paul, who was a well-educated Pharisee.

Now there’s a good reason why Jesus didn’t choose the intellectual elite, those who were in their own strength academically, and that’s why I think Matthew has included the tax story in his gospel. Yes, there is a moral imperative to pay your taxes because the authorities need income to provide you with civic services, infrastructure and a pension when you turn 67 if you need it. And there is also a moral imperative to pay your dues to God, your worship, your thanksgiving and your obedience to his call. No need to say much more about that, but it’s not why the Pharisees asked the question about paying taxes.

Let’s look at it. In verse 15, Matthew says the Pharisees are plotting to trap Jesus in his own words. They want to engage him in an intellectual sparring match, the Q&A or The Drum of his day, and they are looking to discredit him on their terms to further secure their positions. Notice how they approach the conversation: tell us what you think – setting up the intellectual conundrum. And then the question which is really a silly one. Of course you should pay tax, it’s the law. The question is simply intended as a trap to get rid of Jesus. If he’d said no, they would have gone straight round the Pontius Pilate and laid charges of sedition against him. If he’d said yes, the crowds following him would have vanished. End of story. But of course Jesus sees through them straight away, and gives the brilliant answer he does. Show me a coin. Whose image and inscription is on it? So pay your dues to he who owns the coin and your dues to he who has created and owns you.

The question is not for a moment one of seeking a connection with God. The Pharisees and other intellectual elites don’t for a moment go to Jesus in need and on his terms, which would have been perfectly acceptable. So what did draw people to Jesus? Who were the people seeking connections?

As I said earlier, Jesus chose all sorts for his group of twelve. He went out of his way to eat and sit with sinners, and got criticized for it by the intellectual elites who were righteous in their own eyes. Jesus attracted the unclean, the blind, the lame, the mentally ill. He healed and forgave those who sought him out. The woman with a blood flow who said if she could just touch his cloak it would be enough; the Syrian woman who said even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table; the blind man who cried Son of David have mercy on me; Legion who cried out what do you want with me Son of God and was restored to his right mind, dressed and sitting at Jesus’ feet.

These were the people seeking connections. They knew what they were, and they went to Jesus in weakness and in trembling. Lord, I just can’t do it anymore. I’m at the end of my tether. I’m frightened and anxious. Are you available to me? They didn’t ask questions or put Jesus to the test; they simply said Lord help me. And they put themselves at the Lord’s disposal on his terms. The question of taxes is irrelevant; but the question of surrender to Christ and his lordship over you is everything.

Over and over again in the psalms, the writers plead how long O Lord; attend to me for am troubled and in distress; be gracious to me O God for people trample on me. And many other lines of similar lament which are so in tune with human nature and suffering today in our century. Yet the psalmists know and proclaim God as their strength and refuge. That’s because the psalmists knew who to turn to, not to themselves, but to Yahweh the God of Israel.

You see friends, unlike the Pharisees who went to Jesus simply to test him with not so fine sounding questions, those who appeal to the Lord in godly sorrow and dependance are the ones whom the Lord seeks out. They are the ones seeking connections, and God is not slow in making those connections. How true are the words of Jesus, Come to me all you who are weary and heavy burdened, and I will refresh you. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light, and you will find rest for your souls.

Listen to the words another seeking a connection:
Incline your ear O Lord and answer me, for I am poor and needy.
Preserve my life, for I am devoted to you; save your servant who trusts in you.
You are my God; be gracious to me, for to you I cry all day long.
Gladden the soul of your servant, for to you Lord I lift up my soul.

There’s so much need at the moment in these times of social and livelihood disruption. Young children vulnerable to long-term trauma due to being locked out of school and friends and the loss of social value that’s so necessary for their development; mental anguish of those who have suffered months of solitary living; domestic violence due to family pressures of lockdown; the unemployed tossed out of work because business goes under due to lockdown; and of course those who have caught the virus and spent weeks in hospital and are now facing little understood long-term effects.

These are the people for whom Jesus and his church are available. These are the people who are most likely to say, hear us for we are poor and needy. Gladden our souls for we cry all day long. These are people seeking connections, and they are not interested in asking questions like should we pay tax. The question they want to ask is, to whom shall we turn?

We are not interested in asking trick questions like should we pay tax. We are interested in asking real questions like to whom should we go, and who will establish the work of our hands? Well, the answer to the second is that is it the Lord who establishes the work of our hands; while the answer to the first requires us to keep our eyes and ears open, and our hearts and minds at prayer.

So, pay your dues to Caesar, pay your dues to God, and be available in followship to those seeking connections.

Philip Starks
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Who do people say I am? Matthew 16

When Jesus puts the question to his disciples, who do people say the Son of Man is, a new period in their training begins. [Jesus often referred to himself as Son of Man. It’s a reference to a vision of the prophet Daniel of one like a son of man being given all authority in heaven and on earth]. Up to now they have seen Jesus in action as a preacher, miracle worker, and interpreter of the law. Jesus is starting to look towards the final work he has to do in Jerusalem. The disciples must know who he is and what kind of messiah he is if they are to carry on his work in, and carry his name to, the world at large. And so must we, since we are also his disciples and his witnesses to the world at large.
At first the disciples give a safe answer, you might be John Baptist, Elijah or one of the prophets. But safe answers to the question of discipleship are not answers at all. And that’s why Jesus probes them further. But who do YOU say I am? Now it’s getting personal and perhaps uncomfortable. Each man has to answer for himself. What do they really think, honestly and authentically? It’s a question to be put to us also, his 21^st century disciples. Who to YOU say Jesus is? What to YOU really think, honestly and authentically?

Simon answers, you are the Christ, the son of the living God. It’s a watershed answer which Jesus acknowledges has not been taught by human wisdom. It is a revealed truth. Blessed are you Simon because flesh and blood have not revealed this to you, but my father who is in heaven. You can’t lecture someone into recognizing Jesus as Christ; and you can’t argue anyone into the Kingdom of Heaven. The truth about that is a revealed truth, taken hold of as if eyes are opened and hearts are set free. It’s not a truth that can be taught by human intervention. That’s why those to whom that truth has been given are the blessed ones.

And one other point about Simon Peter’s confession: it was made in presence of the other disciples. It wasn’t a quiet tete-a-tete on the side in private. Confession of Christ as Lord is never a private cosy affair; it’s public, and that’s what keeps you accountable to it.

Now you might ask why Jesus told his disciples not to say anything about what had just transpired between them, and he made that very clear. Why not share it on the social media of the day to the wider world? It’s because the time for that was not yet. What do you think would have happened? The general populace was expecting a messiah like King David of old who would restore the empire of Israel to its former glory, and to defeat the hated Roman occupation. Jesus would have been seen as the new David and his faithful band of fighting men. The general populace would have beaten their plowshares into swords and joined in the fight. Pontius Pilate, in turn, would have called in re-enforcements from Syria and crushed the whole thing asap. Jesus was not that kind of messiah. Remember what he said to Pilate at his trial; my kingdom is not of this world.

Peter might have grasped the divine nature of who Jesus was, but not what kind of messiah he was. The time for that was after the Lord’s death and resurrection. Only then did they begin to understand.
A common criticism of Christianity’s doctrine of a suffering saviour is that critics simply cannot fathom how on earth God can bring victory for himself and win the world by sending the Son of Man as one of us, and ending being crucified. It’s definitely not success story language, and therefore is a meaningless message to those who cannot think beyond victory-in-prosperity and success-for-the-winners. They are the ones who will answer, maybe he is one of the prophets or maybe not, who knows. They are the ditherers who won’t commit themselves to a straight answer.

Peter is given a new name, Rocky. It’s a play on words as Jesus declares that on this rock I will build my church.

What is this rock? Whatever interpretation you might like to put on it, any interpretation that minimizes the importance of faith that found expression in Peter’s statement must be rejected. The church and its mission does not depend on Peter the man himself. Peter, though he was a preeminent figure amongst the apostles, being one of Jesus’ inner circle of three, and with a significant preaching ministry, wasn’t the elected leader of the Jerusalem church. James was. So in effect, James was the first bishop of Jerusalem. But Peter is the first to confess, with divine gift of insight, that Jesus is the Christ. That is the rock on which the church is built. That, the church does depend on, people together with their declared recognition of Christ as Lord.

So when we say the creed together as the gathered church, and believe it with all heart, mind, soul and strength, that’s the heritage we have received from the Apostle Peter, the rock.

What then should we say about Peter being given keys to the kingdom, and whatever is bound or loosed on earth shall have been bound or loosed in heaven?

Well, the metaphor of being the holder of the key to a door is obvious. It’s all about stewardship. If the church, built on its leaders’ confession and God-given insight into who Christ is, holds the keys to the kingdom, it therefore has responsibility for good stewardship of that which has been entrusted to it, that is, the people to whom it is ministering. And that means our church leaders, to whom good stewardship of the kingdom has been entrusted, must exercise that responsibility as shepherds, not as lords or barons. There is no place in the church of God for power politics. Power politic does not win people into the Kingdom of God, but the pastoral ministry of a shepherd does.

Now Jesus also said to Peter, and the other apostles who were in on the conversation of course, whatever you bind or loose on earth, shall have been bound or loosed in heaven.

Here I chose my words carefully. The Greek text does not express those words as straight forward future tense, as if what the church says somehow puts an obligation on the Kingdom to rubber stamp its decisions. Remember, our church leaders are not lords or barons, they are shepherds. And what they decide as being permitted or forbidden on earth, has already been sorted out as such in heaven. In other words, our bishops, in their God given roles of chief shepherds and stewards of the church, will have made their decisions through prayer and conversation with God first. Nothing they do should be of their own volition. Same goes for priests, the local church shepherds. Prayer is number one in the life of every church leader and minister. Father, hallowed by thy name, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Jesus did not teach, let man’s will be done on earth, while God’s will be done in heaven.
And that’s why we need to pray for our bishops, particularly at this COVID time when ministry is difficult and many of the clergy under their charge are stressed out.

Our church is not immune from stressful times, needless to say. COVID is taking its toll on our worship life and our ability to provide pastoral care in the best possible face to face way. And of course it continues to be under threat from secular forces that would like to see the Christian faith destroyed. The attacks are sure and sinister, undermining the Christian voice at every turn. The weeds are indeed growing alongside the wheat, as I spoke about last time. But, Jesus says, the gates of hell will not prevail against God’s church or our confession of Christ as Lord, and the divine gift to us which makes that possible.

So friends, stay true to your confession that Christ is Lord, the son of the living God, and the gift of knowing he is Messiah that has been given to you through the Holy Spirit. Be confident that his kingdom will prevail, and that these times of distress will pass.

Philip Starks
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