A God who knows and understands

This sermon was preached at St Andrew’s 8am and St Peter’s 11am services on 27th September 2014. The readings were Exodus 17:1-7, Philippians 2:1-13 and Matthew 21:23-32.

Yesterday morning was unseasonably warm but I had decided first thing to go for a run along the seafront. It was glorious but hot and I had put a good pace on and by the time I had got to the Fishermen’s cottages at the Bents my throat was pretty dry. As I rounded the corner I noticed a metal bowl brimming with water. It had a big sign over it with an arrow pointing downwards: “Dogs”, it read. Resisting the urge to get on my hands and knees and lap, I carried on!

Possibly the Israelites wouldn’t have been so picky. Or maybe they would. They did seem to moan an awful lot. I once saw a cartoon postcard of Moses, staff held aloft with the mountainous waters of the Red Sea parted – you know, real Cecil B. DeMille stuff. But with the Israelites – Egyptians, hot on their heels – inexplicably holding back. “What do you mean, it’s a bit muddy?” Moses was roaring.

Anyway, here they are. As we heard just now. Trudging through the wilderness. Throats dry. Raging thirst. Moaning again. “Give us water to drink!” they shrieked at Moses. “And anyway, why did you bring us out of Egypt to kill us all with thirst?”.

That’s all the thanks Moses got for saving them from oppressive slavery, you see. How quickly they had forgotten that!

So Moses turns to God in desperation. “What on earth am I to do? This lot is ready to stone me. I’m out of ideas. It’s getting completely out of hand”.

And then God says a curious thing. “Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink”.

And as we heard Moses did. He also named the place Massah and Meribah, Hebrew for “testing” and “quarrelling”. A reminder that this was the place where the people of Israel quarrelled and tested God, asking whether he was really there or not.

Now that’s a curious account by any stretch. What on earth is it all about? Some people have tried to explain the physical phenomenon of water coming most unexpectedly from a dry rock by suggesting that the water was secreted in the cracks and Moses knocking against the rock simply released it. Whether or not this was true misses the point, the reason, the purpose of the story. It would also have to account for a heck of a lot of water!

One of the things I like about the Book of Exodus – actually the same could be said of any of the Books in the Bible – but which, at the same time, can make me feel uncomfortable is the sheer realism. Human nature is presented in all its embarrassing authenticity. We recognise ourselves – I certainly recognise myself – in lots of the people in the Bible. Weaknesses, foolish acts, wayward thinking, pride – all that. And here, moans and complaints.

And yet. And yet. In this particular situation God gives an answer. He responds to the moans and the groans and the whining. And in a quite unexpected way. He tells Moses to hit a big, dry boulder in the desert…. and out pours water. We aren’t told details about the quantity but we have to assume it was enough and more than enough to quench the thirst of the many thousands of Israelites gathered there. Men, women, children.

Perhaps a little like the feeding of the 5000 with twelve baskets left over or the abundant amount of fabulous wine, changed from water at the wedding at Cana. A crisis in each instance – moans, verbalised anxieties – by the disciples, by the wine stewards at the wedding – followed by God intervening, responding, and providing – and not just providing but providing in abundance far more than enough for all.

What’s it all about? I think in a word, Grace. The sheer grace of God. And the love and concern of a God who knows and understands. Life is not always easy. Perhaps more often than not, it’s not easy. Sometimes, spiritually, we can feel pretty dry. That the going is tough. Not always, for sure. But sometimes. And it was certainly tough for the Israelites. And I know they did seem to be moaning and complaining a lot of the time. But would many of us have been any different? Traipsing around the desert for years. Far from the relative comforts of Egypt. Sure they were enslaved by the Egyptians. But at least they had known where their next meal was coming from and had a decent roof over their heads. Uncertainly. Anxiety. Discomfort. This was what life was all about now. You’ve got to feel for poor old Moses who had to lead this lot.

I think God knew all about this – although he probably despaired that they didn’t have a little more faith in him. Couldn’t quite trust him completely. And yet, and yet, in his compassion and utter love for them was still ready to meet their need. “You unbelieving and perverse generation” said Jesus, centuries later, to the doubters before him with a young man who was ill. “How long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you?” You sense the frustration- yet the compassion – of Jesus. He was never really going to leave them. “Bring the boy here to me”. And that instance too, Jesus meets the need and heals him.

Again and again we see it. The disciples in the boat in the storm on the Lake, terrified they are going to drown, waking Jesus from sleep. “Where is your faith?” he says, almost in disbelief before he calms the wind and the waves.

No, our faith will often be feeble. But – thank God – that doesn’t matter. God will always be faithful and will show us just how faithful, perhaps in ways we can quite clearly recall at moments in our own lives. And he has most certainly shown faithfulness to the whole world in Jesus, most supremely on the cross. God responding, meeting the deepest needs of humanity, for forgiveness, wholeness, peace.

The writer of the hymn, “Lord, enthroned in heavenly splendour” brilliantly and poetically puts it: “Life-imparting, heav’nly manna, stricken rock with streaming side”.

Moses, trying to lead God’s people out of slavery to freedom, feared for his life with this angry, fearful, frustrated crowd of Israelites – and yet God graciously met their need, faithless, undeserving as they were, giving them the water they craved, quenching their thirst.

Jesus – leading Israel from slavery to sin to a new life of forgiveness – was actually killed by the angry, jeering, disappointed crowd which turned on him in those final days in Jerusalem. And yet. “Life imparting, heav’nly manna, stricken rock with streaming side….”

Not a rock but his own human flesh. Jesus himself was struck. With nails. With the spear in his side which caused blood – and water – to flow out…. a physical representation if you like – of the living water – as Jesus had described himself. Offering to all who were there, and all who ever would be, however undeserving, however doubting, grace, forgiveness, wholeness, healing.

So many have found that – and still find that – to be true. The hardest of hearts – just off the top of my head John Newton, slave trader whose realisation of what Jesus had done for him transformed him, inspired him to write “Amazing Grace” and many other hymns. Nicky Cruz, gangster of 1950s New York, whose life was utterly changed by God’s grace through the courage of a young pastor called David Wilkerson who told Nicky Cruz that God would never stop loving him, even if Nicky Cruz killed him there and then. Read all about it in “The Cross and the Switchblade” and “Run, baby, run”.

And Paul – formerly Saul – the one who approved of Stephen’s murder. The one who carted off Christians to prison, vowing to stamp out Christianity. Paul, having come to know the reality of the grace and forgiveness of Jesus Christ, who was able to write many years later from a prison cell, the words we heard this morning: “Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus…..for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure”.

So many lives – lives that we might have written off as hopeless cases – certainly the sorts of lives which the Pharisees from our Gospel reading – so sure that they had got it right – so disdained: tax-collectors and prostitutes – completely changed by the utter grace of God.

Which gives each one of us hope, daily. Even if we doubt ourselves. That makes not the slightest difference to God. He is always, always faithful. His grace, his love a sure rock. The Living Water which Jesus offers to us quenching our deepest thirst and bringing us life which truly is life.

Amen.

Our Gifts to Offer

This sermon, the next in our “Still Valued and Valuable” series, was preached at all four Sunday morning services on 21st September 2014. The readings were 1 Kings 3: 5-15, Ephesians 4:7-16 and Matthew 9: 32 38.

It is good to be here. It is good as we continue this sermon series, this week entitled “Our Gifts to Offer,”(on this our Harvest Sunday.) Of course you may realise that I am the only one qualified, old enough, to deliver a sermon to those of us who are now in this golden age, even if I do have to spent some of my pension having my hair colour done to keep up appearances.

My 8 year old grandson asked me last month when it was my birthday, “how old are you grandpa?” I replied all excitedly, I’m a teenager today, 6 and 7, and it will be another 9 years before I become a teenager again. I’ll let you do the maths.” You could imagine the look on his face.

Would we really want to go back 50+ years or more to that time in our lives? Well, probably not, even though we would love to have that vitality of youth again. But what is the difference between then and now, what are the positives of life that we have now?

Today I believe in our reading from the book of Kings, Solomon gives us a few clues to our golden age in his dream encounter with God. It was a time when King David was an old man losing his hold on reality, his physical weakness, as well as his hold on his kingship shortly before his death.

As Solomon is rushed to the throne in the midst of political intrigue we are given a picture of a young man out of his depths. To put it mildly he hadn’t a clue what to do, possibly reminiscent of our teenage encounters in life. The major difference for all of us between then and now.

So Solomon turns to God with a heart not for himself but for his people, and asks God for the gifts that would enable him to fulfil his new role as king. As God gazed at his faithfulness he offers him a blank cheque, “Anything you want you can have Solomon.,” he tells him. Solomon asks God for discernment that he can govern wisely a people who, after all, belong to God. A prayer for security for his people that would be granted by walking in the ways of the Lord. It’s a wonderful picture that we are given of Solomon asking for a listening heart and an understanding mind, his sincerity, his simplicity, his prayer to the Lord who loved him.

For Solomon his wisdom became legendary amongst his people not least in that well known story of the two women fighting over who was the real mother of the child who had not died and his wisdom in discerning the truth.

Solomon went on to rule over Israel for over 40 years about the normal lifespan of our working lives. His wisdom gave him insight in to saying the right things, doing the right things, living in that right relationship with God.

You see I believe there is a treasure store of gifts in our golden age years being used or possibly lying dormant. Gifts honed out of the years of earthly living, skills and abilities unique to our life story but common to our humanity. Gifts uniquely given by the Spirit, not least the gifts of wisdom and discernment that God longs us to use on our part in building up his kingdom today.

How much more exciting, more fulfilling, more powerful when individual gifts are put together working for the common good, seamlessly woven together in the harmonious love of Christ Jesus.

What are our gifts? Are we offering ourselves and God’s giftedness within each one of us, prayerfully offered to the glory of God and his kingdom?

I heard the story of a recently retired lady who had a dream. She dreamt that God would give her a long happy retirement. So she went out and spent a fortune on plastic surgery, botox, facelifts, you name it she had it done. Alas one day shortly after all this work she was knocked over and killed by a bus. You can imagine her rage when she got to meet God. “I thought you promised me a long and happy retirement,” she said. God replied I’m sorry, but I did not recognise you, I did not recognise you!!”

God recognises us through the use of our gifts, the exercising of our gifts and praying for the gifts that honour him.

Paul speaks to the Ephesian church and to us about the importance of gifts. The great heritage of our faith is that which we share in common, the common bond of unity in the diversity, the variety of gifts God gives to us. But Paul stresses they are for the benefit of all. This is our privilege to be entrusted by God in our vocation, our special calling in the service of God, bound together by our shared love of Christ, that is empowered by his Spirit.

I was talking to a farmer last week who was busy repairing a dry stone wall. Strewn around him was a collection of stones, all different shapes and sizes being skilfully put together till the stone wall was rebuilt, fulfilling the purpose for which it was intended. So God puts us together, all with different gifts but with the one true purpose of proclaiming his Kingdom.

Paul’s exhortation is for the church to grow up. That is not in a condemnatory tone like, “act your age, not your shoe size,” but a call to a maturity of faith to withstand all the superficiality of a disbelieving society, to withstand all the frailties of age that may come our way. As was once said, “growing old is inevitable, growing up is optional.”

So I believe it is that gift of maturity both in age and in faithfulness that this golden age has to offer. The right use of the gift of time that God has given to us his children. You see each one of us can make a difference irrespective of how active or inactive our physical bodies may be. For a heart overflowing with love, care and compassion can spring from all hearts with that same gift of love that Christ brought to the world.

I frequently visit Glenholme care home and rejoice from the love of Christ that shines through the elderly residents there in the monthly communion service. A love that has not been dampened by the adversity of human frailty.

In our gospel reading today we find Jesus going about his daily work. We find him teaching and healing and proclaiming the good news of his kingdom. In his midst he sees so many harassed, helpless people with worry and stress etched on their faces, no different from today. He sees them as sheep wandering without a shepherd to guide them. His heart filled with love and compassion for them aware of the great harvest of salvation to be won. Jesus aware of the few disciples with him to bring in the harvest.

Imagine there was a power failure in your area. Imagine that all you could see was a flickering light coming from the church so you go to investigate. The flickering light is coming from beside the altar and you see a man sitting in a chair. He is tied and chained to the chair, a prisoner. You then kneel before him because you now realise it is the Lord, but you are puzzled by the chains that hold him.

Jesus replies,”I am stuck here by my people who do not reach out in love, who do not proclaim the good news, for they are my hands and my feet, my eyes and my ears walking on this earth today.”

We are measured by how we live out our lives rooted and anchored in the wonders of a kingdom of love, care, and compassion, the human face of Christ walking along this journey of life. As was once said, “It is not the years in your life that counts, it’s the life in your years.”

When I was working life continued at a hectic pace, living in the fast lane, barely time to take a breath. Now in this golden age it is time to use God’s gift of time wisely, to discern how our lives can be offered on our part in bringing in the harvest. In reflecting the love of God in this place, in this community, in God’s world.

I now describe myself as at the infantile geriatric stage of life, because amongst other things, is the care for grandchildren and elderly mother-in-law that makes up part of one’s life. A situation I believe many of us are in at this stage of our lives. Our vocation, our calling in God’s kingdom.

So when we hear those words at the end of the service, “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord,” how will we be serving God, using our gifts at 10 a.m. on a Monday morning or 3 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon, for example?

It was good to see the harvest gathered in while in The Lakes” last week. But not a time of sitting idly by for those who work the land. Rather of frantic activity of ploughing and muck spreading, of preparing the ground for the next harvest before winter comes and work ceases.

It is like that in our lives whilst our mortal bodies have breath within them until our winter comes. But if we think of ourselves as spiritual beings having human experiences then I believe in our golden age as the body weakens the Spirit rises up within us. The opportunities for growth in faithfulness, in wisdom and discernment, in knowledge and understanding. God’s giftedness growing within us shining out as a beacon of hope to the world before the feet of our great shepherd.

We are part of God’s answer, God’s plan, God’s labourers in the harvest fields, God’s love to a world in need through the gifts we offer.

Recently I came across a rather “tongue in cheek” prayer for our golden age: “Lord, grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway, the good fortune to run into the ones I do and the eyesight to tell the difference.” It is good to rejoice in the gift of laughter and joy.

But now is the time to pray for wisdom, courage, strength and love to do God’s will, with hearts filled with his Spirit. Here I am Lord, send me.

A more appropriate prayer of thankfulness: “For you Lord are all that I have and you give me all that I need. My future is in your hands. How wonderful are your gifts to me. How great thou art.”

Amen.

Mistakes I Have Made

This is the third sermon from our new series “Still Valued and Valuable,” focussing on being a Christian in the later years of life. It was preached at St. Andrew’s 8am & St. Peter’s 11am on Sunday 7th September, and 9:30 at St. Andrew’s on 14th September.

The readings were Exodus 12:1-14, Romans 13:8-14 and John 21:15-19, with supplementary texts of 2 Samuel 11:1-5, 14-17, 26-27 and 2 Corinthians 5:16-21.

A Baptist minister walked across to his church building one day & shook his head. He was supposed to be performing a wedding the next day, and the outside of the church looked a mess. Looking up to the sky, he thought “It’s a nice day – I’ll paint the walls.”

So he popped to the local Maxwell’s & bought paint and brushes. After 4 hours hard graft he had only one section of wall left – but realised he only had enough paint left for half of it. Thinking on his feet, he quickly thinned the paint down & started on the wall. With a few attempts he managed to make just enough to cover the area. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, then walked home for a well-earned sleep.

The next morning, he came back early to set up and was devastated to discover, during a rainstorm overnight, the paint he had watered down had been completely washed away, leaving the wall looking worse than ever. Dropping to his knees he cried “Lord, Lord, what should I do?!”

And a voice like a crack of thunder sayeth unto him “REPAINT – AND THIN NO MORE!!”

Do you have days when no matter what you do, how ever hard you try, you end up getting it wrong? I certainly do.

Big things, little things, day by day, week by week I fail to live up to the standards I’ve set myself,

to be the man I believe God wants me to be. But I don’t think I’m alone in this – and to be fair, I don’t think it’s a particularly Christian problem. Look through popular music, soap operas, magazines, novels & a common theme is the mistakes people make and their response to them. And actually popular culture shows us the two ways we as people try to deal with the things in our past. Frank Sinatra tells us with pride it’s OK ‘cos “I did it my way,” but Cher wants to “Turn Back Time.” Marilyn Monroe thought “Fear is stupid. So are regrets,” and D. H. Lawrence just wanted to live his life “so that my nights are not full of regrets.”

Our Gospel reading today involves the person many of us, at one time or another, find ourselves identifying with the most in the Bible – and possibly for what we see as the wrong reasons. Peter is the epitome of the old saying “God loves a trier” – again and again he wants to be the one Jesus can count on, to show Jesus how much he loves him & believes in him – and again and again he messes it up, says or does the wrong thing, or just lets his human nature, his fear, take over.

Maybe the scene played out like this.

On the beach, waves crashing to the shore, a mystery voice gives the disciples instructions where to put their nets, and they catch the fish they had been looking for without success earlier. Peter sees it is the Lord, he throws himself naked into the water, sprints across the burning sand to where the inviting aromas of fish and toast mingles with charcoal, and his Lord sits waiting for him. The others come over, the eat and chat and slap each other on the back, basking in this wonderful moment with their friend & teacher, alive against all the odds. But Jesus looks at Peter and asks him “Do you love me.” It’s almost part of the chatter, and Peter gives a quick “of course I do” response before reaching for another fish sandwich. Jesus then asks him to feed his sheep, but Peter isn’t really listening. Jesus asks a second time with the same response, but then a third – and suddenly it’s like there’s just the two of them, and Peter can hear “Do you know him” and a cock crowing and those deep, beautiful eyes that saw the forming of the universe looking straight at him, into him, shining a light into every corner of his soul. And Peter almost collapses under the weight of his emotions, his failures, his mistakes and regrets. He can hardly hold Jesus gaze as he quietly says “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” And a third time Jesus simply says “Feed my sheep.”

People often talk of wanting to hear just three little words from a special person. We mean the three Peter said to Jesus. But the three little words Jesus says mean so much more – they just don’t sound so hot in a pop song. They mean forgiveness, they mean acceptance, the mean Jesus still believes in Peter, even if at that moment Peter doesn’t believe in Peter.

Adrian Plass writes a story about special man called Donald.

A friend is bemoaning how, despite all he wants to be & how hard he tries all he can see in himself is sin. Despite all his best efforts, he continues to sin. Another friend says “Well, nobody’s perfect,” to which a third pipes up “Well, my friend Donald hasn’t ever committed a sin.”

“He’s never done anything wrong,” the others ask. “A perfect Christian?”

“He’ll be here in a minute so you can see for yourselves. He’s never stolen, never murdered, never committed adultery, never envied, never lusted, never told a single lie, never been guilty of a cowardly act, never hurt anyone, never hit anyone, never hustled harassed or hated anyone.”

One friend tries to interject. “But surely..” but unabated the one speaking ploughs on.

“He’s never been greedy or slothful, dropped litter, disturbed the peace or driven after drinking alcohol. He’s never had a single unkind thought, or held a grudge or gossiped, and he’s never been late. He never complains, blasphemes, gets drunk, overeats, worships false Gods, watches 18 certificate films or condemned those who do, he’s never been judgemental or harsh or unforgiving. He’s never sad, he never swears, he never smokes, he never stares. He has never committed a single sin. But he won’t be going to heaven.”

“Why ever not!” The others cry.

“Because he’s made of wood.” With this, the man pulls up a wooden mannequin.

“But you said he was a perfect Christian,” they complain.

“No, you said that. I just told you all the things he’s never done wrong. Trouble is, is never done anything – he’s made of wood.”

You see, even if from this second onward, for the whole rest of our life, we didn’t make a single mistake, did nothing wrong ever, it won’t make us Christians and it won’t get us into heaven.

The more miles we get on the clock, the more we do, the more mistakes we make and the more baggage we accumulate. That’s life. That’s being a person.

But those mistakes and foibles, huge great muck ups and little things that have been long forgotten by everybody except ourselves make us who we are. They can be an essential part of our walk with Jesus – if we let them be. The Bible makes no bones about the imperfection of the people called to serve God in the most dramatic and powerful ways. Noah was a drunk, Abraham had a habitual liar, Moses killed a man, David slept with another man’s wife, then had him killed, Solomon was obsessed with porcupines, sorry, concubines, and that’s just scratching the surface of the Old Testament. The disciples didn’t understand anything Jesus told them & argued over who was the best, Paul held the coats of the mob that stoned Stephen to death, and Peter – well, we’ve talked about him. The point is, despite all they got wrong, all their mistakes, God used each and every one of them for great purposes when they let Him – when they responded to Word and the prompting of the Holy Spirit.

Paul reminds us in Christ we are a new creation. We try and change the way we live, and Paul himself is explicit that we are not to go on sinning as if it doesn’t matter. But alongside this is the understanding that we will make mistakes. There will be consequences to these mistakes –

depending on what they are they could range from hurt caused to ourselves & others to financial loss or a prison sentence – but the one consequence that we will never face is losing God’s love for us.

Don’t believe me. Read Romans 8:38-39. Nothing can separate us from the Love of God in Christ Jesus. Nothing. That was the whole point of the cross. As the nails were driven through Jesus battered body, as he was hauled up to bleed to death in agony, he took each and every one of our sins on himself so we could be forgiven. So we could know God. So nothing could separate us from our maker.

I think humanity in general, including many of us here, struggle with the fact that if you say “sorry” to God, He really does just let you off. It’s simply called Grace. So if things you’ve done in the past are preventing you from going all in with Jesus – if you find yourself holding back from truly giving your life to His will and His service because of the mess you see inside yourself or the person you think you are – please stop. Look into His eyes. Let him shine His light into the dark places where the rubbish is stored. Then listen as he says to you: “Feed my sheep…and Follow Me.”

When The Good Seems Gone

This is the second sermon from our new series “Still Valued and Valuable,” focussing on being a Christian in the later years of life. It was preached at all four services on Sunday 31st August.

The readings were Exodus 3:1-15, Romans 12:9-21 and Matthew 16:21-28.

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Who are you? If I were to invite you to turn to a person nearby and introduce yourself, what would you say to them? You’d, most likely, say some of the following. You’d give your name. You might say where you were born or how long you’ve lived in the area. You would, if you have one, talk about your spouse. You might talk about what you do or did for a job. You would, if you have them, probably talk about your children and possibly grandchildren too. You might talk about your interests or hobbies. You might even say how long you’ve been coming to this church.

Now, of course there’s nothing wrong with any of that. We all have our own unique and personal life stories. Yet, for the majority of people in this church it probably feels like their biographies are pretty near completed and only the last chapter remains to be written. And if you were looking for a title for this last chapter, I wonder, might it be: When the good seems gone? After all, what is there to look forward too? Much of old age can seem to be experiences of loss. I was fit, full of vigour and vitality. Now, I’m sluggish, weak and lethargic. I had roles, responsibilities and reasons to live each day. Now, I have few, if any. I had all my faculties and enjoyed my independence. Now, I’m afraid of losing both.

Of course, I wouldn’t ever want to underestimate the frustration, sadness and struggles associated with some of those losses. Nor do I want to minimise the impact they can have on our frail humanity. But for a moment let’s return to that question of: Who are you? In the course of introducing yourself, I really do wonder, even in church, if any of us would’ve said anything about the claim that Jesus Christ has upon our lives. Nevertheless, this morning, however young or old you might be. I want to urge you to begin to believe that if we believe the Christian Gospel, then this is the truest, in fact, it’s the most significant thing about us.

The whole of what the New Testament has to say about, who we are, and what Jesus Christ is all about can be cut down to two words. Two words so small and so easily overlooked that they’re just missed. The two words are: in Christ. If we believe in Jesus Christ, if we place our trust in him, then according to the New Testament. It is no longer we who live but Christ who lives in us. We have a new life, Christ’s life in ours and we in the life of Christ. You see, when we say we believe in Jesus Christ as we do when we recite the Creed every Sunday. We’re saying that he is the centre of all things. It may seem to us as if it’s our life that’s central, that our concerns should be at the centre of things. Our lives, our health, our families, our roles, our activities and our priorities.

But the task of the Christian faith is to allow the truth that we are, in Christ, to affect the whole of our living and the whole of our lives. So that, over a life time we learn to see things, not from our perspective but from Christ’s perspective because it is his life we now lead. Every day, we probably make decisions, choices, priorities and the like about countless things. From families to finances, holidays to health, the use of our time and so on so forth and we do that, more often than not, assuming that we’re at the centre of all things. Whereas, Christian faith invites us to recognise that, we live our lives within the life of Christ. If we believe in Jesus Christ, we are called to live his life, within us. As such, growing as a Christian is in fact a call to become what we are, to become Christ for the sake of the whole world.

From the very moment of birth every human being is growing chronologically older but for Christians, the difference is, we’re growing old in Christ. Regrettably, some seniors have a phobia about aging. They see their retirement years as a curse of boredom and uselessness. Whilst others see them as simply an opportunity for of all kinds of leisure activities. But the church is the kind of community that insists that those who are senior in years are not relieved of spiritual responsibilities.

It’s interesting that aging wasn’t seen by the early Christians as a problem. In the entire New Testament, and particularly in the Pastoral Epistles, the respect due to older members of the community is emphasised. The exhortations imply and speak clearly of dutifully caring for widows, honouring the elderly and imitating their faith and faithfulness. We find specific instructions that the community should provide assistance to widows over the age of sixty and that women recognised by the church as widows, should devote their energies to prayer, hospitality and to service to the sick. But by contrast, in our youth obsessed culture, seniors can be strongly tempted to try looking and acting youthful. But, should seniors long to be young again? Well, I don’t think so, because for Christians old age is not a dead-end street. As we age, we can still grow spiritually and the apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthians: Do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. He said to the Ephesians that we can progressively succeed in putting off the old self and putting on the new self and, be made new in the attitude of our minds. This renewal through the Holy Spirit impacts our mental attitude, our state of mind and disposition with regard to God and his world throughout our lives. In other words, we continue to develop our walk with God and we’re never ever too old to serve the Lord.

It was Saint Augustine who referred to memory as a ‘great receptacle’. So, in those now completed chapters of their biographies seniors have a rich storehouse of memories. Times lost in idleness. Opportunities well used. A fulfilling career. Children grown up. And no doubt suffering gone through with dignity and courage. So what an opportunity there is for the young to tap into these memories. Can I suggest that, none of the ‘good that seems gone’ is ever wasted with God. The Christian faith is passed on from one generation to the next. It depends on that very transmission. There must always be a most intimate relationship between the present and the coming generation, that is, if there is to be a future generation of Christians. The church cannot be the church without the seniors. They’re the very embodiment of the church’s story.

Understandably, as we age, we become more aware of the swift passing of years. And we can either let the fear of death put a mental stranglehold on us or look to the future with hope. And as such, can retitle that last chapter of our biography as, the best is yet to come. Jesus Christ, the risen and ascended Lord is the ground of our hope. The hope of the resurrection lies at the very heart of the way in which Christians embody the practices of growing old in Christ. Jesus Christ wants you to trust him with your life, for your future, for the rest of this day and for the rest of your days. No, it’s not easy and it’s certainly not something learned overnight, but it is possible, because Jesus promises it will be so. If we place our lives in his hands, if we commit ourselves to loving and trusting in his promises and in what he has done for us.

As we live out what today’s Gospel reading calls us to: Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for Jesus sake will find it. We find our lives given back to us as a gift. To live no longer for ourselves but for others, and of course chiefly for him. And then we find, alongside our life given back to us, the very life of God present in our lives. Giving us a new joy, a new hope and a new strength in which to live. My brothers and sisters, this is the only future worth having, it’s the only future the Christian faith invests in. Give Jesus your life. He treasures it already and in return, you will find his life in yours.

Who are you? Above and beyond all things, you are, in Christ.

Valued And Valuable

This is the first sermon from our new series “Still Valued and Valuable,” focussing on being a Christian in the later years of life. It was preached at all four services on Sunday 24th August.

The readings were Exodus 1:8 – 2:10, Romans 12:1-8 and Matthew 16:13-20.

I may have told you this one before so please forgive any repetition, but there was once an older lady who felt she would like to take some exercise.

“I felt like my body had got totally out of shape”, she said. “So I got my doctor’s permission to join a fitness club and start exercising. I decided to take an aerobics class for seniors. I bent, twisted, gyrated, jumped up and down, and perspired for over an hour. But by the time I got my leotard on, the class was over”.

On the other hand, listen to what the Bible says:

“The glory of the young is their strength; grey hair is the splendour of the old”. Proverbs 20: 29

“Grey hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life.” Proverbs 16:31.

“Wisdom is with the aged, and understanding in length of days”. Job 12:12

“Even to your old age I am he, and to grey hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will save”. Isaiah 46:4

“They still bear fruit in old age; they are ever full of sap and green”. Psalm 92:14

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day”. 2 Corinthians 4:16.

It seems there is something of infinite value in being older. Of infinite value to others. Of infinite value to the world. Of infinite value to God.

Over the next few weeks – six Sundays in fact, dodging around a couple of Harvest Festivals – we are going to have a series of sermons on what it might mean to be an older Christian. A disciple of Christ who has had perhaps many years of living under his or her belt. We very much hope that it will bring encouragement, and perhaps some challenge, too. And not just for those of us who are older – and how, anyway, do we define “older”? I suppose it might mean those who have reached retirement age and beyond. But then again, that can be anyone from 55 to 105.

Anyway, the fact is that more and more of us can confidently expect to live to old age. Certainly for many years beyond retirement age. Apparently it is predicted that it will be quite the norm for children born in the UK today to live to over a hundred years old. We are constantly told that there are burgeoning numbers of older people and this is set to continue for many decades.

Yet we live in a world – at least in the West – which is fixated on youth. Cosmetic surgery of all sorts is available – and not only to the very wealthy – in a desperate effort to restrain the physical effects of ageing. There is constant comment on the age – especially of women – of presenters on the television. The “celebrities” of today are invariably the young and beautiful.

So how does all this fit with what God give us in the Bible? I quoted a few verses just now, which makes it perfectly clear that God profoundly values the qualities that age can bring. And the people we see in Scripture, too. Key people. People through whom – and not because they were perfect but because they trusted him – God was able to do great and significant things. Abraham and Sarah. Isaac, Jacob, Moses – we heard a little about him this morning, his birth, although the real purpose and destiny of his life didn’t effectively begin until he was eighty years old – to name a few in the Old Testament.

In the New Testament Simeon and Anna as they waited patiently for decades for the arrival of the Messiah. And significantly the ageing St Paul. Read his “prison letters” – Ephesians, Colossians, Philippians, and perhaps especially Timothy and Titus – to get a flavour of this older person giving the sort of wisdom, care and concern that only the experience of many years of life can bring. John the Apostle who brought particular qualities to the writing of his Gospel which reflected that he had lived long, prayed much and was now an old man in exile on the Greek island of Patmos.

Twenty or so years ago the American writer Norman Fitzroy McLean (author of “A River Runs Through It and Other Stories”) decided, when he was in his mid-eighties, to embrace what he called “the anti-shuffleboard philosophy”. In other words a conscious resistance to doing the sort of things which people of his age – so-called American “old-timers” – were expected to do. Slippers and cardigans. Afternoon naps and retirement to the American equivalent of Bournemouth. That sort of thing.

He sort of rebelled and decided to write a book about the tragic “Mann Gulch Fire” of 1949 which had claimed the lives of 13 young fire-fighters. There had always been the suspicion of a cover-up by officialdom and McLean decided to investigate and write about what he discovered.

Apart from anything else this meant hugely physically demanding tramping around the Mann Gulch in the searing temperatures of the blistering Montana desert. He jokingly reported later that the fear of dying of a heart attack was replaced by a fear of dying of de-hydration! The result was an acclaimed book: “Young Men and Fire” published in 1992 shortly after his death – he’d worked on it right to the very end.

What Maclean also reflected upon – as he went about his task – was that life is an ever onward journey of productivity; of re-exploration of who we are and what God is calling us to do and be. He wrote this: “The problem of self-identity is a problem not simply for the young, but for us all“. In other words, at every, evolving stage of our lives God is longing to use what we have and who we are for the blessing of his world.

More than once I have felt myself being blessed most powerfully by God through very elderly people, perhaps from their hospital bed, sometimes in the last hours of their lives – something of the profound mystery of the love of God in the helplessness of Christ on the cross, perhaps – when I had gone in assuming the ministry was happening the other way around.

I can’t help thinking that maybe we are simply not realising as much as we might be what God might be longing to do through the ministry of older people – whether the very active retired or physically frail 98 year olds. A ministry which is usually totally unassuming, humbly offered, with good humour, compassion, kindness and wisdom – all of these things coming only after a lifetime of bumps, bruises, mistakes and wrong turns, but which amounts, at its best, to a reflection of God himself.

Yes, we all know crotchety older people. Perhaps bitter, angry and rather self-centred older people. But I suspect there are many, many more older people who are full of grace, care, concern and have huge amount to offer to God’s needy world.

Younger, middle aged or older. Whatever stage you are in life, do you know God values you utterly? Do you realise how much he loves you? Do you know that he still has things for you to do – maybe the greatest, most significant things in your life so far – and maybe more importantly, to be? For the good of others – those who he will bring across your path this week – his world, his Kingdom? Maybe now is the opportunity – whether you are 27, 47, 67 or 87, to discover just how exciting Christian discipleship can be as we follow and trust our amazing and faithful God.

A recent Church of England Report noted that in 2007 the average age of congregations was 61. Seven years on that may now possibly have increased.

Not surprising to any of us I’m quite sure. So often the response to this is deep – quite understandable – anxiety. Where are the young people? The missing generations? Perhaps our own children and grandchildren (a later sermon in the series will address this one specifically, especially the sadness – maybe the guilt – we feel, when our own families do not wish to have much to do with church, often despite our best efforts). What is going to happen in the future? What is happening now, when there seems to be no-one to take on the jobs that we feel, after many years of service, we would like to hand on to someone younger?

Now all these are huge questions, clearly. None of them has a quick-fix solution and many of them present a big challenge. But the worry and anxiety they cause can also be a distraction to what God is calling older Christian people to be and do, with all they specifically, uniquely, have to offer. That’s the thing we want to be exploring – and hopefully finding encouragement in – over the next few Sundays.

“You make new Christians by making Christians new”. So said Jack Nicholls, former Bishop of Sheffield. Perhaps you might like to consider coming along to the “Alpha” evenings beginning on Tuesday, 7th October. Every congregation member in each church will receive an invitation to come and explore what it means to follow Jesus: to live to the full the great adventure of discipleship.

Do you know that your baptism, however long ago that might have been, reflects the astonishing fact that God, in the power of Jesus and his Holy Spirit, is renewing us again, again and again throughout our lives? It may no longer be for energetic, physical service – although many in their sixties, seventies and even eighties – can continue to be very active.

But just think of the many things you have within you now – experiences you have garnered and which have shaped you – that you never had in your twenties, thirties, forties, fifties. Invaluable things. The things which God longs to use for the help and encouragement of the many – often younger people – who so need them.

As Paul wrote to the church in Rome – as we heard just now in the reading – let’s offer the whole of ourselves – present ourselves – our bodies and souls – as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, in service to him and to others. This is our spiritual sacrifice.

Never mind how tired, worn out, creaky we may feel in our physical bodies; never mind that we almost rattle with the number of tablets we seem to have to take nowadays; never mind that we might forget the odd thing or wonder what on earth it was we came to get out of the fridge. That makes no difference whatsoever to the fact that God calls us – the inner and totally unique person we truly are – to be re-born, renewed, brought to new life, new purpose, again and again and again. Until our dying breath, when our bodies themselves will be renewed, completely, in glory. That is what the Resurrection of Jesus is all about.

Amen.

“Never underestimate the small!”

This sermon was preached on 27.7.14 at St Andrew’s 9.30am and St Peter’s 11am Eucharist services. The readings were Genesis 29:15-28, Romans 8:26-end & Matthew 13: 31-33, 44-52

 

The Bradshaw family have just taken delivery of an African Pygmy Hedgehog called Josephine. Not, I have to confess, a pet I ever expected to keep – not that I am the official keeper I’m happy to say: that’s Daisy. The hedgehog is approaching eight weeks old and still quite little. Although of course not as tiny as when she was born hidden from view for a fortnight by her mother.

 

But since Josephine has taken up residence in Roker she hasn’t ceased to make an impact. Whether because of her spiky beauty, her little black nose, the occasional prick she administers to someone’s finger or the copious amounts of wee and other things she suddenly produces just when you pick her up. I’m hoping she’ll grow out of that!

 

But insignificantly sized as she is Josephine has certainly made an impression.

In his first sermon to the Diocese – stating his intention to encourage us in the big challenge of growing our churches – our new Bishop Paul Butler stated: “Never underestimate the small!”

 

Certainly smallness never bothered Jesus. He never seemed remotely interested in it in any negative sense. Quite the reverse, in fact. Smallness, apparent insignificance, was itself, for Jesus, very significant. In the busy Temple precincts it was the poor widow putting her final copper coins into the collection box which caught his attention, not the great amounts donated by the wealthy. On another “big crowd” occasion his attention was drawn, literally, to the physically small when he spotted the tax collector Zacchaeus up a tree – before inviting himself to tea at his house.

 

And for all that they followed him wherever he went in Galilee it wasn’t ultimately the big crowds that Jesus really, truly engaged with. It was individuals: real people – the boy with the loaves and fish; the woman with the haemorrhages; Bartimaus the blind beggar. Individuals in the crowds each in their own way drawing Jesus’ attention. One to one. Small scale ministry. At least numerically. Particular people. Here. And there.

 

Or small groups. Of twelve – or so. Or three: the sisters Martha and Mary and their brother Lazarus. Even the smallness – the frailty – of the disciples’ faith – faith so small in fact that when the reckoning moment came all but one or two ran away – wasn’t really a worry for Jesus.

 

Which is all very encouraging for us, of course.

 

And the gospel readings over the last couple of Sundays, as today, have laid emphasis on the small. In particular on seeds. Sowing, planting; God the farmer, scattering the seeds: these small, insignificant – even dead looking things – things you’d find it difficult to see if you dropped one on the carpet, let alone on the soil – and yet with the potential of budding to life and fruitfulness.

 

Clearly, not underestimating the small has always been God’s way. Not simply encouraging words from a newly arrived Bishop. And of course Paul Butler would agree entirely. That’s why he said it.

 

But, and I don’t know about you, I feel I’m being bombarded by big things at the moment. Overwhelmingly big sometimes. Massive. What on earth is going on in the Middle East? Gaza. Children, women, men. Lives wiped out in a dreadful instant. What on earth? What on earth is going on when hundreds of totally innocent people, young and old, families, young couples, lose their lives when their aeroplane is shot from the sky? It’s almost too much to take. The sheer destructive, murderous evil. The bigness of this incomprehensible stuff is almost overwhelming. And what answer is there to give when people ask: “Where is your God now?”.

 

What do we say? How do we respond to these impossible situations in our own minds, let alone when others ask, when we long – along with good, reasonable people who have no faith at all – that God deals with the dreadful stuff going on in the world right now, once and for all.

 

A read of a few of the psalms – and I think we need to use the psalms more often than we do – will reassure us that this is quite a normal response and we’re certainly not the first to think these thoughts. Feel these feelings. Cry out from the bottom of our hearts for God to bring an end to the anguish felt by regions of our world today.

 

But what do we say? What, at the end of the day, is our faith based on – at least in the historical sense? Well, it’s based on a baby born in a stable, in an obscure town in an insignificant backwater of the Empire of Rome, twenty centuries ago. It’s based on a man being nailed to and dying on a cross alongside who knows how many others that particular year? In terms of world, national – even local – significance at the time this was smallness, smallness and smallness again. In terms of Jesus as merely a man, it was pretty small beer.

 

It’s no wonder that St Paul saw instantly that this must be incomprehensible – “foolishness” – to many people. This notion of faith in a so called “Son of God” who died on a cross. What significance was that to the big questions of life? How was that meant to solve the problems of the universe? And so he wrote in his first letter to the church in Corinth.

 

And it remains true today. Many think we are hopelessly naive. Gullible. Lacking any real thinking capacity. Yet Paul himself – and many, many others since – have brought along supremely keen intellects and have found themselves convinced of the truth of the Gospel.

 

And going back for a moment to that picture, that idea God gives us, of the seeds. Holding a few in your hand they feel so lifeless. Dead. Almost.

 

And yet not.

 

This is why Easter is not simply a wonderful springtime celebration of an extraordinary event which happened sometime around the middle of the first century. The Resurrection of Jesus is a fact which we must carry with us in our hearts and lives every day of our lives. It is simply too significant to leave in March or April.

 

The Resurrection tells us that all the terrible, dreadful things in the world can never be stronger, greater, more powerful than the death of Jesus on the cross and the utter love that God was demonstrating there for the whole world. None of it. None of it has the last word.

 

“Who will separate us from the love of Christ?” asks Paul. “Will hardship or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword?” Or we might add: our worries about our health or that of someone we love, or a relationship that’s gone wrong; or maybe the guilt over something or other we have carried for years; or our own doubts and fears about whatever else? Or indeed Israel and Palestine and the appalling loss of life there; Northern Nigeria, the innocent victims of Flight MH17.

 

No! No! says Paul (and heaven knows he lived in a world every bit as incomprehensively, appallingly violent as our own, and had many of his own personal troubles besides): “No. In all these things we are more than conquerers through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord”.

 

Nothing. Nothing. Whatever it is. However big, how overwhelming it seems. However threatening to any possible hope for peace in a world like ours – groaning as in labour pains – as Paul writes a few verses earlier. However things may, from time to time, threaten to swamp us, knock us from places that we feel we are clinging to by our fingertips. There is nothing. Nothing that will ever separate us from God’s love for us.

 

The cross and the Resurrection of Jesus says God loves this world so completely that he will never, never give up on it.

 

Yes, there is often an invisibleness about love which makes it seem as though it is not there. Who knows, apart from God, how many acts of loving, courageous, service are going on – right now in Gaza? Or in any of these places? I’d lay a bet that there are many. Love doesn’t make grand gestures, look for recognition or reward. How could it then, truly be love?

 

But it doesn’t mean that it isn’t there. That God isn’t there. Working through the compassionate spirit of the humanity he made in his image. And this is particularly God’s purpose for the Church – us, ordinary-extraordinary people that we are – as he gets on with growing his Kingdom of Heaven on earth.

 

Yes, of course great love, great acts of kindness, grace, courage, exemplary, inspirational compassion can be shown by people of other faiths and of no faith at all. But it is particularly through God’s Church, as was his intention and design and which has at its very heart the self-giving love of Jesus on the cross – a self-giving love which has the power to transform our hearts – that God’s love – his commitment, his compassion, his servanthood, needs to be seen. And as I say, that’s you, and that’s me.

 

It’s back to those seeds again. Planted in good soil. Quietly growing. In acts of service, generosity and joyfulness. Enlivened with the Living Water, that is: trusting, day by day, Jesus Christ. Nurtured with God’s word, the bible. Like…well, like a mustard seed, which, though tiny, with the potential to grow and grow. Or perhaps like yeast spreading through flour to leaven the dough, producing bread which is good, wholesome, tasty, life-giving.

 

And then sharing this goodness with the world like a great treasure which has been hidden and is now found. Or a pearl – a wonderful, beautiful, priceless pearl – against which there is no match for all the riches of the world.

 

That is what we have been given in Jesus. Let’s live it and share this great hope for the world.

 

Amen.

“Many were baptized and added to the community”

Here’s the sermon for the 11th May (Easter 4) from St Andrew’s & St Peter’s Eucharists.
The readings were Acts 2:42-47, 1 Peter 2: 19-25 and John 10:1-10

I’d just quickly like to re-read our first reading from Acts…..

“Many were baptized and added to the community”.

It’s certainly true that nearly 2000 years later many, many people – usually as infants – are still being baptized, certainly in our part of the country. In our own Parish of Monkwearmouth we have between six and ten baptisms every month. On Palm Sunday, when, at St Peter’s, I repeated my half serious invitation that if anyone knew anyone who might like to be baptized in the North Sea at our Easter Dawn service, someone came up to me afterwards to say that he did know someone who might like to be baptized in this way. I had to do a quick calculation of the tide times to add to the calculated time of the sunrise that morning! Although there were other reasons why we didn’t in the end go ahead, there appears to be no shortage of interest in baptism. Which is actually great good news for the Church.

So, just thinking back to our reading from Acts, if it’s still patently true that many continue to be baptized it’s the being “added to the community” bit where things don’t don’t seem to be working – not in the way that Luke reports in the vivid, exciting picture he paints of the early Church. Of many hundreds of people, lives transformed by the power of the resurrected Christ and his Holy Spirit, being baptized and beginning a new life of membership in God’s family, a people, Christ’s body here on earth, the Church. Where great things were beginning to be done in God’s name, offering the world new hope, new life, new joy, new purpose.

If the “being added to the community” bit were happening in our day there wouldn’t be room enough in our churches to hold everyone. Think of it. Between six and ten baptisms a month in our Parish. Times twelve that would be between 60 and 100 newly baptised members a year – up to 500 every five years – without including parents and godparents.

Now I want to say straight away that this is nothing new to many of us here. That over the years and continuing into the present there have been many across the Parish who have been working hard and faithfully – visiting families, helping with baptism preparation, meeting and greeting baptism enquirers at Surgery on Wednesday evenings, being present at services, welcoming and assisting.

Heart and soul dedication, warmth of welcome, prayerfulness – it’s second to none and I want to say thank you. Thank you if you have been involved in baptism ministry – and it is a ministry (in other words a service in the name of Jesus) – thank you for your hard work and faithfulness. And I am quite sure that God in many ways has been able, through you, to bring blessing to the great numbers who come our way asking for baptism for themselves or their children.

And yet. And yet. Despite the hard work. The warmth of the welcome. The precious time given up in already busy lives – despite all this – the “added to the community” bit still doesn’t seem to be working. Many still come requesting baptism, are welcomed, greeted, visited, attend baptism preparation – hopefully – ……and then we don’t see them again. Or at least not until another child is born and another baptism is requested.

Dispiriting it certainly can be. And it does seem strange, at least from our perspective. Baptism in the Christian understanding, marks the entry point, the start point of discipleship, the beginning of membership of the Church: “a family currently numbering two and a half billion members world-wide, of which your children are the very newest members”, I sometimes say at a baptism service. We do our level best to try and explain this. The baptism service is very plain. It invites parents and godparents to help the newly baptized person take up their rightful place in “the life and worship” of God’s family, the Church.

And yet, after which service we often never see our new family members again. I sometimes think it’s a bit like being given a season ticket and never joining the other supporters and going to a match. Or the keys to a fantastic car – a Ferrari or whatever – or the title deeds to a lovely house, or tickets to a wonderful holiday and holding these things for a few moments – making an occasion of it – and then putting them to one side. Not enjoying the great gift that has been offered.

And what is this gift? Nothing other than God himself. In Jesus, the one who gives us strength in all things, peace beyond measure, forgiveness, wholeness, purpose. Life in all its fulness. It’s not simply about “going to church”. But maybe that’s the problem. The thought that some people perhaps have that that’s all it is. Coming to a big stone building each week and singing hymns. If that is the case, if it is what people think, including those many who come for baptisms – even if it’s wrong – but if it’s what people think – then a whole load of obstacles begin to stack up:

Unfamiliarity with services and the worry about feeling awkward or foolish; a ready assumption that it must be boring or irrelevant; that it’s impractical on a Sunday morning; “I’m not good enough”, believe it or not, I’ve heard being given as a reason for not coming to church. Above all else, a belief for many who do, perhaps quietly, struggle for meaning and purpose – look for answers to the big questions in life – that coming to church will not provide them with what they are looking for. And that’s a challenge to us always to work hard to try to provide every opportunity to show people that it can and does.

No, being baptised isn’t just about joining in the traditions of the Church: particular, locally inherited styles of worship or whatever. Of course not. When people say or think that they’re quite right. But neither is coming together for worship an optional extra: a choice. And “choice” is something which speaks very strongly into people’s lives today, and can be another issue as to whether people become part of the Church.

Look again at our reading from Acts: “They broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the good will of the people”. It actually sounds wonderful. Hugely attractive to want to join. These are the first communion services. The first Christians – men, women, children – in communion with one another and, together, in communion with God. Fellowship, prayer and broken bread shared in the name of Christ.

It is in God’s great wisdom that he instructs us to come together – for as long as we are able physically to do so. It is meeting together – in enjoying being together – that we are strengthened for service in his name. It is the very best way that his Spirit is enabled to breathe life into his people, the Church, and, though sent out often in our separate directions, through shared active service, give hope to the world.

It may be tempting to get a little tetchy with baptism families and the many friends they bring with them – “they just want the occasion” (and they do certainly want to celebrate); “they don’t take it seriously”; “it’s just a family tradition” or whatever; “they don’t know how to behave in church” (and some big baptisms can certainly get a bit rowdy!); “they get dressed up like they’re going to a nightclub”. And it’s true that none of this makes it particularly easy for us to share with them the profound gift God is offering in baptism.

“They” do this, or “they” don’t do that or whatever. “They”. “Them”. Well, Christ died for “them” too. Perhaps many simply have never had the chance to know it yet. Nobody’s told them. Nobody’s shown them. They simply don’t know what God is like. Have never yet known the transforming friendship to be found in the person of Jesus Christ – his incredible grace and all embracing, unconditional love.

The scary thing is that it’s us – and only us – that can show them.

I have to say that in visiting families who come to us for baptism – young mums and dads – I have only ever encountered real human beings: anxious to do the right thing for their children; often a little nervous that the vicar is coming to see them; sometimes stressed and tired from a busy day, yet often full of energy and ideas and imagination; wanting to take the whole business of life (including the baptism of their children) seriously; vulnerable; gracious; shy; hospitable; struggling with pressures of various kinds, not least the demands of young children; demonstrating all kinds of wonderful potential.

How do we do it? How do we enable the many who come to the churches of our parish for baptism to move along from the opportunities we have with them for the encounter, engagement and involvement I mentioned a couple of Sundays’ ago to discipleship and active membership of God’s great family? Well, of course, firstly, it’s not ultimately up to us to try to work for “a result”. It is God’s Spirit which ultimately prompts the human heart and it is for the owner of that heart to respond or not. But we still need to do what we can.

Perhaps we feel that the task is just beyond us. The cultural gulf between Church and life lived in contemporary secular society just too big. The issues too complex. The challenge insurmountable. The sheer numbers overwhelming. Then I do invite you to pray about it. Shortly, there will be available the names of all those who have been recently baptized. Please pray for them and their families.

And also, please, pray regularly for all those of us who are engaged directly in baptism ministry, whether on Wednesday evenings at the Parish Office, the Baptism Preparation evening on the final Thursday of the month, during home visits and on Sunday mornings in the baptism services now held each week. Consider, too, staying around for baptism services, to meet, greet and welcome, get to know the many who come to us.

There is no task too big, too challenging for the Spirit of God. Let’s call on him to help us. Imagine if all those many hundreds of baptized children, with their families really did begin to be added to the community of Christ, just in those first days of the Church. Let’s allow our imagination to excite us, and then see what, with God’s help, we might do about it. Perhaps we need our own thinking challenging, too. Maybe for too long we have expected not to see baptism families again rather than wonder why it might be that they don’t return, or what we might do that might, just might, encourage some to come back.

Just a final thought about our reading from Acts. Yes – God was doing something very specific at this point: he poured out his Holy Spirit in the most dramatic, extraordinary way in Jerusalem at Pentecost in order to kick-start the Church; we might well expect there to have been mass conversions – just as, indeed, in our very own Parish little more than a century ago in the time of Alexander Boddy, the Holy Spirit, likewise, was poured out at Hall of All Saints’ Church.

But in both these defining moments – as though sending a current through an electric lightbulb lighting up every corner in a room – God was showing what the Church could and should be like. A vision for us to pray and work for. When all might hear clearly the voice of the Good Shepherd Jesus and “have life in all its abundance”.
Amen.

What is “evangelism”?

This is the sermon from the Eucharist at St. Andrew’s & St. Peter’s on the 27th April (Easter 2).
It’s the start of our series leading up to the formation of three Mission & Ministry Development teams, one for each church in the parish.
The readings were Acts 2:14a, 22-32, 1 Peter 1:3-9 and John 20: 19-end.
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What is “evangelism”? Maybe we have a vision of Billy Graham. Or perhaps someone knocking on doors, bible in hand, or standing on street corners proclaiming to no one in particular.

Our reading from the Acts of the Apostles gives us, perhaps, an image of archetypal evangelism in action. Here’s Peter, full of the Holy Spirit. Full of the joy of the knowledge of the risen Christ he’s seen him himself just days before – proclaiming before great crowds the reality of Jesus, the one he had so fearfully denied so very recently. Urging his listeners to turn away from their selfish lives and back to God. Here he is proclaiming from the bottom of his heart that Jesus is Lord! Which is wonderful. Great and inspiring stuff. Proof positive too, I think, of the resurrection. What else could have so transformed Peter and the other disciples from the trembling, fearful men of jelly they were to the bold, irrepressible speakers they were now, persuading, preaching with impassioned words, that all should see the error of their ways, repent, be converted to the grace and joyful discipleship of the risen Lord Jesus?

I think that much of what we understand of the word “evangelism” comes from this image. Of proclamation and conversion.

For over sixty years, in many places around the world, Billy Graham preached, probably literally to millions, and countless numbers were converted. Many will recall Billy Graham’s “Mission England” in 1984 – perhaps you went to hear him at Roker Park. I know there was a great impact for St Andrew’s at the time. I heard him at Ashton Gate in Bristol.

And there have been many more like him – Luis Pallau is a particularly effective evangelist and many have great cause to thank God for using people like this. Such events and such individuals really have marked a turning point and revival for many people, personally and for churches.

And yet, and yet. I don’t believe this is the whole story or the complete definition of what evangelism is or has ever been. I don’t think that it is coincidence that the great revival meetings are not the way to do things just at the moment. For the past twenty years and more there has been much more focus on learning, thinking, inviting. Alpha, Emmaus and other Christian courses rather than big events have been the ways that many have begun a life of discipleship.

And yet – with a recent focus on the very real need for the Church to grow in numbers and in faith – frankly to reverse a decline in many areas – a fresh look is being taken with this business of evangelism.

For many decades now, and this is despite what the Prime Minister says about our being a Christian country, the numbers of people coming to church on a Sunday morning has been declining. Which is depressing. Worrying. Isn’t it? I certainly find it depressing and worrying.

Many people in the current age – good people, decent people, kind people. People we respect. People amongst our families and friends, seem totally impervious to the message of Jesus and to feeling a need to belong to a church. Now there are all sorts of reasons for this. A general move away from institutions of all kinds. A disinclination to accept being told what is wrong with your life. Sometimes, sadly, a bad personal experience of church. Increasingly, it’s simple ignorance – many people are now growing into adulthood simply not knowing what Church is like or about. The impression – perhaps wrongly – that church is boring, hypocritical and simply irrelevant to their lives. The asking of some pretty difficult questions like “How can a God of love allow so much suffering?” The comfortable life of a material age. All that. And more.

How is it that those of us who have known and know the amazing, life-transforming gift of the risen Lord Jesus, the gracious, amazing power of his Holy Spirit giving us peace and strength and purpose, direction, wholeness and forgiveness – and the utter relevance that this is for the needs of the human heart – how is it that we can share that with others, overcoming all the issues which get
in the way today – so that they can know it too?

Which brings us back to “evangelism” – literally meaning, the “carrying of the Good News of Jesus”. Is it just about charismatic speakers and vast crowds? No, that’s not the whole picture. Certainly not one which is particularly useful in our own day and age. A day and age in which, incidentally, I believe people take decisions in life every bit as carefully, as morally, as thoughtfully, as they ever have. Maybe more so. Just not in a Christian framework.

Evangelism – quite simply – is the business of giving as many people as we possibly can the correct picture of God in Jesus Christ and of his Church, his body here, active and at work on earth. That he is utterly relevant, completely active and totally real. That he is not a figment of the imagination of those strange people who go to the pointy buildings on Sunday mornings but has purpose, concern and involvement in the lives of every single individual and of the whole world.

And I have to say that these past couple of years have seen a hugely encouraging demonstration of that. Food Banks, Credit Unions, Night Shelters, Street Angels, Street Pastors, imaginative use of the space in church buildings, such as “Space 4” at St Michael’s and All Angels in Houghton le Spring and “Breathing Space” at another St Michael’s and All Angels at Witton Gilbert. The church debated nationally – positively and, it seems, personally – promoted by the Prime Minister, to the point that the poor old secularists are writing worried letters of protest to The Times. An Archbishop of Canterbury and a Pope who are unequivocally combative in their stance on injustice and equally as vocal that it is Jesus Christ who is at the centre of their and all our lives.

Social engagement and action. The Church showing, demonstrating, enabling people to see that God is good news for them. Whatever their preconceptions or misconceptions.

For me, you know, evangelism is, as much as anything, catching the attention of the world with something which makes utter sense. What so many churches have – and we certainly have it in Monkwearmouth – is opportunity to do just this. Opportunities for encounter. Not only in our daily lives but also with the many who come during the week to our church buildings, for all sorts of reasons; and looking – with the resources we have – to create new opportunities for encounter with people we have never yet met.

Opportunities for engagement. To get to know. To listen to. In a Christlike way. To let people know that they have value, worth and purpose.

Opportunities for involvement. Giving others the chance to contribute. So important. I am bowled over by the generosity of spirit of people I have barely got to know; who have had no previous involvement with the church. But who say, “I can help you with that”.

People – all people – long to belong, to be part of something. To be part of something bigger than themselves. Just stand on Wearmouth Bridge at 2pm on a Saturday afternoon to see that. Of course, they do. It’s how God made us. And to believe, too. Ditto about the Wearmouth Bridge on a Saturday. To believe, as well, that life has, at its heart, something good, honest, worth hoping and living and working for. Again, that’s how God made us to be. Belonging, Believing – Behaving. The final, joyful realisation that God is God and living our lives in response the reality of his amazing love. That’s evangelism, and it all begins with enabling people to see the sense of it all, to know that they, too, are loved utterly and their contribution is valued.

Over the next few weeks we will be starting the process of bringing together three Mission and Ministry Development Groups – one for each District. For a number of years, as many know, the Parish has had a Shared Ministry Development Team: the “SMDT”, whose aim was to share with the clergy, the responsibility for encouraging the development of gifts and the practical outworking of the ministry of God’s love. In some ways the aim is the same but perhaps with more emphasis outwardly, towards those outside the Church, and that each District, with its own distinct heritage and geographical opportunities, will have its own Group. Prayerfully, in the context of each church – St Andrew’s, St Peter’s and All Saints’ – the Groups will meet, pray, reflect upon ways that we can as God’s Church in this place encounter, engage with, involve those many around about us. That belonging they might believe and that in believing, by God’s grace, might become part of the church. But that’s God’s business. Our business is to imitate Christ as best we can. Serving, welcoming, affirming.

But it’s not just for groups and teams. It’s the job of all of us. Each one. In our Gospel this morning Jesus said to his disciples – and to us – “As the Father has sent me, so I send you”. A bit scary? Well, maybe. And as the New Testament reading from the first letter of Peter reminds us faith can be testing – how could it be real faith if it wasn’t? But Jesus has something to say about that, also from our Gospel reading. In fact he says it three times, just to get it through the disciples’ thick heads – maybe ours, too. Just to make sure we get it. “Peace be with you”, he says. “Peace be with you”.

Wherever we go, whatever we do, God’s peace will be with us. And in breathing his Spirit on his disciples – and us – Jesus, God, himself, is within us, giving us his strength. We just need to get on with it.

Amen.

♪ ♫ So here it is… ♫ ♪

This is the sermon preached at both St. Andrew’s & St. Peter’s on 22nd December – 4th Sunday of Advent.

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So, are you ready for Christmas? Are you prepared – or do you feel like there’s still loads to do?

Well, however you are feeling about Christmas today, take a few moments to relax. Maybe close your eyes. I’d like us to use our imaginations for a bit. Imagine it’s tonight – you’ve had a busy day, what with church this morning, then rushing to get dinner sorted so you can come back at 4 ‘o’ clock for the Parish Christmas Celebration, then dash to St. Peter’s at 7pm for the Traditional Lessons & Carols. You’ve had a glass of mulled wine and too many mince pies afterwards, and now, you’re ready for bed. You drift off into sleep – and something happens.

An angel ‘appears’ – how does that happen to you? A voice in your head? A sense – a feeling – a physical presence..? However it happens to you, this is a real possibility – it’s happened to plenty of others before.

The angel brings a message. You’ve recently found out something about somebody who you care for deeply – something that indicates they have broken the law, and hurt you in the process. You’ve decided to cut off your ties from them, but in such a way as not to expose them to shame & humiliation – at least, as best as you can. Yet this messenger says you are to stick by this person – not in spite of what they have done, but because what they have done is actually the right thing, no matter what others say. The explanation of the situation, of how it is really ok, is impossible – or at least you think is impossible – and God wants you to be part of it.

What’s your gut reaction as I say that? He wouldn’t ask me! He couldn’t ask me! I would do anything for God (but I won’t do that…)

It’s interesting that Matthew chooses to tell this part of the story from Joseph perspective, unlike Luke who explains it all from Mary’s angle. Joseph isn’t involved in the conception of Jesus at all, yet Matthew makes him centre stage – why? Well, partly because, through Joseph, Jesus becomes part of the house of David, thus fulfilling the scriptures and adding weight to his being the promised Messiah. But more so, it is to emphasize a particular human response to God’s word which Matthew sees as essential to Christianity.

Luke emphasises Mary’s response to the angel – the response of a young woman, promised in marriage & old enough to know where babies come from, who knows what is expected of her when she is wed… and the consequences of what happens to girls who are seen to have done such things before they are married Yet she is somebody who is innocent enough, possibly naïve enough, to trust the angel’s words, to accept them wholeheartedly, and to allow God’s will to be done to her.

Matthew, through Joseph, focuses on the active part of the human response to the incarnation. Three times Joseph is given instruction by an angel in a dream, and three times he must do something in response to the message. In this instance, it is to take Mary to be his wife and ensure the child is named Jesus. Later, he is told to flee to Egypt to save Jesus from the slaughter of the innocents, and finally he is told to return to Israel – each time, he obeys, seemingly without hesitation. But Joseph was just a man – and I imagine there must have been times it all seemed too much. When they were travelling to Bethlehem for the census & he was having to nurse his pregnant wife. When he could not provide proper accommodation for the woman he loved, and had to witness her go through the agonies of childbirth in a dirty stable.

Yet he chooses to stay faithful, to believe, as the Queen of Hearts does in Lewis Carroll’s Alice Through The Looking Glass, at least six impossible things before breakfast.

So this coming week we celebrate the birth of Jesus, and the point when those impossible things became possible. And at that point, the story begins again. Go into any shop, pub, café & chances are the usual Christmas pop songs are blasting out – which is nice, except when they’ve had the same CD on since November! But, love or loathe them, maybe they are worth a second listen. You see, I think Slade were on to something. “So here it is, Merry Christmas! Everybody’s having fun! Look to the future now, it’s only just begun” sings Noddy Holder. And if we turn away from the commercialisation & celebrate a true Christmas – by which I mean observe Advent as a season in itself & celebrate Christmas over it’s intended 12 days – then Christmas Day does indeed mark the point where we should celebrate the birth of the Saviour of the world, God’s Word made flesh, Immanuel, God with us – then look to the future which has, indeed, only just begun. If we dare to allow Christmas to be a new beginning, if we welcome Christ into our world, either again or for the first time, and let him use us, inspire us, even love us – then it will be a truly new beginning.

Just as Mary’s life was changed by her encounter with the angel, by welcoming Christ into her, and by sharing him with others, ours can be too. Her’s is a very human story – and yes, there appears to be times when she was scared of the repercussions this would have for herself & the family – for example, when she and his brothers & sisters go to intervene when he is seemingly out of control (Mark 3:31-35). She’s his mother – she wants to keep him, and the family, safe. But her overwhelming attitude is that of sharing him with the world – as a baby in the manger with the shepherds, as a young boy with the magi, at the temple with Simeon and Anna, etc., etc., because she knows who he is. She trusts. She believes. And she knows it is important for the world to know that. She even encourages him to do his first miracle, at the wedding in Cana.

Just as Joseph’s life was changed by his encounter with the angel – by getting on and doing what God had called him to do, despite the social stigma it would bring, despite the danger, the challenge, the cost to his own ego… ours can be changed too. Jesus ends the Sermon on the Mount by saying “Not everyone who says to me ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but only one who does the will of my Father in heaven (Matthew 7:21).

Paul also challenges us, in his letter to the Romans, declaring our Lord is the one “through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name; including ourselves who are called to belong to Jesus Christ.”

Dare we let Mary’s story inspire us to let Jesus in, completely in, to let him turn our lives upside down, and to share him with those around us? Dare we let Joseph’s story inspire us to go out on a limb for Jesus, to put ourselves in a counter-cultural, vulnerable place for He who came into this world to save us?

Christmas doesn’t end with the birth of Jesus – it begins. Christmas starts with Christ. Are we ready, really ready, for Christmas..?