Last Sunday's Thought: on saving souls by preaching and through our worship

‘Go on; go on; go on; in God’s name go on, for if the preaching of the gospel does not save men, nothing will…’ Charles Haddon Spurgeon (1834 -1892).

         They [the young church congregation] devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved (Acts 2:42-47).

Perhaps we need to reflect regularly on this passage from Acts and make it the centrepiece of our life as a Christian family. I draw to your attention the phrase ‘having the goodwill of all the people’. This was a ‘Jerusalem spring’, predating the execution of Stephen, when the early Christian community enjoyed reasonable fellowship and goodwill with the main body of Jewish opinion. It was before the great persecution that followed Stephen’s death, which brought out the reality of Jesus’ prediction that Jerusalem always had – and presumably always would – execute its prophets: ‘Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!’ (Luke 13:34). The period of the ‘Jerusalem spring’ could hardly have lasted much more than two years, if we assume that Jesus was executed in 33 AD and Stephen was martyred in 35 or 36 AD.         

Nevertheless, the period before the persecution of the early Christian church was important. It leads us to consider our method of evangelism and whether the early Christians can teach us a thing or two. Contrast the words of Paul in his letter to the Philippians: ‘many live as enemies of the cross of Christ; I have often told you of them, and now I tell you even with tears. Their end is destruction; their god is the belly; and their glory is in their shame; their minds are set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven’ (Philippians 3:18-20).         

Without wishing to denounce Paul for intolerance towards non-believers (he was, after all, trying to preserve intact a fledgling church), we might nevertheless observe that in the sentiment he expresses there may be construed a desire to ensure that Christians keep their distance from non-Christians. Distance leads to disapproval. If Christians show their disapproval, or voice their disapproval, how can they win friends, let alone converts? It’s a poor evangelism strategy as well as an un-Christian attitude that is being displayed.

To win over people, you have to follow a different course of action. We can’t judge people or disapprove people into a change of belief system and life values. Instead, we have to empathize with them and love them as our neighbours. If we meet them, if we pray for their wellbeing and if we inspire others by the humility and authenticity of our own beliefs and lifestyle, then we may gradually win converts to our faith. It is not likely to be fast. It is not likely to be easy. It requires our consistent application. Above all, it has to be guided by God as does everything else we do.

It should not surprise us that the so-called ‘prince of preachers’ emphasised our need to ‘believe in preaching the love of Christ, believe in preaching the atoning sacrifice, believe in preaching the new birth, believe in preaching the whole counsel of God. … Salvation by the sacrifice of Jesus is the ultimatum of God. Rejoice that it cannot fail. Let us believe without reserve, and then go straight ahead with the preaching of the Word.’

Today we would not place such an emphasis on a single strategy for the ‘winning of souls’. Many churches still rely almost solely on the spoken word to carry the burden of proclamation. However, ‘even in the Old Testament the services of worship involved all of the senses: sight, smell, taste, touch, as well as hearing. Modern learning theory also indicates that the more senses are involved in an experience, the more impact it makes, especially for children. This suggests that the worship experience should be concerned with more than just preaching and music.’ At the very least, worship should involve visual as well as auditory experience.

However, the continuing power Spurgeon’s words, and the fact that although he died in 1892 his sermons are still studied today, should remind us of the importance of proclamation in our worship. Greg Laurie cautions us to beware of ‘dumbing down’ in our services. ‘People and churches’, he writes, ‘develop an appetite for what they are accustomed to being fed. A church with a steady diet of feel-good sermonettes in place of solid teaching from Scripture might eventually grow to become a large congregation – but it will be weak and immature.’ ‘Just because people have developed an appetite for empty calories’, he cautions, ‘doesn’t mean their bodies have no need for nutritious meals... There’s a reason Scripture tells pastors to “devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to preaching and to teaching” (1 Timothy 4:13).’

‘Preaching Christ so people will trust in Him. This is something… people can’t hear enough about. [We all] need the hope, the faith and the love that is only found in the Gospel. We are not called to give tips for successful independent living, or to offer life coaching team talks. We are called to preach Christ and Him crucified [1 Corinthians 1:23, 2:2], that all may trust in Him, know Him, enjoy Him.’

Thought for Ash Wednesday: taking personal responsibility we can pass through flesh and dust

By far the biggest religious story in the news this week has been the impending resignation on 28 February of Pope Benedict XVI on grounds of failing physical and mental health. It is a story of the acceptance of personal responsibility. As John Paul II’s closest adviser, Benedict when still Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger had seen the previous Pope incapacitated by ill health in his last months and clearly decided that for this to happen again would be detrimental to the interests of the Catholic Church.

The news of Benedict XVI’s impending resignation came against the backdrop of another story, from the world of British domestic politics, stretching back to the year 2003. It was in that year that a candidate for election to the leadership of one our political parties persuaded his then wife to claim that she, and not he, had been driving in excess of the speed limit and therefore should receive three penalty points on her driving licence (which, if he had accepted the penalty would have resulted in his receiving a ban from driving). For ten years, the politician lied about his decision and only faced up to his responsibilities and resigned his seat in Parliament last week. The case against his former wife for perverting the course of justice continues. She claims to have been coerced by her husband into accepting the penalty points. Neither former husband – the ex-politician – nor former wife, it seems, have been prepared to accept personal responsibility for their decisions at the time.

The acceptance of personal responsibility by the Christian is our theme because it is a central concern for Lent. In our liturgy, we hear in Psalm 51 king David accepting responsibility for his actions and asking for forgiveness by God. It’s a good place to start, and much more satisfactory than Genesis 3:12, where Adam seeks to shirk his responsibility for eating the apple which had been strictly forbidden (cf. Genesis 2:17) by telling God that ‘the woman whom Thou gavest to be with me’ had passed him the forbidden fruit. ‘It wasn’t my fault, guv’, we can almost hear in Adam’s words. ‘It was the woman what led me astray.’

It is perfectly possible for the believer to hear the words of Jesus and to ignore them: Jesus’ parable of the man who builds his home on rock and the other who does so on sand is interpreted as the one who hears Jesus’ words  and acts upon them, as against the one who does not (Matthew 7:21-28). Again, the emphasis is upon the personal responsibility of the believer. ‘Repent, therefore, and turn to God so that your sins may be wiped out…’ we read in Acts 3:19.

God has set the standards for which we are responsible and by which we are measured. They are explained in His law as revealed in Scripture. It tells us what is good and what God requires of us. ‘He has showed you, O man, what is good’ we read in Micah 6:8. ‘And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.’ Some day all of us have to give an account for our sins of commission and omission. ‘For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive what is due for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad’ (2 Cor. 5:10). Chapter 20 of the Book of Revelation has a graphic image of the book of life: ‘And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Then another book was opened, which is the book of life. And the dead were judged by what was written in the books, according to what they had done’ (Revelation 20:12). Salvation is not only based in faith but in repentance of sin. Repentance is not just asking for forgiveness, as does the penitent thief hanging on the cross next to Jesus (Luke 23:42). Repentance is forsaking sin and trusting in Jesus Christ (metanoia). We are all called to make an active choice to trust in Jesus Christ.

‘Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return’ (Genesis 3:19) the priest pronounces at the imposition of the ashes of Ash Wednesday. It is intended to provide us with a sober appraisal of the context of our existence. That context is dust. Indeed, it is in our dust that we are saved.

We know that the Word became flesh like us. ‘“The flesh is the hinge of salvation” (Tertullian). We believe in God who is creator of the flesh; we believe in the Word made flesh in order to redeem the flesh; we believe in the resurrection of the flesh, the fulfilment of both the creation and the redemption of the flesh’ (Catechism of the Catholic Church, para 1015).

The Word also became dust like us. ‘Rightly understood’, Karl Rahner writes, “you are dust” ‘is a complete expression of life.’ Rahner continues: ‘When on Ash Wednesday we hear the words “remember you are dust” we are told then that we are brothers and sisters of the incarnate Lord. We are told everything that we are: nothingness that has been filled with eternity; death that teems with life; futility that redeems; dust that is God’s life forever.’

         So when we hear the words that we are dust, these are not a source of despair, but the best words we will ever hear. It is in our dust that we are saved. But it can only be thus if we accept our personal responsibilities first. We return to the words of Karl Rahner in his essay Dust You are: ‘flesh designates not only the pivot and hinge of the movement into nothingness and death, but also the pivot and hinge of a movement that passes through death’s nothingness and forlornness into life, into eternity, into God.  Ever since that moment, the sentence of terrifying judgment, “dust you are” is changed for the person of faith and love. The old sense is not abolished; the old sense must be endured and experienced in tears, in the bitterness of nothingness and death, in evil and dying, in the bitterness of limitations. But the downward motion of the believer, the descent with Christ into the dust of the earth, has become an upward motion, an ascent above the highest heavens. Christianity does not set us free from the flesh and dust, nor does it bypass flesh and dust; it goes right through flesh and dust.’

         Thus, death is not the end of our dust. The cross is our sign. It signifies what Paul proclaimed without ceasing: ‘If the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through His Spirit which dwells in you’ (Romans 8:11).

Thought on the Gospel of the Transfiguration: we've been to the mountaintop

Giovanni Bellini, Transfiguration (c. 1455-60):

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Bellini_Transfiguration.jpg

         ‘I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land.’

         The words are those of Martin Luther King, uttered on 3 April 1968, the eve of his assassination, at Memphis, Tennessee. In what seems in retrospect to have been a premonition of his imminent murder, King alludes to Deuteronomy 34, where Moses climbs Mount Nebo so as to be able to see the promised land, but is told by God that he will not cross over into it.

         The Bible is replete with mountaintop experiences, some of which have a marked effect on the individual concerned as well as those who encounter him. ‘When Aaron and all the Israelites saw Moses, the skin of his face was shining, and they were afraid to come near him’ (Exodus 34:30). The skin of Moses’ face shone because it was a reflection of the Glory which he had seen when he was with God. It was the result of that partly-answered prayer, ‘I beseech You, show me Your Glory’ (Exodus 33:18). God could not, at that time, grant the prayer in its fullness for Moses was not capable of such vision – God had told him, ‘You cannot see My face and live’ (Exodus 33:20). Nevertheless, the brilliantly shining face of Moses was the result of fellowship with God.

This communion with God included intense intercession for the people. Moses had to intercede vigorously for the Israelites. ‘Although this is a stiff-necked people’, he recognized, ‘forgive our wickedness and our sin, and take us as your inheritance’ (Exodus 34:9) he pleaded.

In the gospel accounts by Matthew, Mark and Luke, only Luke states that Jesus and the three disciples went up the mountain to pray. On this outdoor mountain experience the three disciples receive a revelation of Jesus’ Glory. Jesus is made to shine bright as lightening as He stands near Moses and Elijah, representing the early and later periods of Old Testament history. The two great men appear in glory and speak of Jesus’ departure, which he is about to accomplish at Jerusalem. The three disciples also receive proof that Jesus really is the Son of God. A booming deep voice comes from Heaven saying that Jesus is indeed God’s very own Son. So the disciples additionally learn that our God is indeed a God who speaks. The third thing which the disciples gain is spiritual strength: they almost miss this, however, because of their somnolence and their fear (though Luke does not specifically mention fear or awe as do the other evangelists).

The gospel of the transfiguration brings us face to face with two apparently conflicting attributes of God: his transcendence and his immanence. By this we mean that God is both above the created order yet fully part of it. When Jesus is revealed as the son of God at the top of the mountain we have a vision of the transcendent God. When he and the disciples come down from the mountain, we see once more Jesus as man though we know him to be the son of God incarnate. The disciples did not know what to do with the information they had received: ‘And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.’ (Matthew and Mark specify that Jesus told them to tell no-one what they had seen ‘until the Son of Man is raised from the dead’, an expression which they did not understand.)

The Gospel of the Transfigurations tells us two things which are particularly relevant for us during Lent which approaches shortly. The first concerns the location of the Kingdom of Heaven. The second concerns the need to transfigure ourselves and our own hearts.

Where is the Kingdom of Heaven to be found? The kingdom of God is not just to be expected in the age to come, but has already been manifested, potentially at least, in the person and work of Jesus (what C. H. Dodd referred to as ‘realized eschatology’) and in the work of his disciples and the rebirth of faith that they brought about. In other words, if we follow not just the teachings but the actions of Jesus and his disciples we will be on the way to building the kingdom of heaven here on earth. In Luke’s Gospel, at Luke 17:21, we learn that ‘the kingdom of God is within [or: among] you’. The Greek term entos means ‘in the midst of’. So it really should be understood as Jesus saying the Kingdom of God is within your midst, or among you: it is wherever Jesus is, it accompanies him.

The kingdom of God is also somewhere else, however. It is also in our hearts, or at least potentially – but for this to happen, we have to believe in Christ’s transfiguration and be transfigured ourselves. Paul has several expressions which seek to give a sense of what this transformation brings about. ‘For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God’ (2 Cor. 5:21); ‘…it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me’ (Gal. 2:20); and ‘…now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine’ (Eph. 3:20). ‘The spirit is what lives in you’, Leo Tolstoy tells us in his remarkable but not entirely orthodox Gospel in Brief, ‘living freely and intelligently and of which you can know no end and no beginning.’

This, then, is one of the key purposes of Lent, to look into our own hearts, for that is one of the best places we can find God. John the Baptist preached that men might see and enter the kingdom of God not now but when it arrived, which it would surely would, and speedily. Jesus proceeds further than John the Baptist, however, arguing that men and women must be prepared for a radical renewal of themselves. This is a new birth ‘effected by the Spirit who comes … as the advance guard of the new age’ (Barrett, The Gospel according to St John, 209), a new age not in the sense of a phoney new age movement but of the true kingdom of God. Or as Henri Nouwen remarks, ‘Jesus showed us all that the very things we often flee – our vulnerability and mortality – can, at any moment, become the place of holy transfiguration, for us and for our world.’

Towards the end of his speech on 3 April 1968, Martin Luther King Jnr said these words: ‘it really doesn’t matter what happens now… I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t really matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind… I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain…’