Arts Festival at Harvest Time. John 15:1-11

When I think of an artist, my grandfather always comes to mind. Les Swann had always enjoyed drawing – I still have a pen and ink sketch that he drew of Hyderabad Cathedral during his wartime service. He used his demob grant to train as an art teacher. Being head of art in all-boys secondary school meant that he was both competent in all sorts of media, and a lethal shot whether with a cricket ball or board rubber.

He seemed to be able to turn his hand to anything, from oil paintings of abandoned tin mines, to orders of service for funerals. These leaflets, in the days before photocopying would be pressed out individually in the garden shed using an ancient raised type printer. It took me some time to realise that the pictures and floral patterns round the edge were not mere embellishment to the words within – they were just as much part of the message, the medium conveying an overall impression.

The Christian doctrine of Creation is similar. It appears at first sight to be focussed on words. ‘Let there be light and there was light.’ ‘In the beginning was the Word and the word was God and the word was with God’. The beginning of John’s gospel gives us the belief that God the Father creates the world through God the Son. Not yet incarnate as Jesus, God the Son in creation is called, in the original Greek, the logos which is often translated Word. It would misleading though to think that Word exhausts the meaning of what God is doing in creation. As if God speaks the universe into being and that is it. Logos means so much more.

For the creative work continues, God is intimately involved in his creation. The glories of the world that we see around us: its beauty, diversity, exuberance, are all part of the gift of God and bear witness to his creativity. So art is not just a useful way of making a point which could be more concisely put in words – rather art is part of God’s self-revelation to us. Art is not mere illustration – it can reveal part of God. Christianity without art would be deeply impoverished. As we are creative, as we allow our artistic gifts to develop, we can draw close to God.

When I remember my grandparents’ house, for some reason I always picture the stairs. They had one of those carpets that you never see nowadays, you know the ones that don’t quite cover the tread of each stair. Half-way up was a large window, which flooded the hallway with light, and on the window sill were several pots. One in particular deeply impressed me: large secretary birds stomped round it in an eternal quest for prey. I wonder how many tries it took my grandfather to get that pot right?

Watching a potter work is an engrossing experience. I find it fascinating how a pot emerges like a living organism from a featureless lump of clay. Yet forming a pot is much more than an idea in the potter’s mind becoming embodied. As if he thinks and does. Instead there’s almost a conversation between the clay and the potter – the texture and density of the clay will affect the type of pot that can be made. Small imperfections will be smoothed out, variations in the spinning speed may alter the final design.

 

It is the same with our relationship to God in creation. As the prophet Jeremiah observed, if God is like the potter then we are like the clay. Trusting ourselves into his hands, we are moulded into the image he wants us to be, fully expressing the potential that lies within. God’s work in us does not involve extinguishing our personality – quite the opposite, as God works with the clay of which our character is formed. We can trust his perfect design.

In the act of Creation, God makes something that is not himself. The God who is everywhere, in a sense has to limit himself so that there is the space for other beings to exist. That self-restricting act gives us freedom. God makes the space which gives us the ability to fulfil God’s destiny for us, or to turn away, as the case may be.

Sometimes the potter gives a little sigh, and before you realise what is happening, has collapsed the pot into a ball and started again. So it is with us: our mistakes may mar the design, but there is always the chance to turn back to God, repent and begin again.

Something similar is happening in our reading from John’s Gospel Chapter 10. The gardener goes along the vine, pruning, sometimes so alarmingly hard that we wonder: can the plant ever survive? He knows what he is doing, and the next year the harvest is abundant.

As Jesus says in verse 2: ‘He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch in me that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit.’ There is a cost in fulfilling our greatest potential: distractions must be pruned away, unworthy vices rubbed off, selfishness cut out. This is not done against our will, we must give our permission, desire to be what we cannot in our own strength.

For the ability to be transformed comes from the grace of God, and this power, this energy, arises from within the vine itself. From Christ who is our root and stem. As he says in verse 5: ‘I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.’ As the creative logos, he is the source of the life within us. His divine power gives us all we need.

So what does it mean to abide in him? How can that be a reality for us? Abiding in Christ means a conscious turning to him. Wishing to be what we can be through the gift of God, hoping to fulfil the destiny he has for us. As we do so, his spirit enters in and we become aware of the signs of his love within us.

Abiding in Christ involves an action. It will mean making the space through stillness, silence and prayer, in which we can respond to his Holy Spirit. Letting him prune away all that does not bring life, and allowing the fruit to grow as we look beyond ourselves to others. Abiding in Christ our creativity reaches its fullest expression. But above all, his creativity, his life, his wondrous power finds its expression within us. Amen.

 

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Two sons

Learning to help is part of growing up. It teaches children responsibility and new skills. I was thinking this the other day when I was holding a step ladder against the shed while 8 year old hands manipulated a hammer alarming close to my head. It may have taken longer than if I did it, but I’m proud she can now knock in roofing tacks.

 

And as they get older, the help that’s offered becomes really useful. Picking, gathering, tidying takes less time than it once did. Garden jobs particularly are good for children. In Biblical times the whole family was involved in farming, there was always something to do and everyone had to lend a hand particularly during the Harvest.

 

Nowadays farm machinery can do the job of many people – a couple of weeks ago we were spreading gravel over a church car park and it was set to take all day until the farmer turned up. Many hands make light work – especially if one of them is driving a big green bulldozer. Nowadays the village where I live has a population of 850, with maybe a dozen working on the land. In the year 1386 the population was 1500 – almost all of whom would have been peasant farmers.

 

It was like that in Biblical times, which is why so many of Jesus parables are about farming. When we think of vineyards, like the one that’s mentioned in our gospel reading, I guess we think of wine? But they were important for raisins too – vitamins through the winter months and a food that could be carried around. Any surplus above the family’s needs would be a useful source of income. So the father needs his sons to do their bit.

 

What follows is a familiar scenario: the workman who turn up keen to get the job, quotes a sensible price in good time, yet when it comes to it just cannot be found. And then on the other hand there’s the child who sulks when asked to help with the washing up, buries his head in the ipad, only to appear suddenly at your side with tea towel in hand.

 

The moral in the Gospel reading from Matthew 21:23-32 is clear: Actions speak louder than words. We can huff and puff all we like, but we’ll be judged on the basis of what we do.

 

 

That’s why Amazon and eBay are so big on. Those little gold stars allow us to cut through the advertisers’ waffle and see if they really deliver. Jesus said ‘By their fruits ye shall know them’ – not by their disclaimers! We confess what we believe with our mouths, but you can tell it’s real by how we live our lives.

 

It’s easy to say that ‘Actions speak louder than Words.’ Hard to put into practice. We have to make choices, be consistent. Recently I’ve been looking at getting a new car. I want to minimise my carbon emissions, I talk about the environment quite a bit. So I have I gone for the smallest car with the least polluting engine? Well not quite. There’s more va va voom then there would be if all I was looking at was green credentials. I can at least take comfort in the fact that newer technology means it’s less damaging than my old Skoda.

 

With that kind of example, legislation helps. Recycling is a faff if you’re the only one doing it, but if there are good facilities and provision for everyone it becomes second nature. You may have noticed that Wiltshire council have a recycling questionnaire online – do fill it in! Virtue is much easier if everyone’s doing it, if there are incentives to do the right thing.

 

Or is that just an excuse? The human heart is devious – we can fail to notice our own hypocrisy – when we say one thing but do another. We can become hypocritical when we justify ourselves, or when we give reasons why in our particular case there’s a good exemption. Or sometimes it’s just a lack of self-awareness. I knew someone who was always offering to host a church social, or do some paperwork. But it never happened. I don’t think she did it on purpose, she wasn’t deceiving or trying to look good. I just think she didn’t recognise the gap between what she wanted to do and was actually able to undertake.

 

Strangely though, the people Jesus takes aim at are the religious leaders. Some of them were Pharisees, who made it their life’s work to create a society where doing the right thing was easier. They laid down clear boundaries between right and wrong, they looked at the grey areas and decided what you could and couldn’t do. The Pharisees really tried to support one another in living out their approach to Jewish faith.

 

But in the first part of our reading, verses 23-27 they are challenging Jesus. ‘Who gave you authority to do this?’ they ask about his teaching in the temple. Not a bad question, although one might ask them the same thing –who gave you authority to judge? Instead Jesus asks them ‘What about John the Baptist? Where did his authority come from?’

 

Instantly, their hypocrisy is revealed. For, as they say in v.25, ‘if we say from heaven, he will ask ‘Why didn’t you believe him then?’ But if we say ‘From Earth’, then all the crowd will stone us, because they believe that John was a prophet’

 

You see what has happened? Nobody thought to answer with their actual opinion. Maybe they think John the Baptist was a prophet – but if so why didn’t they listen to him? More likely they think John was a liar. If so, say so. But they can’t, because they fear the consequences. Either they will look foolish and concede a debating point to Jesus, or they will lose the support of the crowd. So, lamely, they respond ‘We don’t know’.

 

How did the chief priests and elders end up like that? What went wrong? The great flaw in their approach is that if you lay down clear boundaries between right and wrong, it’s easy to think that you’ve done your duty. Anyone can legislate for ritual but it’s much harder to legislate for kindness. The Pharisees even gave a tenth of your herbs. That’s an easily measurable outcome – but forgiving someone who sins against you is fuzzier. Compassion isn’t a legal thing.

 

So outward observance became the principle. Rather like the cornerstone issues in American politics today: many conservative Christians voted for Donald Trump because he held a traditional position on abortion – regardless of anything else he said or did.

 

Hypocrisy can easily happen when we focus on easily measured outcomes. Or when believing the right thing is more important than living with love and kindness. That is a particular challenge for the church today: our society is extremely sensitive to anything which is perceived as judgemental. No amount of right belief will count for anything in the eyes of the world if the church is experienced as unloving. We have to work very hard to demonstrate the love of God.

 

But let’s also be clear what hypocrisy is and what it isn’t. Hypocrisy is not falling short, making mistakes. It is not hypocrisy when we say: ‘This is what I believe I am meant to do. I try to do it. I don’t always get it right. But I repent, God forgives me and I try again.’ That’s not hypocrisy. That’s admitting that we fail to live up to our standards. If we recognise our imperfection, if we are open about how we struggle to get it right in a broken world, if we show that we depend on God’s grace then that gets over a truly Christian message about forgiveness.

 

That’s why Jesus praises the tax collectors and the prostitutes in verse 31. They know their need of God and are returning to him. They are aware of their sin, they’re not trying to cover it up, but they repent and God forgives them. Jesus isn’t saying that God is comfortable with sin, he’s not arguing that these people don’t need to change. After all in the parable of the two sons Jesus did say that the second son had disobeyed his father at first. What Jesus is doing is praising the humility of the tax collector who prayed ‘Lord have mercy on me a sinner’. God can work with their self-knowledge, their obedience in the end – ultimately that they turn to God because they know their need.

 

Nonetheless it seems to me that there is a still better way. How often have you had to cancel an event because not enough people have signed up – only to get a flurry of enquiries about tickets? Or have you ever decided that you can’t go out after all, cancelled your table – and the very next minute the babysitter finally sends the text you’d been waiting for? Surely it is best of all to say ‘Yes’ to God – and obey.

 

Ideally, let’s aim for the outward ‘yes’ and the following action. The willingness to serve God and the ability to do it. Jesus is realistic, he knows that much of the time we can’t manage that, but he tells this parable as an invitation: to repentance, to come back to God and to start again. Amen.

 

Complaining

I wonder if anyone has ever complained to you? If you work in a service industry, or in education you probably get it all the time. Some people’s jobs are all about dealing with complaints – it’s euphemistically called the Customer Service Department.

 

You may be surprised to hear it happens in church too. I found an interesting bit of informal research on Twitter. Someone had asked church leaders to send in the strangest complaints they’d ever received – here is a selection:

          Our expensive coffee is attracting too many trendy people

          You need to change your voice

          We need to start attracting more normal people at church

          Your wife never compliments me about my hair or dress

 

Fortunately I’ve never had any of those comments made to me. But I’m sure that you can think of things that have been said to you that are equally ridiculous. Dealing with complaining is a part of life, and often it seems to go in phases.

 

You’d imagine that there’s more moaning in a community when life is hard. Oddly though the Exodus reading we’ve just heard happened very soon after the highest point, the pivotal event in the Old Testament – the Exodus itself. God rescued his people from slavery, he judged the Egyptians, he brought the Israelites through the Red Sea. All these incredible things had happened – but then people started to complain.

 

Maybe it’s the feeling of let down after the most amazing events. Whenever there’s a high, you have to come back down to earth, and sometimes that can be with a jolt. You get a new car, and it’s wonderful at first, and then you start finding little flaws. I find with medical crises that Adrenaline can sustain you through difficult times, but oddly it’s when the crisis has passed and life is slowly returning to normal that it can be most difficult. One of our churches is enjoying a wonderfully reordered new building right now – you just have to go and see it, it’s a glorious space, there’s so much to be thankful for. 

 

There will be a point though where that church has to get to grips with the routines and costs of a new building, there will be a realisation that the church’s mission and outreach must carry on – we can’t just rely on a new-build to do the work for us.

 

That jolt of reality is natural, and I think that we also have to remember that as human beings we can be quite extreme in our views and reactions. I suspect that from God’s perspective it’s never as bad as we sometimes think it is, and this side of heaven it’s never as triumphant either! Do you know Kipling’s poem If? I find it rather too Stoic in its emotional detachment, but on this particular point he hits the nail on the head: ‘If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two imposters just the same’ – with a healthy scepticism.

 

Moses and Aaron certainly keep their head when all around them are losing theirs. Their response is a model of how we should act when faced with complaint and criticism, in whatever situation:

 

Firstly, they entrust it to God. They don’t try and solve it in their own strength. When we’re criticised we can give as good as we get or bark back with self-justification – and only once the situation has deteriorated turn to God in prayer. But here God tells Moses and Aaron what to do, they do it, and they give him the glory in front of the people.

 

Secondly they pay attention to God, and then if it’s right to do they address the complaint – how easy it is to modify what we do! We need to listen to what’s being said, if someone makes the effort to give feedback they need to know they’ve been heard, but we also need to have courage to stick to our course if it is undoubtedly the right thing to do.

 

Thirdly, Moses and Aaron find their identity in God in verse 7: ‘who are we that you complain against us?’ Moses had learnt the hard way that he alone could not save the Israelites. He had killed an Egyptian slave-master – and spent 40 years in the wilderness. Now he has learnt: his identity is not rooted in being a saviour, in solving all their problems. He does not depend on others for his self-worth. 

Whatever our role, whatever kind of authority we exercise, we need to know who we are in the eyes of God – accepted, loved, forgiven by him. His child first and foremost. When grounded in that identity as a child of God then we won’t be tempted to create our own identity or seek refuge in one made for us by others.

 

So far I’ve been speaking as if you and I identify with Moses and Aaron. But what if we’re the crowd? What if we’re the grumblers? Do we ever make life difficult for those in authority over us? I find it so easy to complain about such and such that ‘the diocese’ has done – but ‘the Diocese’ is always people. Do we complain to God about the task, or the people he has entrusted to our care? Do we need to repent and change? I guess that at various times in our lives each one of us can be Moses. And each one of us can be in the crowd.

 

God is incredibly gracious. Remarkably often he responds to complaint in a loving way. Think of the book of Job: Job has lost his flocks, his wealth, his family and his health. He complains bitterly to God – but God answers. Indeed God even affirms that ‘Job has spoken rightly of me!’ Job’s complaint was born out of faith. He believed God was good, and held on in prayer. There is a long history of Biblical, faithful complaint to God.

 

So when is complaining not faithful but just whinging? An unhelpful grumble. Perhaps it’s when it’s trivial. Like the person who really did say to a minister: ‘The loo roll in the ladies is the wrong way round. It’s rolled under.’ More significantly, it’s the tone that makes it a whinge or a workaround.

 

There’s a world of difference between ‘Why do we never have hymns we know?’ and ‘For Pentecost, could we have such and such?’ One just creates a problem and dumps it on someone else. The other owns the problem, shares concern and offers to work together in solving it.

 

I suppose the Israelites could have prayed to God rather than complain to Moses. If they weren’t sufficiently familiar with this God to pray, perhaps they could have said to Moses: ‘This God who can bring locusts and part the Sea, do you think he could give us some food?’

 

Firstly God answers in a natural way – the swarm of quails is a recognised desert phenomenon. And for me that’s a source of hope. God is gracious.

He responds to our needs. Indeed, the complaining leads to action. God in his love responds to their needs. Secondly, he answers in a miraculous way, through the manna.

 

But the manna will be a training experience for Israel. There are hints in this chapter of what will come later – elaborate instructions for when the Israelites can gather manna and when not. Why not give them enough for a week? Why have to go out gather each day? To learn that we must do our bit in order to work with God. So pray for healing, and keep taking the tablets. Pray for revival, and spread the word. Why gather twice as much for the day before the Sabbath? To learn obedience and trust in God. To learn that God will provide throughout the day of rest.

 

I wonder if you know anyone who has a tiny baby? Just a few weeks old? Watch that baby next time you meet them. Look at how the baby gazes at its mother, clearly believing that Mummy is all capable, all knowing. But listen to what happens when baby is hungry – the yelling and sobbing, the desperation, the urgency. And that’s just the parents!

 

A very little baby has to learn that its needs will be provided for. When it is really tiny it doesn’t understand that – so when baby feels hungry it is the end of the world. As the baby grows he learns to trust his parents, he realises that food will come, nappy will be changed. He discovers that Mummy and Daddy are reliable and that where they have been faithful in the past, they will be faithful again.

 

The Israelites had to learn that about this God who had rescued them. Maybe we too need to learn what it means to trust God. If he has been faithful to us in the past, we can trust him for the future. If the way has seemed dark but God knew what he was doing, surely the same is true today. If we seek guidance, if we need resources, if we want resilience, turn to God. For he is faithful.

 

 

Debts – Matthew 18:21-35

This man owes a king’s ransom, and yet his debt has been cancelled. Incredible! What tremendous mercy his master showed! And what awful hypocrisy, what terrible anger the servant then displayed to his fellow, a man who owed him a mere hundred pounds.

 

Almost a decade ago the world economy went through a very difficult time. Banks failed, stock markets collapsed, growth went into reverse. All because huge amounts had been foolishly lent, and suddenly investors realised the money would never be repaid. Nine years on, we still deal with the consequences and there are fears it may happen again.

 

Jesus reminds us that people throughout the ages have faced similar hazards. Both borrowers and investors are at risk of losing out, and the potential human suffering is immense.

 

For many years the church had a prohibition against usury – or lending money at interest. When the doctrine changed, and the church decided that interest rates were not in themselves sinful, it laid the foundations of modern capitalism. That adaptation enabled society as we currently know it to develop. Perhaps though now we can see the wisdom that there was in the past. We might well feel that society has gone too far in the other direction, that an economy built on debt is a bubble. Would we go back to society without interest? Is that even possible? Or is it wiser to follow Justin Welby and call not for revolution but reform?

 

Either way, the parable Jesus tells involves men who have borrowed and lent. Despite the Biblical prohibitions it went on even then. Which suggests to me that a realistic ethic has to take account of it.

 

Imagine a bank which was bailed out by the government. Lucky them. But what if that bank uses its new found freedom to send out repossession notices to householders who’ve fallen behind on the mortgage. What an outcry there would be!

 

So what does this parable teach us today about money, debt and remission?

If any of us have benefitted from debt relief – if our bank was bailed out all those years ago, then what are we doing about anyone who owes us money? How do we drive our bargains and negotiate deals? Do we understand the concept of a living wage?

 

The gospel also invites us to reflect on the cost of forgiveness. In bailing out banks and savers, the government, and hence the tax payer took on risk and potential losses. It did so at a cost – depending on who you listen to, the government might never break even. In the parable the king cancels the man’s debt – at great cost to himself, for it represents a massive financial loss.

 

When we forgive, it is a cost to us. In effect we’re saying that what someone did to us hurt us, but we will not hold it against them. We will seek reconciliation, not revenge. It costs to do that, and in some way when you forgive you bear the pain of whatever that person has done to you. Forgiveness has a cost.

 

God knows that. When he asks us to forgive, he does so in full knowledge of what is involved. For he too has borne the pain of forgiving. God did so in the cross. When we look at the death of Jesus, we see what it cost God to forgive. We see the price he paid for coming to save us. We too should forgive.

 

But there are also some questions. When Peter says: ‘Lord how many times should I forgive? Up to seven times?’, he thinks he’s being incredibly generous. Three would have been the custom, so Peter doubles it and adds one. Jesus has a surprise: ‘Seventy times seven’. So many times you can’t keep track.

 

Are there really no limits to forgiveness? What about those who were in concentration camps? What about people whose children have been murdered? How can Jesus expect them to forgive? Those are situations where forgiveness seems humanly impossible.

 

But unless we’re in that situation, it’s not our business to worry about that. If God wishes those who have been horribly offended against to forgive, then it is up to him to supply the grace, love and strength for them to do it.

 

Our challenge is to forgive those who have offended against us. We’re not called to worry about how other people might forgive, or imagine what it feels like for them – we’re called to forgive our own enemies.

 

What about repentance? Do people need to say sorry before they can be forgiven? Jesus tells the parable because Peter wants to know if there is a limit on the number of times he can forgive a penitent brother. Repentance is there. On the other hand, though, Jesus forgives his enemies from the cross while they are still crucifying him. No sense of repentance there.

 

I think it’s helpful here to think of sin building walls around us. When someone sins against me, it builds up a wall of resentment and anger, hostility and hurt. That’s natural. But left alone, that wall cuts me off from the other person. And, because it’s a wall that surrounds me, it cuts me off from God too. If we’re not forgiving, if we nurse a grudge, we become isolated, turned in our ourselves, bitter and hurting, longing to break out but not wanting to demolish those high walls, because they have become part of who we are.

 

Forgiveness breaks down the wall, and restores fellowship with the one who has offended, and also with God. That’s why forgiveness is so essential in family relationships and in friendships, it breaks down those walls before they become a problem.

 

If someone doesn’t apologise to us then we cannot restore fellowship with them in the same way. They are surrounded by their own wall, their own inability to repent. But Jesus teaches that we should still forgive – turn the other cheek – because it will break down the walls that threaten to enclose us. In short, forgiveness is good for us.

 

That doesn’t make it easy. It is tremendously difficult. We have to let go of what was done to us, we have to let go of our feelings of anger and our longing for revenge. We do not have to pretend that nothing happened. We do not have to deny that wrong was done, or that we would rather it never had occurred. We do not have to abandon the wish for justice and reform for the other person. We should not be naïve in thinking the same can’t happen again.

 

But we do have to forgive. We do have to stop nursing a grudge. We do have to give up on revenge and hatred. We do have to let go and try to move on, living in peace as far as it depends on us.

 

And that’s so difficult. I find it helpful to pray that God will give me the strength to forgive and understand what that means. And then I have to take a cold blooded decision ‘I forgive’. Not I will forgive, or I want to forgive, but ‘I forgive’. I may not feel particularly forgiving, but still that decision has to be made. And then, God’s Spirit gets to work. I begin to forgive in practice. He helps me let go, to forget, to meet that person again.

 

Of course, that’s not the end of it. As time goes on we uncover deeper levels of hurt, a chance remark betrays continues resentment, a repeat offence brings the whole business flaring up again. And so we must keep on forgiving, every time the monster rears its ugly head we bash it down again. It is not easy, but Jesus commanded it, and he never commanded something that he himself would not do.

 

So as we come to communion, let us reflect on the price of forgiveness. Let us receive the pledge of God’s goodness, and let us commit ourselves to forgive. Amen.

Don’t email. Talk.

A handy piece of advice: Three out of four murders are committed by someone who knew the victim. That’s one good reason to maintain a small circle of friends. As we think about conflict in our gospel reading from Matthew 18v15-20, it reminds me of the saying by W C Fields: ‘The world is getting to be such a dangerous place that you’re lucky to get out of it alive.

Whether it’s the nuclear stand-off with North Korea, the turbulent Brexit talks, or the tragic situation in Burma, conflict is everywhere. We can experience it at all sorts of level – work politics, neighbourly disputes, marital disagreements, trolling on social media. It’s a part of human nature – and so we shouldn’t be surprised when we also find conflict in the church.

 

The church is made up of fallible human beings, on a journey of redemption. So it doesn’t make sense if people say ‘It’s the church, we can’t have any conflict’, or even, ‘I used to go to church but there was a disagreement and it put me off.’ I’m afraid it happens, we’re human. And conflict itself isn’t sinful – it’s not wrong to disagree – it’s the way you handle it that matters. You may have heard the joke: In 45 years of marriage my parents only had one argument. It lasted 43 years.

 

When Jesus speaks in this reading from Matthew 18:15-20, he knows that his disciples will fall out, which may lead to sin against each other. He’s assuming it will happen and giving guidance for what to do when it does. Do remember that in v.15 Jesus is talking about another member of the church doing wrong– a lot of the guidance he gives here would apply in any situation – but some of it is specific to the church

And it’s worth noting: not only does Jesus assume there will be times we get it wrong. He also assumes it’s worth sorting it out. When people fall out with one another, it’s good to do something about it. It’s good to lean in, to move towards conflict, to heal and reconcile. Why? Because when we do so, we follow the example of God who reconciles us with himself through Christ’s death on the cross. Jesus forgave those who killed him, he taught us to love our enemies, because we are all God’s children. Reconciliation therefore is at the heart of the gospel.

I wonder if you find that difficult? I do. It’s hard to go and speak to someone. It’s much easier to be right. Happier being annoyed. More comforting to close ranks with your friends and block out the offender. If you unfriend someone maybe you don’t have to worry about them again. But if we do that, we ultimately end in C S Lewis’s vision of hell: a grey barren plain with dimly lit houses spaced far apart – and the longer people spend there the more they fall out with their neighbours and the further apart they move from one another. Not addressing conflict makes people drift apart.

 

A loving parent cannot ignore it when one child pulls another’s hair. The Kingdom of God is built as we reconcile differences, make peace, and learn to live with one another. We need to make the effort.

 

So in verse 15 Jesus encourages you to make the first move. I saw a cartoon once: a couple sat glumly on a sofa. He’s thinking: ‘Why isn’t she talking to me?’ Do you know what she’s thinking: ‘Why isn’t he talking to me?’ Don’t wait for the other person. Maybe they don’t know they’ve upset you. Maybe the sin that’s obvious to you isn’t so clear cut to them – as someone once said ‘There are two sides to every argument –and they’re usually married to each other’

 

If it’s safe to do so – and do be aware, go and point out the fact when the two of you are alone. Not through others, not gossiping to the world, not pasting it all over Facebook. Preferably not by email or letter – so easily misunderstood, but face to face, one to one. Not in a kind of passive aggressive sort of way ‘I suppose I’ll be doing the washing up again then’. But clearly, directly, with humility and openness.

 

Confronting someone and owning how we feel is hard. Particularly if we have to say how we’ve been hurt. It takes real courage and prayer. But if we do so, it’s surprising how people can respond. I once had someone who sent the most horrendous emails. They were real scorchers and upset everyone. I had to gather courage to go and tell him how hurtful they were. He was genuinely surprised, and although I won’t say he was totally cured, the situation did improve.

A small caveat though – if you’re sitting here thinking ‘Well I don’t find that difficult. What’s the problem? It’s easy telling people when they’ve got it wrong. I do it all the time!’, then do please pause and think about how others might experience it. Many of us are nervous about conflict, a few people find it a bit too easy.

 

If going to see someone face to face doesn’t work, then Jesus escalates it to involving some more people. Not in the sense of ganging up on someone, but it can be useful in a difficult situation to bring in a mediator. Someone’s who’s not so intimately involved, who can try and be fair to both sides, who can create a calm atmosphere in which each person can say what they need to and be heard.

 

That sounds heavy. But it needn’t be. I’ve done a bit of work as a mediator, and the biggest problem is that you always get called in too late. It’s only once the relationships have broken down and people are thinking about resorting to legal avenues that someone says: ‘I know, let’s go for mediation.’ ‘Divorce is on the cards, let go to counselling’ It’s like a chaplain being called to a hospice as the patient takes their last breath – really to do any good you need to be there much earlier. So don’t be afraid to say early: ‘this is getting tricky, let’s get some help.’

 

If that doesn’t work, v.17 says ‘if the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church.’ Formal procedures have their place. Then, ‘if the offender refuses to listen to the church let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector’. So exclude them? Ostracise them like the Pharisees did? Or be like Jesus, who welcomed the tax collector and the Gentile, encouraged them to repent and find God? So if there is exclusion here, it is provisional. It is until such a time as the person who has done wrong admits to it, apologies and is ready to change.

 

In New Testament times, Christians were keen to keep disputes in house rather than go before corrupt secular judges. Besides, it did not look good if Christian fell out with one other in public. Nowadays though, for serious matters we cannot just keep things in house.

 

This year Dame Moira Gibbs reviewed historic child protection failures in the Church of England. Her report made it clear that resolving problems internally can all too easily be corrupted in a culture of cover up. Where crime has been committed we all have a duty to protect the vulnerable and involve the law.

 

But going back to the everyday problems, the kind of disputes which affect congregational life, just imagine what it would be like if all the church took this teaching seriously. Conflict would not simmer unaddressed but would be dealt with and healed. There would be fairness, respect, responsibility to one another. It’s a wonderful vision.

 

We would know the presence of God. In forgiving one another, learning to respect differences, we’d follow the example of Jesus. So as it says in v.20, where just two or three people living like this are gathered together, Jesus is there with them.

 

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this famous verse ends the passage on conflict. So often we take ‘when two or three’ out of context. We use it as a promise at the beginning of a prayer meeting – Lord we are gathered, we know you are here. Sometimes I have to remind myself of it when I leave the vestry of a country church and find a congregation which comprises the churchwarden, the organist and a sleeping dog. Ah well, when two or three are gathered together, Jesus is there with them.

 

But that’s not what it’s about. Jesus says that when two or three don’t avoid their arguments but heal them, he is there. When two who have fallen out are helped by the church to be reconciled, he is in that process. When I admit I have done wrong and you forgive me, we follow the example of Jesus. When I apologise for over-reacting I reach out to you and you respond in grace. When division is worked through, evil is overcome. When difference is integrated the Kingdom of God is built. God’s blessing comes in reconciliation; let us follow Christ’s way in our shared life together.

Burning Bush

Barely two months ago I was sat in Bristol Cathedral ready for Elveen’s ordination. The cathedral authorities have obviously realised that people are a captive audience while they’re waiting, so on the first few pages of the order of service are potted biographies of those about to be made deacon

One in particular caught my eye. He wrote‘God is never in a hurry! Forty-five years ago, when I was lodging in a Leicestershire farmhouse, the farmer’s wife said to me: ‘You’ll be ordained one day.’ Her vision was greater than mine, but I prayed about it and saw myself as an old man wearing a dog collar. Spurred on by that I’ve tried the ordination door more than once over the years but it was always closed. God had more shaping to do on me…but he gave me a promise to hang on to: ‘My word will accomplish what I desire’. So in God’s timing the old man with the dog collar is here at last. Thank you Lord. He is the God who fulfils his purposes for us all.

Moses’ experience was like that, waiting a long time, being shaped by God before he was finally ready to fulfil his call. Forty long years ago, the young man Moses had left the palace of the Egyptian princess who had adopted him, and gone to discover his roots. Finding his own people, the Israelites, enslaved by the Egyptians, Moses was furious. He attacked and killed a slave driver. But Pharaoh heard about it and Moses fled into the wilderness

He survived by working as a shepherd. Humbled, and probably believing this was now his life, he married the daughter of a local priest. We can only imagine what the journey he travelled: of frustration, wasted talent, regret, humility and finally acceptance. Only then, forty years later, was God able to use him

It was only once he’d learnt to listen, to trust, once he’d learnt to do things God’s way, that God could use him. The Israelites would never listen to a spoilt Egyptian princeling. But a man who had suffered, who like them had endured hardship – they could respect him. Sometimes we too need work done on us, character honed, before we can fulfil the call God has given us. Sometimes, like Moses, we have to be set aside for a while, become insignificant, in order to be used

If so, God may need to reassure us that his plans for us are faithful. As he guides us, we learn more about him. In this passage about the burning bush from Exodus chapter 3v1-15, the story of Moses call is interwoven with the revelation of God

Why did God appear in a burning bush? It’s really odd. To Abraham and Jacob, God appeared as a person, or they heard his voice. To Samson’s mother and to David, God came as the Angel of the Lord, a heavenly messenger. The only other time I can think of that God appears not as a personal form but through an object is when Abraham sees a burning brazier making a covenant. There again fire speaks of the presence of God.

 

The thorn bush, most useless and lowliest of plants may encourage Moses. There is nowhere God is absent, nothing God cannot use. Moses feels his life has been wasted, he has lost all confidence. He is like the thornbush – but the fire of God can blaze in him. Thorns also may speak of suffering, the slavery of the Israelites and the hard road Moses must travel. God is not absent when we suffer – we may even feel his presence most strongly. After all, it is on the cross when Jesus wears the crown of thorns, that we see the love of God revealed most clearly. Perhaps the burning bush even anticipates the incarnation: God’s presence united with frail human flesh yet not consuming it.

There is a mystery here, and I think that’s deliberate. The burning bush speaks to us of a God who is both with us, and yet greater than we can imagine. Who appears in a blaze of fire, but we cannot get too close. Who speaks rational words so that he can be heard, yet you must take off your shoes because you stand on holy ground. Who is the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob – they are alive with him and in heaven behold his face – yet sinful man covers his face because he is afraid to look on God

This is the God we worship, who makes himself known but cannot be fully comprehended. Who reveals himself as a mystery, and calls us on, deeper and deeper into that mystery. A God who when he is asked says name says ‘I will be what I will be’ – in other words he has the complete freedom to be himself, not to be tied down by our classifications., no-one can have power over him by knowing his name

In our prayers and worship we must hold both of these insights together: that God reveals himself to us and makes himself known, but that he is always greater than we can imagine. In our prayers we might imagine pictures of God, but be ready to lay them aside as inadequate. In our hymns and preaching we use words to describe Him, but we must always remember that words cannot encompass his majesty. Our creeds speak of how God has made himself known, but they cannot exhaust the mystery. When we come to worship, let’s not expect it to be as it always is, but be ready to let God be God

In speaking of a God who is transcendent, we should not imagine that he is distant or uncaring. The God who spoke to Moses did so because he had a task for Moses to do: to set God’s people free.  Just look at the verbs in v.7: ‘I have observed the misery, I have heard their cry, I know their sufferings and I have come down to deliver them.’ God has heard the cry of the Israelites, he has seen how the Egyptians are oppressing them, and he has come to rescue them.

God does see. He observes the misery of human trafficking, he hears the cry of the bonded labourer, he knows the suffering of the refugee, he sees the racial divisions – and he still sends his people to rescue and heal. This is part of our vocation as followers of Christ

Of course, there are people who say that the gospel message must come first, and that therefore the church ought to leave social action to the state or to non-Christians. To say that is to ignore the nature of God. It forgets that wherever Christ went he both preached the message and healed the sick. The proclamation of the Kingdom cannot be separated out from the acts of the Kingdom, for it is about life in all its fullness.

People know this – a church which preaches without acting will be accused of hypocrisy, but those like HtB which have a prison and homeless ministry gain the right to be heard. The mission of the Bible Society is to give people Scriptures in their own language, but they also give tents and food to Syrian refugees – you can’t read the Good News if you’ve got nowhere to sit and a hungry stomach. Christians must follow the heart of God and act in love, as well as explaining what we believe. Neither is complete without the other

Making a difference in the world is a long journey. It’s over a year since Jonathan’s campaign began – to give children with special educational needs a genuine opportunity to be taught to read and write. It’s been a long haul. The Government has been enthusiastic, there have been great photo opportunities, videos blogs and articles which have impacted thousands, but no policy has yet changed. Whenever there is the prospect of change, vested interests oppose you. Some you hoped would be allies just don’t get it, or disagree on the right approach. As Moses found, even the ones you hoped to help turn out to be discouraged, tired, too busy just coping, maybe even unable to dream that things could be different.

Perhaps sensing this, Moses objects in v.11: ‘Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?’ Who indeed is up to this task

But the point is not who Moses is, but the key thing is who is with Moses. ‘I will be with you’ says God. We may say ‘Who am I? The task is too great. I have no experience, ability.’ But God says ‘I will be with you’. With God all things are possible. When his Holy Spirit moves we just need to get on board

He longs to bless his people. He promises Moses that he will set them free, he will bring them up to a land flowing with milk and honey. One day soon they will worship God on that very mountain, and receive the law which outlines their relationship with God. God wishes to bless his people, to set them free from captivity and bring them into a right relationship with him. This is about the message of the gospel, and the liberation the gospel brings. He calls us all to work and pray in that great task. Amen.

 

 

 

 

Walking on water

Everything seems peaceful as the gospel story begins. It’s been an amazing day – Jesus has fed the 5000. But now everything is calming down. It’s a lovely evening on the Sea of Galilee. After the excitement, Jesus goes off to pray and the disciples get into their boats. But Galilee is infamously treacherous. Desert air rises, storms sweep in from the surrounding hills. Wind and waves batter the boat far from land. Jesus walks out to them. Now the disciples panic – is it a ghost? Jesus reassures. Peter goes out to meet him. He doubts. It all goes horribly wrong. Jesus reaches out his hand and catches him

It seems to be calling us to faith – to be like Peter, to step out in faith – to keep our eyes on Jesus and not to be distracted by the storms that come our way. Yet if the tempests of life should overwhelm, Christ is alongside, able to rescue us when we call out to him

I remember seeing this story in a French seaside church on the Ile de Re. The painting covered an entire wall, with life sized figures. The theme’s been done a thousand times. But this one was different. I was deeply moved by it. For the disciples were real people

You know the kind of art you get in churches, where Jesus’ followers are identikit middle aged men with plain but well balanced features, and costume out of Victorian central casting. Instantly forgettable. These guys were real, they had lined weather beaten faces, individual hair, craggy features, warts and all. St. Peter particularly could only have been a portrait. I’m prepared to bet that someone in that village had paid for the painting. Perhaps it was a fisherman giving thanks for salvation after a storm. Perhaps we might see him walking down the street. Someone there was saying ‘I was Peter’.

 

I wonder. Have you been Peter? Have you have felt solidity vanishing under your feet? Have you seen everything you trusted in giving way? Have you felt yourself slipping beneath the surface, when the pressures of life overwhelm? Have you reached rock bottom, where all you can do is cry out ’Lord, save me’?

If so, then maybe you will have known also the hand of Christ. Sometimes we only find him when we have nothing left to cling to and there’s no alternative. But when you turn to him, he holds on to you. You may feel his strength keeping you up. You may not feel anything – but he is there. He will not let go of you

I’ve certainly felt like that at times this past year. With so much going on: the media campaign, being Area Dean, it can at times feel overwhelming. I cannot do it in my own strength. But God’s strength supplies all that I need. I just have to learn to be out there in the deep end, trusting in God.

Maybe you’ve known that love of God. That sustaining power. Or maybe you need it now. Don’t forget that Christ is there, that he loves you. Don’t be afraid to receive his help. Don’t leave it to the last minute to call out. Bring your needs to him in prayer

This has become a much loved miracle, speaking to many people.  What we can forget though is that this wasn’t some great misfortune which happened to Peter. He got himself into it. He was the bright spark who thought it might be a good idea to jump out of a wallowing rowing boat in the middle of a storm. He thought he might be able to walk over water. In verse 28 he said to Jesus: ‘Lord if it’s you, command me to come to you on the water

What amazing faith! Peter says ‘Lord, if you want me to do the impossible, I’ll do it. In fact, that’s the way I’ll know it’s you, because only you would ask me to

Do we see amazing things? Do we challenge God to call us further? One of the things I really like about our churches is that people do step out in faith. Someone said: Let’s reorder the North Aisle and start a new service.. Let’s hold a stewardship appeal as we’re coming out of the worst recession in decades

‘Let’s employ a children’s worker.’ It happened. The grants came in. Do you know that during the time the charity that has been supporting our children’s worker donated about £50,000 to the project but investment performance mean their reserves have only gone down by about £10,000. God is good

Bonkers? Or faith? All those things were thought about carefully. All of them were prayed through. The difficulties may have seemed vast, but people stepped out in faith.

If you want to see great things happen, then be like Peter. Throw down the gauntlet to God. Here I am Lord, send me. Let me know what you want and I’ll do it. I believe Lord that when you call a man or woman you give them what they need

In verses 29-30: So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on water and came to Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind he became frightened, and beginning to sink he called out ‘Lord save me’.

Initial enthusiasm is great. Then you must keep going. Once he’s far enough from the boat to be alone, Peter begins to waver. He gets into trouble. It often happens when you set off in faith. I remember well when after five years planning the church reordering quotations came back. Even the lowest was twice what the PCC expected. Suddenly we were in trouble. We had to turn to God again

Living faith can be like that. We set off; full of enthusiasm, strong in the strength Christ gives. But once out of the safety zone, problems arise. There may be opposition, resolve falters. Then we need to turn to Christ anew. We need to learn through experience that he will provide. Perseverance despite opposition grows our faith.

When he saves Peter, in v.31, Jesus says ‘O you of little faith, why did you doubt?’ Why do we doubt? Because when the waves grow high, when the darkness clouds us in, Christ seems hid from view. Or is he?

Is it like Peter in v.30? Is it that we notice the strong wind, we focus on the problem, and we forget the Lord?

I’m not criticizing. I’ve been there. I remember when the time came for me to leave my curacy, you have a year to try and find a job. Sounds plenty! But I was young, inexperienced, in those days no-one wanted to take the risk. It was beginning to get really worrying and I started applying for ever more unsuitable posts. I’d forgotten that God was alongside me, that he had a plan. He often leaves it to the last minute. But when it came it was what he’d been planning all along.

The wind and the waves are so distracting. The problems can be like little goblins gibbering away in your face. You have to put them to one side. You have to make a conscious effort to focus on God. To look to him first, and then to lay down the problems at his feet

Now someone may be thinking: wouldn’t it be a lot easier to stay in the boat? Perhaps it would. But think what you’d be missing! What you wouldn’t achieve. How you wouldn’t grow. How much of knowing Jesus you’d miss out on. To be able to walk on water you have to step out of the boat

Christ calls us to follow him, wherever he goes. But we should be aware that getting out of the boat is only the beginning. We need persistence and the ability to keep fixed on Jesus. Even if we do get into difficulties – and if we try and do anything worthwhile, there will be problems – even if we do get into difficulties, Christ will save. 

He can do this because he is God. And I think that is the main point of the story. Although we tend to identify with Peter and the imaginative use of the story, nevertheless, Matthew’s emphasis is clear. Right at the end, the disciples are overwhelmed. They say: ‘Truly, you are the Son of God’. That’s what Matthew wants us to know. And it’s the same for the other Evangelists. Neither Mark nor John relate the incident with Peter – the main point for them is that Jesus walked on water. It is, pure and simple, a proof of divinity. The miracle was yet another piece of evidence that Jesus is divine

That, incidentally, is why you can’t explain away the miracle. Granted, it’s not an easy one to believe. And apologies if you’ve been sat here throughout the sermon thinking, ‘yes but did it really happen?

There have plenty of attempts to rationalize the miracle. For instance:  some say Jesus only appeared to be walking on water – he was actually walking by the lake! Going for an amble on solid ground. Or: Jesus wasn’t walking on the waves, there was a handily submerged mudflat, just so deep beneath the surface! As if it’s possible to walk securely on a submerged mudflat in the middle of a storm! Today, you too can walk on water. You can go to Lake Galilee, and for a few shekels you can wander about on a plastic sheet suspended in the lake. Hey presto, walking on water!

It’s bonkers! The gospel writers were not crazy. Those experienced fishermen would not have been fooled by Magic Circle tricks. When the gospel writers recorded this, they believed there were describing a miracle. They weren’t daft, they knew walking on water doesn’t happen unless it’s God. It’s evidence that Jesus is divine.

We can take it or leave it. We could believe it because if he were God then he could do that. Or some people disbelieve it and I suppose they have to say the evangelists made it up, created a myth with a spiritual meaning. The problem with believing it’s a just symbolic myth is that you end up with a spiritual meaning disconnected from physical fact.

But what you can’t do is water it down and take the meaning out of it. If you do, you end up with something that probably didn’t happen like that anyway, wasn’t what the Evangelists intended and is still pretty incredible.

The point of the miracle is that Jesus saved Peter. He saved Peter and was able to do so because he is the divine Son of God. He can intervene in our lives because he is the Son of God. And so we do all become Peter. Our own lives, our trials and tribulations are reflected in that dark and stormy night. Each one of us is the willing but fallible disciple. We too are full of enthusiasm one moment and doubting and fear stricken the next. And each one of us is also the disciple saved by Christ – the hands of Jesus reaching out and taking hold of us. So we too can know the wonder and love of the disciples. We too can exclaim with renewed faith: ‘Truly you are the Son of God’.