Still Quarrying: Divided Heart.

 To the movies on Saturday to see ‘Back to Black’, the Amy Winehouse biopic. I didn’t go with any great knowledge of her life or music but was drawn to the story, albeit one that is all too familiar of a life ruined, and talent wasted.  She was only 27 when she died of alcohol poisoning after a significant period of sobriety.  

One of the most poignant aspects of the movie is Amy’s relationship with her grandmother who Amy describes as ‘my icon in everything.’  Like her, Amy has a deep yearning for a family of her own and there are several moments when Amy interacts with children with interest and tenderness.  And yet along with this is the ever-present pull towards drugs and alcohol which in effect renders family life beyond her.  

Amy’s was a lifestyle most people would revolt against and yet this divided life between the best of aspirations and dark reality is something we all have to live with to some extent.  It is life’s greatest challenge to be what we want to be.   The Psalmist prays intensely:

‘Teach me your way, Lord, 

that I may rely on your faithfulness.

give me an undivided heart,

that I may fear your name.’   (Psalm 86: 11)  

  

An ‘undivided heart’ that lives entirely according to the way of God. Not according to the darker impulses that lead in another direction.   This diversion was something that the Apostle Paul felt very powerfully even after his most dramatic conversion.  It showed itself in his awareness of the goodness in the Law of God but also in his inability to put it into practise.  Despite the presence of the Holy Spirit in his life, he still possess a ‘sinful nature’, broken, and still with a tendency to work against ‘the way of God’.  

In Romans 7: 14- 20 Paul speaks in anguish of his awareness of what is good and his inability to put it into practise:

‘I do not understand what I do.  For what I want to do I do not do but what I hate I do.’  (v. 15).  

And:

‘For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is in my sinful nature.  For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.  For I do not do the good I want to do but the evil I do not want to do – this I keep on doing . . .” (vv. 18-19) 

Paul ends up by saying there is a kind of Civil War going on within his ‘inner being’ that too often he loses.  His desperate need is to be taken out of this deadly conflict and that is only possible through Christ the Deliverer who through His  grace grants forgiveness and through His Spirit provides the strength to overcome.   Listen to Paul’s cry:

‘What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!’  (vv. 24-25)

It has been my privilege through the years to know men and women who have known the horrors of addiction, destructive of themselves and important relationships, but have come to know the power of the Deliverer.  The struggles may have continued even to the extent of what addicts call a ‘fall’ but in their renewed life, like Paul, they were able to cry out to the Deliverer and to know His strength and His peace. And in sharing his personal Civil War Paul has given us all hope that as we deal with our own compulsive behaviours, in the Holy Spirit there is a way through.

Still Quarrying: Forgiven!

 One of the biggest challenges in the Christian faith is forgiveness.  It is sometimes presented in such a way that if we are the victim of some insult, betrayal, theft or assault our automatic response should be to forgive.  But in practise it is never that easy.  Complications arise. What, for instance, if the person who has caused us such pain does not feel in need of forgiveness?  Their view is we deserved what we got.  Or even more complicated.  A Christian believes that what he/she said to us or did to us, although it has caused us pain, was the right thing and is so recognised in Heaven.  

It can be even more of a challenge, however, to believe that we are forgiven.  It is at the heart of our faith that God through the death of Jesus has dealt with all our sin, but has it really sunk in?  Yesterday I had an idea that I would write down on pieces of paper all those things that trouble me about my past, put them in a bin liner and rejoice to see the binman take it all away to a place I will never know.  But then it occurred to me that I would ever completely wipe out all that stuff from my mind and was never meant to.   John Newton could write about ‘Amazing Grace’ because he was mindful of what he was before he took the story of Jesus to his heart and was grateful that by the grace of God he was given the opportunity to begin again.  

Then think about Mary Magdalene, a faithful follower of Jesus.    Luke tells us that she lived a disturbed life before the turn-around she experienced when she encountered Jesus.  (Luke 8: 1-2) If it was known about her past in the community and the fellowship of believers, it cannot have been very far away from her mind.  

Paul saw himself and all Christians as ‘a new creation’ in Christ but never forgot that he had in the past colluded in the deaths by execution of people in the rising Christian movement.   Peter never forgot that he had denied Jesus.  But all these people could stand up under the weight of past sin because they believed that it no longer defined their lives.  They were no longer just sinners, but sinners renewed in the power of the Holy Spirit.  ‘Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven.’  

The best way forward for us all is to meditate on the powerful images we find in Scripture of what it means to be forgiven.

In his final prayer the prophet Micah says:

‘Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives the transgression of the remnant of his inheritance?  You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy.  You will again have compassion on us; you will tread our sins under foot and hurl all our iniquities into the deaths of the sea.’  (Micah 7: 18-19)

Consider the depths of the sea.  That is the distance of our sins from us.  They may still be there in some unfathomed place, we remember them, but they no longer touch us, they no longer define our lives.  

The Psalmist writes:

For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.’  (Psalm103: 11-12)

It’s a powerful image.  God taking charge of our sins and hurling them into the depths of space.  They are ‘removed’ from us.  They may still be there in some unexplored place, we remember them, but they no longer touch us, they no longer define our lives.   

As we approach Holy Week we are invited to ponder the last days of Jesus on this earth and the fulfilment of his mission to make it possible for us to be forgiven, and to be part of a community where the temperature of forgiveness among us is high.  Having been touched by the power of forgiveness in our lives, however much of a challenge it may be, nevertheless it should never be absent from Christian aspiration.  

Still Quarrying: Conditional Goodwill?

 

On the Sunday after Queen Elizabeth died, I opened the morning service at St Paul’s by acknowledging the events of the past week and giving notice that prayers would be said for her family in their sorrow and for the King in particular as he faced new responsibilities and challenges.  In the Children’s Talk I spoke about the Queen’s tea party with Paddington, how she served Paddington that day, how she served the nation through the years, and how we are always blessed by people who give of themselves for the sake of others.  The Scripture tie up was God’s gift to us of Jesus and how Jesus in turn lived a life of giving to those who needed Him most.  

 

That was it really.  Looking back at my sermon notes there were no references to the Queen.  I stuck to my usual task of providing what I hoped was a faithful exposition of a passage of Scripture, on this occasion Psalm 85.

 

The service had even more significance for me.  It was the last time I would celebrate the Lord’s Supper in St Paul’s.  The following Sunday would see my last service before retiring.  To break bread and share wine in memory of our Lord is always a high point in ministry but on this occasion the emotions were even stronger.  

 

The service over, I am at the back of the Church where people are gathered as usual, and  today mindful of how I must be feeling there are hugs and the occasional tears and it’s an effort to keep myself together.  I see a man standing apart from the general huddle.  He says he wants to talk to me.  I don’t know him.  Obviously, a visitor.  And he looks as if he is ready to do battle.  No name is offered.  He introduces himself as a member of a charity that works with the homeless and he is distressed at what he perceived to be the prominence I had given to the Queen in the service.  The wealth and privilege she represents has no relevance to people on the street.  

 

Now you must understand that immediately after a service is not the best time to have a go at a preacher.  Having poured out your soul for well over an hour in prayer and preaching is emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually demanding.  Adrenaline is pumping and weighing on your mind is the question: ‘Did they get the message?’  It’s a kind of maelstrom of the inner being that not even close friends or family members can fully appreciate.  So to have this man suggest that I had departed from my first responsibility to preach the Gospel was hard to take.  

 

I cannot clearly remember how I responded although I did manage to refer to my longstanding involvement with the Preshal Trust in Govan with it’s concern for the marginalised in society.  But in the end, it was all rather defensive and maybe even verging on incoherence.  The look on his face told me that for all the impression I was making I might as well have been stoning him with popcorn.  Needless to say the encounter did not end well.  

 

Monarchy does get people worked up one way or another.  Others just accept it as part of our national life.  It has some surprising supporters.  When former First Minister Alex Salmond was asked if the monarchy would have a role in an independent Scotland he responded: ‘Elizabeth Queen of Scots sounds good to me.’  

 

Personally, my respect for the Queen grew through the years as I learned more of her faith and her deep commitment to serve.  Of all the words spoken and written during the Covid pandemic, her broadcast to the nation ending with the heartfelt hope that ‘we will meet again’ has stayed with me.  Maybe what was happening was a deeper appreciation of the person who cared about those who were bereaved and suffering and who as a Christian she held in her prayers, looking forward in faith to better days.

 

That is something we all have to remember when thinking about the King and his present health challenges.   The Church’s relation to the State has for centuries been a source of controversy and passages of Scripture have been cited to support different and, indeed, opposing views.  What should be remembered by all groups is that human beings make up the machinery of government.  They make mistakes as well as do good, they carry a great weight of responsibility, and therefore stand in need of the prayers of the Christian community.  When governments work at their best justice is pursued, stability maintained, and the sick and vulnerable are a care priority.  It is to those ends that we uphold them in prayer.  When governments depart from those priorities it is a matter of concern, but the prayers continue with the emphasis on change.  It was on this basis that the Confessing Church under the Third Reich prayed for Adolf Hitler.  

 

Many have been the responses to the news of the King’s cancer diagnosis, but it has been sad to read and hear what can only be described as conditional goodwill.  Some have taken this opportunity to express their disagreement with the institution of the monarchy or their dislike of the King personally along the lines of: ‘I disagree with the monarchy but best wishes to the King.’  A man’s cancer is not an opportunity to press personal opinions.  To draw near someone with an expression of goodwill and at the same time maintain a resolute distance seems disingenuous in the extreme.  In the end a man has received the diagnosis we all dread.  What would we like to hear in these circumstances?  

 

Everyone llikes to be called a Good Samaritan but have we really grasped what it means?  It is not just a call to perform ‘good deeds’ but to show a radical,  concern for the  traumatised in society regardless of race and religion, and to allow nothing, not money or inconvenience to come in the way of responding to his need.  The Samaritan was focussed on the person.  Whatever barriers existed between himself and the mugged and wounded Jew were irrelevant.  (Luke 10: 25-37)

 

Remember Jesus did not tell stories just to entertain.  He expected a response.  When a listener had grasped that differences mean nothing in face of suffering and need he said:

 

‘Go and do likewise.’  

Still Quarrying: Wheat And Weeds.

 There have been horrific acts of violence reported in the media in the past week not least the chemical assault on a mother and her children by Abdul Ezedi  granted asylum from Afghanistan by the British government.  Much has been made in the media that Ezedi’s third successful application for asylum was influenced by his conversion to Christianity.  In a radio interview Robert Jenerick, former Minister of State for Immigration, warned against spurious claims for asylum supported by ‘well well-meaning but naïve vicars and priests.’   

 

Phillip North, the Anglican Bishop of Blackburn, has responded to this by outlining the preparation that is required by anyone wishing to join the Church of England.  But of more significance was his argument that no matter how faithful someone might have been in their church attendance and their willingness to take vows of membership it is impossible to look into their souls to ascertain where they actually stand with Jesus Christ.  In the end the granting of asylum is the responsibility of government and not the Church.  

 

This is exactly what was going through my mind.  I am not the only minister who has seen people through preparation for membership, heard them take vows of membership before God and a congregation, only to see them disappear like the proverbial snow off a dyke, usually when the wedding or baptism has taken place, or the first flush of enthusiasm has died.  I never found it easy just to mentally shrug my shoulders with a some you win some you lose attitude.  Questions arise as to how we do things in the Church.  Have we reduced membership to the level of any other club or organisation when Jesus made it clear that discipleship involved first and foremost

Commitment to Him and the taking up of a cross?  

 

But it’s the Bishop’s point that stands.  We cannot look into people’s souls to ascertain where people stand with Jesus Christ. Jesus warns us against passing judgment on people’s eternal souls and taking precipitate action against those who may raise questions in our minds with regard to their commitment.  He told a story about a farmer who sowed wheat which an enemy tried to spoil by sowing weeds.  The farm hands wanted to pull up the weeds, but the farmer refused.  Even more damage could be done to the crop.  ‘Let both grow together until the harvest.’  (Matthew 13: 24-30)

 

That is a challenge to us all.  But as with many things, when we find ourselves reacting against others in the Church, how do we look from the perspective of eternity, in the eyes of the only One who looks into our depths?