Still Quarrying 124 - Holy Week: Cleansing.

Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on what we call Palm Sunday created quite a stir.  The city was packed with people from all over Israel and beyond, come together to celebrate the Passover.  It was a tense time for the Roman authorities.  There would be a high level of resentment as devout Jews saw the imperial banners in the Holy City and were reminded that they were under the heel of a pagan power.  A feeling that was sure to be exploited by the more extreme nationalistic elements in the nation.  

Into this volatile atmosphere comes Jesus riding on a donkey.  This was fairly common for a visiting King.  He was symbolically sending out a message that he came in peace.  But for Jews who knew the ancient Scriptures this was fulfilment of a prophecy in the book of Zechariah:

‘Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’  (Zechariah 9: 9)

In the minds of many people this pointed forward to a day when a special King, anointed by God, would come to Jerusalem in this manner and a new golden age for Israel would open up when she would become the premier super-power throughout the earth.  In the present circumstances this would mean the overthrow of the Romans.  

As things turned out Jesus made no political gestures on the day or on subsequent days.  The first thing He did  after his entry according to Mark was to go to the Temple where He did nothing: 

‘Jesus entered Jerusalem and went to the Temple.  He looked around at everything, but since it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.’  (Mark 11: 11)

It was the next day, Monday in Holy Week for us, that one of the great dramas of Jesus’ ministry unfolds.  Returning from Bethany:

‘Jesus entered the temple courts and began driving out those who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves,  and would not allow anyone to carry merchandise through the temple courts.  And as he taught them, he said, “Is it not written: ‘My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations’? But you have made it ‘a den of robbers.’” (Mark 11: 15-17)

It was as if Jesus was saying that the biggest problem with Israel was not the Romans but themselves.  They were looking to a political solution to their problems when what was needed was spiritual reformation.  Like the Temple the nation stood in need of cleansing.  It is often forgotten that much of Jesus’ time in his last week on earth was spent teaching in the Temple and debating with the religious establishment of the day.  Right to the end Jesus was calling on men and women to listen to the voice of God.  

The easy application of this is to mourn the spiritual poverty of our own nation and to pray for the day when hearts will be open to the Gospel.  This is fine as long as we remember that the pattern in Scripture is for God to speak through His people, to proclaim His truth, to live by His ways, to be the salt that preserves what is good and the light that shines in the darkness of the world.   It could be said confidently that our nation has turned its back on the Gospel.  Not long ago, in the space of a week, I heard from two different sources that the process of secularisation has been more rapid in Scotland than in any other European nation.  That did not surprise me but then what weighs heavily is the question of the Churches’ response.  Jesus shows the way.  In a troubled time in the history of His nation Jesus went to the Temple, the spiritual powerhouse, looked around and didn’t like what He saw.  The need of those who worshipped and sacrificed and taught there was repentance, a decisive turning to God.  

This day in Holy Week is an opportunity for self-examination, for the Church to look at herself, to pray that the Holy Spirit will reveal where we are going wrong and to show us the way forward.  In an interview Terry Waite gave to the Financial Times two years ago he explained that he had drifted from the Church of England and complained that the worship had become ‘a clergyman babbling away his own interpretation of how things ought to be.’  

I am not a member of the Church of England but I know that she has men and women in leadership who seek to avoid ‘babbling’ but seek the voice of God in Scripture and are committed to sharing that with their people and the community of which they are a part.  And that is where we all have to begin.  There is nowhere else to go for the Church if we are seeking the cleansing that is the great need of the hour.  

Still Quarrying 124 - Holy Week.

In my ‘mother church’ in Pollok much was made of Holy Week.   Weeks ahead the parish was leafletted  to let people know about the services that would be taking place.  Every morning there would be a service at 7. 45 am which some people attended before work.  (It was at one of these that I conducted my first service aged 17.)  There would also be a service at 7. 30 pm usually conducted by a guest preacher with tea and hot cross buns afterwards.  And on Easter Day there was a service at 6 am followed by a family breakfast.  So I grew up with a sense that this was a special time for fellowship and reflection on the final days of Jesus’ life on earth.

That general pattern of worship was followed at Glasgow Cathedral where I was Assistant for two years.  The one new experience for me was the Three Hours Devotion on Good Friday.  The focus here was on the seven words of Jesus from the Cross which were the basis of meditations given by seven preachers.  That might sound like heavy going but but I always found it helpful.  And there was always an opportunity for people to leave during the hymns!

When I went to my first parish in Stevenston: Ardeer I was delighted to find that Holy Week was observed with services every evening.  In my first year there I preached  every evening.  When Easter Day dawned, the one day when you want to exude some ‘oomph’,  I was exhausted.  So in following years I had some pals to help out with the preaching.  

I am aware that not every Christian tradition has a place for Holy Week and I respect their reasons.  It seems to me, though, that it’s an opportunity to reflect more deeply on Jesus’ sacrifice and what it means to us now.  The space that is given in the Gospels to the events in Jesus’ last week is proof of the importance the early Church placed on His death.     That same focus is vital in the strengthening of the Church’s faith in every age.  But it should never be forgotten  that that same focus can bring to birth new faith.  Some years ago a woman told me that she had come to faith in a service I conducted on the Tuesday of Holy Week in Croftfoot Parish Church.  Sometimes we don’t take seriously enough Paul’s conviction that the preaching of the cross is ‘the power of God and the wisdom of God.’  (1 Corinthians 1: 24)

Of course there will be no  services this Holy Week and that will feel strange to many of us.   But I suspect there will be relevant broadcasts on television and radio as well as a flood of material online.  My priority will be to engage with the story of Jesus’ last days on earth as we find it in the Gospels.  I once heard Professor Donald Macleod say that the story has its own power in which we need to trust for the strengthening of faith and the birth of faith.  Verse 4 of the hymn ‘Tell me the old, old story . . .’  still has something to say to us about the power of the story:

‘Tell me the same old story 

 When you have cause to fear

 That this world’s empty glory

 Is costing me too dear.

 Yes, and when that world’s glory 

 Shall dawn upon my soul,

 Tell me the old, old story,

 ‘Christ Jesus makes thee whole.’

The story has power to turn our hearts more decisively towards Christ to experience the change only He can bring.  No Holy Week services this year but we have the story.  That means Holy Week 2020 could be the most significant for many people.

Still Quarrying 123 - Living Word.

I sometimes catch ‘Desert Island Discs’ on Radio 4.  Yesterday the ‘castaway’ was the actor Brian Cox.  He spoke very movingly of his childhood in Dundee and the poverty he experienced which in many ways has shaped his outlook on life not least his politics.  He also had heart-felt reasons for his eight choices of music, some of which chimed with my own taste.  Johnny Cash, Joni Mitchell and the Beach Boys could well figure in my eight choices if ever invited.  

At the end of the programme Brian Cox was asked the usual questions.  If he could take just one of his discs to the island which would it be?  Which luxury would he like to take?  What book would he take apart from the Bible and Shakespeare which are already there?  In response to the latter he very quickly and firmly stated: ‘Well, I don’t particularly want the Bible.’  He was told by presenter Lauren Laverne that he was getting it anyway!

He is not the first castaway to object to having the Bible on the desert island.  It is maybe not surprising but you can’t help wondering what lies behind it.  It’s quite possible that the mention of the Bible stirs up some dark and painful associations.  Maybe not about the Bible itself so much as people who professed to value it and live by it and yet were clearly not shaped by its truths.  

We are not quite in desert island mode at present although closer to it than we have ever been.  My main distraction has been reading although in everything I have gone through it would be hard to pick out one book that had that desert island quality about it.   I can say though that I have been most grateful for time spent with my Bible.  Maybe you’re thinking: ‘He would say that wouldn’t he!’  But trust me there has been nothing more helpful to me over last year and into this present crisis than keeping company with the ancient voices of faith, the Bible people, who faced some of the worst circumstances that could fall on human experience and yet were never ultimately shaken out of their faith in a good and loving God.  

Don’t get me wrong.  There have been times when the words have seemed to slide off the surface of my brain, rain falling on stone as John Calvin might say.   But there have been other times which I would describe as Emmaus experiences (Luke 24: 13-32) when like the two bewildered and downhearted followers of Jesus on the road my heart has burned within me and to paraphrase the old hymn Jesus was very near.  

I have lived through a time when ‘spirituality’ has become fashionable and Christians have been drawn into various methods and techniques to experience the reality of God more fully.  I haven’t been unaffected by this to some degree but nothing satisfies more than an open Bible and time to reflect upon a passage or even just a verse.  For me that is the door that opens up to the reality of God.  This is not to say that the Bible cannot be perplexing, even baffling, but it’s my conviction that what is needful to keep secure our relationship with God and live according to His ways is accessible to all.  

While studying English at university one of our professors was said to be an expert at ‘hearing the voice beneath the text.‘   In other words in some unique way getting in touch with the author and his/her message.  My prayer when I open the Bible is that I will not just understand but that I hear the Voice that speaks to us through the ages.  

Still Quarrying 122 - Renewal.

That was a new experience this morning!  We read a story to our grandson Busby over 300 miles away in Cheltenham, played a game with him and sang a song.  We were also able to see his wee brother, four month old Roddy,  who probably didn’t know much of what was going on but looked happy enough.  All possible because of Face Time on the Manse ipad.  It was good fun and an opportunity to be grateful for the technology that enable us to keep in touch.  Of course as soon as I write that you realise what is missing.  We can’t touch.  I haven’t yet had a cuddle from Roddy.  Altogether now: ‘Awww.’  

There was a new experience yesterday which made me see that the technology doesn’t just enable us to maintain relationships but also to forge new ones.  A young minister in Wick, Andrew Barrie, had been in touch last week.  He wanted to interview me on Face Time about my cancer experience for his video blog.  That happened yesterday and when it was over we got to chatting.  It turns out I know his father also a minister.  We were both in Ardrossan Presbytery as baby ministers.  Apart from making me feel old I came away from our time together feeling I had made a new friend.

Andrew was telling me about the live streaming his congregations had begun for Sunday worship.  One of the great encouragements so far has been the number of non-members who have been logging on.  It may be that these times have turned people’s hearts Godwards.  Perhaps going to Church has for many reasons been a problem for certain people.  These and other thoughts come to mind.   

What is of real importance for us all, however, is to take these experiences to heart and to learn the lessons that are emerging from these times.  In a sense we should not waste the challenge of these times in just hoping that we will get back to normal.  This is an opportunity for reflection and preparation  because what we are going through will leave us changed forever.  The Church will never be the same.  The eternal truths of the Gospel will stand and ‘shall from age to age endure’.  But how we share these truths and live them out in our lives should always be subject to scrutiny and adaption.  The vision of the Reformers embraced the dictum that the Church should be  ‘Reformed and Reforming.‘   We need always to be on a stretch to find the best way to share the story of Jesus.   This doesn’t mean tinkering with structures and chasing every fad and fashion.  What is needed apart from an essential spirit of repentance is a serious consideration of how best we  can bear our witness in the community in which we are set down.  

The present crisis has already exercised the imagination of Churches of every tradition throughout the world.  Together we see the need to hold things together until these days are behind us.  But let us pray that this will be a prelude to a new vision of the Church with mission at her heart, a launching pad for the Gospel, what I once heard described as ‘the greatest truths anyone can ever stumble upon.‘    

Still Quarrying 121 - The Trenches?

‘Another day in the trenches!’  That was among my first thoughts the other day.  I don’t know where it came from but I suspect it was one of the Home Alone movies where eight year old Kevin MacCallister pits himself against very persistent and very incompetent home invaders.  Unlike Kevin we do not have an enemy we can see and our aim is to get through these days depending on the skills and expertise of others.  Still, this does not mean that we should lack personal purpose and aspiration.  

Terry Waite is back in the news.  His experience as a hostage in Lebanon for almost five years mainly in solitary confinement means that he can speak to these times of social isolation.  He puts things in perspective.  Compared to his experience we are actually quite well off in the resources available to us that can keep us strong.   What is needed, he says, is for us all to structure our day, be grateful for what we have, read and be creative.

It has occurred to me that in some ways I am way ahead of most people.  I’ve had periods of lockdown over the past year not least since the transplant in early January.  So to an extent nothing much as changed.  Certainly there is new concern over family and friends and how they may be affected.  And from time to time there is anxiety as to what might be the consequences if I with low immunity pick up the virus.    But every day brings things to do: the blog, my books, cards and emails to write, phone calls to make and receive and a very light exercise programme specially designed for me by my pal and Personal Trainer Fraser Drake who runs the Kumafit gym in Milngavie.   This is apart from the ever supportive companionship of Gabrielle and the blessings of Scripture and prayer.   So it’s not really day after day ‘in the trenches’.  

I do recognise, of course, that a constant routine can become burdensome.  I was speaking to someone recently who is having to work from home and is a creative kind of guy but the monotony is beginning to get to him.  I think this will probably be the biggest challenge for many of us.  There are so many books you can read, DVDs you can watch, contacts you can make before you come to realise what you are missing.

It makes me think of Paul the Apostle as he neared the end of his life.  He is in prison for the second time in Rome.  Previously it was a kind of home arrest where he had comparative freedom but now he is in chains and stuck in what one scholar has described as some ‘dismal underground dungeon with a hole in the ceiling for light and air.’  However, visitors seem to be allowed to some extent and so he writes to his friend Timothy, a letter probably smuggled out, and urges him to come and bring some comforts with him:

‘When you come, bring the cloak that I left with Carpus at Troas, and my scrolls, especially the parchments.’  (2 Timothy 4: 13)  

The picture is someone who is feeling the cold, often lonely and  needs something to read, especially ‘the parchments’ which are probably the Scriptures.  This has to be set alongside Paul’s declaration in Philippians 4: 11-13 during a previous imprisonment that he has found ‘the secret of being content in any and every situation . . . I can do everything through him who gives me strength.’  Has there been a wavering in Paul’s conviction that he now needs company and books?  I don’t think so.  Paul was like the rest of us.  Sometimes the strength he needed came to him through fellowship with God’s people and the written Word of God.  But even when these were inaccessible he knew the powerful presence of the Risen Lord.  In 2 Timothy 4: 16-17 he recalls his appearance before the civil authorities in Rome when he was very much on his own.  He refers to the desertion of those he thought were his friends.  But then comes this extraordinary statement:

‘But the Lord stood at my side and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed and all the Gentiles might hear it. And I was delivered from the lion’s mouth.’  (2 Timothy 4: 17)

Paul was strong within himself and able to use the present challenging circumstances for the advancement of the Gospel.  

What I am taking from this is that in those days when I might feel as if I am ‘in the trenches’ or that the monotony of these strange days threatens to crush there is a Presence who touches my inner being and not just for my own benefit but for the benefit of others.  I hope you all experience these great truths in the days ahead.  

Still Quarrying 120 - Sharing.

We have been watching the News more than usual and I noticed that the BBC news reader George Alagiah has been missing recently.  The reason for this came out yesterday.  He is a coronavirus victim.  It is mild but it comes in addition to the bowel cancer he has suffered since 2014.   he has had innumerable chemotherapy treatments but his condition remains at stage 4.  

He was interviewed on the News last night and spoke in his dignified and warm-hearted way of his recent experience.  One thing in particular rang a bell with me.  He said that cancer sufferers are used to living with uncertainty and worst case scenarios and therefore are probably better equipped to deal with the present crisis:  "In some ways, I think that those of us living with cancer are stronger because we kind of know what it is like to go into something where the outcomes are uncertain.”

I think there is something in this.  Despite the generally encouraging statistics of survival, when you receive a cancer diagnosis the worst of outcomes is never completely out of your mind.  However, you learn to live with it, drawing on whatever personal resources you have including faith.   The threat of the coronavirus does not loom as large as the cancer itself and what strength has been built up in the cancer experience is there to face the new challenge.  

Listening to George last night brought home to me the importance of shared experience.  ‘I know how you feel’ is sometimes said in a glib way.  And the response: ‘How can you possibly know how I feel?’ is understandable.  But often shared experience can be a strength and an encouragement to sufferers.  I know how much I have benefited from listening to and reading about fellow myeloma sufferers.   What has been gathered in the experience of others has been a blessing.  I think Paul knew about this:

‘Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,  who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.’  (2 Corinthians 1: 3-4)

Still Quarrying 119 - Blows On A Bruise.

Saturday afternoon and I was watching the telly.  It was the 1943 version of Jane Eyre with Joan Fontaine and Orson Welles.  I was completely lost in it.  Hardly moved a muscle in two hours.  I was reminded of something my now deceased brother used to say that the only decent films ever made were in black and white!  I wouldn’t go that far but certainly this old movie was essentially faithful to the darkness at the heart of the original novel.  Cruelty, neglect, madness, deception all feature before in the end we see the triumph of love.  

Jane is one of those people to whom bad things happen.  Orphaned at an early age, taken into the home of an uncaring aunt, sent to a school where the rod was never spared, eventually finding her way in the world but deceived by the man she loved.  It is just one blow after another falling on a vulnerable life.  And yet probably not untypical of the nineteenth century - or maybe any century with not always the happy ending Jane was granted.

Think about Job and how he was stripped of everything that gave him status and satisfaction in the world.  He loses property, family and finally his health.   Every blow falling on a bruise.  He comes to mind when I think of some people I have known.  At one level you accept that we are all prone to suffering but why so much for some?  I remember being struck dumb when I heard that Joni Eareckson had been diagnosed with cancer.  I really did say in my heart: ‘Lord, isn’t quadriplegia enough without this?‘   But then I see Joni’s attitude, sharing her confidence that she is still in the hands of a God who loves her, who considers her worth the death of His Son.   

These were the truths that in the end resonated in the heart of Job.  He realised he would never have all the answers but he received an assurance that God is sovereign, that He is in control, that He is working in and through suffering according to His good and loving purpose.  That is the assurance we find in the sufferings of Jesus.  With Him it was one thing after another.  Blows falling on a bruise.  The inner torment of Gethsemene, the abandonment of friends, the mockery and the whip and then the horrendous torture of Calvary.   Nothing of God there would be an understandable response.  And yet God was present and working out His purpose for the good of us all.

It is faith in this God which sustains those we might judge as having had more than their ‘fair share’ of misfortune.  The Iolaire tragedy in 1919 had far reaching effects on the people of Lewis and Harris.  At least 201 men returning from war service on New Year’s day lost their lives as the vessel Iolaire struck rocks known as ‘the Beasts of Holm’ just yards from shore.  The writer Ian Crichton Smith, a native of Lewis and an atheist, marveled that an event like this should have been the death of faith on the island.  Instead it grew stronger.  The reason lies in the nature of the God who calls for faith, the God who has spoken to the world of His love in the death of His Son.