Standing upright

Evening primroses

We've recently had stormy weather, whose strong winds have pushed heavily against the taller plants in our garden. However, today is calm and they're still standing. Some of them, like the runner beans, have clung onto the strings and hazel poles for support. Some, like the sugar snap peas, have clasped neighbouring plants with their arms. Others, like the evening primroses, have been able to stand on their own, some several feet high, without holding onto anything.

Plants' ability to stand upright comes from 'turgidity'--the pressure of water swelling through their cells, enabling them to maintain their skyward posture even in the midst of strong winds.

What or who do we rely on for support when we face challenges? What is the source of our own turgidity?

Like vines latching onto other vines, if we are fortunate, we can find support among family, friends, neighbours or other loved ones.

We might also find some strength through how we conduct ourselves. As the Psalmist writes, those who have integrity--for example by speaking the truth from the heart, keeping their oath ‘even when it hurts’--will not be shaken (Ps. 15).

Psalm 16 reminds us that God is the most important source of our strength and turgidity: 'I have set the LORD always before me. Because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken' (v. 8).

When we fix our eyes on God, we can discover that he is the One supporting us.

Job faced a series of tragedies in a short time: all at once he learned that he had lost all his children and property, and then he became afflicted with painful sores throughout his entire body to the point that he wished he had never been born (Job 1-3).

In the midst of his grief, however, Job always set the LORD before him. This did not always look like complete trust or adoration; it often came in the form of accusatory questions. But he never cursed God, and even in his pain, he blessed God (1:21). In the end, he turned completely to God in repentance and humility, acknowledging him as Lord.

Although God never directly answered Job's questions, God did something more important: he met with Job face to face, and through this encounter, Job's questions were resolved (42:1-6).

It is out of the storm that God says to Job, 'Gird your waist like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer Me' (38:3). This summons Job to stand upright before God in confidence and humility.

This standing is not a physical act (although it may include that) but humbly and confidently turning to God. It means having the humility to confess that we belong fully to God, even when we don't have answers--and the courage to present ourselves before that same God who is proud of us when we remain faithful to him and maintain our integrity, as Job did.

In the midst of our storms, as we set the LORD before us, perhaps we can hear God also calling us to stand upright. We can stand as Job stood: in the company of Jesus, who stands even now before the heavenly throne (Acts 7:55-56). We can bring before the Holy One our pain, questions and--even now--our praise. We can stand knowing that through Christ's help, we will never be shaken.

Some trust in chariots and some in horses,

but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.

They are brought to their knees and fall,

but we rise up and stand firm. 

Psalm 20:7-8

Unity in Christ's servant leadership

In the midst of social divisions, I have been reflecting on a passage in the letter to the Ephesians that describes God's will for unity.

St Paul writes that God has revealed the mystery of his will, which will unfold at the right time: 'to bring unity to all things in heaven and on earth under Christ' (Eph. 1:9-10; see also Col. 1:15-20).

Thus, God's overarching plan for heaven and earth has been to unite them both under the leadership of Christ. 

Before unpacking what Christ's leadership looks like, it's important to understand how we believe God has guided Old Testament and Early Church history towards making Christ head of all things.

Guiding history towards Christ

In the light of this revelation of God's will, the Early Church began understanding the events, writings and even key people of the Old Testament as signposts to Christ (e.g. Lk. 24:44).

For example, the first human Adam becomes understood as the prototype for Christ. St Paul compares the two, saying the first Adam was a living being, and the last Adam (Christ) was a life-giving spirit (1 Cor. 15:45). 

God's promise to Abraham, too, is understood as being fulfilled in Christ, the Seed of Abraham through whom all peoples on earth are blessed (Gal. 3:14-16).

Further, King David is seen as a promise of Christ, who will inherit King David's throne and whose kingdom will never end (Luke 1:31-33).

These are just a few examples, but through it all, the Church has understood that God has guided history towards the coming of the Messiah, whose holy life offered to God saves humanity from sin, death and evil. God has exalted him, making him our kingly high priest (Heb. 5:8-10) who intercedes for us and ministers to God in the heavenly Holy of Holies, where he waits for all enemies to submit to him (10:13), the last of which is death (1 Cor. 15:26). 

Further, although this plan primarily concerns Jewish history, God's intention has been to use the Jewish people, culminating in the Messiah, to bring salvation to all nations (e.g. Eph. 2:11-13). The Early Church gradually understood that through Christ, the barrier dividing Jew and Gentile (2:14-18), and indeed all categories of people (e.g. Gal. 3:26-29), has been replaced by unity in submission to Christ, the Lord of all. 

In other words, God has been uniting this divided world under Christ's leadership.

The nature of Christ's leadership

Christ's leadership is not characterised by an attitude of superiority or an abuse of power, but rather by humility. As Jesus teaches his disciples, those who want to be great should not imitate the political or business world around them, in which leaders flaunt their authority ('lord it over them'), but rather the greatest among them should be servants of all (Mk. 10:42-45).

Thus, Christ's leadership is sacrificial. He uses his power to support and strengthen those he leads. St Paul uses the metaphor of a marriage to describe the relationship between Christ and the Church, saying Christ is like the husband and the Church is like the wife (Eph. 5:23). But St Paul challenges his readers' expectations of the husband's authority, saying Christ uses his headship not for self-gain but rather to consider and respond to the Church's needs (vv. 25-20). 

This headship is expressed in the Orthodox Christian icon below, entitled 'Christ the Bridegroom':

Christ the Bridegroom

It is through Jesus' obedience to God through suffering that he most fully displays his love for his Bride the Church, making her holy through his sacrifice (Eph. 5:25-26). Christ uses his authority not as a tool for control but as a vehicle for healing. 

Also, Christ's sacrifice is not that of a doormat allowing people to bully him, but that of a soldier exchanging himself for prisoners held hostage (and then escaping the prison, tearing it down as he goes!). The difference between the doormat and the soldier here is that the former has no strength, whereas the latter offers the strength he has to help others.

In other words, St Paul writes that Jesus let go of his position as God the Son in heaven and humbled himself by becoming a human and then offering his life, and thus God raised him to the place of highest honour, 

'that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,

in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,

to the glory of God the Father' (Phil. 2:6-11).

Christ has become leader of all things precisely because he has become servant of all.

Unity through worshipping God in Christ

God's will is to unite all things in Christ. However, we live in a divided world that does not recognise Jesus as Lord. This world submits to other rulers that oppose Christ's teachings and authority. The struggle exists in each of us between turning to Christ in repentance or yielding to the sin that crouches at our doors. Our divisions and conflicts come from our rejection of God (James 4:1-4). 

Christ is head of all things, and we see this most clearly through his being the head of the Church. (By 'Church' I mean God's people in Christ, united by the Holy Spirit; defining this further is beyond the scope of this blog post.) Together, Christ and the Church form one inseparable body (1 Cor. 12:13), which Christ leads and serves. Thus, the Church is the fullest expression to the world of God's will for all things. Although the Church often fails at living up to her calling, she is the clearest sign of what it looks like to submit to the servant leadership of Christ.

Among all the Church's activities, it is her worship that most clearly reveals the unity that God intends between heaven and earth. Through her worship, the Church on earth joins the worship that is happening in heaven (see Heb. 8:1-5) among the Saints, angels and God: the communion feast of the kingdom of God that is the destination of all things (see Isa. 25:6-8).

Thus, it is also God's will that we worship him (see Jn. 4:23-24), since it is in worshipping him that we are united under the leadership of Christ, the high priest and worship leader who serves in the heavenly sanctuary (Heb. 8:2).

This means that the closer we move towards the Church, the closer we move towards Christ (and the opposite is true: the more we separate ourselves from the Church, the more we separate ourselves from Christ). If we love Christ, we must also love Christ's Bride, since they are one.

Together with the whole Church, we wait for our Bridegroom's return, worshipping God and sharing with the world the Gospel message of both warning and hope that Christ is Lord: warning because he will 'put all his enemies under his feet' (1 Cor. 15:25), and hope because 'blessed are all who trust in him' (Ps. 2:12).

Sugar snap peas and faith

Sugar snap peas

The sugar snap peas in our garden have grown to become a cluster of vines spreading up along old tree branches and ropes. I enjoy peering through the green thicket, looking for a camouflaged pod to eat as a midday snack. I am continually surprised that, no matter how many pods I've harvested, there always seems to be one more hidden somewhere in the shadows. 

So too, there is always something new to discover about Jesus. 

Not everyone sees things this way, though. Sometimes people quit looking early on because they think they know everything there is to know about him. In the Gospel of Mark, when Jesus visits his hometown of Nazareth and teaches in the synagogue, the people are at first amazed at his wisdom and power, but this quickly turns to offense: 'Isn't this the carpenter?' they ask. 'Isn't this Mary's son and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas and Simon? Aren't his sisters here with us?' (Mark 6:2-3). 

Jesus is unable to do any miracles there (except heal a few sick people), and St Mark says 'he was amazed at their lack of faith' (6:6). Jesus' amazement is significant because in the Gospel of Mark, amazement usually comes from other people about Jesus, whether because of his teaching, power or even his silence (1:22, 27; 6:51; 15:5). In this case alone, though, Jesus himself is amazed--and it's because of how little faith they have in him.

Their lack of faith comes from their overfamiliarity with Jesus. As the English proverb says, 'Familiarity breeds contempt.' They know all sorts of things about him, like his family tree, the tables and chairs he's built, his foibles and all the local gossip about him, but they have missed the most important thing: he is also the Son of God. 

Their lack of faith gives me three main thoughts to chew on.

Overfamiliarity can blind us from recognising Jesus' true identity

What gossip have we heard about Jesus? Our culture often portrays Jesus in misleading ways, whether as a well-intentioned but ultimately failed idealist, an elitist who encourages our prejudices or an extremely advanced but still only-human guru. In any case, it fails to recognise him as he truly is, the fullness of God in human form (Col. 2:9).

Beyond Jesus' pop-culture reputation, how often does our own knowledge of Jesus keep us from recognising him? Over the last 15 or so years, for example, I've learned much about God through books, teachers and other means. I've studied theology, worked in various Christian settings and even led a worship band! Surely I should know a thing or two about Jesus. Surely, also, people who have been Christians all their lives should be Jesus experts. 

However, I remain only a beginner in my discipleship. Although academic knowledge and even work experience are valuable, they are not essential to faith. An atheist can earn a theology degree, and some of those who most strongly persecuted Jesus were worship leaders. Rather, what is essential is a living relationship with God through faith. 

To be clear, I am not saying education is unimportant. But my credentials can tempt me to think I have Jesus mastered, thus blinding me to deeper truths about him. 

Overfamiliarity can blind us from recognising God's presence in other people

The Nazarenes reject Jesus because they fail to see beyond his reputation. Perhaps they wonder how a tradesperson can be so educated. Maybe there has been a slur on this young man born of an unmarried woman. 

How often do I limit people because of assumptions based on their appearance or reputation? Among people I know well, how often do I fail to see God's presence in their lives because I think I already have them figured out? 

A few years ago, I worked as a youth worker on a team. Our focus was often on what we could give to the youth, such as our time, energy, practical resources and teaching. Although this was necessary, I wonder what our ministry would have been like if we had also asked, 'What ministry do the youths have to offer us?' Surely, in addition to calling us to serve them, God was calling them to serve the church and wider community. Whenever we did consider their calling and service to God, I believe we rightly recognised Christ's presence in their lives.

What if I approached people the way I approach my sugar snap peas, always looking out for another pod hiding among the vines rather than assuming there are no more?

Faith often comes before miracles

Jesus can do no miracles in Nazareth because of their lack of faith. Does this mean God is limited by human problems? I don't think so; God can do anything. Yet there is a connection throughout the Gospel of Mark between faith and healing. I think this means God wants our participation in his healing us. God will not force himself on us if we don't want to cooperate. 

I sometimes think that if only God did more miracles today, many more people would believe in him. However, God performed the most miraculous sign when he became a human in Jesus, who himself did many miracles--yet even then people rejected and crucified him. It was only those who believed in him who recognised his true identity and received the benefits of acknowledging that identity (see John 1:12-13). 

Thus, perhaps in addition to praying for miracles, we must pray for faith for ourselves and others, so that we may be open to his miracles and able to recognise them when they come. 

The ultimate miracle Jesus wants to do is transform us in his likeness. As St Athanasius said, 'God became man so that man could become God' (that is, to become Christlike; here 'man' means all humanity, male and female). We believe this will happen on the last day when Christ appears a second time, clothing us with glorified bodies resembling his own (1 Cor. 15:42-49). 

But this transformation can begin now. When we ask Jesus in faith to heal our inner person, he continually restores our vision so we may understand more clearly who he is, and see through other people's appearances and reputations to recognise them as bearers of God's image.

A friend was recently visiting and looking around our garden. When he came to the sugar snap peas, I told him several pods were hiding in the thicket. He didn't believe me at first; all he could see were green vines, leaves and shadows. I insisted, saying I could see at least two from where I was standing. Fortunately, unlike those in Jesus' hometown, my friend had enough faith to search more carefully until he found a pod--and when he did, he was amazed!

The healing of Nineveh

On social media and even in the news recently, some people have been asking, what would the prophets say to us today?

I'm not a prophet, but I think one message the prophets would give is the same as they have always given, crystallised in these words by Jesus: 'Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near' (Matt. 4:17).

Repentance is illustrated in the painting below, depicting the repentance of Nineveh:

The Repentance of Nineveh

After the prophet Jonah proclaims God's judgement on the violent city of Nineveh, the Ninevites immediately repent: they believe God, fast, mourn, turn from their evil and call on God. As a result, God spares them from destruction, healing their land (see Jonah 3).

We can see ourselves in various characters in the book of Jonah: some of us are like Jonah, urged by God to accept his concern even for those who do evil, longing for their repentance and salvation. Some of us are like the vine (Jonah 4:6), called by God to sacrificially give of ourselves that others may know God's mercy.

Most surprisingly, though, we are like the Ninevites, citizens of violent nations facing the coming judgement of God. 

Like the Ninevites, to us the prophetic call of repentance returns, giving us the chance to daily turn from our evil--not just the evil of others, but even my own--so that we may receive God's mercy and healing.

The kingdom of heaven is near, so let's become citizens of that greatest nation (Phil. 3:20).

I end this post with a song based on the book of Jonah, told from the perspective of the vine.

Does God hate our worship?

Iona Abbey Church

In recent weeks, lockdown measures have been loosening so that churches in various countries have been returning to worship. Here in the UK, churches can gather again starting this weekend.

Aside from the caution needed to protect people in services, among my first thoughts is that this must be a good thing. The last time most Christians worshipped together was in Lent, so we missed celebrating Christ's Resurrection together (along with other holy days, like Ascension and Pentecost). We have a lot to catch up on! 

But my next thought is, what if God has a different response? This may sound strange, but what if God has been glad the church hasn't gathered these past few months? What if God actually despises our worship?

This idea comes from God's word through the prophet Amos to Israel:

I hate, I reject your feast days.

I do not accept your sacred assemblies.

Though you offer me burnt offerings and meat offerings,

I will not accept them.

I will not regard your fatted peace offerings.

Take away from me the sound of your songs,

for I will not hear your musical instruments.

Instead, let justice run swiftly as water does from the mountain,

and let righteousness be as a stream that cannot be crossed.

Amos 5:21-24

Why does God hate Israel's worship? It's not because God doesn't care whether or how they worship him; worshipping God rightly is the purpose for which God delivered Israel from slavery in Egypt (see Ex. 3:12, 4:22-23, 25-40). 

Rather, God rejects Israel's worship because it is untrue. In their relationships and daily life, Israel has overturned justice and righteousness, following their evil passions instead. Thus, while outwardly they appear to worship God, inwardly they are serving only themselves.

Amos lists some of their actions: they betray the upright and abuse their power against others (2:6-7); they hoard up wealth and trample on the needy (3:10, 4:1); they hate those who speak the truth and they accept bribes (5:10, 12). 

In every setting, from the public courts (5:12b) to their private lives (2:7b), Israel has rejected God's commands. Thus, their worship is empty and God shuts his ears.

The past few months have reminded us of some ways our societies have similarly overturned justice and righteousness. The coronavirus and recent protests have highlighted again the injustice and cruelty that characterise our relationships. 

Getting to the heart of the matter: 'Sin is crouching at your door'

Where does this injustice and cruelty come from? This question resembles one St James asks in his letter: 'What causes fights and quarrels among you?' (4:1). 

He answers that our turmoil comes from our desires, which cause us to kill when we don't get our way. Then he warns that 'friendship with the world is hatred towards God' (4:4).

In other words, our love of the world--that is, the passions such as greed, lust and pride--is the cause of our injustice and unrighteousness. (I describe the passions in last week's blog post; they refer to uncontrolled desires.) 

The story of Cain and Abel illustrates the relationship between the passions and violence. Cain and Abel, the first children of Adam and Eve, offer their work to God in worship: Cain brings some of the fruits of the soil, and Abel brings portions from some of his flock. God looks favourably on Abel's worship but not on Cain's. This angers Cain, who then murders his brother (Gen. 4:2b-8).

God rejects Cain's worship, according to Church tradition, because Cain has been led by his passions (see 1 John 3:12 and Jude 11). Although it is right for Cain to offer the fruits of his work to God, his heart is not right. His passions are stirred when he compares himself to Abel, and these passions drive Cain to murder.

But before Cain kills Abel, God says he has a way out: 'If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it' (Gen. 4:7).

In other words, Cain has the chance to overcome his passions so that he may avoid murder and so that his worship may become acceptable to God. 

How can Cain--and we--overcome our passions?

If I were a monk, experienced in rigourous self-examination and asceticism, perhaps I could answer this question well. I am not. However, I am a Christian (or at least I strive to be one), so I do know this, something I believe a monk would tell you too: mastering our passions begins and continues with repentance. 

St James puts it like this: 'Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up' (4:10).

Humility is the language God listens to; the sacrifice God accepts is a broken and contrite heart (Ps. 50:17). 

Jesus illustrates humility through his parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:9-14), in which again we see two people coming before God in worship: one a religious leader and the other a tax collector (what we might today call a 'loan shark'). The religious leader prays to himself, thanking God for his pious works and upright life, grateful he is not like that tax collector standing at a distance. The tax collector lowers himself before God and begs for God's mercy on his sinful life. 

God rejects the religious leader's prayer. Despite his outward appearance, the religious leader heart is full of pride. God accepts the tax collector's offering because he has humbled himself. 

So, does God hate our worship? 

I can't answer that question. But speaking for myself, I also can't assume God accepts my worship just because he is loving. God is also holy, and his justice requires me to live in accordance with his ways. 

I recognise in myself the same envy of Cain and the same pride of the Pharisee. How often do I follow my passions more than following Christ? How often am I tempted to seek my own security rather than the kingdom of God and his righteousness?

My only hope--our only hope--is in turning and returning to Christ, the One who mastered sin for all on the cross. May God have mercy on us and make us more like his Son, that we may overcome the evil in us with his help and so that justice and righteousness become foundations for our worship.