Are we signs of the kingdom of God?

A nearby tree begining to turn

Across from our house, sycamore, oak and maple trees are turning yellow and gold: the clear sign that autumn is here and more change is coming. 

It reminds me of the spectacular change of seasons I witnessed when I lived in Indiana, each autumn observing birch, oak, ginkgo bilboa and other trees turning brilliant red, orange and yellow. When I moved from Indiana to a tiny island off the west coast of Scotland, it took me two months to realise why the setting felt so different: Iona has very few trees -- a few dozen, mostly clustered in the village. Without trees, it was more difficult to mark the passing of time and the changing of the seasons.

Like deciduous trees, key people in history have served as signposts of change. In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus teaches a crowd, 'This is a wicked generation. It asks for a miraculous sign, but none will be given it except the sign of Jonah. For as Jonah was a sign to the Ninevites, so also will the Son of Man be to this generation' (11:29-30).

Like trees in autumn pointing to change, Jonah was a sign announcing the coming judgement of God: in forty days, God was going to destroy Nineveh for their evil and violence. But the Ninevites humbled themselves and turned from their evil ways, and in response, God showed them mercy. 

As I have written before, God's judgement can be either destructive or life-giving, depending on how one is judged. In the case of the Ninevites, God's judgement was life-giving because they turned from their evil. 

Beyond being a sign of God's judgement, Jonah was a sign of God's coming kingdom. As Jesus says elsewhere, Jonah's spending three days and three nights in the belly of the fish foreshadows Jesus' spending three days in the heart of the earth before rising to life, winning the decisive battle against evil and granting the world entrance into God's kingdom. Jonah was thus a sign of God's kingdom because he was a sign of Jesus, that kingdom's King.

What about us? Are we signs of God's kingdom and of Jesus? What about our communities, whether our churches or towns, the companies we work for or even our nations? Like trees in autumn expressing the change to come, do we anticipate and reflect the second appearing of Christ, the coming day of God's judgement? Are we transparent to the light of the heavenly kingdom shining through us?

Let me give a few examples. This week is Anti-Slavery Week, ending on Anti-Slavery Day on 18th October. I first learned about modern slavery in university, when for a political science course I read Gary Haugen's Terrify No More. The book describes the International Justice Mission's work of partnering with law enforcement officers and holding traffickers accountable through the legal systems of each of the countries where they work, and delivering people enslaved in trafficking. I am proud of my university's own involvement in supporting vulnerable people, such as through its Beauty for Ashes Scholarship Fund, which helps survivors of human trafficking pursue a college education.

In the UK, over a dozen organisations are dedicated to supporting victims of modern slavery. Many such groups describe their motivation as being not only compassion for the specific people they support, but also their vision of a world in which slavery does not exist, where people do not exploit the weak for economic gain, where all can live up to their full God-given potential. Although not all of these organisations are Christian, they reflect God's kingdom to the extent that they offer a glimpse of God's justice over evil and mercy for the lowly. 

A more personal example: I was recently participating in a Christian worship service. In the midst of the singing and praying, I sensed that we were being transported to heaven, joining the worship that is taking place there (as I have written about briefly before). 

I share this only because this is the best personal example I can give of what I'm saying: the Church is called to be a sign of the kingdom of heaven, to be a community where, in its worship, people ascend to heaven, resulting in the transformation of everything they do 'down here' on earth. 

As theologian Alexander Schmemann writes of Christian worship,

The Eucharist is the anaphora, the 'lifting up' of our offering, and of ourselves. It is the ascension of the Church to heaven. 'But what do I care about heaven,' says St. John Chrysostom, 'when I myself have become heaven. . . ?' (For the Life of the World)

Although that specific worship service has ended, my brief experience has remained with me, renewing my spiritual vision to recgonise that 'the whole earth is filled with God's glory'. Although I already knew this to be true, I needed that experience in worship to remind me and to transform my vision again.

In her song 'Kingdom Comes', Sara Groves expresses other ways we let the kingdom shine through our lives:

When fear engulfs your mind
Says you protect your own
You still extend your hand
You open up your home

When sorrow fills your life
When in your grief and pain
You choose again to rise
You choose to bless the Name

That's a little stone, that's a little mortar
That's a little seed, that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and daughters

This kingdom's coming

Schmemann has written (in his book Church, World, Mission) that most of Western society, especially the Church, has lost its orientation and rootedness in the ever-coming and already present kingdom of God. Instead of opening ourselves and our communities to being transformed into workers of God's kingdom, we have pursued our own agendas, seeking to transform the world based on our dreams of how it should be, apart from God and his power. Instead of being a people 'in, but not of, this world', we have remained both in and of this world, giving little thought or reference to the heavenly dimension.

Rather than trusting that Jesus will come again to unite heaven and earth, we can fall into the trap of thinking the task is entirely up to us. 

Like deciduous trees changing colour as a sign of the coming change, our work remains for us to be for our generation what Jonah was for his: a sign of the kingdom of God. We do this by proclaiming through our lives, both to ourselves and to the whole world, the message of Jesus: 'Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.'

Come, Lord Jesus!

Accepting the present

A man of understanding sets his face before wisdom,
but the eyes of a fool are on the ends of the earth.
Proverbs 17:24

Looking ahead towards the Cumbrian Mountains

 

Often when I am working on the computer, I find myself remembering past seasons of my life. These feelings of nostalgia were especially strong during lockdown (as I wrote in a previous blog post). Perhaps since we weren't allowed to leave our homes, my mind became even more itchy for retreating into the past.

My father-in-law says the same thing happens to him when he is working long hours in the garden: memories resurface, seemingly from nowhere and for no apparent reason.

I am sure, to a degree, there is good reason for this. Metropolitan Anthony Bloom has written of elderly people that the past often haunts them, teaching them of some unresolved conflict they must make peace with: someone they wronged years ago, perhaps, or someone they need to forgive. 

But there is harm in dwelling too much on the past. I have sometimes caught myself living in the past -- on an ongoing basis, believing that a part of me still lives in a chapter of life that has already ended, preventing me from being fully present in the season I am living in now.

Differing greatly in degree, the strongest biblical example I can think of is when Israel is held captive in Babylonian exile. They long to return to their home, but the prophet Jeremiah tells them they must build houses, plant gardens, marry and have children (in other words, settle down) and seek the peace and prosperity of Babylon. Only after seventy years of living in exile will God return them to their home. Thus, they have to fully accept their present circumstances and make the best of their life in a foreign land; this, surprisingly, is what God intends for them.

Living in the past -- or anywhere other than our current setting -- can prevent us from living the life God has given us now. The Gospel of Luke tells us about a certain person who has the opportunity to follow Jesus, but then the person says, 'first let me go back and say good-by to my family'. 

Jesus replies, 'No one who puts his hand to the plough and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God' (Luke 9:61-62).

How often do my nostalgia or even dreams for the future distract me from the work God has for me here and now?

I think about the coronavirus pandemic, and how people say we have to 'adjust to a new normal' -- except this new normal remains unstable and uncertain, making it difficult to adjust to anything! Like the Israelites in Babylon, I long to return to the relative stability of the past, but there is no guarantee of that happening soon, if ever. 

But it is in these very circumstances that God is still at work, calling us to participate with him. I am not suggesting that God caused COVID-19; whether he did or didn't is beyond my understanding. I am also not saying we should surrender to our challenges. What I am saying is that God's kingdom is coming into the world even in the midst of our current crises, and perhaps we need to first accept our new situation before we can recognise God's activity in our midst and then participate with it.  

As essential as remembering the past is, and as important as planning for the future is, we can only receive the life Jesus gives us here, in the present, and it is only now -- every new day he gifts us with -- that we have the opportunity to again turn and follow Jesus, 'for the kingdom of heaven is at hand': even here, even today.

What is our evidence that God loves us?

 

Photo credit: Sarah S.

As I wrote three weeks ago, this Sunday our local church is celebrating the harvest. Traditionally, for the Harvest Festival people bring vegetables (usually gourds and marrows) to church, along with tinned food to be given to food banks. Last year in a different church, someone brought a large sack of hundreds of carrots from a local (Lancashire) farm to share with others.

The photos above are from Miriam and my wedding in 2016 (the anniversary of which we celebrated last week). One of Miriam's aunts arranged the vegetables from Miriam's dad's garden and polytunnel, and the church kept them there for the Harvest Festival, which occurred the next day.

The festival is an opportunity to give thanks for the gifts God has provided us, particularly the fruit of the soil. I am reminded of the tone of thanksgiving in Psalm 104: 

The earth shall be satisfied with the fruit of Your works.
You are He who causes grass to grow for the cattle,
And the green plant for the service of man,
To bring forth bread from the earth;
And wine gladdens the heart of man,
To brighten his face with oil;
And bread strengthens man's heart (vv. 13b-15).

We often show our love to people by giving them gifts, particularly food. People often invite other people round for hot drinks or a meal as a form of hospitality. During bereavements, people often cook a meal for the family grieving not only for practical aid, but also as a sign of support. Our neighbour recently gave us a large bowlful of Braeburn applies from her fully-laden tree, and we appreciated the gift and the bond it has strengthened. 

A friend recently described to me his crop of courgettes as blessings. It struck me to read his words because I don't always consider vegetables as gifts from God, but this time of year especially reminds me to give thanks where it is due.

Most importantly, the harvest points to the greatest blessing God has given humanity and the world: his Son Jesus.

As the Apostle John writes, 'This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him' (1 John 4:9). 

We often rightly consider how we humans might offer sacrifices to God, but in Jesus we find unexpectedly that God also offers a sacrifice to us. This sacrifice is himself a gift of food, the 'living bread that comes down from heaven,' as Jesus says of himself: 'This bread is my flesh, which I give for the life of the world' (John 6:51). 

Whereas we offer sacrifices of praise, thanksgiving and service to God to give worship where it is due, God the Father does not give us his Son to worship us, but rather so that we might receive eternal life and know his love for us.

However, we often first look elsewhere for evidence of God's love. During harvest season, it might be easy to look to the beauty and bounty of nature and say this is all we need to know God's love. Although we rightly give thanks for God's providing everything we need, the natural world is not always pleasant or nourishing. In it we also find decay, death and the limits of our control. It can be easy to 'feel' God's love on a sunny, early-autumnal day, for instance, but when we're exposed to driving wind and rain on the fells in winter, God's love is far from our minds. Further, the natural world, without Jesus, does not give us hope for union with a loving God beyond our death. Without that hope, what certainty do we have that God loves us?

Or, we might look for evidence of God's love in other people or in ourselves. However, like the previous example, this can cut both ways; even the people we look up to the most can disappoint us because no one can love as perfectly as God loves, and if I am honest with myself, even in my better days I am only a disfigured reflection of God's love (if even that), and in my worse days, I am far worse than that, to say the least!

In this case, we might say that the limited warmth we have experienced from other people can be a springboard or a foil, teaching us that God's love far exceeds the flawed love of humans. As true as I believe this to be, and as helpful as the comparison may be at times, it is not sufficient or objective evidence of God's love for us. Perhaps it proves more our ability to trust in the goodness of God than it proves his goodness itself. 

I'm not saying God doesn't express his love for us through providing for our needs or through other people. Rather, such gifts reflect the love he has fully revealed to us in Jesus, who became a part of the natural world and transformed it, and who transforms even us so that we may experience his everlasting life. He is the best assurance we have of God's love for us because in him, we receive life that we can receive no other way.

Jesus is a heavenly meal, one that far exceeds the annual harvest that is cooked and gone in a short time. Jesus explains that 'whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day' (John 6:54). The Church has from the beginning understood Jesus to be referring here to the Eucharist, or the thanksgiving meal that he introduced to his disciples, which the early Church participated in regularly and has continued doing through the centuries, a mystical feast through which Christ makes himself known to the Church.

The Church has also consistently fed on the presence of Jesus through prayer, learning from the apostles' teaching and the scriptures, sharing with one another and supporting people in need (Acts 2:42-47). 

If I want to know the love of God more closely, then, it would be wise to participate in the life of the Church, as it participates in the life of Jesus.

I have been blessed to have been a part of churches that live in love for God and for their neighbours, but even then, no church community perfectly follows Jesus. They can even do the opposite, harming people rather than being vehicles for divine healing. 

However, the Church is the bride of Christ, the beloved people entrusted with the Gospel message of God's love for the world in Jesus. Despite its failings, the Church is the community upon which the Holy Spirit was poured out on the day of Pentecost (Acts 2), empowering it to faithfully display God's love through God's power. The Church is the people called to embody and proclaim the love of God in Christ to the world.

God can use anyone, even those outside of the Church, to reveal his glory and love. Thus, we cannot say where God is not present. However, we can confidently say that Jesus makes himself known among the Church, the people who gather in his name and who walk in his light, who have been washed in his death and who receive the life of his resurrection.

Further, while our own individual walk with Christ is required, our participation with the Church is also essential because it is among the Church that we receive the fullness of the heavenly banquet at Christ's table, which strengthens us to serve God wherever we go in the world afterwards. As I have written previously, we cannot have Christ without the Church.

When I was a freshman at university, I took an introductory philosophy course. Although in retrospect I appreciate the new ideas I learned through the course, at the time I became confused, doubting not only the love of God but even his existence -- and even the nature of reality itself! 

That same semester, I began attending a church that would become my spiritual home for the next few years. I told my pastor some of my questions, and he said he could relate to them. He also encouraged me to keep coming to church and being involved there. 

At the time, I thought his reason for this advice was because of how important practice and discipline are despite our changing thoughts, feelings and moods; sometimes we have to carry on living as though we believe what we have believed in, until we believe again.

That can be true -- but again, it is not evidence that our beliefs are true. In light of the Apostle John's words, however, I also see in my pastor's advice the recognition that participating in the life of the Church is essential, especially when we feel far from God, because it is among the Church and the Church's work in the world that we expect to clearly encounter Christ, in whom we most assuredly know God's love for us.

Stages of development in discipleship

Recently, to my surprise, the runner beans have been flowering a second time since planting them. Now tiny bean pods the size of young earthworms are emerging from the scarlet flowers. 

It's rewarding to witness their development again; this time around, I am noticing more of the details. Flowers are forming, around which flies and bees hover to pollinate them, after which the petals wither and fall away as bean pods grow out of them like claws. These claws then swell with beans (seeds for new plants) until they are ready for plucking; harvesting them before they reach maturity enables the flowering to continue next time. 

Like runner beans, Christian discipleship involves stages of development, as described by the Apostle Peter. First he writes that through God's power, we may escape the evil nature of this world -- the passions -- and participate in the divine nature; in other words, we may become Christlike. Then he describes how we become Christlike in more detail, urging his readers to make every effort to 'add to your faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, to knowledge self-control, to self-control perseverance, to perseverance godliness, to godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness love' (2 Pet. 1:5-7).

Overall, then, our development as Christians involves faith bearing the fruit of love. Putting our faith in Christ -- that is, committing ourselves to Jesus as our Lord and our God -- is only the beginning of the journey. The next step involves diligently adding more elements to our faith so that we may mature. This effort is not an attempt to earn our salvation apart from God's grace; rather, everything we need to accomplish this comes from God's divine power, with which we participate (vv. 3-4).

Here I offer my reflections on each stage of development in discipleship.

• 'Giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue' -- Virtue sets the tone for our faith, directing it to produce something life-giving, wholesome, beautiful; in a word, good. Goodness is one way the word 'virtue' can be understood, the same goodness with which God looked upon his creation in the beginning and was satisfied by what he had made.
  
  Another way to understand 'virtue' is as moral excellence. We are called to strive for excellence in our relationships with God and others, and in maintaining our own integrity. This means becoming pure in heart, single-minded for God's kingdom and righteousness.
  
  
• 'and to virtue, knowledge' -- Knowledge helps us discern between good and evil and thus supplements our virtue. Becoming virtuous is not guided merely by our feelings or emotions; it requires knowledge of the truth about God, the world, others and ourselves.
  
  This knowledge is not merely book knowledge (although that can help), but especially applied personal and spiritual knowledge. For example, yesterday was Miriam and my wedding anniversary. I have been reflecting recently on how much better I know her now than I did four years ago when we first married, and this knowledge comes from the experience of my relationship with her; it could not have come only from reading facts about her. In order to learn about her in this way, my active participation and observation are required, and I will always have more to learn about her. Further, learning more about her and my relationship with her has taught me more about myself as well.
  
  
• 'and to knowledge, self-control' -- As we come to know God and ourselves more truthfully, we recognise especially our own passions and sinful habits. This teaches us when to pull away, limit ourselves and keep from stepping over the line ('trespassing') into sin. Christlikeness is not only moving towards someone, Christ, but also moving away from something, our sinful nature. Self-control means mastering ourselves so that we may not sin and so that Christ's character may form in us.
  
  For an example of the relationship between knowledge and self-control, I have a skin condition that flares up when I eat certain foods. By carefully monitoring what I eat and how it affects my skin (knowledge), I can know what foods to limit myself from eating too much of or to avoid eating altogether (self-control). Perhaps our soul is similarly impacted by the passions, and by paying attention to our internal reactions, we can learn how to control our desires to avoid damaging ourselves and others.
  
  
• 'and to self-control, perseverance' -- It's easy to overcome temptation once in our life, or at least far easier than to consistently do so. This relates to my previous dietary example; it's one thing to avoid eating a piece of chocolate cake once, but to commit to doing so for the rest of my life requires greater strength. Thus we need perseverance to maintain our discipleship for the long-haul.
  
  We recently climbed a mountain (Bow Fell, in case you're wondering, among the Cumbrian Mountains) and as we started off, I realised that I would enjoy the ascent much better by focussing on taking small but steady steps. That way, too, I would not tire myself out in my rush to climb the mountain. 
  
  Thus, perseverance requires a commitment to see things through and wisdom to pace oneself, taking on only as much as we know we can handle until we know we can take on more. Again this connects between knowledge, self-control and perseverance: without knowledge of our abilities and limitations, and without the self-control to discipline ourselves, we cannot achieve the sustainable pace required for perseverance.
  
  
• 'and to perseverance, godliness' -- Godliness begins with our devoted relationship to God. As we persevere in our transformation, we don't become stoic and cold-hearted; we become holy, glowing with the love of God. 
  
  When I consider godly people I've met, I am struck by the warmth of their love, even upon meeting them for the first time, which must come from a life hidden in God.
  
  This, I imagine, is what inspired the woman with a sinful reputation to wash Jesus' feet with her tears. Without a word, she knew that Jesus loved her and this moved her to pour out her own love to him in thanksgiving. In this act of love, she found healing (see Luke 7:36-50).
  
  
• 'and to godliness, brotherly kindness' -- Brotherly kindness develops from godliness, which itself develops from the previous stages. Thus, we have seen explicitly the link between faith (the first stage) and love for others (here in the last stages). Although this link is spoken about throughout the scriptures, here we learn that there are several stages in-between (virtue, knowledge, self-control, perseverance and godliness). This suggests that genuine compassion for others doesn't develop overnight; we can't expect compassion to emerge simply by forcing a smile or making a one-off donation to charity. Rather, such compassion comes through the slow formation of our character, involving our effort in partnership with God's power to help us.
  
  
• 'and to brotherly kindness, love.' -- Love is the crown of our discipleship. This love is a union between our love for God, our love for others and God's love for us. This love is not sentimental, fickle, wavering or romantic; rather, it is faithful, virtuous, insightful, self-controlled, persevering, godly and compassionate. 
  
  This is the nature of God's love for us in Christ, shown by his steadfast concern for the human race and the world. As we grow towards embodying this love, we become who God intends us to be. God is love and we cannot know God without love.
  

I don't claim to have arrived at this level of maturity in love. I write about it like someone standing at the bottom of a mountain, describing what I see of the summit above me with my naked eyes and as it looks on a map.

Where am I in these stages of discipleship? I can't say, but I wonder if one can be at multiple stages at the same time, like how a single runner bean plant can have several clusters of flowers blooming at different stages in different areas: some just beginning to bud, some flowers fully open and being pollinated by flies and bees and some beans emerging to the glory of God. 

Like the perennial runner bean, maybe we can always grow deeper in each of these eight stages, developing from one to the next in a process that will only find its fulfilment when at last Christ is revealed.

Courgettes and greatness

'Courgette' is the French name, used in the UK, for 'zucchini'

For the past two months, we have been enjoying the steady growth of our courgettes (a kind of squash in the gourd family). However, we've been harvesting them as soon as they are about four to six inches long, rather than waiting until they grow larger to become marrows. The main reason for this is that many of our young courgettes have rotted, so we pluck them as soon as they are ready. 

Apparently there are many possible causes for the withering of young courgettes. In our case, the most likely reason is poor drainage or too much rain, each of which disturb the root development.

A similar challenge involving a gourd plant occurred for the prophet Jonah. While sitting on the outskirts of the city of Nineveh, a gourd plant grew beside him, shading him from the heat. (Who knows? It could have been a courgette.) But the next morning, a worm devoured the plant, and when Jonah discovered this, he became angry. This led to a conversation with God in which God explained that, just as Jonah cared for the gourd, so God cared for the people of Nineveh.

As the capital of the Assyrian Empire, the Ninevites had a reputation for doing evil and violence. But God saw their value beneath their evil, giving them a chance to humbly repent and become holy. Nineveh was like the gourd plant, planted to provide shade and comfort to others, but just as the worm devoured the gourd, Nineveh's evil was leading to its own demise. 

Thus, God sends Jonah to preach against Nineveh's sins, in the hope that they will turn to God. The plan works. As soon as they hear Jonah's preaching, all the people of Nineveh, from the greatest to the least, declare a fast and wear garments of mourning. Even the king leaves his throne to sit upon ashes. Most importantly, they resolve to cease committing evil and violence, and they turn to God. This results in God having mercy on them and sparing them from destruction. At the end of the book, God tells Jonah Nineveh is a 'great city' because in it dwell thousands of people in need of guidance (they 'do not know either their right hand or their left'), and much livestock. 

Nineveh can resemble any nation, group or individual with both great power and great evil. I have been thinking about Nineveh because of a recent conversation I had with someone about my being an American living in the UK. He asked me, 'What good has come out of America?' I could almost hear beneath that question a resemblance to Jonah's question about Nineveh: is this nation worth God's mercy?

This may sound like a strange question, but it is relevant, especially in a time when most of the news people in the UK hear about the US is terrible: mass shootings, police brutality, violent protests and sexual abuse -- just to name a few examples. 

I said I could answer their question on several levels, but ultimately the good that I have seen in America comes from things one doesn't read about in the news: people I know who love their neighbours as themselves, people who 'act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with [their] God'. Throughout the many places I've lived and travelled in the US, I have met families and communities that welcome strangers and support those in need with mercy and compassion.

Where does this greatness in mercy come from? I believe it begins with repentance, just as the Ninevites' greatness was restored through their repentance. To illustrate, a friend on Facebook recently posted a picture of a family kneeling in prayer in their sitting room. The caption of the picture said something like 'This is how America becomes great again'. 

Someone commented in opposition, saying what's needed is not prayer, but that people should live as Jesus lived. I understand the reasoning behind this response; prayer alone is meaningless if we don't live in obedience to God's commands, seeking justice for those who are wronged and supporting the most vulnerable in our midst. Jesus spoke against those who flaunted their spiritual resources and yet did not show mercy to people in need. 

But Jesus also prayed regularly and taught his disciples to pray, and he marked the beginning of his public ministry by fasting and praying in the wilderness for forty days. Prayer was foundational, and thus essential, to his work of teaching, healing and liberating people from evil. Jesus is even now praying on our behalf before the heavenly throne, as it says in the book of Hebrews. 

Not only that; prayer is putting ourselves in a posture of humility before God. Every time we come before God in humility, we are repenting to some degree, since repentance is turning away from ourselves and turning to God. 

Without such ongoing repentance, we become like courgettes rotting from poor soil conditions. But when we turn from the evil and violence that are in each of us and turn instead to God, then with God's help we will destroy the worm that eats away at us, and God's healing will come. 

God has created all people for greatness. But this greatness does not come from doing violence or following our passions, which destroy us in the end; rather, it begins with humbling ourselves before God so that we may receive mercy, which leads to a life empowered by God in joyful service to others. This is true greatness.

As Jesus said, 'Whoever humbles himself will be exalted'. He is our leader in this, as he humbled himself even to death, and was raised by God as the victor over death and evil. He grants all who follow him the power to crush the sin that devours us, recovering our identity as children of God and granting us citizenship into the kingdom of heaven.