Nelson and Brexit

Inevitably on such a momentous day as Brexit Day the mind turned to Anniversaries.

If you are of a Brexiteer mindset the gift to Brexit Day appeared to lie in the very heart of London.  For January 31st was the anniversary of the unveiling of Nelson'e column (1867) in Trafalgar Square.  

And what greater affirmation of Britain's independence from - and hostility to - European domination could Brexit Day want than that?

Nelson's story is a lot more complicated than that though.  It illustrates why it is hopeless to deal with issues like Brexit in a binary way.

Here is one of his later life signatures, and following his appointment as a Duke in Italy he proudly added Bronte - he was Duke of Bronte - to his signature until the day he died.

Europe, for Nelson, was a mixture of good and bad; sometimes an enemy, sometimes a friend - both his proud boast in Naples and his personal nemesis at Trafalgar.

For every Christian this world is always something like that.  As 'strangers in the world' and citizens of another (heavenly) country the journey here is filled with good and bad.  Our Lord was feted at feasts and crucified at Calvary, listened to by crowds and disobeyed by close disciples.

No delight or disaster in this world is of the depth of being rightly or wrongly positioned for the world to come.

Good Friday

From the “Holy, Holy, Holy, we adore Thee, O most High,”

Down to earth’s blaspheming voices and the shout of “Crucify.”

Good Friday defies metaphor or analogy.  

For all other human beings the glory of heaven is a future hope, scraping in through a mustard seed of faith a prospect beyond imagining that makes every earthly day a day of waiting and watching.

But for Him?

Heaven has loud voices.  No God so great, so totally, angel-mind-blowingly wonderful could be worshipped merely with a dignified silence or a quivering lip.  Shouts and trumpets, cries and echoes must have their place in the perfect song and the glorious sinless assembly.  This was his home.

But now this.

The savagery of soldiery, the clever mockings by the temple elite, the baying of the thoughtless crowd of copycats.

What did he do to deserve this?

No.  What did I do to deserve this.  What did he suffer that I deserved?

Happy Ascension Day!

I suppose it is understandable that there is a very limited celebration of Ascension.  Our minds are so earthbound that the thought of God joining us down here (Christmas) gives us a buzz that one of us (Jesus) joining the Godhead's throne up there doesn't give.

Given our earthliness it is typical that one of the old English customs that survives from Ascension Day (though often carried out on another date these days) is the beating of the bounds.  By this custom the margins of each parish were marked and noted.  Though in time blessings from above were also invocated it seems very weird that the movement of the Son of God from earth to heaven should be accompanied by the earth people marking out their plots of earth.

Anyway the clue is in the ascending, the significance of which is not where heaven is but that Christ is no longer on earth in the flesh.  Humanity has another home.  Instead of beating the bounds, Jesus has broken the bounds for us.

A Christian's Story

What would you write if you knew you were about to die?  David Bowie recorded a song: a Christian friend of one of my friends wrote this on her IPad:

If this is being read in public domain that means I have passed from this life and entered into eternity- into the presence of the Almighty God- the maker of Heaven and of earth. WOW... Hold on- a human, a mortal can stand and not only stand but live in the presence of this Almighty Lord?! Yes. My life on earth has been leading up to this point- the point where I see His Glory! Where I meet my precious Saviour who died for me before I had been born and while I was still in my sin. The Lord, when he formed me in my mother's womb, knit together my body, chose my eye colour, my personality, gave me talents and knew ALL about me, even what would make me laugh (all unknown to my earthly parents)... He also knew my whole life, he knew each day I would be breathing oxygen in my lungs, he knew every decision I would make, including whether I would choose to follow Him or not.

[...] So what then comes after? Nothing? Do you really believe that because my organs have ceased to work- that the life in me, just died too?! We are more than just flesh, than an animal... We are different and higher than a mere animal because we were granted a soul. A Soul that will live on forever. The question is- where? I believe as this is read I am in the presence of God, and it is here I will spend eternity. No pain, no sickness, no hurt, no disappointment, fully satisfied with my creator, in full joy and fullness of life. So why can I say this with confidence before I have even departed?? [...]

Here is my story... I grew up hearing of Jesus, God and going to church, I knew it all, and I do believe I made a profession of faith as a child; however I don't think I knew enough about what I had actually decided. I am thankful for my parents who instilled in me godly morals, which kept me on many occasions from doing really silly things... That being said, when I turned 18- I wanted to break free from what I thought was an oppressive upbringing.. So I rebelled...[...]

I was literally running in the opposite way from God..but as I woke up on the Friday morning after little sleep, too much alcohol and partying... Before I felt hungover or tired I felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. In his great mercy God came to me that morning and not audibly, but in my soul I heard him loving whisper 'what are you doing and where are you going?' . . .[...]

For those of you who know Jesus... I will see you on the other side. Please don't mourn for me... I am free from cancer, free from seizures and more fulfilled and happy than any moment I ever had on earth. As I write this I can't even imagine how amazing this will be, because I've had many, many wonderful times and experiences in my life! I am sure there will be days when you miss me...but please please, please don't let those moments take away from each precious moment that you have, don't let my passing cause you to stumble in your faith. Let it strengthen your faith that God IS real and HE has a purpose for you on this earth!! Enjoy each moment you have and try to keep an eternal perspective, how can you bring God more Glory?

For those of you who are suffering, I feel one of the purposes of my illness was to teach me about suffering. Firstly, no matter how bad, it will never compare to the suffering Jesus faced on the cross, being separated from that father connection, not to mention the physical suffering...because Jesus experienced that suffering He can identify with you as you struggle, so cling to Him. And Trust him no matter what. He is in control despite our lack of understanding.... Be patient, one day when on this side of eternity you will understand. . [...]

It's Missing 2. On the Brink

The Church has many reasons to be thankful for Matt Redman.  Matt has gone far past many contemporary worship lyricists in incorporating ancient words and biblical truths, some of which sit uncomfortably in the mindset of flashing lights, flashing teeth and flashing sales commercials which can substitute for true worship and togetherness.  I'm especially excited that the worship leader in our church loves this song because it is based on an amazing devotional poem by Robert Murray McCheyne.

McCheyne was younger than Matt Redman when he died and (I'm sure Matt wouldn't mind me remarking) made an even bigger impact in the terms of his day, especially in Dundee.  Like any devotional poem, not every verse should be sung.  In this poem - which is McCheyne's imagining of what he'd be grateful for when he reached glory - the second verse was included in only a few hymnbooks.  Unsurprisingly Matt (if he knew it existed) left it out of his consideration:

1. When this passing world is done,

When has sunk yon glaring sun,

When we stand with Christ in glory,

Looking o’er life’s finished story,

Then, Lord, shall I fully know—

Not till then—how much I owe.

2. When I hear the wicked call,

On the rocks and hills to fall,

When I see them start and shrink

On the fiery deluge brink,

Then, Lord, shall I fully know—

Not till then—how much I owe.

3.When I stand before the throne,

Dressed in beauty not my own,

When I see Thee as Thou art,

Love Thee with unsinning heart,

Then Lord, shall I fully know—

Not till then—how much I owe.

[continues]

There are three possible reasons to leave verse 2 out of hymnic consideration.  

The fact of hell.  That's enough for some, perhaps.  Yet if we only sing about spiritual positives we neuter those positives to an extent - verses 1 & 3 seem more worshipful to me in the light of this verse in between them.

The description of hell.  It is true that this is plucked straight from the church's tradition of horrors, though also from the words of the Lord Jesus . . .  Hell being eternal separation from God means that even the grimmest descriptors - far from exaggerating it - inevitably underplay what hell is really like.

The description of the saved.  This seems to me to be the best reason to leave the verse out.  Much as I admire McCheyne it is hard to see much Biblical justification (there is a little at a stretch) for a heavenly audience thankfully feasting on the spectacle of the lost on the brink of judgment.  I suppose that on the cross Jesus could have said to the repentant thief, referencing the unrepentant one, "You and I will be fine - wait 'til you see what happens to him".  But instead Jesus united the repentant thief to himself in paradise and the other was silently lost (as he shouted his insults) to the eternal salvation story.

If you have a life-saving hospital treatment you do not need to visit the mortuary to be any more knowledgeably grateful.

It's Missing 1. A Lost Peace

Missing things are often interesting.

Take jigsaw puzzles.  If it has a thousand pieces and, on using all that are available, one is missing then that is the one that gains all your attention.

To me this works in other things.  Not least hymns.  How many times, for example, have churchgoers sung the Wesley hymn And can it be and assumed (because it flows) that it is intact?  Well it isn't.

Including a little of the traditional verses four and then the final verse, here is the original verse 5:

. . . My chains fell off, my heart was free,

I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

Still the small inward voice I hear,

That whispers all my sins forgiven;

Still the atoning blood is near,

That quenched the wrath of hostile Heaven.

I feel the life His wounds impart;

I feel the Saviour in my heart.

No condemnation now I dread;

Jesus, and all in Him, is mine . . .

For any worship leader or organist the advantages of removing this verse are obvious.  Its personal, reflective words would rudely interrupt the grand musical transition from the victorious end of verse 4 to the equally victorious beginning of the final verse.  The musician has an ally in many a theologian.  What's all this about hostile Heaven?  How could a cuddly god be hostile toward sin?  If god loves us she/he must at least love in a small way all the stuff we do - she/he could never inhabit a hostility?  Why, we'd have to put her/him on a register if she/he wasn't careful!

But then again.  What if God really hates sin?  What if having rose up and followed thee I begin to share his loathing of it.  Then I do not just need a tuba stop or drum roll of confidence - I need a whisper.  A whisper that God and I can walk together even though he hates sin and I still at times like it rather too much.

Ghost Trains

The Baptist assembly started in London in the afternoon on Friday and this gave me the chance to travel on one of Britain's Ghost Trains.  There are only a few of us sad enough to know they exist and even fewer that ever get to travel on them - but then they are not really designed for travelling on.

The train mentioned in the linked article above is the return journey of the train I travelled on from Gerrards Cross into London Paddington.  To the uninitiated that sounds a normal enough pair of stations but in fact every other train from Gerrards Cross goes into London Marylebone.

After dutifully waiting  for more important other trains (and every other train is more important) the 10:44 sets off in the same manner as dozens of others toward London (except it has hardly any passengers).  At Ruislip it waits for ages for some more of the more important other trains before setting off onto what can only be described as a siding.  Trundling down a single track at a speed familiar to all London road users (but not train travellers) it passes selections of burgeoning weeds, crumbling viaducts, electricity substations, old trackbeds and the back of Central Line surface Underground stations with waiting passengers visibly wondering how that train gets over on that bit by the hedges.  It passes the back of factories.  At times it is joined by important-looking freight lines.  It wends its lonely way through parts of West London that forever blow the theory that London is a city crowded with buildings - there are literally acres of wasteland and this train traverses them all.

It never stops.  (This is simply because nothing else uses the line it is on.)  It also never really starts because the line is not kept in any order that allows any speed.  It feels like it is going further and further into nowhere.

Then.

Then one more green light and it passes the gleaming Heathrow Express train depot.  It kind of springs into life at more than 20 mph and soon is in the back end of bustling Paddington Station.

And off I climb and join the hoardes of people pouring in from Wales, the West Country and from via Heathrow all over the world -  people everywhere from everywhere going everywhere.  Have I really just arrived from one of the most irrelevant pieces of transport infrastructure in London?

If assembly is anything - whether on a Sunday or Churches meeting together - it is a little like that journey.  We feel quite alone.  We look at the wastelands.  We feel we are travelling nowhere with nobody.  And then - and then we are part of the people of God.

What a day it will be when from the world over the people of God gather from their journeys through the wastelands of poverty and persecution and pain.  Ghost Trains are strange things - as anything must be that takes you to Paddington Station and leaves you standing there thinking of the Throne of Jesus and his glory!

Natural Wastage

There's nothing like a Church committee as a setting for making bizarre new theology.

The Daily Telegraph carried a report on the General Synod at which a member was quoted as follows:

“The perfect storm we can see arriving fast on the horizon is the ageing congregations,” he said. “The average age is 61 now, with many congregations above that.  … 2020 apparently is when our congregations start falling through the floor because of natural wastage, that is people dying."

The Salvation Army coined the term 'promoted to glory' for its members passing through death to life everlasting (a vertical contradiction of falling through the floor).  The Apostle Paul liked the phrase fallen asleep in Jesus.  John Bunyan in Pilgrim's Progress famously described arriving in a Celestial City:

Now, while they were thus drawing towards the gate, behold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet them: to whom it was said by the other two shining ones,

"These are the men that have loved our Lord when they were in the world, and that have left all for his holy name; and he hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on their desired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy." Then the heavenly host gave a great shout, saying, “Blessed are they that are called to the marriage-supper of the Lamb.” Rev. 19:9.

There came out also at this time to meet them several of the King’s trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with melodious noises and loud, made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes from the world; and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet.

This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, and some on the left, ... And now were these two men, as it were, in heaven, before they came to it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes. Here also they had the city itself in view; and they thought they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome them thereto. But, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there with such company, and that for ever and ever; oh, by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed!

Alternatively, you can call it natural wastage . . . 

Christians would be wiser to value older people and reach them with the Good News of eternity in glory with Jesus than, "Hey, join us and soon become our natural wastage".

Spending Review

I will

In the past week I have had time with families where people have just been married and where others are celebrating anniversaries and others are facing life-threatening illness together.  In tribute to them all and in gratitude for the marriage God has given me I offer J R Miller's moving description of a precious gift mistakenly maligned.

Waiting

Waiting.

It has to be the most miserable way to live a life?  Stuck in the terminal.

We should live in this evil world with wisdom, righteousness, and devotion to God, while we look forward with hope to that wonderful day when the glory of our great God and Saviour, Jesus Christ, will be revealed.

Last evening we thought about these words.  If we only have one life in this world why do Christians waste it waiting?  What good is it to believe mainly in the future?  Why would anyone want to lay up treasures in heaven when they've never seen heaven?  Why not just live life to the full and to hell (whoops . . .) with the consequences?

The Terminal shows that just because someone is waiting, doesn't mean life is meaningless.  To the contrary, Viktor ends up with some better relationships that the people rushing past him. 

Sure, this world could be a better place to wait in.  But the fact I am waiting for Another Place does not make my life useless - just a great deal more hopeful! 

Ironed

Overheard at the Sports Centre on this morning after the Resurrection Day before:

Mildred: "Did you have a nice day yesterday?"

Mavis: "It was alright.  Just did some washing and ironing really."

This seemed a bizarre behaviour for the day that the only human being who has ever conquered death by taking his life back from the grave.  Or was it?

Looking into the empty tomb (John 20:6) Peter and John are stunned - so it appears - to see the graveclothes lying there.  Why?  Because if the body had been stolen the clothes would have gone with it.  If the thieves had left the outer burial wrappings they would have been unwound all over the floor.  But for sure in the pitch dark they would not have been reconstituted like a banana peel restored without the banana inside.

Then the headcloth.  It was entetuligmenon.  Sometimes translated folded this rather misses the point.  Like as if it had been ironed on Easter Day!  No, this  is how Lazarus's head wrapping (John 11:44) is described when Jesus resurrected him.  The headcloth, somewhat in the manner of a turban, was where it would have been and how it would have but without the head in it!

In a nutshell, John saw and believed.  He hadn't seen Jesus at all yet.  He just knew that there was no way that the body had done other then rise back to life, and in a manner that meant at once that it was the same body (the tomb was empty) but a different set of properties (the wrapping had been passed through).

Mavis seems to have missed the point about Easter Day quite disastrously.  Yet strangely, in spending the day with clothing, she was closer to the glorious reality than she could have imagined!

Gold

Once upon a time (please don't look for this story in the Bible...) there was a rich man who was very grieved because he had worked so hard for his money that he wanted to be able to take it with him to heaven. An angel heard his plea and appeared to him.

"Sorry," said the angel, "but you can't take your wealth with you."

The man begged to see if he might bend the rules. The angel reappeared and informed the man that, as a special concession, he could to take one carry-on bag with him. Overjoyed, the man gathered his bag and filled it with pure gold bars and placed it beside his bed.

He died and showed up at the gates of heaven. The angel on guard, seeing the suitcase, says,

"Hold on, you can't bring that in here!"

The man explained that he had permission and asked the angel to verify his story. Having checked out the story the angel came back and said,

"You're right. You are allowed one carry-on bag, but I'm supposed to check its contents before letting it through."

The angel opened the bag to inspect the contents that the man had found too precious to leave behind and exclaimed,

"You've brought some pavement?"

Home

Tonight at Church I quoted an amazing hymn which I have never heard sung live but which resonates with the way some of us will get to heaven.

Safe home, safe home in port!

Rent cordage, shattered deck,

Torn sails, provisions short,

And only not a wreck;

But oh! the joy upon the shore

To tell our voyage perils o’er!

The prize, the prize secure!

The athlete nearly fell;

Bare all he could endure,

And bare not always well;

But he may smile at troubles gone

Who sets the victor-garland on.

No more the foe can harm;

No more of leaguered camp,

And cry of night alarm,

And need of ready lamp;

And yet how nearly he had failed

How nearly had that foe prevailed!

The exile is at home!

O nights and days of tears,

O longings not to roam,

O sins and doubts and fears;

What matters now grief’s darkest day?

The King has wiped those tears away

I was astonished to find it even has a contemporary version on youtube! It is hard to imagine a longer journey for a hymn than from Joseph of the Studium to Monks Coffee House Music Venue in Abilene, but here we go . . .