Christians and stress (part 2)

Image by Ryan McGuire from Pixabay 

Dealing with stress

Relaxation techniques, attention to diet and exercise, time-management strategies, voluntary simplicity and community building are all valid and useful ways of reducing the stress in our lives. However, as Christians we must also deal with two underlying issues—fear and lack of focus.

Fear

So much of our busy-ness and sense of overload is due to fear; fear of failure, fear of being rejected, fear of loss, fear of illness and death, fear of losing control. Yet often we don't even recognise the fears that drive us. 

Both Christians and non-Christians may be driven by a subconscious fear of God. In the unbeliever this could even be a positive drive. In a Christian, it can only be due to an inadequate grasp of what salvation means. God may call us to be busy for him, but busy-ness can easily become our own attempt to win God's favour, if we don't understand that we are totally forgiven and accepted already. Jesus has completed that task, with nothing for us to add.

The key to overcoming all of these fears is to know what scripture says about them—really know, with our hearts as well as our heads. We can only do this by reading the bible consistently and prayerfully. Then we need to put what we have read into practice, as a conscious act of will. "God is my salvation, I WILL trust and WILL NOT be afraid, (my emphasis). 

Freedom from fear is not something we are likely to achieve in an instant.  Each time we become fearful again, we need to recognise it, ask for forgiveness and grace, then begin afresh. Other Christians are an invaluable and God-given source of encouragement in this.

Focus

Lack of focus in our lives results in us being pulled this way and that by competing demands and desires. We may have many different goals, all of them apparently good, but often quite contradictory. For instance, “I must spend more time with my family” and “I must work as hard as I can to get the promotion I deserve”. As a result we begin to feel fragmented.

Christians are not immune from this. Often we simply add a few spiritual goals to the rest rather than refocusing our lives.

Fear and lack of focus are obviously related. If I fear something (or someone) one of my goals will be to avoid or overcome the thing I fear. If I have many fears, I will have many different goals, and my mental, physical and emotional energies will be scattered in all directions. 

Jesus had focus

Jesus had only one focus in life; the kingdom of God, for the glory of God. He called his followers to be equally single-minded. "Seek first (God's) kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things (i.e. material needs) will be given you as well", (Matthew 6.33).

"Yes, but Jesus didn't have a job, or mortgage, or a family to worry about. He could afford to be single minded," we might reply. I don't think Jesus was calling us to abandon these things (though sometimes he does.) Rather, we are to look at them all in the light of the kingdom of God. 

The work we do is to contribute to building God's kingdom, whether we preach sermons, design cars or wash dishes. Our house is to be a part of God's kingdom, received with thanks, used for his service and given up if he asks that of us. Our children are to be raised for God's kingdom, not by brow-beating them, but by drawing them into it. If they choose to go another way, our focus is still to be God's kingdom. 

Our hobbies, our clothes, our friendships, our money, our possessions, our relationship with our in-laws, our health, all are to be seen in the light of God's kingdom.

When we look at Jesus' life, as described in the gospels, we can see the effects of being focused. Jesus had compassion on the crowds who followed him about, and healed many who were sick. Yet at times he would walk away from them in order to pray or teach his disciples. He was not driven by a need to be popular, or to (literally) cure all the world's ills. 

Jesus did not try to do everything himself. He taught his disciples, then sent them out in pairs to teach and heal. He shared his concerns with them. He entrusted the future church to them. He was not driven by the need to keep power to himself or to appear super-human.

Jesus had no hesitation in openly criticising or correcting those who were straying from the truth. He continued his ministry despite the growing opposition of the authorities. Fear of man did not come between him and his goal of bringing about the kingdom of God.

In prayer Jesus maintained the same focus. "Father, may your name be hallowed, may your kingdom come, may your will be done," (Matthew 6:9). The needs of the day followed on from this, not as though they were trivial, but placed in their true context. "Give us this day our daily bread." Through prayer, Jesus received the strength and direction he needed to stay focused.

Jesus certainly didn't live a gentle, stress-free life. He experienced tiredness, grief, pressure from the crowds, misunderstanding from his disciples, harassment from the religious authorities and ultimately betrayal, torture and death. Yet always he seemed to be in control, steady in his purpose and sure of where he was going. His resurrection is our assurance that in the end he reached his goal.

Being focused in this way, while it may seem difficult at first sight (and impossible without the help of the Holy Spirit) would surely enable us to simplify our lives and overcome the fragmentation we so often experience.

Perhaps that is what Jesus meant when he said "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (Matthew 11.28-30.)

(Part 1 can be found here)

Christians and stress (part 1)

(This article and the one that follows were written many years ago. I've decided to republish them here in the hope that they may be helpful to someone.)

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay 

What is stress?

In physics, "stress" can refer to the pressure applied to an object, or it can describe the internal resistance of the object itself. When people speak of being "stressed" there is a similar ambiguity. 

Stress, in the sense of an applied pressure, is not always detrimental. Stress can motivate us to begin and complete tasks. However, what most people mean by "stress" is a sense of being overwhelmed and overloaded. They feel as if their internal resistance is at breaking point.

Life has been difficult for most people throughout history. We could dismiss the view that our own lives are increasingly stressful as trendy self-pity. Yet the social and personal cost of stress is great.

What causes stress?

In simple terms, when we are threatened or in danger, our bodies produce chemicals which prepare us to put up a fight or run away - the so-called fight or flight reaction. 

When the "threat" is an irate customer, a pile of files or a whining child, neither fight nor flight is usually appropriate. So we experience the effect of these chemicals but not the relief of responding to them. What's more, we can learn to feel stressed just by thinking about stressful situations. 

Triggers of stress in our twenty-first century, western lifestyle are many, but include:

• Busy-ness. By the age of four, today's child is likely to be in constant motion, from kindergarten to kindy gym, from music lessons to child care. By the end of primary school, home might well be little more than a place to sleep.The pace is set for adult life.

Christians are certainly not immune from busy-ness, as they try to fit church commitments, bible study and prayer into their already busy lives. Dreams of escaping to a monastic life are not uncommon! Most people realise that they are "too busy", but deciding what activities to cut back is not easy.

• Technological speed. If our activities were limited to those we could carry out within walking distance of home, most of us would have much quieter lives. Our cars allow us to travel long distances in relative comfort, but contribute to our stress. Telephones, fax machines, computers and email also add to the speed of life. 

• Information overload. Most people in the past relied on word of mouth for their information. Much of it was inaccurate, but they had time to integrate what they heard into what they already knew.

Today we are bombarded with information. If we don't recognise that much of it is irrelevant or inaccurate, and learn to be selective, we can feel overloaded and guilty for not keeping up. 

Since good news doesn't sell, we are exposed to a very slanted view of the world through the media. We can become depressed about situations which have no bearing on our own lives and which we can do nothing about.

• False expectations. Many people in the post-war generation grew up believing that, with work and determination, they could be anything, do anything and have anything they chose. Real life, while being better than most previous generations could have dreamed of, is still disappointing.

In contrast, the following generations often have a sense of hopelessness about the future. The threat of nuclear weapons, pollution, social decay and a belief that life ends at death all rob their efforts of any meaning. They feel as if they are going nowhere.

• Social isolation. We may be able to communicate instantly with almost anyone in the world , but we often have little time to spend face to face with people. Many of our interactions, even with those closest to us, stay at a superficial level. Our mobility prevents us from getting to know our neighbours. As a result, when we're feeling stressed, we have few people to support us, and those who do often feel overloaded themselves.

• The burden of possessions. Compared to most of the world's people, we are materially blessed. However, every purchase we make adds an extra demand on our time to maintain it. We also have to find somewhere to keep it. The more expensive the item, the more likely we are to be anxious about it being stolen or broken.

• The shrinking of time. The smallest period of time mentioned in the bible is an hour. Now we speak blithely about athletes taking 2/100ths of a second off a record. 

People in the past viewed time as something which was created as they lived. It couldn't be "gained" or "wasted". In contrast, we see time as something with a reality of its own, already subdivided into milliseconds and waiting for us to fill it. This puts us under constant pressure to keep up with the clock. The quest for increased productivity has added to this pressure.

• Change. Our nervous systems constantly monitor the world around us. However, our brain only stays consciously alert to things which are changing. (For instance, we don't notice how our clothes feel most of the time.)

We are also unable to focus our attention on more than one thing at once. In order to stay alert to two or more things, we have to switch our attention back and forth.

If we live in an environment which is noisy and fast-moving, we place great demands on our nervous system and brain. It is not surprising that we become jumpy, forgetful and have difficulty concentrating. 

Constant change has been a key feature of the twentieth century. Some changes are superficial. Others have been more profound. The improved status of women, new ways of raising children, altered attitudes to authority and concern about the environment have had a deep effect on how we live and relate to each other. For many, the lack of certainty created by change is stressful. 

In our society it's difficult to avoid all of these pressures (and there are no doubt others). Yet Christians often add another stress of their own—guilt about feeling stressed! They feel that as Christians, they should be living peaceful, stress-free lives. Otherwise, how will they be a living witness to Jesus?

It's true that if we deal with stress by using drugs or alcohol, or by abusing our family, we will not be much of an advertisement to others. Nor are we likely to be believed if we pretend to ourselves and others that we don't experience the same pressures as other people. 

That is not to say that we should make a virtue of being stressed. Paul only "boasted" about his sufferings in order to make a point. (See 2 Corinthians 11:16-30). What we really need is to recognise the stresses in our lives and find constructive, godly ways to deal with them. 

Leaping in the dark

Are you afraid of letting God get a grip on you? Do you stand at a distance, too scared to let him get close? Do you fear what he might do with you, or ask you to do, if you handed over your life to him?

In one sense, we should all be afraid of God. We should never underestimate his power and awesomeness. It is a dreadful thing to fall, unprepared, into the hands of the living God.

But it's not this reverent fear which holds many of us back from putting ourselves fully in God's hands. Our fear comes from other sources.

Some fear losing control. They've had unpleasant experiences of being controlled and manipulated by others. Perhaps they've been through a time where life was chaotically out of control and they've vowed (often subconsciously) never to let that happen to them again. They want to believe God can be trusted, but there's a dreadful emotional barrier in the way.

Some would like to be closer to God, but they're already committed to serving someone or something else - their career, their reputation, their parents or spouse, an ideology, an organization or a secret society. They're unwilling to depose their idol, and God allows no rivals.

Half-heartedness is sometimes a mask for laziness. While I continue to serve God on my terms, I can set limits to how much time and effort I give him. Being a paid servant is one thing, becoming a slave of Christ is quite another. But fear can also cause half-heartedness - what if God asked me to do more than I could cope with? What if I never achieve the things I want to achieve because I'm too busy doing God's work?

Satan uses our fears to keep us at a distance from God. He tells us God doesn't have our best interest at heart. He keeps the word "fanatic" fresh in our minds. He holds us over a dark abyss and whispers "This is faith. Do you really want to jump?"

Jesus calls to us, "Follow me". But where? What will happen along the way? Putting all our trust in him can seem like a leap in the dark, until we understand how he proved his trustworthiness on the cross. If you are afraid to trust your life to God, or know that he's asking you to trust him more, talk to another Christian about it and ask them to pray with you. The only truly safe place in the universe is in God's hands.

Photo by Mitchell Hartley on Unsplash

Faith in Crisis - free ebook to download

I've recently put together some of the articles from this blog and my archives that seem relevant to the present times. They cover topics such as faith, trust, doubt, disasters and questions about God's goodness.

The result is 'Faith in Crisis', a small eBook in PDF format that's free to download from my website. I hope and pray that it will be an encouragement to you.




UPDATE

I've now added a second eBook, Hope in Sorrow, which is made up of longer articles on grief, depression, stress and death. You can download it free from my website.

Help me, Lord

Where do you go when life hurts? Who do you turn to when your health falters, when relationships sour, when things happen which leave you feeling sad, angry, weary or frightened? As Christians we know the answer: "Take it to the Lord in prayer."

Unfortunately, despite the old song, many of us have learned that it's selfish to pray for ourselves. Ignoring the ache in our hearts, we methodically work through praise, thanksgiving and praying for others before we bring our own problems to God. It's as though, somehow, we must earn the right to talk to him about ourselves.

Imagine a child coming to her father and saying "Dad, you're the greatest. I'm really grateful for all the things you've given me. Please look after my sister Mary, who has a sore thumb. And Dad, I've broken my wrist and it hurts."

I'm not suggesting that we shouldn't regularly praise and thank God. Nor should we be selfish and demanding children who ignore the needs of others. Sometimes praying for others can lift us out of a mood of self-pity. 

But it's easy to fall into the subtle temptation to use praise, thanksgiving and intercession for others as a means of twisting God's arm. We may seem to be honouring God. Yet what we're really doing is showing a lack of trust in him and probably feeding our own pride as well. ("See how unselfish I am, praying for Mary before I pray for myself".)

The psalmists often poured out their hearts to God, before reminding themselves of his goodness to them in the past. Praise frequently followed their laments, but not always. Their prayers sometimes seem quite abrupt and self-focused. Yet it would be difficult to accuse the psalmists of not trusting God or not taking him seriously.

Jesus taught his disciples to begin their prayers with worship (Father, hallowed be your name) and a commitment to God's kingdom (Your will be done) before asking him to meet their own needs (Give us this day). This is how we should pray most of the time. 

Yet it's not the way that Jesus prayed in Gethsemane or on the cross. Nor did he ever turn anyone away because they failed to worship and thank him before they asked for healing. The very fact that they came to him for healing showed that they recognised who he was and put their trust in him. We can do the same.

Image by Steve Bidmead from Pixabay

Fallen and restored

There's a false understanding of the gospel which goes something like this: "Human beings are wretched, worthless creatures, quite useless and valueless to God. But because Jesus died for us, we have become precious to God."

It's false because it begins the gospel in the middle of the story. Fallen human beings truly are wretched creatures. But that isn't how God created us. He made us in his image, "a little lower than the angels". In his original plan, each one of us was to be a magnificent being, living in loving relationship to God, glorifying him and of great value to him. The very word "fallen" suggests this idea.

All that God has ever created is good, in the sense of being excellent, pleasing and valuable. That includes each of us. It’s true that from the moment of conception, we have been marred by others' sins, and corrupted by our own sins. We have done nothing to deserve God's love. Yet even in our sinful, unforgiven state, God loves us because he made us and knows who, and what, we were meant to be.

Yes, our sin arouses his anger, the anger of a good sovereign whose subjects are in revolt against his just laws. But it is also the anger of an artist who sees his precious work being spoiled and destroyed, the anger of a lover who sees his beloved giving herself to worthless suitors and prostituting herself.

Almost every metaphor used to describe Jesus' death involves some sort of return to a state that has been lost and is now regained - atonement, reconciliation, redemption, forgiveness, healing. Jesus' death did not make God love us. Jesus died for us because God loved us and wanted us restored to himself.

In the past, human life and achievement were often over-valued, as if man were the measure of all things. But in recent times, human beings have increasingly been portrayed as a blot on an otherwise perfect and harmonious universe. We need to be careful not to absorb this idea into the gospel. Not only does it lead to a devaluing of human life (as seen in the growing acceptance of abortion and euthanasia) it also robs the gospel of its message of restoration.

We have fallen from glory and deserve condemnation. But through Jesus we are being restored to the glory that God intended us to have, a glory that brings greater glory to him.

Image by Myriam Zilles from Pixabay 

Is God really good?

Sometimes I wonder if God really is good. When I watch the news, or read a newspaper, I wonder how we can keep saying "God is in control". When I see the terrible pain and suffering that people inflict on each other, not just in the world, but even in the church, I sometimes begin to doubt that God is even real. Where is he? What is he doing? Are we just wasting our time in church on Sunday?

What keeps me from tossing my Bible in the bin is reflecting on the life of Jesus. Jesus lived in a time when the blind and the lame and the leprous had no hospitals, no Medicare, no social services. He saw children tormented by uncontrolled epilepsy and dying of infections.

He lived in a country occupied by soldiers who didn't look to see if the media were watching before they beat people up. As he wandered about the countryside, he probably saw the mangled bodies of those who had been crucified. He heard his disciples arguing, vying with each other for status, making promises he knew they couldn't keep. He knew far better than I do what the real world is like.

And yet he kept talking as if God were in control. He spoke of God as our Father, who loves us and cares for us.

Perhaps Jesus was just crazy and deluded, ignoring what was in front of him and living in a spiritual dream world. If that's the case, we might as well go home. But if he was sane, then it's tremendously reassuring to know that he lived in the real world. He knew what it's like, and yet he could still trust his Father. He could still believe that his life and death had purpose and meaning. He could still work with his disciples, despite their failings. He didn't look around him and throw up his hands in despair.

Jesus could have used his divine powers to miraculously change the world. He was certainly tempted by that possibility. So why did he heal only a few? Why did he feed just a few thousand and not all the world's hungry? Why didn't he end the brutal political system of the time?

Who knows? The fact that he could have done these miracles, but didn't, suggests that what he did was more important than all of these potential miracles. It helps to bring things back into their eternal perspective.

Photo by British Library on Unsplash

The Evil That Men Do (review)

The Evil That Men Do, by Marcus K. Paul, (Sacristy Press, 2016) takes an unflinching look at some of the most shameful events in the history of the church, such as the Crusades and the Spanish Inquisition. It also examines periods in Christian history which are commonly held up to ridicule, such as 16th and 17th century Puritanism, and Victorian religiosity and "do-goodism".

The book is well written, being neither simplistic nor contentious. The author makes no effort to deny or excuse atrocities. The cover tellingly shows Thomas Cranmer being burned at the stake by fellow Christians in 1556.

Through his knowledgeable and widely-sourced descriptions of the political and philosophical background of each era, Paul sets events in context. He also points to some of the positive impacts of the church and individual Christians in each era which are often overlooked. As he says, "the evil that men don't do because of their beliefs is hardly susceptible to recording and measurement", whereas their evil deeds live on in memory.

I read the book while researching and thinking about the First World War. Chapter 10, "Global War and the Abridgement of Hope", deals with the horrors of the war and the widespread loss of faith and changed attitude towards the church that resulted from it, especially amongst soldiers. The author takes up Wilfred Owen's argument that it was often the experience of other's actions that destroyed, or occasionally preserved, faith. He compares this to the Victorian era, when disbelief was more likely to result from pondering and debating abstract ideas.

He deals sympathetically with those who lost their faith. After the war, he says, many people were so psychologically scarred by what they had been through that no amount of rational argument for God's existence, let alone goodness, could move them. This was especially the case if it was offered by clergy who had not seen the brutality firsthand. (Things were rather different in America, where the experience of the war years strengthened Christian certainty and uniformity.)

Surprisingly, Marcus K Paul has little to say about Christian opposition to the war. He speaks of Christians, such as members of the Salvation Army, who courageously worked alongside the troops in the trenches, bringing cups of tea and comfort. His chapter has more to do with people's attitude to the church rather than the church's attitude to the war.

As is well known, the established churches on both sides largely supported both the war and conscription. More than one historian has argued that the war was portrayed as a holy war. Yet there were a few Christian voices raised against the war, including the great German theologian, Karl Barth. It would be good to hear more of them.

The book doesn't cover the more recent issue of child sexual abuse by clergy and others associated with the church. Perhaps the full extent of that evil has not been fully exposed yet. Much of what the author says about other evils could well be applied. Overall, The Evils that Men Do provides a way of thinking about the unthinkable, not justifying it, but not being overwhelmed by it either.

Rescued

When I was a child, I went to church with my parents and attended Sunday school every week. By the time I turned fourteen, there were no other kids my age in the church. The Sunday school supervisor decided that, since he was short of teachers, I could take on a class. So I found myself teaching a class of ten and eleven-year-olds.

It was daunting, but I enjoyed finding ways to bring the old familiar Bible stories to life. Then Easter came along, and I became aware that I really had no idea how Jesus dying on a cross had anything to do with me or the children I was teaching. 'Jesus died to save sinners'. It said so in the prayer book. I'd heard it every week. But what did it mean?

I was in my early twenties before I found the answer. While reading a Christian book, I discovered that Jesus willingly took on himself the sins of the whole world. On the cross, he paid the penalty for our rebellion and indifference to God. My sins were included. And because my sin had already been judged and the penalty paid by God himself, in Jesus, I could be at peace with him. I didn't have to earn my way to heaven (a task which I had already learned was impossible). That discovery became a precious moment. Not only did I have an answer, I also had a Saviour, a Rescuer.

Since then I have learned that the Bible gives many different answers to my question, 'What does "Jesus died for sinners" mean?' Jesus was the ransom, paid to set us free from our slavery to sin. Jesus took our sins to the grave and left them there when he was raised to life. Jesus, being sinless, overcame the power which death held over sinners. Satan threw everything he had at Jesus, and lost, so that he no longer has any claim over us.

Jesus became the new representative of humankind, replacing the old representative, Adam. Jesus was the sacrificial lamb, the true sacrifice which the Old Testament sacrifices had only mirrored. Jesus, by his supreme example of love for people and obedience to God, draws us to himself. Jesus conveys to us the lengths to which God would go to save us from the consequence of our rebellion towards him.

The Bible writers used these and other examples, drawn from human experience, to explain how Jesus' death could save sinners. They are all helpful and true. And yet in the end, salvation is still something which is beyond our full comprehension. It is too marvellous for words. All that we can do is accept it from God with wonder and gratitude.

Image by Hans Braxmeier from Pixabay

The grace

"May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all." (2 Corinthians 13:14)

I once attended a church where the minister would bow his head and intone "The grace of our Lord..." when anyone walked in late, as if the service was about to end. His congregation soon learned to turn up on time! Sometimes the words do seem barely more than a pious version of "See you later".

Yet surely Paul didn't mindlessly scribble the words down as a way of ending his letter to the church in Corinth. He wanted the Corinthians to understand that his apparent harshness with them in his previous letter was not meant to bolster his weak authority, but to build them up and make them more Christ-like. He was deeply hurt by their attitude towards him, and the way they were comparing him to the more charismatic "super apostles".

He made no apology for having disciplined them, but he longed for them to demonstrate that they loved him as he loved them, by living as he had taught them. Rather than concluding simply with "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you", as he did in many of his other letters, he added an even greater blessing, one which we can all use.

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ: God doesn't offer us a life free from weakness and hardship, but grace to demonstrate His power in our lives. "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" (1 Cor 12:9). It is the same grace which took Jesus through the weakness of death on the cross to the power of the resurrection and victory over sin.

The love of God: In his previous letter Paul had tried to convince the Corinthian Christians that no matter how important the gifts of the Spirit are to the life of the church, they are useless without love (1 Cor. 13). Now he prays that they will experience the source of that love, God himself.

The fellowship of the Holy Spirit: Twice in this letter, Paul refers to the Holy Spirit being given to us as a guarantee of our salvation and future resurrection (1 Cor 1:22, 5:5). To experience the fellowship of the Holy Spirit is to know the assurance of our place in God's kingdom. Our relationship to other Christians then becomes something more than just human fellowship. We are bound to each other by a bond stronger than common beliefs or even family relationship - the presence of the Holy Spirit within us.

What does it mean to trust God?

Trust is important in any relationship. But there are two levels of trust. The first involves our expectation that the other person will do us good rather than harm and will carry out what they say they will do. Over time we learn whether or not to believe the things they promise.

The second, deeper, level of trust involves our sense of safety when we are with them, and our willingness to reveal ourselves to them. We all long to be known deeply by someone. Yet life teaches us to be wary of exposing our real selves to anyone, in case they use that knowledge to harm us. It takes a great deal of trust to reveal our most intimate selves to another.

Our relationship with God involves both types of trust. As we step out tentatively in faith, we learn through experience that God will do what he has promised. He has our best interest in mind. Sometimes we go through painful experiences which seem to make no sense. Only in retrospect do we see how God was working for good. Such experiences help our tentative faith to grow into a deeper trust in God's goodness.

But trusting God also means trusting that he is safe to be with. It means being sure that if we approach him, he won't overwhelm us. If we reveal our true selves to him, he won't turn on us in anger, or disapproval, or scorn.

Almost the first thing we learn about God is that he knows our every thought, word and deed (Ps 139). That could be frightening to know. Yet our assurance as Christians rests on the fact that there is no condemnation in Christ Jesus (Rom 8.1). God knows all there is to know about us, and yet he loves and accepts us.

But how well do we know this? I suspect that most of us cope with the idea of God knowing us intimately either by reducing God to something less than he really is, or by attempting to hide certain parts of ourselves from his gaze. The more we learn of the awesomeness of God, the less inclined we feel to be known by him. That is, until we really come to believe, with our hearts as well as our minds, that he is to be trusted. Being fully known by God then becomes a source of joy and strength rather than a fearful thing.

Image by Bob Marjawar from Pixabay  This article originally appeared on "One Candle", my former website. It may be copied (without alteration) for non-commercial use, but please acknowledge its source.

Ruth and Boaz - more than a quaint story

She was a young, childless widow, an immigrant with no property and no income. He was a respectable land owner in a small town. Their story has a touch of romance, but it's hardly the stuff of history. Why is it included in the Bible? What distinguished Ruth and Boaz from those around them, who lived and died, then rested forgotten within a couple of generations? Why does Ruth´s story appear among the Old Testament records of kings and battles?

After her husband´s death, Ruth could have chosen to stay in Moab with her family, as her sister-in-law Orpah did (Ruth 1:8-18). No-one would have criticised her for that. Israel was in a state of chaos, with no clear leadership. As a foreigner, with no means of supporting herself, she would hardly have expected a warm welcome there. Her mother-in-law, Naomi tried to persuade her to return to her own people.

But Naomi's faith had touched Ruth. Her own gods, the gods of Moab, were not like Naomi's God. She felt a bond with the older woman that had nothing to do with self-interest. Naomi had little to offer her, but Ruth decided to go to Bethlehem and trust God for his provision and protection.

No-one would have protested if Boaz had looked after his own interests, as his near kinsman did, rather than caring for Ruth. But Boaz took God's word seriously. He accepted his responsibility towards Ruth, no matter how inconvenient it might be to him. He treated her with the kindness and generosity which Jesus described when he spoke of going the second mile (Matt 5:38-42).

Sometimes God calls on people as leaders, to do mighty deeds. Moses led the Hebrew people out of Egypt. David killed Goliath and enlarged the kingdom of Israel into a powerful nation. Paul travelled immense distances to preach the gospel to the gentiles.

But God also involves himself in the lives of ordinary people, working through their losses and hardships to bring them lasting joy. He uses those willing to be obedient in small things, to bring about results which they themselves could never have imagined. We are not told what became of Orpah and the kinsman who chose not to get involved. But Ruth and Boaz became the ancestors of both King David and Jesus. Their story is recorded for all to read and ponder.

(This article is modified from one which originally appeared in the St Alban's church bulletin and on my previous website, One Candle. Image Neil Palmer (CIAT), Threshing, near Sangrur, SE Punjab, India. November 2011)

Precious gifts

Imagine that a friend gives you a present, rather clumsily wrapped. You know that your friend has very different tastes to yours, in fact, if you were quite truthful, you'd say that they have poor taste. So you unwrap the parcel with some trepidation. Inside you find a plain white candle in some sort of glass candle holder. You try to look impressed, but the thing is unattractive, hideously old-fashioned,and not at all in keeping with your decor. You thank them politely, and as soon as they've gone you put it away in a cupboard and forget about it.

A few weeks later there's a power failure. Stumbling around in the dark, you look for a candle and find your friend's candle holder. Gratefully you light it and at last you have a little light. And now you realise that when the light shines through the glass, the candle holder is exquisitely beautiful. There are colours and patterns in the glass that you couldn't see before.

Sometimes when we try to tell people about Jesus and the gospel, our words are like that candle holder. They seem clumsy and we wish we knew how to present them better. Those listening receive them with polite indifference, even embarrassment, because what we say seems so out-dated, and doesn't at all fit in with their personal "interior decor". Next time we meet them, they seem to have forgotten everything we said. We may be tempted to stop speaking to them about Jesus altogether.

We can pray, though, that one day, in a dark moment in their lives, they will remember our words. When they do, they will discover that with the light of the Holy Spirit shining through them, they are a most precious gift.

Confident sinners

Here's a paradox - the longer we've been a Christian, the more we come to realise how sinful we really are. We discover that our antagonism towards God runs very deep.

Does this sound familiar? Before I turned to Christ, I sometimes felt guilty about specific things I'd done, but I didn't know what to do with the guilt. It was a joy to discover that because of Jesus' death on the cross, I'm forgiven and accepted by God.

For a while I was delighted to find that I was overcoming some of my unwanted bad habits. But then the Holy Spirit started to show me things that I'd never seen as sinful before. And worse than that, I sometimes found myself committing sins I thought I'd conquered years ago. I also realised that even the good things I do are often motivated by a need to gain another person's approval, or fear of criticism, or pride in my own skills. And what of the good things I could have done, but failed to do, out of laziness, fear or lack of love?

If you recognise this process, you'll know that at this point it becomes tempting to doubt that God could really love us. It was one thing to believe that God loved us when our sins were all out on the surface - deep down we knew that we were really quite decent people. But how could God love someone who is sinful to the core?

Eventually (by God's grace) we discover that doubting God's love is itself a sin. Perhaps the greatest sin of all. Isn't that what the story of Adam and Eve is all about? Satan, in the form of the serpent, persuaded the pair that God didn't really have their best interest at heart, that he was treating them unfairly, and keeping good things from them. So they chose to doubt God's love. They ignored his warning about what would happen if they tried to judge for themselves what was good and evil. And then, when they realised what they'd done, they shamefacedly hid from God rather than coming to him for forgiveness. They refused to confess, blaming each other, the serpent, even God himself. They didn't recognise God's anguished question, "What have you done?" as the cry of love. They heard it as a rebuke.

Over and over God's Word tells us that Jesus really did die for us "while we were yet sinners". Each new discovery of the depth of our sinfulness serves to grow our understanding of how much Jesus suffered for us on the cross. Instead of being weighed down by our discovery that we aren't just people who sin, but innately sinful, we find new freedom, thankfulness and joy. The more we understand how sinful we are, the more we come to appreciate just how much God loves us.

And then we meet another paradox - the more we recognise our ingrained tendency to sin, the more God can use us in his service. Because we no longer dare trust ourselves, we learn to depend on him. We know we can't overcome our sinfulness by our own efforts, but God's Spirit is working in us to make us more and more like Christ. It's this confidence in Christ, not self-confidence, that turns pew-warmers into witnesses and activists into prayerful, powerful servants of God.

A shorter version of this article originally appeared on "One Candle", my former website. It may be copied (without alteration) for non-commercial use, but please acknowledge its source.

Staying power

Poverty, chastity and obedience are the traditional vows of those entering religious orders. Benedict, however, added a fourth vow for his order - stability. Benedictine monks and nuns are expected to remain within the same community for life.

This might seem strange, even harsh to us. We expect to move house and change jobs several times over a lifetime. Our whole society is hooked on the idea that change is progress. We are enticed and cajoled into changing our clothes, our furniture and our cars, not because the old ones have worn out, but because "new is better".

Current wisdom sees no virtue in staying put. If a relationship is no longer satisfying, leave it and find someone more compatible. If the church you attend is a bit dreary or disagreeable, try the one down the road. After all, wasn't Jesus himself a wandering preacher with nowhere to lay his head?

What Benedict recognised was that neither true community nor growth of the individual Christian is possible without some stability. This may not necessarily mean living a lifetime in one place. But we should be slow to move unless we have a clear call to do so.

When Jesus told Peter that he should forgive his brother “seventy times seven’ (Matt 18:21-22), he was surely implying some sort of long-term relationship between the two. It's relatively easy to forgive a petty offence two or three times. To go on forgiving day after day goes beyond our own resources. Even minor irritations become painful sores if they are constantly renewed. By enduring, we not only learn to forgive as God forgives, but we also learn to rely on God for grace to forgive.

When we first join a community we are often enthusiastic. Our relationship to others is positive but superficial. People are kind to us because we are new. After a while, we begin to feel disillusioned. We're no longer given special attention. We discover that these people have all the usual human faults and weaknesses. Sometimes our relationships with others become quite difficult or painful. It is tempting at this stage to leave.

But by leaving we miss the opportunity to become more Christ-like. Love which is patient, not easily angered, keeps no score of wrongs, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres (1 Cor 13) takes time and adversity to develop. By moving on we also miss the opportunity to become part of a community in which we are accepted as we really are.

(This article originally appeared on "One Candle", my former website. It may be copied (without alteration) for non-commercial use, but please acknowledge its source. Photo copyright Stella Budrikis)

What happened to One Candle?

A lot of the articles on my old website "One Candle" were out of date, and the site itself was difficult to maintain, so I've closed it. I'm planning to edit or rewrite the articles worth keeping and post them here. If you are looking for a particular article that used to be on that site, please contact me and I'll send you a copy.

Are you more like Timorous, or Mr Fearing?

Timorous and Mr Fearing are two of the characters described by John Bunyan in his allegorical story, The Pilgrim's Progress. Despite the similarity of their names, they have rather different personalities, and come to very different ends.

The Pilgrim, Christian, meets Timorous and his companion Mistrust at the top of the Hill of Difficulty. Unlike Christian who is heading for the Celestial City, Timorous and Mistrust are going the other way. Christian asks "why?" After all, they have already come some way in their journey and struggled up the Hill. Why not keep going? 

Timorous replies "The further we go, the more danger we meet with." He's seen the dangers ahead, he's had enough, and he's going back to the easy life he had in the world. He was never really committed to reaching the Celestial City.

Mr Fearing also falters at every danger and opposition he meets. But unlike Timorous, he stands his ground, quaking, until he finds the courage to go forward. His journey to the Celestial City is slow and painful, for his companions who have to bear with him as well as himself. Yet the Lord seems to take special care of him. And in the end he arrives at his goal.

Two things distinguish Mr Fearing from Timorous. The first is his determination to reach the Celestial City. No matter what lies ahead, he won't turn back, even if he fears going forward. The second is that his greatest fear is not danger or discomfort, but making mistakes. He often missed out on the joys of being a pilgrim because of his lack of assurance. Yet he sometimes showed remarkable courage and spiritual strength.

Bunyan was an astute and experienced pastor. He recognised that Mr Fearing's problem was not that he lacked the will to be a Christian, but that he carried with him a personal weakness. Bunyan also observed that the Lord seemed particularly gentle with such people.

None of us ought to be like Timorous, giving up too soon. No doubt we would all like to be like Great Heart, Faithful, or Valiant-for-Truth - Christians who do great things for the Lord and seem to fear nothing. Yet if we feel like Mr Fearing, we can be assured that God still has a place for us in the Celestial City and will see that we get there.

Holding on to faith

Most of us have probably wondered at some stage whether we can really go on being a Christian until the end of our lives. Our faith seems so weak and wobbly at times.

Perhaps we’ve struggled with doubts about certain doctrines, or felt puzzled and disturbed by something we've read in the Bible. Maybe we’ve tried to share the gospel with others and found ourselves flummoxed by their questions or their negative response.

Or perhaps we’re disheartened by our own lack of discipline in Bible reading, prayer and service. We determine to do better, but soon we get distracted by other things. Some distractions we have no control over, like illness in the family, but sometimes we’re way-laid by trivia. We begin to fear that we’re back-sliding so fast that soon we’ll be unable to hold on to our faith.

Christians in many parts of the world face much harsher threats to their faith. Their fear is that they may denounce Christ under torture, or hide their faith in order not to lose their livelihood. In comparison, our fears seem pathetic. But they are real, nevertheless. We’ve all met people who once were Christians, who now disclaim their faith. We don’t want to become like them.

The fact that we do fear losing our faith is actually reassuring. It’s a sign that the Spirit is still at work within us, otherwise why would we care? But how will we remain faithful?

It’s humbling, yet also heartening, to realise that in the end we remain in Christ because he who called us, and gave us faith to believe in him in the first place, continues to call us and give us faith. He gives us the faith to read, to understand, to pray, to act. He holds onto us when our thoughts are scattered or dreadful, when our reading and praying seem hollow, when we’re weary of doing good. (Phil 1:6)

And he provides faithful people around us to pray for us, and encourage us to keep going. The greatest prayer we can pray for another Christian is “Lord, preserve their faith”.

Why we need to be familiar with the whole of scripture

Two voices, one song*

In his letter to the church in Rome, Paul was writing to Christians who were at risk of believing that keeping the Jewish law was helpful, perhaps even necessary, for salvation. To help them understand that it was their faith in Jesus, not keeping the law, that put them right with God, he pointed out that Abraham was declared righteous by God before the covenant of circumcision was even introduced. He quoted Genesis 15:6, “And he believed the Lord, and he counted it to him as righteousness.”

James' letter, on the other hand, was addressed to converts who, having rightly understood that they were saved by faith and no longer under the Jewish law, were at risk of going to the other extreme, thinking that they were free from all law. Any sort of “good work”, even loving a neighbour, could be seen as law-keeping and an attempt to win God’s favour.

He quoted the same verse from Genesis 15 that Paul used. But then he went on to say that this scripture “was fulfilled” just seven chapters later in Genesis 22:1-19, when God tested Abraham’s faith by asking him to sacrifice Isaac. Abraham had faith when he believed God’s promise in chapter 15, but that faith was demonstrated in his obedience in chapter 22.

Peter, writing to Christians who were being persecuted, says that they should see their trials as a test of their faith, to show that it is genuine. (1 Peter 1:6-7) Perhaps he too was thinking of Abraham’s faith being tested by God in Genesis 22.

Here we have an example of why we need to be familiar with the whole of scripture. If we don’t know the Old Testament, we’ll have no idea what Paul and James are talking about, and we’ll have even less chance of seeing the allusion to the Old Testament by Peter.

If we’re only familiar with a few verses from Paul, we’ll think that James has missed the point about “salvation by faith alone”, and we may be at risk of falling into the same error as the people James was writing to (though that was never Paul’s intention). If we only read James, we may fall into the opposite error. Knowing the whole helps us to make sense of the parts.


*Image by Ian MacKenzie, https://www.flickr.com/photos/madmack/424759185

Worthy to be insulted

We all need encouragement to keep doing what we’re doing. As a writer, I’m encouraged to go on writing when someone tells me that something I’ve written has been helpful to them. Teachers are encouraged when their students do well in their exams. Trades people are encouraged when a customer recommends them to someone else, not just because of the promise of more work, but because it shows that the quality of their work is appreciated.

But what should encourage us as Christians to keep on striving to lead Christian lives? We might answer something like “seeing many people converted” or “receiving answers to prayer”. Jesus gave a very different and rather strange answer to the question.

He said we should be encouraged when we are persecuted. In fact we should rejoice when we are persecuted for his sake, because it shows that our lives are producing the same effect as those of the prophets and our reward awaits us in heaven (Matt 5:11-12). Peter, in his letter to the churches, said that being insulted for the name of Christ shows that the Spirit of God rests upon us. (1 Peter 4:14)

Of course it’s possible to be ‘persecuted’ for being a self-righteous busybody or a bully. Jesus spoke specifically of being falsely accused of evil for his sake. But if we are endeavouring to live Christ-like lives, being merciful, faithful, loving, forgiving and fearless, and yet find ourselves rejected and excluded because we are Christ’s people, we can rejoice and be encouraged to continue. Like the disciples in Acts 5, we are being counted worthy to suffer dishonour for his name.