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 

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.

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)

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

Gratitude and thankfulness

Oh give thanks to the Lord, for he is good,
    for his steadfast love endures forever! (Ps 107:1)

In a recent news clip about children’s art being displayed in a prestigious art gallery, one child was asked how she felt about seeing her picture hanging besides works by world-famous artists. Her unsmiling response was “It shows that I’ve worked hard and that if you really want to, you can achieve anything.”

In a world which emphasises achievement through hard work, it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that we must have earned what comes to us. We feel frustrated if our work is not rewarded and deprived if what we have is taken away.

Gratitude isn’t something hardwired into human beings. It requires a realisation that most of what we have is totally undeserved. We did nothing (good or bad) to deserve the talents we were born with, the family we belong to, the country we live in. We did nothing to deserve being born at all. Everything is a gift.

Psychologists have begun to emphasise the importance of gratitude to our mental well being. Taking time each day to notice the things we have to be grateful for helps to protect us against stress, improves our relationships with others and can be a potent antidote to depression.

Gratitude, looked at in this way, is primarily an inner experience. It may lead to outward expressions of thanks, but it focuses on the good that comes to us. It says “I am blessed”.

Thankfulness goes beyond that to recognising the goodness of the one from whom undeserved favour comes. It says “Thank you for blessing me.” This is more than just being polite. Whether it’s thanking our spouse for some small kindness or thanking God for the beauty of a sunrise, heartfelt thanks-giving requires humility. It takes the emphasis off ourselves as the receiver and places it on the giver.

Jesus makes mothers' day

He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young. Isaiah 40.11 (NIV)

The prophet Isaiah had good news to announce to God’s people. God himself would come and be their shepherd. He would demonstrate his power and authority, but he would also have a special concern for those who were so often left behind by the rest of the flock. The young and their mothers would be close to his heart.

Jesus came, but not even his disciples recognised him as the Good Shepherd. When parents brought their young children to Jesus for him to bless, the disciples shooed them away. Couldn't these people see that Jesus had much more important things to do than to fuss over their children? He was a prophet, not a grandmother (see Luke 18:15-17).

We’re not told specifically that it was mothers who brought their children to Jesus, but it’s likely that it was they who carried the youngest infants to him. And Jesus welcomed them. He knew how difficult it was for mothers to keep up with the more ‘holy’ people around them when their infants needed feeding and their toddlers squirmed and wriggled in their arms and lack of sleep sometimes made them too tired even to pray. 

He saw that they came with faith in him, not in their own holiness. They knew that neither they nor their children had done anything that deserved his blessing, but they came anyway. Jesus rewarded their faith by blessing their children. 

Then he honoured them by telling the shocked disciples that they needed to become like these little children. The kingdom of God was open to those who had the same unquestioning trust in God’s love and care that these infants had in their mothers. 

The Pharisees had something right

"Let us then approach God's throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." (Hebrews 4:16)

The Pharisees knew the scriptures well. They knew that in order to approach a good and holy God, you must live a life of scrupulous obedience to his law. Since no human being could hope to live a perfectly sinless life, a sacrifice was needed to atone for your sins. Then you must have a priest appointed by God to act as your intermediary. Only then was it safe to approach God. Those who encountered him unprepared, like Isaiah, cried out in terror at his presence (Isaiah 6:5).

When a young preacher from Galilee claimed that he was God in human form, it was easy enough to see that his claims were false. He ate and drank with blatant sinners. He let those made unlcean by diseases touch him. He didn't allow his disciples to stop anyone from coming to him. Even gentile sinners were welcome. And he talked to God with the familiarity of a child with his father.

In one sense the Pharisees were right. How could God appear among them and not consume those who approached him carelessly and in sin? Jesus was not even a priest, so how could he pretend to represent God? Were his claims not blasphemous?

What they didn't understand was that Jesus himself was living a sinless life, the only truly sinless life, on behalf of those who came to him. Jesus himself was the ultimate sacrifice for sin that would end all sacrifices. Jesus was the great high priest who would be the eternal intermediary between God and his people.

While the Pharisees’ problem was that they couldn’t imagine a holy God appearing among them, our problem is that we sometimes take it for granted. We “approach the throne of grace” with a confidence that is based on a diminished view of God’s holiness rather than an appreciation of Jesus’ role in making it possible. In an act of sheer grace, our holy and loving God has provided us with all that we need to come to him. Who could imagine that?

Violence in the Old Testament - part 4

This is part 4 of a series. See part 1, part 2, part 3.

To summarise what I've said so far:

1. Much of the violence of the Old Testament is the result of human decisions and actions. The fact that such violence is not always condemned outright by the writers of the Old Testament does not necessarily mean that they are condoning it. (Part 1).

2. What causes the most difficulty for readers of the Old Testament, and arouses the greatest vitriol from its critics, is the fact that in some places God himself is the one commanding or carrying out the violence. How can a God who is described as loving and kind to all that he has made (by the Old Testament writers as well as the New) be involved in acts of violence and destruction?

3. Ignoring this problem is not a solution, nor is explaining it away by assuming that the Old Testament writers got it wrong or put words into God's mouth. (Part 2). However, it is true that the writers sometimes used militaristic metaphors for God's activity which we don't always find helpful.

4. God, as the uncreated creator, owner and sustainer of the world, does not have the same limitations that human beings have and his actions cannot be subjected to the same analysis or restrictions that we would apply to another human being. This is not the same as saying 'might is right'. A teacher who keeps a child from going out to play because of unfinished work is using their authority and wisdom to discipline the child. A child who stands at the door to prevent another child from going out to play is a bully.

5. Violence is generally perceived negatively. However it can be used positively in two situations - in creative (and re-creative) processes and in applying justice. (part 3)

Joshua and the Battle of Jericho

Let's look now at a specific example of God's use of violence, one which most people find disturbing.

Doubting Thomas

Now Thomas, one of the Twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”  
John 20:24-25 (English Standard Version)

I once thought of Thomas as someone with a sceptical outlook on life - a first century scientist who looked for evidence to support his hypotheses. I assumed he was like the many people I know who reject the Christian gospel because (they assume) there is not enough evidence to support it.

But these are people looking at Christianity from the outside. Thomas was not like that. He'd lived alongside Jesus for three years. He'd watched Jesus, listened to him, learned so much about him first hand. He'd been as committed to following Jesus as any of the disciples. When Jesus set out on his last journey to Jerusalem, it was Thomas who had urged them, "Let's go and die with him".

Detail from Carl Heinrich Bloch "Doubting Thomas"

Nor was Thomas like the Pharisees who wilfully disbelieved Jesus because he threatened their own position. As Jesus had predicted in his story of Dives and Lazarus, they would not believe even though someone were to return to them from the dead. (Luke 16:31) Thomas wasn't refusing to believe whatever evidence might be presented to him. He was adamant that he would only believe if he saw for himself, but later, having seen, he believed whole-heartedly.

Why did Thomas refuse to believe the words of ten men who were all well known to him? The other disciples had not believed the women who brought the news of the resurrection. "It seemed an idle tale to them", something the women, in their emotional turmoil, had dreamed up. The word of a woman was not admissible as evidence in a Jewish court, and no doubt the disciples had something of this attitude still with them even after spending three years with Jesus. But the word of two men had authority, and here were ten men all in agreement.

The disciples were no doubt so excited that they could hardly get the words out, as they told Thomas that they had seen the Lord. They must have told him, too, about Jesus showing them the wounds in his hands and side. Yet their collective enthusiasm and explanation didn't persuade him. Thomas insisted, “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.”

Other versions of this verse say "I will not believe". Either way, Thomas is quite emphatic. Nothing anyone can say will ever persuade him that Jesus has risen. Only seeing the evidence in front of him will make him change his mind.

It's difficult and risky to draw conclusions from the few sentences we have about Thomas. Yet there seems a definite movement in Thomas' attitude to Jesus in John's account, from the courageous commitment he showed on the road to Jerusalem, through the confused questioning in the upper room, to this determination not to believe without seeing for himself.

This willful doubting of Thomas is often taken as an example of arrogance or stubbornness towards Jesus. But could it be that Thomas' is guarding himself from further hurt and confusion? Is his refusal to believe perhaps a means of protecting himself from being disappointed and mistaken again, a case of 'once bitten, twice shy'?

It would seem, from his words in the upper room, "Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" that his recent determination to follow Jesus to his death was based on a less than accurate understanding of what Jesus was going to do in Jerusalem. He thought he knew where Jesus was going and why, but somehow what Jesus said in that last conversation with his disciples rattled Thomas. There's a desperation, almost exasperation in his question "How can we know the way?"

Then came the furtive arrest, the mockery of a trial and Jesus brutal death. Thomas did not go to his death with Jesus after all, he fled with the other disciples. Like Peter with his broken promise to remain with Jesus, Thomas had more on his mind in those days after the crucifixion than just his grief at the loss of a good friend and teacher. He was surely struggling with guilt at his own act of betrayal, and a continuing sense of confusion and disappointment.

Detail from Rubens
 "The incredulity of St Thomas"

There are many people like Thomas. Once upon a time they were deeply committed Christians who sincerely thought that they would go to great lengths, even to death, for the Lord and the gospel. They were the Youth workers in their churches, the best students in theological college, the people everyone knew was destined for the mission field or a great preaching ministry. Then something happened that stopped them in their tracks. Perhaps it was a tragedy in their own lives or the life of someone close to them. Perhaps it was a bitter, destructive conflict in their church, or the moral failure of someone they looked up to as a model and mentor.

Suddenly the gospel they thought they understood no longer made sense, it didn't help them describe what was happening, it didn't cover their wounds. At that point they decided that the only way they would be able to go on believing would be to have evidence that the gospel was really true. In the past they had believed because of what they heard and read, but now other people's words are not enough. Now they need evidence from Jesus himself. In order to protect their shattered confidence, they will not believe unless they see.

Yet they also struggle with their own shame at having promised so much and then walked away. Their pride has to deal with the fact that they've spent years trying to convert others, and now they no longer believe themselves. They look back on their past enthusiasm with embarrassment. This only adds to their determination not to go this way again without strong evidence. The merely wounded might declare that they cannot believe, the shamed insist that they will not.

The risen Jesus deals with the failings of each of his disciples gently, graciously, personally. He doesn't issue a blanket pardon. In fact, he doesn't actually rebuke any of them for their abandonment of him. He takes Peter aside on the beach and by asking three times "Do you love me" allows Peter to undo each of his three denials of him. How, then, does he deal with Thomas?

It's strange, really, that Jesus appeared first to his disciples when Thomas was absent. He could surely have arranged things so that all eleven disciples were together. John's account makes it sound as though Thomas arrived not long after Jesus left. That raises the question, did Jesus actually intend for Thomas to be absent on that first occasion? And if so, why? And why wait eight days before appearing again with Thomas present? We're not told.

We can imagine what those eight days must have been like for Thomas, with the other disciples all insisting that they'd seen Jesus and all talking about what they had seen, what he had said, what they had felt, what it could mean. Like the odd man out on a jury deliberation, he must have felt some pressure to accept what they were saying. Yet he apparently continued to insist on withholding belief until he saw the evidence for himself. Did Jesus wait those eight days, hoping that Thomas would change his mind? Or did he have some other intention in waiting?

Caravaggio "The incredulity of Saint Thomas"

When Jesus did appear, dramatically through a locked door, he wasted no time in speaking to Thomas. And he knew exactly what Thomas had been demanding. “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.”  With Jesus standing in front of him, Thomas surely didn't need to put his fingers in the nail holes to believe, but Jesus meets the full demands of Thomas unbelief. He holds out his hands to him.

Written dialogue does not always convey the tone in which something is said, nor the expression on the face of the speaker, and John does not tell us how Jesus spoke these words to Thomas. Often the verse is read as a stern rebuke or a command "Do not doubt!" and the words are used to warn those whose faith is wavering that doubt is not acceptable to Jesus.

These words could just as easily be said gently, compassionately, perhaps even ironically. "Don't be doubting, but believe". The original Greek text could be literally translated "Don't become disbelieving". Jesus loved Thomas just as he loved each of his disciples. He understood Thomas better than Thomas understood himself. Jesus' living presence in the room was rebuke enough to someone who had been denying that possibility.

Again, we can ask why John recounts this episode about Thomas in his gospel. In Luke's account of Jesus appearing to his disciples, Thomas is not mentioned by name. Instead, Jesus says to all of his disciples "Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?" (Luke 24:38) Then he shows them his hands and feet and invites them to touch him.

It is often said that this incident with Thomas is included by John to encourage those who have come to faith in Jesus through the witness of the apostles (directly, in John's day, or indirectly through scripture since then.) They may not have seen the risen Lord Jesus, but Jesus himself said that those who believe without seeing are 'blessed'. (John 20:29)

But if the emphasis is on  the blessing of believing without seeing, why not provide an example of someone who did believe solely on the word of the disciples. And why single out Thomas as the doubter, when John says none of the disciples believed the women's account, and when Luke makes clear that even with Jesus standing amongst them, some of the other disciples doubted? Jesus words in John 20:29 (“Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” ) could be inserted after Luke 24:40 and make perfect sense.

We might also ask what Jesus meant when he used the word 'blessed' for those who believe without seeing. Did he mean that they are commended or even rewarded by God for their faith? Or is their faith somehow a blessing in itself?

In that week of suspended belief Thomas was surrounded by friends who were no longer grieving but ecstatic in their joy at having seen Jesus alive. He must surely have longed to have their faith, to share their joy with them. And yet he's afraid to let go of that commitment never to believe unless he sees. The cost of being proved wrong and disappointed again seems just too great to bear. So while they're rejoicing, he's in a state of emotional turmoil and sadness. What if Jesus should never appear to his disciples again. He will have missed out forever on settling his doubts.

And now suppose he meets someone who has been told by the disciples about the resurrection and they have believed and are full of the excitement of a new convert. Wouldn't he describe their state as 'blessed' compared to his own?

But Jesus doesn't leave Thomas in his doubts. He comes to him. He gives him all the evidence he needs. And just in case he should later doubt that it happened, he comes to him while he's with others who can recall and confirm what took place and what was said.

It's worth noting three things in  this story. First, Thomas never stopped being a disciple.The other disciples did not exclude him because of his doubts. He was not numbered with the Pharisees who refused to believe for very different reasons. Second, Jesus is gracious to Thomas, and doesn't exclude him either. Instead he meets his need. But third, Jesus says those who believe without needing proof are far better off than those who will never believe without seeing.

The first two statements encourage us to be gentle towards those who struggle with doubt (including ourselves), and to continue to include them in our fellowship. The third precludes us from thinking that there is any merit in doubting, though we may have good reasons for having doubts. Waiting for proof is a risky path to take if proof comes only by a gift of grace.

(This is the second of an occasional series of articles on Biblical characters who experienced doubt. See also Jesus, are you the one? )

Beyond a second exodus

(Monday musings)

Parallels between Jesus and Moses abound. Both of them spent time in the desert before they were called to lead God’s people. Both led their people in a great exodus from slavery – slavery in Egypt in Moses case, slavery to sin in Jesus case. Both took their people across a seemingly impassable barrier – the Sea of Reeds in Moses case, death itself in Jesus’ case. Both brought their people to the brink of a promised land, literally for Moses, more figuratively for Jesus. Both gave their people the teaching and commandments of God.

The New Testament writers make much of this parallel, although they are at pains to point out that Jesus is far greater than Moses. Jesus is not only the one who leads his people in exodus, but he himself is the lamb who was slain, whose blood marks out those who belong to him and spares them from the angel of death. In describing the meeting between Jesus, Moses and Elijah on the mount of transfiguration, Luke uses the Greek word for ‘exodus’ to describe Jesus’ death-defeating mission, although it is often translated as ‘departure’ in English. (Luke 9:31)

But in seeing the parallels between the salvation from sin and death won by Jesus and the exodus from slavery into the promised land led by Moses, we must not miss the vital differences. The exodus was the beginning of the fulfilment of the covenant with Abraham (Genesis 15) which was brought closer to completion at Sinai (Mt Horeb) in a new covenant between God and the people of Israel. But between the exodus and the books of the gospel lies another promised covenant.

We already see it foreshadowed at the end of Deuteronomy. In chapter 28 God speaks (through Moses) of the blessings associated with keeping faith with him and obeying his law, and the curses that will come about as a result of forsaking God and his commandments.

But at the beginning of chapter 30 God says “And when all these things come upon you, the blessing and the curse, which I have set before you, and you call them to mind among all the nations where the Lord your God has driven you…” (Deut 30:1, my italics). In other words, while the people are being offered a clear choice, God already forsees that they will not be able to keep faith. It’s not that the commandments themselves are hard to find, or obscure or difficult to understand (Deut 30.11-14). It’s the heart of the people that is the problem.

In Deuteronomy 30.6 comes a promise: “the Lord your God will circumcise your heart and the heart of your offspring, so that you will love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, that you may live.” This promise is for a time after God brings the people back from exile (verse 5).

The same promise is picked up again by Jeremiah when writing to the exiles. “For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. And I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” (Jer. 31:33). It’s repeated by Ezekiel, also writing at the time of the exile. “And I will give them one heart, and a new spirit I will put within them. I will remove the heart of stone from their flesh and give them a heart of flesh” (Ez 11:19, see also Ez 36:26).

This promise of a new heart is fulfilled through the death and resurrection of Jesus and the sending of the Holy Spirit. If we miss its importance, we will think that we now stand in the same relationship to God as the people of Israel did as they prepared to cross the Jordan. We will think that we have been rescued from death and forgiven through the blood of the lamb, and now we are called to do our best to love God and to keep his commandments.

We have been rescued, and we are called to keep the commandments Jesus gave us. But as Paul describes in Romans 7, delighting in God’s law is one thing, doing it is another. Our spirits are willing, but our flesh, our human nature, is weak. If we are left to ourselves, we will fail, just as surely as the people of Israel did. Who will deliver us from this body of death? (Rom 7:24)

The answer is, God will, in Christ Jesus. “For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.” (Rom 8:3-4, my italics.)

It’s not just that what stood against us has been cancelled, and we are counted as righteous through Jesus death, (wonderful as that is). God has also provided a way in which “the righteous requirements of the law might be fulfilled in us.” He is making it possible for us to be righteous. How? Through “Christ in you”, through the Holy Spirit.

Conversion involves more than just changing our minds about the Lordship of Christ and accepting the forgiveness offered to us. It also means a change of heart. Our old lives are buried with Christ and in return we receive his life. To the extent that we allow him to live through us, we will find that the commandments are no longer a burden or a restriction on what we do. We will no longer even be focussed on what we should not do, but will find ourselves drawn into a more positive, proactive and loving way of life, the life of Christ.

Jesus is not simply the final fulfilment of the promises made to Abraham, but he fulfils all of the promises made in the Old Testament, including those of Jeremiah and Ezekiel.  The people who crossed the Jordan were the same people who left Egypt (albeit a generation older and wiser). But the disciples after Pentecost were not the same people who ate the last supper. The New Testament describes something radically new.

Working in the family business

Generally if someone says they are working for another person, we can assume one of two things. Either they are working with the expectation of some reward for their efforts, or they are working to pay off a debt owed to the other person.

If that's the case, what are we to make of phrases such as "he's working for God" or "she's doing God's work"? If we're working for God in the hope of some reward, we've missed the whole idea of grace. Everything we need has already been freely provided  in Christ. We don't need to earn it. And God owes us nothing. What can we possibly do that would make God indebted to us?

On the other hand, if we're working for God with the idea of "repaying our debts" to him, we've again misunderstood grace. We don't owe God anything except to love him and delight in what he has done for us. Good parents don't give gifts expecting their children to repay them in some way. Neither does God.

Christians who speak of 'working for God' tend to fall into the second error more often than the first. How many times have you heard "Since God has done so much for you, you should show your gratitude by working for his glory" or some similar sentiment? Sometimes it's a subtle call to dishonour the giver by offering payment for the gift.

I'm not suggesting that we should just take what God offers and go on our selfish way. Over and over we are called to labour and work with our best effort. But I think the New Testament emphasis is on 'working with God' rather than 'working for God.'

Having absorbed the amazing truth that through Christ we are now God's children, filled and empowered by his Spirit, and free of all debts except the debt to love, we are ready to co-operate with him in the work he is doing. We are sons and daughters working alongside our Father, learning from him to follow the family business. Where he succeeds, we share his success, but not vice versa.

Your temptations and mine

Temptation is a peculiarly personal thing. What seems enticing to one person can be quite neutral or even repulsive to another. Some temptations are common to everyone. But our genetics, upbringing, education, experience and culture all have an impact on what temptations we will find most difficult to deal with.

For example, I like a glass of wine with dinner. Maybe even a couple of glasses sometimes. But the idea of drinking the whole bottle in one sitting never enters my head. In fact, I so dislike the feeling of being intoxicated that the idea seems quite repugnant. I don't have to fight the temptation. It just doesn't exist for me.

Yet I know people who can't have one drink without being tempted to go on drinking until they're unconscious. The temptation is all but irresistible. The only way to overcome it is to avoid drinking alcohol altogether, which is not an easy thing to do in our society.

On the other hand, failing to speak up when I should is an ever-present temptation for me. Being naturally timid, and brought up not to say anything that might cause offense, I have to fight against this temptation every day. I wonder sometimes what it would be like to be one of those people who say whatever is on their mind without fear.

That is not to say that we can excuse certain sins because we are particularly prone to some temptations. Each of us still has to resist temptation when it occurs. But we need to be careful in how we judge others when they're struggling against temptations that we ourselves do not face. What do I know of how it feels to resist drinking alcohol to excess?

I've been thinking about this recently in relation to the attitude prevalent amongst some Christians towards homosexuality. Those who teach have a duty to explore what the Bible says about homosexual activity. But I've never heard a speaker confess that they have struggled with this temptation themselves. Usually no help is offered to people who are trying to deal with the temptation. It is simply condemned.

What's more, it's often not just the activity that is condemned, but being gay per se. I suspect this is sometimes just a careless choice of words. How can we condemn someone for being attracted to people of the same sex? None of us chooses what we find attractive. ("Let's see - yesterday I chose to find red cars attractive, so today I think I'll be attracted to green ones instead.") It's only in what we do with our attractions that we have a choice.

The Bible is quite clear that it is giving way to temptation, not being tempted, that is the problem. Jesus himself was tempted, yet did not sin. And notice that Satan chose temptations that were particularly potent for Jesus but probably quite meaningless to most of us. The writer to Hebrews tells us that because Jesus has faced the anguish of being tempted, he is able to help those who are tempted and deals gently and sympathetically with them (Hebrews 2:18, Heb 4:15).

Whatever our own particular weakness, we all know what it feels like to be tempted, and how difficult it can be to resist. If we've never faced the temptation to get into a sexual relationship with someone of the same gender, we need to be very careful in how we talk to, and about, those who have. Who knows, there may even be Christians struggling with homosexual temptation in our own congregations. Does what we say encourage them to go on resisting, and keep seeking forgiveness and grace when they fail, or does it drive them away?

The pros and cons of being a Christian's kid

Children growing up in a Christian family have many advantages. They usually have caring parents who provide for their physical needs, without being so focused on material things that they have no time for their children. Their upbringing will shelter them from the worst aspects of the world around them. Their parents are less likely than most to be addicted to alcohol or drugs or gambling. And they'll be introduced to the truths of Christianity from infancy.

This will provide them with a framework in which to view the world and make decisions. Deciding to follow Christ will seem the natural thing to do, rather than a leap into the unknown. Even though they may wander away from the church and Christianity in their teenage years, they will retain the knowledge of how to return to God when they're ready.

But there are disadvantages to being brought up in a Christian home and church culture. One of them is that having been taught and trained to do the right thing from childhood, it's easy for the child of Christians to become judgmental about others' behaviour. While some children from Christian families deliberately try everything that comes their way as an act of rebellion, most children with a secure, loving family and a well-ordered life find the temptations that others face just not that tempting. It then becomes difficult for them to empathise or even relate to those less fortunate in their upbringing when they 'fall into temptation'.

Another hazard is that while outwardly holding to a gospel of grace, the life-long Christian can be subtly persuaded that their own right living must earn them some credit with God. After all, within their Christian family, good behaviour was rewarded and bad behaviour punished, and their sense of justice encouraged. This can give rise to feelings of resentment towards God, when all their hard work seems to go unacknowledged.

Sermons that describe the Christian as someone who has moved dramatically from a position of rebellion against God to one of repentence often seem a bit out of touch with the experience of the person who can't remember exactly when they adopted their parents' faith as their own. Their own more subtle forms of rebellion are less often the subject of sermons, especially in churches that are focused on evangelism. This can lead to complacency, boredom with church and lack of spiritual growth.

The 'problem of evil' - if God is both good, and powerful, why is there so much evil in the world? - is often seen as something which deters people from becoming Christians. Yet the person from a Christian family may have a greater struggle to come to terms with evil, pain and suffering than the non-believer or recent convert.

The new convert may well come from a background where the evil of the world is a given, having no explanation, and they've lived all their lives without much hope of ever being free from it. To discover God and all that he promises, to discover the gospel that confronts evil, is liberating. The world has not changed, but they have something to hold on to in the storm.

The person who has been brought up in a Christian home, sheltered from the worst of the world's evils and told constantly about the goodness and love of God is sometimes stunned by the reality of suffering and evil when it confronts them as adults. They are not prepared for the storm. They may be familiar with the various theological explanations offered for evil, but such explanations sound hollow against the pain they see around them. What sort of God would allow such things? Where is the God who answers prayer? The compassion fostered by their Christian upbringing ironically feeds their grief and doubt. They feel that as Christians they should be able to offer an explanation, yet they have nothing to say that doesn't sound trite.

I suspect that many of the atheists who throw up 'the problem of evil' as an argument against Christianity come from a Christian background. Certainly many people date their loss of faith to some tragic event in their own life or the lives of those close to them. By God's grace others, like Job, find that their experience eventually deepens their faith and brings them to a more personal understanding of God.