The Word between Worlds

We were studying the ministry of John the Baptist in Mark 1 this week. I was struck again by the eschatological nature of preaching. John’s proclamation, just as the preaching of Jesus a few verses later, is not merely a flat call to repentance, to make a new start, to change simply because life might be better that way, or because it is the right thing to do. It is a call to repent in the light of the imminent action of God in judgement (Malachi's prophecy) and salvation (Isaiah). 

That action of God was, of course, in and through the arrival of Jesus himself. He came, also calling for repentance and faith, and pulling those two prophetic threads together in his own person. He brought salvation by bearing judgement. Believe it!

 

John’s ministry looked back (as did all the OT prophets) to the standards of the covenant that God had made with his people, but, more than any other prophet, he looked forward, because the Day of God was now arriving. Our ministry is no less eschatological, but we look back to God’s past work in the person of Jesus, and look forward, announcing his second coming and final judgement. He bore judgement, bringing salvation; he will return, bringing judgement and salvation that will define eternity for all of us. 

Our tendency is to lose that eschatological driving force in our preaching. Desperate for “relevance” we preach how Jesus transforms life now – which he does – but all too easily flatten out the proclamation into a mere moral appeal, which ultimately degenerates into what is little better than a self-help exhortation.

When the word of Christ is ministered, in whatever context, setting or style, our minds and hearts are brought into sharp confrontation with three “moments”.  As we proclaim Christ, we take people back to the moment of God's mighty working in the coming of his Son, and especially the complex of cross-resurrection-ascension-Pentecost which form the focus of that work. We take people forward to the return of this same man Jesus: history is not wandering aimlessly, but is moving, or is being moved, inexorably towards that moment, the End. There will be glory, ultimate justice, complete resolution to the whole story – and to your story and mine. 

And in between those Moments, we have the moment in which the word is being ministered. The preacher is conscious of his or her position in the Now, this moment that hangs suspended in the vast universe of space and time, held by invisible threads between the Victory and the Coming. The preacher’s job is to bring those who hear into consciousness of those other Moments and their bearing on the present; it is to make clear that this moment called Now is the time to act, to repent and believe in the light of the only two other Moments that really matter. This day when we preach has an official name - it is called Today, and is the day God has appointed for all of us, preachers included, to repent and believe the Good News.  

... by any means possible...

All preaching, in one way or another, needs to occur in the consciousness of those three Moments, and to bring hearers into that consciousness. Preaching that disconnects from Christ’s Past and Christ’s Future ceases to be preaching. Preaching is, in fact, eschatological activity in and of itself. It is the most important thing happening in the world today. When Christ word is preached, we hear the voice that said “Father forgive them” from the cross, and we hear the voice that will divide sheep and goats on the last day.

To preach Christ’s word is terrifying; not to preach is far worse.

Why I wear the poppy

Every country that has ever fought a war needs a regular reminder of the cost of war.

Every country that has never fought a war needs a regular reminder of the cost of war. 

It is right to remember those who died fighting for their country in wars that needed to be fought, where some essential point of justice, of saving lives, of protecting the world, was at issue. 

It is right to remember those who died fighting for their country in wars that did not need to be fought, wars that were misconceived, foolish and only damaging.

Those who were maimed in body or mind fighting in wars on behalf of their fellow countrymen should have the support and help of their country, both where the conflicts that brought them injury were wisely entered upon, or a foolish disaster. 

Those who have lost their mates, their comrades in arms, while fighting for their country, should feel the solidarity and support of their countrymen in that loss, even when we question the justice or wisdom of the conflicts into which they were sent. 

I do not wear the poppy because I think my country always gets it right. I do not wear the poppy because I hate any other country. I wear the poppy as much with horror and shame as with pride, but wanting to say to those who have gone into situations where I have never gone, wearing uniforms and bearing arms and firing ammunition that my taxes have paid for, "Now you are back you are not unthought of or uncared for."

If the poppy is finally subsumed by the "my country, right or wrong" brigade, the "we hate Moslems" brigade, the "darkies/pakis/refugees/cockroaches go home" brigade or even simply the "if you don't wear a poppy you're not a patriot" brigade, I will no longer wear it. But for the moment, it is for remembrance. And it is worn with conscious gratitude to servicemen and women, some of whom fought on my behalf in conflicts that I believe we had no business to enter and where, tragically, our involvement was stupid from the very start. 

The not so mysterious case of the disappearing Jesus

The other morning we listened to a testimony in bed. I have to say that this isn't a daily occurrence... but we did then because someone Sarah knew from the Salvation Army had told their story in a well-known London church and the recording was now available online.

It wasn't short, though it wasn't always very detailed either. But what struck us both was the fact that throughout, the testimony was about coming to rely more and more on God with no mention of Jesus at all. God wasn't described further either - not Father, nor any other name or title - just the rather vague, generic, "God". 

I think this is part of a pattern. Fewer and fewer people seem to focus on Jesus when they tell the story of their spiritual journey. "God" is not identified, and sometimes seems almost impersonal. You might think that "Knowing God" was less a matter of a love relationship and more a question of "Use the force, Luke." 

Why is this? 

I don't think the answer is too difficult. Two things. 

Jesus has disappeared because we don't sing about him. For British Christians - certainly for all Protestants outside the Anglican scene - our hymn book was our liturgy. We have abandoned the hymn book in favour of the projector, and, perhaps oddly, one effect of this has been a massive reduction in the range of songs sung. Critics often focus on problems with particular songs, the "me-focussed-ness", the doctrinal howlers etc. What is not so often noted is how whole meetings can now occur with no sung mention of the name of Jesus. It is frequent these days for times of "worship" to not mention Jesus by name at all, let alone focus on his cross-work or the person of the Son within the Trinity. If our worship has degenerated into "I trust in you because you are so amazing" it isn't surprising that our testimonies are similarly vague and me-centred. 

And Jesus has disappeared because we no longer talk about him. Good sermons in the gospels are rare. Many talks in church are moralistic rather than kerygmatic - they tell people what to do rather than announcing the good news of what God has done. Preaching is no longer placarding Jesus before the people. 

For some Christians, including a substantial number in the Salvation Army, the Bible is no longer seen as one "Word of God" anyway; it is not a unified book with a divine author, but a collection of human writings. A love letter from our wronged Creator has been replaced in the mindset by a fundamentally incoherent, self-contradictory bundle of stories of personal journeys. Of course, the Bible is not less than the account of the faith-journeys of a number of more or less flawed people, but we lose at our peril the notion that it is the one book of God.  Above all we lose out when the idea of the Bible as the word of Christ is effectively abandoned. 

And I think it is that abandonment that is evidenced by the disappearance of Jesus from testimonies. If we preach Christ at all, it is more as "one of us", with his own faith and fragility to the fore (and those elements I am not denying) than it is as the Mighty to Save of whom all the scriptures speak. As a result, who runs to him? And who tells the story of how he saved them? 

I'm praying for a revival - a revival of Jesus in our stories because he is there in our worship and, at its heart, in the ministry of the word. 

Fellowship in the truth

That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. We write this to make our joy complete.

So begins John in his first letter. Much could be and has been said about those verses. The one thing that struck me this morning is how fellowship (with God and with one another) is based in truth, in facts. Things heard, seen, witnessed, touched, believed, proclaimed, written - these are the foundations of togetherness in the Kingdom. 

We live in a world where truth-that-can-be-written is derided as the foundation only for hatred and war. To experience love, we are told, we need to flee from the Objective, the Absolute. John seems to say exactly the opposite. 

And that chimes with my experience. Over the last year I can think of a number of moments of meeting with Christians, both old friends and completely new to me, where the existence of a common foundation in the gospel was either the presupposition for the meeting, or quickly became apparent in the course of conversation. Such moments have been deeply moving and a source of thankfulness. On the other hand, I have also had experiences of 'Christian' events where the commitment to the Subjective, the rejection of objective doctrinal agreement or of verbal revelation itself, strangles fellowship at birth.

Our fellowship is in the Truth. Our fellowship is in Him - the one who came, was heard, was seen, who died for our sins, who rose again for our justification, who is seated at the right hand of the Father, who has poured out the Holy Spirit, who is being proclaimed amongst the nations, who will come again to judge the living and the dead. These truths about our Lord Jesus are objective, speakable, writeable, shareable. These truths are precious to us for he is precious to us. And where there is agreement in these truths, there is fellowship, light and joy. 

Unmoveable?

Adapted from Mike Ovey's excellent EN article here

Teach your people...

Culled from Booth's address: HOW TO COMMAND A CORPS OF THE SALVATION ARMY.
BEING THE SUBSTANCE OF AN ADDRESS TO OFFICERS AT A COUNCIL OF WAR.

Found here.

We must be careful not to worship the Bible...

If a woman is in love with a man, and he writes letters and cards, and she keeps them all in a special place and gets them out and re-reads them carefully many times paying great attention to the wording and the lovely way he writes - does she love the letters or does she love the man? 

And if she reads the letters once and chucks them in the bin, or is always talking about how inconsistent they are, and poking holes, what would we think about her love for the man?

The slightest hint of strong respect for the Bible, the idea that it can actually be viewed (while taking into account the diversity of its human history, genres, language and culture) as One Book with One Author, the notion that this Author may have overruled its production such that it is true and authoritative - I hear all of these being met almost as a routine, knee-jerk reaction with the statement, "We must be careful not to end up worshipping the Bible." 

I think it is a total non sequitur. It just makes no sense. I don't worship the Bible. I never have. I happen to believe in a big, powerful and gracious God who can use sinners to write something that faithfully reveals him, that's all. I'm so thankful that he is so great, and I worship him.