Do No Harm

This weekend is Easter. The pinacle of the week that we call “Holy”. The day in the year when our minds are meant to be focused, taking all the theology mashed into our heads and thinking about the culmination of these words in the actions of a God-man, 2000 years in the past.

It is a week for us to consider our beliefs. Our faiths.

But what if our faith falters? What if this Easter weekend, our questions outnumber our assurances?

When this happens, it can feel like the still small voice of doubt, always lingering in the back of each of our minds can easily burst its banks to become a raging river, threatening to wash it all away.

In that moment, is there anything that will keep us afloat? What will keep my head above the torrent?

Over the past 8 months I’ve spent my Tuesday evenings on a First Aid course, learning the basics so I can hopefully be of some use in the situations I am preparing for, but hoping never happen. One of the first things we learnt was the principle of “do no harm”. If you stumble upon an accident or someone in need, First Aid teaches to “help, or at least, do no harm”.

Were I discover on my death bed that it was all a lie, that everything was false and nothing about this religion I follow is real, I want to know that my life wasn’t wasted. I want to be able to roll my eyes and think "Aww well, no biggie." To know that even though the words I’ve spoken to a God who maybe isn’t there might have been in vain, my actions were not. That those same actions, which were inspired by this faith, have left this corner of the globe a better place.

To know that with my hands I’ve pulled people up from situations bigger than them, giving them hope in themselves if in nothing else. That with my mouth, I have spoken words of encouragement, love and joy into the lives of those surrounding me, words that helped them on the journey of becoming who they could and want to be. That with my time, I have shared my life with people, showing that they matter above other things that could easily crowd in.

Too often as a church or community, I worry we do more harm than good. Become life-suckers rather than life-bestowers. No more.

It is my hope then, that even if the one to whom we pray is not there at all, that we can have done no harm, leaving this world a better place because of the existence of me and you. Going to our graves with the assurance that we have made a difference, that we changed the world for good, whether it be affecting entire nations, or a living room of children, that the generations who come after us will be better people because we were the best we could be.

For this to come to pass though, we need to be people who stop living our faith solely through our mouths. Yes, it is important to speak our beliefs, but in the world we live in, it is just as, if not more, important for us to become a people who show them with our actions and our lives.

Showing people a love and care for one another that is true and good, whether we ultimately discover they came first from the mouth of God, or not.

A Good Friday.

We pick up the story on Thursday night of Holy week. Jesus has just had a memorable meal with his disciples, one where he unfolds to them them what was to come, and explains how they are going to remember what he's about to do. An action that was started at that moment has continued down through the millennia to today, where we still often celebrate and remember what happened there at our very own dinner table at the front of our church and in churches all over the world, many miles and many years from that first dinner table.

After the dinner, as many of us like to do after filling our stomachs, Jesus headed out to a Garden nearby for a walk and talk with his friends. While there, he decided he wanted some time alone to pray, and separated himself from the group spending some time along with the Father. He struggled through prayer, worried about what was to come, but willing.

After returning from prayer, in a whirlwind of activity, Jesus was betrayed by one of his closest followers, and taken into the custody of the high priests.

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One of Jesus' closest followers and friends followed him and the crowd as he was being taken away, sneaking into the courtyard of the high priest where he was being held. It was a cold night, so Peter huddled as close as he dared to the fire, too cold to stay away, but afraid that someone would recognize him as one of the friends and followers of the man who was just arrested. His fears were not without warrant, and a woman pointed at him from across the fire, saying she recognized his face from the group of people with whom Jesus was associated. Peter was quick to deny this connection, but with his very words, his accent gave him away… all heads now turned to look more closely at the man with the Galilean accent who looked oddly like the same Galilean who followed Jesus. Again, his words denied his Lord. More accusations followed, and Peter with sheer fear swore that he did not know the man. At that point, a cockerel started to crow on the other side of the yard, and Peter remembered the words of Jesus that he would deny him three times before the night was out. Words that he had vehemently rejected at the time, never expecting in a million years to have become truth within a matter of hours.

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Meanwhile, indoors, mere metres away from where Peter denied Him, Jesus sat awaiting trial. Before 24 hours had passed, he would have been juggled from judge to judge, between kings and rulers, trying to make sense of why the Jewish aristocracy so desperately wanted this so called "miracle-worker" dead. There was no evidence to support the accusations that were being hurled at him, at least no evidence that was standing up under any scrutiny…and so he was juggled around, until he landed once again at the feet of Pilate. The people were offered an ultimatum. Free Jesus, or a murderer. The people, whipped up into a state of frenzy by the Jewish leaders, chose the murderer to go free, and the One who had never done anything wrong, was sent to be measured for a cross.

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A cross was put upon Jesus and he was forced to carry it to it's resting place. He struggled through the narrow winding streets of Jerusalem as people looked on, jeering and spitting upon his crushed and whipped body. He collapses, and a man, by the name of Joseph is pulled out of the crowd to take the cross upon himself, to help Jesus in his greatest hour of need. Step by step, side by side, they walked towards the hill where Jesus was going to be crucified.

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On that hill, they put Jesus on the cross, and on that cross, Jesus breathed His last. The breath of God was extinguished for us. An incredible image, that the God who created the universe, who set the stars in their place and dug the furrows and pits of the oceans before filling them with water, hung on a cross for one purpose, for us. There was nothing in it for Him, that is the definition of a sacrifice. But on that hill, God died, and He did all that out of love.

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And for this day. That is where the story ends.

Hate

Mark 13:13

“And everyone will hate you because you are my followers”

Have we used this verse to justify harsh words, tones and actions in communicating the Gospel to those around us?

Our methods are often harsh. The hell, fire and brimstone technique and judgemental overtones of ushering people into the kingdom, in my opinion, have done much more damage to the reputation of the faithful than good. Leaving us (even those of us not ascribing to this methods, there are no shades of grey to those on the ‘outside’) as the object of ridicule, if not hatred for those looking on.

But we give as good as we get. Boy, do we know how to do hating well. Hating those who are different from us, despising anyone or thing we see as a threat to our way of life. And of course, if we hate, we can hardly expect kittens and chocolate croissants in return, and so the cycle continues. We hate because they first hated us.

But why did they hate Jesus? Was it not because of his compassion and love for people when it went against the social norms and acceptabilities of the day? For his dinner dates with prostitutes and tax collectors? For being a person of growing influence who came from the wrong post code? For consistently choosing the lift up the humble and tear down the haughty?

Are the real intentions of this verse not that if we are truly following the invitation to follow Jesus, then we will find ourselves on the same level as the lowest of the low, sharing our social status with the outcast?

Despised by the world for who we love, rather than for who we hate.

The D-Word

“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” Romans 7:15 (TNIV)

Once we read this sentence through a few times, allowing a bit of the confusion from the first run through to blow away, perhaps we start understanding just a hint of what Paul is trying to say.

We do the things we shouldn’t. We don’t do the things we should.

That’s what it means. Right?

So often we hear these words taken to emphasize the negative. We say that God is a Being who at the root of it all wants us to stop failing and falling short. We make it about the last part of this verse, and yet we forget, or at least play down the bit preceding.

We make this verse about the ‘sins’ that we keep on committing. The things we continue doing that, we are assured, put us squarely on the naughty list.

But the more I discover God, the more I am become assured that the Santa Claus method might not be his method after all. Perhaps He is not as much as I had once thought about the “don’t do that’s”. A lens, I believe, we have used to view this one version of God for too long.

Instead, the God I long to know more, is One who instead of giving me a list of “dont’s”, instead hands me a list of “why not try’s”.

There are none of us who would say we don’t want to pursue things in our lives. There are none who would say we don’t want to be better employees, friends, fathers, mothers, husbands, girlfriends, or bosses. There are none who would say we wouldn’t want to be better to our bodies. Run more. Smoke less. Eat more of the good stuff. There are none who would say we would turn down an opportunity to do more of what we love, what we feel in our deepest selves we were made for. Pick up a pen and finally write the short story we have always promised ourselves we would, the song that has been lingering on the tip of our tongues for a while, or create something of beauty (or at least of meaning) with our hands. None of us who play a sport who don’t want to get better at it. Don’t want to reach the next level. Compete higher. Get faster, bigger, stronger.

There are none of us who don’t want to move forward in our lives.

And yet, almost all of us at one point or another find ourselves stalled. Find ourselves sitting on our sofas as our lives crystallise around us. Suddenly finding the water of our lives that once rushed past us with such speed and youthful exuberance stagnant and staid.

And that brings us back to the part of the verse we love to hate. The realisation that we are people who do things that aren’t good for us, actions, Paul says, that we hate. The problem with these actions though, is that even though we say we hate them, in the moment of truth we find we really do want to do them and are quite content to give in. They are often the easy way out, the shortcut, the way that brings us the most amount of fun and contentment in the short term.

And that’s the problem. These are all about the short term. The now. And it’s only later that we discover the consequences of our decisions on the longer term goals and tasks we planned and set for ourselves.

We allow these things to come between us and whatever relationship we have allowed or are welcoming to blossom between us and our Keeper and Sustainer.

Maybe when thinking about the things that we know God desires for us, the difference comes in seeing that maybe these aren’t a list of “because I said so” things, but “because they are keeping you from being who you are”. Rather than sucking the life FROM us, this is a list of things to restore life TO us.

But living this life require something of us. The D-word.

Discipline.

The word we avoid as much as we can. Discipline to pull ourselves out of the mould we have left in the sofa, to tear ourselves away from the things we know are not helping us live the lives we want, and choosing to start walking in that direction.

It’s not easy. Living life in the real world is much harder than watching it unfold on a television screen. But the question is, 6 months from now, would I rather be more in the know and up to date on the lives of the characters in the latest sitcom to come out of the US (Finally! An explanation for the "Modern Family" photo at the header!), or be 6 months closer on the journey of discovering who I am, why I was made this way and further on the journey of being a better version of the me I am today. Which one will make me feel more alive? More whole?

And that’s what I think this verse is really about.

Not about the rules. But about recapturing the rhythm of life that we once held in our grasp.

Recognising the costs in the short term, in anticipation and expectation of the gains and rewards in the long term.

Desmond Tutu (From 25-07-10)

This week saw the announcement that Desmond Tutu, the first black South African Anglican Archbishop of Capetown, is going to complete the task of "retiring" that he first began in 1996, and will be withdrawing from his public life.

My first experience of this man, came a few years ago. I was working for a missions organisation with a focus on the art of reconciliation and had come across his name particularly during a week of lectures looking at forgiveness.

I was walking on the street and saw his book "No Future Without Forgiveness" in the window of a charity shop. Intrigued by the title, and the fact I was working in forgiveness initiatives at the time, I took it up to the till to take it home. A South African accent, in the shape of a middle aged woman greeted me there, with a story of how happy she was to see this book go, after watching it sitting in the shop window for weeks. Further discussion uncovered that this woman's mother was a childhood friend of Tutu, who, until her death a few years before, had received a bouquet of flowers from the Archbishop every year on her birthday. Armed now with a book, but also a personal insight into the man behind the legend of Desmond Tutu, I delved in to see what more I could discover of this man.

I inhaled the book, newly convinced (if I wasn't before) and inspired by the importance of forgiveness. But also intrigued by a man who, among a career filled with incredible achievement, crowned it off in his appointment by Nelson Mandela to be co-chairperson of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of SA. Tutu brought a humility and selflessness to the role that another man may have struggled to acheive. Only one such as Tutu could take the helm of such an enormous undertaking leading it, not just to its conclusion, but to the healing of countless individuals lives, and a nation as a whole.

The job of the TRC was to hear stories. To get to the truth of what happened. People would tell the stories of what they had done or what had been done to them, in exchange for amnesty from prosecution. Inevitably, this brought families face to face with murderers and anger could flare up. But thankfully, so did forgiveness.

Many onlookers from the international community may have expected retribution by the oppressed South Africans after the fall of the apartheid regime. After all, they had suffered for decades, in what was considered a modern part of the globe under archaic rules, segregation and division. So, the world stood back in awe of the example of a few men, leaders, who chose instead another way.

Instead of retribution, forgiveness. Instead of the cycle of anger, the choice for peace.

How was it that a few men were able to lead a nation to this forgiveness? For Desmond Tutu at least, he makes it clear that his sole motivation for choosing this path comes only from the one who first forgave us.

Forgiveness was at the heart of Christ's message of Earth, and is at the very core of the Gospel that we preach and live our lives by.

Following the giving of the Lord's Prayer in Matthew 6, it is the verse about forgiveness that Jesus gives extra time to. Explaining exactly what he means by it, and emphasising its importance.

And at the moment of the first appearance of the risen Christ in John 20, when the disciples were locked up tight for fear of reprisals over their connections to Him, it is of nothing less than forgiveness and peace that Jesus chooses to call them to. Of all of the key points and theological arguments Jesus spoke in his 3 year ministry. Forgiveness is the one he chooses to return to at this moment.

I am the first in need of hearing this message of forgiveness. We live in a world where things can be done against us on any given day. I find forgiveness particularly difficult on the road. When I'm cut off, or given attitude in the car by other drivers, that anger, or sense of the need for some sort of justice, can follow me for the rest of the journey, if not the day! It can stew within me, and take control of my feelings. What might have been a good day can quickly become a bad one.

But often the wounds that linger the longest are the ones that come from friends, family, those we trust. We can utter the words "I forgive you" and really mean them in the moment, but the bitterness is not always gone for good. Our work is not complete. Tomorrow, if it flares up again, we have to remember to forgive all over again. It takes remembering every day to really mean those words. Every time hurt feelings and bitterness rise up within us, it's a new choice. Forgiveness is a journey. It is not a single event.

May each of us be on this journey. May we begin to learn how to let go of our bitterness and anger and replace them instead with forgiveness, and love. And may we thank the Lord for examples that we have to guide and to inspire us. Examples such as Desmond Tutu. And may his retirement from the public life be long, leisure filled, and full of the love that he has inspired those around him to.

Reflection on Wimbledon (from 27-6-10)

This week is a world famous suburb on the South side of the city of London, something remarkable happened. Something that has never been seen before, and in the aftermath since, people have claimed, will never be seen again.

A Frenchman and an American, John Isner, and Nicholas Mahut played a Titanic game of tennis, far outstripping anything that has ever been seen before and breaking almost every record in the books.

So far did they exceed the expectations, that the scoreboard on the courtside actually stopped working, as it had only been programmed to reach the maximum score of 47 all. By the end of the match, the comptetitors would have played no less than an additional 46 games.

Such a mammoth task was this, that on watching it, it was clear to see that every last ounce of strength was being sapped from these two men. But still they kept going, playing to see the sun set and time called on not just one, but two evenings.

Sometimes, perhaps we feel like we are at the end of our ropes. Like the situations we face and the worries that we come up against are like this meeting of tennis greats, never going to end. We can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, we can't seem to lift our eyes to even look for a spark of hope. Life can be hard, and sometimes perhaps we long to just be able to bury our heads in our arms and hope that it all goes away.

It can feel like it is taking everything within us to just keep our heads above the water.

Today, we are celebrate the baptism of a child, the welcoming of an individual into the life of the Christian faith. One of my favourite parts of the Anglican baptism service is the following 3 lines:

"Live as a disciple of Christ,
Fight the good fight,
finish the race, keep the faith."

This exhortation to the one we are welcoming into our fold is to keep and embrace the faith he is coming into, but not just that, but to continue in it, struggle through and finish with his faith intact.

This is what it means to be a follower of God. That we persevere. Pushing through limits that even we are unsure we are able to make. Going beyond the expectations of not only ourselves, but those who are watching on.

Thankfully, unlike those two men on the tennis courts, we are not left to push through alone. God has not abandonned us to fight the fight and run our race solo.

In Isaiah 40 it talks about how God is the one who restores the strength of the weary, that for those who hope in the Lord

"they will run and not grow weary, they walk and not grow faint"

This is the hope that we have. That even in our darkest of moments, when it feels like all is said and done, that we can look to the one who brings hope and refreshment in these situations.

May we all know this renewing side to the One who is the lifter of our heads and the refresher of our souls.

The Faceless Multitude

The story of the exodus is a challenge to me.

When I was think about Moses, I try and look beyond the usual, to see that there is a lot more to his story than meets the eye, and there's a big part of it that we leave out completely. We put Moses on the pedestal, honouring him for his faith and for the decision he took to leave all that was familiar and lead a people out of captivity. But we forget that it wasn't just his decision. Exodus 12 v 37 says that "there were about six hundred thousand men on foot, besides women and children", therefore a conservative estimate is that there were at the very least 1.2 million adults there. 1.2 million people capable of making their own decisions.

1.2 million people that Moses had no say over. He could speak to them, tell them of the God who had spoken to him, but what he couldn't do was make them decide to follow.

In some ways, I think the Israelites had the harder job. The harder decision. Moses at least had his experience at the burning bush to fall back on, the knowledge that God had spoken to Him, the assurance that this was all part of a greater plan. But the Israelites were being asked to follow this man. After years of seeming abandonnment by the God who promised he would make them special, create from them a great nation, a crazed man (who, so the rumours said was brought up in the royal palace and disappeared for years under suspicious circumstances...murder if the whispers were to be believed) had returned to the land, with the story of a talking tree posing as the voice of God, and promising redemption and freedom from the slavery that had entangled their ancestors...if they'll only follow him out into the desert. The barren desert they had been looking at for all those years.

Of course, the plagues were going on. The miraculous was taking place under their very noses. That must have counted for something in their minds. But I wonder if they really knew the full extent of what was going on. In a community that large, and without the convenience of our modern mass media, word of mouth is the form of communication. They knew something big was going on, rumours would be circulating, and that this man Moses was somehow at the centre of it. But, unlike us, they were not privy to the private conversations that were taking place inside Pharaoh's chambers. With the blessing of hindsight, perhaps we see this as a "no-brainer" decision, but I'm pretty sure it was a bigger stretch than we care to admit.

Here, in these 1.2 million decisions is where i see faith. Grassroots faith. The stuff that makes these epic Biblical stories memorable. If not for them, Moses would have just been some crazed lunatic shouting in Pharaoh's throne room, walking out into the desert solo. One man exiting Egypt happens every day. 1.2 million is something to write home about.

In the majority of these Biblical stories, we see men and women of faith who meet with God, but who then have to convince a multitude of people that their meeting was genuine, that it was the real deal. And then, as here, it's down to the people to decide, to follow, or not to follow.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone stayed in Egypt. If anyone decided Moses' claims weren't worth the risk.

These men and women were called to live huge stories, to have faith that demanded greater sacrifice than we will ever know, and yet, out of so many million people, we only have the names of a handful. A tiny, miniscule percentage of those who followed.

I like to imagine the image of a person, a man, similar in age to myself, with a family; wife and children. Watch as he walks through the streets of Egypt on his way out, the moment of truth. His family part of a much larger crowd, but an individual. A man choosing to make his own decision. To follow the story and promises of another. I see his feet fall heavy on the ground as he steps out of the buildings of the city and into the open space, every step falling further and further from the place he was born, from the city he, his father and his grandfather have called home. "Is this right? Am i making the right choice? Can I provide for my family?" And yet his footsteps continue forward.

Imagine the exhilaration as he stands in front of the Red Sea. The waters part, and he steps down, not onto wet, marshy land, but DRY land (I love this small detail the Bible give us). Where moments before there was an enormous river, probably not dry in thousands of years, there now was dry land. A miracle, taking them on their journey and delivering them to safety from the oncoming army, but also to convince these 1.2 million decision makers that they were on the right track.



Sometimes I wonder if anyone stayed in Egypt. If anyone decided Moses' claims weren't worth the risk.

Did they hear about the incident at the Red Sea? Did they run to the spot where it was said to have taken place, hoping for a similar miracle, only to realise they have missed their chance. That the decision that they made in haste and with logic cannot be changed. That an ocean now lies between them and the people they assumed would perish within miles of their exit, but now were in freedom while they remained in slavery. I'm sad when i think about the rest of their lives. How they must have pined and wondered for what could have been, if only for one decision, one risk.

It is these 1.2 million decisions i am challenged by. Everyone (although i can only speak for myself) wants to be Moses, wants to be seen for what they do. To get recognition for the decisions they make, especially when they are as incredible and sacrificial as the ones Moses made. But what if that's not my story. What if i'm not the one out of the 1.2 million. What if I'm called to be an obedient follower in a faceless, nameless multitude.

Am i still willing to do it? Still willing to risk everything? Would i be willing to pack up my bags and follow God out of everything I've ever known if i thought no one was ever going to know about it, to look at my sacrifice and say "That's very impressive. You must be very holy."


We are called to live lives that are seeking and hoping for obedience. Not prominence.