Friday, 24 December 2010

the Evening Before the First Christmas After

I've not been great at blogging, at posting regularly short soundbites on my musings through life. Early resolution is to write more blogs (and shorter blogs, I seem incapable of doing anything but producing essays!). That's the first resolution that I'm going to break within the first week of January I'm sure.

We're all sat round the TV in Eastbourne, the night before Christmas. Riley's asleep upstairs after a day overloaded with attention, Becky's on her iPhone checking facebook and the rest of us are waiting for Nanny McPhee to finish before we can inaugurate the new Christmas 'tradition' of unwrapping a present each on Christmas Eve (we have to make a start on the gifts under the tree there are so many! Something to do with this being Riley's first Christmas may have something to do with that!)

It's a hallmark moment except perhaps for the elephant in the room that looms heavily over the festivities. Dad died just over two months ago now. We talk about him often and relive Christmas activities that remind us of him and help keep his memory alive. He was a wonderful man and we all miss him greatly. We are all the much richer for having had him in our lives. His influence on us, the love and devotion that he showered on us and the direction he led us through life have all left there positive mark on us. They are what enable us to enjoy Christmas moments as a family, happily, with many fond memories in the past and a confidence that there'll be many more happy moments to come in the future. Our future joy and happiness is a tribute to his life and work, it's what he lived to build. We must all make it our goal to pursue joy and happiness in his memory. We truly honour the memory of those who have loved us by living as they led us to live. Life is short and death is never welcome but since we cannot outrun its shadow we must all decide what to do with our time while we have it.

A phrase that I had in my head during the time of dad's funeral was that the measure of a man is what he leaves behind. The last two months have been a perspective check, a staring down the barrel of a gun and asking myself the question 'what and who do I want to be when I look back on my life?' When I have to leave behind those I've loved and have been loved by, what do I want them to say about me?

For me: I'm a follower of Jesus, my saviour and God. You could call me 'Christian', 'religious' 'spiritual' 'deluded?' even but a Jesus-follower is what I shall remain and shall always be. In 2010 he's been there as I celebrated the birth of my son and as I mourned the death of my dad. He has not taken pain away but he has taken me (and is taking me) through it. When I look back on my life I want to be measured against this line 'how closely and faithfully did I follow Jesus?'

My life's priorities are: Christian, husband, father/son/brother, employee in that order. The reason that Christmas is so special is that it combines the first three most important things in my life into one day. Christmas is a chance for me to celebrate the birth of my king and rescuer, it is day in which I'm able to celebrate my wife and express to Amy through giving and serving just how much I love her and it is a chance for me as a dad/son/brother to delight in the wonderful gift of family. That's a good day.

That's why I can enjoy Christmas tomorrow, the first one after my dad's passing. I celebrate the life and upbringing he gave me and I look forward to living as he raised me to live.

Enjoy the ones you love and consider what you want the measure of your life to be.

Happy Christmas

Tuesday, 28 September 2010

The Victory of Death

We all die. Death always wins.

Everyone who’s ever lived has died and everyone who lives now will one day be dead. Some will die young others old, some will die ‘naturally’, others of disease, or of an accident or as a result of an act of violence. Death is always all around us, never more than a few feet away.

It has always been so.

As long as people have lived in the world and observed it, it has been so. In every history book ever written death has had a starring role and it upstages even the most notable of men. From Caesar to Napoleon, Alexander the Great to Michael Jackson, Princess Diana, C.S. Lewis, the Apostle Paul, Cicero and Plato; all dead. Saint and sinner, prince and peasant, we all die.

King David once wrote about ‘the valley of the shadow of death’ when death seems to be close at hand. But it is true for us all; we are all always living under death’s shadow. We ignore it, we run from it, we create medicine to keep it away but it always catches up with us eventually, eventually and suddenly.

We are never prepared for it. Never do we think ‘now you can take her.’ Never do we find ourselves saying ‘I have lived enough, death you are welcome to do your worst.’ We never appreciate death because we know that death cannot be undone, its effects are irreversible and its judgements cannot be appealed against. It is the great leveller that strips us of our pride, our achievements and our shortcomings. Death is no respecter of persons and the moral make up of a man is of no concern to death. The good and the bad die alike.

It has always been and will always be so and yet it seems that death always comes as a surprise to us. Death is all around us and yet still we are caught off guard by it. Death always feels like a cheat as though it doesn’t play by the rules. We feel as though we are entitled to live longer, to live forever.

Recently I’ve been thinking a bit about the people who wrote the Bible. Every book was written by real people who managed to hold to faith in a loving God despite the pain that they had to suffer, despite death’s constant victory. How did they do it? For the Bible writers’ death, suffering and sickness were always all around. Paradise didn’t pen scripture, people did. It wasn’t written by people living a utopian existence; real people who lived in the real world and who experienced real sickness and real hurt, wrote the words we have in our Bibles. Men who knew what it was to lose a week old infant and who suffered rejection at the hands of those closest to them. People who suffered disease and disillusionment alike and who knew how it felt to cry through the night in search of answers and who had felt their world fall apart before them. The Bible writers were soldiers who’d looked their enemies in the eye on the battlefield and who’d watched the grave lay claim to victim after victim. It was written by fathers who’d lost children and by children who’d been abandoned by their fathers; individuals who’d watched mothers die of starvation whilst their children were left to live without anyone to care for them.

The world the Bible was written into didn’t have an NHS, indoor plumbing and central heating. There was no police force patrolling the streets and no guarantee that any of your friends would live beyond their teenage years. In fact their was no such thing as ‘teenage years’ no period of time in between childhood and adulthood, no time to prepare yourself for the world. The world was brutal and abrupt.

The ‘stars’ of scripture all knew what it felt like to be rejected by the world, hated by those closest to them and seemingly abandoned by the God they’d put their hope in. They knew what real hunger felt like, and vulnerability and homelessness and poverty. Theirs was not a world of comfort and warmth and wardrobes full of clothes and fridges packed with food. They wrestled with the same questions we do and they too looked at the world and tried to call its creator to account. They saw the victory of death and the rampant destruction in the world and they asked ‘is anyone in control of this?’

When we stare into the dark and our faith in a loving God seems nothing more than a fairy tale we need to know that we are in good company. The questions we ask and the issues we wrestle with have been asked and wrestled with by every person and every generation that’s ever lived.

Over the next few blogs I’m going to look at three people presented to us by scripture who each give a different answer to the pain of the world. The Bible isn’t full of formulas and it doesn’t pretend that the world is a fair place. Instead it documents the real lives of people who seek to follow God and remain faithful to the revelation of his nature even in spite of what appears to be evidence to the contrary.

The Bible presents a God who doesn’t stand apart from the pain of the world he cannot be accused of not knowing what life is like. Instead the Bible makes perhaps the most outrageous claim that’s ever been made by any religion or philosophy in the history of the world. God, we’re told, became a man. He became one of us. God dressed himself in humanity, with mortality, frailty and weakness. God climbed down, rolled up his sleeves and tackled the problem of pain head on. God went through death and came out the other side.

Seeing this doesn’t remove my pain but it does silence my accusations. Seeing Jesus die a shameful, bloody, gory death in order to identify with me and to see life through my eyes I realise that God cares. I have, we have, a God who understands and who offers to be with us as we walk through this world. This is so outrageous it might just be true.

Saturday, 4 September 2010

The Biographical God

The biographical God

I have often wondered about the existence of God. I have heard compelling arguments on both sides of the fence (and from those sitting uncomfortably on the fence). I agree with people who say that the existence of so much evil and suffering in the world makes it hard to believe in a loving God, it does. Life appears to be random and chaotic. I agree as well that trying to explain something so unexplainable as the workings of a transcendent creator appears an impossible thing to do, and often I think we’re foolish for even trying. If there is a supreme being out there who created everything we see around us then how can we ever expect to understand it/him? We shouldn’t waste our time trying, I’m told. After all how can fish describe what life is like outside of the fish tank? Isn’t that what it’s like when we try to explain God?

But then I don’t believe that scientific and philosophical answers to questions with such practical implications will ever fully satisfy us. We’re after more than fridge magnets and bumper stickers. We’re after fulfilment, experience, happiness and love.

I don’t live my life as a Christian because of the mathematical probability of their being a creator God. I don’t try to follow Jesus’ life and example out of a conviction that his teaching on life was better than any other teaching ever delivered before or since; and I’m not willing to deny myself worldly gain for the sake of a simpler life because of the case for Jesus’ resurrection. All of these things are important contributing factors to why I continue on in faith but they’re not the real reason I believe that Jesus is the Son of God. I trust him and I love him and I live for him, because I know him. I’ve met him, I’ve experienced him, and I’ve seen him at work in my life and in the lives of those around me. His love and his presence fulfil me more than anyone and anything else in the world. I’m a Christian because of pleasure as much as I am because I think it’s true.

I don’t think that many of us live our lives the way we do because of carefully thought through convictions and a commitment to intellectual honesty. Rather I think that the majority of people live the way they do because of what they’ve experienced. They’ve learnt that coffee gives you energy because they drank it and that life is painful because they lost someone they cared for. We all live the way we do because of what we think ‘works’ best. What we see, hear and feel is what drives us more than anything else. ‘Does this work?’ is the question we’re asking more than ‘is this true?’ Of course I’m not promoting experience over truth, but I don’t think ‘truth’ is most people’s starting place, experience is; and neither do I think the two are mutually exclusive. Truth isn’t purely academic or intellectual, it’s existential as well.

Our attitude towards relationships, possessions and the future are all born out of what we think ‘works’ best based on what we’ve seen and experienced. We trust our feelings far more than facts. If someone tells me that God is there and that he loves me, I’m unchanged until I’ve experienced for myself something of his life changing presence, or until I’m given reason to believe that he does in fact love me. In fact not only am I unchanged and unconvinced I’m also prone to disagree depending on what I’ve experienced in my life.

I think that it is for this reason that God has chosen to reveal himself through biography more than anything else.

God could have inspired the Bible writers to write anything he wanted them to. He could have had them write carefully thought out and water-tight cases for his existence. He could have answered every question that people had and he could have given a comprehensive defence as to why he permits death to reign across the Earth. He could have done all sorts of things, but he didn’t. What he did was to have people write a record of how individuals responded to him when they lived in relationship with him. Abraham heard from him and trusted him enough to leave his father’s country, all of his security and protection for the future, and head off in search of the place that God had promised him he’d possess one day. Jacob wrestled with him all night and resurfaced as a changed man, free from the guilt and shame of his past. Joseph understood God’s sovereign purposes and declared to his treacherous brothers ‘what you intended for evil, God allowed for good.’ Moses spoke to him face to face and Samuel heard him whisper his name. David, the king of a great nation, knew what rejection, bereavement and family breakdown really felt like and yet still he declared to all the world that ‘the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want’. Solomon learnt that God never quits on people even when they quit on him, Elijah didn’t understand him but learnt to trust him nonetheless even when his life was under threat, Daniel knew that God was with him even in the midst of a lions’ den and Peter was forever changed by the forgiveness and mercy of his saviour God.

Real people met with the real God. They didn’t meet a theory, they weren’t won over by reason and logic, they met a person. They met the relational creator God and that’s how it was that they could say ‘our God reigns and is king over the whole Earth.’ They trusted him because they met him and they saw how powerful he is. They loved him because they knew that they were loved and chosen by him and they devoted themselves to him because of they’d seen how worthy he is. This is the defence of scripture, this is how God chose to reveal himself to us, through the lives and testimonies of others.

When I’m sitting at church and listening to people I know giving voice to all that God has rescued them from and comforted them through I’m more convinced as to the existence of God than I am at any other time in my life, and people have been giving voice to his goodness and faithfulness for two millennia. The hard questions of life are still there, God doesn’t give me a watertight and entirely comprehensive answer that satisfies all of my deepest aches and longings. What he does do time and again is introduce me to people, real people, who are walking with him in relationship and who are knowing his comfort and strength even through severe trials and difficulties.

God has chosen to reveal himself through the lives and experiences of others and not through the experimenting and discovering of intellectuals. The theories, the reasoning and the mathematics may be helpful, and indeed for those professing belief they are an important justification of our belief to a watching world, but they do not provide the satisfaction our souls are after. At best they give us confidence to knock on the door of the almighty, hopeful that someone will answer, but they will not lead us into the kind of friendship with God that our hearts crave. God is a relational God and has chosen to reveal himself through relationship and testimony.

This satisfies me because I know that it is this that I’m really after. I want something, someone, who will make a difference to my life everyday, every minute of everyday. What I’m after, and I believe what we’re all after is a relationship with a personal God who meets us where we are, isn’t angry with us, doesn’t guilt us or cause us to retreat into ourselves but who invites us out, out of our shells and insecurities, out into life, happy, contented, joyful and resilient life.

This is exactly what Jesus promised to give to his followers: life as you’ve always wanted it.

Monday, 30 August 2010

Unreasonable Response


An unreasonable response to Christianity is apathy. An unreasonable response to the claims of Jesus is indifference.

If there had not been born a man who said what Jesus had said then there’d be no need to respond to him. If there had not been born a man who claimed to die for the sin of the world then we needn’t stop and ask questions. If the tomb that he was buried in had remained occupied then there’d be no Christianity and there’d be no reason to insist upon our engagement with its claims.

Sometimes I do wish there’d not been born a man who said what Jesus said, who died for what he died for and whose followers claimed he’d risen. If there was not and he had not and they did not, then I’d be free to worry not. Reality would be easier to define, there’d be no need for me to wrestle with the invisible world of alternative reality. ‘God’ would be confined to the Greek myths and Jewish histories, and he wouldn’t intrude on my day. Life would be much more neatly packaged and tied down.

If Jesus wasn’t then I could accept this world as dark, cruel and competitive and designed to promote the strong and trample on the weak. If Jesus wasn’t then my sense of justice and morality could be put down as ‘misguided’ and ‘socially conditioned’. I could carry on my own merry little way and not have to reconcile the world’s hurt and pain to the idea of a God who does care, is all powerful and yet doesn’t stop it or respond to like I think he should. If Jesus wasn’t then there’d be no one to answer to, no ‘waste’ of a moment and no transgression to be repentant of.

Jesus was. Jesus did. Jesus is still alive.

The world is a different place from how it used to be. I can never imagine how my life would have turned out had Jesus not have been since Jesus was. The history of the western world, the history of civilisation as we know it is really the outworking of nations and peoples living in the light of an empty tomb in Jerusalem. It changed everything. We have laws, hospitals, hospices, charities, art, institutions and governments that have all been influenced because of a group of people who recognised the enormity of what Jesus’ life, death and resurrection meant.

If Jesus is Lord then Caesar isn’t. If Jesus is truth then secularism isn’t. If Jesus is… then the only response proportionate to his challenge, the only response acceptable, is complete and utter life change. An entire life reorientation is needed to line up with the new order of things. That is the only reasonable response to such a man. Every other response falls short of understanding who Jesus is.