The Day of Resurrection (Mustard Seeds 8)

 Ann Nadge, a poet I know, has distilled some of the posts from this blog into poetry. She has used my words verbatim, captured the essence of the post, and moulded it into a poet's vision. 

This poem consists of verbatim fragments from an original post on 19 April, 2025.

 

The Day of Resurrection

The death and resurrection

of Jesus together changed everything.

Jesus died an outcast,

rejected by all, judged a sinner

and worthy of execution.

Without the resurrection,

lost to history - just one more failure,

one more criminal, one more statistic,

lost amongst the dead of history.

 

The resurrection changed this -

If the 'Jesus thing' is only

about the resurrection,

why does the risen Jesus have nail holes?

The cross and its meaning cannot

be divorced from the resurrection -

God's "Yes!“ against human sin,

the nail holes in the body of Jesus,

part of the Christian revolution,

forgiveness through repentance.

 

Jesus died out of love for us,

death initiated, ended in love.

Human failure is judged -

It is love that judges, love that saves us.

The constancy of love demands

nothing more, or less than love,

disciples of that constancy.

Reflection on Forgiveness (Mustard Seeds 7)

 Ann Nadge, a poet I know, has distilled some of the posts from this blog into poetry. She has used my words verbatim, captured the essence of the post, and moulded it into a poet's vision. 

This poem consists of verbatim fragments from an original post on 13 February, 2021.

Reflection on Forgiveness.

 

As we head to forgiveness

and grow into the full stature of Christ….

Where am I in all of this?

Am I ready to 'die' to whatever

has brought me to be so offended?

Not a call to attack oneself, rather,

an invitation to self-understanding.

 

Sometimes there is a remainder -

no simple forgetting, no easy

moving on as though it 'doesn't matter'.

When understanding, empathy,

do not cover the sin, we have

entered the realm of forgiveness,

its asymmetry, not deserved,

not earned, not a reciprocal

coming down off our high horses

and meeting somewhere in the middle.

It is full of grace. 

 

Forgiveness costs us-

reconciliation where there is

human alienation, is neither easy nor cheap.

Grace is always costly. We should not

separate the two, cross and resurrection.

The forgiving victim of sin

offers forgiveness and sends disciples

to proclaim repentance, forgiveness of sins.

This is God and God's way:

complete embrace of what is not divine,

bringing reconciliation.

On God’s Love, Spiritual Discipline and the Freedom of Patience (Mustard Seeds 6)

Ann Nadge, a poet I know, has distilled some of the posts from this blog into poetry. She has used my words verbatim, captured the essence of the post, and moulded it into a poet's vision. 

This poem consists of verbatim fragments from an original post on 2 September, 2021.

On God’s Love, Spiritual Discipline  and the Freedom of Patience

There is nothing God is withholding,

waiting for us to earn.

Everything is given – what more

can there be than the love that is God?

What God has done in Jesus

and given in the Spirit

is working its way through our lives

and the whole of creation. 

 

To live into what has been bestowed

requires new habits of thought and feeling,

practising the spiritual disciplines, the sense

of the presence of God to blossom -

new habits of awareness and gratitude,

not always intense discipline,

but a freedom and patience

that waits for God in our lives,

the presence of God unveiled

now and in our past. After all,

joy can’t be manufactured

it is a gift.

Comments on the Readings for Easter 4C

 Acts 9:36-43 

Earlier in Acts, Peter had great success in turning the hearts of his Jewish listeners to Jesus through his first speech. (Acts 2:37-42) then Peter visits the coastal plain and heals a man named Aeneas and, through this healing, converts a whole area, “who turn to the Lord.” (Acts 9:32-35) So, through word and action, the Christian mission is expanding among the Jews of Jerusalem and the surrounding region. Our reading follows this story of the healing of Aeneas, with Peter responding to a cry for help. In our story today we gain a glimpse of the humanity of those involved in the story. Often, as in the case of the healing of Aeneas, the narration of the miracle is terse and to the point. And because of this, we often miss that a healing or other miracle like this comes after a tragedy that deeply affected those around. (Not only the one healed.) And because the story is usually told so matter-of-factly, we miss the human element. But in this story, we are provided a window into the grief of ordinary people. We are told of Tabitha’s good works, and those who grieve show Peter the evidence of this. They loved this woman. After she dies, they lay her in an upstairs room. (As was the custom.) We glimpse a real life here. And through Peter, Jesus gives her life. (It is important to note that Peter does not have life in himself – the power is that of Jesus.) 

Rev 7:9-17 

Immediately prior to the section that we are reading, the tribulations of history are in full swing. (Rev 7:1-8) But there is a short respite before the tribulations continue, to allow time for the servants of God to be marked and sealed on their foreheads. And the number who were sealed were 144,000, with 12,000 from each of the twelve tribes of Israel, including, significantly, the ‘lost tribes’ of Israel. (See Jeremiah 31:8) This number, constituted by multiples of the symbolic number twelve, represents the fullness of the reconstituted and renewed people of God. “Israel” is first used in Revelation here at verse 4; the chosen ones are gathered and sealed with the blood of the Lamb. Another, and final, Exodus is underway in the vision. And then we arrive at our reading today. John sees a vast multitude, too great to count, from every nation and language. (Interacting with Genesis 11:1-9; Acts 2:1-11) While it might seem confusing that there are two accounts of the redeemed, they play into each other. The vocation of Israel (see Genesis 12:1-3) is fulfilled in the renewed twelve tribes of Israel, called from every nation and language. (And we are reminded of Jesus calling twelve Apostles to symbolise the renewed twelve tribes of Israel, and through these apostles, the renewed people of God would include Jews and Gentiles.) We are still witnessing the liturgy of heaven. The people of God are worshipping at the throne, with robes and palms reminiscent of worship in the (recently destroyed) Temple in Jerusalem. We are told that the worshippers have come through the great ordeal, purified by the blood of the Lamb. John is giving his listener/reader (including us) a vision of ourselves with God and the Lamb in the kingdom (to come, yet also strangely here). In this Kingdom there will be no more tears, and the Lamb will guide us to “springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” This is the message: Rejoice and have confidence that God is working on our behalf for the fulfillment of the Kingdom. 

 

John 10 :22-30 

What do you use to identify who and what God is? One ancient way is by the things that God does. If the one you are identifying as God carries out these functions, then that one is God. In John’s Gospel, the author demonstrates that Jesus is God because he carries out these functions. There are a number of functions that only God can execute. For example, life-giver, creator, and judge. Filling out life-giver a bit, we might say that God is source of all life. Not like a prophet who raises the dead in the name of God, but someone who has life in himself, the sheer livingness of God as their own possession. This is Jesus. A classic passage where Jesus identifies himself as possessing life in himself is John 5:25-26. (See also John 10:17-18; 11:25-26.) And this also touches on God as creator, the one who gives life to everything that lives. (See John 1:1-4) And another function of God is protection, because God is greater than all else. These two, life and eternal protection, are the central point in today’s Gospel reading. Jesus says that he, the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep, will give his sheep eternal life. And, just as no one will snatch his sheep out of his hand (not like the hireling of John 10:1-10), no one can snatch the sheep out of his Father’s hand because the Father is greater than all, even death and sin. Therefore – and this is the climax - Jesus and the Father are one. (John 10:30) We can trust Jesus, for he is the very Word of God made flesh. (See John 1:1-5, 10-18.) All that Jesus is he has received from the Father through self-giving love: God’s sheer livingness, judgement, life and protection to share with creation. And Jesus the Son loves the Father, and in that love gives his life in obedience to the Father’s desire for our good, our life, our eternal life. (John 3:16)

The Triple Revelation of the Cross (Mustard Seeds Poetry 5)

 Poetry by Ann Nadge, inspired by the post (April 17, 2025), The Cross of Jesus: A Reflection on Love, Judgement and Obedience (Part 2).

 

“Behold humanity!". This is what 

we do to each other, and this is what 

we have made ourselves into. Our fall is revealed in the flesh 

of one of us, Jesus Christ. 

 

This is a double revelation: 

God so loved the world 

that he sent his only Son. 

In Christ God suffers and dies 

at the hands of sinners 

to show us who and what we are. 

There is a third revelation: 

In the crucified Jesus, who dies for love, 

we see our true humanity, 

distorted humanity in his wounds. 

His wounds (the price of love) 

reveal to us the love that is 

our true calling. We are invited 

to look at the cross, the revelation 

of love and our need of God's healing love, 

to be set on the path of faith. 

 

 Look and live. We see what we are 

in the broken body of Jesus; 

we see on the cross the true 

humanity to which we are called - 

A faithful humanity, obedient 

to the loving will of God 

for the sake of others.

The Resurrection of Jesus (Mustard Seeds Poetry 4)

 Ann Nadge, a poet I know, has distilled some of the posts from this blog into poetry. She has used my words verbatim, captured the essence of the post, and moulded it into a poet's vision. This is the fourth of more to be published over the course of the year.

This poem consists of verbatim fragments from an original post on 27 April, 2008.

 

 

The Resurrection of Jesus

 

The resurrection of Jesus 

is a unique event, 

without precedent in history. 

The resurrection of Jesus 

is not to be justified 

by historical precedent, 

as though to be ordered to the past 

to gain credibility. 

 

It is the other way round – 

In the Christian scheme of things 

History is ordered to the resurrected Jesus. 

The resurrection of Jesus 

is the future come to meet us. 

The resurrection of Jesus 

is God's action in breaking us out 

of the cul-de-sac of history, 

why faith in the resurrected Christ 

is liberating.

Resurrrection: A Reflection on Love, Judgment, and Obedience (Part 3)

 The Day of Resurrection

The cultural artefacts produced in the West because of the death on a cross of a Jewish man 2000 years ago is astounding. Art, poetry, literature, sculpture, Cathedrals, the rules of war, human rights, freedom of speech, secular space, the rise of Western science, and not to mention the Christian religion itself, are products of faith in Jesus of Nazareth, crucified and risen. It's easy to forget how much we stand on this legacy of Christianity in Western culture. And we forget what the Christian revolution meant to the pagan world around it. It was a revolution. And that is part of why the fading of Christianity - with its dead, pathetic, crucified Lord on a cross - is not recognised as the civilisational catastrophe that it is by very many people. (Although we'll have to wait and see what happens in the West - something is afoot, and I'm not being nostalgic here.) The general contemporary atheist of the West (e.g. the "New" Atheists of not that very long ago) seems ignorant of the original revolution and its continuing benefits and cultural richness. You probably have to go back to Nietzsche to find the atheist who understood that with the cultural death of God (and he meant Christianity) everything people assumed morally would vanish. There would be no reason to continue the accepted moral standards of the West, and instead, all would be negotiated by power (i.e. down the barrel of a gun).

The death and resurrection of Jesus together changed everything. Jesus died an outcast, rejected by all, judged a sinner and worthy of execution. And without the resurrection this is how he would have been lost to history: just one more failure, one more criminal, one more statistic, and then lost amongst all the other dead of history. But the resurrection of Jesus changed this. The resurrection is God's 'Yes!' to the sin that crucified Jesus. And although the resurrection of Jesus is about life after death, on its own this is too narrow an understanding. If the 'Jesus thing' is only about the resurrection, why does the risen body of Jesus still have nail holes? It's because the cross and its meaning cannot be divorced from the resurrection. The death is rolled up into his resurrection. These two features of the death and resurrection of Jesus - God's "Yes!' against human sin and the nail holes in the resurrected body of Jesus - were significant facets of the Christian revolution. However, why didn't Christianity end up a religion of revenge? That is, a movement of God's revenge for crucifying the Lord, directed at all sinners? Instead, Christianity is a movement (from its inception) of forgiveness opening up a way for forgiveness through repentance. Why forgiveness? Revenge is the usual human way.

 The reason is because Jesus died out of love, for us, without the self-righteous anger of the movements of change peppering all of human history. And he died in obedience to the one he called Father. And the Father sent the Son into the world out of love for us. And in this death initiated and ended in love, human failure (sin) is judged. It is love that judges us. And it is love that saves us. To follow the well worn path of revenge would be to betray the very reason for Jesus and deny the God who sent him. That is why Christianity is not a religion of revenge. The constancy of love (see Parts 1 & 2) demands nothing more (or less) than love. And we are disciples of that constancy of love.

The Death of Jesus (Mustard Seeds Poetry 3)

 Ann Nadge, a poet I know, has distilled some of the posts from this blog into poetry. She has used my words verbatim, captured the essence of the post, and moulded it into a poet's vision. This is the third of more to be published over the course of the year.

This poem consists of verbatim fragments from an original post on 31 March 2021.

 

 The Death of Jesus

At the last supper Jesus gives 

a portion of bread to his betrayer- 

Is this an act of forgiveness, 

an offering of his body? 

One can't help feel the poignancy 

the moment, Jesus' world collapsing 

and he offers the bread to Judas, 

makes his way to Gethsemane. 

 

He needs his friends as his world darkens. 

They fall asleep. 

 

"Take this cup from me ..." 

The God who has been responsive, silent. 

 

Where will this end? 

On the cross, with loud crying, lament, 

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" 

I feel our common humanity- 

know something of anguish, suffering.

The Cross of Jesus: A Reflection on Love, Judgement, and Obedience (Part 2)

 Good Friday

Judgement is less like the teacher telling you off and more like Jesus on the cross. 

 Jesus is on the cross out of love. Jesus on the cross condemns the sin that crucified him. In his innocence (Lk 23:47), sin is unmasked and its true nature shown: the absence of love. (And the darkness could not overcome it. Jn 1:5)

But this judgement is also a revelation. When Pilate brings Jesus out to the crowd he says, "Behold the man!" Or is could just as easily mean, "Behold humanity!"  This is what we do to each other, and this is what we have made ourselves into. Our fall is revealed to us in the flesh of one of us, Jesus Christ. But this is more than a revelation of who and what we are. This is a double revelation: who and what we have made ourselves into to be able to do this to one another, and also a revelation of God. 

"God so loved the world ..." (Jn 3:14)

Yes, God so loved the world that he sent his only Son. In Christ God suffers and dies at the hands of sinners to show us who and what we are. Christ's death wasn't a miscalculation or a mistake on God's part, to be corrected at the resurrection. Christ loved his own to the end - to the point of death on a cross - to simultaneously reveal the depths of God's love and our need for a saviour.

  But there is a third revelation. In the crucified Jesus, who dies for love, we see our true humanity. He revealed to us our distorted humanity in his wounds. Now his wounds (the price of love) reveal to us the love that is our true calling as humans.

Today we are invited to look at the cross. It is the revelation of love and our need of God's healing love. To look at the cross of Jesus this way is to be set on the path of faith and of healing the great need within us. Look and live. We see what we are now in the broken body of Jesus; but we also see on the cross the true humanity to which we are called: A faithful humanity, obedient to the loving will of God for the sake of others.

Let Us Love One Another: A Reflection on Love, Judgement, and Obedience (Part 1)

 Here is the first of three reflections used at Easter with a theme of love, judgement, and obedience. (Using John's Gospel as the prism to refract the light revealed to us in the cross and resurrection of Jesus.)

Maundy Thursday 

"Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end." (Jn 13:1)

 Jesus' walk to the cross wasn't a misjudgement on his part, or a miscalculation on the part of the Father, or the act of someone stuck between self-giving and self-flagellation. It wasn't the result of despair or frustration. The death of Jesus was the result of love. (Love on the part of Jesus - malignant violence on our part.) Jesus loved his own to the end. His death was for us and our good. 

 

And the death of Jesus was also because of his love for the Father. Jesus' love of the Father, shown in his obedience to the divine will, took him to the cross. (Jn 14:31; 15:9-10 ) But the cross was not only the result of Jesus' love of us and his love of the Father. The Father's love for the cosmos was the source of the Father's sending of the Son for our sake. ("For God so loved the world ..." Jn 3:16) And because of this constancy of love we know that God is love (1Jn 4:7-12, 16), the light of love. And although the darkness tried to overcome the light (Jn 1:5), we know that God is light in whom there is no darkness. (1Jn 1:5) 

 

Jesus symbolised his act of love and service on the cross in the washing of the disciples' feet at the Last Supper. Footwashing, the work of a slave, parallels the Son who emptied himself, taking the form of a humble slave, being obedient even to the point of death on the cross. (Phil 2:5-11)

 

But the footwashing is also about being washed by Jesus.  Peter could not conceive of his Teacher and Lord washing his feet. But it is because Jesus washes our feet/is crucified for us that he is our Lord and Teacher. (See Luke 23:35-38) And in this 'washing' we find the way to salvation. (Jn 6:68; 13:8; 14:6)

 

And our response? Jesus invites us into the constancy of the love of the Father and the Son through faith in him. (Jn 1:12; 11:25-26; 20:30-31) And we abide in this love of Father and Son through obedience to Jesus' command - to love one another. (Jn 13:34-35; 15:12-17) In this love we will know the Father's love, just as we will know the love of Jesus, the Son, and abide in their love. (Jn 14:21-24; 17:20-24) And with the presence of the Paraclete - another Advocate - within us, we will testify to the truth (of this constancy of love) and  receive all that the Father and the Son share. (Jn 16:13-15) And in this testimony we know the future: the glory of the love of Father and Son, abiding with us now, and eternally. (Jn 16:13) 

So let us love one another. To love one another is the master key to unlock the mystery of the cross and resurrection of Jesus. To love one another is the fruit of the cross and resurrection of Jesus. To love one another is to love Jesus and share in his love of the Father, and to enjoy their mutual presence of love in our lives. So, let us love one another.

Deeper Into Sin to be Freed (Mustard Seeds Poetry 2)

 

Ann Nadge, a poet I know, has distilled some of the posts from this blog into poetry. She has used my words verbatim, captured the essence of the post, and moulded it into a poet's vision. This is the second of more to be published over the course of the year.

This poem consists of verbatim fragments from an original post on 8 April, 2022.

 

Deeper Into Sin to be Freed

During Easter we are invited 

to 'walk' the path of the saviour- 

we read the story from Gethsemane 

to tomb in dramatic form; we take 

parts other than the role of Jesus. 

We walk the road from Gethsemane 

not out of guilt, an excuse 

to self-recriminate…. 

Nor do we grovel as we walk 

a religious version of a show-trial. 

Nor is the journey chastisement 

catharsis, some kind of pagan festival. 

 

Christians walk the Via Dolorosa 

as sinners in need of a saviour, 

to get off the see-saw, 

self-recrimination, criticism of others. 

Walking the way of the cross with the saviour 

brings with it freedom, 

because we are loved, 

that's the point of the Jesus thing – 

we don't have to hide from our sin. 

We don't have to be in the centre- 

we can let God be the centre 

and receive God's love and forgiveness, 

renewal and freedom.

Lazarus (Mustard Seeds Poetry 1)

Ann Nadge, a poet I know, has distilled some of the posts from this blog into poetry. She has used my words verbatim, captured the essence of the post, and moulded it into a poet's vision. This is the first of more to be published over the course of the year.

This poem is from an original post on 28th March 2020 that was written at the beginning of COVID-19.

 Lazarus, a figure of conversion 

life of discipleship, moves 

from life to death to a life given back. 

So too, we move deeper 

into God’s love - movement 

from life to death to a life renewed 

in daily dying and rising with Christ. 

We die to the false self, in Christ 

receive a renewed sense of self. 

Imagine Lazarus smelling the roses 

after he was raised, living the gift 

of life despite the dark times. 

We too are called to smell the roses 

for we have gained our lives, 

not lost them. 

 

Whatever cross you bear 

there is a flower on your path 

just waiting to be noticed. 

Live the gift of life given back, 

live it as the gift it is.

Lent is a Season of Repentance

 Lent is the season of truth. And this through repentance. And by repentance I don't mean the human effort to clear the decks of the bad things we have done so we can have a relationship with God. That would mean that we don't need God when we are at our lowest. The Gospel is that we are saved at our lowest ebb. That's why it is grace and why it is freedom. But, if Lent is the season of repentance, does that mean we are spending six weeks finding misdemeanours to repent of? That's part of it, of course, but that sounds more like the work of private or congregational confession and absolution. So repentance is the confession, with a truly penitent heart, that "I did this."  But it is more also. Repentance includes digging down and recognising and acknowledging who we truly are. What we really are like. Deep down. In our fears. In our malice, in our egotism, etc. To be able to say, at the end of Lent, "So, I'm like this" is the goal. 

So repentance is also about who we are, not just what we did or didn't do. Perhaps even more about the who rather than the what. And in recognising who we are, we touch our deep need for God and who God is calling us to be. (There is a parallel here to sin as not just actions or omissions. Sin also refers to the distortions that live in me that need healing.) And, so, this is why Lent is about the truth. The truth about ourselves. (And remember, we do this with God's love and acceptance with us now, as we come to face the truth.) The one who God desires is you and me, as we actually are, not a fictionalized version. Let us reacquaint ourselves with our true self this Lent.

Dust and Ashes

 We begin the Lenten journey on Ash Wednesday. Prior to the day, we burn the palm crosses left over from Palm Sunday the year previous. The palm crosses, before they are made into ash, remind me of the rejoicing at the coming of the Messiah into Jerusalem. And yet, a few days later, the same crowd are baying for the blood of Jesus.  The hopes of the crowd turn have turned to dust and ashes. Or perhaps they are just fickle like crowds can be. Or perhaps it was malice, envy, scapegoating, or betrayal that turned them. Any number of these all too plentiful human realities explain the change in a those few short days. Death will turn us to dust and ash, but we invariably turn so much goodness in our lives into dust and ash well before death. So the ash points us to our mortality. We are dust and ash. To be marked with the sign of the cross in ash is to acknowledge this deep need.

Come Easter Day we will celebrate resurrection. He is risen! But first, we connect at ever deeper levels with our need. Unaided, we cannot save ourselves. We wait in the ash of the frailty of our humanity and our lives for that new life that death could not hold. (And sin could not stop.)

My Grace Is Sufficient For You (2Corinthians 12:9)

So, Scripture thinks that human contrivance – whether wealth, intellect, family, honour, or longevity – is a problem. But … not in itself. It is a problem when human contrivance drives us, forms us, and replaces God. What’s the alternative? It is tempting (I use this word deliberately because this is a temptation to be resisted) to think that we have to renounce human wisdom, wealth, planning, etc. As though it is either one or the other, and because human ingenuity is bad we need to evacuate all human agency from our lives to let God do the planning and ingenuity instead. Either one or the other.  But it just isn’t true. To think it is either us or God is using the same currency/coin in both cases. They are just on either side of the coin. 

As disciples of Jesus we renounce all false gods, including human will and ingenuity, wealth and intelligence that is not in the service of the kingdom. But, the kingdom needs our intelligence, ingenuity, wealth, etc. The problem is not human ingenuity, planning, and wisdom. Of course, the problem is when we replace God with human agency, ingenuity, wisdom, etc. But the more relevant problem might be that we try to use human ingenuity and intelligence to make sure that we don’t let human ingenuity and intelligence replace God in our lives! And that’s why this is harder than it seems. So what is the solution? It is to be rebuilt differently than the simplistic one or the other approach. We want to be people who live out of a heart that hears, "my grace is sufficient for you.” And we do that not by trying hard to stop misusing our wills, intelligence, and ingenuity, but by surrendering to God’s sufficiency. It is the hard work of grace. Of being remoulded into Christ. We do this through all the ways the Christian tradition has learnt and now teaches us. And this way includes scripture, prayer, liturgy, and doing all this in a community of faith. But to do it with intent. Not too seriously, but with intent. Human ingenuity, no matter how spiritual, will not pull us into grace. It is because God’s grace is sufficient that my human will and ingenuity can be pulled into grace. The currency, if you like, is the sufficiency of God's grace. This is the centre that God wishes to build within us and within the church.

Luke 21:5-19(36)

 "Teacher, when will this be ... ?" (21:7)

And the first thing Jesus says is telling us not to be misled. (21:8) In response, Jesus doesn't go into a discussion about the sign of the end. He does that next, but first, he tells his disciples not to be led astray. It is only after warning us not to be misled that Jesus speaks a little about the signs. (21:9-11; 25-28) And notice that when he does speak of the end how very general these signs are. Despite the tendency for some to equate a conflict or natural disaster with the end, Jesus makes it difficult to correlate events in history and the end by speaking in general terms of the end. But then he says,

"But before all this occurs... "

And he mentions two sets of occurrences to occur before the end, that is, they are not signs of the end. The first is persecution. (21:12-19) By the time of Luke, this has/is happening. And the other is the siege of Jerusalem by the Romans. (21:20. Compare Mark 13:14) Again, by the time of Luke this is most likely in the past. So Jesus is explicitly separating out these dateable events (persecution and siege) from the more generalised signs earlier mentioned. That these events have taken place strengthens the prophetic credentials of Jesus. But it also gives us an added warning against too easily correlating earth-shattering events in history, in our society, or in our lives with 'the end'. 

So what does Jesus recommend instead of being led astray? 
Do not be terrified … (21:9)
By your endurance, you will gain your souls… (21:19)
Do not let your hearts be weighed down with the worries of this life … (21:34)
Be alert at all times … (21:36)
Praying … (21:36)

A Certain Ruler (Luke 18:18-30)

 This certain ruler must have been quite excited when Jesus said, "There is still one thing lacking." Great, only one thing! After a life of disciplined obedience to the commandments, maybe the ruler might be able to work himself into eternal life?

This passage reminds me of Luke 17:5-6.  "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed ... (you could do the miraculous). Just that little bit of faith is all we need? Really? Surely we can do that. No, that's the point. We can't manufacture even that little bit of faith ourselves. It's a gift.  The 'one thing lacking' (Lk 18:22) in our passage also seems impossible. Yes, that's right. It is impossible for mortals ... but possible for God. It is a gift. Peter and the others have received the gift. (18:28-30) The ruler leaves despondent because he doesn't get it. An impossibility for him but not for God. (18:27)

The God of the impossible. By Luke 18, we are late in the Gospel of Luke, and Jesus is nearing his journey to Jerusalem, where he will be rejected and killed. And raised. The impossible is possible for God. In other words, it is all grace. Or, to use the language of the death and resurrection of Jesus, it is resurrection all the way through. God doesn't meet the little bit we have done (the mustard seed, the one thing) and top it up. It's grace through and through.

Pharisee and the Tax Collector (Luke 18:9-14)

 This parable is classic Jesus and stands as a warning to the critical spirit that lives in us and can take over if not combated. And it is entirely consistent with the biblical warning to beware the self-righteousness that can become the foundation of our identity.

This parable provides us with a classic example of finding a (false) identity by not being someone else. (vv 11-12) The Pharisee, critical of others, is grateful that he isn't a sinner like ... (See Phil 3:4-11)  And finding one's (false) identity isn't much better if it is found in one's own righteousness. And even if a sense of righteousness isn't accompanied by a conscious rejection of others, the rejection is there by implication. And some people internalise either criticism by others or the righteousness of others. Their identity of self-rejection is formed not by the God who redeems but by the criticism and/or self-righteousness of others. Whatever the case, these identities are all false. 

Imagine a society built on the Pharisee of this parable, where identity is formed and maintained by self-righteousness and criticism of others. It would be a burden because a false identity that needs to pull others down or needs to puff oneself up is like a drug and can never be fully sated. Such a society would eat itself in a flurry of criticism, self-righteousness, and virtue signalling. (Gal 5:13-15)

The sinner in the parable has a different foundation. He looks to God, the God who forgives and does not rely on the criticism of others or any alleged personal virtues. He looks to personal transformation. Imagine a society built on this foundation. It would be a society that builds up rather than pulls down. (1Thess 5:11) Inner change, not just thinking everyone else is the problem.  This is (part of) what we are called to be as church. Our foundation is Christ, the one who died as a victim of just such criticism and self-righteousness. We look to personal transformation (new covenant, the law written on our hearts) and bearing one another's burdens (Matt 11:28-30; Gal 6:2-3), not adding to the burden.

Middle Anglicanism (Part 1)

I grew up in what I call Middle Adelaide Anglicanism. This church is what I call Middle Adelaide Anglicanism. There are still lots of churches like this. And not just in Adelaide, all over Australia Anglican churches and Anglicans would see themselves as in the middle, or perhaps moderate. 

'Middle' doesn't mean grey, doesn't mean wishy-washy. The middle isn't defined particularly by the content of the belief held. You can find the exact content of belief in the middle as you can on the edges and extremes. This is very important: the middle isn't defined particularly by the content of its belief. I can hold the same beliefs as a sectarian on the edge of Anglicanism, and yet still be counted as Middle Adelaide Anglican. 

What puts a church like this in the middle and not on the edge or the extremes is humility and patience with our failings, combined with a willingness to be with those who might hold differing views within the recognisable Anglican Church. We seek our unity beyond particular views of purity. Our unity lies in Christ, and we negotiate that in faith knowing that our knowledge is partial, and this changes how we interact with each other. Discussion and argument, as well as listening, occur in the middle. And the middle can resist the sectarians, with all the force of persuasive speech and theology, and a good dose of common sense. 

 So if we can't distinguish the extreme by content, then what distinguishes the edge from the middle? Here are my suggestions of characteristics of the extremes no matter the content. 

 1. A tendency toward name-calling of all kinds against those who are not pure enough. 

2. The strengthening of the 'tribe' via the rejection of others and, therefore, a tendency toward fragmentation. 

3. An intolerance toward dissent and a willingness to silence opponents. 

 4. A lack of imagination to be able to see nuance and complexity, and a preference for 'you are either for us or against us.' In a similar way, sectarians tend to use universals (terms and phrases applying to more people than just their group), define these universals in their own exclusive manner, then exclude everyone else from being included in the universal. (It's a an old trick.)

5. A lack of humility coupled with self-righteousness, often cloaked in the particular language of morality used by that particular tribe. 

 Notice there is nothing in the list that is content of belief. It's a list about sectarianism that crosses all lines of particular beliefs. I say this because of the news this week, picked up by newspapers and inflamed by commentators of the other extreme, that a formal avenue of fragmentation has now been constituted called The Diocese of the Southern Cross. As I understand it, it will provide for those who consider themselves situated in an impure geographical diocese, a means to align themselves with the self-proclaimed purity of the self-designated Diocese of the Southern Cross. It is, as the Primate has said, the beginnings of a new denomination. The issues have been simmering for decades now. The break has come over the issue of same-sex marriage and the blessing of such.

The trigger, it would seem, was the recent General Synod where insufficient purity was displayed for those intent on breaking away. Mind you, the definition of marriage remains unchanged for the Anglican Church of Australia. Marriage is still defined as between a man and a woman. And yet, here we are. 

However, I wouldn't want anyone to think that I believe the sectarian puritans are to be found in only a single manifestation. In the way these things always operate, puritans are to be found opposing each other. Holding diametrically opposing views in terms of content but united in their dismissal of each other. This is how this works, with both sides gaining oxygen from their opposition to the other side. And you could be forgiven for thinking that the identity of each is to be found in that opposition, despite denials to the contrary. Of course, both extremes will say that they are the faithful ones. That's the point for them. They will use different language, of course. One side will talk about being 'godly' in a way that (ironically) fractures the Body of Christ, while the other side will talk about 'inclusion' and 'justice' in a way that (ironically) excludes those who are not pure enough. Neither side seems to notice the irony in both their positions. 

 When I was ordained the factions in the church were seen (mostly) as helpful because they provided a balance within the church. A grudging acceptance that the particular focus of a faction could benefit us all. But that seems to have passed us by, at least for the moment. 

And here we enter the missionary ground for Middle Adelaide Anglicanism. We live in a sectarian age, and a church that can model and teach how to avoid sectarianism has a mission within the church and the world around. Plenty of people have seen through the sectarianism (wherever it is found, and there is plenty around, and not just in the church) but don't know what to do. Some join the edge because of similarity in belief. Some join one of the edge factions because they find some affinity but are alarmed by the perceived extremism of the opposing faction. Whether people join an edge group or align themselves with such a faction in some way, the point is to remain in the middle. (Remember, the middle is not about unanimity or purity of belief.) Let's not naively be pulled into the full agenda of the faction. (It's fine to do so, but let's all show a little more discrimination than that.) Let's practice grace toward those who disagree, even if (you believe) they don't. 

 As one approaches the edge, the stronger the characteristics of sectarianism appear. But extremes live in us all. There is a discipline that needs to be learned to heal the tribalism in us. There is a discipline that needs to be learned and practised to avoid being sucked deeper into the vortex of sectarianism, tribalism, and puritanism that is sweeping the Western world, including the Anglican Church. A traditional church knows this. It is what we have been doing for a long time. Come to a traditional church and expect to rub shoulders with people who hold different opinions than you. Come and learn to seek a higher unity than unanimity of opinion. So let us continue to practise this discipline of middle Anglicanism in humility and with a desire to live the truth of the Gospel in our lives, and through our discipleship offer a path different from the sectarianism of the age.

Trinity Sunday Year C (Part 2)

In our baptism, joined in hypostatic union with the Son who stood abandoned for us, space is found for us to regain our identity as children of God, united with the Father through the Spirit.

The Gospel of John can seem a bit confusing at times. It's because the language reflects the union of the three figures of the divine story, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. (You can think of God as a story or a movement of love, into which we are inducted through baptism, sharing in God's life.) Take todays' Gospel reading:

He will glorify me because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you. (John 16:14-15)

The three - Father, Son, and Spirit - are so intimately connected to one another that to speak of one leads to the others. None can be cut off from any other. Today, the Spirit reveals Jesus, but everything that the Father has is Jesus' also, so all are present in the revealing of the Spirit. But notice that in their mutual presence none of the three loses their particular identity in their union with one another, while, on the other hand, never falling into a crass individualism. Indeed, the more the Son is the Son - that is, deepening his relationship to the Father- the more he is the Son in his identity as Son. (One reason why the naturally relational language of Father/Son in trinitarian language won't go out of fashion.) This is personhood, not individualism, and without the great sea of undifferentiated being in the background for us to be dissolved into. Personhood implies identity and relationship.

Made in this image, we reflect God in our inter-personal nature as human beings, for others are always present to us, one way or another. When we receive another person others are also present with us, at least in some manner, or perhaps a variety of ways. This mutual presence to one another is a common human experience hinting at the fullness of our being and our lives, and the whiff of the future blessedness of creation. (The experiential antonyms of mutual presence are also common: loneliness, despair, anxiety, revenge, murder, self-loathing, self-conceit, etc.) 

Here we meet also a trinitarian basis for forgiveness. And I am not talking about the forgiveness that we receive upon repentance - most of us can offer that kind of 'forgiveness', at least sometimes. Instead, I am talking about the asymmetrical, pure forgiveness of God. (See here.) In forgiveness, the Father refuses to lose the other (the sinner) and the Son restores to us our true identity as children of God. (Rom 8:12-17) In the Son's abandonment on the cross and in his resurrection and ascension, we can never be lost. God remains present to us, even in our human weakness, failure, and sin. (Romans 5:6-11) 

This is why I have difficulty conceiving of hell as popularly understood. We are never alone, even the damned. In the abandonment of the cross, this holds true, especially so for the abandoned/damned.

Trinity Sunday Year C (Part 1)

Readings for Trinity Sunday (Year C)  Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31; Romans 5:1-5; John 16:12-15. 

‘He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” (John 16:14-15) 

 The strange language of the Gospel of John: the three – Father, Son and Spirit – are interconnected in such a way that if you talk of one, it naturally leads to the others. So today, the Spirit comes and will take what is Jesus’ and declare it to the disciples. So if they have forgotten anything, the Spirit will teach them. But then, immediately, Jesus says that all that the Father has is his. Therefore, if the Spirit declares to the disciples what is Jesus’ then the Spirit will also be declaring what is the Father’s. 

The three are so closely connected that we speak of the union of the three. And before we get bogged down in working out the apparent complexities of the Trinity, let’s catch one of the practical and simple implications of this language. Wherever God is, there is Jesus. So you can trust Jesus. And the gospels tell us that this union is not after the resurrection, but speaks of who Jesus is all the time. So you can trust what he says and what he does. Giving yourself to Jesus is to give yourself to God. The salvation that is won in Jesus is God’s gift to us. 

 And the Spirit. You can trust the Spirit, for the Spirit speaks (of) Jesus, and what Jesus has is the Father’s. To be in the Spirit is to be in the Father and the Son. To receive the Spirit is to receive the freedom of the Son, the freedom of the children of God who cry out ‘Abba’ – a cry of intimacy and love. There is nothing complex about that. It is the simple message of the gospel. Jesus is the salvation of God, and to receive this salvation is to be part of the love the Son receives and gives to the Father. 

 And if we are in Jesus, then our destiny is to be with Jesus, wherever he is. And he is with God. And so our final destiny is, likewise, to be with God. But not just our final destiny. For if we are in Jesus, and Jesus is in God now, then we are in God now. We don’t have to wait. This is the work of the Spirit. Jesus has departed, but the Spirit is given to us, who makes Jesus known and present in us and for us. Our final destiny is true right now. This is part of the meaning of Jesus as the way, the truth and the light. He is not just the destination (the Father, or heaven maybe), but is also the way there. And we are on the way now. We are not alone. (Or as John’s Gospel says, we are not left orphans.) And this is intimately tied to mission. In the NT our inclusion in God results not in a passive enjoyment of our relationship with God, but, in the confidence and strength of it, going out into the world. ("As the Father sent me ..." John 20:21)

Kids' Talk on the Ascension

 Today the kids and I talked about the Ascension. I had two questions.

1. Where is Jesus?
2. Where is God?

I started with the kids. They were unsure. So we wandered around the congregation a bit and asked some people to find some answers. We had a variety of answers, ranging from 'everywhere'; 'in heaven, although heaven isn't really a place like we usually think of a place to go'; 'seated on the right hand of the Father'; and thinking of God as a sparkle to be discerned in the darkness. All good answers.

I said to the kids that I don't think of 'where' is God or Jesus, but who is with God or Jesus. So, where is Jesus? Jesus is where God is. So where is God? Where Jesus is. And where are we? With God and Jesus in the Holy Spirit. 

Let's Not Reduce The Ascension

It is common for people to give up on the Ascension. ("Where did he go? There are just planets and stuff 'up' there.") But we could let the Ascension speak out of a thicker sense of reality than that, and not dismiss the ancients as pre-secientific simpletons and drongos. (For those reading from a non-Australian background, 'drongo' is an Australian term for 'fool'.)

Thirty years ago I tried a spiritual experiment. I rose early each day for three months and meditated for an hour. At the end of the three months I experienced a deep silence for a couple of seconds until I tried to claim it ("I've done it!"), and then it was gone. I describe it as a deep silence, but that doesn't do the experience justice. It was deeper than that, but I can't really think of a better word than silence to describe the experience. Undoubtedly bits of wires stuck to various parts of my head might have told us what was going on in my brain at the time, but that wouldn't suffice as an explanation or even complete description of the experience. (Reductionism in the guise of a complete explanation is like that: inadequate.)

Maybe 'ascend' is like 'silence' above.  Maybe 'ascend' is a good word for something much deeper and more profound than is captured by the common use of the word. Yes, Jesus ascended, but that just doesn't capture the experience. It was much more than that. Way deeper than just 'up'. 
Is Jesus ascending and therefore leaving us? Yes. And is ascension also creation being drawn into God? Yes. Such that now the presence of the God who is present to all creation (i.e. transcendent) is now imprinted with the death and resurrection of Jesus. Ascension is just as much about ascending away as it is about ascending into, about Jesus' absence from us, as our journey with him.

"I will not leave you orphaned. I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me ... I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name ... " 

And here is an Ascension kid's talk for church.

And here is a poem on the Ascension, from Barb, a local Anglican priest.

Deeper into Sin to be Freed from it.

Walking the way of the cross during Easter is traditional. You can do it in Jerusalem (the via dolorosa), or closer to home you can do it at your local church. We are invited to 'walk' the path of the saviour each time we read the story from Gethsemane to tomb in dramatic form. I like the latter best when we (the congregation) take all the parts other than the role of Jesus. We walk the road from Gethsemane to tomb not out of guilt and as an excuse to self-recriminate. Nor do we grovel as we walk in a religious version of a show-trial. Nor is the journey an occasion of (inner) chastisement leading to catharsis, like some kind of pagan festival. We walk as sinners, sinners who know they need a saviour. It isn't hard to know our need: one only has to look at the newspaper of history, or one's own heart and experience, to see the universality of sin and our need to be saved from it.

People these days recoil from the term 'sinner'. In my experience, they cite either the self-recrimination that has gone with 'sinner' in the past, a self-recrimination aimed at controlling 'the sinner'. Alternatively, some people cite the way 'sinner' has been used to point the finger at others, with 'sinner' in this version of history partnered with judgementalism. 

Ironically, a culture that has given up on 'sin' and 'sinners' is captive to the very consequences it wants to avoid. Denying the universality of sin/human failure - that is, pretending that there is some part of me that is quarantined from the imperfect world I have grown up in - makes those very consequences more likely. In naivete about the world ("Let's all just be kind to one another" or "Why can't people just love each other?"), to extreme narcissism (think identitarian politics), and then onto scapegoating and cultural polarisation (think social media), we have core features of the contemporary cultural landscape.

Instead, Christians walk the via dolorosa as sinners in need of a saviour, and a saviour appropriate for our mutual sinfulness. Walking the via dolorosa as a sinner is, ironically, to get off the see-saw of self-recrimination and criticism of others. Walking the way of the cross with the saviour also brings with it freedom, and should make us more difficult to control through guilt. 

Why is this? Mostly because we are loved, that's the point of the whole Jesus thing. And as beloved, we don't have to hide from our sin. We can receive the salvation of the saviour. We don't have to be in the centre of the universe: we can let God be the centre and receive God's love and forgiveness, renewal and freedom.

 God's way of dealing with human sin is to go deeper into the human predicament by being a victim of sin. And we must go deeper into our sin by acknowledging our need for a saviour. This is the path that yields genuine repentance (not guilt), and we emerge with a new empathy for the human condition, which we share.

John 12:1-8 Mary, Jesus, and that Perfume

 “As the best thing is love itself, not the benefits which it confers, there must be no censure of its lavishness as disproportionate.” (William Temple, Readings in St John’s Gospel, p. 191.) 

 Imagine your brother has just died and three days later Jesus turns up. Jesus does miracles. “If you had been here he would not have died.” (Jn 11:32) That’s Mary of Bethany. She then goes off to mourn at the tomb. Jesus follows and raises Lazarus from the dead. 

 When Lazarus died, Mary did not fully comprehend the significance of Jesus, and especially, the meaning of his death. She understands that Jesus has the power to perform miracles. She does not yet understand Jesus fully, though. She will witness the miracle of the raising of Lazarus, and then understand the miracle as a sign pointing to the meaning of the death of Jesus.

 Fast-forward to the anointing, and Mary now understands. She has seen Lazarus raised from the dead. Her brother is alive once more. Later, when Jesus is at table in her house she does not come to him to acknowledge the miracle as such. The miracle is a sign of something greater. She now understands the miracle as a sign, and she is the first to come to this understanding of the death of Jesus in the Gospel of John. This is why she anoints Jesus for his death. The miracle brought life where there was only death, and as a sign the raising of Lazarus points to the life-giving death of Jesus. The death of Jesus will bring life, eternal life, and the Spirit welling up in the heart of the believer. (Jn 7:37) Where there is death, now there is life. (Jn 12:23-24) The cross will not have the odour of death, to be imprisoned behind a stone (11:39). Instead, his death will have the aroma of extravagance and life that fills the house and will not be contained. (12:3 and 20:1)

John 12:1-8 is the gateway from the public ministry of Jesus (of signs pointing to the meaning of his death) into the narrative of the Passion, that is, the death and resurrection of Jesus. It can be read profitably with John 11. (See Jn 11:2) This larger chunk (from 11:1 – 12:8) retains a focus on the death of Jesus throughout. It begins with the raising of Lazarus, and continues with the plot to kill Jesus. (11:45-53)  Ironically and unknown to him, the high priest, in justifying the plot to kill Jesus, speaks the truth about the significance of Jesus’ death. (11:50-53) They will kill him to eliminate him, but Jesus will go to his death as the one sent from God to unite all the children of God. And then there is the duplicitous Judas, who will betray Jesus. (12:4-6) 

 Mapped over this focus on the death of Jesus is the movement of Mary from tepid, half-understood faith, to a disciple who comprehends. She anoints Jesus for his burial, having kept the perfume for this day of symbolic burial. (12:7) She has not anointed Jesus as king/messiah (see Mark 14:3-9), but in a similar fashion to the way in which Jesus’ washing of his disciples’ feet is symbolic of a total cleanse (13:8-10), this anointing speaks of future embalming. (R.H. Lightfoot, St John's Gospel. A Commentary, p. 236)  This anointing is not a symbolic purification of Jesus. Soon, Jesus will symbolically purify his disciples as he washes their feet, but Jesus does not need purification, he will purify others (cf. Hebrews) and is therefore worthy of this great act of extravagance and love.  “She responds to his self-giving love by giving her all, giving herself in a beautiful, foolish and scandalous way.” (Jean Vanier, Drawn into the Mystery of Jesus Through the Gospel of John, p. 206)