One Step at a Time

It's Advent (my goodness - so soon?) so for me that means time to blog. Due to the chaotic nature of life at present I don't feel able to follow something task based such as Love Life Live Advent, so each day I'll be reflecting on the sentence of scripture from the children's advent calendar and how that relates to, well, anything.
Yesterday was a very odd Advent Sunday,  instead of being at church I was tucked up in bed, sleeping between night shifts. Because of this is doesn't feel like I've given Advent the proper welcome it deserves. This sort of reflects life in general at the moment. I'm feeling the pressure of my assignment schedule as I run the "sprint to the end" of the more formal part of my ordination training. Work as ever is busy, especially as we enter winter virus season, and I'm immersed in a joyful placement with the Manchester university chaplaincy team. This will end before Christmas,  putting me back at St Michael's for Christmas week.
My head is cluttered, my house is cluttered and my lack of preparation surpasses even the previous two years, so it's all about the "one step at a time" approach as I try to find space to anticipate the coming of Christmas and being ready to receive Christ. Luckily, I think he'll take me just as I am. Thank God.
Part of the gospel reading from yesterday was (from Luke 21:29b-30):
"Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near."
I hope to find those little signs this Advent, the sprouting leaves, that remind me God is so very close.

Lost Causes?

Just a quick blog post- a reflection from the prayers I led today, which is the day the Anglican church remembers the apostles Simon and Jude. The Exciting Holiness website tells us the following:

"Simon and Jude were named among the twelve apostles in the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke. Simon is called 'the Zealot', probably because he belonged to a nationalist resistance movement opposing the Roman occupation forces. There is no indication in the gospels whether Simon moved from the Zealot party to be a follower of Christ or, on the other hand, if after the resurrection he became a supporter of that group, seeing it as a response to God's call to proclaim the kingdom.
Luke describes Jude as the son of James, while the Letter of Jude has him as the brother of James, neither of which negates the other. It seems he is the same person as Thaddæus, which may have been a last name. Owing to the similarity of his name to that of Judas Iscariot, Jude was rarely invoked in prayer and it seems likely that because of this, interceding through him was seen as a final resort when all else failed. He became known, therefore, as the patron saint of lost causes.
The two apostles are joined together on this day because a church, which had recently acquired their relics, was dedicated to their memory in Rome in the seventh century."

What do we consider to be a lost cause? A person, thing or situation that can’t be changed for the better? What comes into our minds when we think of a situation that might be a lost cause? The refugee crisis, breaking up of the NHS, War in the Middle East and Africa, Persecution of LGBT people, illness without a cure, people struggling with addiction, the ability to stand up against corrupt regimes, inequality, environmental damage.

These may, by some, be considered lost causes, battles not worth fighting because they’re already lost. Situations where the outcome is inevitable.

Yet central to our faith is hope. Creation is ongoing, revelation of God within that creation is also ongoing so can there ever truly be a lost cause? As we work towards God’s kingdom coming among us we might just be the person who takes in the refugee, challenges government policies which harm the vulnerable, works for peace, defends the persecuted, researches the cure, counsels the addict, stands up to corruption, rejects inequality and stewards creation.

Fighting the lost causes may make us hated or despised, as the Apostles like Jesus before them were hated and despised. To begin with the apostle’s mission must have seemed like a lost cause- there were so few of them to achieve what needed to be done. But that’s part of the wonder of God. He uses us and our abilities to achieve what should be impossible.

What's Your Story?

As always I found today's sermon difficult to write. The challenge this time was having a different audience, as I'm on placement at St Peter's University chaplaincy in Manchester. The congregation are educated, ecumenical, multi cultural and many don't have English as their 1st language. It's a bit longer than I'm used to as well- aiming for 15 minutes instead of 8.
The readings were Jeremiah 31:7-9, Psalm 34 and Mark 10:46-52.

I’m a massive fan of the writer Terry Pratchett. I started to read his books when I was 11, so for most of my life the world he created- the Discworld- has grown and developed alongside me. The narrative of this imagined world actually contains a lot of commentary which I think has shaped how I look at our world- his books contain social commentary, philosophy, ethics, satire of organised religion and even exploration of difficult theories of quantum physics but it’s all woven within a fantasy world and its imagined characters- all of whom, like real people have evolved and changed over the course of the narrative.

Stories matter. We’re a race of story tellers. Novels, fairy tales, family stories and bible stories. We remember them, we share them, and we pass them on to our children. I couldn’t wait until my children were old enough to start sharing the Discworld with. Our story telling expands far beyond books or even the more ancient tradition of oral story telling. Our lives are packed with narrative- TV, cinema, DVDs, online streaming, gaming- we may be more often immersed in imagined worlds than the real one.

Every culture has its important stories, those which are deeply imbedded in our history. They may go some way to encapsulate the core beliefs of that culture or society, family stories may do the same. This is who we are, where we’ve come from, this is what we believe. Stories may reinforce the stereotypes we buy into, or serve to challenge them. The stories our leaders tell us may shape how we view our national identities, and those of other nations. The media too like to use narrative to challenge or strengthen how we view the world or particular groups or issues.

What stories did Bartimaeus, the blind beggar, grow up with? What narrative? “Son of David have mercy on me!” he calls out. He’d heard the rumours- this Nazarene, this Jesus, was rumoured to be the long promised Messiah, woven into the narrative of the Hebrew Scriptures, the stories passed on orally from generation to generation.

It’s a stereotype that those born blind compensate with other senses or skills, but just maybe Bartimaeus had a keen memory for the stories he’d heard from his father or the rabbi. Maybe he’d grown up hearing Jeremiah’s words:
“The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety.”
This narrative of the coming messiah was woven into Bartimaeus’ life. The long awaited righteous Son of David. Is it these words “son of David” which cause Jesus to stop and act? Why? What purpose does this gospel story – the healing of Bartimaeus- have in Jesus’ narrative?

I believe that the very last thing today’s gospel is about is a physical healing. Yes it’s part of the narrative, but it’s a device which serves another purpose.

I began training as nurse in 1996, 19 years ago. I qualified in 2000 and ever since have worked at Christie hospital caring for patients undergoing high dose chemotherapy and stem cell transplants. 19 years in healthcare has taught me that illness is indiscriminate of age, race, gender, social standing, religion and righteousness. Some people do badly without explanation and likewise some people do well when you wouldn’t expect them to.

On very rare occasions someone’s recovery could be described as “miraculous”. Do I think God healed them? I honestly don’t know. Consultants generally don’t like giving anyone else the credit. I believe all healing has Gods hand in it, but the established church is very reluctant to take ownership of what might be seen as miraculous healings. At times I’ve prayed- lamented- on my knees for miracles that didn’t come.

So what comes into my mind when I read today’s gospel is why him? Why Bartimaeus? What purpose did Jesus have in healing him? When we look at this healing, and other healing stories in scripture, what we come to understand is that when God miraculously heals someone he’s making a point. Healing glorifies God, reveals his power, fulfils his promises and shows his mercy. It’s part of an ongoing revelation of the character of God and our relationship with him. We must think then what does Bartimaeus being healed reveal about God, within the over-arching narrative of Mark’s gospel.

Son of David, promised Messiah. The king who would come and save. A righteous judge, but also a military leader- he’d have to be to deliver the people from their Roman occupation. By responding to the cry of “Son of David” Jesus is saying “yes. I admit it- that’s me, the messiah” but Jesus admitting he’s the Messiah subverts the expectation of what the messiah will be. This is part of Mark’s wider narrative- the reinterpretation of messiahship. The expected military leader or political king becomes prophet, teacher and miracle worker. Messianic expectations are subverted further later in Mark’s narrative when we see that it’s central to Jesus’ ministry for him to suffer and die.

Jesus chooses this point in the plot to reveal he’s the Messiah as it comes at a pivotal point- straight after today’s gospel, according to St. Mark, Jesus enters Jerusalem. The passion narrative begins. Bartimaeus is healed and immediately follows Jesus, but where is that leading him except to the cross?

Bartimaeus doesn’t need to be healed of his blindness. Physical sight makes no difference to faith. But Jesus knows the importance of a good story, we see this recorded in the gospel parables. What Jesus is doing with Bartimaeus, instead of revealing God through telling a parable, is physically acting out a parable. In this morning’s reading from Jeremiah we hear of the God who will “gather them from the farthest parts of the earth, among them the blind and the lame” and the psalmist “cried, and was heard by the LORD, and was saved from every trouble”. The God revealed in prophecy and poetry in confirmed in this acted out parable. The story arch reveals not only something of God’s character, but signposts what we who follow Jesus are committing to.

Blindness to sight, dark to light, veiled knowledge to true insight. What Bartimaeus receives is a gift from God, but it’s not his physical sight. It’s the true insight, the knowledge, of who Jesus is, and that he must follow him, even if that means following him to the cross. The Messiah will know suffering, as the blind beggar has known suffering. He’ll be rejected as the blind beggar has been rejected.

How did the reality of Jesus compare to the messianic stories heard as a child? Did Bartimaeus really think the Son of David would hear his cry for mercy? The character of God he knew from scripture, the God who wants to gather to himself even the most marginalised and vulnerable in society, is revealed through Jesus responding to his cry and through the narrative device of a physical healing, gifts him with the insight to follow him no matter what.

The bigger picture, the overall sweep of the narrative, and therefore the purpose of this healing, is the revelation of the God who hears the cries of his people, knows what they need, has concern for those suffering but also invites us- even requires us- to follow Jesus and see him suffering, to see Jesus cry out, because only then do we know that this is a God who really understands us and human suffering. And because if we don’t follow Jesus to the cross, we can’t be party to his resurrection. If the narrative ends at Good Friday the story’s incomplete, and without Good Friday there can be no Easter Day.

So how, indeed, is this the word of God for us today? Stanley Hauerwas is a writer on the subject of Christian ethics, and he’s a big believer in the power of narrative. He writes that Christianity rests not on abstract philosophical principles but on stories, that God has indeed revealed himself narratively in the history of Israel and in the life of Jesus. These stories shape the character of the individuals and communities where they’re still repeated today. We tell and retell the stories in order to maintain our identity and we see the narrative of our lives within this wider narrative.

By telling and retelling the stories about Jesus and his life we build that narrative into our lives and try to emulate it. To return to Terry Pratchett he once wrote “Goodness is about what you do. Not what you pray to.” I believe there’s truth in that. If we’re Christians but not attempting to be Christ-like it doesn’t really matter what we label ourselves.

So, what story do we here want to tell? Where do we want to fit in the narrative? Will the story of our lives be part of the ongoing revelation of the God who has concern for the least, most vulnerable members of our society?

The refugee, the abused, the despised, the rejected. As Jesus wove the narrative of his life into the lives of the marginalised so must we. It’s then that our lives touch that of Jesus, and we tell the best story possible.

Harvest Thanksgiving

My short talk from last night's Evensong, which was part of our harvest celebration. All info about and worship material from the Arthur Rank Centre can be found here:

www.arthurrankcentre.org.uk

‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.’

We’ve probably all heard those words hundreds of times. It seems to be a part of scripture that comes into my head or my path almost daily. That might partly be to do with the nature of my work- that I often interact with people needing to hand their burdens over to someone else or that on most days, if you asked me how I feel at the end of a day my reply would be “weary”.

Jesus offers us spiritual rest, but it seems appropriate, on this day where we’ve offered up our harvest thanksgiving, that we think of those in need of physical rest, those who work around the world but also much closer to home to produce the harvest we praise God for.

Some of you will know that until pretty recent times my family were farmers- right here in Flixton- for generations. As a child most of my time was either spent on my grandad’s smallholding or visiting the farming friends of my parents and grandparents, mostly around Cheshire. My brother worked in agricultural machinery for many years and still has strong links to the farming community of the rural village in which he lives.

Issues within the industry remain close to my family’s heart, whether it be fair prices for milk and lamb, animal welfare as more intensive farming methods dominate the more traditional, or the overworking of the land leading to poor quality top soil. There are many burdens for today’s farmer.

2 years ago when visiting the Romiley Young Farmer’s Show I came across the work of The Arthur Rank Centre. Since 1972 The ARC, an ecumenical Christian charity, has served both the spiritual and practical needs of the rural community through a programme of community and social projects, resourcing and training. The Centre’s not just a building but an enduring symbol of faith in the countryside.

They’re the home of the National Rural Offices for the Church of England, Methodist and United Reformed Church; and also the hub for the church network of Rural Officers and Agricultural Chaplains. Their focus is to support and strengthen the UK’s 15,000 rural churches, so they can respond positively to change and impact the communities they serve

As well as spiritual support and chaplaincy they’re out there offering very real and very practical help, such as their Germinate Enterprise, which is a programme designed totackle hidden rural poverty, retain working age and young people in villages, assist farm diversification, take advantage of high speed rural broadband as it becomes available, benefit existing businesses and use the business skills within congregations.

What I would like to share with you is a litany for agriculture from the ARC, based on Psalm 136:

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good.

Give thanks to the God of creation.

Give thanks to the Lord of the earth

His mercy endures for ever.

 

Give thanks to the Lord

who formed the farmland of our country

from the dark richness of the fens,

to the drystone heath,

the diversity of the Wold

and the wildness of the hills;

His mercy endures for ever.

 

Give thanks to the Lord

who nurtures our crops-

casual swathes of cereal, oilseed and pulses,

grassland and legume,

regimented rows of bulbs, roots and brassica;

His mercy endures for ever.

 

Give thanks to the Lord

who sustains us-

from seed carried randomly on the wind

to the precision of the satellite map,

from the strain on a single collar

to the thrust of 200 horse power,

from the song of the skylark

to the sound of local radio in a tractor cab;

His mercy endures for ever.

 

Give thanks to the Lord

who provides for our livestock-

on open pasture or straw bedded yard,

in chill iron ’n concrete market pens

or temperature - controlled unit;

His mercy endures for ever.

 

Give thanks to the Lord

who is both guide and teacher;

who shapes our husbandry and education -

for the legacy of Agricultural College and Farm Institute,

for Schools of Agriculture in Universities across the land,

His mercy endures for ever.

 

Give thanks to the Lord

who is always faithful,

who gave the countryside as an inheritance

and has lovingly entrusted it

to farmers and workers,

to lecturers and students,

and to all as stewards of his creation;

His mercy endures for ever.

 

Give thanks to the Lord

who is the One who cares for us -

through churches and support groups,

Agricultural Chaplains and Rural Officers;

and who gives us all that we need.

His mercy endures for ever.

 

Give thanks to the God of heaven

His mercy endures for ever.

When is Faith Not Enough?

I delivered this sermon on the 6th Sept at our main morning service. I was a little concerned as we had a surprise baptism but it was really well received by the family.

The readings it's based upon are Isaiah 35:4-7a, Psalm 146, James 2:1-10, 14-17 and Mark 7:24-end

Thursday morning was a pretty emotional one for several reasons. For many of our local children, including my son Jacob, it meant a return to school. For several of our St Michael’s family- George, Amelia, Sarah-Jane and Amber- it was their first day at secondary school.

When I clicked on to Facebook, as I often do first thing in the morning, my timeline was filled with photos of my friend’s children in smart, clean, new uniforms all ready for the school run. I always find this emotional- seeing children I’ve known since being babies starting school, moving on to the next year group and moving on to new schools. It’s particularly poignant this year as my daughter Faith starts high school tomorrow.

There were however two things which contrasted with the flurry of new term activity. The first was from my friend whose son started reception this week. He has an as yet undiagnosed developmental delay and my friend’s one wish for her son’s first year at school is for him to be able to say his first words.

For me this put into context all the worry we go through over which school our children will be going to, where they’ll get the best opportunities, what their SAT results will be, when all my friend wishes is to hear her son speak.

It’s a reminder that every child is beautiful, unique and to be valued and loved. They each grow and develop in their own unique way and all that perhaps really matters is that they know they are loved and valued and that we enable them to love and value others in return.

But there was another picture of a child that filled my computer and TV screen on Thursday. It was of a three year old boy called Aylan Kurdi whose body had washed up upon a Turkish beach after he, along with his five year old brother Galip and mother Rihan, drowned when the dingy they were fleeing the Syrian town of Kobane in capsized.

I’m sure many of you have seen these pictures- and there’s an argument to be had about whether they should have been shared. If you haven’t seen the pictures you may have read or listened to this family’s story and felt the same emotions I felt- dis-ease, dis-comfort, sadness, helplessness and some guilt as well.

Every child should be valued and loved. As I was expressing my love for my children by readying them for the new school term, Rihan Al-Kurdi was expressing hers by fleeing from Syria. That decision cost their lives but as I’ve heard repeated so many times this week- you would only put your child in the boat if it was safer than staying on the land.

These pictures have given a name and a face to the continuing refugee crisis in Europe which has often been portrayed in a very different way by the mainstream media.

If anything even remotely positive can be taken from such a devastating loss of young lives it will hopefully be a shift in our national perspective to see these families in a different way- not as migrants moving west in search of jobs, affluence and a better standard of living but as people forced to flee or face horrors in their daily lives that we can only imagine.

In our church we’ve prayed many times for the ongoing crisis in the Middle East. We’ve prayed for those who are trying to live with it daily and for those who, like Aylan and his family, have died trying to escape from it.

Our reading from James today outlines a key theme of his epistle, one which has caused a lot of friction over the centuries in its apparent contradiction of the writings of Paul. When is faith not enough? Paul writes that faith alone marks us out as belonging to Christ, but James is passionate in his belief that if faith is genuine it will outwardly change us and our behaviour, leading us to perform good or charitable works. He asks us what’s the point of our blessing someone when what they really need is food because they’re starving to death. He goes as far as calling it sinful to bless a starving person instead of feeding them. It’s strong stuff.

James writes to a congregation showing favouritism to the rich, clean and healthy yet God does not show favouritism- a belief shared by the woman who approaches Jesus in the gospel reading. Jesus is quite alarming – even rude- in his first response, comparing gentiles to dogs, evoking the superiority of Israel’s claim to God’s blessing, but I can’t help but feel he’s trying to get a response from her, which he does. She has faith that God’s blessing is for her too.

In the passage just before this Jesus has been teaching about pulling down the barriers between Jews and gentiles, and here he puts it into practice. This is Jesus not just talking but acting- doing the thing he’s previously preached about.

A gentile is blessed by Jesus’ action- given equality with God’s chosen people. Jesus goes on to heal a deaf man. We’re not told if he’s a Jew or a gentile but the area he’s in is mainly non-Jewish.

Isaiah tells us what God has in store for those he blesses- eyes opened, ears unstopped, lame leaping and speechless singing. Whether these are physical or spiritual disabilities what’s promised is the restoration of wholeness to those deprived of the fullness of humanity- both physically and spiritually.

This restoration to wholeness is developed further in the psalm- Our God executes justice for the oppressed, gives food to the hungry, sets the prisoners free, opens the eyes of the blind, lifts up those who are bowed down, loves the righteous and watches over the strangers.

In the Gospel Jesus in fulfilling this by his actions and God’s blessings are poured down upon all equally. We’re all equal and we all deserve God’s blessings and to be able to enjoy the beauty and diversity of His creation, whether we’ve been born into a comfortable and peaceful life in England or a dangerous and war damaged one in Syria.

My dilemma this week has been is MY faith enough, are my prayers enough? And if not what can I do? What action is in my power that reflects the weight upon my conscience as I look at the pictures Aylan? What can I do for the refugees who ARE the oppressed, the hungry, the bowed low and the strangers whom God blesses?

There are practical things that can be done such as supporting charities who work to help refugees, donating money and supplies and asking questions of those in power as to how we as a nation can realistically respond to the crisis.

Politically this is very complex – but I’ve been reminded many times this week of our national response to the post second would war refugee crisis, where richer countries came to an agreement on supporting the refugees the war had created. We acted out of compassion, we acted because it was the right thing to do. 

A chaplain once told me that James was the epistle of chaplains, which might be why today’s reading really resonates with me. James urges his congregation to treat the poor, dirty and sick with equity to the rich, clean and healthy. He urges them to meet the bodily needs of those who are suffering before their spiritual ones.

Is this how we should think about the refugee crisis? Are there times when we’re called to offer more than our prayers?

Prayer is important, it connects us to God. It develops our relationship with God. Intercessory prayer connects us to the world around us. Sometimes it’s the only way we can respond to the painful things we see in the world. We pray because we have faith that God responds. But faith is more than prayer, it’s more than what we do here on a Sunday. Being here refreshes and sustains us but what our faith does is take us out of here into the world to respond to what we find there.

When we see people deprived of the fullness of humanity, like Jesus we must back up what we pray for by our actions, remembering God’s blessing is for each one of us equally.

When God’s blessing is at work in the world, through us, we’ll see justice for the oppressed, the hungry fed, prisoners freed, eyes opened, the bowed down lifted up, and the strangers watched over.

Spiritual Diet Plan

Sermon preached 16.8.15 based on Proverbs 9:1-6, Psalm 34:9-14, Ephesians 5:15-20 and John 6:51-58.

My routine each day when I arrive on the ward where I work is to go straight to the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. This follows the travel mug of coffee I’ve made at home and drunk on my drive in. I love my morning coffee, and those who know me quite well might allude to the fact that I’m not the cheerful and kind soul you all know me to be until I’ve had it.

On Tuesday when I arrived into the ward kitchen, following my daily routine, my colleague was making what looked like a cup of herbal tea. When I remarked upon it she declared she was detoxing, had given up caffeine (a thought that would fill me with horror), and was drinking special detox “Boo tea…all the celebs are drinking it!” I was informed.

I’m not really that well in touch with celebrity culture but this isn’t the first diet fad to hit the ward- we’ve had the usual Weight Watchers and Slimming World, but then there’s been Liter Life, Slim fast, The Atkins Diet, Blood Group diet, magic water and the 5:2 diet. I myself- I know, unbelievable- have tried some of these.

There’s also been the exercise regimes that have spread through the ward- running clubs, boot camp, mountain biking, spinning, tough mudder, yoga, pilates- I’m exhausted just saying that- all in pursuit of being of being the healthiest, trimmest, best version of ourselves. To be our best.

These physical interventions also have psychological benefits- we feel better about ourselves, we have more energy, but there’s often a downside. The latest fad diet is often hard to maintain, you give in to temptation, or get fed up of being “good”. My friend with her Boo tea was scuppered even before lunchtime- as we so often are at work- by grateful relatives with a large delivery of cupcakes, which is probably why despite having a ward 150m long I’m still not slim.

After all this talk of food you might be feeling a bit peckish, and maybe doubly so after today’s readings; In our Proverbs reading we were invited to drink the wine and eat the bread of wisdom, The psalm alluded to the Lord feeding our spiritual hunger and the Ephesians reading warned us to be filled with the Holy Spirit rather than the alcoholic sort.

The diet and fitness regimes popular amongst my colleagues serve to improve our physical health, and as I’ve mentioned there are psychological benefits, but scripture is rich with metaphors of hunger and thirst which seek to show us how to improve our spiritual health and get our souls into shape.

The Gospel reading has Jesus inviting us to share in the ultimate spiritual diet- to eat his flesh and drink his blood, “the one who eats this bread will live forever”. The diet Jesus has to offer us is not a quick fix for the here and now- it’s a plan to get us fit for eternity. In our culture we’re so keen to satisfy our other appetites- like the hunger to be fitter or slimmer, to “look better” and to live longer- that it’s easy to neglect our spiritual hunger.

Jesus reveals in the gospel that he is the one who can really sustain us. We try to feed our other appetites and hope that this will bring us happiness, and we may have tried to feed our spiritual hunger in other ways, or by other spiritual practices. Like the attempt to find the perfect weight loss or exercise plan, it doesn’t meet our needs- it doesn’t feed our hunger or quench our thirst. We remain spiritually unsatisfied, unfulfilled- hungry and thirsty for something only Christ can give us.

Today’s gospel is a reminder that the Word Became flesh, and that flesh was sacrificed to sustain us. To Jesus’ audience “body” would have meant the entire person, and “blood” the absolute essence of life. Jesus offers and indeed gave himself entirely.

Flesh and blood underline Jesus’ humanity, whilst echoing back to the mystical beginning of John’s gospel. Jesus, word made flesh, is the spirit of God’s Wisdom inviting us to “Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight” reminding us that “those who seek the Lord lack nothing that is good”.

And yet if we take Jesus literally, trying to live solely by what God gives to us, we know it will fail because it’s not just about what God gives to us. It’s about us abiding in Christ and him abiding in us. It has to be reciprocal and mutual. This is no fad spiritual diet that will leave us craving for other things. If we fully enter into that mutual abiding- that communion- which we recognise and celebrate in the Eucharist, this continued repetition and reminder we experience feeds us, nourishes us – abides and grows within us, drawing us deeper into communion with God and also with each other.

We each have our personal, reciprocal relationship with God but we also have it with each other. Our faith is corporate. Jesus abides within and sustains us so we are able to carry out his will in the world as the body of Christ. To be our best means growing into the person God intends us to be.

Part of this includes engaging with the people and culture around us. My mission as a minister in the secular world means connecting with people who haven’t or wouldn’t step into a church. Knowing the latest fad diet or exercise regime is all part of this. Finding out what people thirst and hunger for- what sustains and nourishes them, what they connect with, and looking to see where God is in that, and where he can be for them.

Our meeting in communion here nourishes us to go out and take God with us, whoever we go, to whoever we meet. We have the experience of true food and true drink, and in the rich tradition of biblical hospitality it’s our job to go out and share it.

Bad things happen to good people

Sermon preached 12th July 2015 at St Michael's Flixton Summer Wholeness and Healing service. Based on Mark 6:14-19 and Ephesians 1:3-5

The section of Mark’s gospel that we’re reading through over the summer is so rich in scripture that helps us celebrate the ministry of Wholeness and Healing.

If we just remember back over the last 2 weeks we've had the story of the haemorrhaging woman and healing Jairus’ daughter. Last week the 12 disciples were being sent out in mission, and whilst it appears elsewhere in the gospel one of the few things Jesus directly commanded them to do was heal the sick. Spoilers for what’s coming over the next few weeks include feeding the 5000, Jesus walking on water and more miraculous healings, all of which would provide fantastic endless material for an uplifting sermon on Wholeness and Healing. These stories reveal to us God’s healing power, abundant love and give us clues to the relationship between Christ’s humanity and divinity.

But placed in the middle of all this miracle and wonder is a flashback to the Death of John the Baptist. A moment of defeat, and pain. A moment which caused Jesus to withdraw (when you look at the narrative in Matthew’s gospel). It seems out of place amongst these other tales of miracles- all these overwhelming displays of God’s love and power.

In John’s death we see frailty. We see a bad thing happening to a good person. We probably don’t remember that it comes in this section of Mark’s book, because of the narrative that surrounds it.

Why would it be in this part of the gospel? What purpose does it serve? And what can it tell us about Wholeness and Healing?

Whilst the stories either side of today’s reading are full of some of the most famous and miraculous events from Jesus’ ministry, it may be rare or perhaps even completely unimaginable that we would experience something even close to those miracles in our own lives. We may feel that whilst we hope for miracles, what we experience in our lives is much more mundane, and often the reality of the lives we lead is we’re faced with difficulties and sometimes sadness. It can be easier to relate to bible stories of people going through tough times, or the psalms which cry out in lament, than relate to the miraculous.

In stark contrast to the miracles pouring out from the gospel narrative, with this one story of sadness in the middle, If we watch or read the news the opposite is true- economic crisis in Greece, commemorations for lives lost in the 7/7 bombings, abuse inquiries within our own church. I think it’s safe to say that neither the miracles of the bible or the sadness in many of the media stories we read give the true picture of what we experience in our lives.

We can’t however deny that we do have to deal with difficulties more often that the miraculous, and at those times we may ask ourselves “where is God in this?”

Over the 15 years I’ve worked at The Christie I’ve prayed for hundreds, maybe 1000s of patients in my care. Some have got better and some haven’t. I’ve wondered if some of those who recovered, despite the odds, were miracles or simply the result of really good medical care and a lot of luck?  And I’ve wondered why were some not physically healed?

The church is very reluctant to claim healing miracles but there’s also no satisfying answer as to why God doesn’t intervene in the way we would want him to when we or someone we love is suffering or ill.

This must all sound a little bleak so far, not at all like “Good News” but John the Baptist’s death reminds us that even with huge amounts of faith bad things happen to us.

Yet sometimes the worst things we experience are often those which are the most important in forming the person we are or will become. During the ministry selection process one of the things I had to do was list the most significant events in my life up until that point.

When you look back at a lifetime of significant events you realise it’s often the things that have caused you pain, or caused you or those you love to suffer, that’ve had the most influence over the person you now are. The painful stuff shapes our faith, moulds our relationship with God and helps move us towards that wholeness we wish for. Would you be the person you are without some of the more difficult things you’ve experienced?

My friend Dave, who was a lay Methodist preacher, told me his cancer had given him the opportunity to talk to new people about God, making him feel he was drawing nearer to that relationship of Wholeness, despite his cancer not being treatable.

Something else we see in the Gospel reading is Herod’s brokenness. It’s too easy to see him as the pantomime villain, or a man manipulated into action, here what we see is a man broken by guilt. The reason the flashback to John’s death is here is because Herod, hearing about Jesus through the miracles and healing he'd performed, is driven by his uneasy conscience to think Jesus could be a resurrected John the Baptist. His murder of John wasn’t a great defeat or triumph, his marriage, to the wife who had wanted John dead, broke down and his own actions pushed Herod further away from being able to have a relationship with God. We see a man in desperate need of Healing and Wholeness but completely unable to ask for it.

There’s another purpose in recounting John’s death. It acts as a foreshadowing of Jesus’ death, a reminder at the height of his active ministry that Jesus too will die, shattering the lives of those around him and causing them to believe that all is lost.

When I wrote my ministry application form, reflecting upon those significant but painful events, one thing I realised was that whilst in the middle of it all it was almost impossible to see where God was in it, or how it could ever bring me closer to a whole relationship with him.

Yet years later, writing it all down, God’s presence in each part of my life became clearer. I think it’s true that sometimes God is so close we can’t see him. The theologian Leonard Sweet describes this closeness as being like asking a bird to see air or a fish to see water.

If you’d asked the disciples the day after the crucifixion where God was in it all I doubt they’d have had an answer for you, but ask them later, in the light of the resurrection and how that shaped their lives and relationship with God, They would hopefully tell you that what had seemed like the worst day of their life was actually the greatest, even though each of them subsequently suffered for it.

The bible is full of stories of bad things happening to good people, what counts is how those people respond to what has happened to them and if they are able to keep trusting in God.

The good news teaches us that good things can come from bad, we’re reminded of this in the Ephesians reading-

“In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he lavished on us.”

Our inheritance from God is through Christ’s blood.

Here we also see God’s plan for our healing, by making our relationship with him whole-

“He set forth in Christ, as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth”

God wants to gather us to him, maybe so close that at times we lose sight of him. He wants us along with all the things, good and bad, that’ve made us who we are. He wants our brokenness, if, unlike Herod, we’re able to offer it to him.

Our wholeness may not come in the form of a physical healing, a miracle, or the resolution of things which have hurt us, but from us being willing (during our good times and our difficult times) to let God gather us in and draw us nearer to him.