Month: April 2020

In today’s reading, Jesus likens his job as heavenly Judge to that of a shepherd, sorting through his flock and separating the sheep from the goats. When two animals are so anatomically alike, one of the easiest ways to tell them apart is their behaviour. It’s how they act that’s the giveaway. 

So it is with the two groups that Jesus describes. The righteous and the cursed can look remarkably similar to the untrained eye. It is their behaviour that distinguishes them. Jesus is specific: the righteous are those that have helped people in crisis. They fed the hungry, clothed the naked, visited the sick and befriended the prisoners.

Surely this makes things simple for us as Christians? We know just what we should do in order to be counted righteous by Jesus. In fact, we can create ourselves a handy tick list: Wrote a letter to a prisoner. Tick. Volunteered at the local food bank. Tick. Donated to a homeless shelter. Tick.

Of course, to do this would be to miss the point entirely. After all, when Jesus rewards the sheep, they do not stand smugly, clutching completed checklists and congratulating themselves on having met the requirements. Instead, as The Message translation puts it, they turn to Jesus and ask, ‘What are you talking about?’ They are oblivious to the moments in which they have done the very things Jesus views as most important.

It is the same for the goats. ‘When, Lord?,’ they ask. ‘When did we fail to act as you wanted us to?’ As C.S. Lewis comments, the heaviest charge against them is not the things they have done, but those they never dreamed of doing.

When it comes to the crunch, neither group is aware of what it was they were doing right or wrong. The most important decision points have entirely passed them by. The troubling message of Jesus’ story, then, is this: it is our unconscious actions that reveal our deepest character. He’s not just watching when we’re on our best behaviour. He sees the forgotten moments too. And there’s no pulling the wool over his eyes.

But this is more than just a story about being a Good Samaritan. Notice that Jesus does not simply applaud the sheep for helping the needy. He tells them that in doing so, they have ministered directly to him. “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” You will inherit the kingdom, he says, not because you served them, but because you served me. 

So this is not just a story about what we do. It is a story about why we do it. We choose obedience to him not because we want to convince him that we are worthy of inheriting eternal life, but because he is worthy of that obedience. And as we learn through repeatedly putting his priorities into practice, he is also changing our hearts to be more like his. C.S. Lewis puts it like this: ‘We do not think God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because he loves us.’

So when we choose to act selflessly, it is not just in response to a crisis. In fact, quite the opposite. We act from a place of security, as grateful recipients of the greatest love of all.

Our very first job, then, does not concern our treatment of others at all. It is to fix our eyes on Jesus, the shepherd on the throne. This is the greatest commandment (Matthew 22.35–40). Loving our neighbour is crucial. But it comes second, because it flows from our loving relationship with God, powered by his Spirit in us. Just as faith without works is dead (James 2.17), so works without faith are lifeless. It is the two together that make a sheep a sheep, rather than a goat.

Father God
We love you. Help us to love you with all our hearts. We desire to love our neighbours as ourselves. Will you open our eyes to see the needs of those around us and inspire us to meet those needs with reckless generosity and kindness. We want to live as sheep who follow your son Jesus, our shepherd King. Empower us by your Spirit to be obedient to your call.
Amen.

I wonder how you deal with uncertainty over deadlines. 

Are you the sort of person who likes to have things planned meticulously to the hour, making sure that none of your time is wasted or unaccounted for – organising in advance to make things happen ‘just so’, strategising and weighing up the pros and cons?

Or do you prefer to go with the flow, letting time take its natural course and allowing spontaneity to govern your actions? 

Perhaps the former feels constraining to you. Perhaps the latter seems bewilderingly chaotic. 

It seems strangely apt that we have come to this passage at a time when our entire society’s modus operandi has been disrupted. Whichever of those two camps you most identify with, the ‘normal’ ways of going about our business have come to a juddering halt. Those of us who love to plan are forced to realise that we are not really in control. Those who roll with the moment are coming to terms with restrictions and limitations. 

This is profoundly uncomfortable – and yet, in so many ways, it is probably a long overdue opportunity to look in the proverbial mirror and undergo a spiritual health check.  

We have been forced to examine our daily routines, precisely because we have been unable to follow them. And through doing that we have been made to examine our lives and our priorities. 

How do I spend my time? 

What do I do when I wake up? 

How do I use my commute? 

How do I interact with my colleagues? Am I the sort of person who they are currently missing whilst we work remotely because I seek to build them up ordinarily? If I have already had my last opportunity to speak to them of the reason I can be hopeful in the face of a pandemic, have I really tried to introduce them to the One who is in Control? Or have I missed that opportunity? 

How do I spend my money? 

For what is my soul thirsty and where have I undernourished it? 

Which disciplines have I neglected – and how has this affected my spiritual health? 

If normality is perhaps neither so normal nor so certain, why don’t I take more risks in Jesus’ service?

The parables we read are about waiting for Jesus’ return. But this is not a passive waiting; those who are portrayed as responsible in each parable have readied themselves. They have made use of the time given them to be prepared. 

How can we use these strange circumstances to realign our hearts with God’s purposes? 

How can we welcome this interruption as a way of forming new habits? 

As someone who works in a secular job, I love that Jesus so often portrays normal life as the setting for his parables. As I go about my daily business, how am I serving the Kingdom? 

Those characters in the parable know that the Bridegroom and the Master is coming back – but they do not know when. They do not know how long they each have to perform the duties assigned to them. But they do know what they must do until that point. And their reward is joy. 

In the parable of the ten virgins, we are told that those who were ready went into the feast. After spending such a long time waiting for the Bridegroom to arrive, how welcome that food must have been! In the parable of the bags of gold, we are not told exactly what the reward for the two faithful servants is – but the invitation to share in the Master’s happiness surely indicates some sort of celebration. 

I want you to stop and think about the difference this element of joy makes. If it were not there, these parables would simply speak of a hard taskmaster who is waiting for an opportune moment to point out our mistakes. But these verses tell us of a God who longs for us to roll up our sleeves and join in with the work he is doing – and who will share the celebrations with us. The times when I have been asked to make cakes or arrange flowers for friends’ weddings have never been simply about the task in hand; instead, my contribution has been given joyfully knowing that dear people whom I love are celebrating, and this has been part of that. 

I think the active waiting will look different for each of us, but we need to stop and reflect on what that means for us in the day to day. Perhaps we need to ask God to fill us with greater anticipation of the joy that we are promised as we seek to serve him. 

Father, thank you for the many blessings you pour out on us. Thank you for being a God who longs for us to join in with the work you are doing in restoring hope to a world that so desperately needs it. Please would your words here challenge us to see where we invest in the wrong things – but would we be spurred on by knowing that there is greater joy to be found in the work that you have set for us. Where are hearts are sleepy, wake us up. Where our minds are distracted, call us again to your presence. Where our souls are tired, fill us again with your joy and your strength. 
Amen.