Month: May 2020

Revelation 5.1-14

What John sees through the open door he describes in chapter four of his revelation is an incredible vision of the throne room of God. Actually, he sees the same as Ezekiel did hundreds of years earlier, a shining throne, surrounded by creatures with four faces and many wings. The difference of course, is that unlike in Ezekiel’s vision where the people were worshipping other gods in the temple, in this vision God is being worshipped by angelic beings and human elders alike. 

In chapter 5 – as we heard – his attention shifts to the sealed scroll God is holding. Like the scroll Ezekiel was told to eat, it becomes evident that this is a scroll of judgement and opening it is necessary to begin the chain of events that will allow for justice to flow, and evil to be addressed by a righteous God. 

But who can open it? No one can be found who is sufficiently righteous to do that? 

John, incarcerated in a Roman prison camp, knowing of the martyrdom of all the other Apostles, weeps bitterly at the idea that there will be no justice, no judgement, no holding to account for evils that have been committed. 

But one of the elders comforts him. Don’t weep – the Lion of Judah, descendant of David has conquered – HE is qualified to open it!

Expecting a great roaring beast, a mighty, powerful creature, John looks up and sees… a lamb, still covered in the marks of its sacrificial death. This frail broken little animal does two astonishing things. It walks straight to the mighty, glowing throne and takes the scroll. HE is able to both approach God without fear and begin the process of justice and judgement on evil. The Lion – is a lamb. The powerful king is also a sacrifice. 

Heaven breaks out in worship:

Golden bowls containing the prayers of Gods people are offered up to the lamb

The song is of how he has ransomed, bought back humanity through his blood. How we are no longer the slaves of sin and death, that we have been paid for, our debts have been cleared. 

And now those from every tribe, language, people and nation have become a kingdom, priests serving God. Inheritors of royal status who will reign on earth.

This is what the Lion – Lamb has done.

And how the angels and elders worship! Myriads of myriads, thousands of thousands – roaring the lambs praise together. And all the creatures on earth, under the earth, in the sea… exploding in celebration at what the Lion-Lamb has done! The noise is immense!

What an amazing vision! What a thing to see – and hear! What a perspective changer on reality. 

Chapter 1-3 of this book are letters to 7 churches, exhorting, challenging and comforting them to stay faithful to Jesus. Not to compromise their faith. Not to let difficulties or persecutions crush them. Not to let their first love grow cold or their faith to become lukewarm. They are very human, very normal, very mundane, now- sorts of problems. Just like ours. Some are doing better than others. 

There’s a call here not to let the routine, the tedium, the stress, the disappointments of day to day life grind us down or shift our attention from Jesus. There’s a call to keep him front and centre, to press on, reach into those storehouses of his faithfulness we have in Scripture, in our own testimonies and those of others. Not to give up or allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by the reality we see around us.

Because the reality of this vision, this explosion of holiness, justice, worship – this is what has been going on in the heavenlies for 2000 years now. 

This is the throne we are welcome to approach. 

This is what we join in with our little songs of praise. 

These are our prayers – being held up in golden bowls before God’s throne. 

WE are the bought back, the redeemed, the priestly people honoured with the call to serve God in our times. 

Today, tonight – whenever you are listening to this – lets imagine that scene again. Let’s see again the lamb, who didn’t win by fighting and posturing and manipulating, but by sacrificing himself. Stronger than any human leader. Stronger than any spiritual force. A sacrificial lamb who roars – like a lion  against evil and injustice, defending all those who call on him. 

Let’s recalibrate again. Change our perspective with John, and join in with the myriad of myriads who cry, “Blessing and honour and glory and might, forever and ever. Amen”

Let’s pray. 

Father, we thank you for this glimpse of a different reality. One that has changed everything. One that we are welcomed into because of the blood of Jesus; the lamb who was slain and rose again. Help us when our perspective slips and rather than the technicolour throne room all we see if the beige of our lives right now. Show us where your kingdom is breaking in, where the joy and colour and hope of that heavenly worship and spiritual truth is at work bringing light and life around us. And give us your Holy Spirit that we might be priests – those who worship and intercede for the world we see every day. We join with the angels, the elder and all creation in giving you thanks and praise. 
Amen. 

Revelation 1.4-20

The opening vision of the Book of Revelation is the Lord Jesus walking amongst the lampstands of the seven churches of Asia Minor. The prophetic letters to the churches are well-known and regularly preached on. But we’re going to focus on what this section tells us about Jesus who does the speaking.

The greeting starting at verse four introduces the heavenly trinity: first, the one who was is and is to come – the eternal God who will arrive one day, who will come –  as the prophets expected and Revelation affirms. Second: the seven spirits is not the announcement of an expansion to the Holy Trinity from three to nine but a reference to Zechariah 4 where the Holy Spirit is imaged as a seven branched menorah – one of those Jewish branched lamps – represents one the Spirit: ‘not by might nor by power but by my spirit says the Lord’. Then comes a triple attribution of titles to Jesus: ‘faithful witness, firstborn from the dead and ruler of the kings of the earth’. The fact that the word ‘witness’ is martyr in Greek makes it clear that this is an organised sequence reminding us of Jesus’ death, resurrection and ascension to heavenly rule. Unusually for the NT, it is the third of these that is focal point of the book of Revelation. The book is the story of how the crucified, risen Lord Jesus is now worthy to bring to the final judgement and sovereign rule of God on earth.

Each of these three titles is also about us: we too are called to be faithful witnesses and we are promised both final resurrection and a share in Jesus’ kingdom rule. This is who John says Jesus is. When Jesus speaks in 1.17f he repeats basically the same things: he was dead, he is alive, he has power over death and Hades. Hades is the place where the dead wait before they are given up to God at the final resurrection.

John also sees a vision of Jesus. Jesus is described in ways that are partly like the figures of the Ancient of Days and the Son of Man in Daniel chapter 7. This is Jesus as God bringing the judgement and kingdom of God on the earth. He is also described as wearing the clothing of the High Priest Aaron – a long linen robe – and he has a sword coming from his mouth. This last image reminds us that it is not physical strength or military power that Jesus exercises but righteous judgment by the words of his mouth. He speaks God’s justice for the righteous, for the faithful and for the oppressed.

When Jesus speaks and tells what will take place (1.19) he is Jesus the prophet, when he reveals God to us and stands for us before God he is Jesus the priest and in his authority to bring God’s ultimate just rule he is Jesus the king. Prophet, Priest and King in one overpowering vision of the glory of the person and work of Jesus.

What strikes me about this is just how comprehensive a vision of the Lord and his ministry this is. I can’t think of anything that I need Jesus to be that isn’t included here. When I need my sins forgiven: ‘he freed us from our sins by his blood’’ When I am weak, sick and worry about dying: he has the keys of death. When I worry about the future: he has the future in his hands – he is the first and the last. This is the Jesus who walks amongst the lampstands – he really sees the life of his churches and knows us fully. He is the one to calm our fears, challenge our apathy and give hope in the darkness. We meet him in all the joy and power of who he is and what he has done for us.

In a fit of desperation in 1897 the French post-impressionist artist Gaugin wrote three classic questions of life on the corner of one of his paintings of a scene of Tahitian women: The questions were in French but they translate as: Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going? The history of trying to answer these questions is long and involved. But Holy Scripture says that the answers all centre around God’s comprehensive work in Christ. Where do we come from? From the maker of all things: we owe him our very breath; What are we? creatures made in his image for his pleasure and glory, broken by sin and redeemed in the cross; Where are we going? The answer to this third question is Revelation’s specialist subject: we are called into Jesus’ kingdom and called to share in his glory.

Lord Jesus, you are everything to us. Help us to stand back a little farther today and wonder a little more at the fulness of who you are and the comprehensiveness of what you have done for us.
Amen.

Ephesians 4.4-14

Our present age glorifies uniqueness. ‘Here I am, this is me, I’m totally unique and special in my individuality’, it cries. It sometimes goes further in self-focussed defiance: ‘Don’t change for anyone – you’re perfect as you are and everyone else must accept that’.

On the other hand, there are certainly spheres where conformity is expected, where deviation from normal practices or particular views are met with suspicion, perhaps even hostility.

I think we feel conflicted: We want to be special, but also don’t feel totally happy with who we are. We want to fit in with others, but don’t want to merely blend in. We seem to want to be both individuals, and also be securely part of a group.

This passage offers a balm to our confused spirits, giving us both individuality and community.

So, firstly, how does Paul say we are alike?

‘There is one body and one Spirit’, that is, all are part of the same fellowship, the same church, and all are empowered by the same Holy Spirit.

‘One Lord, one faith’ – all are joined to one Lord and Saviour, the same Christ, and all proclaim one salvation.

‘One hope… [and] one baptism’ – all have the same future destination, and all have the same entry point.

And how have we come to share all of this? Well, fundamentally, it is because, through Christ, we all acknowledge the one God, and all call him Father – that is, we are all part of the same family.

We all have come to know and love the rule of God ‘who is above all’, and that he is active ‘through all’, and present ‘in all’. This is true of all of creation, but particularly so for those who are members of his family.

Are any too far from him to be included in his family?

Paul’s side note in verses nine and ten may be about Christ’s descent to earth from heaven, his death and descent to the grave, or his descent even to the depths of Hades. In some ways it doesn’t matter – the point is that he has unending authority – he ‘fill[s] all things’. There isn’t anywhere that is beyond his power; from ‘the lowest parts of the earth’ to his ascended place ‘high above the heavens’. Wherever we are, physically or spiritually, we are not too far for him to reach us.

Christ is Lord over all, and we can all be welcomed into his family. Alleluia!

But what about our desire to be unique?

‘But each of us…’ begins verse seven – ah, here we have some individuality. Each are given different gifts – the list here is shorter than others elsewhere in Paul’s teaching, but still: some have this gift, some have that one.

We don’t acquire these gifts ourselves, though. They are grace-given, according to a measure of Christ – not something we have earned. But nevertheless, they do afford individuality within the family of God.

In divergence to the modern view of individuality though, our unique blend of gifts is not for us to like and others to have to deal with. They have a purpose.

When Christ ascended to make ‘captivity itself a captive’ – that is to deliver freedom – he then pours out these gifts. So, the gifts are for continuing Christ’s ministry, empowered by the Spirit.

Also divergent from the cry of our age, is the idea that we aren’t perfect yet. As well as being for the purposes of freedom, the gifts of the ascended Christ are also to aid us in being directional. We are to move, to grow, towards something – to greater unity, to fuller knowledge of Christ and ‘full stature’ – more completely walking in his footsteps. Not to be as children – either blown off-course by a strong but fickle wind of doctrine or distracted by deliberate temptation from others.

I wonder if a metaphor might help:

Imagine us as a family tied together for mutual safety and aid as we undertake a great expedition across an unforgiving landscape. Each has access to the Father directly through a walkie-talkie. Each started from different valleys, but all started climbing from the bottom of the mountain – and we’re all heading to the same place. We all joined the family by being connected to the same rope of salvation. Some of us are great map readers, others can carry vast amounts of provisions. Some can read the weather, others know excellent morale-boosting adventurers’ songs. We need each other on this expedition, we must stick together – as a family, alike in many things, and unique in others – if we are to grow, to reach the end, and to enjoy our freedom along the way.

Do you feel an important part of the church family? Maybe you do – in which case, remember that you can’t read the map, judge the weather, sing adventuring songs and distribute snacks all at the same time – you need your brothers and sisters. The flip-side of this is true too. If you don’t feel useful or connected, remember that you are connected to the family by your connection to the Father, and at some point, we’re going to need you to sing the adventuring song that only you know.

My guess is that even if we looked just at our congregation at King’s, we’d find that almost everyone has felt unconnected or unhelpful at times. I think that is pretty universal – even for those who seem deeply connected and particularly useful. The challenge of this passage is to remember that we are both individuals and members of the family.

Are you trying to undertake the expedition alone, out of pride or fearing to ask for help? Are you withholding your gifts – be they navigation, refreshment or encouragement? Don’t do either of these things Paul says.

Instead, let’s ask ourselves: how might we more fully embrace our identity as part of God’s family, or use the gifts he has given us to support our brothers and sisters in this season of adventuring together across the unfamiliar and unforgiving landscape we’re currently facing?

Let’s pray together.

Heavenly Father, we praise you that you have welcomed us into your family, by your grace. Thank you that you give each of us gifts to bless and build up your church, and those beyond. Please help us to use these gifts wisely, humbly and with kindness. Help us to welcome each other into family together and to support and equip each other in growing towards the knowledge and likeness of Christ.
Amen.

1 Peter 1.3-9

I’m quite a fan of those cheesy icebreaker questions that ask: if you were an animal or chocolate bar or Spice Girl, what would you be and why? (FYI it’s a Labrador, Kitkat and Baby Spice for me). Questions like that get me thinking in a different direction and often bring with them unexpected discoveries, along with a decent amount of silliness, of course.

So, let me ask you the same question but this time, about your faith. Just humour me for a moment, if your faith were an animal, what would it be? … A hardworking little ant, maybe. A full of flap flamingo. How about a kind of weather … a calming sunset perhaps. Or maybe a thundering storm. And what if you were to describe your faith as a kind of metal? … On my good days, my faith feels like copper cabling, not so impressive looking but a conduit for useful stuff – but there are certainly days when my faith feels too easily bent out of shape, a little rusty at the edges and not all that fancy to look at. More like tin. Yes, there are definitely tin faith days.

Today’s passage points us to a different metal altogether.

When describing faith, Peter says that it is more precious than gold. How remarkable that the everyday, faltering steps of our faith are compared to something so valuable and beautiful. That precious material that adorns and shouts of wealth: gold. We’re told that such genuine faith will result in praise, glory and honour when Jesus is revealed. The Message translation puts it brilliantly saying: ‘When Jesus wraps this all up, it’s your faith… that God will have on display as evidence of his victory.’ Our faith may feel feeble, it may seem weak and inadequate, but it is extraordinarily valuable to God and, as this passage explains and celebrates, it leads to the most incredible gift: the salvation of our souls.

In rising from the dead, Jesus has won for us an inheritance that Peter describes as imperishable, undefiled and unfading. To put it another way, it is going to last forever, it’s pure and it is vibrant. This inheritance is our salvation. We’re told that it is ready and waiting for us – it is kept in heaven.

But that isn’t to say that it is a purely future reality. Peter tells us that we are already in the process of receiving this living hope, this outcome of our faith, this salvation of our souls. And therefore, we don’t sit counting down the days until we reach heaven. We live our salvation today.

This calls us to a new perspective on the difficult things in our lives. Peter doesn’t pretend that suffering doesn’t exist, remember that he was writing at a time when believers were being killed for holding fast to the Gospel, but he refers to suffering trials as being ‘for a little while’. In the same way, Paul says in 2 Corinthians: ‘this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure’ (4:17). It’s as though, when we eventually hold our inheritance fully, even the most awful things of our earthly life will somehow seem to have lasted a mere moment. It’s easy to hear the words, isn’t it, but how much harder to live a life where faith and suffering stand side by side while trusting that an eternal hope is on the horizon. Praise God that it isn’t reliant on us. As Peter says, ‘we are being protected by the power of God’ and so when holding on to hope feels hopeless, we can be sure that God is fighting alongside us in the battle.

God has given us the gift of this inheritance because of his great mercy. We haven’t earned our salvation nor do we need to strive to prove the genuineness of our faith. It is all in Him and to His glory. We are simply called to rejoice in the receiving of it. And when such joy doesn’t seem all that forthcoming, let us remember that whether our faith feels like trusty copper cabling or an old piece of tin, in the eyes of our loving heavenly father, it is always, always golden.

Let’s pray:

Father, thank you for the gift of our salvation. Thank you that it is imperishable, undefiled and unfading. When the difficulties of today overshadow the promised glory of our inheritance would you change our perspective and give us joy. Help us to trust that our faith, however feeble it feels, is valuable to you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Romans 8.28-39

It is a cliche to say that your wedding day is the happiest of your life, but on 14 July 2012 I felt pure joy as the chaplain spoke the words, ‘I now pronounce you man and wife’. In response, I let out a strange and slightly embarrassing noise, somewhere between a cry and a cheer. Thankfully, I’m not sure anyone registered it except me, but I remember it clearly because it was one of the very few times when I – as a fully signed up member of the repressed Brits club – let out a completely uncontrolled overflow of emotion in public. My squawk was not one of joy, or excitement, or even gratitude. It was the sound of relief. 

Martin and I had spent much of our relationship until that moment living on separate continents, and from watching the friends around me, I knew all too well that life could throw obstacles in the path of even those couples you thought destined to be together forever. Job offers in different countries, university places in different cities, conflicting obligations to family, financial challenges, differences of opinion over current political topics, and the list could go on. But here I was, looking at the person I had chosen to spend the rest of my life with, knowing that there was now nothing that would separate us. Whatever was to happen from here, we would face it together. Or to put it in less saccharine terms, Martin now had no escape. ‘Those whom God has joined, let no man put asunder.’ (A phrase taken from Matthew 19:6 and Mark 10:9.)

In order to underline the definitive nature of our commitment to one another, we had made vows. It was not only ‘no man’ who could put us asunder. We also pledged that sickness, poverty, and the very worst of times would not be enough to split us apart. We were now one flesh, ‘for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health’. Such big promises.

So far, so romantic. The wedding service, however, has to make one concession. There is a situation which will divide any couple, about which we have no choice, and in the face of which we can do nothing. This is why the promises Martin and I made to each other, and that all married couples make, come with a caveat. I will love and cherish you, we say, ‘until death us do part’. Even on the very day we celebrate our coming together, we must acknowledge that there will be a day when we will be parted. In a ceremony designed to recognise the very best of human love, we still give voice to its limitations.

In today’s passage, Paul reminds us that there is in fact a love even greater, even more glorious and powerful than any we might experience here on earth. Greater than our love for our spouse, our children, our parents, our siblings, our friends. It is a love that will not yield even to death. We have even greater cause to yell out in glee than me, a bride at the altar.

For we are loved with a love that reaches into the past, soaks the present and extends into the eternal future. Nothing of this world, nor anything in all creation, can bring it to an end. No person, no hardship or distress. Even death is no threat to it, for it flows from Jesus, the one who conquered death, by giving himself up to it in order that we too might be raised with him, justified, glorified, rising as more than conquerors. 

On his wedding day, the groom ‘leaves his father and his mother and clings to his wife, and they become one flesh’ (Genesis 2:24). So we, in joining ourselves to Jesus, leave behind our old way of life and become members of a new family. We are not promised that we will never again face hardship, but rather than when we do so, we will do it with Christ beside us, within us, fighting for us. No one can stand against us. And we can be confident that he is ultimately working all things for good, even when we cannot see it. 

This is why, after we had made our vows to one another, Martin and I chose to have our wedding guests sing In Christ Alone with us, a song that reminds us of the hope we have in Christ. He is the one who stills our fears and offers solidity in the midst of our strivings. The one who took on flesh, endured man’s scorn and died on the cross in order that we might live. Our Saviour, who burst victorious from the grave and overcame sin’s curse. 

Every Christian can echo the sentiment that caused me to feel so overcome as I stood at the altar in my white dress, with a shiny new ring on my finger: I am his and he is mine! And we can all celebrate together, voices rich with love and relief: ‘No power of hell, no scheme of man, / Can ever pluck me from his hand.’

Father God, Thank you that through Jesus’ death the curtain between us was torn in two and we are no longer separated from you. Thank you nothing we do, and nothing that can be done to us, is enough to change that. Help us to live in your love, to proclaim your victory and to build our lives on the certainty of our future with you,
Amen.

Romans 8.12-25

I’d like us to think about three things from today’s reading: the glory we are promised, life in the present and the hope we have. 

Firstly then, the Spirit we have received has not made us slaves, lowly workers in God’s kingdom, but rather we are adopted. We’re welcomed into God’s family, as children and co-heirs alongside Jesus. I wonder if you’ve spent much time dwelling on your status as a co-heir of God along with Christ? Paul tells us that he considers ‘the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us’. I don’t know what particular sufferings you have in your life; I find it hard to conceive of a glory so great that the sufferings in my life and in the world as a whole can’t be compared to it, but that is what we have been promised! And while we long for this glorious future, we aren’t alone, for ‘creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God’, for that day when we are reckoned as children of the King and receive our inheritance of glory – even creation will be set free.

This glorious future inheritance does have strings attached though. There’s an expectation upon us as members of God’s family to behave fittingly; if we are led by the Spirit, and put to death the deeds of the body, we will live. By following the guidance of the Spirit we have received, and who lives within us, we’re not only living in a pleasing way to God, but we are being changed in the present. Inheritance is a familiar concept to us today, as it was for the Romans thousands of years ago; upon the death of a family member or close friend, you may be left a portion of their property, as set out in their will. This isn’t the only inheritance we receive, though, as we also inherit our appearance, aspects of our character and behaviour from others, particularly our parents. I can see this in my own life in many ways, for example, I can see that I have inherited a huge part of my character, interests and use of time straight from my Dad (for better or worse, some might ask!).

Similarly, because we are adopted into God’s family, we start to inherit God’s character, priorities and perspective, as we are led by the Holy Spirit. You may have had a self-aware realisation at some point in your life that you’re turning into one of your parents – let’s strive towards being able to look back and see how our lives have been shaped towards Christ’s likeness. This isn’t to say that if we are led by the Spirit that everything will be rosy; as Paul says, we suffer with Christ in this present time that we may also be glorified with him, but the Spirit of adoption we have received means that we do not have to fall back in fear.

This leads me on to the final point: hope. Verses 24 and 25 say,  ‘For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience’. We can be hopeful because of the certainty of what we do not yet see, and because we have the Holy Spirit bearing witness with out own. It’s easy to be fearful of that which we can’t see yet if we are uncertain of it, but this chance of redemption and a future that we can’t yet see but are certain of is the great hope of Christians across history and the world, that sets us apart from the futility of the world. We were saved in hope, because if we could see the future that has been promised we wouldn’t need hope any more, and we can live in hope through the sufferings of this world because we know what God’s got waiting for us.

Let’s pray.

Father God, thank you so much for what Christ did for us on the cross, making us co-heirs with him in your family. Thank you for your Spirit that dwells in us, leads us and witnesses to our spirits that we are your children, and thank you that we aren’t left to our own devices and strength to try and live holy lives. We ask that you would help us to put to death the deeds of our bodies, that we might be glorified with Christ on that last day, and that we would wait patiently until then without losing hope.
Amen.

Romans 6.5-14

Have you ever tried to end a bad habit? Whether it’s picking at zits on your face or biting your nails… If so, you’ll know just how difficult it is! The saying rings true: Old habits die hard. Of course, we’re also susceptible to more serious habits, behaviours we don’t want others knowing about – I’m talking about the sinful patterns in our lives that make us feel ‘enslaved’ (v.6). Paul rightly chooses such a word of provocation – there is no good connotation to being a slave, whether back in first century Judea or here today.

If we are enslaved, it then makes sense that naturally we’ll desire freedom. Yet it’s easier said than done. In fact, it’s so difficult that Paul tells us that in order to find freedom, we need to die to sin. Talk about extreme language – but it also reveals the gravity of what Paul’s talking about. This isn’t just dealing with bothersome pimples or inconveniently long nails. This is dealing with sin, a matter of life or death.

Death, death, death… why all this talk about death? Isn’t it all just dark and gloom? In a way, it is. Death is horrific, no qualms about that. There’s nothing redeeming about death itself. And that’s why Jesus’ death on the cross, his gruesome and shameful crucifixion, was so shocking and final in nature. To His disciples, to His family, it was the end of all hope. Death, death, death…

But no! That’s not the end of the story! For Jesus was raised from the dead, and therefore ‘will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him.’ (v.9) Or as it says in 1 Corinthians 15: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’ (vv.54-55) He has defeated sin and death, once and for all. And hallelujah, Christ is alive!

For many of us, myself included, talk about death can be very abstract. Some of us have had to face it in pain and sorrow. But as a whole, Western culture doesn’t like to talk about death. We want to feel inspired and uplifted! Can’t we just talk about Christ being alive and about us living with Christ? The answer is no. We only live with Him if we are raised with Him, and we can only be raised with Him if we are in a state from which we can be raised, that is, death. We need to go through death to have life – we can’t just have the end result without the process.

So on one hand we have sin and death if we continue to live our old life, and on the other we have resurrection life in/with Jesus if we embrace the new life. I don’t know about you but it’s pretty clear which I’d rather choose! This is the good news: Christ died, and Christ has risen, and if we die with Christ, so too will we be risen and live with Christ.

Yes, it’s a matter of faith. Yes, it’s a matter of ‘believing’ (v.8). Yes, it’s a matter of ‘considering ourselves’ (v.11) as so – after all, it hasn’t fully happened yet. We still struggle with sin, we still face death as an earthly reality. What I appreciate about Paul is that he doesn’t pretend life is grand. Neither does he expect us to have already fully overcome sin (see what he says in chapter 7 about his own struggle with doing what he doesn’t want to do and not doing what he wants to do!). But that doesn’t give us an excuse to capitulate to sin and its passions.

We cannot be passive. Paul exhorts us to be proactive now: Do not…! No longer…! The truth of the eternal reality impinges upon the present, and we have a responsibility to partner with that truth. We still have a choice. We can continue to sin and entertain wickedness – but that doesn’t align with the eternal reality that we ‘have been brought from death to life’ (v.13).

Does that mean we can and should fight this battle on our own? Of course not! Only in Jesus Christ do we have dominion over sin and death – we need His help immensely. And so let us present ourselves to God, trusting that in and by His grace, sin will not enslave us – we look to the day when that eternal reality comes to fruition.

Let’s pray.

Jesus, thank you for your death and resurrection that also takes us from death to life. Will you help us when we are enticed by our old life of sin and its passions, instead of looking forward to the eternal reality of new life with you. Even though we still struggle, will you strengthen us by your Spirit so that we can step into your freedom and victory. In your name, we pray,
Amen.

Hebrews 12.1–3

This passage follows chapter 11’s swelling list of great heroes of the faith. It recounts fantastical stories that many of us began learning as little kids. When reading those stories as adults, we start noticing that some of the characters were deeply flawed, and some of the stories were really messy! In many ways they were ordinary humans, just like us, in and through whom God did extraordinary things. Their legacy is the common thread that connected them: faith. As they did in their faith journeys, we’re to “also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely.”

Several years ago, my husband Andy and I backpacked the Dingle Way, a long-distance trail in southwest Ireland. It winds through astonishing terrain, but because we carried (in hindsight!) more supplies than we needed in extremely heavy backpacks, some days the pain and agony of our load far overshadowed the phenomenal views and once-in-a-lifetime experiences. What relief we felt in the times when we took off the backpacks and walked without them! How much more manageable the distance, how free we were to enjoy the full experience and fellow hikers, to soak up the beauty around us.

Similarly, in life we sometimes think that the weight we’re carrying is so vital, so non-removable. What is the unnecessary weight you carry? What sin is like suffocating cling wrap to your soul? What is distracting your gaze and focus? Sometimes we’re convinced there’s just no other way, when in reality these prevent us from experiencing the fullness and freedom He offers. It’s time to drop the over-stuffed, unnecessary, misery-inducing backpack. Listen to the One beckoning all those who are weary and burdened, and He will give you rest. Ask Jesus to open your eyes, ask Him to free you from that which He has not asked you to carry and from that sin which you’ve allowed to burden and numb your walk with Him.

You can’t properly run a race with a giant backpack! Not only is it relieving to have that weight removed, it’s necessary for the faith journey set before us. We’re told to run with perseverance – carrying on in spite of difficulties and obstacles – which assumes we will indeed face those, just as the saints in chapter 11 did. Their perseverance included building an ark when there were no rain clouds in sight, leaving home not even knowing where God was leading, offering to God that which was most precious, facing threats and abuse and even death.

Jesus is very familiar with challenges like these, and He knows the faith required to endure them. He is the one who brought our faith into being, and He’s the one who perfects it. Sometimes we’ll notice Him pioneering new things in and around us as he perfects our faith. It’s most often gradual and at times imperceptible.

Hebrews 11:1 says that faith is “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Joy and a cross seem incompatible with one another. It’s important to note that the joy set before Jesus was not a joy in his present circumstances. The present time for Him held atrocious, horrific things: being deserted by those who were supposed to love him, being beaten, mocked, and even crucified! Yet His deep-rooted joy was ultimately in what lay ahead, that which wasn’t clear and obvious in those dark hours . . . the day when He would be united with God and in His presence forever. Our joy should be anchored in that same hope – a future hope – not just a hope in the circumstances of this life. So much of scripture adjusts our gaze to a more distant horizon.

There will inevitably be times of discouragement, unclarity, and perhaps even times of hostility from others as we persevere in the race set before us. In those times, we can find comfort in knowing that this difficult terrain was endured by the great cloud of witnesses and by Jesus Himself. Not only that, but He’s given us His church, modern-day saints to run with us. Some may look like obvious heroes, but most are other “ordinary” people just like us, saved by faith that is gradually being perfected by its Author.

Dear Jesus,

We thank you that we are not pioneers on this journey of faith. We follow generations who have faithfully walked before us, and you, our incarnate Christ, walked upon this soil and modelled joyful perseverance. Thank you that we are not alone. You continue to walk alongside us and lead us in this race. Show us the weight that strains and the sin that binds us ­– convict us, bring us to repentance, and rescue us. Fix our eyes on you, and let us share in your joy.
Amen.

Hebrews 4.14-5.10

In Hebrews chapters four and five we are plumb in the middle of Hebrews’ exposition of one of its most distinctive and powerful themes: that Jesus is our Great High Priest. Although the heavenly intercession of Christ is alluded to in other places in the New Testament (eg Roms. 8.34 and 1 Tim. 2.5) the discussion in Hebrews is the fullest, deepest and most inspiring of all. The two psalms quoted in 5.5 and 6 help form a short chain of titles for Jesus. The 2nd Psalm links together kingship and Sonship – God’s Son sits at his right hand. The 110th Psalm links kingship with priesthood – the Lord who sits at the LORD’s right hand is a priest forever like Melchizedek. Now Jesus is the Son of God, King and Priest.

The focus throughout today’s reading is on the uniqueness of Jesus’ priesthood. All priests are humans and have real empathy for their fellow humans with whom they share their weaknesses. Precisely because any human priest shares not only in the humanity, but also the sinfulness of those on whose behalf he intercedes, he has to offer sacrifices not only for their sins but also for his own. This is most obvious in the greatest OT sacrifice of all when, once a year, on the Day of Atonement, the High Priest enters behind the veil into the most Holy Place. He offers first a bull for his own sins before offering two goats for the sins for the people. Even the HP is a sinner like all of God’s people.

Priesthood is a privileged position which requires a divine call and appointment. In this respect at least Jesus priesthood is like that of all OT priests – God has appointed him. But Jesus is appointed to a higher status and permanent office. Jesus priesthood has four advantages over human priesthood: first because of his perfect life he has no need to make an offering for his own sin and so offers himself for the sins of others; secondly because of his resurrection he lives for ever and therefore his priesthood is not rendered ineffective by age or death. Because he lives forever his priesthood is permanent. Thirdly because Jesus is exalted to God’s right hand his sacrifice is seen in the very presence of God – in heaven rather than on earth. Finally because Jesus is not only God but became and remains a human this means we have a man in heaven as our intercessor and advocate on our behalf.

The combination of these things is a powerful spiritual comfort, in the literal sense of comfort – giving spiritual strength to our life in Christ. Here for me is the heart of the matter. Jesus’ incarnation (that as God he shared and shares our humanity), his obedient life (he did not sin), his sacrificial death (by which offering of himself on the cross he covers my sin) and his resurrection (he lives forever never to die again) are all things that he undertook as a human on my behalf and yours. They mean that Jesus our heavenly intercessor who intercedes for us not only was human but is human and his pleading has the power of all that he undertook, suffered and achieved as a human on our behalf. And that is just what I need. If Jesus as God were to plead before His Father’s throne on my behalf this would be powerful and persuasive but I’m not sure that I would be so confident that he was on my side. But he shares my humanity so closely and fully that it only differs from mine and yours in one crucial particular – he never sinned. He lived a perfect life of obedience to His Father and won a hard fought battle with exactly the temptations I – you – we face day by day. And though tested he came through untainted by sin. He has the nail marks to prove the extent and cost of that of obedience that was tested in every kind of temptation. He became obedient even to death on the cross. Now he pleads his perfect life and sacrificial death on behalf of sinful humanity. And this gives me great confidence: the nail prints of the Lamb are visible for heaven to see. For the Father to see.

The poets and hymn writers always say it best. Giant among them is Isaac Watts from 300 years ago. This is from ‘Join all the glorious names’.

Jesus, My Great High Priest,
Offered himself and died,
My guilty conscience seeks no sacrifice beside;
His powerful blood did once atone; and
now it pleads before his throne.

My Advocate appears for my defence on high;
The Father bows his ears and lays his thunder by;
Not all that hell or sin can say
Can turn his heart, his love away.

‘Join all the Glorious Names’ by Isaac Watts

You probably know Before the Throne of God Above – a modern revival of a 180 year old hymn made more powerful and more popular by a better tune. But it is this simpler 40 year old song by Wendy Churchill that, one Sunday evening, had me sinking to my knees in worship and weeping tears of joy at the sheer confidence I can have in Jesus’ pleading before his Father for little me. I make it our final prayer:

Jesus is king and I will extol him
Give Him the glory, and honour His name
He reigns on high, enthroned in the heavens
Word of the Father, exalted for us

We have a hope that is steadfast and certain
Gone through the curtain and touching the throne
We have a Priest who is there interceding
Pouring His grace on our lives day by day

We come to Him, our Priest and Apostle
Clothed in His glory and bearing His name
Laying our lives with gladness before Him
Filled with His Spirit we worship the King

O Holy One, our hearts do adore You
Thrilled with Your goodness we give You our praise
Angels in light with worship surround Him
Jesus, our Saviour, forever the same.

‘Jesus is King’ by Wendy Churchill