Tag Archives: Christ

To Live For Christ

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Sermon preached on Sunday 20th September 2026 based on Philippians 1:21- 30 and Matthew 20:1-16

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of our Lord; Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen

I’m going to start by asking a couple of questions, that doesn’t need to be answered out loud, on a topic that some of you might find difficult and perhaps something you weren’t intending to contemplate when you came to church this morning, but which our readings, especially the Philippians one, asks us think about. So here goes, ‘How do you feel about dying, and are you afraid of death?

I’ll give you a moment, but for the majority of us I would guess that the question doesn’t require much imagination… As humans we instinctively cling to life. We make plans to protect our health and secure our future, and we treasure the people we love. Death can feel like an intrusion – the one thing that stands between us and everything we still hope to do.

But then we meet Paul, who is writing from prison, uncertain whether he will be released or executed. And remarkably, his circumstances don’t seem to have the final word over his joy or his purpose. What Paul says is, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”

This is not the language of a man who has stopped valuing life. It is the language of someone who has discovered that Christ is more valuable than life itself. If Paul lives, he belongs to Christ and can serve others. If Paul dies, he belongs to Christ and goes to be with him. Either way, his faith in Christ is enough.

This very thought was also expressed to me the other day in one of our explorer groups. We were thinking about heaven, and one of the members of the group said that they had realised that there was no need to be afraid of death any more now that they had come to faith. Whenever it was to happen, they believed that it would be a joy to be able to come into God’s presence at last… Which raises a question for us this morning ‘What is our life really about?’

Our passage from Philippians doesn’t only tell us how Paul viewed life and death. It challenges us to consider what happens when following Christ becomes the defining reality of our lives, especially when our circumstances change or when suffering comes; when the future is uncertain, and when faithfulness costs us something. For Paul, his life as a Christian was not ultimately about preserving a comfortable life; but about living a Christ-centred life, whatever comes. Paul’s life had a centre, and that centre was Christ. So maybe one of the questions that our reading put before us today, is ‘What is at the centre of our lives?’

Paul is not just saying, ‘I’m a Christian’. He is saying that Christ shapes how he lives, what he values and how he treats other people. He is saying that Christ shapes how he responds when life is difficult and shapes what he hopes for… the reason that he gets up in the morning. For Paul, Christ is not an addition to life… Christ is life.

Now we might be challenged by that thought, because too often we organise our lives around other things. For us, life might mean our family, our home or work. What we do to keep ourselves healthy or whether we have enough money, trying to make sure that everything is secure.

None of these things are necessarily bad. In fact, many of them could be seen as good gifts from God. But the problem comes when a good thing becomes the ultimate thing. Because sooner or later, every one of those things can change. Work can disappear. Money can become tight. Our health can fail. Children grow up and move away. People we love die. The future can suddenly look very different from the one we had imagined.

And that is particularly relevant in the world in which we live. We live with considerable uncertainty. We hear about wars and conflicts around the world. We see pressures on public services. Many households are feeling the continuing pressure of food, energy and housing costs. There are worries about the future of our children and grandchildren. And then there are the much more personal uncertainties: illness, bereavement, loneliness, family difficulties, retirement, caring responsibilities, and the simple question: “What happens next?”

The Christian faith doesn’t promise that these things won’t happen. Paul certainly wasn’t promised an easy life, but he had discovered something more secure. If Christ is at the centre, then even when circumstances change, our deepest foundation does not.

The theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote about the difference between merely admiring Jesus and actually allowing Jesus to shape our lives. One of his most famous phrases is, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” All pronouns being interchangeable. Those are challenging words. Bonhoeffer was not talking about seeking suffering for its own sake. He was talking about the death of the old self-centred way of living.

The Christian life means allowing Christ to take the centre. It means dying to our need to always be right, or to be admired. Dying to the constant question, “What about me?” Instead, we can discover the freedom to ask, ‘Lord, what would you have me do?’ When Paul says: ‘To me, living is Christ,’ he is not seeking death, he isn’t saying that life doesn’t matter.

Whilst he might be torn between the desire to die and be with Christ, he also remains convinced that remaining alive is necessary for the sake of others. The fact is that God has given each of us a life that can become a gift to others. Whether that’s through offering prayer, being a listening ear, visiting someone or volunteering, there are so many ways of serving Christ. Some of which are highly visible and many more that are not. Whichever, God sees them all.

Furthermore, church should be one of the places where people discover that they have a right to be here, whether that’s as long-term communicants or newcomers. We need to ensure that we are a community of grace, living in a manner worthy of the gospel.

Paul uses this language of community when he talks about, ‘striving side by side’. He wants the Philippians to stand firm together: “standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel.” That is because Christian faith is not a solo project. We need one another. And that is something we sometimes forget.

We are a community. We are the body of Christ. We need people who are different from us. We need different generations. We need different personalities. We need people who have been Christians all their lives and people who are just beginning.

We need people who are confident and people who have doubts. We need those who are good at organising things and those whose greatest contribution may simply be prayer, and we need to remember that our differences don’t make us competitors, like the workers in the vineyard in Matthew’s gospel, they make us a community.

So, what might “to live is Christ” mean for us? Well, it might mean beginning the day with prayer rather than immediately beginning with the news on our phones. It might mean asking before making an important decision: “What would faithfulness to Christ look like here?”

It might mean refusing to measure our worth by how productive we are. It might mean being less anxious about what other people think of us. It might mean forgiving somebody we have carried resentment towards for years.

It might mean listening to somebody with whom we disagree. It might mean praying for our community, our nation and our world. And perhaps it means something even simpler: being prepared to ask God each morning, “Lord, what do you want me to do with this day?” Because every day is a gift. Even an ordinary day. Even a difficult day. Even a day when we feel that we haven’t achieved very much. God can use it.

Also, we don’t have to keep score, and perhaps this is where the two readings come together most powerfully. The workers in the vineyard wanted to keep score. Who had worked longest? Who deserves the most? Who came first? Who got what?

Paul had stopped keeping that kind of score. He has discovered something better. His life is no longer about establishing his own importance. His is about Christ. Paul says: “For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain.” We may not be able to say those words with Paul’s confidence. Because whilst our faith sometimes feels strong, at other times it feels fragile. There may be days when we feel close to God and days when God seems very distant. But perhaps we can begin somewhere simpler.

We can say: “Jesus, help me to put you at the centre.” At the centre of our work, our family life, our relationships. At the centre of our church. And if Christ is at the centre, then we don’t have to keep score or prove our worth. We don’t have to be frightened by change or resent God’s generosity to somebody else.

We can welcome the newcomer and encourage the young. We can honour the old and care for the lonely. We can forgive the difficult person and serve our neighbours. We can stand together when things are hard.

But above all we can trust that whatever happens to us or the Church, Christ remains at the centre. Because we are part of something much bigger than ourselves. The Church is not ours neither is the Gospel; they both belong to God. And the God who calls us into the vineyard is astonishingly generous.

Paul said, ‘To die is gain’, but that’s not for us to contemplate at this time. Instead, let’s go out from here this morning, not asking whether we have done enough to deserve God’s love. Let’s go knowing that we have already received it, and instead ask, ‘How can I spend this day for Christ?’

For now, that is enough

Amen.

The Passion of Christ

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Reflection for Good Friday based on Isaiah 52:13-15 and John 18 & 19

‘See, my servant shall prosper;
he shall be exalted and lifted up,
and shall be very high’.

A high as the living tree
hewn with sharpened axe,
and roughly sawn;
no carpenter’s skills evident here,
just functional in form,
propped against the Praetorium wall,
waiting and ready to bear the weight
of the condemned.

Across the city in the garden, night has fallen
like an inky cloak over the olive trees,
and shadows flit and torches flicker,
vibrating with the sound of footsteps,
the clink of weapons,
and the leaves rustle with a quiet
breath of betrayal drawing near.

Awareness of this presence,
Jesus does not hide,
but steps forward into the darkness
as though it were already light.
“For whom are you looking?”
A rhetorical question that echoes still.
And when they answer,
He names himself—
“I am he.”

At his voice, they fall back,
as though the earth itself remembers
who stands before them.
Yet he goes with them.
Bound – not by rope,
but by love.

He goes alone, surrounded by accusers,
the curious, the fearful. the scornful.
whilst in the courtyard, a fire burns low.
Peter stands among strangers,
warming his hands, as his courage cools.
disavowing thrice, “I do not know him.”
The words fall like ash on sackcloth.

And somewhere in the distance,
a rooster breaks the silence –
a sharp, unflinching truth
cutting through the night.
How easily we, too,
stand by other fires,
telling ourselves small denials
that feel like survival.

Before Pilate, truth stands silent.
Power shifts uneasily in its seat.
“What is truth?”
The question lingers, unanswered –
or perhaps already answered
in the wounded presence before him.

Here is the man, Pilate says.
Behold – the fragile flesh,
the bruised dignity,
the crown of thorns pressed deep.
Behold the weight of the world
resting on willing shoulders.

And the crowd cries out,
a crescendo of voices rising like a tempest:
“Crucify!”
The single word lands heavy,
again and again,
“Crucify! Crucify! Crucify!”
until it becomes a rhythm—
until it becomes a sentence.

And he carries it.
The weighted crossbeam,
and human strength appears to stumble,
a pause only to draw breath.
Wood on skin,
splinters on mercy,
each step a quiet surrender.

And at the height of Golgotha,
the sky seems to wait in abeyance.
Iron spikes pierce what once shaped galaxies.
Hands that healed are opened in pain.
And still – he does not curse.
Still – he does not turn away.
Instead, he remains.
Suspended between earth and heaven,
To become the bridge.

Below his feet,
grief gathers in human form –
a mother, a friend,
a handful of hearts breaking in unison.
“Woman, here is your son.”
So that even here, love makes room,
tending to the living
as life itself is poured out.

“I thirst.”
Not only for water,
but for a world made whole,
for hearts returned,
for love received.
Till – a final breath that carries eternity:
“It is finished.”

No cry of defeat, but a declaration –
like the closing note
of a song long promised.
Finished:
the burden borne,
the veil torn,
the distance closed.

So, we stand here,
at the foot of the cross,
with all that we are –
our betrayals,
our denials,
our questions,
our need.

We do not rush away.
We do not yet sing alleluia.
We stay.
Because here, in the breaking,
is love without measure.
Here, in the silence,
is mercy speaking.
Here, in death,
is the seed of life unseen.

Good Friday does not resolve – it reveals.
Revealing a God who will not remain distant,
but who enters both worlds
A king who does not conquer by force,
but by willing surrender.
A love that does not stop
at the edge of suffering—
but goes right through it.

And so, we wait.
In the quiet.
In the dark.
In the holy in-between.
For even now,
beneath the weight of sorrow,
something is stirring.
But just for today – we remember.

‘For that which had not been
told them, they shall see,
and that which they had not heard,
they shall contemplate’.

Linda Galvin 2026

Swords Into Ploughshares

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Sermon preached for Advent Sunday 2025 based on Isaiah 2:1-5 and Matthew 24:36-44

The book of Isaiah is one of my go-to books in the bible when I want to think about hope and the future. It is traditionally attributed to Isaiah ben Amoz, who prophesied during the 8th century BC, primarily in Jerusalem, whose ministry occurred during a tumultuous period in the history of the Israelite kingdom of Judah, which was marked by political instability and threats from powerful empires like Assyria and Babylon. His prophecies addressed both the immediate concerns of his time and the future of Israel.

Now, the first thing to say is that when we talk about Israel in the bible, it is not the same thing as the modern- day Zionist state that was created in 1948 through the Balfour Declaration of 1917, and we shouldn’t equate one with the other. Biblical Israel, spoke about a covenant people of God, whose religion had ancient roots, based on the Torah and the worship of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Zionism, on the other hand, is a modern political ideology that seeks to establish and maintain a Jewish state, irrespective of religious beliefs.

However, these two factors played a part in making me initially feel saddened that Isaiah’s prophecy they ‘they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more’ seems so remote today as it perhaps has throughout human history.

I would venture to say that every time each of us prays, we include a prayer for peace, it being one of the most longed for answers we seek, yet it never quite materialises in the way we hope. I think this feeling that I had was increased by having listened to a track that Elton John wrote on his album Blue Moves called “If There’s a God in Heaven (What’s He Waiting For?)”. The song is characterized by its powerful lyrics that address themes of societal breakdown, poverty, and the apparent indifference of a higher power to human suffering.

I then have to shake myself away from these thoughts and remember that God always hears our prayers, is aware of and is already dealing with these situations, by putting the right people in the right place to bring about peace, but that the gift of human free-will means that political and personal ambitions of some individuals and groups are deaf to the possibility that people could actually live in peace as a human race.

So, we look at global conflict, economic uncertainty, cultural turmoil, and natural disasters, and we wonder where history is heading and when things will finally be made right. Scripture does not shy away from that longing, and this morning’s readings speak directly to the tension of waiting, and the hope we have in God’s promises and the need to be prepared. As we enter the Advent season, we are called to prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ and the importance of being vigilant and ready for his return.

Isaiah presents a vision of the future where ‘the mountain of the Lord’s shall be established’, and ‘all the nations shall stream to it’. This powerful imagery symbolizes a time of peace and unity under God’s reign, and he encourages us to look beyond our current struggles and to envision a world transformed by God’s presence. Whilst Jesus is giving us a warning about the future – that we must be ready because the exact time of his second coming is unknown.

Isaiah sees something extraordinary: ‘In days to come’ he says, God’s mountain will be raised up, and all nations will stream to it. This is not just a picture of Israel’s hope—it’s a picture of the world’s hope. He describes a future where the desire of the nations is God Himself. This is truly remarkable because as I’ve just mentioned, our world today is drawn toward power, wealth, and conflict. But Isaiah sees a day when the gravitational pull of the world shifts—when people are attracted not by violence or self-interest, but by the wisdom, justice, and beauty of God.

Then we have that most beautiful promise of complete peace, because all thoughts and means of conflict will end. Isaiah is not offering a politician’s promise or a human dream. He is offering God’s future. A future where instruments of destruction become tools of cultivation. A future where military forces are no longer needed. A future where peace is not maintained by threat, but by transformation.

Isaiah’s vision doesn’t end simply with this poetic imagery, the following verse is a command to walk in the light now. ‘O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!’. In other words, live now as if that future is already coming, by letting the future shape the present.

So, if Isaiah is showing us the goal, Jesus shows us the urgency. Jesus says very clearly, ‘But about that day and hour no one knows…only the Father. He also uses a simple but sobering image: a homeowner who would have stayed awake if he knew when the thief was coming. This timing belongs to God alone; not to angels, nor prophets, not to the most educated believers, not even Jesus in his earthly humanity. We cannot predict the day, we can only prepare for it.

‘They shall beat their swords into ploughshares,
and their spears into pruning-hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more’

Jesus compares his second coming to the days of Noah. People were eating, drinking, marrying—living ordinary lives—when suddenly everything changed in an instant. There will be no email alert, no breaking-news headline, no world calendar reminder. Life will be going on as usual when Christ returns, which is precisely why we must always be ready. A readiness born out of love, loyalty, and longing—not anxiety.

Isaiah says God’s future is glorious – walk toward it. Jesus says God’s coming is unexpected – stay awake for it. So how are we invited to live between these two messages? Well, Isaiah invites us to allow the future peace of God to shape the way we see today’s world. Christians are not naïve optimists who pretend evil doesn’t exist. We are hopeful realists who believe evil does not have the final word. When the world is filled with conflict, when nations threaten nations, when peace seems impossible – Isaiah reminds us that God has already declared the ending.

And Jesus says readiness is not about predicting the future – it’s about being faithful in the present. Being ready does not mean standing on a hilltop, staring up at the sky. It means doing the everyday work of discipleship: loving our neighbours, seeking justice, forgiving enemies, serving the poor, praying without ceasing, living with integrity, practicing mercy, following Jesus when no one else is watching; and that’s plenty to keep our thoughts and bodies occupied in doing what we are called to do.

Jesus’ words challenge us to examine our priorities and how we spend our time. Are we focused on the mundane aspects of life, or are we actively seeking to grow in our faith and relationship with God? It is a call to action, urging us to reflect on how we can contribute to this vision of peace and justice in our own lives and communities. It challenges us to be agents of change, promoting reconciliation and understanding among nations.

The world may look dark at times, but dawn always begins in the dark. And the church is called to be a people standing on the edge of morning – a people whose lives shine with the coming light of God.

So, this Advent let us commit to deepening our relationship with God, through prayer, reading the scriptures, and acts of service. These things help us stay focused on what truly matters and prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ. To be inspired to live out our faith actively, contributing to the vision of peace and justice that Isaiah proclaims.

This Advent season, let us prepare our hearts and lives for the arrival of our Saviour, who comes to bring light and hope to the world, to anticipate the celebration of Christ’s
birth but also prepare for his ultimate return, living each day in the light of His love and grace.

This Advent let us pray for peace and know that the Prince of Peace comes to show us the way.

Amen

When looking for an image to go with this particular blog I came across this poignant painting. I would not dare to suggest what the artist, Michael Cook’s own thoughts were behind its composition, but it speaks to me of longing and hope, that in the midst of war there is a reason for fighting and a dream that new life will come, and that swords will truly be made into ploughshares. This beautiful piece of artwork was commissioned by Melbourne Parish Council to commemorate the centenary of the Armistice, and all money from sales goes back to the Parish Council. https://www.hallowed-art.co.uk/product/swords-into-ploughshares/

The Perfect Time In The Perfect Way

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Sermon preached on Holy Cross Day – 14th September 2025 based on Philippians 2:6-11, John 3:13-17

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen

This morning, I want to start with a series of question for you to think about. What if Jesus had never come 2000 years ago, and instead was born just before the beginning of the twenty first century, around 1992 say?  What would his birth, life and ministry have looked like in the present day, but more importantly, how would it end, in order to produce the same results of millions of people coming to believe in him and in God as part of a worldwide religion?

Would he have been shot with an assassin’s bullet? Both the good and the bad have died in this way. Would he have been caught up in some major disaster, helping others and dying? With all of the social media available today, would his death have been filmed and the world clicked more than a million times on the video, with sad, caring emojis, whilst the responses became full of condolences, tasteless humour and vitriolic comments?

The problem is – and it’s not one that I want to try and reconcile at the moment – is that being legally condemned and sentenced to death is no longer an option in our justice systems.

Which is why I believe that Jesus died at the perfect time and in the perfect way.

Whatever we might think of the Jewish or Roman systems of justice, the fact that it offered crucifixion as the ultimate punishment, has enabled us to use it as means to truly see the extent of God’s love for the world and us as individuals. Which is why today the church celebrates Holy Cross Day in its calendar of liturgical feast days for remembering and honouring saints and on this occasion holy objects.

From as early as the seventh century, the church celebrated this feast day to acknowledge a particular event. This was a discovery on the 14th of September around 326AD, by Helena, the mother of the Roman emperor Constantine, of what many believed to the empty tomb and true cross of Christ during a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

She had ordered a pagan temple to be destroyed, which revealed, buried underneath, three crosses, which were assumed to be the crosses of Jesus and the two thieves. A painting by Agnolo Gaddi completed in 1380 in the choir of the Franciscan Basilica of the Holy Cross in Florence (see image above) depicts Helena making this discovery.

A first glance the painting presents six crosses, which makes it look a little like a builder’s yard in which Helena is trying to decide which cross is the real one. However, closer inspection reveals that the artist has joined two parts of the story together into one image, and on the left-hand side, in order to determine which one is that of Christ, Helena has a dying woman in a bed brought to the site, who was completely healed at the touch of the third cross. The right-hand side appears to be the cross being erected on the site of the church of the Holy Sepulchre that Emperor Constantine had built at a later date.

The story was also recorded by Jacobus de Voraigne in his book, The Golden Legend, which became an immensely popular and influential source of Christian lore during the Middle Ages, providing a convenient educational resource for clergy and laity alike, presented in an accessible, narrative style. It was one of the most widely read books of its time, second only to the Bible, and significantly influenced medieval art, poetry, and stained-glass windows, allowing ordinary, everyday people the chance to visualise the stories, many of which they were unable to read for themselves.

Helena’s ‘True Cross’ was subsequently brought back to Europe as a prize of the early church, and as news of it began to spread, countless pieces and splinters began showing up all over the continent.  The great majority, however, were forgeries (many made from wood that does not even exist in the Holy Land); and while Helena’s cross probably did come from Jerusalem, and while it almost certainly was a real cross in the sense that it was used for executions, there would have been hundreds, if not thousands of such crosses in Judea, to which we should add the likelihood that recycling, decomposition and the conversion to firewood after too many uses, makes its authenticity questionable.

Based on this, it is highly unlikely that the actual physical cross on which Jesus died would have been discovered. The fact is we don’t really need it to be so, because rather that seeing the cross as an object of worship in itself, it is better to recognise it as a symbol of Jesus’ sacrifice and salvation. It reminds us to boast in nothing, ‘except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ’.

We may regularly make the sign of the cross and many choose to bow to the cross in our liturgy, not as an idol to be prayed to, but a potent visual symbol that embodies the depth of God’s love and the height of Christ’s glory at the perfect time and in the perfect way.

The cross is both scandal and glory, weakness and power, shame and victory. When we look at the cross, we see the deepest mystery of our faith: the Son of God humbling himself to the lowest place in order to raise us up to life. The cross is not an accident of history, but the perfect plan of God’s redeeming love.

Paul tells us whilst Jesus had equality with God he does not cling to this glory. Instead, He empties himself, taking the form of a servant, entering our humanity, and embracing the frailty of flesh, which means he goes lower still, through obedience to God and to death, through the most shameful, agonizing death the world could imagine: the cross; …which was the lowest place imaginable. It was not only brutal but humiliating, reserved for criminals, designed to shame as well as kill. This shows us how far God was willing to go for our salvation. It strips away any illusion that we can earn God’s love.

As Jesus explains to Nicodemus, the Son of Man must be lifted up, which refers both to the cross and to his glory and exaltation. ‘For God so loved the world’ and the cross is the measure of that love. The cross is not about wrath unleashed but love poured out.

And we know that the story does not end in humiliation. The cross is not just a place of suffering. It is the turning point of history. It is the moment when the King is revealed at the perfect time and in the perfect way —not in worldly power, but in sacrificial love. His throne is a cross. His crown is of thorns, and he reigns forever.

The cross is our landmark, our anchor, our hope.

At the cross we see the depth of God’s love—so deep that He gave his only Son for us.

At the cross we see the height of Christ’s glory—so high that every knee will bow before him.

So let us look to the cross—not as spectators, but as believers.  We must allow it to shape how we live. We are called to humility, to self-giving love, to obedience to God’s will. The cross calls us to trust—not in our own strength, but in the love of God revealed in Jesus.

To take up our cross is to walk the path of humility, to put others before ourselves, to live in sacrificial love. The world may see that as weakness. But at the foot of the cross, we know it is the way of Christ, the way of true life, in fact the perfect life, to be lived at the perfect time and in the perfect way. Amen.

Do You Know How Much That Cost?

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Sermon preached on Passion Sunday 6th April 2025 based on John 12:1-8 and Philippians 3:4b-14

‘Do you know how much that cost? I could have used that for a lifetime,’ was the heated response to discovering my best perfume bottle smashed on the bathroom floor and my two daughters looking guilty, but both ready to finger point the blame on the other. ‘But mummy, we were playing princesses and you always look like a princess when you go to one of daddy’s balls, and we wanted to smell the same’.

How could one carry on being angry, with that explanation, but I did try hard for a little while longer and there was no pudding at dinner time…

The fact is we make a lot of value judgements, about things that we think are precious, we sometimes even hoard things, thinking that one day we will benefit from being the only one that has a year’s supply of toilet paper, and we salt our money away forgetting that it will be of no value to us when the final curtain comes down, and we have not made any memories for those who come after us to share.

Now I’m not suggesting that we should waste these things, and we are not going to solve world hunger or provide for all those less fortunate than ourselves overnight, but knowing when to be generous, not only with your money or your time but your love is surely more important.

In our gospel reading today we find Jesus once more visiting the home of his dear friends, Mary, Martha and Lazarus. He is on his way to Jerusalem to face a fate that will ultimately prove all of the things that he has taught his followers and fulfil the prophetic messages that the Saviour of the World, the Messiah has lived among them. It’s a fate that he accepts willingly but which is much harder to accept for those who have loved and known him as a man living among them, a man which the words of one worship song describes as ‘way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper, light in the darkness’.

Of all the people surrounding Jesus that day in the house, it was Mary who realised that now was not the time to hoard her most precious possession, but to use it unstintingly to show her devotion to the person who had commended her choice to sit at his feet and had taught her everything she needed to know about how life should be lived.

Now it was her turn to offer a deep reverence and recognition of Jesus’ impending sacrifice. It also held a rich symbolic meaning, that through the act of anointing, an action usually reserved for the consecration of priests and kings, she recognised Jesus as the true Messiah. Where she once sat, she now anoints his feet with her hair, displaying humility and devotion.

Her use of pure nard, a valuable and aromatic oil, signifies the importance and sacredness of the moment, and its perfume was bittersweet, filling the house with its fragrance, but also a prophetic act foreshadowing Jesus’ death and burial. His acknowledgement that this was done ‘in advance of my burial’ also allows us, who already know what is to come, that there would be no need to follow the normal burial rituals as there would be no body in the tomb which to anoint!

Still, there has to be a killjoy to this incredible act of devotion, and here is where Judas steps in. I have to admit that having written a thesis on whether he might be identified as God’s scapegoat, I have own up to having a soft spot for the reviled figure of Judas.

Without Judas at this time there would have been no ‘betrayal’, no manipulated trial, no crucifixion and thereby no resurrection. Perhaps it was inevitable that someone amongst his followers would have eventually turned against him, with the promise of financial reward, but the poignancy that it was one of the disciples at this point in the story is both hard for us to comprehend as its consequences were to be for Judas.

Being a disciple meant having a unique and intimate relationship with Jesus, which makes Judas’s later actions even more significant and tragic. John’s stark statement, ‘the one who was about to betray him’ foreshadows the fulfilment of Old Testament prophecies, such as Psalm 41:9, which speaks of a close friend lifting his heel against the psalmist.

Even my close friend, someone I trusted, one who shared my bread, has turned against me.
Psalm 41:9

Moreover, Judas’ betrayal is a critical event in the Passion narrative, raising questions about predestination and human responsibility, as Judas’ action were foreknown by Jesus, yet he acted of his own volition. Here was someone who must have grown to know the true value of being one of Jesus’ disciples, but who wasn’t ready to give his all if it meant giving up what was precious to him, his life, which is ironic as his decision ended up with him doing just that.

Judas’s questioning attitude contrasts with the faith and devotion expected of a disciple and follower, highlighting his internal conflict and eventual betrayal. For John the Evangelist, who was writing his gospel some fifty years after the events of Jesus’ passion, his thoughts about why and what Judas had done had not improved with age. His scathing remarks about a thief, who stole from the common purse, does not speak of love and forgiveness, and by this time the name of Judas had become an idiom to mean someone whom you accused of being deceitful and a betrayer of friends or country.

And then there is Paul, persecutor turned zealot, but with good reason. As a 1st century Jew, he could claim to have attained a sufficient righteousness before God, exemplified by adhering to the Torah’s commandments and engaging in acts of loving-kindness, aiming to be a light unto the nations and fulfilling his purpose as one of God’s chosen people.

Yet this valuable store of righteousness, is being cast aside in exchange for what Christ is offering instead. Not a righteousness ‘that comes from the law, but one that comes through faith’. Everything is being swept aside as ‘rubbish’, of so little worth because of the value of the heavenly prize that Jesus offers, eventual resurrection from the dead.

So where do we see ourselves in all of this? Are we willing to give up everything? Do we give up those things that are precious to us to show how much faith we have?

The fact is each and everyone of us is seen by God as individuals, people who face daily decisions about how we live our lives. He knows the choices we have to make about how we spend our time and our money, but more importantly about how we share our love and our care for others. How we share the Good News that Jesus’ passion brings for all of us.

Perhaps this could be a new beginning as once more over the next couple of weeks we are going to hear the story of the greatest gift ever offered to us all. Let’s just make sure that we really hear the message and be prepared to accept and continue to generously share it each and every day going forward.

Amen

Letting Go

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Talk based on John 17:11-19

I wonder how many of you, if you’ve ever been a parent, or have trained someone in an apprenticeship or simply have given some instructions and then had to leave someone to carry them out without supervision. Then we come a point that we all have to let someone go in order for them to flourish on their own. It can cause much heartache and a lot of prayer that they will remember everything you have taught them.

I can remember both of my girls leaving home and the feeling of helplessness that I wouldn’t be there to step in and protect them if they came up against some adversity, and over the years, like everyone I suspect, from time to time things have not always gone smoothly. but I have prayed to God that he would be there with them, and sure enough whether the outcome was what I would have wanted or not, he seems to have answered my prayers.

Of course, I haven’t had to face those times of feeling powerless to act alone, and reaching out for prayer from others and sharing my concerns has helped me see what is happening a little clearer and gain greater understanding that a mother cannot always make things better with a hug and a magic kiss – although it works with my grandchildren… but that prayer can be the most valuable thing I can do.

In today’s gospel, Jesus’ prayer for his disciples continues from that we heard on Sunday, and like a lot of John’s gospel it is full of theological toing and froing around the topic – but at its heart it is telling us that Jesus will be letting go of his earthly protection of the disciples and it handing them into the care of the Father. He has taught them how to live by God’s Word and has warned them of the dangers they will face as his followers in their lives on earth. He knows that this will set them at odds with a lot of people. He needs them now to take up the reins of his ministry and start to do things for themselves, however hard that might be to start with.

So how good a job did they do on their own?

For nearly 2000 years the Word of God has been lived by millions of people, from that small group of Jews become Christians to worldwide mission and founding principles of many democracies. Not everyone has agreed that it is linked to a higher power than that on earth. Its radical idea of living in a loving community, of showing vulnerability and forgiveness has caused many to decry its power. For the disciples themselves, not many lived to see old age but became matyrs. However, they remained true to their mission and set an example for others to follow. And follow they did, which is probably one of the reasons that we are here today.

How often though do we feel like giving up on this difficult world of ours, so resistant to the gospel and its values; when we look at our divided world, where not even those who believe in Christ are united. Yet Jesus, who is fully aware that we share his same lot of being hated by the world, does not ask the Father to remove us from the world, but to protect us, as we do our best to carry out our mission, and we must continue to pray for healing and the overcoming of division. For the disciples and for us, we shouldn’t ask to be taken out of the world with all its messiness. This is where we belong until the time comes for us to follow Jesus to the place he was going to. We can face all of the risks and the struggle that it sometimes is for survival because we can be assured of God’s protection.

Jesus tell us that we too are being ‘sent’ in his name to continue his mission. Our mission as his followers is in the midst of and in the depths of the world. He wants his love and message inserted in the centre of the world, the city, the neighbourhood. In following him in mission and love, we are ourselves blessed. Jesus’ love for the disciples didn’t fade because he wasn’t with them any longer, it endures eternally. When he asks God to protect and guide them this is a request that includes all those that have come after and are going forward today

The reality of the risen Christ is that, from now on, nothing and no one will ever be able to separate us from his love and the same is true for those we love. Parents and guardians spend their best years guiding children in life and in faith. Then there is a gradual letting go as they grow into adulthood.

Like Jesus we should pray for those who move beyond our active care. This morning, at this very moment, my daughter Ruth is in hospital undergoing a planned C-Section operation for the early arrival of my latest grandchild. She is beyond my physical reach, but I am praying for her and the doctors and nurses, for their skills and protection. But most of all I have placed them in God’s hands, because the Father’s arms are a safe place for them and for us.

Amen

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What’s In A Name?

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Sermon preached at St Peter’s, Boyatt Wood on New Year’s Day 2023 based on readings Luke 2:15-21 and Psalm 8

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of our Lord; Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen

Names are important to us, at least I’m very attached to mine. It allows me to be identified through my passport and bank account. It put me in my place on the school register and other lists, and it gives me a place within my family history… It’s also useful for people to grab my attention.

As parents we might have agonised for months what our unborn child should be called. Maybe we had a family name in mind, or we read baby name books to try and find something a little unusual and more unique, or perhaps we checked what the initials might spell, after all would it be easy to go through life as Graham Oliver Downes?

If you had been born a boy in Tudor times you would probably have received one of only seven names, John, Thomas, William, Robert, Richard, Henry or Edward, and been the same as every other Tom, Dick or Harry.

However, our parents today did not have any of these problems, because the name of their son had already been decided for them. He was to be called Jesus. His name had been decided before Mary had even known she would become pregnant and was told to her by the angel Gabriel, ‘And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus’ (Luke 1:31).

Joseph, too, was informed in a dream, ‘do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins’ (Matthew 1:20-21). And he did just that, from Matthew’s gospel we hear that, ‘he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus’ (Matthew 1:25).

It is only in Luke though that we hear that Jesus undergoes the Jewish ritual of circumcision, at 8 days old, and receives the name ‘given by the angel’.

Actually, the name Jesus was quite popular in first-century Judea. For this reason, we often hear him being distinguished by his childhood home, when he is ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ His neighbours would have simply known him as the son of Joseph the carpenter, but his name was important for other reasons.

The name Jesus, announced to Joseph and Mary through the angels, means ‘God (or Yahweh in Hebrew) saves’ or ‘Yahweh is salvation.’ Transliterated his name is Yeshua, a combination of Ya, an abbreviation for Yahweh, and the verb yasha, meaning to rescue, deliver or save. Now we can see it’s significance when applied to the person of God who has become our Saviour.

Jesus was sent by God for that particular purpose, to save us, and his personal name bears witness to that mission. In Acts we hear Peter, emboldened by the Holy Spirit declare, ‘There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved’ (Acts 4:12). Mortals, whom we hear in this morning’s Psalm, God is mindful of, having ‘made them a little lower than’ himself. Yet who will be saved?

The call of salvation goes out into all the world, and all who come to God through Christ become part of the people of God. They are to be saved from their sins through the power of the Holy Spirit, and when I say ‘they’, I include all of us here today. This is truly the good news of Christmas. The baby born on Christmas Eve is the Son of God who came to save his people from their sins.

If ever a name was packed with significance, it is the name Jesus. It is the name that establishes the tone for everything we should do, ‘in word or deed’ as Christians. We are called to proclaim that salvation is in the name of Jesus alone, that we receive forgiveness through his name and that at our baptism we will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. Healing and miracles were performed in the name of Jesus, and he teaches us to pray in his name, so that as John’s gospel tells us, ‘I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it’ (John 14:13-14).

In every way, Jesus lives up to His name. His name reminds us of the power, presence, and purpose of the risen Christ. It assures us that God’s gracious intention is to save us. Our Lord Jesus brought God to humanity and now brings humans to God through the salvation he purchased.

But what of our names? It is easy to overlook the extraordinary nature of Luke’s statement that Jesus’ name was told to Mary pre-conception, implying God’s pre-knowledge of Jesus and the role he would assume. Of course, we can read the Old Testament prophecies about a Saviour, and accept that, as one of the Persons of the Trinity, Jesus would have been ‘known’ before he began his life as one of us.

The fact is that we too have always been known and ‘named’ before we were conceived. If we read verses from Psalm 139, about an all-knowing God, For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb… My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.

God knows all of us by name. We are not just numbers. We are persons with names and each of us have a different life story. There are millions of us, yet God knows each of us personally. We should never forget that. God does not treat us impersonally either. He knows our history. He knows our struggles. He knows our personalities. He knows us inside out. Yet he loves us without hesitation. We don’t need to fake anything in order to be good enough for God. We can come as we are and know that God receives us with great joy. God knows us by name.

I can think of no better way to start a New Year than with a fresh realization that we are wholly and deeply known to a loving God, and that, whatever our individual ‘name’ may be, our own unique and distinctive calling which we are continually discovering, if we are Christians, is to walk under the banner of the name of Jesus Christ.

 O Lord, our Sovereign,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!

Amen

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The Light Shines In The Darkness

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Sermon preached on the Second Sunday Before Lent based on the following passages – John 1:1-14 and Colossians 1:15-20

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of our Lord; Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen

In the beginning was the Word… perhaps one of the most evocative starts to a gospel or indeed any scripture, where we are presented by a mystery. Of course, one would expect nothing less of John and whilst all four gospels can be said to be biographies of Jesus, as the former Archbishop of Canterbury William Temple once said, ‘the Synoptic Gospels [i.e. Matthew, Mark and Luke] are like photo albums, whilst John’s gospel is like a portrait’, and a portrait is something we can spend many hours standing in front of to try and gauge what the artist is trying to tell us.

In the beginning was the Word… John’s opening sentence echoes the opening words of the book of Genesis which firmly places the Word in creation, communicating God’s will and evidence that it is eternal and has always been at work throughout.

With its capital ‘W’ we can see that it is a title not a noun or a verb, and John identifies the Word as God in the person of Jesus; and although the term Word or the Greek Logos is not retained as a title in John’s Gospel beyond the prologue, the whole gospel presses the basic claim that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit together are one God. Here is God present to his people and knowable to his people in self-revelation and redemption.

Accordingly, Jesus is the source of life and light for all people everywhere; but what of that light? God had sent an advance messenger in John the Baptist to provide testimony as to the true light. A light that will enlighten, educate and clarify God’s purpose in wanting to redeem all who will believe in him. A light that will dispel the darkness and evil that shrouds the world in so many places.

Certainly, over the last year we have seen a lot of darkness in the world; darkness that is more like an invisible fog that clings to bodies and minds. Yet the one thing that has kept many people going is a sense of faith that there is hope for the future. In amongst all that darkness a small flicker of hope has burned steadily, ‘and the darkness did not overcome it’.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it
John 1:5

And today, more than ever that small flame is burning even more brightly as we appear to be at a turning point in the Coronavirus pandemic, with the vaccine programme rollout and lockdown measures reducing the rate of infection. Yet, we can’t reduce God’s role to that of a single unextinguishable tealight!

However, the light is indeed eternal, and as mentioned, is a light that will enlighten people everywhere. It is a spiritual light, that awakens a response to the person of Jesus, but it is also a light that kindles in our heart and minds the knowledge and skills needed to bring light to others. 

In flashes of inspiration or eureka moments – from Archimedes in his bath; Newton under his apple tree and the scientists at AstraZeneca in their test tubes, to the light that shines out from people’s eyes in simple acts of kindness and love done purely for the benefit of others.

There is nothing that can stop this light from shining and yet people still choose, just as Jesus’ own people did, to turn away, to shield their eyes and fail to recognise God even when he walks among them.

And walk among them he did, which was quite extraordinary, that the Word of God, the agent of creation, should choose to become ‘flesh’, to become a human being, taking on our nature, with all its wayward appetites and frailties. But just like then, his death could not extinguish the light, and those who believe in him, whether then or now, all creatures of the original creation find themselves transformed through his blood on the cross into a new spiritual creation, as children of God, in which the light of Christ resides.

This then is the light that we all have within us as followers of Christ. Even so, for many people there have been times when the surrounding darkness has threatened to overwhelm us, unable to fully imagine the number of deaths related to the Coronavirus, the mental anguish of being parted from loved ones, the exhaustion, the rules, the sheer inescapable nature of the way we are having to live our lives; it all takes its toll.

Yet, the light still shines deep within us. slow and steady – we just have to allow it push away some of that darkness, to hand over our worries and concerns to God, to let him reveal the signs of hope and new life for each of us, just as he revealed his glory in the life of Jesus.

A ‘glory’ not as a radiant vision or dazzling light but in his sacrificial love for the world that revealed his true worth. Centuries before, Moses realised that God ‘is compassionate and gracious… abounding in love and faithfulness’ but it is God’s Son who is ‘full of grace and truth’. And it is through this Grace that the invisible God is never truly hidden but is always revealed in the perfect light of his son, Jesus Christ, the light for and of the whole world, now and forever. Amen

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The Wisdom Of The Wise Men

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Divine Wisdom by Shiloh Sophia McCloud

A sermon for Epiphany based on the readings Ephesians 3:1-12 and Matthew 2:1-12

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of our Lord; Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen

What makes a wise man or woman for that matter? Is it having knowledge of many things? Is it using the knowledge you have to make wise decisions? I would say it needs to be both, after all knowing that a tomato is a fruit does not mean it will go well in a fresh fruit salad…. or maybe it would if you’re Heston Blumenthal!

Today Matthew gives us a beautifully compact version of the story of the wise men, no word is wasted. I say version, because there is an ancient manuscript, The Revelation of the Magi, but that is an apocryphal gnostic text, so let’s stick with the gospel.

These men have the knowledge that they have gained from studying the stars, researching their own texts and discerning what the appearance of an apparently new star might mean. They could have parked that knowledge there, recorded it for future generations to wonder if it were in fact, just the alignment of Jupiter and Saturn to produce a Great Conjunction that we could witness in 2020, for the first time in 800 years.

But then it wouldn’t have got the more familiar name of ‘the Christmas Star’. What they did was to use this knowledge to make a wise decision, to follow it and see where it might lead, and to come prepared to honour a child that was foretold to be the king of the Jews, a king worthy of homage and the travails of the journey.  

So, these were indeed wise men. Then I found this unattributed quote that says, ‘Wisdom is the perfection of knowledge of the righteous as a gift from God showing itself in action’. Surely in this story, here is wisdom as knowledge and wisdom in action.

‘Wisdom is the perfection of knowledge of the righteous
as a gift from God showing itself in action’

But what of wisdom itself? Over my desk, I have a lovely painting of a figure entitled Divine Wisdom, she is called Sophia, the Greek word for wisdom, and she is a central idea in Hellenistic philosophy and Christian theology. She appears in the Book of Proverbs, ‘Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice’ (Proverbs 1:20). However, she come into her own in one of the accepted apocryphal books which is often used in our lectionary of readings, The Book of Wisdom. She is described as, ‘more beautiful than the sun, and excels every constellation of the stars. Compared with the light she is found to be superior (Wisdom 7:29) and ‘She gave to holy people the reward of their labours; she guided them along a marvellous way, and became a shelter to them by day, and a starry flame through the night’ (Wisdom 10:17).

The Book of Wisdom, was written about fifty years before the coming of Christ. Its unknown author was probably a member of the Jewish community at Alexandria in Egypt and his profound knowledge of the earlier Old Testament writings is reflected in almost every line of the book; the first ten chapters in particular providing background for the teaching of Jesus and some New Testament theology about Jesus. However, its primary purpose was to convey the message about the splendour and worth of wisdom.

Accordingly, here too is wisdom as knowledge and wisdom in action.

In Jesus, the mystery of God was revealed, as Paul tells the Ephesians ‘In former generations this mystery was not made known to humankind, as it has now been revealed to his holy apostles and prophets (Ephesians 3:5)’ and it was to those who not only gained this knowledge but who were to act upon it that wisdom was given, ‘so that through the church the wisdom of God in its rich variety might now be made known to the rulers and authorities (Ephesians 3:10)’

So why should we, as the church and as individual seek wisdom today?

Well, there has been much over the last year that has tested us like never before. The free will that we have, to gain knowledge and learn and discover, means that we are much wiser about a virus that has threatened and changed nearly every aspect of our lives.

Wisdom and knowledge have led us to develop new medical devices, procedures and medicines as we have pooled that knowledge. Our governments and global organisations have had to gain wisdom and knowledge to understand what is happening and then to apply that knowledge in the wisest way possible.

Of course, there are always those who would say they have not always been so very wise, and hindsight is a wonderful thing; but whilst the foolish or unwise have developed conspiracy theories that frighten and disable, theories that can be debunked just as quickly as they spring up, wisdom enables us to recognise the difference.

Definitely then, wisdom as knowledge and wisdom in action

On an individual level, I think we have learned a lot about ourselves. Maybe things that have surprised us. We have experienced emotions and seen and heard things first-hand as never before in our lives, whether we are young or old, wise or unwise.  

However, as Christians we are privileged to receive God’s grace that gives wisdom. Our knowledge of God and our faith enables us to see his leading, to hear his guidance and gives us a heart of courage to journey faithfully and find our way even when the path may seem difficult and dark.

It also means that we are enabled to reach out and to bring light into the lives of those around us. To shine in the darkness by putting our knowledge of God into action – to make known the wisdom of God.

The star that shone so brightly some two thousand years ago, can still illuminate and reveal the way – the way that leads to a child, who would grow into a king. The king of the Jews, the king of all God’s children, the king of the past, the present and the future, the king of kings, the wisest king of all!

Amen

The Magi

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The Right Man In The Right Place At The Right Time

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San Juan Bautista, Alvise Vivarini, c1475

Sermon preached on the second Sunday of Advent 2020 based on the following readings 2 Peter 3:8-15a and Mark 1:1-8

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of our Lord; Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen

We have a saying in our family, ‘Patience is a virtue, virtue is a Grace. Grace is a little girl who wouldn’t wash her face!’ It was often quoted when one or other of the children were eager to attain something sooner rather that wait. Of course, waiting when you’re very young can be a hard thing to do, especially if it’s something exciting that might be about to happen; but it’s no less hard waiting whatever your age.

In Peter’s letter he is faced with a congregation who are disillusioned and impatient by the non-appearance of Jesus coming in glory, definitely an event to be excited about. Even so, the ‘I want it now’s don’t get – they need to learn a little more grace. Instead he encourages them to live lives of holiness and godliness, to wait in ‘peace, without spot or blemish’. After all God’s time-relativity is different to ours. Except, there is still the need to be ready for the unknown moment of his return to the Earth.

But patience is not an attribute recognised by the writer of Mark’s gospel, as he takes us back to the beginning of the story. He starts off like a bullet train out of the station and to be honest never slows down or pause to take on water or fuel till the very end… an end that actually needed something added to it later!

His opening sentence is like a shout, a proclamation, a declaration of intent, ‘the beginning of the good news’. This is the gospel ‘of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, a word derived from the Anglo-Saxon term god-spell, meaning ‘good story’. No starlit stable, no paternity angst, no migratory gift bearers, just straight into the reason that he was here on earth amongst us – to redeem us for all time.

Nevertheless, his first appearance is heralded by an unlikely character, a wild man of the desert, clad in camel’s hair and sustained by a diet of kosher protein and wild honey (locusts are mentioned in Leviticus as a ‘clean’ food). John the Baptist certainly dressed like Elijah and was fulfilling the prophecy of Isaiah to be ‘the messenger’ who was preparing the people of God for the long-awaited Messiah.

But why was this messenger so different from the many prophets that God had send before? What was it about this man that was attracting people to come out into the wilderness from the region of Judea and Jerusalem to be dipped in a river as a sign that were re-turning towards God – a baptism of repentance.

Well, it had been about 500 years since Malachi had stepped off the earthly stage, and since then no genuine prophetic voices had been heard.  Without a prophet, people in the land began to divide into parties and groups, each claiming the right to interpret the scriptures and lead the people.

So, the time was ripe for the long-awaited Messiah to appear, even so we could ask why this was the moment in time that God chose to do so? What we do know is that he came according to God’s time schedule, as Paul states in Galatians, ‘When the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law’ (Galatians 4:4-5)

And if we were to try and put forward a reason why it was a perfect time for the spread of the gospel, we might assume that the Pax Romana, a time of peace in the Roman Empire, and great road and water transport systems, allowed for information to be passed quickly. In addition, Greek was a common language with allowed the Gospel to be communicated to a wide range of peoples, although language is no barrier to the Holy Spirit.

Today’s technological advances in global communications might suggest that now would have been a better time to reveal the Messiah, but would people be prepared to go and submit to a need for repentance from an eccentric looking, religious firebrand in the wilderness of our city suburbs? Yet alone recognise and accept Jesus?

But do not ignore this one fact, beloved,
that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years,
and a thousand years are like one day.
2 Peter 3:8

God always communicates with us in ways we can understand and twenty first century humanity has sufficient reason to believe in Jesus. That he chose to come some two thousand years ago does not change the fact that he came and fulfilled everything that the Bible had predicted. Two thousand years ago, people were ready and able to understand just enough to get the message across; after all for the Lord, ‘a thousand years are like one day’ so it was God’s perfect time for him to come to us.

But it was not to be in the way that most people expected. He would not be a military leader. He would not crush the Romans and set up a Jewish state. The true Messiah would seem utterly defeated before he won.

Yet win he would, and John the Baptist knew this. Although his water of baptism would physically and metaphorically wash people clean from their sins, the power and glory of Jesus would lie in his ability to immerse, plunge or drench people in the Holy Spirit (from the Greek word baptizo).

For us, this drenching means that we are forgiven and brought back into a proper relationship with God; we are blessed with powerful gifts to prepare us for service and for building up the body of Christ, and we are given hope for the future, whatever that looks like and whenever it happens

As Peter says, ‘The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance.’ We can’t hurry time, but this Advent we can repeat our heartfelt wish – Maranatha – come Lord Jesus. Come amongst us and be with us once again and we will welcome you

Amen

Maranatha written in the Southwick Codex

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