Friends like these...

Given the pandemic, it now feels quite apt that I chose for daily reflection during Lent the book of Job. However, when I set myself and the churches I serve the challenge of reading our way through this book of the Bible, I did not realise how difficult the words would become to read as Job's pain and his friends explanation rub up against what we are experiencing.

For those of you who may never have ventured into the book of Job, it is a book of the Old Testament which is a fictional story of man who suffers greatly through no fault of his own. In the opening chapters we are told that what happens to Job comes from what might be best described as a bet between God and Satan. Satan reckons he can get Job to turn his back on God, God believes otherwise and tells Satan to do his worst! However, Job and his friends have no knowledge of what had passed between God and Satan, so the story is them trying to work out why all that happened to Job happened.

Although God is very much within the story and as a book of wisdom helps the reader wrestle with the character of God, we also find, upon the pages, a very human response to suffering. We find in the conversation that erupts between Job and his friends a search for reason and for blame. To slightly over simplify the response of Job's friends: Job must have done something wrong for all that he endures. Now, however unfounded Job's friends explanations are in trying to bring understanding to Job's plight, I have come to see what passed between them in a different light in recent days.

It would not make for a very good story, but if I could end the book of Job prematurely, then I would draw it to a close in chapter 2:

Now when Job's three friends heard of all these troubles that had come upon him, each of them set our from his home ... They met together to go and console and comfort him. When they saw him from a distance, they did not recognise him, and they raised their voices and threw dust in the air upon their heads. They sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great. (Job 2.11-13, NRSV)

However, even though some of what passes between Job and his friends makes me feel uncomfortable and I would never dream of saying that to a good friend, I see in some ways Job's friends, in making Job proclaim his innocence and give voice to the injustice he clearly felt, actually helps Job and the reader make sense of it all. They help Job and us rise from the ashes.

This weekend, I heard for the first time the Script's single 'Run through Walls' and it instantly reminded me of Job and his friends. As you can hear, if you click the video link below, Job's friends might not seem immediately recognisable, but then there is the line: 'Friends won't let you do stupid things alone'. Job's friends did not let Job wrestle with his pain or God alone.

In these difficult times, we might not be able to go and physically be with our friends, but we do not have to let them face this alone. We can still all cry together, ask the stupid questions and carry each one through and rise from the ashes.

Prayer:

Almighty God, as we look around us
seeing the pain and suffering,
the fear and uncertainty,
we cry to you and question why.

Like Job we sit in the ashes,
knowing what is best to do.

Then our friends turn us
and we question together,
we search for reason
and look upon you awesomeness
without know how to respond.

Thank you for those friends,
those that call and carry the burden with us.
Protect us all in this hour of need
in Jesus Christ we pray, Amen

No church on Sunday, road closed...

This Sunday one of the town churches I serve is having to keep its doors closed because very few of the congregation can get to church because of road closures for an event. And it is not that people cannot get from one side of the town to another, they are not able to get to the church itself. This has made me quite angry, as once again it has felt like we are the only worship community in the town that does not matter. None of the other churches who are effected by the closures are being restricted to the extent we are—the only way to get to the church is by walking or riding a bike, we are told, we cannot marshal a small section of road to let you get to and from the church in cars. Therefore, when you have an elderly, gathered congregation and no Sunday public transport system that adequately serves the people or the location in the town where the church is, the only option is to keep the doors closed.

As I have been grumbling away about this, however, climate change has again made the headlines with protests and some large town centres being closed to cars for a day. Within the United Reformed Church we have decisions being taken over investments so that we no longer invest in fossil fuel. There is a passion for eco-churches and the want to be carbon neutral. Therefore, even though the event that has closed the road outside the church has nothing to do with this issue, the fact the town is being encouraged not to use their cars for a day to get around we should be celebrating and encouraging.

On one hand, I want to. I want to support all these ventures to decrease the carbon output into the atmosphere. But on the other hand, I feel backed into a corner—I have five churches, all gathered congregations, all of whom without people being able to drive to them on a Sunday would either be empty or have no one to lead their worship. I have five churches, all of who contain folk who come to that church because their nearest church was closed. I have five churches, which in the long term are probably not sustainable with the size on congregation and membership, yet to amalgamate is not really an option because of distances and transport, not to mention the impact on our carbon footprint. If the doors were closed on some of the more rural churches in the area I serve, then it would not be the start of a new exciting venture, it would be the desertion of small, faithful groups of Christians.

There is no arguing that the figures show us that the United Reformed Church has more church buildings than it can feasibly sustain with its membership levels and ministerial resources. Yet, if we are passionate about the climate, how do we reduce that number of churches without asking people to travel further to church on Sunday (or at another time in the week)? And then if we are about discipleship and building up God’s people, how do we say to our folk who might be limited in their mobility but are no less faithful, that they cannot come to worship together if that means they have to come by car?

As I travel around my five churches and observe the different issues in those five communities, I wrestle to find a potential answer. In four years, I have ruled out a number of solutions and I am yet to find an idea that might be worth testing! I have got to the point that I would like to just bury my head in the sand and not worry about it, but that is not a plan. We cannot do nothing. What we will need to do is something radical and that is scary, especially when it means turning everything on its head. Then again, that is what God does best!

For now, however, when cars are not an option, there is ‘No church on Sunday’!

Storehouses and treasure ...

This Sunday's lectionary includes the parable of the rich fool and was the passage of scripture I felt I needed to preach on. As my sermon unfolded onto the page I had the congregation I will lead in worship in mind, but on reflection this is a sermon that I could preach in probably of the United Reformed Churches I serve. It is probably one I would feel able to preach even in a church I do not know pastorally.

And so, I share today's sermon here. It might not be the finest example of the craft of preaching, but in an age when material wealth is of great importance and there are many issues, in the church and elsewhere, relating to storehouses, there is a challenge here for us all.

Luke 12.13-21 (NRSV)
Someone in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.’ But he said to him, ‘Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?’ And he said to them, ‘Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.’ Then he told them a parable: ‘The land of a rich man produced abundantly. And he thought to himself, “What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?” Then he said, “I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” But God said to him, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich towards God.’

On first glance, we might want to ask what all the fuss is about with respects to this parable of Jesus’. What the man in the story does seems to resonant with what most of us, I would guess, have been taught or been encouraged to do during our lives—be prudent with what we have; plan for the future and/or that rainy day. Admittedly, depending on how things have turned out for each of us in our lives, whether we have been lucky to always have a job with an adequate wage, will have influenced how successful we have been at this. Yet, even if our saves have only ever been great enough for a very small piggy bank or biscuit tin, we will have aimed to put something by ‘just in case’.

This prudent mentality of the man in the story, however, gets labelled as being foolish. Why, when these were not ill-gotten gains like in the parable of the wicked tenants (Matthew 21.33-41) or the dishonest manager (Luke 16.1-9)? The man had done all the right things: he had toiled hard and the harvest had been more than fruitful. And then, as we can find other examples of within the scriptures, for example Joseph managing the years of plenty followed by the years of famine in Egypt (Genesis 41), the man looked to ensure nothing went to waste by building bigger barns. The only thing that goes wrong with the plan was that the man dies before he had a chance to do anything with the wealth he had collected. He didn’t even get the chance to have his party! So why does Jesus use such strong language and have God calling the man a fool?

When we look more closely at the story, there are two things that we should note. Firstly, the man’s barns were already full. Secondly, the only person in the picture the man paints was the man himself. Why build bigger barns when clearly the man had more than he needed already? Why, when we can probably rightly assume that this was a man who would have been an upright citizen and observer of religious law, does he not take note of those Mosaic laws about having concern for ones neighbours, particularly those who may not have the ability to provide for themselves as the man could? Well, because Jesus wanted to draw the listeners attention to the age-old problem we have in humanity: our ability to so easily become self-centred, even when initially our intentions may have not been—we were only just putting something away for a rainy-day!

The reason Jesus embarked on this story with the crowd was in response to a question that related to greed. The law of the land had been followed, inheritances had been distributed accordingly, two-thirds to the oldest son and one-third to the youngest. But the youngest believed they should have had more. Maybe so, if we believe in equal rights, but at that point in the history of the people of Israel that was not the case. And actually why was it that the younger son believed he should have been entitled to more? Could he give an answer that was about something other than his own creature comforts? Given the nature of the parable, probably not, and that is why we have this foolish man, whose actions which may have been once about being prudent had become ones centred on himself and blow the rest of the world!

This is one of Jesus’ parables that does not have a happy ending. We are left on a cliff-edge with the question of who now is going to benefit from all that the man has stored up on earth. There is no one it would seem. The grain will just rot away in those vast barns and finally the barns will fall into rack and ruin. It’s shocking, yet Jesus does use these shock tactics every so often to wake up the crowd and us. We need that prod in the ribs to look at what we are doing and how we are living out our lives as disciples.

In the gospel of Matthew, we have the story of another rich man, one who this time Jesus encounters. Like the rich fool in the parable, he was an upright man keeping the law, yet he wanted to know what else he should do to ensure that he might have eternal life. Jesus’ response was, ‘if your wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ (Matthew 19.21) The way the story is told, this was just one step too far for that rich man. And although we may not be rich in wealth ourselves, even with what we do materially have, it is probably a step too far for most of us. This, however, does not mean we are doomed in our following of Christ.

The rich man’s foolishness in the parable, told by Jesus in the gospel of Luke, is not so much about what he had stored up or that he had even chosen to do that. Rather it is about the wisdom behind how he dealt with his gathering wealth. There was no plan for what that wealth could do other than sit in those barns for a rainy day that may never arrive. Which actually never did arrive for that rich man. It is not wrong to have some sort of reserve, but what is that reserve truly being kept for? Once the bills are paid, should all that is left over go into that ‘rainy day pot’ or does some of it need to be used elsewhere? Should it be handed on to a neighbour who has hit that ‘rainy day’ but has nothing to fall back on?

As both individuals and as a community, this parable is a true challenge. Not only may we have wealth that we need to wisely discern how best manage, but we may have other gifts from God in our lives and around us in the world that God would encourage us to make the most of but we know we need to do so with great wisdom. As our communion liturgy speaks of, God made us stewards of the world. This parable reminds us that we need to undertake that stewardship appropriately. We need to see the bigger picture as well as some of the finer detail. We need to try not to get centred on one thing that could draw us into a self-contained existence that loses sight of even God.

What then are in our storehouses? Why are we hold on to such things and what is that ‘rainy day’ that we fear? Is it time to let go and celebrate what God has given us and then really engage with God in how we go forward, wisely using what we have and who we are because of God’s grace towards us? After all, God’s call to us as disciples of Jesus Christ is to walk Jesus’ way and tell every corner of the world the good news. God did not call us to sit in storehouse or barns waiting for the rainy day!

Amen

Sound the retreat...

In recent weeks, I have been challenged to think about the business of 'going on retreat'. I have always found this an odd concept because the word retreat has a mixture of meanings, and it is the one of running away that always comes to my mind first. Yet, in a holy life, in a life that strives to walk in the footsteps of Jesus, 'retreat' should be a part. Jesus often took himself away from the crowds and his disciples, to pray, spend time with God and prepare for the next step along the path that he was travelling. And a poignant example of this is that moment in the garden of Gethsemane, although anguished, was a time of retreat, preparation, a time with God.

In a busy schedule, with more work to do than is probably feasible in the hours available, 'going on retreat', especially when you're not quiet with the programme, goes by the wayside. Or so I might think. As I was out walk the dog, thinking about this question of should I be making time to 'go on retreat', I realised that actually I was at that moment on a sort of 'retreat'. Out on that path with the dog, away from the books, meeting agendas, telephone and emails, I quietly walk with God mulling over what has been and what is to come.

Now, I pretty sure there are those out there who will tell me that really isn't enough. I really should make time and 'go on retreat'. And I get it, honest, but I just cannot shake that picture of running away. Will spending a few days at a Retreat House, really prepare me what is next, or do I need to be 'on retreat' where maybe the trouble can find me, like in the garden of Gethsemane?

Last year, Luther (that's the dog not the Reformer) and I walked a path through the Suffolk countryside that links two places in the pastorate I partly serve. We did this to raise money for a couple of causes and so walked with purpose, with our sights on the end. Yet, as I shamefully watched the romantic comedy 'About Time' last night, I began to wonder if it was time to walk that path again, but this time with a little less purpose. In the film, the key character has the inherited gift of travelling in time, and his father, also with this gift, guides him through how best to use it. And one thing his father suggests is that he lives each day twice, once as it comes and the other taking the time to look around and take pleasure in different moments within the day. And maybe as I prepare for what is ahead in the pastorate I serve in the coming months, that is what I need to do. Not living each day twice (that would be a little impossible), but walking a path that is significant, taking time and not just aiming for the end.

So maybe there lies the answer for what 'going on retreat' has to be for me... well at this moment in my ministry at least.

Dancing Sheep

I realise I have not posted for some time on my blog... ministry, a PhD and a dog have meant that blogging has become something I did rather than I do. However, I have just had to sit down and right the church magazine pastoral letter for next month and thought I would share it as stand on the eve of Pentecost...

Living in a county where farming and agriculture is still a big part of its economy, the fact there are annual events that promote these crucial industries is good. And going along to some of these things when the sun is shining is even better. However, as I stood watching, and enjoying, the Sheep Show at the Wool Fair at Ickworth House, I got to thinking about how what was happening here is maybe something we’ve lost the ability to do as the church—well that was until the sheep started dancing! 

The Sheep Show, like the other demonstrations at the fair, were there to educate the crowds about sheep, what they provide us with, and how important they are. They also showed how farmers/shepherds manage their flocks and care for them. It was all good stuff, engaging adults and children alike. Those who were speaking were passionate about what they did and clearly wanted to share the joy they had in their work, although at times it was hard. If only we could be like that about our faith, I thought to myself. But then came the gimmick, the crowd-pleaser to end the show—the sheep dancing! Or more accurately, the sheep vaguely moving to music.

 Why? What was the need? Why is the passion for what you do not enough to get across what you are trying to tell the crowds.

 It is all too easy, I suppose, to think that the only way a message might get across is by dressing it up some way, especially if it lightens a heavy topic. But is there not a risk in this? That we spend more time trying to get the sheep to dance than working out what the important facts are that need to be shared and remembered!

 The Church is now in the season of Pentecost. The Holy Spirit is again at the forefront of our thoughts, as is what the Holy Spirit has done and can do in the life of the Church. It should be the time, like that first day the disciples experienced the true power of the Holy Spirit, when the Church is again impassioned to speak, to tell it as it is! But are we? Or are we busy searching for the gimmick that will draw the crowd better than just us talking passionately about what we believe? The Holy Spirit is here to empower us to speak. So maybe it’s time to take the easy option and tell the world what is really on our hearts. And that doesn’t require dancing sheep!

A prophet: Who? Me?

It has been some time since I have posted anything on my blog, I realise, but now that I am nearly a year in to ministry I thought I should offer something of a reflection on that year. There is much I could say, much I could tell, and much I really cannot put down into words. There have been highs, points of great celebration, along with some lows and even moments of dispair. However, as my reflect on the year, I want to share with you a reflection I wrote in recent weeks for a weekly time of worship one of my churches has in the middle of the week. It is a reflection that is based on the opening of the book of Jeremiah - Jeremiah 1.4-10. It reflects some of what commentators say about this passage and the prophet Jeremiah, but also reflects very much on where my journey so far has taken me... 

I did try to make an excuse, to find a reason why not; I even tried to explain that I was far from ready. What I had been asked to do, what I was expected to do, was no small thing and at that point I did not know what sort of burden, what sort of unbearable strain the task would put me under.

The words “a prophet to the nations” seem so simple to say, even have a grandeur about them that maybe the speaker thought that that would make them hard to resist. But what did I have to say that was worth listening to? Even among family and friends my voice had often gone unheard, so how was I ever going to make myself heard among the nations? But of course the answer can never be ‘no’. There was a counter argument to all that I argued that I could not dispute. And even my reason for ‘no’ which was critical to what I had been asked to do had been swept away with a touch of a hand and the words: “I have put my words in your mouth.”

Since then I have watched my life, as was, stripped away. I’ve gone to places and depths I never thought I would ever reach. I have experienced things that would have broken me beyond repair if I had relied on my own resources.

God called me to be “a prophet to the nations”, but that did not just mean me speaking up and speaking out. It meant me listening. Listening to God’s voice, God’s words, with a level of attentiveness far greater than you might expect. It meant me examining God’s words with respect to my own very being before proclaiming their sometimes harshness but reality to others. God’s words were, are, not just for the nations—they were and are for me too.

And it is this truth that gives me the authority to speak and to declare and know that I do not speak in my own strength. I do not go from place to place under my own steam, for all I do, I do through and in the strength of the one who called me; who has known me from before I was born.

Do not fear... REJOICE!

I am sure my Old Testament tutor would have something to say to me about my exposition of Zephaniah and bringing Moses into things (I always got in to bother when I tried to tackle anything Moses related), but here is where I ended up after spending the week reflecting that this Sunday, the third in Advent, was 'Guadete Sunday'.

SERMON: DO NOT FEAR, BUT REJOICE!
based on Zephaniah 3.14-20 and Philippians 4.4-7

“Do not fear… The Lord, your God, is in your midst…” (Zephaniah 3.16b-27a)
so “Rejoice in the Lord always… The Lord is near.” (Philippians 4.4a, 5b)

Fear, trepidation, uncertainty, injustice to be replaced by celebration, jubilation, joy! Advent will soon become Christmas when all darkness is to be dispersed by the glorious dawn of an endless light! Yet, in the shadow of recent events, this seems completely incomprehensible and if not, totally out of the question. How can we have a party when there is the threat of terror knocking at our door? How can we be merry and joyful when so many will once again be starting over when the flood waters finally recede? This is not a time to sing aloud songs of exultation; rather it is a time to weep, mourn and cry out all that is wrong. On a day such as today, with all that is wrong in the world blazoned across the headlines, how can the Prophet tell us not to fear? How can the Apostle tell us to ‘rejoice’? Is it because they do not understand? Is it because they are not of our time? No, they do understand for they knew the darkness of this world as well as we do. The reality of the world in the time of Zephaniah was idolatry, corruption and injustice. Paul wrote to the church of Philippi from a prison cell, and it was not just Paul who was in trouble, the church was too. There was conflict between its leaders and the community was also under persecution from the outside. The same darkness that surrounds us surrounded them; the same struggles we face, they faced; yet the words of the Prophet and the Apostle to their time, and to us now, were:

“Do not fear… The Lord, your God, is in your midst…”
“Rejoice in the Lord always… The Lord is near.”

Traditionally this Sunday in Advent has been known as ‘Guadete Sunday’ or ‘Rejoice Sunday’ if we translate the Latin. It was the Sunday when the disciplines of Advent preparations were relaxed so that a foretaste of Christmas joy could be proclaimed. Not a bad idea, especially as the third Sunday in Advent is when it dawns on many of us how unprepared we are for Christmas and how few days are left to get ourselves sorted. An injection of joy is just what is needed as an apathy for the season sets in and all that is on our minds are thoughts of disaster and chaos. Yet although this Christmas joy is sure to lift our spirits and potentially relieve the pressure of our preparations for at least a little while, I wonder if there is more to this than what we might normally term the ‘festive spirit’. So what exactly is this Christmas joy that is to be proclaimed? And why today when our festive spirit is truly wavering and there is a real deep sense of darkness in the world should we be even more enthusiastic to proclaim it?

Zephaniah’s song is a welcomed break from the gloom and despondency that fills much of the rest of the book of the prophet. Zephaniah has been, it appears, driven to near-despair over the sorry condition of Judah’s life since the reign of King Manasseh. Yet, with King Josiah now on the throne, there was some hope of change, for Josiah sought to reform the kingdom and re-establish the statutes and ordinances of the Sinai covenant. Yet at Sinai, it was not just statutes and ordinances Moses received for the Israelites to live by, it was also the place where God’s covenant with the people was once again restated. It was also the place where God came to be amongst the people in the tent of the Tabernacle. To go back to that time, to live again with that real sense and knowledge of God’s presence and all that would mean as it did for the Israelites in the wilderness could not be kept to oneself—Zephaniah had to tell Judah all about the potential for God’s return, and because of how this knowledge had lifted his spirits the only way for Zephaniah to proclaim it was to sing a song of joy. All judgement was to go and all suffering to end, for once again God’s promises could be fulfilled. Zephaniah, through the throne of King Josiah, could see the potential for reign of darkness coming to an end. There was no further need for the people to fear, for the Lord, their God, could again come into their midst! It was time to rejoice and be glad and sing aloud exultations from the heart.

This image of God being amongst the people isn’t, however, just Zephaniah’s vision—Paul had the same vision. He tells the Philippians that ‘the Lord is near’ (Philippians 4.5b). However, the Philippians understanding of this will have likely been very different from the understanding of the Israelites, for they were living, just as we are, after the time of Christ and talk of the Lord coming near most likely meant Christ’s return. And it is Christ’s return that we predominantly speak off during the season of Advent. This is the time when we long and wait for Christ to come again, not just in the story of that first Christmas, but physically and spiritually. And to truly know that that time was near had to inspire the Philippians, as it should us. To know of Christ’s return fills one with great anticipation, but to know that it is immanent has to bring uncontainable excitement, potentially even joy. This joy, however, that we hear in Paul’s message feels subtly different from the joy in Zephaniah’s message, when we consider the knowledge of the original hearers. And this is emphasised by how one commentator describes the joy that Paul talks of in his letter to the Philippians. It is described as something that has a deep sense of longing but is also patient—a waiting filled with wanting—but also allows the one in possession of it to pray for their anxieties and receive the peace which is deeply rooted in God. This feels like a much muted version of joy, compared to what we might expected to it mean having experienced joy for ourselves and through the words of the prophet Zephaniah. It works as a definition with respects to our understanding of Advent, but is this really the Christmas joy that this Sunday calls us to proclaim, especially when we see joy through the lens of the words of the prophet Zephaniah?

For us to consider light and darkness during this season is not uncommon. At some point during our Advent and Christmas celebrations within the church we will read those fantastic words from the opening of the gospel of John which talk of the light coming into the world and the darkness not being able to overcome it (John 1.5). We will hear the words of the prophet Isaiah telling us of the people who walked in darkness seeing a great light (Isaiah 9.2). But where is God—in the light or in the darkness? In the light, of course, I hear you say; it is Jesus who is the light of the world, after all. And you are not wrong, but what if I was to say that God is also in the darkness?

Zephaniah, although a prophet did not sing about God coming amongst the people, nor did he look back and sing of God being amidst the people; he sang “the Lord, your God, is in your midst” (Zephaniah 3.17a). God’s presence was there in the darkness that Zephaniah was experiencing, just as God is present in the darkness that we are experiencing. We shouldn’t be rejoicing because the Lord will soon be with us, we should be rejoicing because God is here, because there is another way to read the word ‘near’. I think Paul meant that God is in our intimate surroundings, not coming in the near future. And why do we need to see God in the here and now? Well, if the world is to change, then it can only change if God is present because it is God’s presence that heals, enlivens and challenges humanity and turns that darkness into light. And this is the Christmas joy that has to be proclaimed and why we should rejoice this Sunday. God has not just been in the world, nor is God just due to come into the world again; God is in the world, now!

So hear the words of the Prophet and the Apostle:
“Do not fear… The Lord, your God, is in your midst…”
“Rejoice in the Lord always… The Lord is near.”

©Elaine S Colechin, 2015