The backgorund is…Google host talks regualrly in their various headquarters. Talks are by authors, Presidential canditates, etc. For some reason, they invited Tim Keller.
I want to preach Christ. And I want to do it from everwhere. Jesus says he’s everywhere in the Bible, so when I preach, I want to find him, and make him clear to people.
Sometimes, this is easy. Turn to Mark, and it’s fairly easy to see Jesus. Turn to Esther, and it’s not so easy (whoaoh there cowboys! Don’t rush ahead to the comment bit yet…).
Or in Job. This Easter I thought I’d be a smarty pants. Job 19 - ”I know that my Redeemer lives”. Piece of cake, thought I. Jesus = The Redeemer, He lives. Easy.
Until I started working on it. Who was this Job? Job in the opening chapter, we’re told, is a good God fearer - makes sacrifices for his family and has lots of cows. Sounds like Abraham, probably one of his contemporaries. Which means he’s proper early in the Bible story. Pre-exodus, and importantly, pre-law of Moses. That’s important because it’s from the Law that we get all our understanding of the Redeemer that Jesus ultimately fulfills. So the question I started asking (and am still asking) is ‘what did Job mean when he said ‘Redeemer’?’ And as much as I tried, I couldn’t answer with ‘the same as us’. 
See, I know that Jesus is our kinsman redeemer because a redeemer had to be like the one that he was taking the place of, or avenging. As Jesus came in the likeness of sinful flesh to redeem us from the curse of the law, he was like us, and did for us what we couldn’t do. I see how Jesus fulfills the Redeemer thing. But if Israel was not going to have any idea about what a Redeemer was meant to do for another few hundred years what did Job mean… and don’t even get me started on Job not even being an Israelite…
Two things over-ride my thinking. First is this ‘progressive revelation’ thing (a posh way of of saying that as the Bible story developed, people learnt more about Jesus). I think it’s real. To me, it makes perfect sense that Adam knew less than us, Abraham knew less than us, Moses knew less than us… Isaiah knew more, but still less than us. Now, as Jesus goes ‘no one gets to the Father except through me’ it’s clear that they were all saved by Jesus. But whether they knew that as we do? I seriously doubt.
Which brings me back to Job. It’s clear that he trusted God. It’s clear that he was vindicated by God. and that he spoke to God. And all of this, looking back, I am convinced is Jesus. Lookinh via the cross, I know that Job 19 is about Jesus. I just don’t have a clue whether he knew this at the time.
The other factor is that I want to be true to the text. I don’t want to go all Spurgeon on anyone. I know “he was greatly used by God” and that I should pray for a bit of what he was given… but he’s no model for explaining the text is he? (Except for the Treasury of David for some reason…).
But maybe I’ve gone too far over to the dry side. All word and no spirit, that’s what they call it. The more I tried to find Jesus legitimately in Job, whilst fighting my temptation to see him as I see him, before seeing him as Job saw him… the less I could see anything. Are you confused? Good. So was I.
In the end, I cut my loses. And went after Romans 1 instead.
I’ve found that boys and girls have very different tastes, every orange wednesday this becomes clearer to me. It was my choice to watch Blades of Glory, it was Jenny’s to watch Freedom Writers. Next week, we’ll go and see the U2 film (that’s my choice), this week it was Jenny’s with Juno (and secretly, I was very pleased, because it would have been mine too).
It’s a film about a teenage pregnancy. Here’s the trailer.
As far as the film goes, you sort of see it coming. Girl gets pregnant / girl tells boy / girl (thankfully) bottles out of an abortion / girl decides to give the baby up / girl wrecks a marriage / girl has baby / girl gives away baby / girl sings a song with baby’s dad. And even though what I’ve just typed looks more like a particularly dark episode of Byker Grove, it is really funny. All of it. Her telling him having warmed him up by complimenting his mum’s detergent? Funny. Her telling her best friend that she’s ‘for shiz prego’? funny. Her parents admitting that they’d rather she be on hard drugs? (Dark, but) funny. It made me laugh. So as far as a comedy goes, it’s job well done Juno.
Go and see it. It’s funny. But, maybe there’s a lesson or two to learn from it. They could have disowned her, but Juno’s parents’ reaction to her being pregnant calms and they stand by her - that’s a lesson. And as the 9 months tick by, you see Juno becoming more and more leperised by her classmates, and the reaction of those that walk with her is inspiringly counter-cultural. As I watched it, I thought of how I might react if a sixteen year old I knew got ‘caught out’. Which one of her classmates would I be most like? “For shame Juno, how could you..?”
And the thing is, it would be so easy to now make this blog about guilt. ‘Teenage pregnancy happens in churches, so be more like Juno’s good friends, and less like the bullies that give her a hard time.’ And that would look like a good thing. Externally, that’d be the right thing to do. But internally, that’s another matter. It may look like the right thing to do, but it’s not the gospel. It’s just moralising.
You see, it’s not just doing that right thing that’s important. It’s doing it for the right reason, with the right motivation. And our reason is always the cross. It’s only when we see ourselves in Juno that we’ll be changed ‘internally’. Before God, we’re all Junos - we’ve all been caught out and should be every bit ashamed. But the gospel is that Jesus, who in dying on the cross became the ultimate Juno - bearing the ultimate shame - our shame. Mark 15 shows Jesus being mocked by everyone, even sworn enemies united to shame him. And as they did, he was taking our place, and feeling our shame. When we get this, we’ll see that we have nothing to hide behind when a Juno walks in our church. We won’t want to help simply because ‘it’s the right thing to do’ but because ‘we can because Jesus dealt with our shame and loved us when he should have chucked us in the skip, and we have no right to see her as any different to us’.
It has got faults, of course it does. The biggest one being that it downplays the reality of the situation it describes. It glamorises a child having a child. And at the end of the film, I was left thinking ‘that was one hairy year in the life of Juno McGuff, thank goodness it’s all over now, and she can get back to playing the guitar with her boyfriend’; that’s not a good thing. But I stilll don’t think that that’s no reason to not go and see it. Don’t get all reformed and precious about making light of sin. Take your friends, and use it. This film will be seen by millions, lets make the most of it.
Ok, so technically, I wasn’t by myself for the whole time (I was staying with a friend), and as I did go to college there, the adventurous aspect of a trip away was somewhat nullified… but I did sit on a train, and go to a restaraunt, and go to the cinema, and go to the theatre and walk around alot all by myself. Proper grown up see.
And the rest was so good. Tomtom bangs on about it, and he’s right! ‘Rests are so good for the soul’ (I think that’s why he’s having such a long one soon). I was able to read a bit, sleep a bit, pray a little… all these old friends seemed more than willing to have a good old catch up. In fact, like every good preacher, God stated, and illustrated a very clear message that he wanted me to realise [Spoiler alert - if you happen to from our church, there's a strong to excellent chance you'll hear what is about to follow as an illustration some time in the near future].
I’ve been reading 2 Kings in the morning recently, and I’ve been using Dale Ralph Davies’ commentary to help. Very good too…
Incidentally, two thoughts:
i) Doesn’t Dale Ralph Davies use a lot of Civil War illustrations?
ii) Doesn’t Dale Ralph Davies look a bit like the Green Goblin himself, Willem Dafoe? Just fuzz up the picture a bit; take off the glasses, pop a Jonny Raine wig on his head, bend him over a pulpit and make him pray… Et viola! Spiderman’s nemisis is now a Hebrew scholar.
Anyway; yesterday morning, I got to that strange story about the floating axehead in chapter 6. A bunch of sons of prophets (sounds like some sort of dis, doesn’t it?), take Elisha along with them to build a bigger barn for them all to live in. They start chopping wood near a river, and before you even get a chance to make a pun about a bunch of prophets ‘caught upstream without a paddle’ they’re literally caught upstream without a paddle‘ when one of them swings his axe straight into the deep end.
Of course, once again, it’s God to the rescue, through Elisha. The big man sticks a… er, stick into the water, and miraculously, the axehead starts floating. Panic over!
Now I know that the whole thing may not seem like too big a deal to us; but then again, most of don’t rely on axes to cut wood for shelter, or to cut wood for a fire to cook food… for us, a lost axe means a quick visit to B&Q; but for them, a lost axe, would probably have meant a close brush with death. Here’s the story;
The company of the prophets said to Elisha, “Look, the place where we meet with you is too small for us. Let us go to the Jordan, where each of us can get a pole; and let us build a place there for us to live.” And he said, “Go.” Then one of them said, “Won’t you please come with your servants?” “I will,” Elisha replied. And he went with them.
They went to the Jordan and began to cut down trees. As one of them was cutting down a tree, the iron axhead fell into the water. “Oh, my lord,” he cried out, “it was borrowed!” The man of God asked, “Where did it fall?” When he showed him the place, Elisha cut a stick and threw it there, and made the iron float. “Lift it out,” he said. Then the man reached out his hand and took it.
One of Davies’ comments is so simple - look how the whole story hinges around Elisha simply ‘agreeing’ to go with them to play lumberjacks. Had he said no, the axe would still be at the bottom of the river. But simply because of the small detail, Elisha saying “I will”, they survived.
So that’s the stating. Now for the illustrating…
Later that day, I’d just met with a college friend, and walked with them to get their bike. Once they left, I checked my watch, and knew that if I was to get back to the other side of the city in time to get to the Hacienda exhibition I would have to walk quickly. I got half way back up Oxford Rd before realising that I hadn’t given another friend the book I’d bought for him, and turned back around. It added a lot of time. I wasn’t going to make it.
I got to Ellis’ coffee shop; we chatted briefly, and he gave me a coffee to go, and, more significantly, £2 to get the97 from the stop across the road, it was the only way I’d now make it in time. There’s about 3 buses a minute on Oxford Rd. I wasn’t waiting long. One arrived, and I got on. Within a couple of minutes, I was talking to the girl next me about Jesus. She wasn’t a Christian, but her parents are. This sort of thing has never happened before, but within another few minutes, we’d both got off the bus at the same stop, and after talking some more, I was praying with her outside Marks&Spencer’s.
It almost never happened that way. But I see the point. Had I not remembered to take Ellis that book, I would never have got on the bus. Had I not spent a few minutes talking with him in the shop, I would have missed that bus. Had Elisha said ‘no’, then a bunch of Prophets would have gone hungry and cold. But God was there in the small detail.
It’s been a busy time recently; Christmas is coming, and though I work through the rest of the year too, there is an inevitable yuletide increase to my work. Exciting times, lots to do (and redo, as Jon’s latest entry may suggest). Thought I’d nab a quick blog to share something I’ve been chewing over recently.
Christmas is twice exciting really - Carols and a holiday! Woo hoo! 10 days in all, and back to the wild west to spend some much needed time with the family and my dad’s new toy - a Sky+ box. Good news of great joy!
Ok, so it’s not the Good News, but it does make me happy. Why? Because it means that I feel safe to go home and watch TV. For years, I, like the rest of you, have struggled time after time with seeing something on the TV which I’ve regretted. There’s plenty of stuff in my mind that I’m ashamed to have watched, and struggle ongoingly with their unannounced reappearances in my brain’s inbuilt surround sound home cinema.
And just like the rest of you, I doubt very much that with the majority of these things I’ve seen, that I’ve ever really intended to watch something I shouldn’t. It might start with MOTD2, then a quick channel hop before bed, then a ‘oops! shouldn’t have seen that…’, then back to the safety of Adrian Chiles*, then a cheeky ‘I’ll just check to see if that’s finished yet…’.
We’ve all been there (right?). And personally, I’ve had enough. Now, I know that that Christians aren’t meant to admit to enjoying television; and are really meant to say ’Oh the digibox? That’s just for watching news24, really… I bearly watch any TV…’; but I do. I like TV. I’m not going to say that I like it because ‘it gives me ‘a way in’ with non-christians’ and that it’s an evangelistic tool (though in reality, I’m not certain if the majority of people would have anything to talk about if it were not for the X-Factor). The truth is, I just enjoy it, find it relaxing, and I hope that there’s a safe way to watch without the fear and regret.
And that’s where the Sky+ box comes in. A couple of months ago, I was home at dad’s and programmed the little beast to record all the TV that I want to watch over the coming 10 days. When I get back, I’ll have a flick through the Radio times and do it again with the Christmas TV. Right here, right now, I promise that should I find myself alone, I’ll only watch programmes that I’ve recorded before hand.
I want to be holy, I want even the stuff that I watch as entertainment to be done with my Saviour in mind as I reach for the remote. If any of you see me over the holiday, you have my permission to ask how the experiment’s going.
*he just doesn’t do it for me. Even when he’s naked and standing in the middle of Bristol.
Last Saturday night, I met with some of the Prognosis boys and one extra (who made us good food) at his house in Maesteg, whilst the FWAGS (there’s one fiance) met in Tom’s new house in Porthcawl. We had a good time, we chatted, ate well, discussed the merits of one of Tom’s ideas for worship by performance art (it involved a large room, one chair and a half drunk cup of coke [and I am well too reformed for that]), and the evening was only marred by a rather distressing game of rugby.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the M4, the FWAGS met to pray for each other and discuss the different types of encouragements and difficulties that come from being romantically involved with ‘the emerging generation of thinkers in Wales’ (if someone misses this irony, then I fear they’re missing out on a lot of the Bible…).
And they had a good time, a great time - a profitable time. Jen’s looking forward to the next, and it was so encouraging to drive back to Cardiff with her so lit up by the gospel.
And the thing is, it really didn’t take that much. Just a few people trusting each other, being honest, and offering to carry each others’ burdens.
Strangely, this is something that seemed so vital to me when I was a student, the accountability thing, but since then, it’s often felt like an optional extra. When was the last time I answered the usual Sunday question with ”…actually, pretty rubbish. I’ve lost my assurance, and I’m working myself into the ground trying to justify myself… thanks for asking.”
Before anyone rushes round, it’s not like that, praise God. But if it were, would I trust my brothers enough to be honest with them. We all need a Jonathan, but don’t you think that girls seem so much better at finding them?
In the words of Jon (Donne, or Bon Jovi, I can’t remember which…) ‘no man is an island’, so pray for humility with me guys - it’s pride that makes us lone rangers. We’re not meant to walk alone, and none of us are alone in our struggles either.
Recently, Clewless, Jonny and myself have found ourselves in a module in college on Christology - quite simply it has flipped my lid. Last Wednesday afternoon’s lecture was particularly enjoyable - partly because it was amusing to see Jonny resist the temptation to take sly looks at my open ESV when his greek version was becoming a little tricky (that is easily the saddest thing I’ve ever written…); and partly because it really helped me understand how to deal with that nasty ‘In the beginning was the/a Word’ when Jehovah’s Witnesses turn up on my door.
I’m sure we all been in that situation: Sunday afternoon - Ding Dong - “Hi, do you like to read? Can I offer you a copy of this magazine?”…
An hour and a half later you’re still stood on your doorstep, having only briefly left to scream into a pillow. Once they’re gone the pride of having ridiculed their lack of greek doesn’t last long before you wonder exactly how much good you’ve just done ‘in the name of Jesus’.
If this is at all familiar to you, let me share with you the story that Jen’s dad told me about an older guy in their church, and the way that he deals with Jehovah’s Witnesses. It may seem obvious, but I really hope that the next time Bre’r Rabbit and Elder Flower come a’knockin’ I care less about pronouns and more about their souls.
After opening the door, he’ll invite them in, offer them a cup of tea, take their magazine and promise to read it prayerfully. When he tells them that he’s a Christian, Jen’s dad said that he often finds that they instinctively reach for their Bibles, as if preparing for a fight, but he’ll interupt.
“Please don’t, I’m sure you can confuse me with verses all day. I’m certain that you know your Bibles a lot better than I do mine…”
and here it comes;
“…I simply want to ask you; what assurance do you have that God loves you?” 
Once again, I’m floored by the simplicity of the gospel. We don’t have a thing to boast in if it’s not Jesus. I’m humbled by the old guys grace - more love in one sentence than I’ve ever shown with my lexicon. Guys, if you think I’m impressed with another cool way of flooring a J-Dub, I’m not. I want to realise, that our battle is not with them, it’s with an enemy that Christ has destroyed in our place.
I’m told that Prince is a Jehovah’s Witness. He wouldn’t be a bad role model really would he? a lover, not a fighter…
A little while ago, when we were all going on a bit of Steve Chalke bender, I suggested that his primary issue in the way he understands penal substitution was to do with his understanding of who Jesus is. Today I thought about that again, as I was reading a proper tidy book called ‘The Work of Christ’ by Bob Letham.
The opening chapter of the book is taken up with the necessity of Christ’s being both God and man; “A less than human Christ could no more be the saviour of human beings than a less than divine Christ could no more be the true revelation of God” (pg. 25). Letham makes his point historically by whizzing (do I need a ‘h’ there?) us through 2000 years of how Christ’s nature was understood, from the the early days of people thinking he was a little bit less man, right through to the post Enlightenment’s thinking that he was a lot less God.
It was toward the end of this section that he writes something that’s been a real help to me understanding the whole Catholic/Mary thing. I’ve never really gotten it see… Where exactly does the Bible even give a hint that Mary is the mediator we need to get to God?
It doesn’t - but here’s Letham’s take on how it came about. And once again, it’s a Christological issue;
“…where the incarnation, although held to be true, is nonetheless not given adequate theological weight, the link between Christ and humanity is eroded… Christ was viewed in his supreme deity and comman nature was neglected. Consequently, the need arose for some additional form of human mediation between us and the exalted Christ…”
Enter, stage right, Mary.
Well known words, these…
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more…
To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong…
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
Can you see what his point is? To be honest, neither could I at first (I studied it for A levels, but that was a long time ago, and since then my literary input has been more on the Lucado level), but I’ll give you a summary.
Life, for Hamlet is shot. Dad’s dead, probably killed by Uncle Claudius, who not only is now King of Denmark, but has also managed to bag himself a ready made queen, Ham’s mum.
Watching his mum snog his uncle is enough to make the poor boy go mad, which he promptly does (or does he? [I think that's what my teacher was driving at, at least]).
Either way, Hamlet wants to be dead. He cannot see any reason to stay alive any longer. Life could not get any worse. But there’s just one thing stopping him; he is terrified of death. Absolutely, horrifically, terrified of it. Even though life is crud, the fact that death is so unknown (the undiscover’d country bit) leaves him unable to choose. For Hamlet, life or death is a lose/lose choice. ‘If I live, life is rubbish; but if I die… who knows what comes next?’ So he can’t choose - the choice was just too hard.
When Paul wrote to the Philippians, he was balancing a similar choice, but he seems to be able to do it in a little bit more of a ‘glass half empty way’ - Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account.
So why are both of them asking the same question in such different ways? Is it just that Paul is one of those terrible ‘eternal optimists’ and that Hamlet is just a sixth former who listens to too much Radiohead, or is there more too it?
The reason why death for Paul is not going to be hit and hope is because he’s got a certainty of something better – something even better than living for Christ in this world – it’s living with Christ, fully, perfectly, undistractedly, in the next. Paul’s talking about his ‘deliverance’, his going to be with Jesus, as soon as his life is up. It’s not just his wish, it’s his ‘eager expectation and hope’.
He’s so certain of it, that he can almost taste it. So whatever happens to him, it won’t change the glory ahead. He’s so in love with what Christ has promised him in the future, even the ‘now’, prison and all, is in terms of the glory of Christ that’s ahead. For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain… because he knows he’ll gain Christ.
It’s total win/win. I live – I get Christ. I die – I get Christ.
For Hamlet? Life sucks, death sucks.
For Paul? Life Christ, death Christ.
Jesus is the difference.
What’s the difference between a devout muslim or one of Dawkins’ meatheads being the president of a university Christian Union, and a university’s ‘Welsh Society being open to Scottish members; the wine society open to teetotal members, the choral society open to non-singing members, and the cheerleading society being open to male members…’?
None apparently.
Or at least that’s the decision of Martin Shaw, the QC leading the informal adjudication process involving Exeter Christian Union and Exeter University’s Student guild. He goes on to say that ‘the Guild were ‘laudable’ in their aims, the University had no responsibility for the discrimination against Christians, and that the CU was wrong to require that those leading the CU should be Christians. That position, he said, could be held by anyone of any faith or none, provided they agree to the objectives of the CU.’
Three weeks ago I sat in the middle of five hundred men at the EMA conference at St. Helen’s. Though the conference’s title was ‘Defining the times: what is an evangelical?’ there was a subtext to nearly every message during the week - ‘prepare your young men - persecution will come’. As one of only a couple of dozen men under 25 there I shuffled my bum. When we heard that ‘young men are scared to suffer they’ve never seen you have to do it’, mine, along with the other young men’s bum, almost did something else.
Whoever it was that said it (either Tim Keller or Dick Lucas - I’ve searched my notes, and can’t find the quote…) hit the nail on the head. What does it look like? When will it come? I am scared to suffer - I don’t don’t have a clue what it’s going to be like.
The news coming out of Exeter gives me an idea.
Exeter, we stand with you, and pray for you. You walk a path we’ll inevitably follow you down. Stand strong - you will bask in all that Christ has won for you soon.
