Bethlehem’s Glastonbury Night
All my life I worked around Bethlehem.
It’s always been sheep country. Remember David –
Just shows you how far you can go as a shepherd on the make.
Wee nuisance, singer songwriter, premier league slingshot,
Goliath killer; King of Israel; royal line of the Messiah.
From Bethlehem – just a wee village really,
but we called it the city of David – and we hoped –
we hoped for a Messiah who would give us back
all that we had lost, – land, freedom, dignity.
You know – the kind of hope that’s like a lump in your throat,
a hunger in the gut for justice, a thirst in the throat for peace,
an ache for new possibilities, a longing that never goes away,
an endless imagining that things can be different.
And every single hour of every day
digging out of your heart the energy to keep on believing.
Rome was our Goliath, the empire of the bully,
too powerful, cruel and organised for us to make them go away.
We needed a new David, Messiah from the line of David.
How we dreamed of those five smooth stones,
how we hoped for that one precision strike to topple Goliath of Rome.
God send to us the Son of David, we prayed –—
to a seemingly silent heaven.
Not going to happen. We talked about it round the night fires,
listening to sheep, smelling sheep, protecting sheep,
feeling as defenceless and stupid as sheep, fleeced by Rome.
O we had the Psalms, “WE are his people, the sheep of his pasture.”
But for the past 70 years we had been Rome’s people,
Rome’s flock, the people of Rome’s pastures,
fleeced, fenced in, and as a sheep before here shearers is dumb,
we opened not our mouths!
Anyway, all those years ago, like David,
I was a shepherd lad, on the hills doing nightshift.
You’ll hear folk say being a shepherd is a rubbish job,
working with animals, smelling of sheep, the great unwashed,
long hours on the hills, minimum wage, no time off.
Right enough. It was hard going, especially on the nightshift.
We laughed at folk who couldn’t sleep, and counted sheep,
We counted sheep — and couldn’t sleep!
That night – I'll never forget it – it was freezing,
the stars shone in dark a sky,
pinhole patterns of perforated heaven, backlit by the shekinah,
yhe glory of the presence of God;
that brilliant laser holiness human eyes can never see and live.
That kind of night.
Round the fire we handed round the wine and the Matzos.
We were talking about the Romans, grumbling and moaning.
Complaint is the language of those who can’t find the energy,
or the courage, or the hope, to change things.
The census: Rome commands and the world jumps in obedience;
Taxes; Rome demands and the world pays up.
Rome shouted we jumped, as high as they asked.
Rome chose the music, we danced to their tune.
There were six of us, having a complaint competition,
a fellowship held together by mutual moaning about the state of the world.
Then there was seven – where did he come from?
This strange, glowing presence, was he even human?
Then it was as if the sky unzipped and light spilled out!
The shekinah, the glory of God, pouring down
in great dancing flames of beautiful, terrifying, living light;
the choreography of heaven for an audience of shepherds.
Then the angel spoke, with a voice commanding
far more authority than Caesar Augustus at full volume:
“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
Do not be afraid? Fear not, Aye right.
Like, this happens every other night!
He just tells us the Messiah is arriving but it’s OK. Don’t panic!
Before we could panic, all the flames seemed to form faces,
cherubim and seraphim, the holy love of heaven with wings!
They started playing and singing the music of creation,
a flash mob of angels, the orchestration of eternity,
the music of the spheres, the theatre of God’s glory,
a full choral orchestra telling the world, Don’t be afraid!
And LED lights, LED – Love Extending Downwards,
the voice of God in synchronised music and movement,
audible light and visible sound!
Then darkness again, the deep darkness of lost night vision.
It wasn’t only our eyes that needed to adjust;
our whole world had just been turned upside down, and inside out –
Despair disappeared, and new hope in our hearts
echoed the energising music of heaven on the loose.
The dark silence of the fields did nothing to calm us down.
Going to Bethlehem to see for ourselves was a no brainer.
We ran; we fell and stumbled, but we got up and kept going,
propelled by wonder, breathless with the fear it might not be true.
Got to Bethlehem which was heaving with folk
trying to find accommodation pre air B&B –
No room at the inn? No room anywhere, in or out!
And then we found them, down the side street,
in a cul de sac, the lights still on in the downstairs byre.
A young woman, a baby wrapped in the ordinary weave of human life.
If it hadn’t been for the angel we would have said,
“Move on. Nothing to see here.”
But there he was, crying his protests at the cruel world,
then being fed, and cuddled, and put down in the feeding trough.
Not the most promising start in life.
But we knew better. This baby was the promised Saviour.
He it was who would give others a more promising start in life.
Life more abundant, living water and living bread.
We told anyone who would listen,
about the angel and God’s peace message,
accompanied by music with full world theatre illuminations,
the lights of heaven, the hope of our people.
We stopped people and told them – Messiah is here!
Hope is born! God has spoken peace for all people.
All God’s promises are Yes in this baby!
Aye we were only shepherds, but we had stood under an open heaven.
Only shepherds, but we had gate crashed an open air angel concert.
Only shepherds, but first to be told the Messiah was born.
Only shepherds, but we had found our way to Bethlehem,
The town of David, the place of promise.
Only shepherds, but first to set eyes on the Good Shepherd,
Who came amongst us as the love of God incarnate;
Only shepherds, but that light of heaven had first burst over us
the joyous dancing of stars, angels and miraculous music.
What was it all about?
It was infinity distilled to humanity,
God’s love with a human face.
Impelled we were, to see the light of the world,
God’s gift beyond words, irradiated in a baby’s birth.
In him was life and the life was the light of all people…
and shepherds like us were the first to behold his glory,
cradled in a mother’s arms, full of grace and truth.
(c) Jim Gordon. I wrote this for our last service before Christmas, and due to Covid restrictions, our last in church service for the foreseeable future.
This is the text of this week's Pastoral Letter I sent out to our folk in Montrose Baptist Church.
Dear Friends,
I went into one of the wee shops where I buy stranded cotton threads for my tapestries. One customer at a time, hand sanitiser at the door, face coverings at all times, and the 1 metre rule between customer and the proprietor. In our quick catch-up chat We decided it didn’t feel much like Christmas. In fact, she was just wanting Christmas to be past. Now, what did I need? I needed yellow threads; not just yellow, but sunny, bright, in your face yellow. She asked me what I wanted it for, what was I doing this time? “Bright wings,” I said. (Photo of work so far)
She looked at me over her mask, and said, “Right. Bright wings. Is that from the poem?” Just now and again these days, even with face coverings, smiles are obvious. The clue is in the eyes, the wrinkles and that instinctive recognition of someone else sharing the gladness of the joke.
“Yes”, I said. “You know it?”
“I learned it at school,” she said. The last three lines go like this:
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
The Christmas story has its own narrative of “bright wings”, thousands of them. The multitude of the heavenly host praising God and singing, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and goodwill to all people.” As I came away from the shop, with several shades of bright yellow thread, I began thinking about the connection between one of my favourite poems, some yellow thread, the heavenly backing group for Christ’s nativity, and this difficult, dismal, depressingly diminished year we have come through.
First, the poem. It is called ‘God’s Grandeur’, and was written by Gerard Manley Hopkins in 1877. It is about the glory and grandeur of the world God has made, and the mess human industry makes by stripping the land, polluting the rivers and the air, and human lives reduced to work and the making of things and money. And at the end of the poem those three lines, affirming a deep Christian faith in the creative power of God to restore, renew and redeem a broken creation.
Second, the yellow thread will be used in my tapestry to outline the wings that brood over the world and will enfold the words “tikkun olam”, a Hebrew phrase that means “to mend the world”. This has been a slow tapestry, because like everyone else, I’ve found these months have not been easy to navigate. Motivation is hard; imagination starved; and sometimes it’s all but impossible to sit at peace for any length of time.
Then there’s the loneliness of not being able to be with all kinds of other people; and the low grade anxiety that a pandemic inevitably produces, and for months the loss of close contact and risk free interaction with all those who share our lives, from neighbours to shoppers, from friends and even family to strangers whose face we now only half see. But remember: Advent is the time when we celebrate the coming of Jesus “to mend the world”. And that coming was announced and lit up across Bethlehem by the bright wings of the messengers from God. God is still the light that radiates the bright wings of hope that still brood over our world with love untiring.
And third, those angels, and their bright wings. The shepherds were terrified. So would you be, if some time around midnight, on darkened hillsides, ten thousand winged singers burst into view singing against the background of heaven’s brightest technicolour lights. Nine months earlier Mary had said yes to another bright winged messenger from God. Now all those promises were coming true in Bethlehem of all places, and on that night of all nights. So take heart. At the end of a year of anxiety, loss and deep uncertainty, Emmanuel – God is with us, still.
This Advent, despite all that has made this year so very hard to get through, remember, this is God’s world, and ours is a God-loved world. “The Holy Ghost over the bent world broods, with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.” And as we think of Advent and this year of the pandemic, use the old prayer that we used to sing: O spread thy covering wings around, till all our wanderings cease, and at our Father’s loved abode, our souls arrive in peace.”
May you know the peace of Christ, and find shelter under the shadow of his wings,
Your friend and pastor,
Jim Gordon4
Thought for the Day – December 7-14 Second Week of Advent
These 'Thoughts' were written for our Church Community for this week. They are offered here for those who may find them helpful on their own day's journey.
Monday
John 1.1-2 “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.”
Long before Bethlehem, God was at work in the creation of all that exists, by the power of His Word. When God speaks, things happen. The one who comes as the Christ child is the One for whom all things were made. The mystery of Christmas stretches from Bethlehem all the way back to the eternal purposes of God.
Tuesday
John 1.3 “Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that was made.”
The child in the manger, is infant of Mary, and Lord of all. It takes time to let that sink in. The Creator becomes the creature, and the One who called all things into being, is born of human mother, in a remote over-crowded village amongst terrified shepherds, and with angels as a backing group. The One through whom all things exist, comes amongst us, his own existence hanging by the thread of human birth.
Wednesday
John 1.4 “In him was life, and that life was the light of all people.”
One of the fundamental conditions for life is light. Our planet depends on the sun. In the same way our human lives need light from the sun, but also light from the Son. Into the darkness of the world’s sin came the one who first commanded light to shine out of darkness. “Light of the world you stepped down into darkness…so here we are to worship…”
Thursday
John 1.5 “The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.”
“God is Light, and in him is no darkness at all” (I John 1. 6) No wonder darkness can’t understand light, just as sin cannot understand holiness, and hate has no conception of what love is. But read again what John says about the coming of Jesus: the light shines on, and on, and on, and no amount of darkness can extinguish it. The darker the darkness, the more visible the light.
Friday
John 1.11-12 “He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.”
It wasn’t only the overcrowded village, the full up hospitality, and Mary and Joseph at the end of the queue. Jesus came as the Saviour from sin into a sinful world. Of course he was unwanted and unwelcome by the powerful, those whose way of life he called into question. But to those who welcomed light into darkness, and love into the brokenness of the world, there came a new faith in the One who came as the Light of the world. And with that faith, the new place in the family of God.
Saturday
John 1.14. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”
Read that again, and let the grace and truth of those words sink slowly into your mind. The Word who called all things into being, becomes a human child. The almighty becomes vulnerable, the creator becomes the creature. Charles Wesley in one of his lesser known hymns describes the perplexing miracle of those words, "the Word became flesh":
Emptied of his majesty, of His dazzling glories shorn,
Beings Source begins to Be, and God himself is born!
Sunday
John 1.18 “No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son, who is himself God and is in closest relationship with the Father, has made him known.”
The child’s question, “What is God like?” shouldn’t really be all that hard to answer. God is like Jesus. That’s what John is saying. Jesus himself said, “He who has seen me has seen the Father.” Paul thought the same, “In Jesus all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell.” (Colossians 2.9 RSV) The One who makes God known is the One who became flesh and lived amongst us. That is the profound mystery and miracle of Christmas.
When Worship Services are time limited and constrained by cool buildings well ventilated, and by the need to keep the service under 45 minutes, prayers must be brief and to the point. Today's service was based around Mary's Song, The Magnificat. The following prayer was composed around three of Mary's affirmations about God.
God of Light and Hope
No matter how difficult this past year has been,
You have been there for us, and with us.
Through all the strangeness of pandemic precautions,
You have been faithful and we have been held in your strong arms.
My soul magnifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour.
Holy and Mighty God
When we have felt helpless, and afraid,
You have been our strength and comfort;
What is unknown to us, is fully known to you.
There is nowhere we can go, but you are there,
With us and for us.
The Mighty One has done great things for me –
holy is his name.
God of love and mercy,
We look back with thanksgiving for our lives,
And we look forward with purposeful hope.
You have been our refuge and strength in the past.
Strengthen our faith, give roots to our hope,
And fill our hearts with renewed joy this Advent.
His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
In this image I see, and feel, the powerful combination of nature's stillness, the play of light and shadow, the palette of colours in the change between late autumn and encroaching winter, and the inner rhythms of a heart attuned to the church year. On a frosty blue-sky day in North-East Scotland, walking in the forest in early morning or late afternoon in December, is to risk walking unexpectedly into Advent.
When I encounter the interplay of light and shadow, and listen to a silence woven through the stillness, occasionally interrupted by the movement of robin, wren or coal tit, there is an inner ache of longing, an urgent call to relinquish urgency, a summons to pay attention from the Love which imagined and made happen such beauty, distilling the eternal to this precise moment. And in that moment of time, in a frosted, sunlit forest, when the beauty of light arrests the heart and apprehends the mind, God speaks words of comfort into those places where shadow and sadness dwell.
"Comfort, comfort my people, says your God….and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed." (Isaiah40.1) If ever words were made visible by Light as well as made audible by Love, it was these words of the Prophet Isaiah. Exiled hearts, broken by sorrow and exhausted by the work of hoping are told "the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all humanity will see it together." Later he will send a wake-up call to those who have become so used to that inner sluggishness of spirit that is sadness verging on despair: "Arise, shine for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you." (60.1)
So when I go walking in a forest a few days before Advent Sunday and look at shafts of light slicing through the canopy of winter gloom I have Isaianic moments. Years ago I took to that technical attributive adjective, and have used it since for those moments when the way the world looks is changed by moments of vision, when the heart pays attention and is surprised by the comfort of hope.
I've learned to sense the presence and nearness of God in such moments of unlooked for consolation. Not unprayed for, and not unhoped for – but moments when prayer is answered at the least expected moment. We all have our inner shadows of sadness, those sorrows that perhaps we don't tell, except to the most trusted, because they are unable to be adequately described. We live with them simply because they have become part of who we are. But they are not what defines us finally and fully. Out of them arises a longing for…well we don't always know what.
But in places of winter sunlight in a frosted forest in late November, on eve of Advent, some of my own ache of longing was gathered up into a vision of beauty. Light is such a swift and powerful antidote to darkness: "The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it." I prefer the King James rendering, "The light shineth in the darkness and the darkness comprehendeth it not." (John 1.5) Darkness lacks the capacity to understand light, let alone extinguish it.
This year as much as any year of my life, Advent comes as promise, hope, comfort in answer to our sadness, anxiety, fatigue, and the pervasive sense of loss. "The glory of the Lord shall be revealed," like shafts of winter sunlight in an ancient forest. "Arise, shine, your light has come…" Against the uncertainties that surround us, look for the Isaianic moments.
Up the road the family has had their garden in technicolour lights for a fortnight. That too is a form of longing, anticipating the coming of Christmas, pushing back darkness and insisting on early lights. My Advent is a sunlit frosted forest; theirs is LED reindeer, Santa and sledge, snowman, and Christmas tree. We share the experience of waiting, longing, hoping and living through what life is for us now. May the glory of the Lord shine on them, and our neighbourhood, our world, and into the deep places of our own hearts.
Since lock down in March 23, and in the following months of the pandemic, I have written a daily Thought for the Day for the folk in o8ur church community. Sometimes one of our deacons contributes a week.
During Advent I will be doing all of our Thoughts for the Day scripts. Below are those for the first week of Advent. The photos were taken while out walking on a frosty blue sky day in a local forest.
Advent Sunday
Isaiah 9. 2 “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.”
We light a candle each Sunday in Advent to announce the coming of Jesus, the light of the world. Dawn is not the same as midday, but it is the reassurance that daylight is coming. For Israel, long years of exile was their experience of lock down. This promise comes to them, and to us this Advent, as God’s promise that “the true light that shines on everyone, is coming into the world.” (John 1.9)
Monday
Isaiah 40.3 “A voice of one calling: “In the wilderness prepare the way for the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”
Jesus rated John the Baptist as one of the most honoured of men. He took this text and declared the truth of Jesus: “Behold the Lamb of God who carries away the sins of the world.” Advent is when we make way for Christ the King, a way that leads from Bethlehem towards Calvary, and beyond to the empty tomb. This is the time when we prepare our hearts for the coming of the King and his kingdom.
Tuesday
Isaiah 11.1-3 A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of might, the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord—and he will delight in the fear of the Lord.
This is an ancient text, which tells us Jesus is born from the house of David. Jesus will grow in wisdom with God and man, and Jesus will reveal the heart and the purpose of God. The Holy Spirit plays the main supporting role in the Advent story of Jesus, from prophecy to conception, from his birth to his baptism in Jordan, from Gethsemane to Golgotha, and from the resurrection garden to Pentecost. God is at work and will do all that he promises and purposes.
Wednesday
Isaiah 55. 11 “so is my word that goes out from my mouth: it will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”
Advent is about God in action. The Word became flesh and lived amongst us. Jesus is the coming of God in human flesh to redeem, renew and restore through the forgiveness of sins, the healing of the nations and the liberation of creation.
Thursday
Isaiah 35.3-4 “Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts, ‘Be strong, do not fear; your God will come…”
Waiting isn’t only an exercise in patience. The longer we wait the more tired we become. Israel’s exiles had waited 70 years, three generations. After that length of time hope is near exhaustion. Isaiah is God’s encourager. To every heart that has waited too long for hope, “do not fear, God will come.” Advent is about God keeping his promises; sure enough, in God’s time, but sure nevertheless.
Friday
Isaiah 7.14. “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.”
When Matthew told the story of Jesus birth he quoted this verse, and said everything that took place at Bethlehem was a fulfilling of this promise. Except he tells exactly what the name means, “God with us”. We only grasp the wonder of Advent when we say this word and ponder its meaning. God with us, here, now, always.
Saturday
Isaiah 9. “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government shall be upon his shoulders.”
The word government is a political word. No getting away from that. The child will grow to be a king. Standing before Pilate, the Roman Empire’s Governor, Jesus said “My kingdom is not of this world.” He is a different kind of king, exercising a different kind of power. His government is not oppressive, exploitative, self-serving, concerned with exerting power over others. Advent is about the coming of a new kind of power, to redeem rather than defeat, to forgive instead of condemn, and to set free not oppress.
Sunday
Isaiah 9. “And he will be called, Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
And there you have it. The qualities of God’s government. Wisdom, power, protection and peace, each joined to the other in the person of Jesus Christ, who comes in this gift of God’s child. Isaiah’s prophecy is both a foretelling and a forth telling of God on the move in the world. Advent is the time when all earthly forms of power are called in question. “Make way, make way, for Christ the King, in splendour arrives…”
This letter was written for our church community in Montrose Baptist Church, Scotland. It may be of interest to some who visit here. Welcome to those who do.
Dear Friends
Last week, I stood behind an elderly lady in the paper shop. She was struggling to make herself heard behind her face covering, leaning on her walking stick, and fumbling with the change in her purse to pay for her two purchases – a People’s Friend, and a Milky Way. Given physical distancing rules, the queue of several people behind me began to stretch back and round the shop. Nobody seemed that bothered. She slowly put her purse away, picked up her loot for the day, deposited them carefully in her bag, nodded to the shop assistant, and slowly moved away. As she exited right I was left with a feeling of joy at the simplicity and humanity of those two or three minutes.
On a raw morning in Inverurie, while waiting to buy my own paper, to read while having coffee at The Kilted Frog, a tiny drama of human courage played out, and shone like a light into the pervasive gloom of a year that has been hard for everyone. A queue of people, without words, and faces half covered, being patient, and an almost tangible air of kindness which was more than making allowances, and nowhere near patronising. And so a People’s Friend and a Milky Way, taken into hands with a slight tremor, became occasion of blessing for the rest of us.
I’ve thought about what was going on in those moments of encounter, when folk in a hurry slowed down, and the usual outbreaks of impatience in a retail queue were held in check. And I’ve thought about an elderly woman going down to the shop, keeping her routines and valuing the small stuff.
What was going on? Personally I think we all witnessed what happens when we opt for the common good, rather than our own rights, and when understanding and compassion for one person becomes a new strand in the fabric of our shared life in community. No, I don’t think everyone in that shop thought like that. But there are times when maybe, just maybe, the Holy Spirit creates something beautiful out of the ordinary, and when we sense the presence of Christ in the patient slowness of caring.
We are nearing Advent. It will be a Christmas like none we can remember, with all kinds of reasons to be anxious, negative, and wishing life was other than it is. Family gatherings, parties of friends and colleagues, shared meals and much else will be constrained. But there will still be Christmas. What doesn’t change is the coming of Christ into a broken world, on a dark night illumined by a star, and in the crowded resentments of a country under Roman lockdown for tax purposes.
In all the understandable anxieties and fatigue following nine months of pandemic upheaval, certain things are still true: Christ comes as Immanuel, God with us; the child is called Jesus, the saviour of the world; the angels sang of God’s promised purpose of peace on earth and good-will amongst all peoples; shepherds worshipped, wise travellers brought gifts, Mary pondered all that was happening. All still true.
There’s a lot we won’t be able to do at Christmas; but caring for others isn’t one of them. As a community of Christ we are witnesses to the love of God in the gift of Christ. Perhaps a more limited Christmas will enable us to reflect on the love of God for our broken world, and then to reflect that same love of God upon our broken world. At the close of our service last week, these words were sung:
Such love, springs from eternity
Such love, streaming through history
Such love, fountain of life to me
O Jesus, such love.
Which believe it or not, brings us all the way back from Bethlehem to Inverurie! The sense of spontaneous good-will in a newsagent’s shop is a tiny hint, no more, but no less, of what God’s purpose is for the church that represents Christ to the world. That means our words, attitudes, actions and the way we live every day, re-presents Jesus to others. To take my words above a step further, when we give our lives to Christ, and give ourselves in love to others, the Holy Spirit creates something beautiful out of the ordinary, and others will sense the presence of Christ in the patient slowness of caring.
The star of Bethlehem pointed the way to Christ. When Paul wrote to disgruntled Philippian Christians he told them they were stars. No, not the celebrity kind, the Bethlehem kind, pointing the way to Christ, telling them to live as “children of God…then you will shine among them like stars in the sky.”
During a Christmas like no other we have known, remember the connection between a People’s Friend, a Milky Way, the star of Bethlehem, and our calling as stars, pointing to Christ and shining with glory reflected from Bethlehem,
You friend and pastor,
Jim Gordon
Over the past week these are the Thoughts that were shared with our church community at Montrose Baptist Church. Every week we have done this since March 23, and it has become an important part of our shared life. It will continue beyond the current crisis.
We have resumed services, with all health measures in place, and are adapting to the strangeness. But whatever the limitations, there is something deeply hopeful about us gathering to pray, to read Scripture, to see each other, and listen to music and word.
Thought for the Day
Monday
2 Corinthians 1.3 “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort…”
Compassion and mercy have their origins and starting point in the heart of God. Jesus taught us to call God our Father, and Paul gives praise that the God and Father of Jesus is one whose compassions never fail, and whose presence is comfort enough, because it is the presence of eternal love in the daily time scale of our lives.
Tuesday
Romans 15.13 “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Read that verse again. Pick out the big words. Hope. Joy. Peace. Trust. But the first one is hope. Hope is so closely tied to God, that God is described as the God of hope. All hope starts in the eternal purpose and inexhaustible love of God. And as we trust in Christ who is the hope of God incarnate, so joy, peace, trust arise in our hearts.
Wednesday
Hebrews 13.20 “Now may the God of peace…equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever, Amen.
The God of peace has his work cut out, in a world that is fragmented and divided by all kinds of differences, prejudices, hatreds and inequalities. But all the resources of eternal love, infinite grace, and creative power came together in our Lord Jesus, crucified and risen. The God of peace is at work through the church, and through every follower of Jesus who shines like the stars on a dark night, as we bear witness to the Gospel of truth and life.
Thursday
James 1. 17 “Every good and perfect gift is from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”
“Lift up your eyes on high and see who has created these stars, the One who brings out the stars by number and calls all of them by name.” (Isaiah 40.16) If God is the absolutely trustworthy curator of the stars, he can be depended on to look after us. In all the shifting shadows of life circumstances God is the one true constant. “Great is thy faithfulness….thou changest not, thy compassions they fail not.”
Friday
John 4. 24. “God is Spirit, and those who worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.”
The Bible is very clear about what true worship is. “Surely you desire truth in the inward parts…” cried David. He went on to pray, “Create in me a pure heart O God.” Integrity is when what we say to God in our hearts, is lived out in our actions, spoken in our words, and thought in our minds, so that our prayers and actions are integrated. That is true worship, the integration of prayer and life.
Saturday
I John 1.5 “God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.”
Light is one of John’s most used ideas. If we want to know what it means to live in the light of God, John said that very clearly in the Gospel: “Whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God.” In the end truth isn’t only about telling the truth, it is about living the telling truth, that we are followers of Jesus, and witnesses to the love of God.
Sunday
1 John 4.16 “God is love. Whoever lives in love, lives in God, and God in him. In this way love is made complete in us…”
‘God is love’ doesn’t mean we have a free ticket. If we say we love God but hate someone, we are not doing the truth. If we can’t bring ourselves to love people we see every day, family, fellow Christians, neighbour or colleague, how can we say we love God whom we haven’t seen? To ask the God who is love into our lives, is to commit to being a person through whom the love of God is there for all to see.