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  • We are always human becomers……

    David Runcorn’s Spirituality Workbook continues to give me good cause to pause, and ponder. He writes:

    At a very confused and painful stage in my life I remember saying to a friend, ‘I don’t think I believe any more.’

    ‘You don’t sound to me like someone who has lost his faith, she replied. ‘You sound like someone who is having to live out of a new part of himself. You are still a stranger to this "you" that is emerging. So it is not surprising if you don’t yet know what faith means.’

    This honest, and compassionate recognition that we are all persons in process, that we are not yet definitively who God calls us to be, and that indeed what makes us human, loveable and fascinating, is our capacity to grow and change. Of course there must be a fundamental continuity that gives content to our personal identity, but there is also something necessarily provisional in who we are at each stage of life.

    Earlier in the book Runcorn indicates what he call ‘core truths about what it means to be human’. Amongst these is the statement,

    Getimageidx ‘We are becomers. We are unfinished. We are lives in process. On the wall of Chartres cathedral in France there is a sculpture of God creating Adam. Adam has half emerged from the dust of the ground and is resting, (or has slumped) against God’s knee, which he is clutching strongly with his left hand. The sculptor has chosen to freeze the action at mid-point. Adam is not yet a complete human being. He is halfway between death and life, being and non-being, dust and divine image. And so are we. We are always human becomers – growing, journeying, exploring.

    Amongst the many implications of such a dynamic view of human being, becoming and identity is that as a human being I can come to temrs with incompleteness. And all those experiences that evidence this truth about who I am becoming, such as my mistakes, failures, limitations, discontents, desires, regrets, fulfilments, frustrations – why cite the entire lexicon of human finitude – they are simply the truth and reality of what it means to be me, but also what it means to be me with potential, me in process of becoming.

    Earlier I was reading that remarkable ending to 1 Corinthians 13 – ‘Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.’ Till then who I am, only God knows. According to 1 John 3.2, ‘Now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.’

    And as a Christian, that is what defines me. Not my sin; not my finitude; not my achievements. But, ‘we shall be like him’; we will know ourselves, even as we are fully known. Till then we are being formed of the dust of our finitude, by a grace infinite in possibility, and endlessly original in creativity.

  • Non sacramental experience and the Church’s loss

    A sacrament has been described as like the experience of encountering the expression on someone’s face. We look and find ourselves looked upon. The smile, the eyes, convey the living personality behind the face. A sacrament is a sign that carries with it the living reality of what it signifies.

    So why is it that few contemporary books on spirituality, prayer and Christian life mention sacraments or communion at all? The best known introduction to Christian faith, the Alpha course, completely omits it. Contemporary worship songs show little interest in it. For a great  many people today an encounter with Christian worship and prayer will be a non-sacramental experience.

    These words are from David Runcorn’s very fine Spirituality Workbook (London: SPCK, 2006), 68.

    41kz59mvfxl__aa240_ This is one of the most enjoyable, articulate, spiritually sensible books I’ve read on spirituality for a long time. Runcorn aims at providing an integrated vision of Christian spirituality, based on a course of lectures given over some years to some very fortunate generations of students of Trinity College, Bristol. I’ll do another post later on the Scottish Baptist College blog and outline the contents and overall usefulness of this book. But reading it this morning I was halted by his beautiful description of sacrament, and by his justified complaint about the inexplicable neglect of Holy Communion at a number of levels in our contemporary practice.

    As a Baptist I already worry about the downgrading of the Lord’s Supper, so often appended to the service, at times stripped of liturgical depth, lacking spiritual beauty and omitting careful setting in the context of worship of the One whose real presence is an assumption of every community of believers gathered in Jesus name. Partly that’s because there is a fear of sacramentalism, and a corresponding insistence on simplicity, insisting it is only bread and wine, and avoiding any suggestion that anything happens of a miraculous nature – they are mere symbols, memorial elements.

    Dechaunaclatejuly3 And yet. Broken bread and poured out wine were Jesus’ own chosen vehicles to convey the truth and grace of who He is. Our fear of sacramentalism too easily becomes evasion of mystery, and reducing sacrament to mere symbolism empties the gifts of bread and wine of that rich evocative giftedness that transforms bread into nourishment and wine into healing and refreshment. Even our prayers of thanksgiving for the bread and wine, which at their best are a grateful remembering of Jesus’ death, can become reduced to mere remembering of Jesus’ death. That is, at the communion table, when we break bread and share it, pour wine and drink it together, we are not merely remembering, we are proclaiming – the death of Jesus Christ – but also the resurrection of Jesus, the life-giving gift of the Spirit to the community of Jesus Christ for the renewal of creation, the love of the Father and Creator revealed in created things, and the future hope ’till he come’, and when God will be all in all. The Gospel is a richly textured, theologically overwhelming story, which in bread and wine, in the community of Jesus, is ineffable truth condensed through faith and love into an affirmation of the redeeming activity and presence of the Triune God.

    So yes. I think Runcorn is right to warn us of contemporary Christian worship, praise songs, evangelism that provide a non-sacramental experience. The inexplicable yet inexhaustible love of God in Christ, embodied in the human life of Jesus, given in love and in mercy broken, forever living in the reality of the Risen Lord, creatively, subversively, transformingly active in a renewed and reconciled people, pushed out into a world groaning with impatience for redemption, yes, all of this, and far more, is implied in the sacrament of Holy Communion, the celebration of God in Christ reconciling the world to himself.

    A communion service that captures something of all that rich spiritual complexity, and a community that vitally and joyfully lives out of sacramental experience as God’s gift of himself in Christ through the Spirit, may be one of the most effective occasions for witness available to a church, perhaps too often looking for more dumbed down, marketable and convenient diets of worship.

  • Happy birthday to me

    1576871487_01_pt01__ss400_sclzzzzzz Yesterday was my birthday. One present was a subscription to a certain sports channel so I could see the Bayern Munich v Aberdeen game. Some might think since the result was 5-1 to Bayern Munich it wasn’t exactly the most affirming present. But we know our limitations – and live with them, albeit with grudged humility. Anyway, phoning up to arrange said subscription the service person asked for my exact name and title as on my card. It was the Rev that piqued up the conversation. What church? What College? Theology – very interesting she said. ‘Is that about God?’ I said yes. She said ‘I think God’s dead interesting’ I said, ‘God tends to be’. A few minutes later our deal was concluded, my details processed, and that was that. But I hope she goes on finding God interesting.

    Then walking along the street I passed four musicians setting up their pitch to do some buskering. Spoke briefly to wish them a good day – only one of them had enough English to have a conversation. They were from Eastern Europe, and had brought with them their horn, a trumpet, a trombone and another brass instrument I didn’t recognise. By the time I came past again 10 minutes later they were playing a beautiful version of Ave Maria – outside the Rangers shop! I gave them a second donation, and grinned all the way back to the car. Multicultural Scotland doing its own wee bit to erode by muscial stealth the hard edges of a sectarianism often enough expressed in music of a quite other kind.

    Left my keys at the Gateway cafe in the University. When I went back for them, it was explained that I forgot them because, and I quote, ‘Ye were too busy yappin’. I gently suggested that was a bit harsh so she rephrased it, ‘You were indulging in facetious conversation, then!’ Aye probably I was. But I love a world where in the space of a day, God is interesting, music undermines prejudice, and somebody knows me well enough to affectionately insult me, both in the vernacular and in overdeveloped discourse. And the chai tea latte was superb.

  • Honey from the lion’s belly…….?

    Honey is one of my favourite foods. There are those who are connoiseurs, who distinguish flavours, regions, species of bee, thickness and texture. And though i wouldn’t call myself a connoiseur quite, I do know what I like. And I like honey – most kinds. I haven’t tasted one yet that I don’t like. I’ve never left a jar unfinished. Whether it’s the runny honey that can make eating toast a form of extreme risk sport if you wear a shirt and tie, or the solid light brown stuff that bends the knife as you hack it out and spread it on the scone, or the honey on the comb which gives you hoeny in the raw, with some of the wax, I love them all. Greek Mountain honey that has a tang of liquorice; acacia honey that requires pouring over hot pancakes; Australian eucalyptus which unmistakably conjures images of koala bears; and Scottish Heather honey, none of your blended cheap stuff, the real rich natural coloured honey that was (I’m sure) in the mind of the biblical writers who dreamed of a land flowing with it, and called it the promised land.

    Lylesclassictins Obviously I love sweetness. Syrup and honey – yes and condensed milk, maple syrup, Scottish tablet.  I don’t just have a sweet tooth, I have a mouth full of them. Maybe because I grew up in a home where my mother baked often, and there was always a Tate and Lyle syrup tin in the house. Those who remember the green and gold tin with the black print, and the small oval panel with a picture of a dead lion, and underneath the biblical riddle, ‘Out of the strong came forth sweetness’, will now share in a moment’s nostalgia.

    The connection between syrup and honey, between Greenock (the town where sugar was a major product in Scotland’s recent industrial story) and Timnah (the village where Samson killed a lion and later found bees making a hive in the carcass), is the relation of sweetness to power. The riddle Samson told was a taunt to the Philistines; the sugar industry in this country was founded on slavery across the Atlantic. Makes it interesting that in ancient times when refined honey was greatly valued, it could be used as a form of diplomatic gift. The connections between honey and politics, between the sweetness of power and the bitterness of oppression, isn’t as fanciful as it first sounds.

    Lyleslionlogo Makes it interesting that Doug Gay entitles the lecture he will give in Paisley "Honey from the Lion’s Belly.’ The biblical allusion is impossible to ignore – but what does it mean? Come along and spend the evening with Doug, and take time to explore together the implications of nationalism as a feature of contemporary Scottish life that could do with some serious theological reflection. Honey from the lion’s belly is an allusion that could point discussion in several directions. The reason we’ve invited Doug to come is to enable us to think carefully and responsibly, about nationalism and national identity, about cultural distinctives and theological perspectives, and to do this from a Christian standpoint. Doug is a practical theologian, and that means he is committed to connecting theology with our lived experience, in our nation and communities. If you are interested and free, it’ll be a good night, and an important discussion. Details are on the Scottish Baptist College blog – click on the name on my sidebar of blogs I regularly visit!

  • Rev Professor David F Wright, 1937-2008

    Jason picked up from the New College website the sad news that the Rev Professor David F Wright has died. In leaving a comment on Jason’s blog, I found myself writing an appreciation of this good, wise and humbly faithful man, whose intellectual gifts were consecrated to the service of Christ and His church. I simply repeat here what I wrote there.

    David Wright was one of Scottish Evangelicalism’s leading lights. Professor Wright was a remarkably gifted church historian and theologian, whose expertise in Patristics as in Reformation studies was encyclopedic in scope and profound in the depth of his thought. Few scholars successfully become a recognised authority in two major periods of Church History – but David did this while also ranging throughout the wider disciplines of Christian scholarship with a most enviable facility.

    But as with a number of his generation it was his scholarly humility, his generous encouragement of others, his lifelong commitment to theological education as itself both spiritual discipline and intellectual vocation, his genuine enthusiasm for learning, that made him such a respected and loved teacher. He was one of a cluster of luminaries which included the late Tom Torrance, Alec Cheyne, John McIntyre – each of them scholar pastors whose learning was devoted to the service of Christ.

    Like Jason, I value the Dictionary of Scottish Church History and Theology – there isn’t a book like it, and it is only one of the legacies David leaves. British Evangelicalism in general, and the Scottish church in particular, have lost the presence and gifts of a Christian thinker steeped in the traditions of our faith, a man of measured, generous judgement, and an example to those of us who aspire to be scholars in the school of Christ.

    May the peace of Christ enfold him, and Anne-Marie and his family, while we in mourning his loss, give thanks for his life – and the way that life enriched ours.

  • A prayer for times of boredom

    Came across this prayer in David Runcorn’s book, Spirituality Workshop (London: SPCK, 2006). The sanctification of tedium, and the consecration of the ordinary, and the acceptance of times of boredom, are each part of what makes time and circumstance important media for our experience of God. The prayer is on page 149.

    Creator God

    Whose gift of life is found as much in tedium as in glory,

    teach us to be faithful in the most ordinary tasks of life,

    and to consecrate our bordeom to your service

    lest in mistaking dullness for your absence, we lose heart

    and in confusing excitement for your presence, we lose faith.

    For the glory of your name

    in all the world

    Amen

  • How do you read? On not telling Scripture what it means!

    Today I posted on our College Blog which you can find here. I wanted to think around the meaning of Jesus’ question to the lawyer in the passage that leads to the parable of the Good Samaritan. "What does the Law say? How do you read?" At College prayers we were helped to hear that question, "How do you read?" The post over at Scottish Baptist College Blog tries to hear the import of Jesus question.

  • We need to stop using “WE NEED TO….” in preaching

    We need to….

    We ought to….

    We must…..

    I once heard a brilliant Valedictory Address by Dr Derek Murray more than 30 years ago, in which he spoke about pastoral care as avoiding guilt-making. I’ve never forgotten the gentleness, compassion and pastoral wisdom of that address. Now I have no doubt at all that New Testament Christianity is profoundly, even outrageously challenging, demanding. And I know Paul especially, but John in his First Letter, and Peter and James, all assume a rigorous ethic of either imitating Jesus, being clothed with Christ, following Jesus in persevering obedience, getting the connection between discipleship and discipline, between trust and trying, between works and faith. But throughout the New Testament Gospel is Gospel, and the massive assumption that underwrites all Christian living is the invasive, radically renewing grace of God in Christ.

    3orsini Guilt is NOT the primary motivator; guilt is countered by grace and transmuted into gratitude which is then reminted in worship and service. New creation means the old has gone – including those buttons that are easily pushed to make us feel guilty, and which then act as levers to make us act differently, and live the way we are told to. But preaching the challenge of the Gospel is not about making sure I’m confronted with my own failure to live up to the demand of Christ; it is being reminded again of the grace unspeakable; it is being shown again the tragic beauty of holiness in Christ crucified and the triumphant glory of Christ risen; it is being drawn again towards that ingrasping love that reaches out to me in all my weakness, and failure and need. In fact the most important use of the word ‘need’ is not what I need to do, but that I need, and that Christ is all I need! What I need is not a moral makeover, but a miracle.

    Of course there is a place for conviction of sin, for recognising that even at our best we are unprofitable servants. But the wonder of the Gospel is that God doesn’t write us or others off as unthinkingly as we or others do. If it was up to some of us, and some of us preachers with our ‘we need to’ and ‘we must’, and ‘we ought to’ approach to ministry, the Gospel would be far less scandalous, grace would be far less free (by the way, how can something be less free anyway?), the love of God would begin to be brought under much more stringent theological control instead of being such an indiscriminate and endlessly patient mercy that pours down on our heads in huge cataracts of restoring, redemptive, renewing passion.

    The Christian heart is brought again to obedience and held in continuing obedience, not by any preacher’s scolding, not by diminishing me but by exalting Christ, by a Gospel proclaimed, by grace, mercy, and peace finding their ultimate focus on Calvary where God in the holiness of love encounters our sin at its most persistent and worst, and in its most trivialising disloyalty – and overcomes it. Grace is not only free it is liberating; holy love is not only forgiving, it is enabling; and my sin, my oft recurring sin, becomes by a mystery beyond telling, the occasion for a divine intervention that restores my soul. And if someone wants they can press my guilt button, but before I can ever think about changing my ways, I need to find my way, yet again, to the one who changes me.

    The hymn Amazing Grace is too easily eclipsed by cliche. But it tells a truth that should quality control all preaching that claims to be Gospel preaching.

    ’twas grace that brought me safe thus far,

    and grace will lead me home.’

    Newton was too clear-headed a Calvinist ever to make our relationship to God in Christ dependent on our own performance. ‘We need to….we ought to….we must….’ . Moral exhortation has its own importance, but when I go to worship what I need to hear preached is not my failure, but my Saviour; not my sins but the cross; not what I need to do, but what Christ has done with my deepest need.

  • Out and About: Walking in the Forest of Achray

    Dscn0563_3 Today Sheila and I gave our walking boots their first dirtying of the Spring. No doubt about it. Up in the Forest of Achray, above Aberfoyle, it was fresh, at times chilly, at other times balmy when the sun shone and we stood in the shelter of the pines. And it was Spring. Walked for a few hours and took time to work the stiffness and reluctance out of our legs, and by the end of the walk beginning to feel my body moving with some kind of rhythm and ease.

    Recent weeks of rain means there’s still a lot of mud, wet vegetation, but also streams running off the hills and the water crystal clear. Robins, chaffinch, greenfinch, several varieties of tit including blue, great and coal, pheasants shadow boxing amongst the brown withered ferns, and one of my favourite sights, multitudinous varieties of lichen in every variation of green and grey. I love the delicate filigree of these remarkable plants, and wonder at their capacity to cling to rock, bark and anything else that gives a life-hold by staying still long enough for it to grow. One of the most remarkable things about lichen is its capacity to capture the nutrients it needs from the atmosphere, having a 95% capacity to capture and fix nitrogen within its own life system.

    Bryoria20spp

    One of my favourite prose writers is the Victorian art critic John Ruskin. In one of his descriptive passages he draws a word picture of mosses and lichens, that is amongst the most beautifully observed and expressed passages of natural history writing I have ever read:

    No words that I know of will say what mosses and lichens are. None are delicate enough, none rich enough. How is one to tell of the rounded bosses of furred and beaming green- the starred divisions of rubied bloom, fine filmed, as if the Rock Spirits could spin porphyry as we do glass – the traceries  of intricate silver, and fringes of amber, lustrous, aborescent, burnished through every fibre into fitful brightness and glossy traverses of silken change, yet all subdued and pensive, and framed for simplest, sweetest offices of grace…

    Dscn0561_4 Yet as in one sense the humblest, in nother they are the most honoured of the earth children. Unfading as motionless, the worm frets them not, and the autumn wastes not. Strong in lowliness, they neither blanch in heat nor pine in frost. To them, slow fingered, constant hearted, is entrusted the weaving of the dark eternal tapestries of the hills; to them, slow-pencilled, iris dyed, the tender framing of their endless imagery. Sharing the stillness of the unimpassioned rock, they share also its endurance; and while the winds of departing spring scatter the white hawthorn blossom like drifted snow, and summer dims on the parched meadow the drooping of the cowslip god – far above, among the mountains, the silver lichen-spots rest, starlike on the stone; and the gathering orange stain upon the edge of yonder western peak reflects the sunsets of a thousand years.

    Beautiful.  A prose poem, a psalm to the beauty of the world, written by one of the great Victorians. That’s why I love Victiorian writers; they knew how to use words to render worlds afresh and anew. And isn’t that moss and lichen covered dyke a glorious festival of moorland colours – I took a few minutes simply to enjoy it

  • Realpolitik and Prophetic Truth Telling: Brueggemann on 1 & 2 Kings

    Andy asks in his comment about Walter Brueggemann’s commentary on 1 and 2 Kings. Do I think it’s worth buying? The book costs over £30, it has 644 pages, a CD Rom with the text of the book, pictures, maps, and other searchable data. Some folk complain about its cost, and right enough, it isn’t cheap.

    51rhh11tbkl__aa240_ But it is beautifully produced. This is a book lover’s treat. High quality paper, multimedia presentation, sidebars, two colours of ink, the book stays open on the desk. And I haven’t mentioned anything about the author, or the written content. Years ago I read David Gunn’s The Fate of King Saul, and encountered the biblical narrative in all its literary power. I realised that an understanding of literary genre, appreciation of skilled storytelling, and an understanding of linguistic devices and literary criticism was a remarkably fruitful approach to biblical interpretation, yielding quite unexpected theological results. Few scholars within the church have exploited this approach more creatively and productively than Walter Brueggemann. His first sorties into Kings include the old two volume Knox Preaching Guides which are still amongst the most stimulating comments on these royal narratives.

    This Smyth and Helwys commentary is on a different scale, and is worked at a much more sophisticated level of exegesis, theological reflection and biblical criticism. But those familiar with Brueggemann’s writing know that he is the master of biblical commentary and crafted critique which together call in question all status quos which dare to place themselves over and against God and his purposes. Few writers so consistently, persistently, even insistently bring to light the biblical critique of power. The hegemony of empire, the tyranny of the market, the idolising of the economy, the bondage that is consumerism, the hubris that disguises itself as political self-sufficiency. And all of this is to be found in this commentary where Brueggemann sets the biblical narratives of bad kings and good kings, of false prophets and true prophets, of cynical abuse of power and the divine exercise of power, against the backdrop of biblical history and our own contemporary realities.

    365624 Like several commentaries the Smyth and Helwys format has exegetical comment which explores text, history and canonical connections; but it also has sections called connections, where Brueggemann becomes more explicit about how these words and stories become the Word of God to our age, and within our story. I confess that I am a Brueggemann fan; have been since the early 1980’s, a bit before he became so well known. His tireless  explorations of violence and intrigue, speaking truth to power, prophetic faithfulness and divine loyalty; the thick texture of his prose; the subversive intent of his language; the transformative power he discerns in the stance of hopeful imagination; these and many other qualities in his writing have brought major swathes of scripture to life for me. This commentary does all of the above, and is simply a joy to read. I am reading through this big, sumptuous, illustrated, exegetical wrestling match between text and interpreter during Lent. And if Lent is supposed to be the time when we discipline ourselves in an ascetic way, then I am surely failing. because this book is pure pleasure.

    Not that I agree with all that Brueggemann writes. And yes when he focuses the ancient text on the power games of contemporary empire he often has his own nation in the sights. And there are times when he is so keen to show the free floating application of the bible text that its historical rootedness seems of little consequence over and against the critique it offers to our current history. But can he write! That isn’t a question, it’s an exclamation.

    But if what you are looking for is a guide into the undomesticated realities of biblical politics and power games, read Brueggemann.

    If issues of justice and peace, violence and power, faithful living and faithless existence, God centred worship and self centred atheism, are crucial issues for contemporary reflection, Brueggemann offers unrivalled access to the key texts, including in this volume the books of Kings.

    If the study of Scripture is for you both an adventure in learning and a seeking of God’s Kingdom through a life of graced renewal and faithful obedience, then Brueggemann the Lutheran scholar will be a demanding but rewarding companion.

    And if it matters to you that a biblical commentary should avoid the obvious, challenge our safe assumptions, mess up our comfort zones, and yet seek to remain in sensible touch with the meaning of the biblical text, then read Brueggemann’s books.

    As to whether this expensive, expansive commentary is worth buying? Those who buy commentaries are usually preachers, pastors, scholars. And there are cheaper alternatives to this on Kings. The Interpretation commentary by R D Nelson, is a very fine treatment of these books, theologically astute and seriously engaged with the text. The New Interpreter’s Bible (a set I rate very highly – I often use it for lectio divina) also has a good entry but it’s bound with about 6 other biblical books and costs as much as this big Brueggemann volume. Marvin Sweeney’s new entry for the Old Testament Library is just out and yet to be reviewed, and is very likely to establish itself as an important mid-range critical and theological commentary. But none of these offer the one thing I prize most about the Smyth and Helwys volume – the original mind and brilliant writing of Walter Brueggemann.

    Is it worth buying? Not for me to encourage others to spend their money pursuing my enthusiasms – but for me, this commentary mingles aesthetic enjoyment in a beautifully produced book, literary pleasure in reading such articulate and truth-slanted theology, intellectual provocation by a mind restlessly and faithfully prophetic, and spiritually clarifying argument both for the life lived faithfully towards God, and against life lived faithlessly in the endless spiral of wanting that is the consumer empire. Yet buying this book may well be just another such surrender. Precisely the double bind Brueggemann is so good at exposing. But yes – if book buying is part of your budget, and good commentaries are important voices in your conversations, then this one is a shrewd, ethically astringent and theologically imaginative voice that few of us can afford to ignore in our conversations about the meaning and demand of scripture.