ABR#14 Ezekiel

In 2009 I began to read the Bible alphabetically (see here for my rationale), reading each book at least three times and trying to get into the mind of the original author and readers as well as listen to God’s message for today. Here’s what I’ve discovered from reading Ezekiel.

God is angry with Israel for not treating him with due respect, so he is going to kill them all.

That, at least, is my first impression. Yes, God also issues similar pronouncements of doom against the surrounding nations, especially Tyre and Egypt. And yes, there are some more positive prophecies about the restoration of the nation and about individual responsibility. And yes, there are some mysterious and profound descriptions of an awe-inspiring God. But the overwhelming emphasis is on God's disgust and anger and his intention to destroy. There is little in the way of advice or instruction. Most of the prophecies are God's declaration about what he will do so that people will know he is God.

So my first question is how I am supposed to approach the book of Ezekiel. Here are some options:

a) This is not the inspired word of God, but the misguided ranting of some self-styled prophet; God would disown this book and prefer us not to read it.

b) This is the inspired word of God, who it turns out is a much nastier and more vindictive God than we thought.

c) This is partially the inspired word of God; amongst the dross of human misconceptions about God's intentions there are some nuggets of gold which give real insights into God's nature and his love. God wants us to ignore the unpleasant parts and seek out the passages which can inspire and encourage us.

d) The book of Ezekiel says what God wants it to say; he intends it to be read and taken seriously. This is the option which makes most sense to me, though it still leaves me wondering what God is trying to tell us today through this book. Perhaps he wants to remind us that he is more than a soft-hearted easy-going father-figure who smiles down on us benignly whatever mischief we get up to. We need to know that he is an awesome, frightening God who is angry when his love is rejected. We need to know that he is a powerful, active God who rules the fates of nations. And of course we need to know that he is a forgiving and more than fair God who is ready to restore the fortunes of those who amend their ways.

The book is a collection of written prophecies from around the time of the exile in Babylon. It also contains descriptions of various enacted parables through which Ezekiel put across his message – laying siege to a brick; shaving his head; burying his underwear; digging a hole through the wall of his home; shedding no tears over the death of his wife. As we would expect, all these prophecies share some common themes, but over the years Ezekiel seems to shift his emphasis from divine retribution to divine restoration.

The book also records a number of visions. The opening chapters describe Ezekiel's first encounter with God, surrounded by a heavenly retinue so strange that some have suggested Ezekiel was visited by an alien UFO. In later visions Ezekiel seems insistent that the glory of God was manifested in the same way as in his initial vision. Perhaps his most famous vision is of the valley of dry bones which came to life as Ezekiel prophesied, and were given the breath of life by the Spirit of God. It's good to know that the piles of corpses which God vowed to reduce Israel to are not the end of the story. Even dead nations can be resurrected.

The longest vision comes at the end of the book and describes in great detail a new temple and the rituals which take place in it. The angel who accompanies Ezekiel in this vision measures out all the buildings precisely so that Ezekiel can record the figures. He also shows Ezekiel a river of life flowing out from the temple. So the book ends on a much more hopeful note than the majority of its content. God is respected and worshipped. The holy place is at the centre of a restored nation with each tribe given a strip of land reaching from the sea to the Jordan river.

The reasons for the destruction of Israel and other nations are not spelled out in nearly as much detail as the manner of destruction. In fact it was only on a second reading that I began to notice the reasons at all. Mostly Israel had done wrong by worshipping idols, profaning the sabbath, and oppressing the poor. Tyre was rich and self-satisfied, but would ultimately be pulled down – a warning not to place our trust in how safe and secure our riches make us. The main fault of Tyre and Egypt (and Assyria) was their pride, with rulers thinking of themselves as gods. Surprisingly this is still a fault of people today, seeing themselves as 'god' of their own lives. "I'm in charge. I rule supreme over my life. I'm a self-made man/woman." We still need to acknowledge that God, not us, is God.

One of the repeated phrases, "so that they will know that I am the Lord", doesn't make sense to the modern mind. When once-great nations fall our reaction is not to say "this proves that God exists". And especially we wouldn't want to say that "this proves God exists and is a vindictive God who brings destruction and punishment". Perhaps in Ezekiel's day what people needed was a demonstration that God was in charge over seemingly powerful nations. But what's the message for us today? That ultimately right will be rewarded and wrong punished? (A key theme in some parts of Ezekiel.) Is the collapse of a nation meant to shake us into a realisation that there is a God after all, busy ensuring that justice is done? The trouble is we are more often drawn to sympathise with the innocent who suffer.

I must admit I'm having difficulty with the relevance of this particular aspect of the book. God seems to be motivated much more by wanting people to know he is God than by any thought for their well-being and prosperity. The best message I can take from this is that real well-being relies not on material blessings but on an acknowledgement of God as our creator, our Father, and the holy one who is worthy of our worship. God knows this and will not be satisfied with anything less.

In chapter 3 Ezekiel is given a scroll to eat. The contents are harsh words against Israel, but it tasted as sweet as honey in his mouth. This is not a bad description of the whole book. It contains plenty of unpleasant prophecies, but if we work hard to digest it and take it to heart we can find enough in it to delight us.

ABR#13 Mark

In 2009 I began to read the Bible alphabetically (see here for my rationale), reading each book at least three times and trying to get into the mind of the original author and readers as well as listen to God’s message for today. By the time I reached Exodus I had slowed down to the extent where the following book (Mark) has taken over four years to reach 'blog' status. Astute readers will notice that I have broken the alphabetical order. From the beginning I intended to read Mark earlier in the alphabet and Matthew later. This is to avoid tackling the three synoptic gospels in quick succession. So here’s what I’ve discovered from reading Mark.

The book is a story about one key person – Jesus – whom Mark immediately identifies as both Christ (= Messiah) and Son of God. It is very difficult to read the story as if hearing it for the first time. Many of the episodes are already familiar and I already know much about Jesus from other sources (and from experience), but I did my best to approach Mark with fresh eyes.

Jesus, a man from Nazareth, suddenly arrives at the Jordan river and is baptised by John. Before long he is making a name for himself all over Galilee as an inspiring teacher, healer and miracle-worker. He recruits followers who benefit from private teaching sessions and who are expected to do the same kind of work he is doing – teaching, healing and driving out demons. A turning point in the story is when Simon (also known as Peter) recognises Jesus as the Messiah. From then onwards the emphasis is on teaching rather than miracles. Jesus still teaches about the kingdom of God, but he also talks about his own role and how his enemies will treat him. He expects to suffer at their hands and be put to death. Arriving in Jerusalem he clashes with the religious authorities in all kinds of ways and is indeed arrested and crucified as if he were a common criminal. Mark concludes his book with a short teaser into what comes next – women find the tomb of Jesus empty and are told that Jesus has risen from the dead.

Do I find this Jesus an attractive personality? Would I like to hang around with him? He is a very formidable character, at odds with the authorities from day one, very critical, even angry, when they oppose him (for example, by focusing on the Sabbath rules and not caring about a sick man’s need for healing.) It can’t have been fun to be on the end of one of his tongue-lashings. The disciples didn’t always fare much better – “Don’t you get it yet!” he says in frustration when, for example, he finds them worrying about lack of food despite having witnessed two miracles of huge numbers being fed. At times the disciples do well (in their mission they banish demons and heal the sick) and at times they don’t come up to scratch (they can’t cope with the demon-possessed boy whilst Jesus and his three favoured disciples are up the mountain). Jesus seems most sympathetic towards the needy (lepers, paralytics, women with bleeding, dead girls) to whom he shows genuine tender concern. He is also sympathetic to the genuine open-minded enquirers, such as those asking "What must I do to be saved?" or "What is the greatest commandment?" even if the former didn’t rise to his challenge to put aside his wealth.

Mark is interested in telling the story of a man whose actions and teaching culminated in opposition, death and resurrection. Jesus dying and rising was the key element of the early Christian message, and Mark is preserving the stories of what led up to that. But what was the buzz of excitement before Jesus’s death? From the point of view of the sick he was a great healer and could make them well. For thrill seekers he was a man who made things happen (even if they were not sick themselves they could marvel at his ability to cure people.) Jesus downplayed this aspect of his life and work – he often instructed people to keep quiet about the healing miracles. But those miraculous signs helped give him an air of authority so that people were interested in his message – and that was what? 

Jesus's early teaching was simple: God’s kingdom is near; change your life. He expanded on this by telling stories (or drawing morals from situations he found himself in) showing the nature of this kingdom. For example, it demands a response; it grows secretly; doing God’s will makes you part of Jesus’s true family; accept it like a child; eating unclean food isn’t the problem, but what the heart vomits out is what corrupts life.  Sometimes Jesus himself is part of the message (the Son of Man is in charge of the sabbath not vice versa), especially in his later teaching which foreshadows his suffering and death. For his chosen followers Jesus was a man with answers, he could teach them a new way of life, though what he said was sometimes so awesome or so confusing that the disciples were left scratching their heads in bewilderment.

So basically Mark is saying here is a man who could heal the sick and perform miraculous signs, who delighted the crowds, antagonised the religious authorities, baffled and inspired his chosen followers, who, as time went on, became more aware of his impending rejection and death, and who willingly endured betrayal, torment and death as the ultimate act of serving others.

The style of the book is very episodic. I wonder whether Mark wanted it be something like an aide memoire for the early Christian community. He provides a compilation of the events and teaching Jesus is best remembered for. At times the context of a pithy saying is minimal but just enough to make sense of it. Yet this is more than just random episodes. There is a flow to the story. Most of the miracles and all the criss-crossing of the Sea of Galilee take part in the earlier chapters. The teaching about the suffering and significance of Jesus comes later. A good third of the book deals with the account of the final confrontation between Jesus and the authorities in Jerusalem, which on the face of it is a tragedy – a good man misunderstood and cruelly killed.

I found this book a strange one to get to grips with. Unexpectedly so. The gospels, surely, are at the heart of the Christian faith. Yet much of Mark seems to be about a very human figure – a popular speaker and a wonder worker. I can relate to the former. There are plenty of good examples of inspiring leaders who use words to change lives. There are few (if any) good role models of miracle-working leaders, so it is harder for me to relate to how the crowds viewed Jesus in that sense. But even with the miracles, I get the impression that this is a story about a man with mysterious powers rather than a man who is God incarnate, dying for our sins and rising again to show that death has been conquered.

Two things help me realise that Mark is writing about someone who is more than just an inspirational human role model. One is the opening sentence. Here Mark lets the reader in on the real identity of the one whose story he is about to narrate. The other is the final chapter. Even with its abrupt and unsatisfying ending, it contains enough to make it clear the story is not over. Jesus is alive!

Perhaps the struggle I have had with the down-to-earth nature of Mark's gospel is the very reason he wrote it. The good news about Jesus was already becoming widely known. Many already had a strong experience of him as a living Lord, as the Son of God, as the conquerer of death, as the saviour of all. These things were already a daily reality in the lives of Jesus's followers. Maybe what Mark wanted to do was fill in the gaps in their knowledge – to record the human ministry of Jesus in a way that would help his followers get to know their Lord more fully and more deeply.

Forgiveness: an analysis

There was a discussion on Radio 4 this morning about the nature of forgiveness. It prompted me to have a go myself at analysing the concept. This post is a record of my musings, ready for mayhap a sermon one fine day.

What did Jesus mean when he told the paralysed man "Your sins are forgiven?"

Is there any difference between forgiving a sin and forgiving a person? If someone has hurt us we would say "I forgive you" in preference to "I forgive your sin." Just as a sin is intimately connected to the person who sinned and cannot exist in isolation, so forgiveness is surely intimately connected to the person who sinned. To forgive a sin (or sins) basically means to forgive a person in respect to a particular sin (or all their sins). So Jesus presumably meant the man himself was forgiven.

What about the use of that passive tense? Is this just a different way of saying that someone has forgiven the man - in which case who did the forgiving? Or is this more like an adjective describing the status of the man (or of his sins, if you prefer)?

If I were to say "your clothes are washed" I am telling you that someone has performed the action of washing to your clothes. If I were to say "your clothes are clean" I am describing their current status rather than anything which has been done to them. Does "forgiven" describe what has been done or does it describe a status?

Let's consider the idea of 'forgiven' as a status. Given that 'sin' is not a physical commodity to be measured, there is no scientific test to determine the status of a sin. What about the status of sin in the eyes of the law? Some sins (not all by any means) are a crime and carry a punishment. Forgiveness has no impact on the legal consequences of a crime. A murderer could be forgiven by the victim's family and still have to face the just sentence required by law. Indeed, forgiveness has no impact on any physical consequences of a sin. If I were to punch you in the eye, you would end up with a black eye regardless of any act of forgiveness. It is difficult to think of 'forgiven' as a status unless you believe that it describes God's view of a person and their sin. Which brings us to...

If 'forgiven' implies that someone has done the forgiving, who has done it? Logically there are a number of people who could forgive. The victim themselves; friends and family of the victim; other people with no obvious links to the victim; God. And logically, they don't all have to do the same thing. I might forgive the dastardly person who parked in my place at church, and the other church members (feeling righteous anger on my behalf) might not forgive - or vice versa.

The conclusion I'm veering towards is that forgiveness is about the attitude of someone towards a sinner, and maybe is also about the way that that someone behaves as a result of that attitude. There are many ways one might describe a forgiving attitude. Here's my attempt - to forgive someone is to refuse to allow the natural hurt and anger at their sin to get in the way of loving them as you would love any other human being.

Whether or not we forgive does have an impact on our own behaviour, and on our own well-being. It may or may not have any direct impact on the one we are forgiving. (A burglar in prison may not know or care whether his victims have forgiven him.) Whether or not God forgives presumably has a much greater impact.

The true God is no burden

Bel and Nebo have to be carried around. (Isaiah 46) They are a burden to their followers. So when I am facing (for example) having to pick up a Bible in the morning for devotional purposes and I am sighing inwardly and thinking "Here we go again. I suppose I better just gird up my loins and get it over with" perhaps the god I'm dealing with is not the true God. If what I'm doing is burdensome, then something is seriously wrong. I'm dealing with idols not God.

My dealings with God should be marked by a sense of freedom and joyful anticipation. He is not like Bel and Nebo. Just the opposite. In Isaiah 46:4 he reminds me "I have made you and I will carry you."

The Utter Relief of Holiness

I'm at a two day residential meeting for Methodist Superintendent ministers. I'd not read the programme carefully enough, so the two and a half hours of free time have caught me by surprise. Instead of settling down to another crossword or some iPad game I decided to finish reading The Utter Relief of Holiness by John Eldredge. I've now finished it and reflected a bit on it - and it's time to record my thoughts in a blog entry.

First, what do I need relief from? Answer - feelings of addiction to self-indulgence and frustration at inadequate ministry.

To be specific, I give in too easily to nibbles between meals and I enjoy the thought (and taste) of large portions at mealtimes. After a long lunch break I too often shut my eyes for forty winks and a good part of the early afternoon slips by. My current hobby (table top board games), whilst fun and wholesome (if you don't count the deviousness, ruthlessness, deception and aggression), is in danger of becoming an obsession. The problem is not so much that I enjoy games when I get to play them, but that I spend a lot of time thinking about them, anticipating the pleasure, listening to podcasts, watching youtube reviews and so on.

The problem with all the above is that the momentary pleasure I get from enjoying myself is often followed by a sense of guilt that I have been way too self-indulgent.

Then there are my failings in ministry. Not enough pastoral visiting. Inadequately prepared leading of worship. Long lists of jobs, many of which will simply not get done. Meetings at which I have to make excuses for action points not accomplished. The biggest frustration is the knowledge that I could have done better if I had used my time more efficiently.

OK, so what has John Eldredge taught me (or rather, what does Jesus want to teach me through his book) about finding relief from all this?

1.  The only benefit of feeling guilty about the above frustrations is if it motivates me to do something to change my life. Merely wallowing in guilt will not accomplish much. In fact, if I wanted to be really honest in my judgement, my list of sins could be a lot worse. You will have to take my word for this, dear blog-reader, but when it comes to confessing my sins I've pretty much covered everything already. I have no other dark secrets.

So I could shrug my shoulders and carry on the way I am but stop feeling guilty about it. Or a better idea is that I could, as Mr E advises, ask Jesus to give me his holiness.

2. Perhaps the biggest obstacle to get over is to realise that life doesn't have to continue as it has in the past. When Jesus promised to set us free, he really did mean that he could break any hold that sin has over us. It's as if I had a 'protect from evil' card to play every time there was an attack on my life. Wouldn't it be great to live a holy life and not have to be so frustrated about my failings? Yes - and Jesus makes it possible! So step one is to believe it, ask for forgiveness, ask for a new start, ask for holiness, ask for protection from temptation, and trust that I really do have a free choice NOT to do what I've done before.

OK, done that - now what?

3. No doubt I will have to keep praying as above in order for this new-found holiness to take root in my life. Meanwhile there are a number of simple things I can do to avoid temptation to self-indulgence and to focus on more effective use of time. Especially recognising that some of the listed frustrations are inter-linked.

a) Whenever I feel like eating snacks, or taking a post-prandial nap, or wasting time on computer trivia, I need to remind myself that these things are not inevitably going to happen. Just because the idea of them has entered my head doesn't mean I must do them. I have a choice. With a quick prayer and a good decision I can avoid them.

b) Regarding board games. I don't want to give this up as a hobby. And I don't think I need to. But I do need to restrict my enjoyment to those times when I can actually play games with friends (or sometimes solitaire) and to the occasional podcast or youtube video during times of relaxation (not during working hours). Between nine in the morning and ten at night (or whenever the evening meetings are over) I should be focussing on other important aspects of life. In other words - don't think so much about board games!

c) Love God and love others. Holiness is not about avoiding bad things, it's about spending time and energy on good things. Every time I have to make a decision about what to do next (and I'm thinking mainly of day time and work time, though a similar principle could apply to times of relaxation too), I should be asking myself what will be pleasing to God and helpful to others. What will meet the needs of the people at church? My own family? The wider community? I may not be able to achieve everything on my to-do list, but if I've spent my energies on things which matter, then at least I will feel I've achieved something worthwhile.

d) Get to bed by 11:00 whenever I can. It's good to relax for a while at the end of the day, but not at the expense of late nights and feeling tired the next day.

4. That's plenty of thoughts to be going on with. Will it make a difference? Come back to this blog in a week or two and find out.

Good shame, bad shame

John Elderedge (in The Utter Relief of Holiness) has a simple test as to whether the sense of self-reproach, or 'conviction of sin' to use an old-fashioned term, is a good thing or a bad thing. Does it drive you towards God or away? There is a difference between the sense of unworthiness which leads to forgiveness and restoration and the sense of unworthiness which leads to misery and self-loathing.

I immediately thought of Simon Peter's reaction to Jesus at the large catch of fish - "Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!" (Luke 5:8) By the above criteria this was a bad kind of shame he was feeling. But then I remembered the first part of that verse - "When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus' knees and said..." Given that actions speak louder than words I think Simon was feeling the right kind of shame after all - the kind which drove him to seek Jesus and be transformed.

Just pretend I'm not here

A parent wanders into a room where their offspring is engaged in some activity. The offspring pauses, hoping the parent will take the hint and leave. The parent carries on with some business in the background saying, "Just pretend I'm not here."

It doesn't work. People behave differently when other people are around. Daughters pause the DVD they are watching whilst their father is in the room. Drivers watch the speedometer carefully whilst the police car is visible in the rear view mirror. Employees are circumspect about their opinions on the workplace whilst the boss is lurking in earshot.

Perhaps that is why God chooses not to make his presence felt for so much of our lives. He doesn't want us to feel that we have to be on our best behaviour because we are being watched. Perhaps he is waiting for us to get to know him well enough that we welcome his presence and long to have him around us - as lovers do for their beloved. Then, when we are living to please him because we want to please him and not because we are nervous of his disapproval, he will make his presence known more clearly.

(above thoughts inspired by John Ortberg's book "The me I want to be")

Living as if God were real

I shall try not to make this sound as if I'm having a crisis of faith, but for some time now I've been having a crisis of faith - sort of.

Richard Dawkins and people of his ilk are to blame. They argue strongly that God is not real and all experiences of him are just a delusion. My problem is that although I don't think they are right, I'm not 100% sure. The human mind is such a strange and complex thing that it strikes me as possible (though highly unlikely) for some kind of God-awareness to develop even if no God exists.

So I've been trying to ignore my niggling doubt and just get on with living as a Christian, trusting the God revealed in Jesus, saying my prayers, preaching the gospel, sharing God's love and so on. But the niggling doubt hasn't entirely gone away. This morning I think I've found (or been given by God) a logical argument which will banish that doubt. I can explain it best via a computer game. Mario Kart Wii would do as an example.

At the very basic level computer systems are just lot of binary bits being manipulated. Images on screen are just a bunch of dots. Yet out of these low level systems other higher level features emerge. I open and close windows (on my Mac) as if they were 'real' objects. I choose characters on Mario Kart Wii and steer them (often unsuccessfully) around racecourses. Some scientists would argue that human consciousness is 'merely' a higher level feature which emerges from lots of low level activity (i.e. the firing of neurons in the brain).

And here's my insight: Whether such higher level features are 'real' or not, it's good to act as if they do exist. When I play Mario Kart Wii I couldn't care less that the characters are just a collection of pixels. I drive that Kart as if something 'real' was taking place. I even apply this principle to human relationships. I know that in conversation with someone both our words are being shaped by firing of neurons in the brain and twitching of assorted muscles in the mouth and throat. Yet I act as if there was a 'real' human mind in my interlocutor communicating information to me. In fact I would go as far as to say that to all intents and purposes the Karts and racecourses on the Wii and the human personalities in the people I meet DO exist. I interact with them. I enjoy interacting with them. This is what life is about.

Why should I not approach my faith in God in the same way. OK, the possibility still exists that my faith only arises out of the peculiar complexity of the human brain. But so what! My faith exists. God is as at least as real as any of the above 'higher level features' which I've been describing. There is no point harbouring that niggling doubt any longer. However it has come about, God is part of my life and I ought to get on with loving him and serving him. Which will be far more fun and far more rewarding than managing to drive around the Rainbow Road three times without falling off.

A life cut short

During his ministry, Jesus seems to have taken special care to train up a privileged inner core of disciples, consisting of just three men. For example, they were the only ones (other than her parents) allowed to see him raise the daughter of Jairus; they were the only ones who saw him transfigured on the mountain and talking with Moses and Elijah; they were the only ones invited to accompany him in his anguished prayer in the garden of Gethsemane.

This level of intimacy was clearly an important preparation for their ministry. Peter became the first spokesman of the disciples and was a key figure (arguably THE key figure) in the early days of the church. John had a long ministry and (at least according to tradition) was writing well into his old age, recording for us the life of Jesus in his gospel, giving us a glimpse behind the scenes in his book of Revelation, and dispensing vital wisdom about love in his letters.

And James? He did very little of note and then was killed in the first wave of persecution. What a waste! In fantasy fiction some authors (I'm thinking of George R R Martin and Brent Weeks) seem to delight in killing off major characters just as they are about to fulfil their potential. As a reader this is immensely frustrating. You journey with the character through all the hardships of his early life, see his character being moulded, rejoice as he overcomes difficulties, and then just as he has developed into a great leader and you are looking forward to reading of his great deeds, up pops an assassin of some kind and swiftly despatches him from the story.

Having noticed that James was the same kind of character - full of potential, trained for greatness, then his life cut tragically short - I couldn't at first see what I might learn from the insight. Then I realised fantasy fiction may provide an answer. One effect of reading books by the authors I've mentioned is that, if you know the author is not afraid to kill off major characters you are genuinely worried when other well-liked characters are in danger.

The early death of James shows that there are no guarantees in the Christian life. To take my own life as an example: Just because I have been trained and moulded for ordained ministry doesn't mean that I get to fulfil my potential. And I'm not thinking now of premature departure from this life, I'm thinking of how easily I could let all the potential go to waste through my own actions (or inaction). Just because God called me to ministry, and has given me some of the gifts and graces needed for the work, doesn't mean I can rest on my laurels and expect everything to be hunky-dory. James reminds me that even those with the greatest potential don't always live to fulfil it. When people look back at my life, will they say 'he started well; shame he never lived up to that early potential'?

Restoration

The book "Fathered by God" has stirred me up somewhat. The author's enthusiasm for fly-fishing, hunting (with guns) and dangerous mountain climbing is a long way from my own (current) passions for cryptic crosswords, fantasy literature and board games. But I was intrigued by the idea of a man (yes, it's a book aimed at men) needing to grow through the stages of cowboy, warrior, lover, king and sage.

Where am I on that scale? My vocation has brought me responsibility for the spiritual well-being of two churches, not to mention rest of the Methodist circuit. I should be of the age and experience to be a king, and soon ready to dispense the life-long wisdom of a sage. But I'm not convinced I'm ready. I've not been tested as a warrior by hard spiritual battles on the way. I still find pleasure (see above list of passions) in the simple adventures of the cowboy.

I also felt a little envious of the author's apparent ability to hear answers from God when he had prayed. Why doesn't God speak to me like that? Well yesterday he did. I almost missed it as I was reading through the Old Testament lectionary reading for the coming Sunday. But something made me stop and re-read Jeremiah 15:19. It sounded very much as if God was speaking to me and giving me hope that it's not too late to change - for example, to let go of my addiction to trivial leisure pursuits and use the time more wisely in taking up more important spiritual challenges.

"Therefore this is what the Lord says: If you repent, I will restore you that you may serve me; if you utter worthy, not worthless, words, you will be my spokesman."

We are not alone

This is one of those obvious things everybody knows, but which doesn't always sink in. We are not alone. Or to be more accurate: the thought which has gradually penetrated my skull this morning (as I was reading about God acting as a father to us) is that "I am not alone". Most of my life I behave as if everything was up to me either to sort out or to put up with. This is not true. The point of having a heavenly Father is that he actively wants to help me. He wants to show me the best path to follow. He wants to give me the knowledge and experience I need to walk that path. He wants to join me on the journey and do for me some of the things I can't (yet) do for myself.

Hopefully, by writing down these basic and already-known truths, I will remember the full impact of them. Even in such a mundane job as going through the accumulated post (the next task looming large on the horizon) God is with me to guide, train and participate.

People Need Jesus

I've just returned from a hugely encouraging 'Churches Together' AGM. The keynote speaker was a Baptist minister sharing with us all that God has been doing through churches working together in Winchester.

One phrase which struck me powerfully (and hence I need to record it) is the answer to the question of what we can unite around. Not our ecclesiology. Not our theology. But our mission. To quote the speaker: "If you agree with me that people need Jesus, then we can work together." I think that is an excellent phrase to unite around.

It may be that some see Jesus as the only one who can save people from eternal damnation. It may be that some see Jesus as the one who welcomes all people into God's unconditional love. It may be that some believe Jesus is encountered best through bread and wine, and some believe he is encountered best in the service of others. But surely one thing that all Christians can agree on is that people need Jesus. To disagree would be to say that people can cope with life perfectly well without Jesus - which is surely not a Christian viewpoint.

Anyway, the phrase has reminded me what mission is all about. People need Jesus. So what am I doing to help people recognise that need and discover the difference that Jesus can make?

A kick up the backside

Life is good. I am very contented. I have no major worries. Family, health, finance - all ticking along nicely.

I perceive this as something of a problem, highlighted by the question "These days what am I passionate about?" I would find it difficult to come up with an honest answer which didn't make me sound idle and self-centred. (Possible answers include trivial pastimes on the computer and organising my iPod - as I said, nothing which puts me in a good light.) I know what I ought to be passionate about - communicating the gospel; being a follower of Christ; helping make this world a better place. So why don't these things stir me and motivate me?

OK, let's not paint too harsh a picture: Yes, they do stir me a bit. But not nearly enough.

I once read a prayer (it's in one of my books somewhere and I'm sure I'll come across it again one day) which ended with the heartfelt plea, "Give us a kick up the backside, Lord." I need to make that my own personal prayer...

Lord, shake me out of my contentment. Stir me up. Ignite my fire. Renew my passion. I realise that for this to happen it may mean some big problem or issue landing on my lap, but if that's what it takes, then so be it. I could happily drift along like this indefinitely, but it wouldn't be good for me, and it wouldn't do much to advance the cause of the kingdom. So give me a kick up the backside, Lord. May the next blog entry be one in which I record that I have been well and truly kick-started!

When did the universe fall?

Thanks to Michael Lloyd’s book Cafe Theology I have begun to redefine my views on the doctrine of a fallen creation. He has helped me overcome what I thought was an insurmountable obstacle.

My old view was this: Suffering and pain is an unavoidable part of the universe. God’s creation is vast and intricate. He has produced a cosmos in which the basic forces and elementary particles combine to produce a range of elements, coalescing over billions of years into stars and planets. He has created the fundamental laws of nature by which life has gradually involved into the world we now know and love. Unfortunately the process by which life is formed includes planetary upheavals such as earthquakes, volcanoes and hurricanes. The mutations which are vital to the evolution of human beings also give rise to disease and disability.

Just as you can’t have a system of mathematics which has only even numbers and no odd numbers, I cannot see how it is scientifically possible to have a universe in which life in all its glory exists but without any form of destruction or chaos or pain. My daughter asked me many years ago “Why did God make the wind?” This was said as a complaint because she was finding it difficult to walk against a strong headwind. But the question prompted me to think how, if I were God, I would organise the world so that the air never moved at more than say 20 mph (a bracing, but non-destructive rate of motion.) Given that air currents are a consequence of a spinning planet and the unequal warming effects of the sun, I concluded that the only ways to avoid strong winds would be to create beings capable of surviving in no atmosphere, or to change fundamentally the laws of physics such that gravity and light behaved differently so we could live on a flat earth.

I was reasonably happy with my conclusion. My view that natural disasters or diseases were simply an essential part of the fabric of creation helped to answer the question “Why does God allow earthquakes?” The answer: “Because without earthquakes the earth would be a barren rock and life would not exist.” And similar answers could be given for all other forms of suffering. Even God in all his wisdom couldn’t produce a system of laws which gave rise to life but didn’t allow for any harmful consequences.

But I recognised one big problem with this view. I was essentially arguing that our universe is the best possible one God could have created. No other kind of universe could give rise to living creatures. So what about heaven? My concept of heaven is that it is a perfect place – no more tears, no more pain, no more death – and it is more real, more physical, more solid than our present existence. The present universe is a pale shadow of the new creation God has in store for us. But if God can create a perfect heaven – a place where life is lived to the full without any of the drawbacks of earth – then this present universe is not after all the best God could have come up with. You see my dilemma?

Michael Lloyd’s view is that this universe is NOT how God intended it to be. The doctrine of the fall shows that God doesn’t always get what he wants. He wanted Adam and Eve to leave a particular fruit untouched. Instead they ate it. Even if we take this story as a metaphor, the principle is surely correct. God doesn’t want people to suffer. He didn’t plan for earthquakes or diseases. So what went wrong?

To say that we humans are to blame because we have made wrong choices is only part of an answer. God made us as free agents. He wants us to love one another. If we choose not to love one another, then people get hurt. Murder (for example) is not God’s wish or God’s plan. You can explain some suffering as a consequence of God loving us enough to give us freedom. And this is real freedom – he doesn’t step in to interfere whenever we choose to act in a hurtful way. But you can’t explain tsunamis or cancer in those terms.

Violence, geological upheaval, carnivorousness, disease, destruction and death – these have been around for much longer than human beings, and do seem (as I argue above) to be part of the fabric of the universe. So if the universe itself is not as God really intended, something must have gone wrong at a very early stage.

There are hints of this in the Biblical narrative. The serpent was clearly up to mischief, working against God before the fall of Adam and Eve. Also, part of God’s purpose for the human race was to “subdue” the earth (Genesis 1:28) which implies that creation was not quite what God yet wanted – it needed someone to take control and make it as it should be.

Lloyd’s suggestion is based on the assumption that the physical universe is not the only thing in existence. There is a spiritual dimension to reality, inhabited by spiritual creatures who (like us) have been given free will and work with God in all his activities. Before the dawn of time, some of these ‘angels’ (to use the traditional term for them) chose to work against God. The ‘fall’ had already taken place before God’s creation began. Hence the universe, though essentially good (Genesis 1:30), had a flawed streak running through it. Part of the role of men and women was to mend this flaw and bring creation to perfection. We have failed to do this and instead chosen to act in ways which have made the situation worse.

However, all is not lost. God’s ultimate plan is for a world in which the lion and the lamb can coexist peacefully, and he has shown us in Jesus what it means to tackle the flawed nature of the world head on. Jesus cured disease, made the disabled whole and even took control over the wind and the waves. His reaction to the storm was not “oh well, it’s an inevitable part of creation that we just have to put up with”; it was “Peace! Be still!”

So my view has changed. And hopefully for the better. No longer should I shrug my shoulders at natural disaster or disease and say “well it’s the downside of living in an environment that can produce life”. Instead I should resist all forms of suffering as Jesus did, saying “This is not as it should be. This is not what God wanted. How can I help to put it right?”

I am still left with some deep philosophical and scientific questions. I’m not quite sure about the nature of heaven. What is the perfect world God is going to bring about? Is it an entirely new order of creation based on even more awesome laws of nature which I can’t possibly imagine? Or is it a version of our present universe with its flaws fixed? And if the latter in what way can they be fixed? Will human beings be able to turn off storms at will whenever they threaten to be too destructive? Will lions become herbivores?

But I’ve spent quite long enough already. Leaving such questions on one side... my shift of thinking is from “Suffering is unfortunate but it’s not God’s fault because it’s an inevitable consequence of a universe which can produce life” to “Suffering is not an inevitable part of the universe. God didn’t want it and is doing everything possible (short of removing our freedom) to defeat suffering and create a better world.”

- - - - -

Further thoughts in answer to the questions in the penultimate paragraph:

(I tried to add this as a comment but it was way too long)

Consider the game of chess. A playing board, 32 pieces and a few simple rules. Yet from this comes an immense variety of game-play, not to mention books, tournaments, conventions, periodicals and grand masters. It’s amazing that simple laws can give rise to such fascinating, enjoyable and meaningful complexity. There is joy and fulfilment in outwitting your opponent. There is also disappointment and frustration when the game goes against you. The rules of chess have given rise to the pleasure of winning and the pain of losing. Would it be possible to have a different set of rules which led to all players experiencing the thrill of winning and no player downcast at having lost? It seems unlikely.

My view of the present universe is that it is like the game of chess. A few basic components and a few rules about how they interact – but all created so well that they give rise to beauty, variety, life, relationships, pleasure and pain. The fact that God can come up with simple laws of nature that lead eventually to people enjoying such diverse pleasures as sex, chocolate and The Lord of the Rings – well it’s mind-bogglingly awesome. The trouble is that those same rules lead to supernova, venomous snakes and swords. Would it be possible for God to create a different set of rules which led to just as much variety, complexity, wonder and joy in the universe, but without anything detrimental?

Yesterday my answer would have been no. This awesome universe is as good as it gets. There are no conceivable laws which will produce only pleasure and never pain. As I indicated above the problem with this answer is that if God can’t do it for earth, he can’t do it for heaven either. If there’s no better possible universe, then this one is what we’re stuck with.

Today I have two possible answers. Both effectively saying yes.

a) Just because I cannot conceive of new rules which would fit the bill, doesn’t mean such rules are impossible. Maybe there are a set of rules by which the universe could have come into being as a perfect place with no hint of sorrow or suffering in any part of creation. Such rules would have to be even more awesome than our existing laws of nature. Scientists exploring such a new creation would be even more gob-smacked than they are now at the beautiful way in which everything hangs together.

b) The rough and tumble nature of the universe wasn’t really a problem before life came into being. Stardust being sucked into black holes and volcanoes vomiting clouds of ash is hardly what you would call ‘suffering’ because inanimate matter doesn’t suffer. It is people who feel pain, not rocks. (Though there is a debate to be had as to quite where you draw the line at defining suffering – a dog going hungry? a flea going hungry? a bacterium being destroyed by an anti-body (or whatever it is that destroy bacteria)? a grapevine being pruned?) Basically it is only when life (arguably the higher form of animal life) developed that you could talk about the world being a place in which creatures suffered.

So maybe God’s perfect idea of creation is not radically different from what we have now. It started off the same, but in God’s ideal world human life would somehow rise above the problems and subdue them and experience pure joy. Imagine an accomplished hang-glider going out in the roughest possible winds. The elements can be massively chaotic and threatening and the hang-glider experiences nothing but joy and exhilaration as she navigates the currents.

Is that an image which illustrates how we should somehow get on top of creation and enjoy it to the full without fear or pain? And if so, how can that be possible in the circumstances? We can overcome much suffering through the ordinary means at our disposal (our words and actions), but not all.

Perhaps God’s plan is for us to be like Jesus in having the ability to impose our will directly on creation. What this means in scientific terms is that we would have the power to change the rules. The built-in laws of the universe say that the wind and the waves are going to move in this particular dangerous and disruptive way, but when they threaten our safety we can say “that’s enough! stop it!” and the universe itself bends to our command. The built-in laws say that these leg muscles have wasted away and won’t function, but we can say “walk!” and the cells and sinews and chemicals in the body will adjust to enable a lame man to walk.

When things happen which ‘break’ the laws of nature we call it a miracle. Perhaps miracles are no more than imposing a higher law. I’m not wanting to move into the realms of ESP and telekinesis and mind over matter and all that. I’m just speculating. Jesus was so in tune with God that he was able to bring to bear God’s loving purposes (safety for the disciples; health for the sick) in direct contradiction to the way the universe would ‘normally’ behave. And he promised we would do greater things.

So is it not that the problematic pain-containing universe needs fixing, but rather that it needs taming? And is it the Spirit of God working through us that can accomplish that? Allowing us to be so in tune with God’s ultimate purposes that we can participate in exercising conscious and loving control over the wildness of the universe?

And what if we could all exercise such control? The image springs to mind of a world populated by powerful magicians who can do what they want with a spoken word – but that’s not the picture I’m trying to describe. If life was just like now but with everyone having power over nature, there would still be arguments, factions, disagreements, curses etc etc. That’s not the kind of world God wants any more than I do.

The kingdom is where God’s rule is acknowledged, where people love one another freely and self-sacrificially, where everyone finds joy in living life to the full and experiences relationships with one another and with God as they were intended to be. In such a context disease and disaster would not be allowed to intrude and spoil things. The potential for suffering might still be ever-present, built into the very fabric of the universe, but as soon as any kind of problem started to raise its ugly head, someone would take responsibility to say (on God’s behalf) “Stop it! None of that!”

Now that truly would be heaven.

Servant ministry

At today's ministers fellowship we were discussing how to integrate leadership and servanthood. And it dawned on me that I have lost any kind of passion for serving others. Perhaps that's putting it too strongly, but when I examine my motives for the things I do during an average day there are an awful lot of selfish motives. I think about what I'm going to eat, what music I'm going to listen to, whether I can fit in an after-dinner nap. Even the things I do as a minister are motivated by thoughts like "if I visit this person I won't feel guilty about not visiting" or "if I prepare this service well enough I won't end up looking like a total idiot".

What gets me out of bed in a morning? The opportunity to serve others? The opportunity to serve Christ? No, it's the opportunity to enjoy another day doing largely pleasant things. I've returned home with the desire to re-orientate my motives. If each moment I asked myself what I can do to please God, or what I can do to help others (the two answers will have a large overlap), then I will be far more likely to be acting as a servant should, instead of a self-centred hedonist.

As we prayed in pairs at the end of the meeting I was going to ask for prayer to help me be more of a servant. But my colleague had family concerns which needed prayer and support, so I didn't get time to say anything about myself. On reflection this was a good start. Forget self. Focus on others.

Saved from my own incompetence

We all slept late this morning for some reason. As I was emerging into consciousness a thought came to me out of the blue. "Didn't I agree to lead an assembly sometime at a local school? I don't remember seeing it coming up in my diary." At 8:40 I got up, splashed some water on my face and wandered into my study to set my mind at rest regarding the assembly. No sign of it on iCal (the MacBook diary which is usually such a reliable guide to my life). So where would I have any record of it? A search through the pile of papers on my desk brought to light a note which said "Monday 20th September, Assembly at 9:00" I glanced at the clock. 8:48 am. At this point I was still in my pyjamas and, not having done a school assembly for over a year, with nothing prepared.

Twelve minutes later I arrived at the school with a rough outline of an interactive talk in my head. My biggest concern was a totally dry throat which meant I was having difficulty talking. Fortunately there was a water dispenser right outside the hall...

So thank you, Lord, for a) the thought which popped into my mind as I woke b) a parking space within one minute's jog of the school entrance c) a water dispenser in exactly the right place and d) the positive feedback from an extremely hastily prepared talk. But aside from my heartfelt gratitude, I also ask for sufficient administrative competence to make such desperate measures unnecessary in future. Perhaps I ought to look through that pile of papers and see what other surprises are lurking.

ABR#12 Exodus

I have begun to read the Bible alphabetically (see here for my rationale), reading each book at least three times and trying to get into the mind of the original author and readers as well as listen to God’s message for today. Here’s what I’ve discovered from reading Exodus.

Leaving Egypt

As a narrative it’s a bit messy. The early episodes are snapshots within a larger history, and they don’t always hang together with complete logic. For example a) After the burning bush, a second call takes place when Moses returns to Egypt. b) A big deal is made of the threat to Hebrew male babies, yet Aaron (3 years older than Moses) seems to have survived without much problem. c) There’s a strange episode where God tries to kill Moses and his wife Zipporah saves him in some unclear way. d) If disease killed all the animals, why were some animals left to suffer from boils or hail?

Some changes take place slowly: Moses is extremely reluctant to be God’s spokesman and only gradually takes leadership. The slaves’ treatment in Egypt gets worse due to Moses stirring things up. The King reluctantly concedes different parts of the request (“You can stay in this country and worship”; “You can go but not too far or for too long”; “The men can go but leave your wives and children behind”; “The people can go but leave your animals”) but Moses sticks out for everyone leaving on a three-day journey (and in any case the King remains stubborn even after making some concessions.)

Perhaps this slow approach was necessary because the change was so massive. The Israelites didn’t like cruelty but that didn’t mean they wanted to uproot and leave the country. After all, they had homes, they possessed livestock, they weren’t destitute. But God had something greater in mind – not just freedom from oppression but a new home, their own land, a ruler who would be their God as well as their King. Perhaps the plagues and turmoil was as much to prepare the Israelites for leaving as it was to motivate the Egyptians to let their workforce go.

The story continues to be a little disjointed in places: a) The Passover and the crossing of the Red Sea, where ‘current’ events are mixed with laws about the feast and songs of celebration. In places it seems as if there have been different accounts (or even different types of account such as historical narrative and ritual instructions) woven together. b) There are references to the wind blowing back the sea to reveal dry land and to walls of water on either side, which conjure up two different images, one dramatic and miraculous the other more like a receding tide. c) One element of the Passover is purposefully ridding the house of yeast and avoiding anything fermented, but then there is the story of people being driven out of Egypt unexpectedly (as if they didn’t expect even this final plague to make a difference) and having to grab the bread which had not yet had chance to rise. On the journey they pause to bake it (portable ovens?!) even though it is unrisen.

Unlike some modern story structures which spend most of the time outlining the suffering of the hero and his oppressed people, and only resolve things near the end with a heroic rescue and the oppressors getting their come-uppance, Exodus outlines the suffering quite briefly and concentrates on the come-uppance at much greater length.

Receiving the Law

Exodus is a book of two halves. One big event in Israel’s history was their departure from Egypt. Another huge event was their encounter with God at Mount Sinai where He began to hand down a long list of commandments for them to live by, beginning with the familiar ten.

According to David Pawson each tablet held the full set of ten commandments – i.e. the contract was written out in duplicate, one for each party. This is a nice idea, but if true wouldn’t they have been kept separately? His summary of the ‘community’ laws being about respect, responsibility and retribution were more helpful

The early laws try to establish sensible rules for when people should be punished and when not – e.g. killing a burglar would be OK at night, presumably because you couldn’t see what you were doing, but not by day. This is no doubt better than anarchy, but still the rules are very harsh by our standards, such as the death penalty for hitting or cursing a parent. Many laws are about property, and payments made by way of reparation.

God then moves on to instructions for the manufacture of the ark, the tent, all the furnishings, the clothes for the priests etc. After the incident of the gold bull and having to start again with new tablets, there are equally long descriptions of how all the above were actually made. Why do we get essentially the same thing in two forms (‘God said do this’ / ‘they did it’)? Is it that two accounts have been put together? (in which case my impression is that they match in detail very closely – though I have not thoroughly checked on this.) Is it that the writer was a stickler for detail and liked to have everything spelled out twice? Is it that the writer is taking us step by step through the way that God’s instructions were obeyed to emphasise that they were followed in every detail? Is it to do with the pace of the narrative, because a summary like ‘they did everything God commanded’ wouldn’t allow the reader to live through the process of their actually doing it? Whatever the reason these are not the most gripping sections for the modern reader.

The initial laws seem different from the later. Straight after the ten commandments there are some brief instructions about how to build an altar – keep it simple, make it of earth, if you must use stones use natural uncut stones – then lots of laws about slaves, property, injury and compensation. Then Moses builds an altar, splatters blood against it and over the people, and goes up the mountain again with seventy elders where they all see God and survive. I can’t help thinking that what comes next – detailed instructions for a rich and elaborate worship area – must come from a different tradition. Perhaps the way to reconcile the two is to see the former altar as the everyday local or domestic place of worship and the latter as the one-off central and significant symbol of God’s glorious presence.

The laws are tricky to apply to the Christian lifestyle, partly because some are to do with the way society is run and justice is meted out (passing judgement on those who have allowed a borrowed animal to die is not part of my everyday experience) and partly because the whole system of worship (Passover, tabernacle, priestly clothing) is not the way we do things in church. It is the principles behind these laws which are more helpful in understanding how to create a just society and how to worship God.

The Whole Book

If you didn’t know the rest of the Bible story, how would this come across? – a persecuted people, the underclass, get their revenge on a cruel nation via their God who appoints a leader (and deputy) in Moses (and Aaron) – God is not just interested in freeing his people but in making Egypt suffer for their cruelty (killing Hebrew babies, setting impossible targets for their slave labour) – hence a series of plagues which ruin the Egyptian economy, destroy livestock and lives, followed by the death of the army – but the people are not out of the woods yet, they have to overcome natural hardships such as hunger and thirst, and again their God miraculously provides – finally they have to face up to their own behaviour – how can they live godly and pure lives? – and once more their God takes charge and issues a series of basic rules, plus a whole raft of detailed rules – which they at first spectacularly fail to keep and have to make a new commitment.

Does this work as a book in its own right, rather than one of a series? Certainly it has a proper beginning and end. It starts with a brief reminder of Israel’s family settling into Egypt, moves swiftly on to their troubles, the birth and call of their rescuer, Moses, all the dramatic signs and wonders which accompanied their escape from slavery to freedom. Once Egypt (thoroughly beaten) is left behind a new phase starts: the establishing of a law to guide them, and (after a few hiccups) the completion of an elaborate place of worship and accompanying priesthood. It ends with true worship (not of the false calf) taking place, and the glory of God filling this portable place of worship. The ‘happy ending’ is that he remained a constant presence and guide as they moved on into whatever the future held.

Some parts do not portray a loving God – the total defeat of Egypt (was it necessary to cause them so much suffering in order to get Israel free?) – the command to drive out the nations when they arrive in the promised land, and the assurance that God would help them succeed – the Levites’ demonstration of their commitment to God by killing thousands of fellow Israelites including their own families. Do we put this down to the attitude of the storyteller in an age when tribal warfare was common? Do we regard it as just the style of the story (similar to action adventure films where we are meant to enjoy the victory of the hero and not take seriously the colossal amount of death and destruction he leaves in his wake) Is this indicative of a side of God’s nature (coming down hard on any hint of sin) that we have forgotten in our emphasis on the God of love?

Some details I thought were interesting

The unnamed (until the later genealogy) parents did more-or-less obey Pharaoh’s instruction but in a way which led to a different result. Their baby boy was not quite thrown into the Nile, but placed gently among the reeds of the Nile in a basket.

Many of the plagues left the Israelites untouched – proof that there was a purpose behind them rather than being simple natural disasters.

The idea that ‘nothing like this had ever happened before’ comes across frequently, thus showing the power of God – his ability to do extraordinary and unique things.

At some point in returning to Egypt Moses sends his wife and sons back home (Midian) and only when he returns with a nation in tow does Jethro bring them out to reunite them.

A bit I’ve never noticed before: over 70 leaders ventured up the mountain and saw God with a pavement of sapphire beneath His feet, they ate and drank with Him and lived to tell the tale. In fact the variety of people who went up and down the mountain over the course of the story were so confusing that I lost track.

The poles for carrying the ark were left in place – a symbol of always being ready to move on?

God’s law was not “Here are the rules. Now you know. Job done. I’m off.” but “Here are the basic rules, but they include instructions on how to meet with me regularly so I can continue to explain and instruct and guide.”

Throwing blood against the altar must have made it look messy and undignified. And having blood thrown over the people (to seal the covenant) sounds even more unpleasant (though highly symbolic). Ditto for Aaron’s robes. Were they ever washed? There is a strange mix of high quality craftsmanship and expensive materials followed by splattering them with blood and oil to make them ‘holy’. Aaron must have looked more like a butcher than a priest.

One of the key moments of Israel’s history, the giving of the law, was spoiled by the people’s sin, abandoning their God in favour of a golden calf. It was only through the persuasion of Moses that they were given a second chance and even then there was bloodshed (3000 killed, the same number as those later converted at Pentecost) and God refused to travel with them too closely for their own good (to keep his anger from destroying them). The whole business had to be gone through again, but if anything the events are more spectacular the second time round, with Moses’s face shining from the experience. It’s not just in the little things that we can start over, but God is gracious enough to give us a second chance in the big things of life.

Further thoughts on Exodus can be found in several recent blog entries:

• Daily bread needed
• Time management idolatry
• Arm supports (gain without pain)
• Connect to God for regular updates
• Second chances
• Fun boy three and civil disobedience
• What size Bible chunks?
• How to build an altar
• God decides how and who

God decides how and who

Despite the long description of how to construct tabernacle, ark, altar, lampstand etc., I'm not sure there is quite enough detail for a craftsman to simply follow the instructions. You could imagine someone asking God, "How big should the pomegranate decorations be and what shape do you want the bells which alternate with them? Open-bottomed like handbells or little globes like sleighbells?" In order to get the place of worship built to his specifications God not only outlines his plans, but he appoints particular people to carry out the work (Bezalel and Ahisamach), to whom he gifts the required skills.

When I look at the church and the community we live in, then it's not difficult to understand what plans God has for us. At least I can envision an ideal world in which all people live in harmony and love one another in practical ways. Exactly how we construct such a world is not so clear. But then I realise that God has actually called me by name to be one of those engaged in bringing about his Kingdom. And I have to assume that if he's called me, he's given me the skills I need. It doesn't often feel like that. Usually I'm floundering in a sea of indecision not knowing the best way to lead. Perhaps I should trust my instincts more. Perhaps I should pray for wisdom and then be brave enough to move in what I believe is the right direction.

How to build an altar

After issuing the ten commandments on Mount Sinai, the next instructions that God gives to Moses are how to build an altar: keep it simple, make it of earth, and if you must use stones then stick with natural rocks rather than cut stones. So why is it that not too much later God gives long detailed instructions for an elaborate place of worship which includes a carefully-crafted acacia-wood altar overlaid with bronze?

One answer might be that over the years different traditions within Judaism have preserved different stories about Moses, each biased by their own particular emphases and that the book of Exodus is a compilation of different accounts. But even so the question remains - "What is God saying through these contrasting passages?"

On the one hand we should give our best to God - using the richest materials, the most skilled artisans, the highest quality worship. But we mustn't ever let this lead us from one of the most basic commandments, "Do not make and worship idols." If ever the pomp and ceremony become a god in their own right, then the simple ways are a healthy counterbalance. Just worship with whatever materials you have to hand. Don't waste time on fancy words or elaborate systems. Simply worship God.

A personal application: Not so much when it comes to worship, but when it comes to getting done all the things a minister should, I am very good at crafting elaborate systems for monitoring my task list and motivating my actions. At their best they are beautiful works of art which honour God by enabling me to be the most efficient person I can be. (This is an ideal situation I'm talking about, not my regular state of being.) But the closer I come to a beautifully organised lifestyle, the more my time-management systems are in danger of becoming an idol. I need to know when to forget the carefully-honed framework and just get on with doing what God wants.

What size Bible chunks?

Taking the 'daily bread' image of the manna one stage further (see here for earlier blog), I noticed that when manna first appeared those who collected a large amount did not have too much and those who collected a small amount did not have too little. If this aspect of God's miraculous provision continued, my logical mind says that people would have gravitated towards collecting small amounts and saving themselves too much effort. But if we apply the same idea to the daily reading of the Bible, what do we conclude?

That reading twice as much does not mean God speaks to you twice as much. The person reading many chapters at one sitting and the person focusing on one single sentence are equally blessed. Both ways of reading are important and valuable, but mere volume doesn't confer greater insight. If we are open and receptive to God, then he will give us just the right nourishment for the day, no more, no less.