Should we still remember?

Here is my sermon from this year's Remembrance Sunday service at Broughton:

It's now over one hundred years since the first Remembrance Sunday took place at the end of the First World War; this year we commemorated the 80th anniversary of D-Day; next year we'll celebrate the 80th anniversary of VE Day – and very few of those who remember those events are still alive today. So it might be reasonable to ask the question, do we still need to carry on remembering? After all we don't still remember the battle of Waterloo in the same way, and that too was a war to stop a dictator taking over Europe.

It seems to me that Remembrance Sunday is important especially for those who don't believe in God but still want to hold on to the idea that there are moral absolutes – that some actions are right and others wrong; that some actions are good and others are evil. Without God to define what is right and what is wrong it is necessary to come up with another standard for morality and so the moral and ethical code for many in our society is summed up in the golden rule: “Don't be like Hitler!” And so Remembrance events are annual reminders of that secular basis for morality.

This, however, makes our sense of good and bad a matter of comparison: “I may not be perfect but I'm not as bad as Hitler”! As the old joke says, if you're in a place with bears you don't have to be able to run faster than the bear, you only have to be able to run faster than your companions! As long as you're not the slowest, you'll survive. And that's the way morality is seen too: as long as I'm not the worst I'm OK. We compare ourselves with others, even those around us, and as long as we are better than they are, we satisfy ourselves that we are good. And even if we've got no-one around us who is worse than us, we are still good because we're not Hitler.

In our second Bible reading (Mark 10:17-27), a man comes up to Jesus to ask a question and calls him “Good Teacher.” “Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone.” In doing so, Jesus was making a point about himself – in calling him 'good' the man recognises that Jesus is divine; but Jesus is also making a point about us – we are not good. Even if we obey a lot of the Ten Commandments like the man had, we are still not good. The man was relying on his good deeds for his salvation, for his reputation of being good, but Jesus reminds him and us that it is impossible for us to be saved, to be good by our own actions.

The problem is our perspective. When we compare ourselves with others we will always find people worse than ourselves: even Hitler thought he was morally better than others – which is why he put so many into death camps. Unlike the Mitchell and Webb comedy sketch, the Nazis didn't look at themselves and ask “Are we the baddies?” - they thought they were the goodies. We may think that morally we are as far away from the Nazis as we are in distance from Australia, but we are looking at it from ground level. Jesus reminds us that the moral standard is God himself – only he is good. And when we compare ourselves with him, we are as far away from him morally as we are in distance from the edge of the universe. And from the edge of the universe, the distance between us and Australia is ultra-microscopically small. Compared with God we are as bad as Hitler.

A film came out last year called “The Zone of Interest” about Auschwitz commandant Rudolf Höss and his wife Hedwig who strive to build a dream life for their family in a house and garden beside the camp. But what makes this film different to other Holocaust movies is that instead of getting us to identify with the victims, it wants to show us our similarities with the perpetrators.

So while Remembrance events are good for reminding ourselves to not be like Hitler, it is Remembrance Sunday that teaches us the most important lesson: peace will never come through human effort. Because all of us share that inner sinfulness that is only a step away from committing the horrors we see in war. We need to be reminded not to be like Hitler because we are like Hitler. The Commandments Jesus doesn't mention in his list are Commandments about putting God first in our lives, and by failing to do that our inhumanity towards humanity will continue. But the good news that introduces the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:2) is that that God saves us not on the basis of our good deeds but on his love for us – which is shown supremely in Jesus' death which takes the punishment for our sins and attributes to us a goodness that we could never achieve ourselves.

Our first reading (Isaiah 2:2-5) tells us that one day those who are willing will learn God's ways and walk in his paths, and that is a good thing to start doing now. But it is only through Jesus that peace will come because he is the good one who will judge between the nations and settle the disputes for many peoples. That is why he is called the Prince of Peace; that is why the peace doves we have here today come out from the cross.

Facing the empty chair

Here's my article for November:

The Prayer Spaces that we'll be running this month in the schools will be themed around 'Remembering' – not specifically on wars and conflicts, but more generally on remembering loved ones and others who have died. One of the activities will be around an empty chair representing the gap that is left in our lives after the death of someone close. The children will have the chance to express a bit of how they feel, and reflect on the good memories, but it also allows for, and affirms, the sad ones.

The grieving process is different for everyone, and there are many rituals and practices that are recommended by different people to aid the process. Some of these are more helpful than others, some are well-intentioned but actually hinder healing. It seems to me that the most unhelpful ones are those that encourage our natural desire to 'hold onto' our loved ones and in some way to deny the reality of death – a desire that Canon Scott-Holland parodies in what has now become the poem “Death is nothing at all.”

It is very common to 'talk to' loved ones who have died, and there is nothing necessarily wrong in doing that. However, if we expect a response from them we turn a cathartic action into one that keeps the wound open. I sometimes stand at the graves of my predecessors and 'ask' them about what's happening in the parishes, but I don't expect them to answer, and nor do I even think they can hear me. I talk to them in the same way I talk to objects – not to communicate with them but just as a sounding board to express my thoughts.

The recent popularity of letterboxes for “Letters to Heaven” is a practice that treads this distinction. Carrying on the habit of sending letters and cards, at least shortly following a death, can be cathartic, but it seems to me that if it is done so as not to let down or disappoint the one who has died, it becomes something that hinders the process of letting go. And for children it might be especially unhelpful if because of a lack of reciprocal cards they think their loved one does not love them any more.

I've written previously of the dangers of mediumship as it opens us up to malevolent spiritual forces beyond our control, but it is also unhelpful because it falsely claims that the dead can communicate with the living.

So what can we do when faced with the empty chair? Recalling memories, both happy and sad, is a very important part of the grieving process, but the aim of the process is to let go – to be grateful for life whilst acknowledging the reality of death. However, our deep desire that life continues after death should point us to the One who offers exactly that: Jesus promises: “Those who believe in me will live, even though they die; and those who live and believe in me will never die.” (John 11:25-26).

Humans, not other animals

Here's my sermon from the Broughton Civic Service 2024.  The readings were Psalm 8 and Luke 12:4-7.

At school, one of my favourite lessons was Latin, and so I'm really enjoying teaching it to my own children. I mention this because we are here at our Civic Service, and the word 'civic' is derived from the Latin word civis which means 'citizen.' And so this reminds us that whenever we talk about 'civic' things we are talking about people; we're not talking about positions or committees, except insofar as they are focused on people. Civic amenities, civic duty and civic authorities are all there to serve the common good; they're there to serve the people. And so at the heart of the Civic Service should be the celebration of the people, their achievements and their good works; as well as a dedication of ourselves to work for the benefit of all members of the community.

But the question this raises is why? Why should those in positions of power use that power for the common good? Why do we feel that with great power comes great responsibility? Indeed why should any of us spend our time and energy doing things for other people? If someone asks for our help, why don't we respond with the phrase that I'm told the young people like to use: “That sounds like a you problem!”?

The reason we do care for others is because we believe that they are worthy of our care because they are fellow human beings. As the Universal Declaration of Human Rights says: all members of the human family have an inherent dignity, and equal and inalienable rights. This dignity and these rights aren't given to us by the UN, or by governments; we don't get them on the basis of our achievements or what we contribute in economic terms; we don't get them only if we're healthy or wanted; from the moment of our conception this dignity and these rights are ours inherently and inalienably: they are ours simply because we are humans.

We believe this because this is what the Bible tells us. Right at the beginning of the Bible we are told that God has made us male and female in his image and likeness. Alone of all the animals and the rest of creation, he has made us in his image and put his breath within us. As our first reading, Psalm 8 says, he has made us a little lower than the angels and crowned us with glory and honour. We are both lesser than the angels and also greater. Not only that, he gives us dominion and responsibility for the rest of creation under his rule. But best of all he cares for us – for each one of us, for each of you; as Jesus says he knows how many hairs are on our heads and cares for us above all the rest of his creation!

And he continues to care for us even when we fail to treat each other as fellow image-bearers; even when we fail to live the way God wants us to; even when we don't believe in him at all. He still cares for us. And he cares for us so much that in Jesus, he became human to share our humanity and to die to take the punishment for all our failures, so that through repentance and faith in Jesus that image of God that we mar through our failures can be restored. So if you want to know how valuable you are, the answer is: you're worth as much as God's own blood!

This vision of humanity as having inherent dignity and inalienable rights only comes to us through the Bible. In no other religion is humanity made in God's image, and in no other religion does God become fully human, and in no other religion does God die to save us. And nor can our human rights be established through scientific investigation or reasoned thinking, because on any rational comparison every human being can be ranked according to size, strength, intellect, popularity, wealth, power etc. etc. therefore we can all be said to be better than others but there is no rational basis for saying that we all have an equal dignity and value. The scientific and rational evidence shows difference and hierarchy not equality and parity.

This is what made the fledgling Christian communities an object of derision to the surrounding Roman culture and society. To the Romans it was ridiculous to think that women were equal to men; that children were as important as adults; that slaves were as valuable as freemen; that barbarians had the same dignity as Roman citizens.

If you believe that all humans, whatever age or ability or status, have an equal dignity and equal rights, but you don't believe in the God of the Bible, you have made a massive leap of faith. Only Jesus can give firm ground for believing that you, me and our fellow human beings are worthy of care and respect.

We are always tempted to return to those pre-Christian beliefs that some people are better and more valuable than others; that some people have less dignity and fewer rights. But today we celebrate and honour all those who instead embrace the biblical values of caring for and working for the good of all people in the community. And we pray that you will come to know and believe in the God who makes sense of that civic duty.

Harvest Sacrifices

Here's my article for the October magazines:

Harvest time often brings back fond memories, including memories of the hymns and songs sung at this time, many of which are well-loved favourites. Although not strictly a harvest hymn, I have fond memories of being in the school choir singing John Rutter's setting of “For the beauty of the earth”, and it's always a sadness when it's sung to a different tune!

The words were written by Folliott S. Pierpoint (great name!) in the spring of 1863 as he sat on a hilltop outside his native city of Bath mesmerized by the beauty of the countryside that surrounded him. As we now sing Pierpoint's words, in response to the wonderful things around us; in nature, in human relationships, and other blessings from God, we raise a joyful or grateful hymn of praise, or in Pierpoint's original lyrics, a sacrifice of praise.

The idea of a sacrifice brings us around again to the harvest theme. Although the Harvest Festival as we know it only developed in the mid nineteenth century, many cultures have rituals around the agricultural year stretching back to the beginnings of human history. A lot of these rituals involved making sacrifices to the deities they thought responsible for the weather and the growth of crops. Sacrifices of food, drink, animals and even humans were made to curry favour with these deities or to appease them when their displeasure was shown through things like adverse weather or crop failure.

The harvest rituals in the Jewish tradition, however, were of a different kind. There was an acknowledgement that “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it” (Psalm 24:1) and therefore “Everything comes from you, and we have given you only what comes from your hand” (1 Chronicles 29:14). We cannot give sacrifices to God because he owns them all already! Instead, the harvest sacrifices were demonstrations of faith and trust in God – they were to give the firstfruits of the crops (Exodus 23:16) trusting God that he would provide the rest of the crop. They weren't to give the surplus or the left-overs but what, at the time it was given, was the only crops they had.

Our Harvest Festivals give us a chance to raise a sacrifice of praise to the God who continues to provide for us through the labours of others and the wonders of creation – not in order to appease or pacify God but in response to his generosity to us. This generosity is seen most of all in Jesus who on the cross offered for all time one sacrifice for sins (Hebrews 10:12) so our sins could be forgiven. The proper response to that generosity is praise, repentance and faith in Jesus.

Tents and eternity

Here my September article:

Many people will have spent time this summer under canvas: whether that's camping holidays, festivals, events with marquees or blanket dens. And for many being under canvas is a happy experience or evokes nostalgic memories of care-free childhoods – though for others it can evoke traumatic memories!! Last month my family and I spent time at a Christian festival, staying for the week in a tent and listening to teaching and worship also under canvas. And so it was rather appropriate that on one of the days we were there, the church recalls the Transfiguration of Jesus.

This episode in Jesus' life is recounted in the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke; and John also alludes to it (John 1:14). Jesus takes Peter, James and John up a mountain to pray and while he was praying he was transfigured: his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Then Moses and Elijah (who had both died hundreds of years previously) appeared and talked to him. Peter said “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters – one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah” (Matthew 17:4). Then the voice of God the Father endorses Jesus and his ministry before everything returns to normal. The Transfiguration was a demonstration of Jesus' divine glory as well as the affirmation by God the Father and the Old Testament scriptures (symbolised by Moses and Elijah) of the mission he'd just revealed (his death and resurrection).

The reason this was appropriate is that the word Peter uses that's translated 'shelter' also means 'tent.' Peter recognised that to be in the presence of the glory of God was a good place and so wanted to stay there. But Jesus knew that the time was not right: they must go down the mountain and head towards Jerusalem where he would fulfil his death-and-resurrection mission.

Holidays can be great times of relaxation, and we often wish we could stay on holiday forever – but we have to come 'back to reality'; back to the responsibilities and demands of normal life. However, that glimpse of peace points us towards that eternal rest that Jesus won for us by his death and resurrection; that existence in the presence of God 'lost in wonder, love and praise.' Christian festivals often give us a foretaste of that 'good place' and so should worship in our local churches. But like the Transfiguration experience for the disciples, we sometimes treat those heavenly experiences in church as shelters to escape from the difficulties of daily life rather than oases to fuel us through the difficult times, whilst reminding us of what we're journeying towards.

So if you're finding life difficult and struggling to see the purpose of it, come to the oasis of church for a foretaste of the eternal life God is inviting you to – but let's also remember that until Jesus comes to take us into his eternal presence we have his work to do down the mountain.

Image by JTD444 from Pixabay

The Opening of the Sixth Seal (Revelation 6:12-17)

Sermon on the Opening of the Sixth Seal

Preached at St Andrew's, Redbourne

31st July 2022

Photo by J.Guffogg & J.Hannan (flickr.com)

Matthew 24:29-39

[Jesus said]

29 “Immediately after the distress of those days

“‘the sun will be darkened,

    and the moon will not give its light;

the stars will fall from the sky,

    and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.’ [Isaiah 13:10; 34:4]

30 “Then will appear the sign of the Son of Man in heaven. And then all the peoples of the earth will mourn when they see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven, with power and great glory. 31 And he will send his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens to the other.

32 “Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near. 33 Even so, when you see all these things, you know that it is near, right at the door. 34 Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. 35 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.

36 “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 37 As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. 38 For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; 39 and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man.”

Revelation 6:12-17

12 I watched as he opened the sixth seal. There was a great earthquake. The sun turned black like sackcloth made of goat hair, the whole moon turned blood red, 13 and the stars in the sky fell to earth, as figs drop from a fig tree when shaken by a strong wind. 14 The heavens receded like a scroll being rolled up, and every mountain and island was removed from its place.

15 Then the kings of the earth, the princes, the generals, the rich, the mighty, and everyone else, both slave and free, hid in caves and among the rocks of the mountains. 16 They called to the mountains and the rocks, “Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who sits on the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb!17 For the great day of their wrath has come, and who can withstand it?”

Sermon

Are you sitting comfortably? Well you might not be at the end of this sermon!  But before we get into the subjects of hell-fire and damnation depicted in our window and the passage it's based, I want to highlight the Gospel reading we had from Matthew 24.  This is Jesus teaching about his second coming.  And the reason I wanted to have this as our first reading is because when the subjects of judgement and hell come up, an objection is often raised that these subjects aren't very Jesus-like: the argument goes that Jesus' major teaching is about love and that a God of love cannot be a God of judgement.

Our passage from Matthew 24 reminds us that Jesus was just as happy teaching about judgement as he was about love, and reading through the rest of the gospels it is arguable that he taught more often about judgement than he did about love.  And it is precisely because he is a God of love that he is also a God of judgement: it is because he loves his creation so much that he cannot bear anything that mars and disfigures it, and that he must punish whatever does.  And top of that list for judgement is humanity, through whom sin has come into the world and spoiled God's perfect creation.  But I'm getting ahead of myself; the important thing to remember for now is that the teaching in Revelation 6 is perfectly consistent with Jesus' own teaching, which in turn is consistent with the teaching in the Old Testament.

So let's now turn to think about our window.

The title is “The Opening of the Sixth Seal” which we can also deduce from the image at the bottom of the window of a lamb with a flag [Fig. 1].  There are seven ribbons hanging down beneath the lamb, the first five have nothing at the end, the seventh has a seal with a cross on it, and the sixth has a broken seal.  But before we can understand what's happening in the window, we need to think about what's happening in the book of Revelation up to this point.

 Figure 1: Photo by Steven Graham (www.in-glass.uk) from Facebook

John, the writer of the book, is having a vision from Jesus in which he is being shown “what is now and what will take place later” (Revelation 1:19).  As part of this he sees the throne room of heaven, which is recorded in Revelation 5.  On the throne he sees God who is holding a scroll with seven seals on it.  This scroll contains God's instructions and judgments and opening it would signal that these instructions are to be carried out.  The seven seals are for each of the seven instructions, with the number seven (like elsewhere in Revelation) symbolising perfection and completeness.  So we need to imagine a scroll with something like wax seals keeping it closed.

And here is where we need to be a bit careful about our language, because this reminds me of my favourite story of theological illiteracy.  You may remember the David Koresh cult in the early 1990s; one of my professors had an academic interest in end-of-the-world cults and spoke to former members for research.  He told the story that in 1993 the FBI laid siege to the Branch Davidians' headquarters at the Mount Carmel Centre in Waco, Texas.  As part of the negotiations during this siege, Koresh told the FBI that they had to stay there until the seven seals were opened, referring of course to Revelation.  However, on hearing this the FBI called in the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, because they thought that some seals were going to be slaughtered!

So just to be clear, today we are talking about wax seals not sea creatures!

But back to Revelation.  God is holding out the scroll with seven wax seals on it and John weeps because there is no-one worthy to open the seals, meaning there is no-one worthy to pass judgment.  Then one of the elders says “Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals” (Revelation 5:5).  So John looks up and sees a Lamb, who had been slain and he takes the scroll, resulting in the song of praise which we said in our opening canticle.

Revelation 6 describes the opening of each of the seals, ending the chapter with our second reading, and our theme: the opening of the sixth seal.  It starts with a dramatic description of the literally earth-shattering events so vividly depicted in the window: the blood-red moon and shattered rocks [Fig. 2];

Figure 2: Photo by Steven Graham (www.in-glass.uk) from Facebook

the darkness with the skies receding, revealing the light of God's presence [Fig. 3]. 

Figure 3: Photo by Steven Graham (www.in-glass.uk) from Facebook

And most dramatically, the reactions of the people, mostly knocked down or cowering. We see a king fallen, with his crown and sceptre rolling away, and a general, upside down with his sword out of reach, and treasures spilled on the floor [Fig. 4].

Figure 4: Photo by J.Guffogg & J.Hannan (flickr.com)

 

So what's going on?  We know from Jesus' words, from the Old Testament passages he's alluding to and from what's happening in the vision that this is a description of judgment, and that the day of judgment will be a day of mourning.  This is because on the Day of Judgement, as God says in Ezekiel “I will judge you according to your conduct and repay you for all your detestable practices” (Ezekiel 7:3).  That is why the people in Revelation 6 cry out for the rocks and mountains to fall on them and hide them from God and his judgment, because as it says in Psalm 130:3 “If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand?”  When we are faced with the holiness of God, we realise our own sinfulness and our inability to live a good life compared with God's standard of goodness.  We realise that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23) and that it doesn't matter if we're rich or poor, powerful or weak, kings or generals, none of our talents or achievements can make up for our sins.

When we realise our sins we also realise the consequences of our sins.  As Jesus said in the parable of the net: “Once again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was let down into the lake and caught all kinds of fish. When it was full, the fishermen pulled it up on the shore. Then they sat down and collected the good fish in baskets, but threw the bad away. This is how it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come and separate the wicked from the righteous and throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth." (Matthew 13:47-50).  And we see this at the bottom right of the window, [Fig. 5] where those who have been judged are falling into the blazing furnace and barely recognisable as human.

 Figure 5: Photo by Steven Graham (www.in-glass.uk) from Facebook

So the question that faces us as we look upon this graphic description and portrayal of the Day of Judgement is the one the people in Revelation 6 and the Psalmist ask: in the face of God's all-knowing judgement, who can stand?

If we turn back to the window there is one figure standing [Fig. 6] almost in the centre of the picture: and he has broken chains hanging from his wrists.

 Figure 6: Photo by Steven Graham (www.in-glass.uk) from Facebook

He probably represents those whose chains of judgment have been broken, i.e. those who have been judged and have been forgiven.  This possibility of redemption could also be suggested by the zig-zag of light in the top right [Fig. 7] which might be lightning splitting the rocks or it could be a path back to the light of the presence of God.

 Figure 7: Photo by Steven Graham (www.in-glass.uk) from Facebook

So how can the chains of judgement be broken; how can we be forgiven; how can we stand in the face of God's judgment?

For the answer to that question we need to turn to Revelation 7, which is still part of the opening of the sixth seal.  In this chapter we hear about more seals (and again not of the sea variety!), and this time they are not sealing up scrolls, but are more like a stamp of ownership and they are on the heads of the servants of God (Revelation 7:3).  John is told that there are 144,000 of them which is symbolic of 12 times 12,000 representing the combining of the Old Covenant (the twelve tribes of Israel) and New Covenant (the Church represented by the twelve apostles).  The whole people of God.  But just as John was told about the Lion of Judah being able to open the scroll and when he looked he saw a Lamb, so he is told about 144,000 people and when he looks he sees “a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands” (Revelation 7:9).  We are told that “they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb” (Revelation 7:14).

So the whiteness of their robes is not because they lived lives of total holiness and purity, because as we've just heard, all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.  But instead their robes have been washed in the blood of the Lamb.  What does this mean?  Well, the background is the story of the Passover in Exodus 12.  God warned that he was going to send a final plague on Egypt, the death of the first-born, but that if the Israelites put the blood of a spotless lamb on their door-posts, the angel of judgment would pass over those houses.  Fast-forward to the New Testament, where Jesus is called the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world (John 1:29) and whose death is seen as the sacrifice necessary for the punishment of sin.  And in Revelation 1:5 Jesus is described as the one who “loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood”  Therefore, those who connect themselves with Jesus' death are 'passed over' on the day of judgment.

How does this happen? On the day of Pentecost Peter quoted the prophet Joel talking about the day of judgement in language reflected in Revelation 6, and said that “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved” (Acts 2:21; Joel 2:32).  And calling on the name of the Lord meant repenting of sins and asking him for the forgiveness that is possible because he has died in our place.

The people facing the opening of the scroll of judgement ask: who can stand?  The answer is those whose sins have been forgiven by their repentance and trust in Jesus' atoning death.

We don't often talk about judgement.  Partly for the correct reason that we should not be pointing out other people's sins.  Jesus tells us “Do not judge, or you too will be judged...Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?” (Matthew 7:1,3).  But mainly because we don't like the idea that one day we will be judged, and we will be found guilty and deserving of eternal punishment.  We can and should warn people of the actions that God himself has told us are sinful, but we should do that in the knowledge that we too are sinful, and just as guilty as they are.

So what do we do when we look on an image such as this window, which depicts very clearly the consequences of the coming judgement?  Do we admire its artistry but dismiss its subject as being a relic of mediæval theology, designed to scare people into submission to church authorities?  Do we celebrate our more enlightened thinking and carry on living for the present with no thought for the future?  Do we hide behind our wealth, our intelligence, our achievements, our popularity, our good works and hope that God won't notice our sins?

Or do we listen to Jesus, who when describing his coming to judge the living and the dead said “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away” (Matthew 24:35)?  He is the firm and steady Rock on whom we can build our lives; he is the Rock in which we can hide so that judgment will pass over us.

Jesus will come again and will judge the living and the dead, and as no-one knows the day or time it may even be today!  If the thought of facing the judgement throne of God today makes you uncomfortable in your seat, then good!  Come to Jesus, the Lamb who was slain, the Rock who was broken; repent and ask him to break the chains of judgment caused by your sin and wash you clean.

Are you a miracle or a maggot?

Here's my article for the August magazine:

For their end of year production this year, the KS2 children at Broughton Primary gave us songs from a number of musicals. Amongst them was one of my favourite recent musicals based on Roald Dahl's book 'Matilda' about an extremely clever girl who is despised by her parents; sent to a school run by the dreadful Miss Trunchbull; befriended by a kind teacher, Miss Honey, and a librarian, Mrs Phelps; and helps her fellow students revolt against the cruel headmistress.

One of the final songs in the musical is called “Revolting Children,” which is sung as the children rebel against Miss Trunchbull. It is a clever pun (one of many in Tim Minchin's lyrics) describing both what they are doing but also Miss Trunchbull's opinion of them and all children (see also the song "The Smell of Rebellion". This opinion is the motivation for her cruelty and is in stark contrast with the joyful opening song that declares that every single life is a miracle. So the children triumphantly sing “Never again will I be bullied, and / Never again will I doubt it when / My mummy says I'm a miracle!”

The opening song, called "Miracle", again has double meanings. The children talk about how special their parents tell them they are, which leads to arrogance in some of the children, and unrealistic expectations in their parents. A party organiser comments “One can hardly move for beauty and brilliance these days. / It seems that there are millions of these one-in-a-millions these days. / Special-ness seems de rigueur. / Above average is average - go figure.”

But then the doctor delivering Matilda sings that “Every life I bring into this world restores my faith in humankind” as every single life is a miracle. This is because “Every life is unbelievably unlikely / The chances of existence / Almost infinitely small” and because “Each new-born life, a canvas yet unpainted.” Although Matilda's parents are disgusted at the thought of her, the doctor tries to convince them saying “A baby Mrs. Wormwood, a child, the most precious gift the natural world can bestow upon us has been handed to you. A brand new human being, a life, a person, a wonderful new person is about to come into your life and bring you love and magic and happiness and wonder.”

Tim Minchin is an outspoken atheist, yet he can't help but describe new life as a miracle, not just because it is unlikely but because of the potential and value of each person. He even has to personify the natural world so that he can describe life as a gift – which his rational, atheist world-view shouldn't really allow. Perhaps we have to describe human life as a miraculous gift because something deep within us sees in it a reflection of God's generosity and love. So don't let your circumstances or other people convince you otherwise: you are a miracle; you are a gift to the world, you have been made in an amazing and wonderful way (Psalm 139:14) – why not find out more about your Creator?