Whenever we buy something, we do a calculation in our heads concerning what it will cost us and what it is worth to us. Different people value things differently. We did a test. We took a look at Picasso’s painting "Nude, Green Leaves and Bust”. The most anyone in St Catherine’s was prepared to pay for it was £200 - a long way short of the $106.5 million that someone else paid for it at auction in 2010!
So, how does God value our financial offerings - be they to a church or to any charitable cause?
Jesus was seated near the Temple treasury, teaching his disciples, while worshippers and tourists made their obligatory financial contributions. He saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins and drew his disciples' attention to it. “This woman has given more than all the others,” he observed. "They gave out of their wealth, but this woman has given all that she had to live on.”
God is not interested in the numerical value of our donations, but is interested in what our offering is worth to us. God doesn’t measure in sterling, euros or dollars, but in love and generosity. When we consider how much to give to a church or charity, it is not enough to look at the numbers; we need to look into our hearts. Often we give just enough to satisfy our conscience. That's not very satisfying. But if we give just enough to put a smile on God's face, we might find that the smile will visit our face too.
Monday, 31 October 2016
Monday, 10 October 2016
Treat yourself - Sunday 9th October 2016
It’s so easy to take life for granted, and once we get into that habit, we start to assume that we have an inalienable right to be healthy, wealthy and happy. How can we prevent ourselves from slipping into that thinking?
When Moses was preparing the Israelites for their new life as peasant farmers in their own land, this was one of the factors that needed to be addressed. His proposal was to establish two points in the year for some deliberate thankfulness. These were not to be solemn occasions in which people were expected to grovel before God saying “I am not worthy.” Not at all. These moments of gratefulness were intended to be indulgent parties. Moses instructed: 'With money secure in hand, go to the place that God will choose; spend the money on whatever you wish - oxen, sheep, wine, strong drink, or whatever you desire. And eat there in the presence of the Lord your God, you and your family rejoicing together.’
In so many Christian communities, the ‘tithe’ (a tenth of one’s income) is used as an intense fund-raising tool, as people are requested to make a substantial donation to their church. The line is: 'God gave you this money, now you must give 10% of it back.’ That is not what Moses was suggesting. Moses, in partnership with God, was calling for a massive and joyous feast. What parent would give their child a sum of money for their birthday, and immediately ask for a tenth of it back? Our heavenly father is not like that. He provides for us and asks that we devote at least a tenth of that provision to treating ourselves. God is not glorified by his people tightening their finances in submission to a religious law. He is glorified when his people loosen their proverbially tight belts and give themselves and each other a treat in his honour.
God is our heavenly father, not our heavenly tax inspector.
Monday, 3 October 2016
So Well Known - Sunday 2nd October 2016
We know more about King David than any other character in the Bible. Not only do we have a wide range of surprisingly honest stories, spanning from his early teens to frail old age, we also have a stack of poems - lyrics to songs - that are reliably attributed to this remarkable man. So we don’t just know what David did, we know how he thought, and how he felt.
Many of David’s psalms reveal the insecurity of power, and show us a powerful man who was constantly looking over his shoulder for fear of attack. But there are other psalms that reveal David, son of Jesse, to be a deep and passionate thinker, attentive to the most fundamental questions of life.
In Psalm 139 David reflects on the experience of knowing, and being known by, God. "You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. Even before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely.” He further contemplates God's inescapable knowledge: "Where can I flee from your presence? If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me.” Then David switches from that wide poetic perspective to one of extreme intimacy: “You knit me together in my mother’s womb. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.”
There have been many occasions in the history of religion when the all-knowing nature of God has been used to frighten people into submission. But David expresses no fear. For him, the eternal presence of God is like a thick duvet on a cold night. God’s presence is the only place that he feels safe and secure.
Jesus, on occasion, was called ‘Son of David’. This can’t have been because Jesus was a warrior or a politician because he did not model himself on those aspects of his famous ancestor. Jesus was the ‘Son of David’ because he too opened people’s eyes to the gently powerful, merciful love of God. To employ the most famous poetic reflection of the young shepherd turned great king: "God is my shepherd. I will lack nothing."
Many of David’s psalms reveal the insecurity of power, and show us a powerful man who was constantly looking over his shoulder for fear of attack. But there are other psalms that reveal David, son of Jesse, to be a deep and passionate thinker, attentive to the most fundamental questions of life.
In Psalm 139 David reflects on the experience of knowing, and being known by, God. "You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. Even before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely.” He further contemplates God's inescapable knowledge: "Where can I flee from your presence? If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me.” Then David switches from that wide poetic perspective to one of extreme intimacy: “You knit me together in my mother’s womb. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.”
There have been many occasions in the history of religion when the all-knowing nature of God has been used to frighten people into submission. But David expresses no fear. For him, the eternal presence of God is like a thick duvet on a cold night. God’s presence is the only place that he feels safe and secure.
Jesus, on occasion, was called ‘Son of David’. This can’t have been because Jesus was a warrior or a politician because he did not model himself on those aspects of his famous ancestor. Jesus was the ‘Son of David’ because he too opened people’s eyes to the gently powerful, merciful love of God. To employ the most famous poetic reflection of the young shepherd turned great king: "God is my shepherd. I will lack nothing."
Monday, 26 September 2016
Depths of Mercy - Sunday 25th September 2016
It feels easy to trust God when things are going well. We lazily assume that they are going well because God loves us and we are pleasing him in the way we are living. But what about when things go badly? What about when things go badly through our own fault? How easily can we trust God then?
Towards the end of his life, King David seriously offended God by conducting a detailed census of Israel’s potential army. Almost as soon as the census was complete, David realised his error: he had failed to trust God, trusting - instead - the strength of his military force. God took action to discipline the ageing king, and demanded that David choose from three proposed punishments. David made his choice immediately. He opted for the third, three days of plague, stating: “Let’s fall into the hand of God, for his mercy is great; but let me not fall into human hands.”
Even though David’s trust in God had evidently become somewhat flakey, he was quick to trust God’s discipline. He did not think of God as being terribly vengeful, but as being essentially merciful. One of the features of David's story is that he was evidently an experienced sinner, and as such, understood more than many people the depths of God’s mercy. If he was going to be punished, David had no doubt that he wanted to be punished by God.
It is when we entrust God with our failures and our disasters that we begin to experience the depth of his mercy. And it is as we begin to experience the depth of God’s mercy that we learn how to show mercy to others.
Towards the end of his life, King David seriously offended God by conducting a detailed census of Israel’s potential army. Almost as soon as the census was complete, David realised his error: he had failed to trust God, trusting - instead - the strength of his military force. God took action to discipline the ageing king, and demanded that David choose from three proposed punishments. David made his choice immediately. He opted for the third, three days of plague, stating: “Let’s fall into the hand of God, for his mercy is great; but let me not fall into human hands.”
Even though David’s trust in God had evidently become somewhat flakey, he was quick to trust God’s discipline. He did not think of God as being terribly vengeful, but as being essentially merciful. One of the features of David's story is that he was evidently an experienced sinner, and as such, understood more than many people the depths of God’s mercy. If he was going to be punished, David had no doubt that he wanted to be punished by God.
It is when we entrust God with our failures and our disasters that we begin to experience the depth of his mercy. And it is as we begin to experience the depth of God’s mercy that we learn how to show mercy to others.
Monday, 19 September 2016
Emotional Dilemmas - Sunday 18th September 2016
Emotions are part of being human. In addition to our intentions, understandings and beliefs we have feelings which can scoop us up and sweep us off in unintended directions. Some emotions are desirable companions: joy, laughter and love. Others are unwelcome guests: sadness, anger and grief.
After King David was driven into exile by his son, Absalom, the only way he could return to his home was if Absalom was defeated. Before the inevitable battle, David pleaded with his generals to be gentle with the young man. The generals ignored the king’s request. Absalom was dispatched; David’s reign was restored, but his son was dead.
David collapsed into searing grief. It is perhaps not a surprise, as he was a poet, that his grief was hauntingly poetic: “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would that I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!”
It was good for David to express his grief. Grief needs to be expressed. But there was a problem. Because David was grieving loudly and publicly, his victorious troops were sneaking back to the city like defeated men. The chief general, Joab, gave David a stiff talking to, the gist of which was: ‘If you don’t get your act together and show some appreciation for your soldiers, you will lose your kingdom a second time.’
Emotions are great asset to human society, but they can also be a challenge. Their great power can be a force for either good or ill. Some people are emotionally manipulative; others are emotionally repressed.
David needed to express is grief. He also needed to pull himself together and do his job. We all face such moments. The best guide in the emotional jungle is, love. Jesus’ advice is hard to beat: “Treat others as you would have them treat you."
After King David was driven into exile by his son, Absalom, the only way he could return to his home was if Absalom was defeated. Before the inevitable battle, David pleaded with his generals to be gentle with the young man. The generals ignored the king’s request. Absalom was dispatched; David’s reign was restored, but his son was dead.
David collapsed into searing grief. It is perhaps not a surprise, as he was a poet, that his grief was hauntingly poetic: “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would that I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!”
It was good for David to express his grief. Grief needs to be expressed. But there was a problem. Because David was grieving loudly and publicly, his victorious troops were sneaking back to the city like defeated men. The chief general, Joab, gave David a stiff talking to, the gist of which was: ‘If you don’t get your act together and show some appreciation for your soldiers, you will lose your kingdom a second time.’
Emotions are great asset to human society, but they can also be a challenge. Their great power can be a force for either good or ill. Some people are emotionally manipulative; others are emotionally repressed.
David needed to express is grief. He also needed to pull himself together and do his job. We all face such moments. The best guide in the emotional jungle is, love. Jesus’ advice is hard to beat: “Treat others as you would have them treat you."
Monday, 12 September 2016
When things go wrong - Sunday 11th September 2016
Things go wrong. Occasionally they go horribly wrong. The news is filled with such moments, but we don’t need to look that far. In our own lives, something goes wrong most days. The question is: what happens next?
Do you dissolve into tears or flare into anger? Do you look for someone to blame, or blame yourself? When things go wrong we experience an urgent need to respond somehow.
When King David was well settled into middle age, things went horribly wrong for him. His son, Absalom, usurped his kingdom, causing him to dash into exile. As David hurried away from Jerusalem, his life’s work in tatters, he was followed by an old enemy, called Shemei, who threw stones and curses at him in equal measure. One of David’s generals offered to kill the man. David was indignant at the suggestion. “It may be,” he replied, “that God has told Shemei to curse me.”
In the middle of intense disaster, David was trying to discern what God was doing in the situation. Perhaps God had raised up Absalom. Perhaps David had had his time. Perhaps Shimei was right to curse him. On the other hand: perhaps God would restore David to his throne, and repay him with good for the cursing he was receiving. David needed time to answer those questions.
Ancient European religion believed there were two sets of equally matched spiritual forces in the world: good and evil; life and death; light and darkness. Much of that primitive thinking has seeped its way into Christianity. King David, however, had no such thoughts. For him there was only one significant spiritual force: God. And he had learned to trust God when things went badly just as much as when things went well.
Christians often assume that nice things come from God, and nasty things come from sin or the devil. That is far too simplistic. When things go horribly wrong - and they inevitably will at times - we would do well to follow David’s example: trust God, and pause to consider what he might be doing.
Do you dissolve into tears or flare into anger? Do you look for someone to blame, or blame yourself? When things go wrong we experience an urgent need to respond somehow.
When King David was well settled into middle age, things went horribly wrong for him. His son, Absalom, usurped his kingdom, causing him to dash into exile. As David hurried away from Jerusalem, his life’s work in tatters, he was followed by an old enemy, called Shemei, who threw stones and curses at him in equal measure. One of David’s generals offered to kill the man. David was indignant at the suggestion. “It may be,” he replied, “that God has told Shemei to curse me.”
In the middle of intense disaster, David was trying to discern what God was doing in the situation. Perhaps God had raised up Absalom. Perhaps David had had his time. Perhaps Shimei was right to curse him. On the other hand: perhaps God would restore David to his throne, and repay him with good for the cursing he was receiving. David needed time to answer those questions.
Ancient European religion believed there were two sets of equally matched spiritual forces in the world: good and evil; life and death; light and darkness. Much of that primitive thinking has seeped its way into Christianity. King David, however, had no such thoughts. For him there was only one significant spiritual force: God. And he had learned to trust God when things went badly just as much as when things went well.
Christians often assume that nice things come from God, and nasty things come from sin or the devil. That is far too simplistic. When things go horribly wrong - and they inevitably will at times - we would do well to follow David’s example: trust God, and pause to consider what he might be doing.
Monday, 5 September 2016
Failure & Potential - Sunday 4th September 2016
David, Israel’s greatest king, the writer of psalms, ‘man after God’s heart’, revered as a prophet…saw a beautiful woman - Bathsheba - taking a bath, learned she was married, invited her to his bed, made her pregnant, fell in love with her, and killed her husband so he could marry her.
That would bring a sudden end to most people’s careers, whether or not they were a political or religious leader (David was both).
God moved swiftly. David’s multiple crime was uncovered, and severe punishment detailed.
It is here that the story takes a surprising turn. David apologised, quickly and unreservedly. God, equally quickly and unreservedly, forgave him. David continued to be Israel’s greatest king, a writer of psalms, a man after God’s heart, and revered as a prophet.
And there’s more: David’s relationship with Bathsheba was accepted and blessed by God. The child of their adultery died, but their second son - Solomon - went on to be Israel’s next greatest king, and was the ancestor of Jesus.
When God forgives, he forgives totally, because he values our strengths above our weaknesses, our potential above our lapses, our achievements above our failures. God knows that we sometimes sink to dismal depths, but he also knows that we can rise to soaring heights. He doesn’t want our failings to get in the way of our potential.
That would bring a sudden end to most people’s careers, whether or not they were a political or religious leader (David was both).
God moved swiftly. David’s multiple crime was uncovered, and severe punishment detailed.
It is here that the story takes a surprising turn. David apologised, quickly and unreservedly. God, equally quickly and unreservedly, forgave him. David continued to be Israel’s greatest king, a writer of psalms, a man after God’s heart, and revered as a prophet.
And there’s more: David’s relationship with Bathsheba was accepted and blessed by God. The child of their adultery died, but their second son - Solomon - went on to be Israel’s next greatest king, and was the ancestor of Jesus.
When God forgives, he forgives totally, because he values our strengths above our weaknesses, our potential above our lapses, our achievements above our failures. God knows that we sometimes sink to dismal depths, but he also knows that we can rise to soaring heights. He doesn’t want our failings to get in the way of our potential.
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