A new blog

The experiment of recording sermons and making them available online was well-received in the first half of 2006, but you'll have noticed that things have been quiet ever since.

When we relocated our worship in the summer for the refurbishment of the church, we were no longer able to record the sermons as easily.

Another issue is that not all of our preachers use a full text. Those of us who sometimes do, often don't. So we were in the position of producing transcripts or full notes after the sermon, for the relatively small audience who read this blog.

In the last couple of weeks, we've set up a new blog at http://stpaulsoadby.blogspot.com

This is much more of a general blog, than one restricted to sermons, and I hope it will reach a wider audience. We may go back to recording sermons at some point, but if we do, they'll be on the new blog and not here.

Thanks for listening!

Closing the loops

Sermon preached at St Paul's Church, Oadby
Sunday 23 July 2006
Simon Harvey



There is no audio recording of this sermon, but the text is shown below.

Jesus is more interested in you than you are in him. This stupendous fact emerges from the gospels. Yet we dismiss the idea that we have anything to offer Jesus, other than praise, thanksgiving and confession of sin. Don’t we realise that he truly is the Good Shepherd, more interested in sheep than his own prestige and comfort?

The bible readings used in this sermon are Jeremiah 23.1-6 and Mark 6.30-34, 53-56

Introduction

The following is written as a feature article or essay, to try to develop a narrative for the sermon, which I preached without notes.



“How are you doing?”
“How’s it all going?”
“Is everything okay?”
Familiar, everyday questions. I wonder who asks you those kind of questions. Many of us are asked questions like these everyday of our lives, so often that they are pretty meaningless. We’re used to answering them with a single word or something bland and broadly positive. “Fine.” “Not bad.” “Alright.” “Can’t complain.” “Pretty good.”
I don’t know what it’s like where you work, but I’ve discovered that the clergy of the Church of England are especially bad at this. It’s probably to do with the sense of insecurity and inadequacy that many leaders of churches feel. Put a group of clergy in the bar at the Swanwick conference centre during the bi-annual diocesan conference and when everyone’s settled down with a drink, the conversation goes something like this:
“Hi, I’m John. Sorry, I don’t remember your name,”
“Hi, I’m Bill.”
“Hi. Where you from, Bill?”
“Ambridge. You?”
“Emmerdale.”
“Oh. Nice place, Ambridge. How are things going?”
“Fine. And Emmerdale, what are things like there?”
“Fine.”

Fine! What Bill means is that down at Ambridge the parish treasurer has run off with half the money, the children’s worker is having an affair with the organist and the tower is about to fall down. And when John says that things are fine at Ambridge, he really means that the PCC have just given him an ultimatum that he’s got to leave by Christmas and his wife’s told him she’s going to have the curate’s baby!

Now may be after two or three drinks, John and Bill might begin to tell each other how it really is. But if the Bishop asks if he can join them, you know what’s going to happen. “How’s it going?” “Fine!”


When people ask you how things are going, how honest are you?
And let’s face it, people aren’t always interested to know how things are with you. They’ve got their own problems and concerns. They’re busy people too; they don’t really want to know the details of your life.

The irony of this is that we live in an age in which lives are more disconnected and dislocated than ever before. Just think that in all previous generations, life was lived with the same group of people to a much greater extent. There was still some mobility, but within a lifetime we have moved from a situation where it was quite common for someone to live and work in the same small settlement all their lives. People would work at the same place as some of their school friends. People would socialise several times a week with friends and acquaintances who they would see in the shops, down the pub, on the allotment, in the office or factory.
Life used to be far more socially connected, even if it was restricted in terms of mobility and opportunity. Human beings have evolved and were created for this intimacy and connectedness.

The irony of the development of our modern technology – post, transport, telephones, mobiles, email, and instant messaging services – is that more and more we can connect to everyone, but that we have less to talk about. The mobility we have, which allows us to connect across wider distances also let’s us live more separately. Because we share so little of our lives, it’s hard to answer the question, “how’s it going?” without having to give a long and complicated answer, setting things in context. We say, “keep in touch” but deep down we know that there will be little to say when we do.

Churches which have a thriving fellowship, in which people meet and talk after the service, catching up with each other are deeply counter-cultural. It’s wonderful to see people of all ages and from different backgrounds enjoying each other after church.

But even here we are restricted. Who do you share the joys and sorrows of daily living with?

Our work used to offer us a staff canteen for a shared lunch, or at least somewhere to sit for a while. Now people are munching a sandwich over a keyboard. We used to have tea-breaks, or a drink after work. Now it’s only smokers who spend a few minutes away from their desk.

In the pre-industrial age, people found natural opportunities to tell each other how things were going. The craftsman’s workshop would see people dropping by. The labourers in the fields would spend all day in the company of others. The homeworkers would go about their work with children, older relatives and neighbours all close by.

In the first two centuries of the industrial revolution, crowded, mechanised factories and mines were unpleasant in many ways but they did allow for the sharing of experience.

These days, the small number of people we share our homes with have to bear nearly all the burden of encouragement and support through the demands of daily life. If you want more, you’ve got to pay for a life-coach or therapist.

I don’t think that it’s incidental that when the divine community of the Holy Trinity created the heavens and earth, we read that each day God stopped, looked and said, “it is good”. There’s something real and necessary about celebrating achievements together, and then resolving together to do the next thing.
What sorrow and loneliness, what isolation and depression, could be spared if more people were able to experience this kind of relationship?

“The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”
From the perspective of our modern context, these are remarkable words. Perhaps previous generations of Christians found nothing unusual in the idea that the disciples returning from their unsupervised ministries, should gather around Jesus and tell him all that they had done and taught. But look from within the experience of twenty-first century discipleship and the implications are surprising.


This small community of Jesus and his followers are the proto-church, the first primitive movement of Christians. But this glimpse into their shared life feels quite alien to the assumptions we bring to church.

The gathering of the apostles around Jesus is, by definition, a re-gathering of sent ministers. (An apostle is essentially someone who has been sent out, entrusted with a responsibility to go out into the world.) So far, so good. We regularly gather in the name of Jesus and meet with him in our churches. And in our gatherings too, we are often the ones doing the speaking – rightly declaring God’s praises and expressing ourselves in worship.

But the thing that catches my attention is that Jesus is listening here to an account of the apostles’ activity. In this passage they are describing the experience of living out their vocation. They have been commissioned by Jesus, now they are giving account. And we can imagine that they have had mixed experiences. There will have been occasions of great joy to recall – times when opportunities have arisen and good, fruitful ministry has happened. There will also have been times of frustration and discouragement, where hoped-for outcomes haven’t come about.
If we use our imaginations, what kind of conversation do we think took place? How excited were those apostles, discovering what God was doing through them? How encouraging was Jesus? How inspiring and positive was it to share even times of doubt and difficulty with Jesus? To have him ask, “how did it go?” and then listen attentively to all that you did.

Why do we find it so hard to believe that this same Jesus might be interested in our experiences of discipleship, of mission and ministry, or just of everyday living? Is it because we learned at a young age that what we say to God should never be a real conversation? Are our prayers trapped in the formula of “thank-you, sorry, please”?
Could it really be true that part of discipleship is not only to know our vocation to live for Jesus but also to know the privelege of conversation about how it really is?

Jesus is more interested in you than you are in him. This stupendous fact emerges from the gospels. Yet we dismiss the idea that we have anything to offer Jesus, other than praise, thanksgiving and confession of sin. Don’t we realise that he truly is the Good Shepherd, more interested in sheep than his own prestige and comfort?

Jesus really is more interested in you than you are in him. Or do you really believe that your capacity for devotion is greater than his?



Our churches have often been describe as ‘come’ structures. That is, they emphasise gathering and welcome and passivity. There’s a lot of truth in that and in recent decades the church has rediscovered the vital role of all the baptised in ministry and living for the kingdom. We have rightly been asked to emphasise the ‘go’ of vocation, blessing and dismissal from the gathering in order to live for God, seven days a week.

But ‘come’ and ‘go’ discipleship is too individualistic and disconnected to do justice to the biblical model. Left at this, what do we do with the sense of joy or the feelings of struggle that discipleship bring? We need to be able to do the very thing that Jesus provided for his apostles – gathering with him to tell all that we have done.

Home groups and prayer triplets are great ways to talk and listen with each other about how things are really going. Regularly meeting with someone you trust and simply telling it as it is, then taking that into prayer is priceless. If Jesus did it with his friends, what makes us think we can go without?

And in our own personal praying, we need to allow some opportunity for conversation with Jesus. Tell him regularly how things are going. It will feel really odd to begin with if you’ve never done it before, but just begin by knowing he’s interested in you. He’s asking, “how’s it going?”

I think of all this as ‘closing the loops’. It’s about closing the loop and feeding back the experience of living into our personal and shared relationship with God. It’s about regularly re-connecting with the one who’s more interested in you than you are in him. It’s about being an encouragement to one another, giving someone else the precious gift of your undivided attention. It’s about knowing the support of a community of fellowship and commitment.

Who can touch Jesus?

Sermon preached at St Paul's Church, Oadby
Sunday 2 July 2006
Simon Harvey



There is no audio recording of this sermon, but the text is shown below.

I don’t really care whether you come to church every week. I really care that you meet Jesus often. I really care that you’re getting to know Jesus more and more. I really care that you notice yourself becoming more Christ-like in your character. I really care that you feel the character of Jesus filling you more and more and enabling you to lead a flourishing and fruitful life.

The bible readings used in this sermon are Lamentations 3.22-33 and Mark 5.21-43.

Introduction

Last Sunday, I preached a sermon based on Mark 4:35-41. Jesus asked his disciples to take him away from the comfort and safety of a successful day’s ministry across the lake on a boat. When a fierce storm blew, they thought they would drown. But Jesus woke and settled the storm with a word of command.
We reflected on how the church has been compared to a boat. But boats come in all shapes and sizes; churches are vessels with a purpose – like lifeboats. Lifeboat exists to sail in stormy seas. Their whole reason for existing is to be ready for action, available for mission to others in need as soon as they are called upon. Likewise, the church primarily exists for mission to the world, not for the comfort of those who belong.
This week, we’ll explore further just how Jesus worked with his early followers. They were close enough to him to discover his character and purpose. If we are challenged to do the same, can we draw inspiration and hope from the example of Jesus?

Sermon:




Have you ever set out on a journey not really know where it would lead?
Last week, I preached a sermon about the disciples response to Jesus’ call to set sail across the lake. And I told you that I feel that God may be calling us to ‘slip the moorings’, and set sail with him in a more deliberate and purposeful way. I had a lot of positive reaction to the sermon. It encourages me that God is saying the same things to many of you as he is to me. Vicars don’t have a monopoly on access to God’s vision for a church, so it’s a great help to me as your vicar, to learn what God is saying to you as well.
One person came to me at the end of the service last week and told me that they felt just as strongly that God was calling us to push the boat out, so to speak. But they wanted to challenge me. Where to? Where are we sailing towards? What direction is God calling our church to sail in?
They’ve got a point. I don’t believe that God reveals exact destinations for every mission. Sometimes he wants to just set a general direction. But there is always a direction. The early church and the apostles didn’t wander aimlessly, they sensed God calling them to something more specific than just ‘mission by hanging around’. This week, I’ve spent more time listening and reflecting on all of this and I believe I can offer us some general headings about the direction in which God might want us to travel.
Happily, today’s gospel reading takes us into exactly the area that I want us to explore. I want us to look carefully at the passage from Mark’s gospel this morning, in a sermon that I’ve called “Who can touch Jesus?”
Remember that the disciples following Jesus had committed themselves to walk with him – they’d left their jobs as fishermen, tax-collectors and so on. But they were still discovering who Jesus was and is. And Mark’s gospel was written for the whole Jesus Movement – the great tide of Jesus’ later followers that became the Church. It’s for us too, helping us to trace the direction in which God wants us to set sail as a local church community, and to make ourselves available for the mission God has for us at St Paul’s.
Coming to church or meeting Jesus?
I don’t want people to come to church! I really want people to meet Jesus. I want them to become like Jesus.
One of the slightly odd things about being a vicar is that people see you as representing the church. Wearing a ‘dog-collar’ gives people opportunity to tell you all sorts of things. But these things are mainly about church.
I get people coming up to me and explaining why they’ve not been to church lately. Or quite often, people will tell me that they’re going to come to church. Do you know what? I’m not that interested in excuses or promises about coming to church. I don’t really care whether you come to church or not!
Listen carefully… I don’t really care whether you come to church every week. I really care that you meet Jesus often. I really care that you’re getting to know Jesus more and more. I really care that you notice yourself becoming more Christ-like in your character. I really care that you feel the character of Jesus filling you more and more and enabling you to lead a flourishing and fruitful life.
Yes, I want you to come to church, because in church we give each other the best chance of meeting Jesus, getting to know Jesus, growing more Christ-like in character. But it’s not my ‘bottom line’. To use last week’s analogy – the mission matters more than the vessel. If we put the vessel (our church) first, we build a ship for ourselves and compromise its mission. If we put the mission first, we focus on making everything serve God’s primary purpose.
This brings me to the crucial ‘why’ question: Why do I care so much that we should get to meet Jesus, to know Jesus, to become like Jesus? Answer: Because that’s what Jesus wants.
Jesus told his disciples that he would build his church. But he asked his followers to “go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that he commanded.” They were to focus on the mission. As they faithfully fulfilled this commission, Jesus’ built his church.
But at the time of our gospel reading, all that was a long way in the future. In Mark chapter 5, Jesus and his disciples have returned back across the lake again and they immediately find themselves in the mission field. Here we have a picture of the small community of Jesus going about its business. The mission seems to be going really well today; there are crowds everywhere.
A woman’s touch
And as the crowds press in on Jesus, so close that he’s being squashed on every side, a woman pushes herself through. We don’t know her name. We just know how desperate she is to meet Jesus. For over twelve years, she’s been bleeding. Her monthly period had become a permanent and painful haemmorhage. She’d spent everything she’d had on doctors but with no cure. They’d just preyed on her vulnerability and her desperation and ripped her off. We can glimspe just how bad things were for this woman when we remember that in Jewish teaching, she was considered permanently impure and anyone and anything she touched would be considered defiled. At this time, the strict purity code of Leviticus, which was later abolished in the new church of Jesus, was still in effect:
“If a woman has a discharge of blood for many days, not at the time of her period, or if she has a discharge beyond the time of her period, all the days of the discharge she shall continue in impurity.”
Can you imagine how ostracised this poor woman felt? Not only was she seriously unwell, but she was also effectively excluded from society. She wasn’t allowed to touch anyone, or to sit where someone else may sit.
But today she breaks all the rules, pushing herself through the crowds. If she can only touch Jesus, or even the hem of his robe, she knows she will be healed. And in that moment, with noise and commotion and everything else, she manages to touch Jesus. Mark tells us that immediately the bleeding stopped. Immediately, she felt in her body, in the very depths of herself that she was well. We can dress this up in spiritual language, but here is a woman who knows the inner healing touch of Jesus in the most intimate and physical way.
And it’s not only the woman feels the power of that touch…
Mark tells us Jesus stopped still and looked for the person who touched him. I can imagine Jesus stopping, his eyes wide open, holding his breath. Who has touched him with such desperate longing? Who has been seeking him so sincerely? And in a remarkable moment which discloses the character of Jesus, we have this Christ and Saviour- we have God, asking a question. “Who has touched me? Who is it that seeks me? Who wants me that much?”
And the woman falls to her knees trembling and tells him everything- the ‘whole truth’. Did she expect to get told off? The crowd must have been outraged to hear that she, a ritually-unclean woman, dared to touch Jesus. Yet Jesus calls her ‘daughter’, the tenderest of names. “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace. You are saved and healed.”
Seeking the seekers
It matters so much to Jesus, to know who seeks him. Do you know, in our day many people are seeking? They may not even know they want Jesus, but they know their lives need something. On two or three Sundays in the year, Parklands Leisure Centre is the venue for a Mind Body and Spirit Fair. In our Oadby pubs, there are Psychic Evenings. Our bookshops are full of self-help and lifestyle titles, many aimed at giving people a life worth living. A lot of people in our world are satisfied and fairly comfortable with their lives. But a few are looking, searching for a way to a more significant life, for acceptance, for an answer to haunting loneliness, for healing, or for hope. I think we can get better at ‘seeking the seekers’. And I think if Jesus were with us as physically as he was with his first disciples, he’d want us to help find the people who are trying to find him. He’d be with them, talking to them, listening to them, getting to know them, so that they can get to know him. Being sensitive to them, without compromising his mission.
I have a hunch that if Jesus came to visit us this week, what sort of guided tour would he want? I reckon he’d be less interested in our buildings or in our bookshelves or in all our paperwork. He’d ask us where he could find the people who are seeking him in these streets.
To use last week’s lifelboat analogy, it’s about how well we keep look-out. Do we look in life’s stormy seas for those who are longing for Jesus? And how do we respond?
I think there’s a huge agenda for us here. Which people in our church fellowship are the really good look-outs? Where do we find people seeking Jesus – in church on Sunday? in Coffee Pot? in our street? where we work? in our neighbourhood?
A really key lesson for us to learn here is the importance of the individual person. Time and again, Jesus interrupts his ministry for just one person. He did it on the day Mark wrote about. It makes me wonder - how willing am I to stop what I’m doing to meet the one person who wants to get close to Jesus on their own terms? How willing are we?
I think we must change some of our thinking. Most of the administration and management issues in our church come from the events and activities that we run. And they’re good. But we can easily slide into the habit of planning and providing events and activities and overlooking people. I think we need to make some adjustment here. To be person-centred in our evangelism, in our childrens’ work, in our home groups, in our social gatherings.
I want us to be doing a new evangelism course this autumn – providing opportunities for people to meet Jesus and get to know him a little. But I’ll want us to change the way we do it – being much more responsive to people’s needs and questions. To do mission Jesus’ way.
That’s my first response to the question about the direction where I think God is calling us to go. To adopt the people-centred mission approach of Jesus and to seek the seekers around us.




(There was too much for me to prepare for a Sunday sermon, so I’ve continued my thoughts below in ‘Part Two’).
Part Two (the bit that didn’t get preached)
The crushing power of negative expectations
When I read the gospels, I can’t help noticing the mistakes the disciples make. Spotting other people’s mistakes isn’t a very nice habit, but I guess that God wants us to notice how often the disciples mess things up, so that we can learn from their mistakes.
And what I notice about the disciples in today’s reading is just how negative their expectations are!
I get the impression that the disciples think they should be a bit like bouncers, trying to keep people at arms length from Jesus. I just get the impression that they saw problems where Jesus saw opportunities.
Take our story for example. When the miraculous healing occurs and Jesus looks around and asks who touched him, the disciples think he’s being stupid. “Can’t you see the crowd, Jesus? They’re pressing in on every side, and you say, ‘who touched me?’”. Now you’d think by now the disciples would be just a little prepared to allow for the fact that this Jesus is no ordinary person. He’s just silenced a storm with a word, for goodness’s sake!
Yet the disciples still seem to have low expectations. Their whole contribution to this wonderful episode in Jesus’ ministry is to doubt him. What brilliant assistants they are!
Now we wouldn’t be half as bad as that, would we? Well, I’d like to think not. But I confess that sometimes, a little negativity creeps in to my expectations.
After all, this is the Church of England. I love our Church of England, I really do. But boy do we make life hard! It’s easy to get a little fed up on occasions, if not a little skeptical. And it’s also possible to get a little impatient with the seemingly scarce opportunities for mission. It sometimes looks quite hard to think of ways of encouraging new faith in new people. “People here are quite happy.” “My neighbours believe in a different God.” “We don’t know where to begin.” “We’re just too busy.” “We don’t have the resources.”
Take comfort – this is just the sort of way the disciples thought. But I don’t think this is the way that God looks at us and our situation. God wants to lift us and encourage us about all the possibilities – so that we can see that today is one of the most exciting times to be a Christian.
I’m intrigued. Exactly how did Jesus transform his unhelpful disciples into powerful apostles, who did amazing things for him and became like him in their very character?
Before we go on to that, I want to acknowledge the wonderful witness to Christian living that I’ve found here at St Paul’s. Just this last week, I’ve been talking with members of our church who are desperately overworked in their employment. With people who are anxious for elderly relatives who are getting to unwell to look after themselves. With people who are facing redundancy. And yet in these difficulties, they know the sustaining power of God.
We can recognise three key ways that Jesus transformed his disciples, which are just as relevant for us at St Paul’s:
1. The first is through discipleship. Those months of walking the dusty roads of Galilee and Judea with Jesus were literally about discipleship – being followers. Through exciting and successful times, through hardship and through quiet times, just being with Jesus enabled the disciples to glimpse the character of God.
We too are called to be disciples. And for us too, one of the most important ways of knowing the transforming power of God is to spend time with Jesus. Read the bible – especially read the gospels. What would your knowledge of Jesus’ character look like if you spent ten minutes a day reading a gospel passage? We have daily prayer in our parish if you want to read and pray with others. But this is something you can do on your own. Pray often. The bible tells us that when we pray, Jesus intercedes for us. That means Jesus acts as the go-between between us and God the Father. When you pray, you can’t help getting close to Jesus.
2. The second way the disciples were transformed was through making a great commitment to Jesus’ great commission. When Jesus called his disciples, he wasn’t just asking them for an hour-on-a-Sunday hobby. He set before them a demanding task, something that would require courage and commitment and faithfulness.
I suspect that we’re a little too nervous of asking for commitment in our day. We live in such an easy, convernient, on-demand society that the concept of asking people to make a costly, sacrificial commitment of themselves feels a little too pushy. But pretending the gospel doesn’t make demands isn’t helpful. We’re not here to help people enjoy the hobby of church-going. We’re here to help people find the true purpose for their lives and to live out that purpose. We’re hear to know and respond to the needs of the poor in this world.
I feel nervous about asking people for commitment but I feel God is calling us to be a little bolder about doing so.
3. The third way that Jesus’ disciples were transformed from frail followers to powerful apostles was through the gift of God’s Holy Spirit. After Pentecost, everything changed. The book of Acts races is a breathless tour of the early church. From Jerusalem to the edges of the known world, God was doing amazing things through very ordinary people like you and me. It was the positive power and energy and inspiration of the Holy Spirit that made all the difference.
Some people feel nervous about the idea of the Holy Spirit. Previous experiences of ‘charismatic worship’ have left a number of our church members feeling a little wary. We should remember that not all of us experience the supernatural spiritual gifts and the bible stresses that the work of the Spirit is the edification or up-building of the whole church, not a minority interest.
But experiencing the touch of God during public worship and in private prayer is not just for a few Christians. It’s for all of us. I believe we should expect more of our worship together and pray for richer encounters with God.
So to a few practical thoughts. I wonder how we can grow our home-groups, so that they can be even more effective in encouraging growth in our personal discipleship. Perhaps we should think of them as growth-groups. Perhaps we should link our Sunday services and sermons with the material used in small groups. I hope many of our church will want to enrol on the new Certificate in Christian Discipleship course which begins in September. I hope more people will feel enabled and equipped to commit to tasks that God has called them to.

So my second response to the question about the direction where I think God is calling us to go is related to our growth in maturity as God’s people. It’s about our transformation to Christ-likeness through getting close to Jesus in study and prayer, through making big commitments to the tasks God gives us and through rich encounters with God in worship.

Jesus, the stiller of storms

Sermon preached at St Paul's Church, Oadby
Sunday 25 June 2006
Simon Harvey



There is no audio recording of this sermon, but the text is shown below.

I believe that Jesus’ call to the disciples to push out from the shore, to set sail into less certain waters, is especially relevant to our church right now. I believe that God is calling us to be more mission-minded, more outward-looking, more deliberate and purposeful in the business of evangelism and more serious about living our lives more and more as mature and committed followers of Jesus.

The bible readings used in this sermon are Job 38.1-11 and Mark 5.35-41
.

Let me tell you a little modern parable and see if you spot any connections…

They tell a story, of a remote part of the Newfoundland Coast; a treacherous rocky shore on which many ships have been wrecked. Many souls have been lost in those icy seas.
A small and dedicated band of men decided to station a small rescue boat inside one of the narrow inlets. And they kept watch for ships in distress. The small lifeboat was nothing special – it was anything but comfortable –just big enough to stay afloat in the heavy seas. The first night the lifeboat was called upon it for real action, it went back and forth to a stricken vessel, bringing half-drowned sailors to safety on the shore. And that wasn’t the last time either. The crew were few in number, but what they lacked in manpower and equipment, they made up for in bravery and courage. They simply lived to serve and save others.
After a while though, some improvements were suggested. A bigger boat could accommodate people more easily. So one was ordered. It was a little heavier to steer, but it was still quite effective. The lifeboat crew had grown in number and, between rescue operations, they enjoyed each other’s company and tended to their vessel.
In the long evenings, the crew would gather at the lifeboat and talk, play cards and sing. It became a real place of friendship. Later they made more improvements – electric light, comfortable seats, cupboards for provisions. These made it only slightly harder to set sail in an emergency.
Over the months and years, more people found their way into the company of the lifeboat. People came down to join the crew – people who didn’t ever want to set sail into the icy waters themselves. A replacement boat was ordered – one which could accommodate the whole lifeboat community. A toilet was fitted. A cooker was installed. Beds were made so that people could stay overnight. The well-stocked bar was very popular. The big lifeboat could still go out to rescue sailors in peril, but somehow, the people inside didn’t seem to look out as often as they used to.
No one quite remembers the day when the lifeboat became a houseboat. It didn’t seem so much of a big deal at the time. A permanent gangway made access much easier. Heavy mooring ropes kept the boat safe and secure, even if they made a quick launch impossible. Permanent electrical wiring was much more convenient than using the little on-board generator. A solid roof and curtains at the windows shut out the noise of the wind when the gales blew and the heaters kept the inside snug and warm even in the fiercest storm. It was still called a lifeboat, of course. But no one could quite remember the last time the boat set sail.
Now all along that coast, the same thing happened. Today there are lots of comfortable houseboats, some are full, most are half-empty. But there are no real lifeboats to set sail. No boats to set out and find those in distress. no one keeping lookout to seek the lost.

What a tragedy! How could people allow it? Vessels originally designed to set sail into stormy seas to rescue the those calling for help no longer used for their true purpose?
The parallel of course, is for us to work out. The metaphor isn’t a perfect one, but the church is a kind of lifeboat, isn’t it? You’ve got seats in God’s ship. And this is a ship with a purpose; she wasn’t built as a houseboat. Of course, through this ship, the work of saving the lost is God’s work. But we, the church, are called to do our part too. To be available at a moment’s notice, ready to go. What a mission!
Incidentally, the part of the church building you’re sitting in is the nave. It’s the word for ship. (Navis. Navy).
Sadly, many church communities have allowed themselves to settle for a less demanding mission. There’s always the temptation to turn our attention inward, to focus on getting our little ship just the way we like it. To become a comfortable houseboat, safely moored in quiet waters. To neglect the distress calls outside. I wrote a letter for the parish magazine this month which relates to this and I’ve received a lot of encouraging feedback. (more copies for St Paul’s people). My basic point is that church has a purpose – a mission purpose – beyond making us feel better about ourselves. Being part of a Spirit-led church, available for mission, sometimes means that the Christian community is a demanding place to be, not just a club tailor–made for my needs.

It’s thrilling to know that we’re getting close to the start of the refurbishment of this building. It’s not been easy – I know it’s something that’s been talked about and worked on for several years before I came to join you. And a number of people have worked especially hard this last year – and I want to thank them, and in particular Colin Chettle, for bringing us to this point. And I thank God and thank you, for the generosity of gifts that have made it worthwhile.
I want us to think about why we’re doing this work, and what it will mean to us. It’s important to do this, not just for ourselves, but for the mission of St Paul’s Church; for God’s mission. I believe that this project is not primarily about making this building more cosy for us, but making it more effective for mission. I believe that it’s about making us more ship-shape for the true purpose of St Paul’s Church.
A refurbished St Paul’s will help us in our worship and in the glorifying of God. It will also help us serve those hundreds of people who use our buildings each week, more effectively, more hospitably.
But there will be little point in our refurbished building, if we content ourselves with the achievement of refurbishment alone. To simply stop at transforming this building will be a failure, unless we are prepared to set sail in faith, so to speak. Lifeboats are for sailing in stormy seas, not for safe moorings – they are built for action. Churches are for mission in a complicated world, for seeking the growing Kingdom of God, for loving service to neighbours, for evangelism and proclamation of the good news of a loving God. Renewing our building for mission must also involve renewing our commitment to being available for challenging mission.


Mark tells us about the time Jesus taught huge crowds on the sea shore. So many people, that Jesus got into a boat and taught the crowds. For the disciples, it was a wonderful day with Jesus. All day long he taught in parables, and when he and the disciples were alone in private, he explained everything clearly.
At the end of that long day, evening came, and as the sky began to darken, Jesus said to his friends, “let’s cross to the other side of the lake”.
Peter, James, John and Andrew were literally in their element. These four fishermen all knew their business. Perhaps their minds had been stretched by all this wonderful teaching. How brilliant that they could now relax and do what they were experts at – sailing a boat for Jesus. Can you imagine Jesus asking you to do something that you’re good at, something well inside your comfort-zone?
So off they set, eastwards into the darkness, Jesus settling down to sleep…
I wonder what looks these disciples exchanged as the waters became choppy. When Matthew the tax-collector and Simon the freedom-fighter asked about the strengthening wind did the fishermen reassure them? When did the expert sailors begin to get nervous? Did they think of turning back to shore? Did they try to find their way to safer, calmer seas?
And when the waves came slopping over the sides, with the boat pitching up and down, with the water inside beginning to rise and panic beginning to spread, who decided to go to the stern to wake Jesus?
“Rabbi! Don’t you care that we’re going to drown? Don’t you fear for our lives?”

Those poor disciples. Still trying to work out who this rabbi Jesus truly is. And today they seem to have their answer. He’s the teacher who asks them to follow him into the storm, where they fear even for their lives. Isn’t it all Jesus’ fault? He chose them and called them, now it seems to he wants to drown them.

The disciples in this passage are modelling for us what sincere but feeble faith looks like. Faith that’s happy to follow Jesus in the sunny, successful parts of his mission can suddenly melt away in the dark and in the storm. In Mark’s gospel, the disciples are never described as having faith. Jesus is thrilled at the faith of the woman with bleeding, the friends of the paralysed man lowered through the roof, the father of the demon-possessed boy. But he never commends his followers for their faith in Mark’s gospel.
It’s as if Mark holds up a mirror for us. As we reflect on the disciples in his gospel, we see ourselves in our weaker moments. Keen to follow Jesus, but all too afraid.
We hear the story of the storm on the lake and we suspect that we might have tried to sail the ship into safer waters, to ignore Jesus’ call to cross to the other side and tie up on the shore because he can’t have been serious and because we know best. Or, when we’re at our wits’ end, to scream to God (who seems to be asleep) “don’t you care about us?”
Jesus, in Mark’s gospel, seems to have chosen disciples who don’t feel up to the task when it really matters. Yet he still believes in them. He still believes in you and me.
Jesus stands up and commands the wind and waves. “Peace! Be still!” The miracle happens, even for these faithless disciples. Jesus is Lord over all. Perhaps if they’d trusted his call, they’d have survived after all. Perhaps Jesus calmed the storm, not to save their lives, but to deal with their fears.

I believe that Jesus’ call to the disciples to push out from the shore, to set sail into less certain waters, is especially relevant to our church right now. I believe that God is calling us to be more mission-minded, more outward-looking, more deliberate and purposeful in the business of evangelism and more serious about living our lives more and more as mature and committed followers of Jesus.
Because I’ve had this feeling about a renewal of our purpose for several months, I booked myself onto a residential course on Church Growth. I spent most of the week before last there. And it was good to recognise many of the strengths of St Paul’s in what was discussed. But I also came back with a greater resolve than I had before. A resolve to do what I can with you to make this church even more ship-shape, not so that we can stay in our comfort zone, but so that we can go where Jesus calls.
There are people in our town who are searching and seeking. Yes, of course the vast majority are satsified with fairly comfortable lives. But a smaller number don’t want to settle for ‘fairly comfortable’. Sometimes it’s illness or bereavement that makes them ask the question, “what more is there than this?” Jesus and, later on the apostles, proclaim the truth that there is a life truly worth living – a life lived with God. They proclaim widely, to thousands. And just a few are interested. Jesus is always interested in the individual.
Sometimes we find it hard to set sail into the mission field because we feel we should save the whole world, and we doubt that we can. We shouldn’t and we can’t – that’s God’s job. Jesus only wanted his disciples to take him to the other side of the lake – where they found just one man to help – the Gerasene man who was out of his mind. Jesus healed him and asked him to tell his neighbours and friends what had happened. Then Jesus returned. It wasn’t a large-scale mission.
Sometimes, it seems to me, Jesus would take us into risky moments, all for the sake of just one soul. Like a shepherd who risked his 99 sheep to find the lost one.
So let’s get our church always ready for action. Let’s get it trimmed for mission, not just for comfort. Let’s be prepared to look at our services, our housegroups, our personal commitment to growing more like Jesus. I’ll be looking for ways of us working together on these issues over the coming months. And if we hear Jesus call us to push out and sail from the safe shore, let’s be the crew that’s ready to slip the moorings and make the adventure happen. Amen.

Can we be sure of eternal life?

Sermon preached at St Paul's Church, Oadby
Sunday 28 May 2006
Hugh James



There is no audio recording of this sermon, but the text is shown below.

...these verses emphasise how much it is God that changes us, rather than that we have changed ourselves. Sometimes, people get worried about that idea. They start to debate the rather sterile argument of whether it’s God’s decision – or my choice - predestination or free will. What's important here is that if God has written his law in our hearts, we will be being changed.

The bible readings used in this sermon are 1 John 5.9-13 and John 16.29-end
.

All over the world there are people trying to break the code – the da Vinci Code - to understand the mysteries of Dan Brown's book. Somehow, they seem to think that this is of some eternal importance. Why?

In another of Dan Brown's book, "Angels and demons” one of the chief characters seizes a bomb that’s about to go off, jumps into a helicopter and climbs into the night sky. He then returns to earth, using a parachute he’s concealed. When he "miraculously” arrives back in Rome unharmed, it is acclaimed a miracle and he is acclaimed Pope by general acclamation! Apparently, in theory, that’s still possible - without the conclave in the Sistine Chapel - and the white smoke.

To say that the story line is far fetched would be a major understatement. So why is one of his other books, the da Vinci code treated so seriously?

Don't get me wrong, if you’re on holiday with a few hours to spare, the novel is a fast romp across most of Europe, with an intriguing, if bloodthirsty, plot. I've read the book, but if the film’s as bad as the critics say, I’m not sure whether I'll be going to see it.

But just being a novel with an exciting plot, doesn't explain why the book has been so popular. I think that it's because it raises the question - in a rather negative way - of "who is Jesus.” Dan Brown is not the first person to have won fame - and money - from suggesting that the Christians’ belief in Jesus is based on a false understanding.

Despite winning the court case that the authors brought, Dan Brown would not deny that many of his ideas were drawn from the book: "Holy Blood, Holy Grail “ by Michael Baigent, Richard Leighn and Henry Lincoln. Their joint idea was that Jesus was just a man – with a family – and descendants today.

Similarly, a previous Bishop of Durham - David Jenkins achieved fame by writing a book questioning Christ’s physical resurrection.

That same question: "who is Jesus,” is central to both our readings this morning.

This is the last of our six-week series in 1 John. And the last verse of our readings today encapsulates John's purpose in writing the letter. He writes: "I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know that you have eternal life.”

Note that he was writing these things: "to you who believe in the name of the Son of God.” We might have expected that he would have been writing to outsiders, so that they might come to eternal life - or perhaps to sympathetic "God fearers” - people who had begun to realise that their own religion - the Greek gods - could offer nothing, and who needed teaching. But he wasn't. He was writing to Christians.

And he was writing to them so that they: "might know that they have eternal life.” That suggests that John's readers had doubts about their eternal life. Does that ring bells? Do you ever get doubts? It's easy to feel that you couldn't admit to it. What would everyone else say? Isn't it encouraging to find that John is not appalled at their lack of faith. He's expecting it.

We've previously talked about the Gnostic heresy that seems to have been around at the time of the epistle - a heresy that stressed the need for special knowledge. Gnostic comes from Gnosis – G N O S I S – meaning knowledge.

It was a heresy that played upon the same sort of feelings that people had then as those living now, who're chasing the secrets of the da Vinci code. It was a heresy that claimed that a simple belief in the crucified and risen Christ - and in his Spirit - was not enough.

In verse 9 John points out that we are very willing to listen to what humans have to say. We are. We all know how quickly so-called "Urban myths” develop. It's only two months back that half of Birmingham knew – for sure - that an Asian girl had been raped by Black youths. It was believed so strongly - and so widely - and caused such anger - that an innocent black lad, Isiah Young-Sam, was murdered.

That murder would have been tragic in itself - even if he'd been responsible for the rape. It would have been doubly tragic as he had no connection with the rape – which he hadn’t. But in fact, it was many times more tragic, as there seems no evidence at all that any rape took place.

But yes, we're all, all too ready to listen to gossip - to human tittle-tattle. But when God Almighty entrusts his truth to his son, Jesus - come in human form - and talking of the Father. We are very slow to listen.

What do you think John means when he says: "the Father has testified to his son."? I think he's referring to the actions in history – Jesus’ birth, life, teaching, death and resurrection. But there were also several very special occasions, which the disciples would remember particularly well.

There was Jesus’ baptism, when just as Jesus came up from the water, it says:
“suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, `This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.'
Matthew 3:16
Then there was the time when Jesus went up onto the mountain with his closest disciples - and Moses and Elijah appeared, and then a voice came from the cloud and said,
`This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!'
Matthew 17:5

And then there were the miracles. And above all there was the resurrection. All of these are God the father's testimony to his son.

That's why the creeds are important. In them, we're saying: "this is how we believe that God has revealed himself to us.” There are many who can't accept them - many in the first century - and many in the 21st. In the da Vinci Code Dan Brown mentions the efforts that the early Christians made to express what they believed be true. Eventually those efforts resulted in the words of what we call: "the Apostles Creed” and the "Nicene Creed.”

Dan Brown makes much of the early Christians’ disagreement. And it's true that at times, it wasn't certain which form of words would be used. But that doesn’t amount to some major conspiracy. As a Christian, I also believe that the Holy Spirit was working and overruling the decisions that were made.

Verse 10 in our passage continues: “Those who believe in the Son of God have the testimony in their hearts.” Some weeks back, we had a series of sermons on: "things that Jesus didn't say” and Steve Carter preached one on: "let Jesus come into your heart.” I wasn't there, but I believe that he was stressing that commitment to Christ was not just an individual thing but had results in one's whole life - changed attitudes and changed actions.

Jesus may not have said: "let me come into your heart '' but what God the Father has promised was that when Jesus came he, the Father, would write his laws in the hearts of the believers. In Jeremiah 31:33 it says: “the Lord says: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.”

That’s what John is echoing: “Those who believe in the Son of God have the testimony in their hearts.”

Once again, those verses emphasise how much it is God that changes us, rather than that we have changed ourselves. Sometimes, people get worried about that idea. They start to debate the rather sterile argument of whether it’s God’s decision – or my choice - predestination or free will. What's important here is that if God has written his law in our hearts, we will be being changed.

We should be able to recognise that difference – recognise that eternal life that starts now. And other people should be able to recognise it too. Much of this letter has been about the difference that a new heart should bring. It has talked about the love that flows from a new heart - a love for God and for others - love that expresses itself in loving actions towards those around.

So, as we look at how we behave, we should be asking: "Have I always been like that?” and: "Would I be like that naturally?” or "Is the spirit of God changing me?” And I hope that the answer for each of us is "yes, I am being changed.”

And if that’s true, it's testifying to two things. It's testifying that you and I are children of God. But it's also testifying that God is God - testifying that his Spirit has the power to change people.

I’m a little bit hesitant in saying what I've just said. I'm hesitant because often it's the wrong people who take it to heart. Those with the most sensitive consciences - people whom everybody around recognise as reflecting the love of Jesus – they are often the same people who’re already conscious of their own inadequacy. And there is a risk that they may be driven into spiritual despondency. I don't want to do that.

But equally, it's often those who least show forth Jesus in their lives, who are least aware of the discrepancy between what they proclaim and what they are. It's for those of us like that, that John has set up the magnificent standard of love in this epistle.

The remaining verses in our passage are even more sombre. They say that to fail to believe in Christ - the Son of God, is to make God a liar. It’s strong language. In our culture - in an age that likes to say: "all routes lead to God” - it will not be popular. The next phrase is equally strong: "whoever does not have the son of God does not have life.”

It's another example where the epistle of John picks up the teaching of the Gospel of John. It reflects John 14:6: “Jesus said to him, `I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’” These are truths that we cannot escape.

I believe in tolerance. I believe it's important to say: "I will stand up for your right to believe what you do.” - to say: "I believe in your right to express your beliefs - and to worship as you wish.” But that is not the same as saying: "all belief has equal value.”

But there are some who claim that tolerance is not just saying what I did - it's saying: "You are right to do as you do,” whether that be in belief or in lifestyle. To refuse to say that may make us unpopular.

John's epistle was written to Christians who were living in a similar pluralistic world to ourselves- living among a multitude of different religions and philosophies - all of whom claimed the truth. Those Christians must sometimes have had their own doubts. But John concludes:
" I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know that you have eternal life."

May that be true for us, today





Let us pray

Living Lord,
Thank you for your gift of eternal life,
That you won for us at such cost.
Give us the openings to share it with others,
To your glory. Amen

World-conquering faith

Sermon preached at St Paul's Church, Oadby
Sunday 7 May 2006
Simon Harvey



There is no audio recording of this sermon, but the text is shown below.

We speak all the time of what we choose to do, how we’ve chosen to live, which ways of believing and belonging we’ve decided on, as if living the Christian life is always something done on our terms. But the gospel is not about our deciding – it’s all about what God is doing in Jesus Christ. The gospel is that not that we love God, but that he first loved us. The gospel is not that you have found a friend in Jesus, but that Jesus has made a friend in you.

The bible readings used in this sermon are 1 John 5.1-6 and John 15.9-17
.

Have you ever known someone who fell in with the wrong crowd? Someone who was basically alright, but one day found themselves with a new circle of friends, who led them astray? Perhaps you can think of someone you went to school with. Perhaps that’s even your story. Sometimes it’s called ‘peer-pressure’. When a basically decent person comes under the influence of a strong personality, they can soon find themselves doing things they wouldn’t have thought about before. And those of us who are parents, or grand-parents can become anxious about the influence our children are under at school or university or around the streets of Oadby.
But the same kind of influence can also happen for good. Let me tell you a story with a great ending.
Jackie was in a whole load of trouble. She’d made some mistakes in her life, found herself in a mess. She was pretty and always had a lot of attention from the boys. But she also got attention from her father, who abused her and took away her innocence. It got so bad she had to leave home. She stayed with mates for a while, but there were always so many arguments, she ended up moving on from place to place. Some friends ended up in trouble with the law, some just lived for drink, drugs and having a laugh. Jackie knew that things were always going to be hard for her so she was going to have to be hard with other people. It seemed that everyone she met wanted something from her but even so, she never gave up hope that one day life could be better.
Then one day Jackie met Helen at a church project. Helen was a good fifteen years older than Jackie but somehow, they found it easy to talk and get on. Jackie found it hard to understand why someone like Helen wanted to get involved with her and her problems. Helen had a home and a husband and ‘a life’, yet she really cared. She was genuine. And it was clear who was making the running and taking the initiative – Helen was choosing to be friends with Jackie, even though Jackie couldn’t understand why.
As they spent more time together, Jackie realised that Helen’s friendship was real, with no strings attached. Here was someone who didn’t want to exploit her. She became more relaxed, allowed Helen to know more about her and her past. And Jackie changed. With Helen’s encouragement and unconditional acceptance, you can imagine what happened. Jackie grew happier, healthier and more confident than she had been since she was a small child. Just knowing that someone care about her, valued her, and loved her gave her the chance to live a better life. She grew.
When Jackie thought about it, the more time she spent with Helen and her husband, the more she noticed that she was seeing life the way that Helen did. Just hanging round her made her feel good about herself and good about other people. Jackie wasn’t the tough, hard, person who feared allowing other people to get close anymore. She was becoming more like her friend. And she noticed how people around her responded to that.
When Jackie’s brother told her he was leaving his partner, Jackie knew that his little boy would need help. Without stopping to think about it for long, Jackie took the boy in and they got a council flat together. She found herself being there for the boy, just like Helen had been there for her.
Today, Jackie’s doing really well. I saw her a few months ago, and life’s really good. Though you’ll understand I changed her name and some details of her story.

Has someone chosen you? Has someone come close to you and offered their friendship to you, accepting you just as you are? Have you ever been befriended and loved by someone so good and found that in the friendship you’ve shared, you’ve gradually become more and more like them?
Who is the good friend, who’s chosen to befriend you?
[…]


Jesus said, “You did not choose me but I chose you.”
“You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer… but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.”
Let’s be clear: You did not choose to be Jesus’ friend. He chose to be yours. There’s a world of difference. We speak all the time of what we choose to do, how we’ve chosen to live, which ways of believing and belonging we’ve decided on, as if living the Christian life is always something done on our terms. But the gospel is not about our deciding – it’s all about what God is doing in Jesus Christ. The gospel is that not that we love God, but that he first loved us. The gospel is not that you have found a friend in Jesus, but that Jesus has made a friend in you.

And just like a good friendship – like the friendship that Jackie had with Helen – it involves commitment. If we stay close with him we find ourselves becoming more and more like our friend Jesus. This is what the gospel and letters of John are saying to us. They’re encouraging us to know that when you ‘abide’ with Jesus (‘hang around with Jesus’), spend time getting to know him and his character and seeing life as he sees it, noticing who matters to him, when you trust yourself to him, something will rub off on you – you’ll become more like him. And to make it clear, our friend Jesus spells out his command, “love one another, as I have loved you” – “be like me in your loving and living.”


Two weeks ago, Hugh preached on the passage in the first letter of John in which the church is reminded that Jesus asks his disciples to love one another. Last week, we looked at the message that ‘perfect love drives out all fear’. Today, we hear that as we do what Jesus asks, as we love one another, we fulfill his commands and conquer the world with love. John’s gospel tells us in doing this, as we love as he loves, our joy may be complete, our hearts and lives will be filled with peace and joy.
I believe that at the moment God is saying something to us as a church. I believe that we are being encouraged to pay more attention to the way in which we are making progress in being more like our friend Jesus. How much have we become more like Jesus this year? How much more like Jesus are you, than you were?
Because believing in God isn’t enough. Because having faith in Jesus Christ leaves something more to be done. In Jesus, God loves us as we are… but he loves us so much he doesn’t want to leave us as we are. If we accept the friendship of Jesus, then we have to stay with him, ‘abide’ with him, and let his character rub off on ours.
When I think about my life, I want to be more than I am now. I realise that the purpose in my life is not to be found in being more busy, or more wealthy, or more successful. I want to be more like Jesus, because that’s a life worth living.
And I believe that as a church together, we might be more than we are now in all sorts of ways, but that unless we are becoming more like Jesus, day by day and month by month, the whole enterprise of our church is pretty pointless. Becoming more like Jesus, corporately and personally, isn’t an easy path. It will take us into places where we feel vulnerable, serving people around us with the compassion of Jesus, proclaiming the truth of the gospel with the conviction of Jesus, living as God calls with the wholeheartedness of Jesus. But we didn’t choose this path, he chose us and chose us for lives that would bear fruit.
In the summer months, we’re going to be looking at gospel readings which reveal the character of Jesus, and I hope that we will consciously examine ourselves, to identify where we need to make more progress in being Christ-like. We’re soon going to be celebrating Pentecost, and thinking about the work of God’s Holy Spirit among his people. Paul explained what kind of fruit should grow in a Spirit-filled church – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
These are the fruit of faith which conquers the world. Let’s experience more and more of them in and through the things we do – in our gathering here in worship, in our deepening friendships with one another, in our reaching out to other people. All because we are growing more like the friend who chose us – the friend we have in Jesus. Amen.

How to love beyond words

Sermon preached at St Paul's Church, Oadby
Sunday 7 May 2006
Hugh James



There is no audio recording of this sermon, but the text is shown below.

Sam Sindamuka worked as a part-time Curate while continuing his job in Bujumbura. Sam didn't just say: "I love you." in the name of Christ. He showed his love in action. That was costly love. Sam was being obedient to that new commandment that Jesus gave us, recorded in John 13:34 - Jesus said: "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another."

The bible readings used in this sermon are 1 John 3.16-end & John 10.11-18.

Let us pray:
heavenly Father,
take my words and speak through them,
take all our thoughts and turn them to yourself.
In Jesus name, Amen.

"I love you.'' - such common words - but what do they mean -- to us -- to other people? There's a strong tradition that, as an old man in the church in Ephesus, St John used to keep repeating, to those around: "Little children, love one another.'' So it’s not surprising that Love is one of the major themes of this epistle

“I Love you.” It's a phrase that can be very trite. -- How often do we hear that a film star has "fallen in love" with another film star - and then, only months later, -- they've broken up. It's not hard to say: "I love you.'' It's not hard to say: "I love you" to a human. And it’s not hard to say: ''I love you'' to God either.

If you've heard the story, that I'm about to tell you, before, I apologise. It's one that affected me deeply, and I’d like to share it with you. Towards the end of last year Samuel Sindamuka died. Sam Sindamuka was a Murundi, an inhabitant of Burundi. Burundi is a tiny African country, the size of Wales, just south of Rwanda. And, like Rwanda, it suffers from extreme racial violence.

Vivien and I were out there in 1972, serving as missionaries. There was an attempted rebellion - which the Army overcame in about three weeks. But the Tutsi government got very frightened. They were afraid that the Hutus, the 85 per cent majority, might seize power.

It's response was to purge the army – they executed the 50 per cent who were Hutu -- and then they sent the army to every corner of the country - to round-up every Hutu with secondary education - anyone with the potential to be a future opposition leader. They even came to our local secondary school and took away all the Hutu boys over 12 years old.

Once they had been rounded up in the trucks, people were taken off to the local prison – they were never seen again - though bodies were seen floating in many rivers.

It was not a good time to oppose the Government - which tried to blame outside powers for its problems. And the government considered the widows, of those who have been killed, just as it had considered their husbands -- as its enemies. Anyone who helped the widows and children was at risk themselves. Instead, many people showed their loyalty to the government by making the widows’ lives worse – and benefiting themselves – by stealing the widows’ hoes and personal possessions. Fear was everywhere.

Now, Sam Sindamuka was a very able person. When there had been a parliament, he had been a member. He had been a school teacher and a schools inspector. In 1972 he was working as the official representative of the Anglican Church in the capital city, Bujumbura.

He himself was actually Tutsi. But as the plight of the Hutu widows increased, he went into the shanty towns distributing help – food and money.

Inevitably, it was noticed. One in every 10 people was a government informer. In the end, he was summoned to the offices of the Sureté - the Homeland Security. A place people feared. The official there, another Tutsi, asked him why he was helping the widows. "As a Christian, I believe that I must.''

The official said: "I lost eight members of my family at Nyanza Lac - in the attempted rebellion - How many did you loose?'' Sam replied: "35." (Africans do have very large extended families).

"You're mad.'' said the official ''get out of my office.'' So Sam went back to his office - and continued his work of love.

That story had a happy ending. It might not have done. Sam’s love was Christian love.

A few months after that - after the troubles had ceased – Sam Sindamuka was ordained and worked as a part-time Curate while continuing his job in Bujumbura. Whilst still a curate, Sam was elected Bishop - and a few years later, consecrated Archbishop of the Anglican Church.

It was a privilege to have known him.

Sam didn't just say: "I love you." in the name of Christ. He showed his love in action. That was costly love. Sam was being obedient to that new commandment that Jesus gave us, recorded in John 13:34 - Jesus said: "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another."

It’s the commandment of which John speaks in verse 23 of our reading: “And this is his commandment, that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us” Once again, note that link between the epistle and the Gospel of John.

Our second lesson, from John 10, spoke about Jesus being the Good Shepherd - and laying down his life for his sheep - for the Jews of his day and now for you and me. Again, that's love, costly love.

We sing that children's song: " Jesus' love is very wonderful - so high you can't get over it - so low you can't get under it - so wide you can't get around it - oh wonderful love!

Recently, I read an article by someone discussing what, in the Passion narrative, Jesus found hardest. Was it the Garden of Gethsemane, sweating drops of blood, praying to be released from the task ahead? Was it the arrest and being abandoned by all his friends? Was it the torture associated with the trial process - that we saw portrayed so graphically in "The passion of the Christ"? Or was it the agony of the cross - or being abandoned by his father?

The author plumped for the garden of Gethsemane -- and being able to pray: "not my will but yours be done." But I'm not sure you can choose. They were all indescribably costly. You may have seen the Christian devotional poster: On it the author records: ‘I asked Jesus "How much do you love me?" and Jesus said, "This much..." Then he stretched out his arms and died.’

Jesus love for us wasn't just words. It was practical -- and very, very costly. It was our Salvation. So John insists that our faith, too, should be very, very practical. Verse 11 asks: “How does God's love abide in anyone who has the world's goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?”

That’s a good question. But there are problems. We live in a global village. We see the plight of people suffering from violence in Iraq - or Darfur - or from the after-effects of the earthquake in Pakistan - or the famine in East Africa. The list is endless. What can we do? The danger is that we consider the task impossible - so we do nothing.

John's letter was written to Christians. So it's the needs of other Christians that is uppermost in his mind. I'm sure that that's not to say that we can neglect the rest of mankind. But I think that we do have a priority towards Christians.

In many Muslim lands, for years, Christians have been just about tolerated. To be honest, the treatment that they have received has often been better than the treatment of Muslims by Christians - as for instance in Spain under the Inquisition. Nevertheless, the Christians have been second-class citizens, highly taxed and excluded from many jobs.

So, in situations of natural disaster, Christians are often the last to receive aid. So I believe that we have a priority to help them – our brothers and sisters in Christ.

My wife had a colleague - who didn't claim to be a Christian - who refused to contribute to any charity working abroad, with the statement that: "charity begins at home." I would suggest that even if we find it difficult to sort out our priorities, that that is not a position that any Christian can hold.

I don't suppose that I been very controversial in saying that we should love others -- showing them a little of the love that God has shown us. But how can we show it?

We need to be aware of those around us with needs. Our society can be very insular. I remember the time that a Christian doctor committed suicide. Everyone -- including me -- said: "If only I'd realised, I'd have helped." Some people are more discerning than others. We need to pray for that sensitivity.

But I believe that there are other times when we are aware of something that we might do to help someone. But any action gets squeezed out by time. Despite all our labour saving gadgets, we seem to have less time than ever. Time can be costly.

But John goes further than just stressing the importance of showing our love in practical ways. He says it will help us. Verse 19 reads: “And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before him.”

Doubt is a very real fact of life for many Christians. Does God love me? Has he accepted me? Am I different? Somehow, these verses suggest, that as we find ourselves obeying the new commandment, we realise that the Spirit of God really is with us.

The emphasis of this passage is on the importance of Christian acts of love. But there are some who go beyond that - and say: "to be loving, is to be a Christian.'' You sometimes even hear people say: "He was a lovely Christian" of a person who never professed any faith.

John will have none of that. In verse 23 he says: "and this is his commandment, that we should believe in the name of his son, Jesus Christ.'' it is that belief in Christ that makes us Christians. But if we are Christians, we will not stop there. As John says in verse 18: "Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action."

Even with this sermon series, we don't cover the whole of this short letter. And in 1 John chapter 2 -- which we haven’t covered -- John says this -- and it reinforces our current passage --:
“Now by this we may be sure that we know him, if we obey his commandments. 4 Whoever says, 'I have come to know him', but does not obey his commandments, is a liar, and in such a person the truth does not exist;
5 but whoever obeys his word, truly in this person the love of God has reached perfection. By this we may be sure that we are in him: 6 whoever says, 'I abide in him', ought to walk just as he walked.”

The words - the belief - the faith - are vitally important. But if the profession is genuine, it won't stop there. Our love will be seen in truth and action.

I started with the story of Sam Sindamuka's love in action. Loving actions that he couldn't avoid as a Christian. Love that was costly, but love that brought honour to his Lord.

May our lives show that same love.

Let us pray:

Compassionate Lord,
as I go about my everyday life in this town,
May I be an instrument of your love,
and bring glory to your name,

Walking in the light

Sermon preached at St Paul's Church, Oadby
Sunday 30 April 2006
Hugh James



There is no audio recording of this sermon, but the text is shown below.

...there are two aspects -- one is walking with God -- the other is walking with our fellow Christians. Are we walking with God in a way that allows his light to shine into our lives and reveal what's really going on?

The bible readings used in this sermon are 1 John 3.1-7 & Luke 24.36b-48.

Walking in the light

Let us pray:
Lord of Light,
Take our minds,
Blot out the distractions of the world around
And turn them to yourself.
In Jesus’ Name. Amen

Today, we're starting a six-week series -- looking at the first epistle of John. And I'm looking forward to it -- and I hope that I can be helpful in sharing some of its great truths with you.

But I have to confess, to being slightly disappointed - disappointed at not being able to preach from the gospel reading. That story of Thomas -- I identify so much with him. I was actually born on the 21st of December, -- which was his Saints Day -- though it can now be celebrated on 3rd July.

When I was born, the principal of my father's theological College wrote to my father, -- congratulated him on my birth -- and then added: "of course, as a good churchman, you should have called him Thomas. But then," he added, "I didn't call my son Simon and Jude." (That’s the 28th October).

But even if I'm not named after Thomas, I find myself identifying with him. Like him, I'm horribly rationalist -- dead men don't rise. Like him, I want proof -- "I need to touch him." Like him, I'm slow to get enthused -- I need to be persuaded that something’s right.

But the Lord understood Thomas -- and he understands me. He went out of his way to show himself to Thomas. There's no disgrace in questioning -- though when God's produced the evidence, he expects us to act on it.

But that’s not our sermon. So let's go back to John's first epistle. This is the start of a six-week series. So before we look at the truths in today's reading, we need to take a brief look at the epistle in general. First - who wrote it?

There are five books in the Bible associated with John. The gospel that bears his name, three epistles and the book of Revelation. And Revelation -- the only one without John in the main title -- is the only one that actually says that it was written by John -- and then we're not sure which John. Like today, John was not the rarest of names.

The gospel has no introduction to say who wrote it -- or who it was written for. It just goes straight into those famous words: "in the beginning." Later on, it avoids mentioning one of the disciples by name, and just calls him: "the disciple whom Jesus loved." So, was the author using the phrase when he was speaking of himself? If so, that author may have been John the apostle.

In the second and third epistles, the writer calls himself "the elder." -- not that that helps us much. But in the first letter, we don't even get that. I hope that you've got a Bible in front of you. And if you have, you'll see that the opening verses appear to be that of an eyewitness: "We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life."

It doesn't prove anything, but it sounds like a close companion of Christ - and would certainly be compatible with the writer being the apostle John. As we study the epistle, you'll probably notice many similarities with John's gospel -- making it likely that both were penned by the same person.

Not everyone agrees with even that, though, as there are a number of words which are found in the gospel, and not the epistle, and vice versa. But if you looked in my writings from a few years back, you wouldn't find me using words like "meta-analysis," "paradigm," or "pro-active" let alone "gob-smacked!" but I fear that you might find them now!

So, overall, I would suggest that the writer of 1 John is the same as the writer of John's gospel -- and both may well be John the apostle.

So when were they written? Even if they were written by John the apostle, if he is the same John as the church leader in Ephesus, he lived to a very great age -- so they could well have been written late in the first century. There are suggestions in the epistle that it was opposing the Gnostic heresy -- a heresy which arose after the initial expansion of the church -- so suggesting that the epistle was written quite late in the first, or in the early second century.

After discussing who wrote a book -- and when -- it is customary to consider the principle message that the book sets forth. But that's what we will be talking about over the next six weeks. So I won't consider it now.

Let's turn to one John chapter 1. The first four verses introduce themes that we know well from the gospel of John. -- the word of life (in verse 1) -- Eternal Life (in verse 2) -- Christian Fellowship (in verse 3) -- both between believers and between believers and God the Father and Jesus his Son.

John has seen these things work out as he and the other disciples lived with Christ. And now that fellowship continues within the Church. Despite all the persecution that came to the early Church, that Fellowship with God the Father and God the Son brings Joy, not sadness. And he wants to share that joy with his readers.

Is JOY what marks us out as Christians -- as Easter people? Sadly, the Christian portrayed in the media is usually just the opposite -- as miserable as sin. I hope that’s not us.

The word of life (in verse 1) -- echoes the phrase from the gospel: "in the beginning was the word, and the word was with God and the Word was God."

Just now, I mentioned the Gnostic heresy. It took several forms, but it commonly included the belief that it was possible to have special knowledge -- Gnosis means knowledge. And this knowledge wasn't available to everyone -- only to a special clique. The Gnostics also had difficulty with the doctrine of the incarnation – the belief that Christ was truly human and truly God.

But here we have the writer pointing to the word of life. Words are what convey knowledge -- but this word was Jesus. To know Him is true knowledge.

I think there are times when it’s a temptation for us too to look for something special -- a new spirituality -- a new experience. Sometimes the simple beliefs of our faith seem rather old -- rather unexciting -- rather boring. I'm sure that that wanting something new and different was what had led to many becoming Gnostics.

But John is witnessing to Jesus – the true – and only - word of life

And so we move to the second section -- verses 5 to 9 -- and in verse 5 we read: “God is light and in him there is no darkness at all.” We celebrate Christmas in December. There’s no evidence that Christ came to earth in December -- he almost certainly didn't -- and Christianity has rather taken over the pre-Christian midwinter festival. But there's something highly significant about celebrating the coming of the light of the world at the darkest time of the year -- unless of course you're celebrating in Australia!

But, give or take the odd week, caused by different people's calendars, we've just celebrated Easter at the exact time of the year when Jesus died and rose -- the Passover. And that's a time when light is important too. It's a time when the light is growing -- when we're looking forward to long summer evenings.

But the picture here is rather different from the comfortable warm spring sunlight. “God is light and in him there is no darkness at all” By comparison to spring sunlight, it's a blinding glare.

We were in France when there was a solar eclipse a few summers ago. To prevent eye damage, the French government had ensured that every citizen had a pair of goggles -- dark glasses able to withstand the sun's light. So when the moment came, all the Frenchman looked at the sun. But we Brits, tried to look at the shadow on the ground, as our namby-pamby government was afraid we wouldn't use the glasses properly -- so gave us none at all.

But light is powerful. It's highly dangerous to look at the sun. So what do we understand by the phrase: "walking in the light."

I think there are two aspects -- one is walking with God -- the other is walking with our fellow Christians. Are we walking with God in a way that allows his light to shine into our lives and reveal what's really going on? We all know how visible the cobwebs appear when the sunshine streams into a room. If God’s spotlight was turned on your life – or mine -- are there aspects of them of which we’d be ashamed?

But are we actually hiding some of our sins from ourselves? Jesus talked much of the sins of the heart -- of things like hatred -- of impurity. Do we admit them to God? Do we even admit them to ourselves?

And what about walking in the light with others? I'm not suggesting that we should reveal all our sins to others – though James tells us that there is a place for confession to others. But do we paint ourselves as above reproach -- even when we know that we are not? Or do we share that we too are in need of God's forgiveness. It's very easy to put oneself on a pedestal -- but it's a very lonely place to be.

But what do we do when the Light reveals our failings? John tells us that in verses 7 – 9.

I was brought up on the Book of Common Prayer – the old Prayer Book -- and after years of not using it I now often find myself using it as I lead the 6:30 p.m. Prayer Book service at St Peter’s. And at the beginning of the service, I find myself using these same verses: "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

There are two parts to the first line: firstly, denying that we have sin. If we say that, we're just wrong – we’re deceiving ourselves. But secondly, far more serious, is that we're separating ourselves from the God of truth -- the truth is not in us.

In fact this idea is repeated twice -- and second time round, the wording is even stronger: "If we say that we have not sinned, we make him (God) a liar, and his word is not in us."

But the alternative is to accept our sinfulness and confess it. And then we're promised both forgiveness and cleansing. It’s important that we let God’s light shine into our lives regularly -- daily -- and seek his forgiveness for the dust -- the sin -- that the light of God shows up. Someone once said: “Keep short accounts with God.” It’s good advice. That’s much better than an annual spring clean.

But as we benefit from forgiveness, St. John goes to great pains to remind us of the cost of our forgiveness: “and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.”

John is very keen that the readers of his letter should not sin. One of the branches of Gnosticism held the body in very low esteem -- what mattered was the mind. So it didn't matter what you did with the body – just enjoy it. Perhaps that isn't exactly where we're at. But we live in a society where the attitude is very much: "Do what you like if it feels good to you." And that can have the same effect. And then it's very easy for the world's values to creep into the church.

And John goes on to acknowledge that sin happens – and sadly, this side of heaven, it always will -- but the way is available for forgiveness. Jesus is like that lamb that was sacrificed in the Old Testament. The people's sins were laid on the lamb -- and then the lamb was killed. The people could be at one with God -- the lamb atoned for their sins. But now it's Christ who is the atoning sacrifice. His blood, shed on the cross, covered your sins and mine.

Some people find the idea of sacrifice, of the cross, of blood, distasteful. It is, it’s outrageous. Our forgiveness was not bought cheaply.

So, as we enjoy the spring sunshine -- or hope to -- is the light of God shining into our lives? Revealing the dusty corners that need forgiveness? And are we open in admitting that we are nothing special - just sinners -- saved by God's grace?

As St Paul wrote in Ephesians 5: “For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light.”

Let us pray:
Heavenly Father,
Thank you for the light.
May we walk as children of light all our days,
Amen

Sudden ending - or new beginnings?

Sermon preached at St Paul's Church, Oadby
Sunday 16 April 2006
Simon Harvey

In church for the sermon: 110 adults and 17 children

To listen to a 23 minute audio recording in .mp3 format click on download or streaming.


The way your computer responds when you click on the links depends on your software and how it has been configured. Most browsers will begin playing the sermon in your default Media Player software after a few seconds if you select the "streaming" option. Unless you want to keep the sermon on your computer the "streaming" option is best. (It also works well, even on a slow dial-up connection).

Alternatively, choose "download" if you wish to save the file to your computer(e.g. to play on an ipod or .mp3 player).

More technical help here.

The bible readings used in this sermon are Acts 10.34-43 and Mark 16.1-8.

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Archiving audio files

With a limited amount of webspace on my server, it's necessary to doa little housekeeping from time to time. I've deleted audio files from sermons before 1 March 2006. If you want to hear one of these archived files, email me at simon@sjharvey.org.uk

The Passion Narrative - Palm Sunday 2006

Sermon preached at St Paul's Church, Oadby
Sunday 9 April 2006
Simon Harvey

In church for the sermon: 77 adults and 25 children

Today we need to hear the story. Just the story - no clever tricks or illustrations. No complicated explanations. No script and no notes. Just the story. Because this is the story that makes sense of all our stories.

To listen to a 13 minute audio recording in .mp3 format click on download or streaming.

Sadly, the Brownies reading of the bible passage wasn't recorded, so the passage has been dubbed in for this podcast.

The way your computer responds when you click on the links depends on your software and how it has been configured. Most browsers will begin playing the sermon in your default Media Player software after a few seconds if you select the "streaming" option. Unless you want to keep the sermon on your computer the "streaming" option is best. (It also works well, even on a slow dial-up connection).

Alternatively, choose "download" if you wish to save the file to your computer(e.g. to play on an ipod or .mp3 player).

More technical help here.

The bible readings used in this sermon are Mark 15.25-39.