Let everything that has breath...

Psalm 150
Philippians 4: 4-9

When Christopher (our organist) suggested focussing on church music for the month of February, I just knew that we had to begin with the Psalm we read this morning – Psalm 150 – a Psalm that exhorts us all to Praise the Lord.

Praise the Lord!


Praise God in his sanctuary;
   

praise him in his mighty firmament! 


Praise him for his mighty deeds;
   

praise him according to his surpassing greatness!


Praise him with trumpet sound;
  

 praise him with lute and harp! 


Praise him with tambourine and dance;
   

praise him with strings and pipe! 


Praise him with clanging cymbals;
   

praise him with loud clashing cymbals! 


Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!


Praise the Lord!

Music exerts a powerful influence on us in our every day.

How often have you caught just a snatch of a song on the radio and been instantly transported back in time to an occasion that song was played that sticks in your mind.

Sometimes the memories evoked are so powerful that we can recall smells and atmosphere, taste the food we shared or, in other ways, relive the moment.

Music can move us to tears – tears of sadness, tears of joy, tears of frustration.

Many of the acclaimed revival periods in the history of the church have been accompanied by distinctive music – from the music of Wesley, to the songs of Moody and Sankey, all capturing the mood of a moment, and, many would claim, eternal truths.

My early church days were accompanied by strains of being washed in the blood, waiting for the roll to be called up yonder.

Strange language for our young folk in church circles today.

Even much of what we would consider to be modern praise music has already been discarded by our youth whose tastes and interests move on so quickly, it’s hard to keep up.

This Psalm reminds us, though, that it’s not just about the words, but about the methods of our praise.

We can praise God in so many ways – with hearts and hands and voices and instruments.

My colleague, Alec Shuttleworth, over in Tarbolton, exerts that “there is nothing, simply nothing in life that is not significantly improved by the addition of a banjo.”

With his talent, he is probably right.

We all have our favourite instrument of choice or style of praise music.

When we moved here, from Inverkip, Zara (then 10) insisted on calling the church Castlehill Praise Church.

It took me a while to realise that it was her mis-reading of Castlehill Parish church – we didn’t use the Parish in Inverkip church’s title.

But perhaps that’s a more fitting title – something to which we aspire – Castlehill Praise Church.

The book of Psalms has been edited into 5 sections – and this last section, of which we read the final Psalm, is all about praising God.

Hallelujah is repeated again and again – literally - Praise the Lord.

You may remember at the beginning of Lent last year, we “put away the Alleluias” – symbolically in a big tube for the young folk – but also literally in our praise for the rest of Lent.

We only unleashed them again on Easter Sunday.

And while, initially, I’d stumbled on that idea as a way to teach the youth church something of the austerity of Lent, like all good illustrations, it became much more than that.

The absence of Alleluias for those 6 weeks, made their reappearance all the more wondrous when Easter arrived.

And the careful screening of hymns to make sure we didn’t include any alleluias during Lent, made me so much more aware of how many of our hymns praise the Lord with alleluias.

And, it is fitting that a Psalm so full of Hallelujahs should end the Psalter, a hymnody of praises.

It might seem strange to describe the Psalms as a hymnody of praise when so many of the Psalms are full of sorrow and lament.

Indeed, the first part of the Psalter (Psalm 1-41) is composed mostly of laments:  "How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?" (Psalm 13:1) "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Psalm 22:1).

But lament is not the whole story.

Praise often wells up in the middle of the laments and, gradually, through the course of the whole book of Psalms, the laments give way to praise until finally, at the end, "hallelujah" is the final word.

Eugene Peterson wrote:      

This is not a 'word of praise' slapped onto whatever mess we are in at the moment. This crafted conclusion of the Psalms tells us that our prayers
 are going to end in praise, but that it is also going to take awhile.

It seems to be the way of Christian life that answered prayer is not something that can be rushed,

It requires patience.

IT requires persistence.

There is a lot of lamenting before we reach the Hallelujahs.

But in the rhythm of laughter and tears.

In the doubting and the believing.

In the resistance and the dance.

There is movement, inevitably, towards praise.

And even when we reach that point when we are moved to praise, our lament is not forgotten, our sorrow is not cast easily aside.

Our Hallelujahs are an expression of having reached the light only through the darkness.

Praising God, in our lives as individuals and in our life as a community in worship is a culmination of our struggles together, another stage in our journey, marked by all that has gone before and all that has yet to come.

And our praise is all the more real for having found a way to burst through lament and sorrow and darkness and questioning.

Our Alleluias are not a denial of all the sorrows we face.

They are not an escape from the realities of life.

Our Alleluias are a response to the God who, in darkness and in light, in sorrow and in joy, leads us on, a response to the God who brings life even out of death.

And that brings us to our New Testament reading this morning.

How are we able to keep on praising God through all that life brings?

St Paul tells us:

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

 Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.

I know that so many of you can testify to that peace that passes all understanding – seeing you through the darkest of times.

So many of you live out your every day in the knowledge that The Lord is near.

And focusing on whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable and the things worthy of praise – focusing on those things enables us to go through all that life brings praising God.

So whether for you, it’s the Redemption hymnal, or the old Scottish Psalter or CH4 or Mission Praise – whatever loosens your praise cords, don’t be inhibited by the times you’ve been told to keep quiet, don’t be subdued by the burdens you carry right now – Let everything that has breath Praise the Lord.

Amen.

Come and see

Readings: John 1: 29-42

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

If we’d been following the Lectionary, the prescribed readings for each Sunday, last week we’d have read about Jesus being baptised by John the Baptist.
With the Presbytery visit, we didn’t do that, but, this morning, we have reminded ourselves of what baptism is about:
Celebrating, in community, the grace of God.
In my mind, there is no such thing as private baptism.
Baptism is always done in the face of the community.
It is a shared sacrament, a shared celebration.
A shared acknowledgement of the grace of God.
Grace that is shared – in community.
Community became a very important theme this week as I shared with staff and pupils – and with parents and neighbours and colleagues shocked by the tragic death of our school lollipop lady.
We wanted to affirm that though we couldn’t change anything, that though the worst has happened, we could get through it together as a community.
One of the things we often do in school assemblies is affirm achievements and share celebrations together.
This week, we shared tragedy together and realised that that too is part of our life together as a community.
Community is important for all of us.
Our gospel reading this morning confirmed how important community was to Jesus.
But before we look at Jesus in today’s gospel reading, let’s back track just a little.

It’s amazing how quickly we move on, from the seemingly endless season of Advent, through Christmas, into Epiphany, when the wise men make their appearance, and then, to the baby all grown up and being baptised by John.
This year I’ve really felt that sense of urgency – the fast moving gospel.
We don’t get much time to relax around the crib after the marathon that is the Christmas season!

But, a careful reading of our gospel today reveals that Jesus didn’t hang about either.
In John’s version of the story, no sooner is Jesus baptised than he is straight out inviting people to join him on his adventures.
John is still pointing out Jesus as the Lamb of God.
Two of John’s disciples are curious about Jesus, so Jesus asks them: “what are you looking for?”
When they ask Jesus where he lives, Jesus invites them to “Come and see”
Jesus’ invitation was very simple.

He didn’t invite those men to articulate their faith or their quest for faith.

He simply invited them to “come and see”.

A simple invitation it might have been.

But it was also an effective one.

The disciples followed him,

They DID go and see – and they stayed with Jesus from then on.

One of them even went to find his brother so that he, too, could see what Jesus was about.



This gospel story has me thinking about what kind of community we are.

And of how we invite others to be part of that community.

Are we a community that is really open to welcoming others?

I am sure that the answer to that is YES.

We are, on the whole, friendly and welcoming.

People often comment on the welcome they receive here.



But how do we encourage folk across the threshold to experience that warmth and fellowship?



This week I also experienced a very personal sadness.

I attended the funeral of a very special friend.

Someone who introduced me to faith.

And who also consistently encouraged me in that faith.

Someone who did not present me with a cleverly worked out route to follow.

But who simply invited me to “come and see”

And the more I saw, the more I was welcomed, the more I was encouraged to hang around, the more I wanted to be part of that welcoming, accepting community.

It was a community in which the gospel was not only preached but also lived out.



Often we feel that to invite others in, we must know our way around, have our own route marked out, know where we’re going.

We’re frightened to invite folk to journey with us in case it exposes our own lack of knowledge,


But, Jesus, inviting the disciples to come and see, invited them on a journey of discovery.

He didn’t prescribe what their journey should be.

He didn’t set down criteria that they must fulfil.

He invited them to satisfy their curiosity, first of all, to find out where he lived, to come and see.

Knowing that in journeying alongside him, they would discover much more than they could have ever envisaged.

It was a seemingly casual invitation, with no strings attached.

But an invitation that would prove to be life changing.

And it is that invitation that is extended to you and I today.


Folk often say to me that they do not believe, that they do not have faith.

But I think that, to even say that, indicates a search, a curiosity.

Though that quest might never be owned by one who claims to have no faith, there is something there, underlying the denial.

And perhaps if we had a lighter touch.

Perhaps if we could be as casual in our invitation – casual but intentional, folk would join us on the journey.

The disciples claimed that they wanted to see where Jesus lived.

They weren’t looking for commitment.

But, because Jesus invited them to tag along, invited them to not only see where he lived but travel with him for a while, get to know him, they stuck around and commitment followed.

Being invited into community is what many of our neighbours long for.

They don’t want to hear about great campaigns.

Or about membership dues.

They want to be allowed to tag along.

And that acceptance into community, does the work of encouraging them to stay.

They want to be accepted in good times and in bad.

They want to be part of a community that rejoices with them and that grieves with them.



Let’s ask ourselves this morning – when is the last time we invited folk to journey with us.

And I’m not talking about going out to street corners and dragging folk in.

But when was the last time we invited anyone to “come and see”

I have to confess that I often hate folk to find out what I do for a living before they have had a chance to get to know me.

It was much easier, as a hospital chaplain to disguise my calling.

I could simply say that I worked at the hospital.

But I don’t think our gospel is urging us today to go out of our way to meet folk to invite.

It’s not about strangers today.

The focus is on our community.

It’s about the folk we know.

The folk we see at the paper shop in the morning.

The folk we sit with on the bus into town.

The folk in our aquarobics or zumba class or wherever else we encounter our neighbours.

Its about inviting them to come and see.

And, hopefully, once they have seen, they will want to stay.

Why?

Because Jesus, the baby born in Bethlehem meets us here.

Because Jesus who was baptised by John meets us here.

Because Jesus who went to the cross meets us here.

Because Jesus who asked others to care for his mother meets us here.

Jesus, who lives in community with us, who rejoices with us and suffers with us, meets us on the journey.

What about us inviting our neighbour to “come and see”?

Inexplicable joy

Readings: Isaiah 35 v 1-10

                 Matthew 11 v 2-11

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. 

Once again, we have beautiful, hopeful images from Isaiah in our lectionary reading this morning.
Images of transformation.
All through this season of Advent, Isaiah has brought us hope.
His words, when they were spoken, to a people in exile, would have sounded every bit as strange as they do now.
His hearers then, as now, were weighed down, overwhelmed with bleakness, and needed encouragement.
Isaiah’s message was balm for hurting spirits.

Usually, in advent, I am drawn to the gospel readings, but this year, it is the prophecies from Isaiah that have sucked me in.
Not just with the beautiful images they have portrayed but also with their ability to speak through the centuries right to the heart of a world that needs to cultivate hope today.

Let’s hear again those hopeful words for today:

The desert shall rejoice and bloom, like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly…
and rejoice with joy and singing…
Strengthen the weak hands
make firm the feeble knees
Be strong, do not fear…
Here is your God
The eyes of the blind shall be opened
and the ears of the deaf unstopped
the lame shall leap like a deer
and the tongue of the speechless shout for joy
Waters shall break forth in the wilderness
and streams in the desert.
That image of the crocus blossoming abundantly stuck me this week – as I could just picture it.
Last spring, quite a number of you told me, to take a walk down to the park at Corsehill.
And what a sight there was there of crocuses in blossom.
I walked down Monument Road, accompanied by the noise of traffic – but, as soon as I stepped through the gates of the park, it was as though a hush fell over the world.
The sight and the atmosphere, for me, at that moment, was truly electric.
There was simply quiet peace and amazing beauty.
The dead leaves and bare patches of soil under the trees had been transformed into a carpet of crocuses.
That sight affected me both physically and emotionally.
That sight spoke to me of hope, of peace AND of joy.
It didn’t seem enough to simply breathe a prayer of thanks – I wanted to sing my heartfelt praise to a God who could cause such beauty.
And it’s those emotions that rushed back for me this week as I’ve sat with this Isaiah passage.
Hope, peace and joy – and an urge to sing!

The prophecy today speaks not only of hope, not only of peace, but also of joy - all three seemingly elusive qualities in our world today.

It’s a strange thing – we get the notion of hope fairly easily – we’d probably counter that we all need hope in order to survive.
In our darkest moments, in the dark corners of our world, hope is that light that flickers and sustains life.

And peace – we all long for peace – for a world free of conflict – and the freedom that can only be experienced through peace.

But joy seems to go a step further.
Joy, it seems, is a luxury, not an essential element for our well being.

So many people just now are going through the motions. putting a brave face on things, doing what is expected of them, but not really experiencing joy in the process.
- a bit like the Charlie Brown cartoon:
- “I think there must be something wrong with me, says Charlie Brown to Linus.
- Christmas is coming, but I’m not happy. I don’t feel the way I’m supposed to feel. I just don’t understand Christmas, I guess.”
- “ I like getting presents, and sending Christmas cards, and decorating trees, and all that, but I’m still not happy.
But the ancient prophecy speaks of joy and singing.
The crocus will not just blossom abundantly but the desert will rejoice with joy and singing.
The tongue of the speechless will not just be loosened but will sing for joy.

And those last words that we read – I’m going to revert to the words of a chorus we used to sing in Youth Group:
Therefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return
And come with singing unto Zion
And everlasting joy shall be upon their head
Therefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return
And come with singing unto Zion
And everlasting joy shall be upon their head
They shall obtain gladness and joy
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away
Therefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return
And come with singing unto Zion
And everlasting joy shall be upon their head

Everlasting joy.
That is what the prophet promises.
Strange as it may seem
As luxurious as it sounds.
That is the promise – of everlasting joy.

But what about now?
We long for a world where the blind can see, where the deaf can hear, where the lame can leap and the dumb speak.
And of course, when we see those things come to pass, we will rejoice.
How can we do otherwise?

But what about now – in our world as flawed as it is?
What about now, with the burdens and anxieties that weigh us down?
What about now, when we feel the chill of loss or fear the unknown?

How can we experience hope – or peace – far less joy – in daily life?

Maybe, just maybe, that picture of blossoming in the desert might give us a clue as to how joy gets in.
The prophet tells us that the wilderness and the dry land shall be glad and the desert shall rejoice and blossom.
Even in their desolate state, there will come forth something good.

The joy of which the prophet speaks – that joy that comes from God – is not dependant on all the conditions being just right.
But it comes nonetheless.

God does not wait until we have stilled our fears and overcome our anxious thoughts.
God does not wait until we have emerged somehow from our sorrow or loss.
God does not wait until our hearts and lives are ready and fertile.
God bursts in anyway – with an inexplicable joy.

That’s why the image of the crocus blossoming in the desert is such a perfect picture.
After the snowdrop, Crocuses are among the first bursts of hope and colour to appear – sometimes even through the winter snow.
The crocus doesn’t wait until the frosts have gone and the ground is more welcoming.
The crocus simply appears and transforms the landscape.
It’s that kind of transformation that God cultivates in us.
A joy that’s not dependant on external conditions.
A joy that bubbles up despite our heaviness and oppression.
A joy that comes, unbidden, and changes things for us.
Not wiping out tragedy.
Not restoring loss.
Not turning the clock back to better times or rushing us forward to healing.
But a joy that just is – in the midst of whatever challenges
or sorrows afflict us.
Joy.

May you be afflicted this week, whatever your lot in life right now, with that inexplicable joy that God promises.
And may the prophet’s words – of hope, of peace and of joy, bringing healing to your Spirit.
For the glory of God.
Amen.

The magic kingdom

Readings: Isaiah 11 v 1-10

                 Matthew 3 v 1-12


It was tempting, this week, to simply project those images portrayed in Isaiah and let the text – and the images – fire our imaginations and speak for themselves.

For the vision of community portrayed in Isaiah is so compelling and so attractive:

⁶The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. ⁷The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. ⁸The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den. ⁹They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain;

Advent is a time for getting ready, for looking forward to Christmas. But it is also a time for imagining. Imagining what that kingdom that God sent his son to usher in would be like. 
In our reading from Isaiah, we have a picture of that kingdom. 
And what a picture.
Of peace and harmony never seen before.
A peace and a harmony that even goes against nature.
What is it we are preparing for this advent?
We prepare for Heaven touching earth.
The picture Isaiah paints is one of Heaven truly touching earth.
Wolf and lion and lamb and bear and small child – all playing peaceably together.
It is tempting to just stop there, with that image in our heads, with an indulgent smile on our face, tempting just to drink in that vision and long for the day.
But then we read Matthew’s gospel and are called to a very rude awakening.
Because into this picture of peace and calmness romps John the Baptist, trailing his own peculiar form of madness and austerity. 
Demolishing the tranquillity.
Calling us back to reality.
John is heralding, not the baby Jesus about whom we can all get quite sentimental but the man about to begin his ministry.
John is preaching in the wilderness, not about a baby who is to be born, but about a full grown Messiah who is about to embark on a ministry that will change people’s lives.
A ministry that will liberate a people.
And just as John attempted to alert people in the wilderness to the enormity of what Jesus had come to do, so he crashes with just as little subtlety into our Advent preparations and calls on us to wake up.
John the Baptist calls us out of our cosy reverie and confronts us with the stark reality that the baby we prepare to welcome grew to be a man who calls us to a very different way of living.
Calls us not just to imagine that wonderfully perfect kingdom but to do our best to create it alongside God. 
John calls us to hold a mirror to our intentions, to examine our motives in welcoming the Christ child.
To shake off the cosiness, just for a moment and ask ourselves – what is it we think we are welcoming.
Is it a little child who will plaster over the cracks and make everything better?
Or is it the challenger who calls on us to act, who makes demands of us not just to dream but to change?
John the Baptist’s words are very harsh.
He pulls no punches, calling the religious of his day “a brood of vipers”.
He is uncompromising.
Condemning.
But his last words are not words of condemnation.
He speaks boldly and starkly.
But alongside his condemnation, he offers words of hope.
The hope that, if we are ready to look at ourselves, if we are prepared to wake up and shake off our complacency or our romantic notions about Jesus’ birth.
If we are prepared to own how much of a part we play in the injustice that plagues our world, that traps people in poverty, that denies all equal chances.
If we can open our eyes to all that in honesty, then there is hope for us.
And there is hope for our world.
Because the child born in the stable, who grew to launch a challenging ministry offers us a way to join in restoring what he came to establish.
Jesus comes to change our lives.
And to give us hope that we can make a difference.
That that kingdom that Isaiah pictured will one day be a reality.
Heaven comes to earth – that’s what we prepare for in Advent. 
Are we prepared to change to make that a reality?
As we share in the sacrament of communion today, may the grace of God, conveyed through the simplicity of bread and wine bring us hope.
Hope that we can change.
And hope that God’s kingdom can be born in our midst.

 

Hail King Jesus!

Readings: Jeremiah 23 v 1-6

               Luke 23 v 33-43

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

What is a king?
That’s certainly been a topic of discussion this week, with the announcement of the Royal Engagement.
I’m sure some of you are already tired of hearing about it – especially since William and Kate’s engagement was no sooner announced than there was talk of where and when the wedding would be, how soon they would be crowned king and queen and even how soon they would have children.
Not to mention all the commemorative tat that is already being talked of and the anticipated boost in the fortunes of the few remaining Staffordshire pottery businesses.
While, meantime, real news, is shunted from the front pages and the world stops turning.
Not the most helpful or positive portrait of a king.
Today, in the church, we celebrate Christ the King Sunday.
It’s the last Sunday of the church year.
Next week, Advent Sunday, marks the beginning of the new church year when the cycle begins all over again.
Recognising Christ as King seems a good way to end the church year.
So this IS as special day.
As well as celebrating Christ as King, today we mark the beginning of Guild week - The Guild motto – Whose we are and whom we serve – recognises Christ as king.
And we are also asked to mark this week as Prisoners week, reflecting on all those incarcerated at this time and those who serve and minister to them.
Jesus had a very revealing conversation with the two prisoners who were crucified alongside him at Calvary.
Even in the throes of death himself, Jesus threw one of the prisoners a lifeline.
To the prisoner who was repentant, who recognised Jesus for the king he was, Jesus said “Today you will be with me in paradise” 
THAT is the kind of king whose reign we celebrate today.
A king who sees individuals.
A king who has compassion on all who suffer.
A king who extends grace that is truly amazing.
I wonder how many of you can tell me WHO is prisoner number 24601?
Of course, it’s Jean Valjean from Les Mis.
That wonderful show, that’s been doing the rounds over 25years now, sharing wonderful music AND a wonderful story.
The story is set in Paris of the 1830s, amidst poverty and rebellion.
Jean Valjean, having served 19 years in prison for stealing bread, emerges angry and embittered.
His theft of silver candlesticks from a church finds him once again in a brush with the law.
But then, something really stunning happens:
The Bishop ( who could have him locked up again in an instant) gifts the candlesticks to Jean.
JEan is shown a remarkable and totally unexpected act of grace.
Jean Valjean goes on to make something of his life:
He builds a successful business and becomes mayor of his town.
Many folk have come to depend on him.
However, somewhere along the way, he has broken the terms of his parole, the law catches up with him and Jean Valjean becomes, once again, prisoner 24601.
It’s the opposite of that that we see Jesus doing in his encounter with the prisoners executed alongside him.
He raises them from the ranks of common, nameless criminals.
And, out of his grace he promises one of them: You shall be with me in paradise. 

It’s hard to see Jesus as king, when his sovereignty took him to a cross.But the kingship of Jesus confounds all our notions of that role.Jesus is a king who rides a donkey, as we sang earlier.Jesus is a king who frees prisoners and bestows worth on those whom society has written off.Jesus is a king who gives a name to the nameless.
Who kisses lepers.
Who washes feet.
A very different king.

The end of a year is usually a time for taking stock.

And that would be a useful thing to do this Sunday, the last week of the church year.

In case you haven’t noticed, for the past year, our gospel readings have been mostly from Luke.

We’ve followed Jesus through the eyes of the author of Luke’s gospel.

Each of the gospel writers tells the story slightly, sometimes VERY differently.

For Luke, the things that are important about Jesus are:

Jesus’ humanity,

the role of the holy Spirit in the unfolding events of Jesus’ ministry

and the joy of faith.

Luke is keen to emphasise how human this Son of God is from the outset.

Luke emphasises Jesus’ warmth and compassion with stories of how Jesus always had time to stop and interact with the people he encountered.

The Holy Spirit has a huge role in Luke’s telling of events.

Luke wants to make it clear that everything that happens, from the birth of Jesus to his death and then beyond that to the life of the early Christians, Luke tries to show how all this was planned, all this was the unfolding of God’s will.

Joy is also a theme of Luke’s gospel.

IT is clear that, for Luke, faith, once found was a source of excitement and joy.

Following these three important themes for Luke, then, this Sunday we can celebrate in Jesus:

A human king who always has time for others.

A king who is filled with the Holy Spirit, who is part of God’s plan, from the beginning of time.

A joyful king, for whom faith is exciting, never dull.

It is this king that we have been journeying with this past year in the church.

A king who has time for you and for me.

Who gets right in beside us and sticks with us, always holding out grace for us.

A king who sees our place in a bigger picture and who helps us fulfil out part in God’s plan.

A king who never lets things get dull but who keeps on tossing something else our way to lift us and keep us guessing what’s next?

I wonder which of these elements have touched you this past year?

Which aspect of Jesus has been most evident in your life?

Is it the Jesus who has time for you?

Is it the awesome Jesus who reminds you of the unique role you have to play in history.

Or is it the unpredictable Jesus, who keeps things exciting and often fun?

Perhaps it is all three.

But it’s likely that even if we have encountered Jesus this past year, as human and compassionate.

Even if we have been conscious of the working of the Holy Spirit in our lives nudging us to fulfil our unique place in the church and in the world.

Even if we have enjoyed the excitement of faith that always hold surprises this year.

Still it is unlikely that we will have thought much about Jesus as King.

His mirroring of kingship is so unlike any other king we have known or heard about.

From his birth in poverty in a stable to his coronation  with a crown of thorns lifted up on a cross, Jesus is a very unlikely king.

Yet on this last Sunday of the church year we are being asked to hail Jesus as king and celebrate his reign.

Even if all the images are wrong.

Even if he confounds our stereotypes of a king.

Celebrating Jesus reign is something we can happily do today.

For in the reign of Jesus – folk are seen and valued as individuals – each unique, each treasured, each with an important part to play in God’s plan for the world.

Prisoners – of all kinds are given names, not numbers and are freed from whatever it is that binds them and prevents them being whole.

In the reign of King Jesus we are encouraged to find again joy in our faith – a joy that is always new, instead of the old, predictable patterns that we have fallen into.

The Reign of Christ.

All this brings us way back to the beginning of Luke’s gospel – when Jesus set out his stall – and outlined the basics of his kindom:

Jesus said: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me. HE has chosen me to bring good news to the poor, sight for the blind, liberty for the captives – to proclaim that the Kingdom of God is come.

And so we have come full circle.

We have seen, through Luke’s gospel this year, those kingdom values being lived out in Jesus, all the way to his death.

Next week we get ready to take another gospel and begin all over again to welcome Jesus’ birth.

But, today, we celebrate Jesus as king and his reign among us.

We celebrate being part of a kingdom in which WE are valued.

A kingdom in which WE have a part in God’s plan.

A kingdom in which WE are invited into a joyful and unpredictable faith.

that IS a kingdom we want to be part of.

And Jesus’ is a king whose reign we want to celebrate.

So whether the thought of a British Royal wedding leaves you hot, cold or indifferent, today we do have something to celebrate –

A king who counts each of us as special.

A king who calls each of us to play a very important part in the kingdom – a part that only we can play.

A king who promises joy and excitement in the journey of faith.

A king for Guild members and prisoners alike.

A king whose reign depends on you and me playing our part.

So before we begin advent.

Before we get caught up in the Christmas rush this year.

Let’s pause today to celebrate Jesus as king.

Let’s take a moment at this the end of the Christian year to sit with Jesus at the cross before we rush on again to welcome him into the stable.

In the words of Graham Kendrick:

The king is among us, his spirit is here

Let’s draw near and worship, let songs fill the air

And now he is giving gifts to us all

for no one is worthless and each one is called

Our king, lifted up on a cross, was still filled with compassion and freed the prisoner who cried out to him.

Our king promises to be right beside us, helping us to carry  whatever weighs us down today.

Jesus the King knows each of us and calls us by name.

Jesus the king calls us to fulfil the special part that is ours to play in the kingdom.

Jesus the King promises us an unpredictable ride and joy in our faith.

Today, we hail King Jesus.

Amen

Remembrance

Sunday 14th November 2010

Readings: Joshua 11 v 6-9, 21-23

Luke 7 v 1-10

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

The centurion said to Jesus: I, too am a man placed under the authority of 

superior officers, and I have soldiers under me. I order this one go and he goes.

We speak often, in the church, about peace.

Indeed, Sunday by Sunday, we pray for peace.

Repeatedly we condemn war and the horror of war.

And this is entirely appropriate, since Christ has charged His people to be peacemakers in a world that is weary of war.

It concerns me, however, that in our anxiety to find alternative, non violent ways of achieving peace, we alienate our military personnel – the men and women on the front line, constantly preparing for and suffering the consequences of the wars in which our country is engaged. Often, it seems as though we have little to say to the very people who risk and give their lives. 

Soldiers, navy and air crews seem lost in the melee as the church grapples with the huge issues of nuclear war and global peace.

It's time we said something on behalf of our service men and women.

It's time we spoke about peace, not just in political or moral terms, but in human terms as well.

It is time we spoke before God about good soldiers and bad wars.

It would be easy to leap on to the somewhat trendy band wagon of condemning war – as we must – and, in so doing, carry our condemnation to extremes - overlooking those who serve and have served.

Indeed, recently, I was involved in a discussion at the Boys Brigade – the boys were raising money for Holly Bush House, a local facility that cares for military personnel affected by the trauma of war.

A few of the boys wanted their fund raising efforts to be channelled elsewhere because they were opposed to war.

It took some effort convincing them that while non violent resolution of conflict was a goal worth continually pursuing, we still had a duty to those who have served their country.

So how do we maintain that tension?

The tension of holding peace as a state worth striving for and honouring all those who have served and continue to serve their country in war?

We might begin by considering some of the things that draw people into military service - the benefits to be gained by being a soldier.

Peace activists in the church are often too elitist to see this, but for many of our young people, the armed services offer training and a career which they in all probability would not otherwise be offered on civvy street.

When I was at college, I remember vividly talking to a man in a housing scheme in the East End of Glasgow.

It was during the time of the build up to the Falklands war.

This was a young man, with a young family, who had never been employed since leaving school.

A young man who was desperate for war so that he could enlist and give his family a regular income and something to be proud of.

He wanted to go to war to make his family proud.

For many, joining the military is an attractive alternative to joining the ranks of the chronically unemployed.

In the forces, young folk are allowed to realise their potential and their lives are given direction and discipline. They learn habits and lessons in the armed forces which serve them well for the rest of their lives.

It is this sort of discipline that we see in the Roman centurion who talks with Jesus.

In his case, he is a soldier whose military experience has taught him something important about faith.

Picture him as he makes his way towards Jesus and imagine how the crowd murmurs its disapproval.

They don't want this soldier of Caesar anywhere near their Jesus!

But the crowd's disapproval gives way to confusion and then astonishment, because this centurion seems different.

He isn't cursing them and pushing them around as the other soldiers do.

He speaks respectfully, even reverently, to Jesus.

Most incredibly of all: a Roman centurion is calling Jesus, "Lord!"

The centurion said to Jesus: "Lord, I know how Your people hate me. They hate everything I represent; they despise the empire I am sworn to defend. With all the evils of Roman rule, I know I'm not even worthy to ask you into my home! But please, Lord Jesus, my beloved servant is very ill and lies near death. If you would just stand here and say the Word I know he can be healed."

Then the centurion uses his own military background to explain his faith.

He goes on to say, "I am a man under authority with soldiers under me. When I tell them to go, they go and when my superiors tell me to come, I come. So, too, Jesus, can you order my servant to be healed"

The centurion's world is governed by a chain of command. And because this is the world he lives in, this is also how he understands his faith.

Just as a captain has authority over a private and a general over a captain, so, too, does Jesus have authority over all things, seen and unseen.

Jesus is the ultimate Commander-in-Chief.

Simply by issuing the order, He can heal the centurion's servant.

The Roman soldier has learned his faith through the language and lens of the military, but the faith he has learned is nonetheless true.

He has learned that Jesus is Lord, a Supreme Officer to be obeyed.

And Jesus is impressed by this faith.

He says to the centurion, "Not even in Israel have I found such faith. It is done for you, your servant is healed as you believed."

Today, we live in a society which teaches us in so many ways to love ourselves and to "look out for number one." Well, that's not what Jesus taught, is it; and that's not what people learn in the military, either.

Jesus said, "Greater love has no one than this, that he should lay down his life for his friends", and countless soldiers have done just that over the years!

They have thrown themselves on top of grenades, cleared mine fields, covered the flank on a dangerous mission, or in some other way paid the highest price.

They died young, on fields of battle all over the world. They are  examples of courage and self-sacrifice to us today, us with our faith that is "neither cold nor hot"  an example to us who live our faith somewhere between comfort and commitment.

Military personnel have learned important lessons about love and loyalty

 They love each other completely, even with their lives. More so than most Christians, many of our military personnel have the kind of love Jesus talked about.

So, in the church, when we talk of war and peace we ought to recognize the Christ-like values which can be found in our armed forces.

Recognising these values, we might then be compelled to ask - What happens to these military personnel, who have learned such important values?

And the answer is: they are sent to fight in evil wars.

Listen to these words, written by a soldier looking back on his own experience of war:

What kind of war do civilians think we fought, anyway? We shot prisoners in cold blood, wiped out hospitals, killed or mistreated enemy civilians, finished off the enemy who were wounded, tossed the dying into a hole with the dead, boiled the flesh off enemy skulls to make table ornaments for sweethearts or carved their bones into letter openers. Not every British soldier, or even one percent of our troops, committed unwarranted atrocities, and the same might be said for the enemy. But the war necessitated many so-called crimes and the bulk of the rest could be blamed on the mental distortion which war produced... -

The "mental distortion which war produced."

These words were written by a veteran of World WAR II, a veteran of Iwo Jima and Okinawa. He fought in what we often call "the good war, the just war."

In our text from Joshua this morning, we see how wars were fought thousands of years ago.

Israel plundered cities and burned them to the ground. When enemy soldiers ran for their lives, the Israelites tracked them down and slaughtered them.

They killed every man, woman and child they could find. The Bible says that "they did not leave any that breathed"

General Sherman said, "war is hell" and so it is.

Soldiers of every age have known it.

War brings hell to the land, to innocent civilians and to the soldiers themselves.

War is hell.

Some would still argue, even in the face of all the evidence to the contrary, that war might be necessary on occasion, but don't call it "good."

War is always evil.

 Christians who want to justify war often cite texts like this one from Joshua to justify war.

"The Bible is a violent book," they say, "and God is a God of war.

But what about Jesus’ teaching?

And what about all that the Old Testament says about the evils of war and the blessings of peace?

Wherever the Old Testament seems to bless war, there is usually a little clue somewhere to make us stop and think and keep war in a more sober perspective.

Here in Joshua, the clue is in the chariots. When the battle is over, God tells the Israelites to burn the chariots they have captured from the enemy.

Now, why would Israel do that?

At a time when wars were fought hand to hand and on the ground, the chariot was a kind of ultimate weapon, the nuclear bomb of its age, if you will.

It was certainly a great leap forward in the technology of death.

So why would Israel burn these chariots and voluntarily give up an important advantage in the arms race of their day?

They did it to make sure they wouldn't use this new weapon!

To the Israelites of Joshua's day, war was fought under God and God was the nation's security, not the latest weapon.

The minute they trusted in themselves for their defence they were doomed; and this is precisely what happened later, during the age of the prophets.

They acted faithfully with a form of unilateral disarmament.

Of course, chariots became crossbows, crossbows became cannons, cannons became machine guns and machine guns became missiles.

Today, our chariots are called "Strategic Defence," or "Star wars."

Whether we admit it or not, we are just like every other nation on earth in this respect: we find our security in our weapons, not in God.

We pay lip service to God but look to ourselves for strength.

And just like ancient Israel in the age of the prophets, our nation is not eager to hear what God's servants would faithfully say:

Our nation has it all wrong insofar as things military are concerned. We should be celebrating our soldiers and condemning war. Instead, we condemn our soldiers and celebrate war.

Oh, I know we often hear politicians and business leaders praising the courage and sacrifice of our soldiers. But whenever I hear those speeches, I want to cry out in protest, because that is the sound of patriotism and hypocrisy mixed together! How can we as a nation praise veterans one day and then cut their benefits and ignore their problems the next?

It seems we are willing to profit by sending them to war, but unwilling to share our profits with them in peace. And so, they are mistreated and ignored.

This is cynical and callous.

We've got it all wrong.

We hate the good and love what is evil.

We treat our military personnel shabbily and we glory in the profits and passions of war.

Remember the centurion who came to Jesus – and all our serving men and women today.

And remember how, even in its most violent episodes, the Bible does not bless our vision of war.

God's Word requires repentance and a national leap of faith, because it says that righteousness must be our armour, and God our defence, even in a dangerous world.

You will notice a startling and revealing phrase at the end of our text in Joshua. When the long battle is finally over, the text says, "And the land had rest from war."

Israel crushed her enemies with force, but there was no peace for Israel, only a rest from war.

That's all we have ever had in this world: a rest from war. Today, we don’t even have that.

Our patriotic bluster and our lack of real faith in God keep us blind to the paths of peace.

God have mercy on us and on the souls of all the good folk who have died in bad wars. And God have mercy on the soul of our nation. Amen