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I like routine. Above all, on a cold winter’s morning. First, I make coffee for myself and tea for my dear wife. Then I love to stoke the fire. I do that every morning during the winter. We do have central heating, but that’s not where the joy lies. Instead, it’s found in our wonderful log burner that chugs out copious heat all day. It’s especially satisfying during this squeeze on energy prices, because I feed the fire with an endless supply of free wood that comes from the farm where I live. Double joy! Stoking a fire to get it going and the knowledge that we’re controlling our costs. As I placed another log inside the burner the other day, I was struck by the thought that oxygen is to fire what Jesus is to life. Let me explain. In the morning, I notice that embers usually remain in the grate from the night before, gently glowing. I pull them forward, place logs on top, open the vents to allow oxygen in, and hey presto, within minutes the embers turn to flames. If the fire has gone out completely, I must light it afresh, but the essential ingredients are the same: fuel, heat, and oxygen. What a wonderful picture of the life that Jesus brings. Having served as a pastor for most of my life, I’ve been privileged to witness the miracle of new life on many occasions. To sit with someone as they confess their sins and receive new life in Jesus, well, that’s a joy far beyond a morning’s ritual with a log burner. For without Jesus, there is no life. Just as without oxygen, there is no fire. ANOTHER FIRE A while back, my son-in-law and I cleared an area of scrub ground for some building work. We built a fire, piling the branches high, and adding more wood each day with the help of the farm loader. That fire burned for many days, and in fact, it’s still there today. Sometimes you can see a little smoke rising from deep down at the bottom. But it’s not burning very well. The branches sitting on top aren’t being burned at all. The problem? The ash pile down below is blocking the oxygen from getting in. Without oxygen, the fire is smouldering. It’s not really burning. As I looked at it, I saw another picture. How often do we allow ash to pile up in our lives, blocking the oxygen of life? Our busyness, the demands of family life, the pressure to provide, some of these ashes are very understandable. Other ashes are less so—the race for material gain, the pressure to succeed and to be seen succeeding, the fear of failure. When our ‘stuff’ blocks out the oxygen we need—Jesus—we are unlikely to bear fruit. The ‘aroma of Christ’ (2 Cor 2.15) that we desire to be . . . it’s absent. We don’t smell good, because we are cut off from the oxygen that gives us life. How often in ministry is it necessary to stop and draw breath? Breath—that should give us a clue. The breathing in of oxygen that gives us life. Lord Jesus, how we need to come before you in honest repentance and humility. How we need to confess our need for you in the midst of worldly temptations, that suffocate us. Fill us, Lord, with your life, with the breath of your Holy Spirit. BURNING BRIGHT, NOT BURNING OUT I remember a song my mother used to sing to my siblings and me. One of the lines went something like this: “I want to burn out for thee.” Those words used to grate on me. I saw an image of a worn-out, burned-out shell of a person, who had run out of usefulness because they didn’t pace themselves properly. That is not healthy, and that is not right. We are not called to burn out. We are called to burn bright. The last few days of my mother’s life gave me a picture of what that meant. As her days drew to a close, she shone ever brighter, full of Jesus as he called her home. What a joy it was to see, and a comfort to us in our sorrow at her passing. St. Paul writes to the Philippians, “Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life (Phil 15b-16a). My mother shone like a star, and we will never forget her. We read in Matthew’s gospel, You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. Matt 5.14-15 The light of the world? That Christ would describe us in this way is an honor, a privilege, and a calling. For this world is dark. We don’t need to look very far to see just how dark. Certainly, the war in Ukraine reminds us of the darkness, but it is found just as easily in our churches, and indeed at times in our own hearts. Yet, we are the light of the world because Jesus lives within us by his Holy Spirit. The oxygen of life is within us. Every day. So clear away those ashes, and make space for Jesus to fill your body, your soul, your whole being. He is truly the oxygen of life.

No deep thoughts this week. Just a prayer. Won’t you pray it with me? Almighty Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth, Father of our Lord Jesus who once invited all who are weary and burdened to come and receive rest for our souls, we come to you. We pour out our hearts to you. The world feels heavy right now: our own burdens are heavy, the weight of the burdens of the people we love and serve are heavy, and as we look at the news our heart aches with the suffering and injustice we see. It is a weight of grief our hearts, at times, feel too weak to bear, but we look to you. We lay these burdens at the feet of the only one who can bear them. Lord lift our eyes to you: Almighty God. Our maker. Our sustainer. Our help. Our shield. Our joy. Our justice. Our love. Our comfort. Our only hope. We ask for your power in us, by your Spirit, to help us persevere through these days. Strengthen our feeble arms and weak knees that we may continue to run this race well and bring you glory. Where we find ourselves feeling empty, we ask you to fill us. Source of all love, fill our hearts with your love so that we may overflow with love for those you place in our lives and on our hearts. Fill us that we may extend love that is not self-interested to the lost and the needy we see around us – at home and abroad. Help us to act in ways that lift others up, encourage them on, and point them to you. For those of us who are thirsty for peace from the anxiety of this world, we ask you to help us breathe deeply the peace that surpasses understanding, cherishing the ultimate, unshakable peace we have with you through the atoning work of Christ on the Cross. The Cross which declares your justice, mercy, and sovereign plan to our shaky hearts. For those who are alone or feeling lonely today, Lord please draw near. For those of us who feel hopeless and dismayed, captivate us again with a vision of the throne room of heaven, from whence your loud voice will one day declare that all things are being made new. Remind us daily – and even hourly as we need it – that we wait for that day to come when there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain. A day when justice and mercy will reign, and we will finally be with you. Come Lord Jesus. We long for that day. Until then may we proclaim your greatness and walk in faithfulness by the power of your Spirit. Through the precious name of our Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen

The war in Ukraine continues to dominate the newspaper headlines. Rightly so. It is the most important news story of our time. News story. It’s a story. And stories matter. A lot. In fact, in times of war, the narrative matters almost as much as what is actually taking place on the ground. Words seem to have as much power as bombs and bullets. Sometimes more. Indeed, before the conflict started, the argument over narrative was already being waged. In the eyes of some commentators, President Putin’s views on the history of Ukraine and Russia’s relationship to the West were not being taken seriously. Not only that, it was clear that while dialogue was taking place, the two sides simply weren’t hearing each other. The divergent stories created a gulf between Russia and the West. Now that the conflict has begun, the issue is propaganda – the war over who tells the story, and who hears it. Peter Horrocks, the former director of the BBC World Service, has warned that the BBC is losing the “information war” with the Kremlin [1]. Apparently, Russia and China are outspending the West and winning the propaganda war in Europe. I wonder. Maybe. And then there are those reports about fake news. A whole series of videos were released recently showing drone footage and even video game footage allegedly drawn from the actual conflict. Not true. Sadly, the disinformation, once out, is hard to counter. Its effects range far and wide. As the famous saying goes, “The first casualty of war is the truth.” But perhaps the most heart-breaking stories are those that tell of families divided by conflicting narratives. Recently, I read about a woman from Kharkiv, a city that’s been shelled repeatedly in recent days. She called her mother, who lives in Moscow, with news of the attacks, but was met with disbelief. “The Russian army would never fire on civilians. It’s Ukrainians killing their own people,” said her mother. What disturbed the woman most was the way her mother seemed to repeat verbatim a news item from the Russian state media. “They are just brainwashing people. And people trust them,”[2] the woman lamented. I’ve read that in Russia today, any news channel that uses the words ‘war,’ ‘invasion,’ or ‘attack’ faces the prospect of being taken off air for ‘spreading false information.’ I have only visited Russia once—a day spent mostly in Moscow airport—but I have a close friend who has been affected very badly by these competing narratives. She lived in Russia for many years, speaks Russian, and has many close friends there. She writes, “One of the hardest things for me is when friends for whom I have always had the deepest respect, are adamant that Putin’s intentions are pure. If feels like our family is losing a lifetime of friendships because we simply can’t communicate anymore.” My heart breaks for her. If there were ever a time to understand the power of story, it is now. During a war. So why are stories so important? Many reasons. Here are a few. National identity The stories we tell about ourselves create our national identity. I remember one of my professors once said, ‘Without the Exodus, there is no Israel.’ What an interesting observation. The story of God’s rescue is so important to the Jews that without it, they would cease to be a people. Their very identity depends on an historical event. Right now, in Ukraine, they are fighting for their national identity, for their right to survive as a nation. The Ukrainians believe they have a right to live as an independent people, a people with a long and proud history. In July 2021, President Putin wrote a long article in which he claimed that Russians and Ukrainians were ‘one people.’[3] Two stories—completely different, and a war is being fought over which one is correct. (Along with other strategic reasons, of course.) Stories help us make sense of the world The big bang, Copernicus’ discovery that the earth orbits the sun, the theory of evolution, they are about much more than science. Each advance has profoundly impacted how we tell the story of the world, and therefore give meaning to our lives. Just as important is our own creative output, the stories we make up. They help us make sense of the world. All cultures have valued story-telling. Around the campfire, on cave walls, on scrolls, around kitchen tables, in books, on TV and tablets—we have been telling stories since the dawn of time, because they are the means by which we give meaning to the world in which we live. They create order out of chaos. Philip Pullman, the author of His Dark Materials, once wrote, All stories teach, whether the storyteller intends them to or not. They teach the world we create. They teach the morality we live by. They teach it much more effectively than moral precepts and instructions. A story that gives hope If, according to Pullman, all stories teach morality in some form or other, leaders should be familiar with the stories of our culture. They are ‘teaching morality,’ and we are surrounded by them. Leaders should be well informed. More importantly, however—especially during a war—we need to hold onto the one true, big story that gives hope—the Bible. We tell stories not only to make sense of the world, but to give expression to our longings. That’s why the Bible is the foundational story upon which all other stories are based. Every story in which good triumphs over evil, in which justice wins, or a character overcomes adversity, or finds love—every single one is meaningful because it’s informed by the Bible, with God at the centre. Without God, none of these themes make much sense. Yet because God does exist and his story is true, they do. And because of this, there is hope. Because God is alive and he loves us, there is hope. There is hope for the people of Ukraine, and hope for the world emerging from a pandemic. Stories are the means by which we put Humpty Dumpty back together again. They help us deal with the suffering of our world, because they express our most profound desires. For love, for peace, for justice, for significance, for the triumph of good over evil. In Russia, in Ukraine, in our own nation. As leaders, we tell some part of God’s story every Sunday. We’re not explaining laws, or codes of conduct, or giving advice on how to find health and happiness, still less success. We’re helping our people to understand their role in God’s story, and then encouraging them to trust him for the strength, wisdom, and faith needed to play their part well. Take heart from the truth that all our individual stories are connected in this bigger story of God’s work in this world. No one in church this Sunday is outside the story of God’s great love for his people, for his world. Every last person you see this Sunday is playing a part in a story filled with hope. And the end is so magnificent and certain that whatever may happen today can be faced, because God has already written the ending. And wow, it’s a fantastic ending. In fact, it’s the start of a brand new story! 1. https://www.theguardian.com/media/2014/dec/21/bbc-world-service-information-war-russia-today 2. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-60600487 3. https://www.rochester.edu/newscenter/ukraine-history-fact-checking-putin-513812/

You turn on the TV. There sits a celebrity on a bright red couch, telling the audience about her latest movie. The interviewer decides to dig a little deeper, so he asks, “If you had the chance, what would you say to your younger self?” Caught a little off guard, the celebrity then proceeds to offer as much wisdom as rises within her mind. Sometimes, we’re pleasantly surprised by the celebrity’s insight; other times not so much. This question is asked a lot, I think, because we so often regret the missed opportunities of youth. We wish we had made different choices. As George Bernard Shaw once wrote, ‘Youth is wasted on the young.’ (Paraphrase. 1935.) As I was listening to the latest celebrity, aged almost fifty but looking like she was barely thirty-five, I wondered if a better question might be offered: “What might my younger self say to me now that I’m over seventy?” Would my younger self be able to offer any words of wisdom to help me during my final stages of life? I must say, the question brought me up short. NOW, RIGHT NOW In 2002, I left UCCF. As I packed up my things, I sat down with a co-worker (who was also moving on) and we reflected on our time serving university students. We discussed Psalm 137, in which the psalmist looks back nostalgically from exile in Babylon to the glory days in Zion. We prayed that our time at UCCF, as wonderful as it had been, would not be the high point of our Christian lives. We didn’t want to look back and consider our days with UCCF as ‘the best time.’ If we did, we would be robbing ourselves of something immensely valuable. The present. The beauty and wonder of NOW. So the first thing my younger self would say is, ‘Make sure you keep growing and enjoying what the Lord is doing NOW.’ The second thing my younger self would say is, ‘Don’t accept the myths of old age.’ Here are some. You don’t make good friends when you’re older It’s a load of rubbish, isn’t it? This myth needs banishing immediately. We can always make good friends – at any age – and of course we have the opportunity to build on older ones. You’ve earned a rest It may well be true that a person’s energy levels dip a little towards the latter stages of life, but that doesn’t mean we stop contributing. Not at all. We don’t stop following Jesus. And since he always gives us ways to bless people, we are always available to serve him through serving others. The idea that older people have no useful function has no place in the Kingdom of God. Indeed, as the popularity of Richard Osman’s widely read novel, The Thursday Murder Club, demonstrates, the over-seventies seem to have gained a new lease of life within our culture. This band of elderly ‘detectives’ managed to capture the nation’s (UK) heart. Your brain slows up Older people are often more forgetful, that’s true. And technology is moving so quickly nowadays, it’s hard for the older generation to keep pace. However – and it’s a big however – some evidence shows that while the brains of older people don’t retain information quite as well as the young, the information they do retain is used to good effect. In other words, the elderly may be forgetful, but when they remember information, they use it well. Well processed information sounds a lot like wisdom to me. WISDOM OF THE OLD Thirdly, I remember a survey conducted in some Christian care homes. It asked residents what they wished they had done more of. Here are their top three answers: · Read more · Prayed more · Risked more READ - My younger self would say, ‘Take your book with you and take advantage of those down times to read. On the bus, before a meeting, waiting as your spouse browses in M&S!’ PRAY – There’s no question that the pandemic has caused a great deal of harm. However, it has also given some of us the chance to slow down and pray more. To my younger self, I would say, ‘Pray more – with or without lockdown.’ RISK – A while back, the D-Day veteran, Harry Billinge, gave an interview on breakfast TV. He spoke openly about his faith in Jesus, and though he was surrounded by a thoroughly secular environment, the producers didn’t cut him off. He stepped out in faith, and an audience of millions heard his testimony. It was such an inspiration, and for me, it was a reminder that as we get older, we are sometimes given opportunities to ‘break some cultural rules.’ My younger self would say, ‘Go for it!’ Whatever age we are, life is a gift, an opportunity to bless others. The passing of the years may change us, but whether young of old, each day we’re given is full of promise, full of possibilities. So let’s live for God’s glory.

Feeling smug is never a good thing. Pride always ends badly. My eyes roll whenever I hear that kind of thing, but I still fall for it every time. Even as I type, I’m emerging from my latest lapse. According to my NHS Covid-19 app, I only need to self-isolate until 23:59 tonight. The neighbours had better watch out at midnight! My point is that I was feeling pretty pleased with myself for having steered clear of the dreaded lurgy. I’m naturally a conformist who loves rules and sticks to them religiously. I’d worn my mask and kept my distance. I’d never quite understood why the social distancing rule was only two metres when five would so obviously have been better! People were tumbling like nine-pins all around me, but I’d remained fit and well – until ten days ago, that is. Symptom-free and super confident, I took yet another lateral flow test. It was just a routine matter, another example of keeping the rules. But that morning, something changed. Not only then but every morning since, those two red bars have mocked me from that horrid little device. I used to love the letter T; it stood for tasty . . . tender . . . tranquil . . . trifle . . . and tenofthose! I can assure you I’ve now changed my attitude towards that terrible character! But before I go off the deep end completely, let me stop and reflect. What have I learned from the last ten days when food has been lovingly slid under the door of my cell, and Pippa (my wife) and I have shared our daily devotions on WhatsApp? Quite a lot, actually. For a start, I’ve learned a bit more about patience. It neither reflects well on the Lord Jesus, nor makes Pippa’s life any easier if I throw a wobbly every time I test positive. I’ve been wonderfully reassured that my standing before my Heavenly Father has not been diminished by the fact that I’m not allowed outside just now. Above all, I’ve been reminded I’m not the hero in this particular drama. I came to this realisation recently as I read Jesus’ Freedom Manifesto in Luke 4. Just to remind you, the Lord Jesus has come back to his home town, Nazareth. On the Sabbath day, he attends the synagogue – as usual. As he stands up to read the Scriptures, the scroll of the prophet Isaiah is handed to him. Unfurling it, he turns to the passage we’ve come to know as Isaiah 61, where it is written: The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour. The Jewish rabbis interpret this passage in distinctly Messianic terms – and the people know it. So we can only imagine their profound shock as the Lord Jesus boldly applies it all to himself. He is the Messiah who has come to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour. As I read, what struck me with unusual force was the way I align myself with Jesus, the Spirit-anointed Saviour whose job it is to rescue people. Forgive the ridiculous delusions of grandeur, but I was powerfully reminded that this is not the case. My place is among those who are rescued – the poor, the prisoners, the blind and the oppressed. At first, this realisation came as a bit of a let-down. I mean, deep down, which of us doesn’t yearn for the starring role? On further reflection, however, I discovered that rather than being disappointing, this realisation was truly liberating. God’s unfolding drama of grace doesn’t depend so much on my performance as on the Lord Jesus’. Since then, I’ve discovered that Luke 4 isn’t the only place where my role needs reversing. I do it all the time as I read the Bible. I often follow the stories of Moses, David, and Paul, and instinctively insert myself into the role of the hero. Hmm . . . what’s wrong with this picture?! So, where does the Lord Jesus leave me in Luke 4? With two distinct roles, both of which I am qualified to perform really well – as a worshipper and as a witness. WORSHIPPER In relation to the Lord Jesus, I’m a worshipper. I owe today’s wealth and well-being . . . and tomorrow’s new-found freedom entirely to him, and to the Father who sent him. I fulfil a number of roles in this life – husband . . . father . . . grandad . . . cheer-leader to the elders of our church. And the way I exercise these roles will change over time. But here’s one role that will never change – not even in eternity. I am and will always be a worshipper. Through the gospel, I’m adopted into God’s family . . . I enjoy forgiveness of sins . . . I’m gloriously free from guilt and the curse of God’s Law . . . I have received the gift of the Spirit . . . I have a new heart and new desires . . . I look forward to a home in God’s new creation. And I owe it all to the One through whom I have redemption. As the old hymnwriter puts it, Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven, Who like me his praise should sing! So, in relation to the Lord Jesus, I’m a worshipper. WITNESS In relation to the world around me, however – my family . . . my friends . . . my neighbours, I’m a witness. Who better to reach the blind than someone whose sight has been restored? Who better to reach a captive than someone who has discovered the joy of being set free? I suspect the two roles are intimately connected. Shouldn’t worship always lead to witness? When I experience something I really enjoy, isn’t the icing on the cake to tell someone about it? My enjoyment is never quite complete until I’ve been able to share it with someone else. That’s why the Psalms are full of exhortations to proclaim among the nations what the LORD has done. The best witnesses are worshippers. When I’m full of joy in God, it doesn’t take much to see why I’ll attract people to the Lord Jesus. When godly joy is replaced by the relentless burden of ministry, or the frustrations of outrageous fortune, the attraction soon disappears. So, as a recovering Covid junkie, let me encourage you. The church families we serve don’t need us to be their hero – the Lord Jesus fills that role perfectly. But they are well served when they see in us Spirit-inspired worshippers and Spirit-empowered witnesses.

It's an exciting month for us here at Living Leadership as two of our staff team celebrate the publication of new two books designed to equip the Church. In this week's blog, we wanted to share these books with you in the hope that they can help you grapple with these important topics. Powerful Leaders? When church leadership goes wrong and how to prevent it Marcus Honeysett How do Christian leaders end up abusing power, even though many begin with good intentions? More importantly, how can we prevent it? Powerful Leaders? exposes and explores how people in positions of authority can be tempted away from a biblical model of leadership into an illegitimate – and, in the worst cases, abusive – use of power. Drawing on his years of experience working with leaders and congregations, Marcus Honeysett traces how those in power in the church can move along a spectrum of healthy to unhealthy uses of authority and position and offers practical wisdom to prevent this from happening. Whether you are in leadership or in a position to hold leaders accountable, this book will challenge and equip you to be more aware of the dynamics of power – and enable you to take the necessary steps forward to create healthier church cultures in which everyone can thrive. We are also pleased to make available an Audit of Abuse of Power that accompanies the book. For more information and to buy your copy, visit the publisher's website. Serving Two Masters Probing the tensions between science and faith in the art of healthcare by Paul Coulter Modern, scientific medicine has been a wonderful gift to mankind. Yet it is in danger of forgetting the art of medicine, which is vital for the well-being of both healthcare professionals and those they care for. ​ Setting out the case for an integrative approach to healthcare Serving Two Masters? argues for a thoroughly scientific, yet faith-filled approach to clinical care. Dealing with common misconceptions about the relationship between faith and science, Paul Coulter argues that the Christian worldview is an excellent foundation for healthcare. For more information and to buy your copy, visit the publisher's website.

“We need more volunteers.” How many times have you heard that? Too many, probably. Volunteer – now there’s an unhelpful word. If I could, I would eliminate it altogether from conversations in church. The word ‘volunteer’ suggests there are professionals and . . . well, the rest of us. The volunteers. First, that misrepresents the reality of God’s new society, in which all of us are participating in his kingdom. All equally valued. All equally loved. All equally important in our different ways. Splitting people into ‘staff’ and ‘volunteer’ communicates something very unhelpful. When we talk about what ‘the church’ is going to do, most people think about the professionals. Leaders. Administrative staff. Those on the payroll. “Why isn’t the church doing more for these people?” That means, “Why aren’t the paid staff focusing more on this need?” That needs to stop. We could start by avoiding the term ‘volunteer.’ Think of other words. Perhaps choose a theme? It doesn’t much matter, as long as that odious word, ‘volunteer,’ is avoided. Why do I dislike it? Because words have power. If I’m a volunteer, I’m helping others do their jobs. I’m helping the paid staff. No, you’re not. You’re as vital to the work as anyone who happens to earn a salary. If I’m a volunteer, then I can leave when I want to, because well, after all, I’m a volunteer. I’m here as long as I want to be, and then I’ll leave. Splitting us all into these two groups downgrades my importance and therefore discourages real commitment. Finally, by characterising everyone unpaid as a volunteer, we downplay the many gifts we each bring to the work. For example, instead of appreciating the variety of hospitality gifts on offer – each person with their own distinctive array of skills and talents – we end up just looking for volunteers to serve the coffee, do the clean-up, welcome the guests. When people become the means by which we solve our problems, that’s a very bad sign. No one is ever, ever just a volunteer. Our church members don’t fill our rotas, they don’t solve our problems, they are people offering their gifts and talents to the Lord. So how do we build up the builders? How do we create a vibrant, committed, growing community, filled with people finding joy in serving God? Encouragement. This is a no-brainer, of course, but it’s easier said than done. Encouragement must be tailored to the individual. It must be specific and well timed to suit the person serving. In short, it is best when it’s Spirit-led. Remember The Wizard of Oz? The wizard, although a charlatan, does something remarkable when he speaks to the tin man, the scarecrow and the lion. He identifies their need to be valued. He puts his finger on the thing they want the most and then he gives them an appropriate symbol. Tin man – a ticking heart. Lion – medal. Scarecrow – diploma. The symbol tells them, ‘I know you. I know how you tick, who you are.’ So when they receive their symbol, their hearts surge within them. You can do the same. You can tailor your encouragement to the person, so they feel valued. It takes a bit of thought, but the benefits are enormous. You will create life-long, committed followers. Empowerment. This is a buzz word nowadays, and easily misunderstood. It’s hard to get it right. To empower those who serve in church, we must do more than pay lip service to their role as leaders. We have to let go. We must allow them to make choices we don’t like, and sometimes fail. Micro-management kills the spirit. Equip your people with skills – or ensure they receive training – and then release them to lead their teams. Because once they feel ownership of the ministry over which they exercise leadership, they will give it the kind of commitment it needs. That won’t happen if you keep interfering. So let go. Please let go. It’s how you build up the builders. My third ‘e’ could be ‘equip,’ but that’s so large a topic, it’s worth a post all of its own. Instead, let’s end with ‘recognise and celebrate.’ This is where leaders walk a tight-rope. Because for every person we recognise and thank publicly, there are others who aren’t recognised. Caught between a rock and a hard place? Not easy. Also, when we celebrate our own people too much, we’re accused of navel-gazing, telling ourselves how wonderful our church is. I don’t have answers to this, I’m afraid. However, there are ways we can recognise and thank our people for their service, without holding a big ceremony on a Sunday morning. This last point is really just an expansion of the first one – encouragement. If we want to build up the builders, then we must start by thinking of them as precious children of God, who carry God’s image in their own unique way. People achieve great things when they’re loved and valued. They dig deeper when they know they’re part of something bigger than themselves, and those who lead them appreciate their service. Something bigger? To be called into God’s kingdom, well, there isn’t anything else that comes close. We are taking part in the greatest project in human history, and our gracious God is with us. All of us. We have a huge bag of wonderful resources in God’s Word to encourage our people. So be encouraged as you build up the builders.

The rooftop helicopter rescue. You’ve seen it in the movies. Our heroes are trapped on a rooftop, needing rescue. A helicopter lowers a rope and our heroes jump to it and hang on. The helicopter veers away, our heroes dangling precariously from the rope. As dramatic music plays, the helicopter flies above the burning city. At any moment, our heroes may collide with a burning building, but the pilot is skilled. Very skilled. Our heroes are saved. That’s Romans 5.10. For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life! Romans 5.10 Somehow, we need to rescue salvation. Because it’s got stuck in the past, and for some, it’s losing its power. Stuck in the past? Well, yes, stuck in the past. Two thousand years ago. We’ve all preached the gospel and heard the gospel. Christ died for sins, once for all. It’s as familiar and as comfortable as an old sweater. In fact, it’s so familiar that we sometimes forget how it comes across. We have a sin problem. To fix it, Christ died around two thousand years ago. We trust in Christ, and are saved. Job done. The thing is, the Bible never presents salvation as some kind of one-time fix-it. It’s far more nuanced. It’s richer and deeper and is not offered to counter our fears. Sometimes I think believers are terrified of the bad place and salvation’s primary role is to calm our fears that we’ll end up there. Phew. I avoided something terrible. Biblical salvation, however, is about a lot more than avoiding judgement. If we see it or present it primarily in terms of avoiding a certain fate, our church members will remain stuck back in Palestine, clinging to a Roman cross two thousand years ago. To all intents and purposes, they will stay dead. They need resurrection. Resurrection. Every day. In Romans 5.10, Paul leads us to life. He doesn’t leave us at the cross, but completes the story, ending with life. We’re taught that Christ saves us through his life. Reconciled by his death, yes, but saved by his life. How fascinating. We tend to say that Christ saves us by his death, but here, Paul’s focus is on Christ’s resurrected life. As a glorified Saviour, he saves his people. He is the helicopter pilot who holds us securely as we go through the dangers of the world. Each and every day, we are being saved by the immense power and faithfulness of the resurrected Son of God. That’s about our daily lives and his faithfulness to live in us. Live in us. It doesn’t get more Pauline than that. We have a profound spiritual connection with our Saviour. His letter to the Galatians comes to mind. I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. Galatians 2.20 So, a word to the wise. Never let your people think of salvation as a one-time “avoid judgement” experience. It is so much more than that. It is about life. It is about Christ living within us, experiencing the power of his resurrection within us as we face the challenges of life. As we live to bring him glory each and every day. For this we are saved. Saved for, not just saved from. Saved for the purpose of bringing God glory. Saved and held by our living Lord who rules the heavens. Saved each day by our helicopter pilot whose connection with us is absolutely secure. Though the city burns all around us, his power holds us securely. To his glory.

A Prime Minister once went to a party. Sorry, I’ll try that again. A Prime Minister once went to a work event . . . My apologies. Couldn’t resist. 😀 Hypocrisy is one of those words that generates an immediate visceral response. Sometimes defensiveness. Sometimes fear. Sometimes judgementalism. It’s a hot word in the New Testament – one of those that produced strong emotions in Jesus. Oh, he was ticked when he saw it. Incensed. Table-smashing furious. But what is it about this word that caused such an irate response? For Jesus, this was all about his love for the people. He enjoyed hanging out with people who ‘didn’t fit.’ He preferred scruffy sinners to salubrious saints. He wanted everyone to know that God was accessible, and that God was for them. The religious were preventing the people from understanding this. They were putting up unnecessary barriers which kept the poor and the lowly out of the religious life of the nation. Shame on them! Hence the anger. Righteous anger. The word hypocrisy is based on two Greek words – hupo, meaning ‘under,’ and krino, meaning ‘to judge.’ The idea is that a person is offering judgement from behind something. From behind a mask. Their true identity is kept hidden. In short, the person is pretending. Matthew 23 is an oft-quoted text on hypocrisy. Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples: “The teachers of the law and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat. So you must be careful to do everything they tell you. But do not do what they do, for they do not practice what they preach. They tie up heavy, cumbersome loads and put them on other people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them. Matthew 23.1-4 Notice those loads he mentions. They are additions to the law, developed over time by Jewish rabbis and commentator, seemingly in a misguided attempt to ensure that the requirements of the law were followed. Essentially, they were extra laws, and they alienated the people from God instead of drawing them close. Which is why Jesus was so upset. The question for us is this: As leaders, do we create non-biblical conditions in our churches that make it hard for people to approach God? Do we impose unspoken rules and cumbersome cultural norms on our community? We may think we’re all about authenticity and inclusivity, but in reality, ALL cultures (groups) have rules. It’s just that we’re not honest with ourselves about what they are. For those who minister in middle class settings, there are a whole raft of expected behaviours, which, if departed from, will cause all manner of tut-tutting. The way we dress, the language we use, the way we run meetings, the way we greet each other, all these things are part of our culture. They cannot be avoided. So how can we avoid hypocrisy, the kind of hypocrisy that excludes people? 1) Grace of God 2) Variety 3) Equip and release Grace must characterise how we live and how we relate. Not law. Grace. If God loves and accepts us, then we will, at times, need to forgive and accept those who contravene our social norms. Without making a big fuss. Law-keeping (following our cultural norms) is not the heart of our Christian gospel. Grace is. Unmerited love and favour from our gracious God is the jewel in our crown. Celebrate it, explain it, invite its wonder to fill your people with praise. Church cultures are homogenous when we all look the same, behave the same, talk the same way. So, the more variety – class, race, socio-economic, nationality – the better. In all areas of ministry. This new society of which we’re a part, it includes all people who love and follow the Lord Jesus. From the scruffy ex-addicts to the university professors. In truth, not all churches have a wide variety of backgrounds, but the more open we can be to ALL people, the richer our experience of community will be. Equip and release people to lead out of grace. These won’t always be the best communicators, they won’t always look right or sound right, but we enrich our communities when the ones who’ve experienced the deep impact of God’s Spirit share fully in all areas of ministry. Spirit-led people, not just those who tick the cultural boxes. It may be messy at times, but if grace is the highest value we have, then God will be praised as we navigate the challenges ahead. The alternative is a straitjacketed, law-driven approach to communal life. We’ve all seen this, and many are surrounded by it. Bound tightly by a church community’s strict expectations. Imprisoned. Not free. We become hypocrites when we talk about grace, but we don’t actually live it out. We are hypocrites when we value cultural rule-keeping above the expression of God’s extravagant grace. But here’s the good part. The leader is a trend-setter in this respect. The way we mix with every kind of person in the church – not just the popular ones – the way we invite all manner of people to give presentations and testimonies – not just the polished – these behaviours will tell your people what they need to hear . . . God’s grace is available to everyone! He loves you, all of you, and he doesn’t care where you’re from or how talented you are, or what job you have, or your strange wardrobe. He certainly doesn’t expect you to be the finished article. The pharisees may have placed obstacles in front of people which blocked them from connecting with God. Are you listening, everyone? In this church, that will never, ever happen! God’s grace, his compassion, his love, is freely available to ALL who draw near. You know what, he’s even gracious towards hypocrites!

Believe statements about me. Believe in me. Believe me. ~ Jesus. Which is he most interested in? Which one are you most interested in? I completed an outline of John’s gospel once, which highlighted the words and phrases most commonly used by the author. Two words/phrases stood out: • Eternal life • Believe John is very focused on belief. The Lord calls for belief frequently in John’s telling of the story. And of course, what is a worldview/religion/thought system but a set of beliefs? Without beliefs, there is no Christianity. That’s why the church has produced numerous creeds – sets of beliefs. When you think about it, we live out our most deep-seated beliefs, whether we’re aware of them or not. Many people don’t think deeply. They just live. But the choices they make are, in fact, driven by their beliefs. About themselves, others, the environment, family, work, and God (among others). For Christians, beliefs are central to our identity. We are Christians, in part because we hold to common beliefs about Jesus, the Bible, our purpose and destiny as God’s people. So far, so good. Does it make a difference what we believe? Yes, very much, which is why accumulating true beliefs about God is so important. But there’s a problem here. The Bible is clear that simply holding true beliefs isn’t enough. It’s not nearly enough. Take, for example, James’ teaching on faith and works. You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that—and shudder. James 2.9 For James, belief means nothing without works. Faith without works is dead. My concern is different. I think we sometimes focus too much on accumulating beliefs about God, and we don’t spend enough time learning how to believe God according to Jesus’ use of the term in John’s gospel. Pistis – belief/faith. Think of your average sermon. A great deal of time is spent explaining the meaning and the consequent beliefs we should hold that arise from the verses. So we increase our knowledge of what the passage says about God and ourselves. This is good and right. It’s essential that we increase our knowledge of God through reading his Word and listening to good teaching. Nothing wrong with that. However, if that’s all we do, or if we value the accumulation of true beliefs as our primary goal, then we’ve misunderstood Jesus’ use of belief in John’s gospel. These true beliefs we’re gathering aren’t “belief” as taught or encouraged by Jesus. At least not in John’s gospel. Just believing that something is true leaves us no better off than the demons. Instead, Jesus is talking about the combination of both belief and faith (pistis entails both.) Trust. Surrender. Belief in the statement, “Christ is Lord” is useless unless a person lays down his/her life before God, acknowledging that Christ is Lord. During the pandemic, some of us have become painfully aware that mere belief gets us nowhere. Indeed, simply affirming statements we hold to be true has no power to tackle our fears. So while we have become very capable of assembling beliefs, we often struggle when it comes to living as true believers – people who actually believe Jesus when he says “Do not fear. Trust me.” Christ looks not simply for people who believe that he is there, or believe truths about him. Not even stating “Christ is Lord” is sufficient. He seeks people who truly believe him, when he says “I am Lord. Trust me.” We need both to believe in him, and believe him when he speaks. That’s a relationship of trust. As leaders, that’s one of our goals – to partner with God in developing worshippers, people who don’t simply assemble beliefs, but exhibit faith, surrender, trust – words that come under the meaning of the Greek word pistis. That’s the core of our faith. An intimate relationship with our God, based on faith. Whole-hearted dependence, surrender, trust, involving our entire lives – our health, our families, our finances, everything. Absolutely everything. We will be measured, all of us, not by the number of true beliefs we assemble, but by a life of faith. If, on arrival in heaven, we confess that we had no idea what the book of Numbers was about, threw up our hands in despair when reading Ecclesiastes, ranted with the psalmist, and collapsed in a heap after reading Revelation . . . But . . . we have held firm during times of trouble, we have trusted in God’s promises, we have lived a life of surrender and trust . . . then we might arrive in heaven with a paltry number of true beliefs compared to our neighbour, yet still be greeted with the words “Welcome home, good and faithful servant!”

There is a hidden wound in your congregation. There are many hidden wounds. They reside inside the hearts of parents whose children no longer follow Jesus. Few mention the wound – that’s why it often stays hidden – but it festers and lingers; it never goes away. It hurts. In fact, it may hurt more than most physical ailments. Because it hurts deep down in the soul. So, the uncomfortable truth: The world is stealing and deceiving our children. And no matter what we do, some of them depart the faith never to return. So painful is this truth that we rarely, if ever, mention it in church. It used to be the case that parents with children who identify as ‘gay’ never mentioned their children’s sexual orientation. Nowadays, telling your friends that your son or daughter is gay is more likely to evince a compassionate and understanding response. But the kid who went right through Sunday school and the youth work only to abandon the faith? That is something barely to be acknowledged. So, first, the pain itself. It is many and varied, of course, but normally falls into two categories. Shame and its close ally, guilt. They arise from the truth that in spite of years of thoughtful parenting, your child has walked away from all the beliefs you hold as foundational to life. How has this happened? The self-recrimination floods you along with a barrage of questions to which you have unsatisfactory answers. What did I do wrong? What could I have done differently? Why didn’t God protect them? Will they go to heaven? What am I supposed to do now? The pain of a shattered family and all its attendant consequences. First, the awareness that God, whose goodness and mercy are boundless, and who provides all we need for life and happiness, is no longer a part of my child’s life. How do I share the most important aspect of my life with my beloved child, who no longer believes? Can I pray at mealtimes anymore? How do I pray for them? God, will you still take care of them? Will you have mercy on them? And yet we don’t talk much about this in church, do we? We just suffer in silence. What can I offer you today as a leader who shepherds a flock perhaps full of such people? Acknowledge it. How and when, I cannot say, but as with so many things that bring us shame, uncomfortable truths are more manageable when they’re openly discussed. Stop worrying about offending people, or causing discomfort, and focus instead on the faithfulness and promises of God. He never leaves us nor forsakes us, and when all seems lost, he rises from the dead. Pastoral care. Offer opportunities to those who wish to process this particular challenge. The church is both a mission agency and a hospital. (Among other metaphors.) Teach on it. Check back here on the Living Leadership blog page for a post entitled “God has no grandchildren.” In this later post, I address how to encourage and support those who suffer with this hidden wound, but today, it’s enough simply to call it out. So, I will leave you with some questions to ponder. How am I currently ministering to those with this hidden wound? Do I need to make changes in how this “wound” is addressed in my church? If so, what changes should I make? Discuss this with God. Whom do I know who struggles with this challenge? How can I pray for them? How can I encourage them? As you minister to those who bear this burden, here is a Scripture to pass on. It’s a reminder of the faithfulness of God. Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” - Psalm 91.1-2

A few weeks back, I wrote about the hidden wound. (See post here.) The pain inside parents whose children no longer believe is widely felt throughout the church. So, how should a leader respond? Last time, I mentioned shame. Let’s start there. And let’s start with a well-known verse in Proverbs. Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it. Proverbs 22.6 Many now understand (correctly) that the book of Proverbs does not contain promises. Instead, it contains general wisdom for how to live life before God. Nevertheless, a verse like Prov. 22.6 lingers. It may not be a promise, but it seems to give the impression of a quid pro quo. I do this, God gives me that. Even though the thinking is flawed, it crawls into many parents’ souls. So, when a child goes “prodigal,” it hurts. Some of the pain can be traced to incorrect beliefs buried inside a parent’s heart. One of the most serious has to do with control. The newborn arrives looking beautiful, and vulnerable. In those first few days, the babe depends on you for everything. Absolutely everything. Housing. Food. Clothing. Warmth. Affection. Voice. Touch. Warmth. Ablutions. Later, the dependency decreases, but it’s still there. Toys. Travel. More clothing. More food. Sports. More affection. And it’s not just the provision of physical things. It’s the vast number of decisions that parents make for their kids – the friends they visit, the food they eat, the clothes they wear, the church they attend, the books they’re read, the holidays they take, it’s all supervised by the parent. So, when it comes to faith, why not add it to the list? No wonder when a child becomes a teenager, the paradigm shift is hard to take. The move from decision-maker to advisor wrong-foots many. No longer can we tell our child what to do and enforce our will. Now we must make suggestions, and the thing is, when it comes to faith, that’s tremendously difficult. Because we’re not really suggesting Jesus. We’re preaching him. We’re sharing him. We long, from the bottom of our hearts, to instil belief and trust in our children. So, when it seems he’s not enough for our 18-year-old, that hurts. It hurts deeply. We feel like we’ve lost control. And that’s an illusion. It’s a massive error in our thinking. Because we never really had any control in the first place! When it comes to faith, the idea that parents can control the beliefs of their children is simply false. It was false when they were toddlers, it was false as they grew up, and it is still false once they’re fully grown. How does an awareness of this flawed thinking help a parent grieving over a “lost” child? Well, it encourages us to change how we think about our children. And about God himself. He seeks primarily a relationship of trust. He calls us to trust him, and when we mistakenly believe that we can control our children’s beliefs, we display both pride and a lack of faith. Any parent who believes that a child’s beliefs can be controlled has attempted to usurp the place of God. And when we despair, we display hidden fears about the trustworthiness of God. We doubt his care. That’s why this issue does – and it certainly should – bring us to our knees in repentance and faith. The second step is the need to examine the source of the shame. If it’s embarrassment which arises within church culture, then that’s to do with our own respectability. Ashamed to own up to the reason your children aren’t in church with you during the holidays? That’s about appearances, and must be immediately discarded. Respectability has no place in a Christian community. Such shame is based in law, not grace. It’s rooted in our pride and must be confessed. If a parent is ashamed, however, because they feel they could have done a better job as a parent, that is something completely different. If there is guilt related to workaholism, harsh discipline, lack of discipline, emotional distance, poor conflict resolution – the list goes on – then it’s time to seek forgiveness and perspective. We don’t live backwards, we live forwards. There is nothing to be gained by carrying our guilt and shame through life. We cannot change the past. Instead, we must take solace and comfort from the truth that God is gracious towards us. And he continues to be faithful and good. Indeed, his servants seem to have lived lives of spectacular parenting failure. From Abraham to Isaac, Jacob, David and many others, the characters in the Old Testament display remarkable parenting incompetence. Yet God rarely condemns them for their poor parenting. Instead, he deals directly with each one of them. He blesses each patriarch and leader, because he chooses to bless them. He never, ever, makes the blessing of their children contingent on their behaviour. He never, ever, does that. Each patriarch is responsible for the life of faith he lives. He does business directly with his God.* That’s why God has no grandchildren. He only has children – people of faith who deal directly with him. Our children, therefore, must approach God directly. They cannot live their faith vicariously through us, their parents. Intimacy with God is available directly. Not only do they not need a priest, they don’t need a parent either. Their heavenly father loves them and invites them to draw near. They approach the throne of grace just as we did when we came before the Lord to seek forgiveness and find new life. When a parent feels shame over the loss of their child’s faith, four truths may be of comfort to them. A child’s choice not to follow Jesus is not an indictment of their parents. It just isn’t. It is not a cause for shame. God’s love for our children never stops. His love endures forever. God is faithful. We must entrust our children into his care, because he is trustworthy. Do not despair. God feels this particular pain, just as we do. When did you last read Genesis 3, and consider the pain inside the Father’s heart? His beloved children, his image-bearers, rebelled. They rejected their creator. From before the creation of the world, God knew this would happen, but he had yet to live it. And when he did, it must have hurt more intensely than we will ever know. God not only knows of our pain, he lives it every day. For though billions rebel and turn away, he continues to love them with an everlasting love. Parents whose children have departed the faith are not alone in their suffering. They are cared for by a Father who knows their suffering intimately. And he is faithful. * By contrast, God treats the nation as a whole quite differently. See Deut. 28 for a list of blessings and curses, many of which find their fulfilment in the history of Israel and Judah.