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“Happy New Year!” How many times will you hear or read those words in the next few weeks? And there’s that tricky question of when we should stop wishing people happiness and revert to more generic greetings? When is a year no longer new? Perhaps more fundamentally, what do we actually mean when we call a year “new”? The dictionary definition of “new” gives us three options. 1) Something that never existed before that has its beginning. That is certainly true of a “new year.” 2022 has never happened before. Time, at least as we experience it, moves sequentially from one moment to the next. There is past and there is future. Sandwiched between the two is the irreducible – and scarcely definable – moment we call “the present.” As God’s people, we receive each moment as a gift from him to experience and use. A sequence of time to be redeemed (Eph 5.16). A series of opportunities to make the most of (Col 4.5). We must be careful, though, to remember that one in seven of these days is given to us as a Sabbath to rest and enjoy God’s person and gifts. Those moments are not ours to use, but his to shape us. Making the most of every precious moment does not mean slavery to the clock, but joyful servanthood to the Lord of the years. So, how will you use the gift of 2022? 2) Something that has existed for some time, but has recently become ours. If I say, “I’ve got a new outfit,” I don’t mean the clothes are new in the first sense of the word. They existed before I bought them. Instead, they’re new to me. This second sense of “new” isn’t exactly true of a new year, but it is how we experience time. Each day comes to us, and we must make it our own. As we reflect on each day, we build memories and seek understanding. As people who trust in God’s providence, a new year is a reminder that God has a purpose for us in it. This year is new not only because it hasn’t happened before, but because God has new things in store for us. New ways and times to know him and to make him known. New aspects of his character to discover. Whatever priorities we might have for our use of time, a critical one is to embrace the truth that all experiences – both good and bad – are wrapped in God’s grace and underpinned by his goodness. So, what will you learn from God in 2022? 3) Something that gives a fresh beginning to something old. If you manage to keep your resolutions to lose weight and get fitter by Spring 2022, you might describe yourself as a “new man” or a “new woman.” It’s a way of saying that you are making a fresh start. What was old has been transformed, and something new is here. A new year can be new in that sense too. Perhaps you’re sincerely hoping 2022 will be new in this sense, especially if 2021 was tough for you, as it was for so many. As we reflect on the challenges of 2021 and the continuing uncertainty about the pandemic, the wish for a happy new year may sound hollow. You may long for this new year to be different, but you may be too weary to feel it as more than wishful thinking. Yet, whatever 2022 brings, there is no question that it will change you. You won’t be the same person on 31st December 2022 as you were on 1st January. That’s true physically (just take a look at those old photos!) but it is true for our character too. The big question is whether you’ll change for the better or the worse. Will you drift further from God and become less like his Son, or will you draw close and be transformed a little more into his likeness? There may be new things to learn about God this year, but there are certainly old things you already know that need to be rediscovered. So, how will you be renewed in God in 2022? As we begin a new calendar year, then, we should pause and pray that 2022 will be new in each of these senses: That we will cherish and use the rhythm of our lives – including rest – for God’s glory. That we will encounter the Lord afresh this year, in new ways that give us hope and strength to serve him well. That we will be transformed by our God so that each new day, we are empowered both to see him clearly and to serve him faithfully whatever challenges we face.

Got a Christmas sermon to deliver? Let me guess. Have you tried some of these? Manger birth – lessons in humility. Which king do you serve? Contrasting Herod and Christ. Shepherds – more humility, perhaps marginalisation. Mary – faithful servant. Joseph – walking by faith. The Magi – a gospel for the whole world. Immanuel – God with us. This year, what about this verse? Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. Luke 2.11 It’s as familiar as an old slipper, isn’t it? Allow me to zero in. Saviour. Christmas as a rescue operation. If you google The Rescue, you’ll find an award-winning National Geographic documentary. The Rescue tells the story of the 2018 rescue of a boys’ football team and their coach from the flooded Tham Luong cave system in Northern Thailand. It’s a tale of desperation, despair, hope and unbounded joy. It’s also a story about the triumph of the human spirit. The sheer dogged determination of those who risk their lives for the sake of boys they have never met, well, it’s awe-inspiring. And then there’s the story of a band of Chilean miners trapped underground in 2010 for 69 days. You may remember the Christian element to this story. Many were believers, led in their prayers by one of the miners, Mario Gomez. It’s worth checking out the movie, The 33. Nevertheless, there is a slight problem with the rescue theme. It smacks more of Easter than Christmas, and that’s understandable. But that’s not the main issue. It’s that we so often jump straight from the babe in the manger to a Roman crucifixion, completely omitting the importance of Christ’s earthly life. As wonderful as the atonement may be, it is drained of its power if Christ is just a body on a cross. He must be a Saviour, and to be a Saviour, he absolutely has to live a human life. And that brings us to Christmas, to the last theme above. Immanuel. God with us. The Lord Jesus lived with us. Among us. I read an article recently in which the word “tekton” – normally translated “carpenter” – was being re-examined. It’s actually a word with a much broader meaning – handy-man, contractor, or even engineer. Some have argued that due to the number of references to stone in Jesus’ teaching – and almost no references to wood – he was most likely a stone-mason. I do not know – and I don’t claim to know the truth – but it’s essential that Jesus lived among his people. He ate and drank and possibly worked with a whole crew down at the local quarry, perhaps surrounded by the fruity language of the local labourers! Does it matter that he spent years growing up and living among us? Yes, it does. Because to rescue us, he must bridge the gap between heaven and earth. The early church spent centuries arguing over Christ’s human and divine nature. The tightrope the early church fathers walked was only possible because the Lord Jesus displayed his humanity in life, and was (and is) a Saviour found worthy through tests and trials. His extraordinary life is why we know he’s both human and divine. His dual nature enables him to save us – to be the sinless saviour – and his life validates the Messianic prophecies. He was (and is) God with us. So, what of the rescue theme? In the Thai cave rescue, two characters stand out: Rick Stanton and John Volanthen. Though the operation was multi-national, these awkward British middle-aged experts in an obscure sport most people had never heard of, these were the heroes. They made many dives, risking their lives many times over, to reach a group of boys facing death. Because to save the boys, they needed to reach them. Physically. With their bodies. They needed to swim through dangerous tunnels to finally come face to face with the ones who, without their aid, would die. The biblical themes in both of these stories shine with such intensity, they are rich sources for any sermon, whether at Easter or Christmas. The cave divers swim through baptismal waters to reach the lost. They anaesthetize them, so that the boys are dragged, as though dead, through the waters to the other side, where they awake to new life. The Chilean miners are entombed. Without rescue, they are dead. Yet, into this tomb is sent a rescuer, who climbs from a shaft, and invites the miners to journey up to the surface where there is light and life. If that doesn’t send chills down your spine, then nothing will. The power of these stories is such that I can only end with some words of encouragement: Go preach the gospel! Tell them about our God who is with us, and who came to save us!

I have a problem. I can’t go to sleep with the light on. I do have a solution, however. I use a silk mask, nice and smooth on the face. It blocks out all the light. It really does. It’s completely black in there behind the mask. But I still struggle to go to sleep. Why? Because before I put it on, there is light in the room. So, when I place the mask over my eyes, my brain knows I’m in a lit room. It seems I don’t need my eyes to perceive the light. My brain simply remembers the light my eyes were seeing before I put on the mask, and carries that memory into my experience of lying there trying to go to sleep. I can’t see the light but I know it’s there. Dark equals “time to sleep.” Light equals “unable to rest.” It’s been that way my whole life. As I was lying there with my mask on the other night, it caused me to think of Advent. The coming of the light. The star in the heavens, the angels lit up brilliantly in the night sky. Advent is all about anticipation. Looking forward to the coming of the light. In some traditions, this has to do with the Second Coming of the Lord Jesus, now combined with the excitement of Christmas Day approaching. The First and the Second arrival of our Saviour, anticipated by followers who long for the day when all will be made right and new. When there will be no more darkness. The Apostle John is the one who writes most about light. The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. John 1.9 In John’s telling of the story, metaphors take centre stage. The seven “I am” statements are all metaphors, ways of describing a diamond, whose brilliance cannot be contained. It must be viewed from multiple angles in order to appreciate its true wonder. The Resurrection and the Life, the Door, The Good Shepherd, The Way, the Truth and the Life, the Vine, the Bread of life. And of course, the Light. John sees the world in dualistic terms. Either darkness or light. You cannot live in both worlds. Either you walk in the light. Or you live in the darkness. Notice, also, how John links light to life. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. John 1.4 The life of the Word illuminates all mankind. It is a light shining in the darkness, and where there is light, there cannot be darkness. Perhaps that’s why I struggle to sleep. I know there is light, and where there is light, there cannot be darkness. My struggle, however, has a hopeful aspect to it. I shroud myself with darkness. I put on my mask. But I know there is light out there. I cannot see it, but I know it. This is the Advent experience we should embrace. For while we are surrounded by darkness in this world, and so often we cannot see the light, we know the light is there. We know it! And one day, it is coming to illuminate the entire world again. In my bedroom at night, I cannot sleep while light gives me life. It’s as though my body is saying, “Light gives life. Do not sleep!” Light is life. It gives life to those in darkness. Right now, I see many churches cowering in fear. Afraid of the dark. Afraid of death and disease. Instead of giving our lives away, many of us are doing our best to protect them. But what is life for, if not to be given away? What has Advent to teach us? The light has come and is coming again. Though the world is dark, filled with lies and deceit and fear, the light of the world gives life, and in turn invites us to give it away for the sake of the one true light. What have we to lose if we have gained the light of life? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8.12 Perhaps we fear the darkness because it seems so pervasive, so powerful. It destroys bodies, crushes souls, causes heartache, and steals life. And if we fill our hearts and minds with the darkness, it will indeed consume us. But we who know the light, who have been given life by the light, we do not live in the darkness. And the darkness has no power over those who live in the light. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1.5 All around us is darkness. Broken lives, suffering, conflict, hatred, anger, and violence. But like a man lying with his mask on, we all, like him, know there is light out there. Even when we wear a mask, and we cannot see the light, we know it’s there. You know it’s there. Your congregation knows it’s there! And if they’ve lost their way, remind them this Christmas. Remind them of the light who gives life and hope. No more cowering in the darkness. Embrace the light. Walk in the light. For it banishes darkness. It is a hope for the future and a daily reality, a truly glorious paradox. Hear the words of Isaiah, writing centuries ago. The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. Isaiah 9.2 Hold onto hope. Hold onto the light. For the light gives life.

“You can’t take it with you!” I’m sure you’ve heard these words. A warning against materialism, you might have heard them to counter a phrase attributed to Malcolm Forbes (wealthy entrepreneur): The one who dies with the most toys wins. Okay, so materialism is bad. Got that. But what can you take with you? That’s the question I’d like to address today. It’s an important question because of something I call lifeboat theology. Let’s get in the boat and wait for rescue. Lifeboat theology isn’t complete heresy, but it’s sufficiently misleading that it can do some serious damage. I was raised with lifeboat theology. It goes like this. You’re lost in your sin. You need saving. Jesus died on the cross to save you so that when you die, you will go to heaven. End of story. We are immaterial souls waiting to go to heaven. Take a look at this section of the Apostle’s Creed: I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ, His only Son Our Lord, Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. The Apostle’s Creed is wonderful . . . as far as it goes. But did you notice the vast gap in the middle? What took place between Christ’s birth and his arrest and crucifixion? It’s as though he never actually lived a human life. Why the need to live a human life at all? He could have walked out of a mist onto a cross and died for us, without ever needing to live with us. And that’s a problem. It’s a big problem. Lifeboat theology emerges from a form of Greek thinking, which splits the body from the soul. At its worst, it has resulted in Gnosticism and various forms of pietism, which denigrate the body and call believers to focus solely on the realm of the spirit. Biblical terms like “the world” and “the flesh” are viewed not as the human being in rebellion, but the corruption of the body, from which we must escape. For the Christian, the soul has therefore been saved for one purpose alone: so that it can take up residence in heaven. No need to consider the body. But that simply isn’t true. It’s not our destiny at all. Verses like Colossian 3.2 – set your hearts on things above, not on earthly things – are incorrectly applied to bolster lifeboat thinking. Unfortunately, vestiges of this belief linger today in many churches. It probably lingers in your congregation. Sadly, there is . . . No awareness of the importance of bodily life. No understanding of the need to care for creation. No thoughts about justice or care for the poor. Just “I got a ticket to the sky, where I’ll meet my Saviour in the sweet by-and-by.” Why make sacrifices for my Lord, when I’m already holding a golden ticket? Not buying it. And nor should you or your congregation. First, I must encourage you to read N.T. Wright’s fabulous book, Surprised by Hope. A treasure, which will give you new eyes. Second, what can you take with you? Two things. Your memories One day, when God makes all things new, we will live in his new heavens and new earth (See Rev. 21). No, I don’t know what that will look like, but I do know that I will be there. And so will you. I also know that memories are essential to human beings. People with Alzheimer’s start to lose their sense of self. When a person cannot remember who they are, they become a husk. It is a tragedy. So I am confident that God won’t simply re-set me without my memories. My memories are an essential part of my identity. When Christ was raised from the dead, he gave us a template for our experience in a resurrected body. He also brought his memories with him. He knew his disciples and he re-instated Peter. There’s no question in my mind. In the new heavens and the new earth, I will bring my memories with me. Without them, I am not me. Spiritual growth More importantly, I will bring my transformed soul with me. Christians use the word “sanctification” a lot. Being made holy, or growing in grace, or the development of the soul, they’re all ways of describing what happens as we grow in our relationship with God. When we die, we will one day be given a new resurrected body to live with God. 1 Corinthians 15 is the chapter which lays out our future. So is it with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonour; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. 1 Cor. 15. 42-44 The phrase “spiritual body” must not be confused with non-physical. Essentially, it means a body animated and led by the Spirit of God. One day, we will live in perfect relationship with creation, our fellow creatures and our God. We will be there – the people who have lived our lives here on earth, transformed and given new pain-free bodies. That’s why our growth here on earth matters so much. One day, our new bodies will be animated and led by the Spirit, but it is we ourselves who will live in these bodies. People made into the likeness of our Saviour. So there are two ways of thinking about salvation. Saved from Saved for In your churches, you will have some who focus almost exclusively on “saved from.” Saved from the world, saved from judgement, saved from my sin, saved from the devil. That’s all fine, but spiritual growth is driven far more by “saved for.” I’m saved for the purpose of becoming like my Saviour. To grow in the grace and knowledge of God. I’m saved in order to develop my gifts, so that I can bless the body of Christ. I’m saved so that I can share Christ, care for others, do all for the glory of God. To do these things, I will need my body. I’m not just a saved soul waiting in an ante-room for my trip to heaven. I’m an embodied soul, created by God to live in his creation, with all its wonder and beauty, to live out my days with his calling on my life. A life empowered by his Spirit to bring him glory. That’s the missing piece of the Apostle’s Creed. The life of Christ, which shows us how to live. The Sermon on the Mount, in which he calls us to a new life with him. A life of purpose and meaning, committed to partnering with God in the establishment of his kingdom – his sovereign reign in our lives – so that we pray, “Your kingdom come. Your will be done.” So what will you take with you? A transformed “you” who has grown in grace and shows ever growing signs of resembling your Master. That’s the “you” who will put on a new, wonderful resurrection body to live in God’s new heavens and new earth. In his fully established kingdom. Jerusalem lowered to earth. God coming down, not us going up. Lifeboat, anyone? Sitting on a bench waiting to be scooped up to heaven? No, thank you. That’s not your destiny. And it isn’t the destiny of the people you serve. Instead, you are in the job of making disciples, who are being transformed each day more and more into the likeness of their Saviour. That’s why the life of every precious child of God matters so much. That’s why making disciples is a task riven with eternal significance. That’s your job. It matters hugely. You matter. And the growth of God’s kingdom within the people you serve, that will make a difference eternally. To the praise of his glory.

- Before you start writing, Richard, just calm down. - I am calm. I’m extremely calm. - You don’t look calm. You look agitated. - I am agitated, but I’m also calm. Thing is, this subject is one of my pet peeves, so it’s upsetting. - Fine. So focus your thoughts and don’t rant. Please don’t rant. - Okay, no ranting. Just clear, intelligible thoughts. - You’re ready. Off you go. - I can do this. Now find me a good editor, because I’ll need one. What’s in a name? Don’t get me started on this, because I may throw my computer across the room. Why is this subject one close to my heart? Because names matter to me. As you read, you’ll understand why. Let’s start with the Bible. Names in the Bible are immensely important. They are indicators of identity and destiny. Entire books have been written on God’s name – indeed, the many names that God uses in Scripture. Yahweh is perhaps the best known. I am who I am. The Jews didn’t use the vowels, so represented it as YHWH, making pronunciation hard to establish. Later, fearing they might violate Leviticus’ injunction regarding the misuse of God’s name, they simply opted for Ha-Shem – the name. What is the meaning of God’s revealed name? It has been discussed for centuries, but perhaps could be summed up as ‘The God who is present for his people, faithful to them to save, deliver, help, redeem and provide for them.’ Names are important elsewhere. Abram becomes Abraham. Jacob becomes Israel. Joshua, who enters the promised land, is a name meaning “The Lord saves.” Translated from the Hebrew into Greek, it is rendered Jesus. So effectively the same name. Yeshua (Joshua/Jesus) Christ (Christos) therefore means, “The Lord saves, the anointed one.” Or perhaps we could say, “The promised one of God, anointed, who saves his people.” That’s quite a title, and quite a claim. What about us? I accept that we live in a culture in which names do not have the same importance. However . . . and it’s a big however . . . Names are still extremely important, whether our culture acknowledges this truth or not. Why? Names are deeply personal. They are one of the primary means we have of making us feel human. That’s why it’s a crime to deny a person a name. In Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, human beings are produced in test tubes. There are very few names. Instead, most people are assigned letters – alpha, beta, gamma, delta. It’s a way of dehumanising the population and controlling it. Then there’s Nazi Germany, who stamped a number into the arms of its concentration camp prisoners. When you’re just a number, you’re being treated as less than human. A gift. For the most part, our names are given to us by our parents. They are a gift, whatever their meaning or the awareness of meaning our parents may have. They are the words that, over time, become our most important means of self-identification. That’s one of the reasons why names feel so precious to us. They enable us to say, “That’s me!” And that statement gives us the ability to state, “I matter.” Those two are intimately linked. Names are powerful. Why? Because words are intrinsically powerful. In the world of words, there are few with the same power as a name. That’s why bullies tease the weak by mocking their names. They know (often unconsciously) that our names matter greatly to us, so by misusing a name, they have the power to hurt us. What does all of this mean to us as leaders with a church full of names? Remembering names matters. A lot. But not just remembering. Spelling is also important. Here I must confess the reason for that dialogue above. My mother (now passed) was Norwegian. Her name was Anne-Lise. That’s an ‘e’ at the end, not an ‘a.’ When she got married and moved to England, no one spelled it correctly. It just didn’t seem to matter to anyone. So, she just gave up explaining it. My daughter’s name is Madeleine. Not Madeline. Madeleine. Not Maddie or Mads. Madeleine. We gave her that name because we love it. She’s precious to us as Madeleine. Please don’t be cavalier with names. They matter a lot. So, when you write a card to someone in your church, please check the spelling of their name. They were given that name by their parents (probably.) It’s the way they self-identify and when you carelessly mis-spell it, you demonstrate a lack of care and attention that has the ability to hurt people. Second, don’t use diminutives unless the person gives you permission. If I say my name’s Billy, then call me Billy. But don’t walk up to a Bill, and call him Billy. It may be the name he hates the most. A bully may have used that name you just chose, and every use of it stings. If you can’t remember a name, apologise and make sure you acknowledge your limitations. “I’m so sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name” is fine when offered honestly and humbly. Don’t guess. In his book, How to Win Friends and Influence People, by Dale Carnegie, he lists ten behaviours that can help a person become successful. Third on his list (I think) is “Use the name of the person you just met.” “So, Bob, tell me about your family” indicates two things. First, I was listening when you introduced yourself. Second, I desire to make a connection. It’s a valuable means of saying, “you are important to me right now. I’m listening to you.” Indeed, it is a way to say, “You are not just a body, you have a name. You are Bob and you matter.” That’s how powerful names are. Let’s be honest, some of us are good at this; some are not. But don’t make excuses. Today, make the effort to do better. Consciously work hard at remembering names and use them to show you care for people. When you meet Elizabeth (not Beth or Betty) Kaitlyn (starts with a ‘k’) or David (never Dave) in church, remember their names are a gift to them. They may also have a family significance that is extremely important to them, (something I haven’t mentioned.) Don’t be sloppy. Check the spelling. Many Asian people have given up expecting Westerners to use their names properly, so they choose Western names. Why not make the extra effort to remember their given, Asian name, the one their parents gave them? You will bless them greatly in doing so. Because names are precious. They make us feel human. And God, who is zealous for his name, values us each by name. We are NOT just numbers. We have names. And he knows us each by our name, because we matter to him. He loves us.

Associates & Refresh Ministries Support Manager (2 years fixed appointment. Salary: £26,250 per annum; Location: home-based in the UK, able to travel to London, Belfast and possibly other UK locations for occasional team days) Living Leadership is a dynamic network of people providing training, support and resources for disciple-making leaders and spouses of leaders in the UK, Ireland and beyond. Alone and in partnership with like-minded ministries, we provide training, pastoral care and mentoring for leaders in churches and organisations across the evangelical family. A key development has been our Associates Network, launched in 2020, which sees experienced leaders investing in future and present leaders according to their gifting and experience. Could you serve God in our growing ministry? We are looking for one person full-time or two people part-time to fulfil the role of Associates & Refresh Ministries Support Manager, which includes two aspects: Associate Scheme development – managing, administering and developing our Associates Scheme, developing resources, online booking systems, team days and conferences, ministry support for Associates. Management of other Refresh Ministries – administering and managing Refresh Network Online, online bookings, liaising with speakers, managing Zoom calls, recording sessions, regular communications. The successful candidate or candidates will be an evangelical Christian with proven abilities to work with a team and to innovate, plan, prioritise and deliver in order to achieve exceptional results in one or both of these aspects. You must be in full sympathy with the aims and objectives of Living Leadership as outlined in our Statements of Faith and Ethos. Download the Job Description Closing date: Friday 14 January 2022. For further details, including how to apply, please contact info@livingleadership.org

Ministry with the actions and affections of Christ This post is based on Philippians 2.25-30. If possible, have your Bible open at this passage as you read. He’s one of the Bible’s most attractive characters, but many barely know his name. Epaphroditus, meaning handsome. Literally ‘above Aphrodite’. One who might surpass the Greek goddess of beauty. Parental hopes, it seems, of a child of exceptional charm. But his attractiveness was not in his name or his physical attributes. His was the deep beauty of godly character. For Epaphroditus is one of the most Christlike people we encounter in the New Testament. He was, according to Paul, the kind of Christian worker who deserves great honour (Phil. 2.29). A man to be treasured immensely. A minister to be greeted warmly. A ministry to be celebrated with great joy. What made Epaphroditus such a model minister? Was he a serial church planter? A dynamic preacher? A worker of miracles? A pastor par excellence? If he was any of these things, Paul didn’t see fit to tell us. In fact, by modern standards, Epaphroditus wasn’t much to write home about. He started well. He was the embodiment of the Philippians’ contribution to Paul’s mission team, bringing their material support (Phil. 4.18). He was, literally, their ‘apostle’ (Phil. 2.25), sent as their authorised representative just as Christ had sent Paul with His authority. And Epaphroditus became more than a courier. His practical contribution to the needs of the imprisoned apostle engendered a deep affection expressed in three terms (Phil. 2.25). He was Paul’s “brother.” A brotherhood forged in the fire of affliction. He was Paul’s “fellow worker.” A valued member of the team using the gifts he was given. He was Paul’s “fellow soldier.” They fought together against Satan’s schemes and for the cause of Christ. Epaphroditus: exemplary brother, worker and soldier alongside Paul. If you’ve had a ministry partner like that, you’ll know how grateful Paul was. Not coldness but compassion. Not competition but cooperation. Not conflict but co-belligerence. But it was not primarily in his service that Paul saw Christ’s likeness. Rather, it was in his suffering. Paul writes that he must send Epaphroditus back to Philippi (Phil. 2.25). Reports had reached them that their envoy had been ill. Paul confirms it was true. Epaphroditus had been ill. In fact, he’s had a brush with death. “But God…” – two transformative words! God saved Epaphroditus from death – a divine intervention Paul received as a gift of mercy to both his friend and himself. We don’t know if he recovered fully. Was he unable to continue in service for Paul? Paul gives three reasons for sending him back. Epaphroditus’s longing to be with the Philippians. The joy his return would bring them. The relief of sorrow (anxiety) for Paul (Phil. 2.28). That last point suggests that this brother, who had been such a support, was now a burden, if not materially, at least emotionally. It doesn’t sound like ministry glory, does it? Strong man brought low. Promising start, humiliating ending. Once a useful minister, now a bit of a wreck. Not the kind of bio you read in the handbooks at big conferences or on the back of bestselling Christian books. But maybe it’s your story or that of someone you know. Humanly speaking, it’s an embarrassment. Something to whisper about. Someone to pity. But God! God had another purpose. It was precisely in his weakness that Christ was revealed. Twice Paul’s words indicate the likeness. We read that Epaphroditus came “near to death” (Phil. 2.27) and “nearly died” (Phil. 2.30). Coming just after Paul’s famous “Christ hymn,” in which he says Jesus “humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Phil. 2.8), the parallel is obvious. Jesus died in obedience to his Father. Epaphroditus came close to death in the work of Christ, “risking his life to complete what was lacking in your service to me” (Phil. 2.30). We don’t know if Epaphroditus’s illness was a direct result of gospel ministry. He could have been assaulted or perhaps he picked up a disease. Or maybe he just ran himself into the ground. We don’t know and speculation will get us nowhere. All we know is that he became sick in the context of sacrificial service for Paul in the name of Christ. It’s a story that’s been repeated many times, and we may be prone to ask, “Why didn’t God preserve him from illness and save Paul the worry?” As ever, we cannot second guess God’s mind. But this we can say: faithful and sacrificial service for God carries no guarantee of safety, wellbeing or longevity. Put more bluntly, ministry might kill you. It will do that quicker if you’re foolish, but even if you’re wise, you might die in service. Weakness in ministry is no source of shame! For it is in weakness that we come closest to Christlikeness. That was true in the physical weakness of Epaphroditus, but Paul’s second verbal clue is more remarkable still. Paul writes that “he has been longing for you all and has been distressed” (Phil. 2.26). The word translated “distressed” is only used of one other person in the New Testament. It was, of course, the Lord Jesus in Gethsemane (Matt. 26.37; Mark 14.33). Epaphroditus came close to Christlike sacrifice when he nearly died, but he also experienced Christlike sentiment as he reflected on the anxiety his illness had brought his sending church. There is no more Christlike quality than to be so invested in the spiritual wellbeing of others that we long to be with them in their pain. Epaphroditus was Christlike in his actions and his affections. That’s the kind of worker who should be honoured. Not the endlessly resilient, seemingly invincible and inexhaustible. Instead, we should honour faithful servants who will follow in their Master’s footsteps, bearing the burdens of others, and offering their resources in the mission of God. What about us as modern-day workers and soldiers for Christ? Perhaps you often attempt to hide your troubled emotions, put on a brave face, or try to be strong when you aren’t. Please don’t walk that road alone. Find a co-worker like Paul who will hear your heart, and commend you to the care you need. If don’t already have that support, our Associates are here for you. Perhaps you’re not that close to the line, but you know your affection no longer resonates with Christ’s heart. You’ve developed a host of self-protection mechanisms because of unhealed wounds and past hurts. Please hear what Paul tells us of Epaphroditus. You are no source of shame, but one to be honoured, for you have shared in the sufferings of Christ. Let that truth seep into the depths of your heart. Don’t let your wounds define you, or become calloused. Rather, discover again the joy of the Lord. Meditate deeply on Christ’s wounds, and let your own sufferings take on a fresh perspective in light of his redemptive sacrifice for you. Perhaps you’re happy to be Christlike in your giving of self, but you feel shame when you groan in anguish for those you serve. Epaphroditus shows us that deep emotions are not shameful, but honourable when they echo Christ’s heartbeat. Some emotions are just negative and should never be expressed except to God. Festering bitterness and envy have no place in Christian community (Phil. 2.14). But there are other emotions - the longing for purity in the Church; the heartfelt sorrow at sin; the sense of being burdened for those lost without Christ. Epaphroditus felt these and so did Paul. He calls them “the affection of Christ Jesus” (Phil. 1.8). To have the mind of Christ is to serve in humble obedience. To have the heart of Christ is to suffer in deep affection. Through that service and suffering comes the joy of celebration. It’s a joy that comes through fellowship with others who share our sorrow at sin and our hope of glory. For Christ, it came in his glorious reception into Heaven’s eternal joy. For Paul, it came for a season through Epaphroditus. For Epaphroditus, when Philippians was written, it could not come through Paul, imprisoned in Rome, but came through a warm welcome from the community of believers of Philippi. Where will that joy come for you in your service and sorrow? Find ministry brothers or sisters who share the affection of Christ. Express it together, saving each other from cynicism, praying for God to continue His work in and through you, and rejoicing in the Lord. You might find that partnership in a colleague or ministry team, your spouse, a fraternal, a retreat, a Living Leadership mentor, a group in Refresh Network Online, or even in your church community. But don’t neglect it. And perhaps even today you can be the bringer of joy to another as you honour someone who serves humbly and loves deeply.

I loved my Grandpa Donaldson. He loved me and I know he cherished my interest in the Bible, and my love for Jesus. He was a wonderful story-teller. We grandchildren particularly enjoyed his stories of the “Magic Saddle” and “The Wee Red Bus.” His talent for engaging the young was honed at what were called “Children’s Meetings.” They were evangelistic gatherings and were all the rage when I was a wee lad in the early 1960’s. We sang choruses from a flip chart – “Goliath of Gath,” “Climb, climb up sunshine mountain” (!) or “The Bible is God’s Telephone” were some of my favourites, now consigned to history. Bible memorisation, quizzes, and Bible stories came alive on the flannelgraph or via home-made artefacts or domestic props like a bobbin of cotton thread. I loved these meetings – held al fresco in the summer months with upwards of a hundred children in attendance. But, back to Grandpa. He joined the Royal Army Medical Corp (RAMC) on 28 April, 1915 when he’d just turned nineteen. The oldest child of the family, he had been a coal miner for five years. He requested a non-combatant role due to his conscience regarding taking up arms, and was deployed to the Dardanelles as a stretcher-bearer, managing to survive the slaughter which took so many lives. He was redeployed eventually to France but on the War Office Daily List 5565 of 14 May 1918, he was reported missing. An anxious wait followed in the family home until 8 November 1918, when he was reported as a Prisoner of War. Grandpa didn’t talk much about his time as a PoW, though he used to regale us with some German he’d picked up in the camp. He even brought back a loaf of bread from Parchim German Prisoner of War Camp in N.E. Germany. One thing he never mentioned was the loss of his younger brother Duncan (named after his father). I only discovered in October 2021 that Grandpa had lost his brother. I found out that Duncan was the third of four Donaldson boys in a family of seven children. He was born in 1900, enlisted in the Royal Scots in 1917, and was posted to France on 31 March 1918. On 21 April 1918, he died from wounds received in action. Duncan was only 18 when he died and I had never been able to pay my respects because I didn’t know of his existence. I have since discovered his gravestone in the cemetery of Aire-sur-la-Lys in the Pas de Calais. My poor great-grandparents had lost their third child in April of 1918, followed by the news that their oldest boy – my Grandpa – was missing in action in May 1918. Imagine their relief when they found out that he was a PoW in November of that year, just before the end of the war. During my research, the most moving discovery I made was a picture of my great-uncle Duncan’s gravestone. The inscription (at a cost to his parents of 3 ½ d per letter) included this text: “The Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” Galatians 2.20. As a testimony to the faith of a young soldier, it is such a fitting text. For the grief, sorrow and pathos of his godly parents, who held on to their faith and hope in Christ, it speaks of their sincerity and faithfulness. For a brother who lived on, it is a tribute to his life, because the whole text (beyond the number of letters permitted on the headstone) says: “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.’ For Grandpa Donaldson, this was deeply personal. This Remembrance Day of 2021 will be very special for me as, for the first time, I will remember great-uncle Duncan and his faith. I will also reflect on the value of leadership in the home, on sons whose faith has passed down through the generations. These are men for whom I am eternally grateful. As it is written in Hebrews 13.7, “Remember your leaders, who spoke the word of God to you. Consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith.”

Zeal Without Burnout: Seven Keys to a Lifelong Ministry of Sustainable Sacrifice, Christopher Ash, Good Book Company, 2016, 123 pages, ISBN: 9781784980214, List price: £7.99 “Sacrifice is not the same as burnout” (p.23). That is the crucial distinction Christopher Ash seeks to make in this beautiful little book. Beautiful both in its presentation – the hardcover and attractive design give it a real feeling of quality and it is a delight to hold – and its content – it is well written and follows a clear and engaging order. Ash writes from experience as a pastor and a trainer of others for ministry and he understands the drive that many younger men feel to be sacrificial in ministry but how easily this can tip them onto a path of self-destruction that is far from honouring to the God they want to serve. Ash opens Zeal Without Burnout with ‘Stories from the Edge’, recounting his own experience of coming close to burnout on at least two occasions and the serious burnout of one of his ministry heroes. Similar stories written in the first person are interspersed throughout the remaining chapters of the book. Having established that burnout is a serious threat to people in ministry, Ash proceeds to explain why it should not be confused with sacrifice and then lays out his foundational theological principle, that “We are creatures of dust” (p.35) – we are human and not God. The “seven keys” to lifelong ministry that occupy a chapter each, forming the bulk of the book, are outworkings of this principle. The first four describe four needs we have that God does not: sleep, Sabbath rest, friendship and inward renewal. The remaining three constitute a warning to beware celebrity, an encouragement that our labour for the Lord is not in vain, and a call to delight and rejoice in God’s grace rather than in gifts. The book concludes with a suggested four-step process of self-reflection, a chapter in which Steve Midgley explains what burnout is and then a short list of further recommended reading. This little book is possibly the best single book I have read on the subject. It masterfully weaves together real stories with practical wisdom grounded in a clear theological conviction. It is coherent and engaging throughout and its greatest strength compared with other books with similar aims is its balance of dealing with heart issues and practical advice. Ash’s grasp of Scripture and his commitment to the glory of God and the centrality of the gospel are evident on every page and his concern for younger pastors emanates from every chapter. He is also sensitive to the diversity of his readership, putting advice specifically intended for married couples in a postscript to his chapter on friendship rather than assuming that it will be relevant to all. The inclusion of recommendations for further reading and questions for self-reflection enhance the usefulness of the book. Judged by its intentions, Zeal Without Burnout is virtually flawless. It is hardly a criticism to say that it is not a detailed exploration of the themes it introduces – how could it be in so few small and well-spaced pages? It is also worth remembering that it approaches the issue of burnout from one specific theological premise, albeit an immensely helpful one, and that choice limits its focus. There are some areas Ash does not address, including healthy eating and exercise or accountability and teamwork (these last two are suggested by one of the contributors of personal stories, Dennis – p.93), and the addition of group discussion questions might make the book more useful for ministry teams. For readers who want a rounded perspective on this subject, this book should be read along with Pablo Martinez’s Take Care of Yourself and David Murray’s ReSET. In conclusion, I highly recommend Zeal Without Burnout to every Christian minister. I agree with Ash that our failings often come from forgetting our humanity. That is inexcusable because at the root of this issue is the idolatry that says that I can be like God. I need that rebuke and the tender caring advice that Ash follows it with. I am sure I will need it many more times if I am to finish the race well and I intend to return to this book occasionally to be reminded and encouraged once again. You can purchase a copy of Zeal Without Burnout from the publisher, or most other bookshops The links in this post are affiliate links. This means if you purchase the book through these links we will receive a small commission from that sale which we can use to further our ministries. This does not add anything to the price of the book you purchase.

Oath-maker or law-keeper. Which are you? Last time, I introduced you to Uhtred, a Saxon raised by Danes, the hero of the Saxon series by Bernard Cornwell. Uhtred is a warrior. He is bold and brave, impulsive, volatile and extremely violent. He is a brilliant tactician, noble, fiercely loyal, capable of great and awful deeds, supreme on the battlefield. So what makes him a hero? LOVE Why is Uhtred brave? It isn’t because of romantic love. Certainly, he loves Gisela, one of his wives, but he has no respect for the institution of marriage. He does not fight for his wife. Instead, an enduring theme in the books is the brotherly love he has for his friends. The bond forged with his brothers-in-arms is created by facing death together, by standing side by side in the shield wall. Sihtric, Leofric, Finan, even Osferth, these are the people he loves. He risks his life beside them over and over again. It is a truism in war that soldiers fight not so much for the cause as for the brother by their side. Forget freedom or patriotism or the regiment, a soldier will risk all to save his friend, who’s dying in a hole a hundred yards away. That is self-sacrificial love, the kind of love we associate with God. And Uhtred has it in spades. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. John 15.13 Courage and brotherly love are admirable, but it’s the following character trait that portrays the strongest connection with Christian belief. He is an oath-maker. OATH-MAKER What binds a warrior to his lord? What ties a great warrior to his king? Oath-making. In the ninth century, everyone had a lord. Each person was bound to that lord by their oath. And Uhtred was no exception. Everything about Uhtred screams chaos. He is a wild animal who detests King Alfred. He thinks his religion is absurd and ridiculous. He has no respect for priests or monks. You expect him to abandon Alfred at the earliest opportunity. But he doesn’t. He can’t. Because he has made an oath. In fact, he makes at least three oaths to Alfred. He says, I had given Alfred my oath and without oaths we are no better than beasts. It is oath-making that underpins everything that happens in the Saxon series. Without oaths, Uhtred would abandon his king, and Wessex would be lost. Without oaths, Uhtred would have no warriors bound to him, men who follow him into battle time after time. Without oaths, there is only chaos. Oaths are the foundation of society, the invisible webbing that holds the whole structure in place. Not laws. Oaths. LAWS By contrast, Alfred, while relying on oaths, values law. He’s forever making laws for the England of his dreams. Indeed, Alfred believes it is laws that civilise a man. Uhtred says, The law says I own that land, and the law, we are told, is what makes us men under God instead of beasts in a ditch. Is it laws or oaths that make us men, make us human? Who is right, Uhtred or King Alfred? Certainly, a country cannot prosper without laws. A country without institutions and the rule of law becomes engulfed in corruption. However, laws come with a cost to us personally. They are impersonal and rigid. They are used by others to condemn us. They have no feeling, and they cannot save us. They do not give life. In Galatians, St. Paul tells us that the law was added because of transgressions. It is a light illuminating our weakness, our need for a Saviour. It is a means to an end, not the end itself. For God did not make us for law, but for relationship. How tragic, then, when we misunderstand the law, for in so doing we misunderstand God himself. The Pharisees were condemned by Jesus for their hypocrisy, for loving the law without loving God. Instead of drawing people to God, they hindered the people’s ability to enter into relationship with a loving God. Laws can do that. They can hinder our ability to connect with God, because they are never a source of grace. And only when there is the possibility of grace is there life, for grace gives life. When we see only law, instead of the grace to which it points, our hearts become hardened. It happens even in the church. What do law-keepers look like in church? Since law-breaking is often external, law-keepers are more interested in how things look than in what’s going on inside a person. Respectability matters a lot. It’s important to project an image which is highly regarded by the group. That indicates law-keeping. They make judgements about others based on their own ideas of what is acceptable. Behaviours outside cultural norms are signs that a person is not “one of us.” They often lack grace. They value behaviour over relationship. The law cannot impart life. And law-keepers, those who value the keeping of laws, are looking in the wrong place for their salvation. When they use laws to judge others, they find themselves judged. Laws may be necessary for society, but they are not where life is found. Because for life, we need grace. That’s why we should look to oaths. Promises. OATHS In Uhtred’s world, oaths are promises. The equivalent biblical term is “covenant.” At his best, Uhtred is a covenant-keeper, a promise-keeper. In Cornwell’s books, that’s what oath-making is all about. A covenant is a promise. And promises require sacrifice. Just ask Uhtred. He is bound to a man he hates. He can’t stand Alfred’s stuffy, law-making, religious attitudes. He hates all of it. He is a man of action and decision, but an oath is an oath. Well . . . I write that, but in reality, Cornwell knows how to spin a great yarn. There are times when Uhtred’s most cherished beliefs clash. Like swords crashing into shields, Uhtred’s belief in fate crashes into his oaths. That’s why, at times, he wavers. He says, Making an oath is like steering a course, but if the winds and tides of fate are too strong, then the steering oar loses its power. Under severe pressure, he struggles to hold onto the steering oar, and sometimes he cannot stay true to his oaths. Not so our God. Our oath-keeping God. A covenant with Noah. A covenant with Abram. A covenant with David. Through the Abrahamic covenant in particular, he is bound to the people of Israel, who betray him over and over again. They break the covenant repeatedly, yet he does not flinch. He does not pull out. He goes all the way, making the ultimate sacrifice through the Lord Jesus. He is the ultimate promise-keeper, whose promises are rooted in his great love for us. That’s why Uhtred’s oaths remind me of my God. The Lord keeps his oath, his promise. It is a sign of his great love for us. And like Uhtred’s love for his brothers-in-arms, our God’s love leads him to sacrifice himself for his friends, to rip himself asunder for the sake of relationship, not law. For grace can only be birthed by a promise-keeping God, who stays the course, who risks all to gain all. To gain us, his beloved people. So when Uhtred does keep his promises, he reminds me of my God. The psalmist speaks of him as a fortress. In Uhtred’s world, his family home, Bebbanburg, is a fortress built on massive piece of solid rock. A solid rock. Unmoveable. Unshakeable. Unchangeable. Just like our God. As the hymn writer, Edward Mote, writes, On Christ, the solid rock, I stand, All other ground is sinking sand, All other ground is sinking sand Our God is faithful, reliable, a solid rock on which we stand. He never changes, never veers from his goals, never lets us down. Because his promises are rooted in his character. And when he says he will be with us to the end, he means it.

ReSET: Living a Grace-Paced Life in a Burnout Culture, David Murray, Crossway, 2017, 100 pages, ISBN: 9781433555183, List price: £11.99 David Murray writes as a pastor whose ever-accelerating ministry drive was brought to a shuddering halt by an unexpected medical crisis. Reflecting on his experience and that of other burnt-out pastors, he concluded that the root issue is “deficits of grace” (p.12) in their experience. Despite being committed to a theology of grace, many leaders, he argues, lack the motivating, moderating, multiplying, releasing and receiving power of grace in their lives. In ReSET, Murray aims to correct these deficits for Christian men, whether pastors or not. A second book, co-authored with his wife Shona, entitled ReFRESH, is written for women. The content of the book has been developed through a period of supporting men through an informal process to reset their lives “by establishing patterns and rhythms that will help you live a grace-paced life and get you to the finishing line successfully and joyfully” (p.23-24). Using the image of repair bays in a garage through which we, like conked out cars, can move in a process of resetting, Murray leads us through ten words beginning with re-. His first two chapters are about assessing our current health (1. Reality Check) and seeking to understand how we reached this point (2. Review). He then moves through several disciplines for healthier living – sleep (3. Rest), exercise (4. Re-Create), patterns of regular breaks from work (5. Relax), healthy reflection that reorders our thinking in line with truth (6. Rethink), decluttering and simplification (7. Reduce), healthy nourishment for both body and soul (8. Refuel), and restorative relationships (9. Relate). In each of these chapters, Murray provides practical suggestions and personal illustrations as well as some insights from sociological and medical research. The final Chapter, entitled Resurrection, summarises the ways in which working through the preceding repair bays have hopefully changed the reader’s perspective as they leave the ‘Reset garage’. Murray’s recognition that grace must be more than a theological concept is surely a vital insight for people in Christian ministry. Too readily, we reduce grace to the means of our salvation from sin rather than embracing every aspect of wholeness in life as a gift from our gracious God. Murray is right to recognise the importance of what may seem to be simple or even ‘unspiritual’ things – sleep, food and exercise – for our overall wellbeing. ReSET is an exercise in correction for unhealthy dichotomies between body and soul and unbiblical notions that faithfulness in ministry is a purely spiritual matter that has no relation to physical health. Murray writes engagingly, with frequent illustrations from his life or the media, and he is constantly attentive to the practical, proposing many concrete changes that can be made to redirect life in a healthier direction and away from burnout. When we consider the issue of burnout, as well as making practical changes to our lifestyles, it is undoubtedly vital to correct the wrong ways of thinking about ministry that feed into the problem. Murray pays less attention to these in ReSET. Perhaps this reflects his decision to address the book to a more general readership rather than specifically to pastors, and it must be acknowledged that he briefly indicates some of the destructive ways we can think about ministry in the Introduction and the Chapter entitled Rethink. Still, it will be important for Christian ministers to explore each of these in more detail and work harder at the root issues of motivation and identity so that their ministries will be fully glorifying to God. Pablo Martinez’s book Take Care for Yourself, which pays more attention to heart issues and less to practical advice, may be a useful supplement to ReSET and vice versa. Another addition I would have liked to see to the book is tools for self-assessment and questions for discussion, as much of the advice will be more likely to be beneficial if it is worked out in relationship with supportive others. Inevitably, a book that covers so many areas in under 200 pages will lack depth of analysis in at least some areas. Murray includes theological insights along the way, but he does not present a fully developed theology of humanness or the aspects of it that he addresses. His “theology of the body” based on 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 (pp.74-75) is illustrative of this weakness. This deficiency could be overcome by pointing the reader to fuller theological and biblical sources, but Murray’s footnotes seldom do so, and he has not included a list of recommended further reading. Unfortunately, he also includes a couple of examples of high-profile pastors that have not aged well in the four years since the book was published due to subsequent developments and would be best removed in a revision (pp.32 and 38). Reading as a medic, at times I felt that Murray’s comments on scientific perspectives were a little superficial too – his sources are generally popular-level media reports rather than original research and, in a few places, I was not convinced that the medical evidence was as strong as he suggested. Having said all of this, I still admired what is a thoughtful attempt to integrate biblical truth with scientific understanding. In conclusion, I would recommend ReSET to any Christian man and especially those in ministry. The book is aimed at preventing burnout, but it is a helpful read for every man, whether he seems to be at risk at present or not. Its down-to-earth advice, if followed, will save many ministries and marriages and may even save some lives. It is also the kind of book that could be useful read multiple times, perhaps as part of a periodic review of life and especially for those in life’s middle years, or returned to as a reference (helped by the useful Index) when specific issues arise. If we want to survive in ministry for the long-haul we could do with periodic visits to the ReSET garage. Purchase at the Good Book Company | Purchase at Ten of Those Some of the links in this post are affiliate links. This means if you purchase the book through these links we will receive a small commission from that sale which we can use to further our ministries. This does not add anything to the price of the book you purchase.

Let me introduce you to Uhtred, a Saxon raised by Danes, the hero of the Saxon series by Bernard Cornwell. Uhtred is a warrior. He is bold and brave, impulsive, volatile and extremely violent. He is a brilliant tactician, noble, fiercely loyal, capable of great and awful deeds, supreme on the battlefield. He is truly a wonder to behold. During the ninth century, life in Wessex and Mercia was hard. Very often, it was also short. Few lived to old age. Cornwell describes a world in which no town or village was secure; at any moment, Danes could invade and kill you and all your neighbours. Imagine that. Eking out a living from the soil, trying to survive, knowing that each day could be your last. Imagine the fear, because from the fear rose a blend of superstition and religion. In this world, religions clashed as on a battlefield. Pagan Danes worshiped the Norse gods, Thor and Odin, and fought for superiority over the God nailed to a tree, a god they saw as weak and helpless. While Alfred’s devotion to the one true God anchored him, sadly Christianity was distorted by superstition (relics were popular) and hypocritical monks and priests. Cornwell is an atheist, so one of his favourite tropes is religious hypocrisy. What drives Uhtred? What makes him heroic? Certainly, it isn’t his belief system. He is a pagan. He clings to the Norse gods, especially Thor, and believes that his fate is decided by the three spinners – the Norns – who sit at the base of the tree, Yggdrasil. Wyrd bið ful āræd. Destiny is all! Uhtred believes that warriors will feast together in the great corpse-hall after death, but only if they die in battle with a sword in their hand. These beliefs may make him brave and reckless at times, but they do not make him a hero. Nor does his violence. In several scenes, he loses his temper. The heroic leader from the battlefield becomes a merciless warrior who kills priests in a rage. This creates the impression that he’s just wild and unprincipled, and that is not heroic at all. However, this is only half the story. Uhtred is certainly a flawed character, but he possesses something which all heroes need. A moral core. Once you’re able to get past the paganism and the violence, it turns out that some of his beliefs – and consequent actions – overlap with orthodox Christian faith. These are the things which turn him into a hero. Reputation The preachers tell us that pride is a great sin, but the preachers are wrong. Pride makes a man, it drives him, it is the shield wall around his reputation... Men die, they said, but reputation does not die. The Last Kingdom In this quote, we see his distorted view of pride, but also the immense value he places on reputation. It matters hugely to him, because without it, he cannot build the wealth he needs to take back his home, Bebbanburg – stolen by his uncle. A warrior’s reputation is built on bravery, physical prowess and tactical skill. It makes him a leader. But more than that, Uhtred values reputation because he believes that while life is transitory, his reputation will outlive him. His name will live on. He says, Men die, women die, cattle die, yet reputation lives on like the echo of a song. The Burning Land As Maximus says in Gladiator, “Brothers, what we do in life echoes in eternity.” Don’t be put off by the word “reputation.” Uthred may state that pride is a shield wall around his reputation, but the word has little to do with vanity or pride. Instead, it’s a word which expresses a heartfelt belief in significance. To gain reputation through battle is a way of saying “my life means something.” Let me put this in Christian terms: our choices have eternal consequences. We all leave a legacy that matters. Hugely. We’re not just sitting in a lifeboat waiting to go to heaven. We’re not just “saved from,” but “saved for.” We are significant because of the part we play in God’s Big Story. That’s why we must live bravely and faithfully. Throughout the books, Uhtred faces death many, many times. The descriptions of the shield wall are enough to turn your stomach – the blood-soaked horror of sword thrusts, the flesh-ripping, jaw-breaking battles. What a contrast to our 21st century lives. How comfortable it is nowadays with our password protected online banking, Facebook likes, and regular Amazon deliveries. I wouldn’t want to live in ninth-century Wessex, fearing warring Danes who might kill me in my bed. I’m not looking back romantically wishing I could fight beside Uhtred. Not at all. I am, however, asking these two questions: What does it mean to live bravely in today’s world? What will be your legacy? Battles are highly revealing. It is no place for a coward. Osferth – Alfred’s illegitimate child – wants to be warrior. During a ferocious battle, he grabs his opportunity. He’s physically weak, yet he jumps off a wall and attacks the huge Danish warlord, Sigefrid, seriously injuring him. His sword thrust turns the tide. When it came time to risk everything, he delivered. He was bold and brave. As Uhtred says, To gain everything, a man must risk everything. Are you brave? Will you risk all for the Lord Jesus? Or will you play it safe? And how will you inspire courage in your people? Without courage, how can we follow a Lord who calls us to give up our lives for him? Then he said to them all: ‘Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it. Luke 9.23-24 For a church leader, what does it mean to be brave? A few thoughts. No more avoiding conflict. Feel the fear and address your broken relationships. Today. (See post on handling conflict). Address your fears by stepping out in faith. Fear of failure. Fear of others. Fear of offending those who pay your salary. Apologise when you mess up. Do it publicly if you have to. What does it mean to be bold and brave? Well, it doesn’t require a cape, does it? (If you watch the movie, The Incredibles, you’ll realise that capes are dangerous.) Instead, courage is the daily act of following a Saviour who followed the path of obedience. It may mean standing up for the unborn or marching for justice. But it may equally be the simple act of serving coffee or chatting with a lonely person after church. The antithesis of fear is courage, but it’s also love. As the Apostle John writes, Perfect love drives out fear. 1 John 4.18 (partial) Because our Saviour always acted in love, courage is the ability to act in love when we’re fearful. So feel the fear. And follow Jesus. Respond with love. Trust him to be there with you when obedience is demanding and love is painful. For the sake of his glory.