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“We need to reach the marginalised!” The socially and economically deprived? Immigrants? Ethnic minorities? All worthy groups, but not my focus today. There is a different group of marginalised people, and it’s one you might not have considered. The religious. They come to church frequently. They put money in the offering bag. They smile at you at the door, and are polite and friendly. They offer you encouragement – “lovely sermon, vicar/pastor!” – and perhaps most challenging of all, some consider themselves to be important members of the community. But, in reality, they’re not. Because they’re not Christians, they’re church-goers. The religious, the ones who hear the message, but have never actually responded. The ones who, though they have heard the gospel hundreds of times, have never given their lives to the Lord. I call them marginalised because we often ignore the religious. They just seem to blend in. We know they’re not responding, but we give up on them. A person becomes marginalised when we don’t pay attention to them. Who are they? Surely only God knows their names, but I can guarantee you they are attending your church this Sunday. And they are often lovely people. Well-meaning people. Yet they are people who have never experienced the grace of God. They have heard of grace, but it has never brought them to their knees in repentance and faith. So for them, it’s all happening “out there.” Not “in here.” Not in the heart. I sound a bit judgemental, don’t I? I don’t mean to be. I am merely pointing out an uncomfortable truth about many church congregations. The wheat and the tares are all mixed up, and I hope our hearts break for the tares. They need Jesus just as much as the wheat. This should bother you. People who desperately need Jesus, they’re sitting right in front of you every Sunday! Yet the gospel leaves them cold. They remain tares, while surrounded by growing wheat. That should bother you. And it should also excite you, because the harvest is right there in your building. So while it is good to go out and reach the world, the world is also turning up each Sunday to listen to you. What to do? How to respond to this challenge? Lack of clarity First, it is necessary to do some soul-searching. Is the gospel I preach a watered-down version? Is the grace of which I speak a cheapened version, which makes light of sin, judgement, commitment, sacrifice and love? Is my preaching of the gospel clear enough? No, more. Is my gospel so crystal clear that even the religious can identify what it is? Clearly. Do I offer this good news in a way that challenges people in the way that Jesus used to challenge his listeners? Or have I softened it for my culture so that my audience brushes past it each week without really understanding its true meaning? Identify the needy Know your people. Don’t just let Mrs. Davis brush past you each week without finding out more about her. Be deliberate in inviting Mrs. Davis to events which specifically give opportunities to share faith. Perhaps invite her to Alpha or Christianity Explored (or whichever course contains the gospel message.) In fact, you could do more. You could ask Mrs. Davis to lunch and show her that you love her. And her husband and children. At some point, however, you must be sure that she – and others like her – have heard and understood the gospel. But more than that, you need to know her response. Perhaps she has trouble trusting God, because she was let down as a child. Perhaps it’s all about performance, because she is a perfectionist or someone who relies on external validation. Maybe she can’t believe that she’s worthy of love. How will you know what’s blocking her path to the cross, where her loving Saviour can lift her up and give her life, if you haven’t taken the time to find out? Have compassion on all the religious, for you do not know what has led to such beliefs and behaviours. Until you find out. They may be desperate to respond, but they don’t know how. That is not a problem. It’s an opportunity. Bold messages Don’t be shy about the evil of religion. Jesus wasn’t. He was quite free in calling out the religious, because religion blocks our path to God. The Pharisees were preventing the poor and needy from connecting with God. So we too should call out the deception and lies which lie behind religious observance as a substitute for true devotion to our Lord. No religious person should be able to sit comfortably week after week in a church where Jesus is sovereign. Religion should be called out, and any religious person should be made to feel the inadequacy of religion regularly, and the wonderful alternative that is life in Christ. Grace freely given. Freely received. So don’t be coy about the truth. Don’t be shy about a gospel, which changes lives and offers hope even to those who seem removed and aloof, clinging to religious observance. Not your burden Remember, this is not your burden alone. It is the work of the Spirit to convict, to draw people and to reveal the truth. You are simply the messenger. Your responsibility is to bear witness and to preach the gospel boldly and clearly. God does the rest. So don’t feel burdened by the challenge of religious people coming through your doors. Instead, see opportunity. Be deliberate in seeking out those who tuck themselves in at the back, and scoot out quickly. Don’t let that happen. The evasive, the flustered, the ones who attend infrequently perhaps. As well as the ones whose hearts are hard. They all need the love of a Saviour. We all do. And Jesus was especially compassionate towards those who struggled to connect. The woman at the well, Zacchaeus, Mary Magdalene, these broken ones were offered grace, and grace to overflowing. So should we towards those who seem to stand forever on the threshold of life, yet refuse to enter. Why don’t you get ready for this Sunday by praying for some of the religious who attend your church? Select just a couple and seek them out at the end of the service. Give them time. Show them love. Show them the love of God by your actions and your words. For the love of God extends to all. The religious, the zealots, the prideful, the disconnected, the desperate, the fearful, there is no one beyond his care. Ask him to guide you this Sunday to the ones who are on the edge. He hasn’t forgotten them, nor shunned them. He loves them. So be a conduit of that love. In the power of his Spirit.

The pastor at my mother’s church was wonderful. His name was Bill. His capacity was endless. On Sunday, he welcomed people at the door. He then marched to the front of the church and welcomed the congregation to the service. He read out the notices. During the hymns, he stood at the front, and sang extremely loudly. He then said the prayers, and on occasion followed that with the Bible reading. Finally, he always delivered the sermon. At the end, he said the benediction and marched to the back, where he would greet everyone, charming many of the elderly ladies who comprised the congregation. It was quite the performance. Bill was a star. But you can see the problem, can’t you? Remove Bill, and the whole thing collapses. Which it did on occasion. Who could follow such a superstar? How would anyone else measure up? Yet that is not the most serious problem. The real issue is something I call “being too priestly.” What is a priest? A priest is a person who communicates with God on behalf of the people. By contrast, a prophet communicates with the people on behalf of God. During the Protestant Reformation, the “priesthood of all believers” was a clarion call to the faithful. No longer would Christians rely on a man in robes to speak to God for them. Luther’s story led many in Europe in a different direction. Perhaps the most pertinent verses are these from Peter’s first letter. As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. 1 Peter 2.4-5 A holy priesthood. That’s all of us now, as followers of Jesus. We’re all priests, because through Christ, we all have access to God. All well and good. But what about Pastor Bill? He certainly seemed to be acting in a very priestly way. In church, he did almost all the speaking and he spoke to God on behalf of the people. Surely you can see the problem. It can be summed up with the word “vicarious.” (I don’t think there’s a noun.) When we experience something vicariously, we ride on the back of another’s actions. It requires the other person to act or speak in order for us to gain the experience we seek. It happens a lot in parenthood. Just take a look at the touchline every Saturday morning. Hundreds of parents cheering on their kids. See Peter Parent there? See the look of absolute delight as he watches his son score a goal. He used to play football until his gammy knee ended his career. Now he plays football through his son. And what about the pride filling our hearts when our children perform in a play or win an award at the science fair? Vicarious delight is a sweet joy for parents. In our church life, however, we all stand in danger of leading vicarious Christian lives. For though we each have access to the Father through the Son – a vicarious experience? – we must all approach God on our own. My pastor’s spiritual life is not my own. My wife’s is not mine. My home group leader’s is not mine. I alone must approach God and I do so relying on his grace. As someone once said, “God doesn’t have grandchildren, only children.” And that’s why Bill’s performance, as magnificent as it may have been, was doing a disservice to his congregation. He may well have thought he was leading people to Jesus – and perhaps some did find their way to God through his words – but many others simply sat and rode piggyback on his words. Bill was talking to God for all of us. We had become redundant. So where do the dangers lie? And what should be our response? Too much you As I’ve written many times on this blog, one of the primary roles of the leader is to equip and release the followers of Jesus. In my mother’s church, there was far too much Bill up there. The intention to equip and release his people was totally absent. So think carefully about how prominent you are in your church life. How much effort do you put in to develop lay leaders, releasing gifts within your community? Why not invite someone else to preach once in a while? What about ensuring that others lead the weekly prayer meeting? Still others could visit the sick, or well, do most of the things we do in church. Equip, equip, equip. Then release, release, release. Step aside and let the saints flourish. Miscommunication What are you doing when you utter public prayers? You are modelling intimacy with Jesus. Talking to your heavenly father, who loves you. Your prayers aren’t “on behalf of the whole community.” Each of us, as we hear you pray, approach the throne of grace in our hearts, echoing your words. We don’t just sit back and let you do it for us. If we do, we haven’t understood public prayer. So ensure that your people understand what’s happening when you pray publicly. Avoid leader worship In some churches, the leader is such a strong, dominant character that people can come to believe that the leader’s success is somehow conferred on them. That’s why humility is so important. Leaders aren’t there to succeed. They’re there to serve. Post-Reformation, priests are there to lead people to Jesus. Their role is to make disciples – individuals who each in his/her own way are growing more and more like their saviour. If, at any point, you as the leader suspect that your people are using your expressions of faith as a vicarious means of connecting with God, then something has gone seriously wrong. Modelling, yes, but a priestly function which substitutes for someone’s own devotion to God, no. Absolutely not. Why not preach on 1 Peter 2 in the near future? Sometimes it can be helpful to insert a circuit breaker. Equip and release lots of people who can do public prayer. Step back and let others lead. Have others preach for a while. Seek to make your church a place where many have the chance to express their own devotion to God. The more people who speak to God and about God, the more the priesthood of all believers is visible. It becomes the air that you all breathe. When I and my wife were raising our children, we used to pray at mealtimes and before bed. As they grew, I was very conscious of the dangers of raising young people whose faith was dependent on their parents. That wouldn’t do at all. At some point, they would need to trust in Jesus for themselves. I made very clear that each of us – all five of us – come before our heavenly father, who loves and cares for us. Mum and Dad are not the priests. Mum and Dad may be praying, but when we close our eyes, we’re all talking to Jesus. That’s also true on a Sunday as you step forward to pray. Think, I may be praying, but when we all close our eyes, we’re all talking to Jesus. May my church be a place where everyone knows that . . . When the leader prays, and when we close our eyes, we’re all speaking to Jesus.

A frequent topic of conversation I have with my teenage children is the unreliability of emotions as a guide in life. Maybe I wasn’t as different as I imagine at that age. In the contemporary world, however, the pressure to “follow our heart’s desires,” and be “true to our inner selves” seems greater than I can remember. My children need deep roots if they are to be resilient through a lifetime of challenges. My wife and I can help provide those roots with a stable family life, but that is not the place of ultimate stability. For that, my children need a father far greater than me. Or should I write Father? These thoughts weren’t far from my mind recently as I joined our Living Leadership staff meeting. My colleague, Jess Coles, led our opening devotions by reading from Jeremiah 17, where the LORD presents his people with two contrasting images (verses 5 to 8): “Cursed is the man who trusts in man and makes flesh his strength, whose heart turns away from the Lord. He is like a shrub in the desert, and shall not see any good come. He shall dwell in the parched places of the wilderness, in an uninhabited salt land. Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.” This contrast between two ways to live – a cursed way leading to death and a way of blessing and life – is a familiar motif throughout the Bible. It struck me afresh as I related it to my parental conversations. The key question these verses confront us with is, “Who are you trusting in?” At Living Leadership, we use the word “Refresh” to describe our ministries that support leaders and their spouses to serve in God’s grace. The word resonates with this passage. We want to see leaders who are like trees with deep roots, drawing deeply from the water of God’s grace and bearing fruit for his glory. But we know that leaders are often more like wizened shrubs in a parched place. At Living Leadership, we’re convinced that’s often because leaders aren’t adequately cared for or well-nourished spiritually. It’s our motivation for providing opportunities for leaders to be fed, prayed for and mentored. We also provide churches and organisations with resources to help them fulfil their responsibility to care for their leaders. Take another look at these words in Jeremiah. When you look at them closely, they seem to speak of a deeper reason why we may be dry: it’s because we aren’t trusting in the Lord, but in human beings. That could mean trusting in other people, of course, but it’s more likely in our “me culture” that we’re trusting in ourselves. I can do ministry from my own wisdom, thinking I have the ability or strength to do it, rather than realising my need for God’s wisdom and a recognition that all my abilities and energy are gifts from him. Ultimately, when I allow the flesh to lead me, I end up giving in to its hunger for recognition and praise. When I do that, I lose my connection with the Spirit of God, and I become dry. Then I wonder why I don’t see any good come! Why do others seem to see so little of the glory of God in my ministry? The simple answer is that I won’t see lasting fruit because I’ve lost my connection with the source of life. To use Jesus’ metaphor in John 15, I’ve lost connection with the vine. Tragically, as I drift into this shrivelled state, I’m able to convince myself that all is well by telling myself that my motives are still pure. How do I manage this? Jeremiah 15.9 is very clear. It says: The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it? This famous verse exposes just how dangerous the modern confidence in the inner self really is. I am prone to self-deception. I do not truly understand my own heart, and my sinful nature is expert at finding a million ways to justify actions that are self-interested. In addition, I could win an Olympic medal at blaming others. I would prefer to blame others for my lack of fruitfulness - in fact, I will cast around to blame anyone or anything rather than confess my own lack of connection with the Lord. This topic – the deceitful heart - relates to a podcast series we released over the past few weeks, entitled Ministry Motivations. In those episodes, I explore some key New Testament passages about motives in ministry. One of my points is that our motives will usually (if not always) be mixed. We need to recognise that fact. Even in our best moments of pure devotion to the Lord, there will usually be some element of selfishness. Awareness of mixed motives and the complex feelings of my heart can lead me to despair. The evil one will try to paralyse me, whispering, “If you are so mixed up, how can you serve God?” It all sounds pretty hopeless, doesn’t it? I want to trust in God, not flesh, but I know my heart is always divided and I don’t trust my own judgement. What a miserable man I am! But Jeremiah 17 continues to give me hope. In verse 10, God responds to Jeremiah’s question, “Who can understand [the heart]?”: “I the Lord search the heart and test the mind, to give every man according to his ways, according to the fruit of his deeds.” I can’t understand my own heart, but there is One who can. Nothing is hidden from him. And because he has spoken his Word to us and given us his Spirit, we can learn from him to test our own hearts. As the writer of Hebrews says, “the Word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Hebrews 4.12). As I read and meditate upon the Scriptures and allow the Holy Spirit to convict and teach me, I can learn to put the flesh to death and follow his leading. He can continue his work of writing the law of God on my heart as Jeremiah’s wonderful prophecy of the new covenant foretold (Jeremiah 31.33; see 2 Corinthians 3.3). So, in those moments when I feel paralysed by my impure heart, I can pray the words Jeremiah said shortly after God assured him that he searches the heart (Jeremiah 17.14): Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved, for you are my praise. Here is our hope. God, who knows our desperately wicked hearts, can save and heal us. He can nurture within us clean hearts. He can lead us in his service. So, let me ask you today, “Who are you trusting in?” Yourself or God? Will you follow the flesh or the Spirit? Will you live by your desires or by the will of God? Will your guide be your reasoning or his Word? Will you be a scraggly shrub in a desert place or a fruitful tree by the river of grace? Let the Lord expose your heart. That may be painful, but he cuts deep in order to remove the cancer of self-service and to implant in you a new heart – a heart that trusts in the Lord alone.

Cogito ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. René Descartes, heralded as the first modern philosopher, is one of my favourite historical figures. He gave a justification for knowledge that has engaged philosophers for hundreds of years. Knowledge: justified true belief. Without knowledge, we cannot send rockets to the moon, cure diseases, build bridges, form democratic societies. Without knowledge, we are back in the Stone Age. The history of the world can be seen as a series of events in which humankind has engaged in a desperate search for knowledge. This growth in knowledge has transformed the world. It is light in the darkness. Most important, however, is our yearning for knowledge of God. As a student of apologetics, I could get lost in a library, reading St. Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Luther, and Calvin, drinking in their thoughts and ideas. Perhaps you’ve done the same. I found, however, that it didn’t matter how hard I tried to seal up the argument for Christian belief, there was always a leak. I didn’t accept the leak – I thought the arguments for it were weak – but leaks formed where counter-arguments battered at my foundations. I wanted to know more, so I read more. But the more I grew in knowledge, the more I became aware of how little I knew. This struggle with knowledge has stayed with me my whole life. So, here is a list of things I don’t understand, and may never understand. Why a single act of rebellion has led to a curse on the entire human family. Why God chose to redeem us by creating a nation and setting that nation in conflict with other nations, a reality still played out on our TV screens. Why touching the Ark of the Covenant results in the death of one poor individual. Why the law requires blood. Why God chose Jacob and not Esau. Why Judas Iscariot seems destined for destruction. Why Ananias and Sapphira paid with their lives for their sin. Here’s the thing. I know how God has arranged things. I know that my sin has cut me off from God, but as for why one single act of rebellion leads to the guilt of all humankind, that is not clear to me. Why does Adam’s guilt transfer to me? Because the Bible teaches that it does (1 Cor. 15.22). Asking why, when you think about it, is a request for wisdom which God alone possesses, and it quickly becomes, “give me an answer that satisfies me.” (Think Genesis 3.) Because of my sin, because I am human, I will never truly understand why a man who touches the Ark must die. Nor why the entire human race – bar one family – was wiped out because of the severity of its sin. Just telling me that it’s because of sin may give me the right theological answer, but I still don’t possess the ability to understand it fully. Not really. It’s just too big. So I accept it, and I do so because I accept the authority of Scripture. I submit before my God, who knows vastly more than I, and who tells me that I will never have answers to all my questions. (Read Job.) Why does God require a blood sacrifice for sin? Oh, I know how the symbolism works, I’ve preached on it. But that just answers the “how” question. It doesn’t tell me why. So in the end, the answer is simply this: Because God chose to do it this way. He chose to reveal himself in this way. When my children ask, “why are we going this way?” I will sometimes reply, “Because this is the route I’ve chosen.” My four year-old son doesn’t need to know about the road works on the bypass or the B roads. In fact, that will just confuse him. He needs to be secure that his father is taking him on the route which I have settled upon, because he trusts his father. And that’s it. That’s why faith supersedes knowledge every time. And faith comes through revelation. Faith and knowledge aren’t like countries – where one ends, the other starts, like a border. Not at all. Instead, faith is informed and rooted in our knowledge of God. That knowledge comes by revelation through God’s Word. As Paul writes to the Ephesians, With all wisdom and understanding, he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure. Eph. 1. 8b-9a According to St. Augustine, it is once we believe that the skies clear. Credo ut intelligam - I believe so that I may understand. St. Augustine, Bishop of Hippo (354 – 430 A.D.) Once revelation has come, we understand, but since it is God who reveals, he does so within his own purposes. We may wish to understand why, but so often we are only given how. Knowledge may explain how, but the why, well that resides deep in the mind of God. So, no I don’t know why that man steadying the Ark died. I just don’t. I can probably give you an answer, but I myself am not very happy with it. Perhaps that’s why we are ever struggling along with St. Anselm, who wrote, Fides quaerens intellectum – Faith seeking understanding. St. Anselm (1033/4 – 1109 A.D.) We seek it, yes, but it comes through revelation. It is a gift. We receive it. Revelation becomes clear when we understand that God’s revealed word, the Bible, is his revelation to us. Most of the current debates aren’t actually about . . . abortion, homosexuality, gender . . . but about the authority of Scripture. God’s revelation to us. The story that we’re in. His story. It’s a story dripping with revelation. Abraham – called to go by God. Jacob in a wrestling match with God. Moses – called by God from a burning bush. Samuel – awakened by God’s voice. Elijah outside a cave hearing the still small voice of God. Mary visited by Gabriel. Pentecost, the outpouring of God’s Spirit, and of course, God’s supreme revelation, the Lord Jesus Christ. God reveals himself in his story and we’re in that story. Have I given up my search for knowledge? Not at all. I read and enquire and wrestle with big questions the same as I’ve always done. But when I become anxious, I submit. I accept my own limitations. The other day, I came upon this section from Catherine of Genoa. It brought me to a place of peace. No more is given to us than is necessary in his plan to lead us to perfection . . . therefore I will not weary myself with seeking beyond what God wants me to know. Instead I will abide in peace with the understanding God has given me, and I will let this occupy my mind. If we are to see properly, we must pluck out of our eyes our own presumption. If we gaze too long at the sun, we go blind; in this manner, I think, does pride blind many of us who want to know too much. Catherine of Genoa (1447 – 1510) A couple more thoughts. Why is it important to understand the place of revelation in our lives? Because life can deal out some very hard lessons. The big one – babies die, terrorists kill, death and injustice runs through the world. Not why, but why so much? Why does God not answer my prayers the way I want? Why am I not healed? Why can’t I hear God’s voice? Why do Christians hurt me so much? Why do I have to wait so long? What will God do with all those who don’t believe? Every one of these questions is bashing on the knowledge door. When they do, we can despair or we can remind ourselves of Catherine of Genoa’s words. No more is given to us than is necessary in his plan to lead us to perfection . . . therefore I will not weary myself with seeking beyond what God wants me to know. Instead I will abide in peace with the understanding God has given me, and I will let this occupy my mind. Catherine of Genoa This is when a proper view of knowledge helps. God, by his grace, grants us revelation, which leads to knowledge. Not knowledge about – though that helps – but knowledge of. Knowledge of God is all about relationship. Hear the apostle John’s words. And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. John 17.3 Know you. Eternal life is to know God. Not knowing about God, but knowing him. As we are known by him. Intimacy with our God. That’s the very purpose of his revelation to us. That we would know our Creator, and in knowing him, we would love and serve him. As you face questions that dwarf, frighten and frustrate you today, may you know that you are loved by your God, who has revealed himself to you through the Lord Jesus. He has all the answers, but he won’t give them all to you. Accept it. Submit to him, and give thanks for the revelation that he does give. It comes from his grace that pours out towards you in a constant steady stream. May you reach for him, enjoy him and know him today.

“Hi there. Pastor Bob here. I’m writing a sermon. How’s your day going? Sorry, just got to answer a text . . . so where was I? Oh yes, writing that sermon. I use, er hold on, I use . . . yeeees! England just took a wicket. BBC Sport, just love it. So about that sermon, yes, you can find commentaries at . . . I am so sorry, I just can’t let that pass. Gotta write a comment in Facebook. Who are these idiots? So yes . . . what we were talking about?” Last time, I looked at some of the challenges of digital technology. Today, one more. Let’s start with that monologue above. Recognise it? Of course you do. Unless you’re made of stern stuff, you are probably afflicted with bittiness, like everyone else. Not bitterness. Bittiness. (A word I made up.) No wonder the “bitty” effect of technology is so close to the word “byte.” Our technology has atomised our lives, dividing it into ever smaller chunks, until it almost evaporates into dust. So here is my final C (see last week’s post): Concentration Technology has exacted a heavy toll on us. Notifications constantly demand our attention. Information vies with entertainment for our affection. And as for how we communicate with our friends, we are always a few clicks away from forming lasting friendships. The problem is, we can never quite get there. We never quite measure up and while the dopamine hit from liking posts soothes the brain, it fades like a morning mist. Tap-tap-tap go our fingers, and our brains jump ever more quickly from one thing to another. That’s a problem. It’s a big problem when it comes to our relationship with God. Lack of focus If you have a teenager, I’m sure you’ve noticed that you’re in a competition with whoever is on that screen in their hand. They’re with you, but they’re also with the latest post on Instagram. They’re in the conversation, but they’re not always tracking. Perhaps you do the same. Glancing at your phone during dinner. Or if you’ve prohibited the phone from the table, then later on you’re desperately catching up with WhatsApp messages and texts that pull you this way and that. Maybe it’s time to stop polishing that halo simply because you abstain for half an hour. We’re here but we’re not here. Part of us is always somewhere else. So much so that a whole industry has developed to solve the problem. It’s called Mindfulness. One of the chief aims is to teach people the art of being present. That should pull us up short. We worship a God whose name is I AM. I AM WHO I AM. Being present is pretty much a description of his essential nature. I don’t wish to cajole or criticise, but may I encourage you to think very carefully about the use of your phone? Especially when you’re with others. Every time a phone distracts you from a flesh and blood person in front of you, then – perhaps unwittingly – you are telling that person they are less important than whoever might be texting/calling. That is completely unacceptable. And it’s got to stop. Christ was incarnated. He put on flesh and blood to be present with us, and we owe nothing less than our flesh and blood selves when we minister to those in front of us. Self-Control Remember Galatians 5.22-23? I’m sure you do. The last fruit listed is self-control, and it’s probably the most important fruit when it comes to using technology. It may well be that you struggle to change your environment – you need a laptop and phone for work, and the unmissable Line of Duty is on the BBC tonight – but these devices are tools, and as such, you are their master. You decide which tabs to open, which websites to visit, when to call, what to watch. That’s you, no one else. You can’t blame the tech when it’s your fingers pressing the buttons. If you find your life atomising into smaller and smaller chunks – five minutes here, three minutes there, one minute here, comment, scroll, click – then you have a responsibility to take charge. It may be difficult but it’s not impossible. How is God speaking to you today? What is he saying? Concentration In the Thesaurus, the following words are associated with “concentration.” • Contemplate • Consider closely • Meditate • Focus • Put mind to • Study None of these words sits comfortably with digital technology. The ability to resist the atomisation of our daily lives has a direct effect on our spiritual health. Having cleared a way through the distractions to sit quietly before God, what is going on in our heads when we finally close our eyes? A mind which has become used to jumping constantly from one thing to the next finds it hard to stop jumping. But somehow, we HAVE TO stop jumping. It’s essential. There are no shortcuts with God. You cannot download him, nor are there spiritual satnavs, revelatory icons or digital answers to prayer. We human beings are no more advanced than Elijah outside his cave, or David in the temple. We haven’t “evolved” into more spiritual beings. We are just the same. Alone in a room. Eyes closed. Sitting with our God in the silence. No data will ever change that. The great spiritual writers of the past talk about the journey of the soul. The spiritual disciplines – challenging and demanding though they may be – train us in meditation on the Word and intercession. They urge us to make sacrifices, to prioritise the inner life whatever the cost. Concentration is hard to master at first, but with practice, it can improve. Not only does technology not help us, it has the potential to damage our concentration. At some point on the road, it is necessary to assess how well we are able to concentrate and to discard whatever is hindering our progress. If John Bunyan were writing today, I have a hunch one of Christian’s challenges would involve a struggle with a digital giant! Should we shun technology? Not at all. In fact, as I end, I’d like to recommend a couple of apps. My favourite is Lectio 365. (Thank you, Pete Greig.) Ten minutes of quiet reflection which sets me up for the day. I have also used The Bible in One Year by Nicky Gumbel. You probably have your favourites too. I am not against technology. I am just conscious of its effects, especially on my inner life with God. I hope you are too. When I struggle to concentrate, I find my digital life challenged and sometimes found wanting. If you do too, then perhaps today is the day to make some changes. For a start, turn off those notifications. All of them. Consider each moment a precious gift from God, so that the very act of scrolling causes you unease. Remember, you are not your own. And you do not belong to the big tech companies, though they will do their best to drain you of every second you have. You are God’s child, called to serve him joyfully and gratefully each day. It’s incumbent upon you and I to make wise choices, since every second counts. Every second of the day, lifted up in worship to our God.

Are you a techno-geek? Apps galore on your phone; trawling through reviews of the new iPhone? Or are you a closet (or open) Luddite, who recoils at the very mention of technology? You’re still using your turntable and you pine for the days of the rotary phone. Whichever you are – you’re probably somewhere in between – the digital revolution has transformed your life. It’s done the same for all our lives. It’s not hyperbole to say that the advent of the world wide web has had an impact as great as the invention of the printing press and the internal combustion engine. I imagine a conversation between my present self and my former self if I visited him while he was a teenager in the late 1970s. It would go something like this . . . “Hello Past Me.” “Hello Future Me! So what’s in store for me? I was watching Tomorrow’s World last night and they tell me we’ll all have personal robots soon. Does yours do the cooking and cleaning?” “We-ll, gotta tell you, robots didn’t quite pan out.” “Oh, that’s disappointing. Jet packs to get across town?” “Not so much.” “Just better hoovers and lawnmowers? Thought we could manage a bit more than that.” “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” “Oh yes?” “See the phone on the wall over there? Gone. Now we carry our phones with us wherever we go.” “We have those already. Cordless phones. Nothing new there.” “No, not cordless. Mobile. You can call your mum from the top of a mountain.” “O-kay . . . wow. That is very cool.” “You can text with your phone too.” “Text? You lost me.” “Short digital messages from one phone to another. And the computers that fill a room here in the 1970s have been reduced in size. A lot. They’re down to the size of a briefcase and they’re called laptops.” “Laptops?” “Personal computers. We often use them to do our shopping.” “What?! Shopping from home? No more trips to Woolworths and BHS?” “Yeah, about those shops, they don’t have a great future. Get ready for the names Primark and Sports Direct, but mostly get ready to order everything online.” “Online? You keep on inventing new words.” “Podcast. Netflix. Bandwidth. WhatsApp. Email. There are some more, but online is the important one. It’s when you’re connected to a vast network of digital information, so you can share videos, play all your music, create photo albums, talk to your friends. Oh and companies like Amazon sell almost anything. Next day delivery. Right to your door.” Silence. “Richard Past? You’re looking pale . . . are you okay?” “Sorry. Er, so no more . . . letters? Ph-phones you carry . . . with you. Music and shopping on a computer? I just . . . how is that even possible? And Amazon? Never heard of it.” “Oh you will. The owner’s going into space next week. So anyway, get used to the word “download” and companies like Apple, Facebook and Google. They’re the biggest companies in the world. And a bit of advice. Take out some shares in a company called Zoom.” [Richard Past passes out.] “Past Me! Wake up! I haven’t told you about pausing live TV yet!” How things have changed. The digital age has altered not just the methods we use to communicate, but even the way human beings relate to each other. No more letters. No more crackly phone calls. No more waiting for the six o’clock news. Connection During the pandemic, I have re-connected with some university friends I hadn’t seen for over thirty years. Seeing their faces every few weeks on a screen has filled me with joy. Social media enables us to find old school friends, share photos and videos, and support causes important to us. We’re connected in ways that only a couple of decades ago would have been unthinkable. Yet some studies indicate that many are lonelier than ever. But that’s not my focus today. Choice You can order almost anything from anywhere. It will be delivered within a few days. Why shuffle along a line of shelves offering hardware when you’ve got Screwfix? Why pay Waterstones prices when you’ve got Amazon marketplace? Billions of products at the touch of a button. No wonder we’re overwhelmed. But that’s not my focus today either. Convenience The sheer convenience of it all. So much within touching distance, yet what impact is it having on our lives and the lives of those we serve? This is my focus today. Our digital economy has changed the way we view our lives, and what’s important to us. There is a relentless push towards more choice and convenience, and this impacts how we view our spiritual lives. Show me where in the Scriptures Jesus teaches that a priority for his followers is to create for themselves a more convenient life. You won’t find it anywhere. But don’t think I’m straying into Luddite thinking. I’m not. I’m writing on a laptop, having just texted my wife. My music is playing on a Bluetooth speaker. Later, I will order a memory foam mattress to ease the pain of my aching back. No traipsing around shops, just a browse online, and a few clicks. Instead, my concern is the broader impact of technology on how we view Jesus’ invitation to a life with him. The With-God life, as Dallas Willard called it. Slow and Relentless First, God takes his time. He is slow and relentless. The Israelites spent forty years in the desert. Abraham waited twenty-five years for Isaac. Jacob waited fourteen years for Rachel. (Even seven would have been hard.) The Jews waited hundreds of years for a Messiah. God is not in a hurry, and the spiritual giants of the past attest to how long growth takes. Convenient? Quite the opposite. It’s a long, at times bitter but rewarding path, and convenience has no part in it. Jesus’ Call Second, convenience was probably the furthest thing from our Saviour’s mind as he walked among us. He wept and sweated and bled among us. He experienced disappointment (see my post on Disappointment), he was deserted by followers and abandoned by friends when he needed them most. Convenience? That wasn’t a consideration when he called people to follow him with these immortal words: If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul? Matt. 16.24-26 Technology makes life easier and more convenient. Discipleship moves us in the opposite direction. It calls us to sacrifice our time and resources for the sake of our Lord and those we serve. It’s not convenient to sit with an addict or care for the children of immigrants while their mother seeks advice. It’s not convenient to forgive someone who’s hurt you. It’s not convenient to give up a summer holiday to serve in a kitchen at a camp for teenagers. Nor is it convenient to establish disciplined habits of prayer and bible study. The call to discipleship, however, is never a stick to drum up more volunteers. If you’re prone to cajoling your congregation, playing the “guilt” card, or lamenting publicly why so few volunteer, you won’t find ammunition in Jesus’ words to use on your targets. That’s because the cost of discipleship is paid from the reserves of a heart saturated with the love of God. Convenience is shunned by followers who respond to God, who make the choice to give up their lives gratefully and sacrificially. Because they have grown to recognise the voice of God calling them. Like sheep who recognise the voice of their shepherd. Because they have grown in the grace and knowledge of God. That’s discipleship. And that’s why you can’t download God. Every time people fill your church building, they bring with them digital voices tempting them with ever increasing convenience and comfort. Yet the one thing they need most cannot be downloaded. Because you can’t download God. To follow him, you must take up your cross. Cross over convenience. Hour after hour. Day after day. Year after year.

Today, a look at two powerful words: zeal and awe. First, zeal. Here’s a definition: Fervor for a person, cause, or object; eager desire or endeavor; enthusiastic diligence; ardor. Fervour. Eager desire. Enthusiasm. Ardour. Are you moved yet? Because you should be. They all lead to that over-used word, passion. And so I turn to one of sport’s most enduring icons: Basketball legend, Michael Jordan. He, along with others, gives life to our first word, zeal. What is it that sets apart the great from the highly talented? Zeal. Determination. Drive. Inside the truly great sportsmen and women, there resides a will to win that burns like a fire. It never goes out, it is there all the time. It blots out all other pursuits and interests. Great sportspeople never settle for defeat. They dig deeper, train harder, fight harder to achieve their goals. Losing hurts so badly, they never want it to happen again. Michael Jordan’s drive to win is legendary. It is, to many observers, what sets him apart. Yes, he was very talented, but then so are most players in the NBA. He had something extra. Zeal. Determination. Drive. Desire. Passion. Though it’s now disputed, he played in a game known as The Flu Game in Utah in 1997. It’s sometimes called Pizzagate. Jordan ordered a pizza the night before a critical game in that year’s playoffs, and, as recounted in the Last Dance documentary, it gave him food poisoning. Whether it was flu or food poisoning will never be known. What is undeniable is that Michael Jordan was very ill during the game. He was sweating profusely, covered his head with a towel on the bench, and struggled to run up and down the court. Nevertheless, he managed to lift himself in the second half, ending with 38 points, and carrying his team to victory. That’s what great players do. They overcome adversity. They don’t give up. How? Zeal. Whether you like it or not, the Bible is the story of one vast, millennia-long struggle. It’s a fight. There are conquerors and conquered, victors and vanquished. No wonder many of us love sport so much. And at the centre as the mightiest of all mighty ones is God himself. Victor. Warrior. Supreme in battle. How does he treat his enemy? Hear St. Paul’s words. And having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross. Col. 2.14 He triumphs over them by the cross. He does not travel to Jerusalem to cast out the infidel. He does not call his people to fight the Romans. His victory is earned in blood. His own blood. And as his followers, we demonstrate our zeal by fighting with him and for him. We give up our lives for him. Hear the power of these lyrics from Our God Reigns by Delirious: Yes he reigns, yes you reign, yes you reign, For there is only one true God, But we've lost the reins on this world, Forgive us all, forgive us please, As we fight for this broken world on our knees. As we fight for this broken world on our knees. What passion! What drive! What zeal! Hear now Isaiah’s words. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this. Isaiah 9.7 Our God is zealous. He is determined, committed, driven by his desire to establish his kingdom. Can you feel the passion? Let it ignite a fire inside you. So how should our zeal be expressed? Zeal is simply the drive and determination to love God with all of who we are. It’s a burning desire to do his will, to see him glorified in every sphere of our lives. And it is produced by our second word: awe. Awe A definition: An overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, fear, etc., produced by that which is grand, sublime, extremely powerful, or the like. A growing bank of research shows that awe is good for us. Here is a list of some of its benefits.* Improves your mood Good for your health Helps you think critically Decreases materialism Increases humility Improves time perception Produces a generous spirit Makes you feel more connected to others If scientific research supports the idea that awe is good for us, it’s not just a good apologetic for our faith but a reason why so many areas of life point to God. It seems we’re made for awe. Not just at a football match or in an art gallery, but in the many, varied experiences of life. What produces awe? Not just sport, though sport produces many moments that commentators describe as “jaw-dropping.” Here’s a list that begins with some of my favourites, but takes you further. A Roger Federer forehand A Lionel Messi mazy dribble A Ronaldo headed goal A Michael Jordan fadeaway jumper A Hamilton over-take A Mozart sonata Almost any painting by Rembrandt The Sistine Chapel ceiling Edmund Hillary, Tenzing, Ernest Shackleton (one of the truly great leaders) Nelson Mandela Neil Armstrong Moses and Elijah A supreme act of kindness A sunset A butterfly An ocean swell A literary masterpiece A Shakespeare . . . anything. Anything at all. A newborn's fingers A weightlifter’s muscles Volcanoes, mountains, rainforests The cell The night sky I could, of course, go on. The entire list is a pale reflection of God himself – his majesty, his beauty, his goodness and love. Each one in this list echoes to the wonder of his grace towards us. Where does our zeal for God come from? It’s not from justice or peace or even love. It’s not from the desire to put things right, do the right thing, or build the kingdom of God. None of these things are sufficient to ignite zeal within us. Instead, it comes from a vision of God himself. God alone inspires awe that leads to zeal. For he is truly awesome. Worthy of our awe. Our worship. If your zeal ever flags, there is only one place to go to re-ignite it. Awe. You need a fresh vision of God, whose majesty and beauty are beyond our ability to conceive, our language to express. Take some time to worship him today. You will soon find your zeal for his glory set on fire so that it burns bright until close of day. * Source: Greater Good Magazine – Science-based insights for a meaningful life. 2018. https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/eight_reasons_why_awe_makes_your_life_better

We hope you had a good summer. We're back! Once a week. Every Thursday. Here's our first post from Richard Collins It’s not just the rich and famous who “get press.” We all do. For most of us, it’s not others who are writing, but we ourselves who write our own press. We write it in our hearts and we carry it with us during our daily lives. No one else reads it; we alone know what we’ve written. And God, of course. What is our press? It is all the beliefs we hold about ourselves. They are beliefs that we order into varying levels of importance. When we think about who we are, we often betray what’s important by the questions we ask. In reality, these questions tell us very little about who we are, but we ask them anyway. Here are some: What do you do? Where do you live? How big is your church? Are you married? Do you have children? Where did you go to university? Is your church multi-site? Have you written a book? Let me first state that there is absolutely nothing wrong with these questions. They are asked routinely in order for us to get to know others. Please don’t stop asking them at conferences and when you meet new people. However, there are dangers with them, which must be addressed. In answering them, we give their answers power to define us. Big church means I’m doing well, I’m successful. I went to Oxbridge so I’m obviously very bright and well-connected. The new church plant means I’m a success. By contrast, now that I’m struggling in my marriage, that means I’m a failure. Let’s just stop for a moment and ask how God sees us, how he defines us. I will never forget some wisdom I received from a friend at university. He said this, “you know, Richard, the only thing that really matters to God is who you are when you’re alone with him.” I’ve never forgotten that, and it is why I encourage you to hold the presses. Don’t believe your own press. It will kill you. Never think that because your church is growing, or your children are doing well, or your book is praised, that somehow those things define you. The writer, Henri Nouwen, once gave a talk (with teaching materials for a half-day conference) in which he spoke about three ways we define ourselves. Here they are: What I do What I own What people say about me The dangers inherent in all three are clear to see. And they are especially dangerous to people pleasers. I was listening to Tim Keller the other day and he pointed out that church leaders often seek affirmation. It was a gentle way of describing people pleasers. People pleasers get lost because they don’t just seek affirmation, they crave it. At worst, their identity and their sense of self rise and fall on other people’s words. That is a disaster. Just how reliable are people compared to God? (See our post on disappointment) Be very careful when you hear encouragement, for while encouragement can lift your spirits – and that’s good – it can also deceive you. It can pull you away from your true sense of identity. “Great sermon, pastor!” “So enjoyed visiting your church, Rev. Tom. Your congregation is growing. Well done!” “Heard your son just qualified as a barrister. You must be proud.” “Your daughter is going to theological college? You must be a proud parent.” “Are you speaking at Keswick/New Wine/Spring Harvest? Well done.” I’m a good leader – my church is growing. I’m a good parent – my children are professionally successful. I’m being asked to speak – I’m a talented communicator. Don’t get me wrong, you may well be a good speaker or a good parent or a faithful husband and leader, but if you’re getting that from your press, then you’re looking in the wrong place. Others don’t define you. Nor do they value you the way God does. And their words, though they may lift you, will never, ever have the power of . . . The truth of who you are. Only God knows who you are. And still loves you. Your spiritual life, the person you are becoming, may well find expression out there in the world – the way you live – but that person is not described by achievement or connection or task fulfilment. One day we will stand before our God and we will see him, and he will look into our hearts and he will extend grace to us because, in truth, we only draw breath because of his grace. So hold the presses. Be careful when people speak about you, not because they’re wrong, but because it’s foolish to invest their words with power when only one Person’s words truly matter. Alone in a room. A Bible on your lap. Door closed. When you close your eyes and spend time talking and listening to your God, that’s who you are. No more. No less. No platform. No awards. No “many years of faithful service.” Just you and God alone enjoying each other’s company. That is enough because God’s favour towards you is enough. It’s one of the reasons why we at Living Leadership are determined to stress the importance of rest. We believe that taking time off for a retreat, making time for solitude and silence, prioritising the inner life – these are essential to a healthy spiritual life. Only when you find your true identity in that quiet intimate space between you and God will you find peace. The other voices are chatter. The only press worth its salt is the press that comes from the mouth of God. He writes about you, “My beloved child, the apple of my eye, whom I love more than words can express, you are safe within my care. Saved. Forgiven. Called. Loved.” At last. Press that actually tells us the unvarnished truth. Press that’s worth burying deep in our hearts. Hold onto it and draw on it during the day. As you serve the One who defines you and gives you life.

When was your last big break? I don’t mean the time when opportunity knocked, and someone opened a door for you into your dream ministry role or the longed-for maximum score of 147 in a frame of snooker. I’m talking about a significant period away from your usual working routine. When was the last time you took a fortnight off? Since joining Living Leadership in April 2019, I’ve listened to dozens of leaders describing their work and life patterns. I’ve been impressed by their sincerity and sacrifice. And I’ve been saddened at their hurts and woes. I’ve also been surprised at their unhealthy life rhythms. Or, at least, I would have been shocked had I not been a serial offender on the same point myself, who has needed the rebukes of wiser people than me. I’ve written before in this blog about the importance of a weekly Sabbath. I’ve noted that even many leaders who take a Sabbath weekly seldom take longer breaks. Some have felt unable to take holidays during the pandemic. Some thought the weekly service production machine would grind to a halt without them. Others have told me that their congregation or denomination expects them to preach unless they’re away, so no travel meant no break. Still, others have no excuse that I can see. They’ve just never booked two weeks off at once. I’m sure that’s because of a mixture of noble motivations gone haywire (over-investment, saviour mentalities, love turned possessive) and ignoble ones (insecurity, control-freakery, lack of faith) left unchecked, but, whatever the reasons, the result is often disastrous. So here are three reasons why you need at least a fortnight off every now and then: IT’S GOOD FOR YOU I can’t be the only person who finds that a week off just isn’t enough for me to fully refresh. If I’m off for a week, I spend the first half winding down, and the second half winding up again. If I’m off for a fortnight, I have a whole week in the middle when I can be properly switched off. I think this is universally true when your work entails caring for others, bearing their burdens, and thinking incessantly about complex issues. A proper break lets you come back with fresh vision and a lighter heart. I learn to live again so that I can do out of being rather than be out of doing. IT’S GOOD FOR YOUR FAMILY The value of a prolonged break in my work for my wife and children – and even my parents – is incalculable. The patterns of ministry life entail sacrifice for your family. A big break allows payback for that loss and it’s an investment in those who are closest to you. IT’S GOOD FOR THOSE YOU LEAD Trust me in this – I know it’s hard to accept – but God can do his work just fine without you. Remembering that doesn’t diminish your joy; it turbo-boosts it. And remember there is some (albeit limited) ministry wisdom in the old proverbs that say, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” and, “Variety is the spice of life.” A few weeks without you in the pulpit or director’s chair might be just what is needed for you, your church or organisation, and the relationship between the two. So, if you haven’t already, book two weeks off. Two full weeks. Properly off. Not preaching on the Sunday before you go off or on the Sunday after you return (that means three Sundays off). Not off from your main work but doing something equally taxing. In fact, if you can get three weeks or even four, that’s even better! Just take a big break. In Living Leadership, we’ll be practising what we preach this summer. This is the last blog post before a five-week break. (We’re back on 2 Sept.) We’ll continue episodes of our brand-new podcast, Nigel Lee Archive, throughout August, but they’ve been cunningly prepped and scheduled in advance. Our staff won’t be off for the whole time, but our rhythms of work will be different. A big break in the blog will help us achieve that. (It’s especially important for the wonderful Jess Coles, who manages our communications!) Our summer staff meetings will be different too. We’re not tabling any new work, (unless there’s a genuine emergency) we’re just catching up and praying (tip: bad things come from big breaks from praying!) Maybe you can adjust your rhythm of work in the weeks around your big break too, so you don’t have the common scenario of over-work before you go off and after you return. To help our staff team make the most of our big break, I’ve written a prayer which seeks to recapture the original meaning of the words we use for breaks from work, and which echoes well-known words from Psalm 51.10-12. I invite you to make it part of your daily prayers during your summer break, however big or small. Father, You are the giver of every good gift and I am your finite creation and beloved child. I receive the gift of days without work as a good gift from you. Free me from false guilt and help me to make the most of this time. May my “holiday” be a sequence of holy days, encountering and enjoying you. In my “leave,” may I abandon burdens I was not made to carry, and rejoice in you and your creation. In my “vacation,” help me to be unoccupied with work and its stresses. In my “break,” fracture the grip of unhealthy attitudes and patterns in my life. May my “days off” be unhurried days of delight in those closest to me. Recreate in me a clean heart during this time. Refashion my rhythms in tune with your heart. Restore my joy in your salvation. Renew a right spirit within me that honours you in rest and in work. Refresh my love for you and others. May I live each day without work, aware of your presence and alive by your Holy Spirit, Through Jesus Christ, my Lord, Amen.

It’s all opening up. Schools, shops, businesses, they are all opening up. And so are churches. How do you feel about that? Nervous? Excited? Relieved? Fearful? As you face the next few months, some thoughts on how to navigate the challenges. DISCUSSION AND CONFLICT Some church communities have been meeting for a long time now, and the coming changes will be small. For others, the big change will involve communal singing and the ability to sit physically closer to others. When communities have been separated for a long time, there is an adjustment that takes place as people acclimatize to the new setting. As they arrive, people will carry their expectations and also their fears. These will vary wildly and it is likely that conflict will take place. Some will want mask-wearing. Others will refuse. Some will want social distancing to continue. Others will not. What is a leader to do? Limited discussion Some churches will hold meetings to discuss the way forward. As democratic and sensible as that may sound, it can unfortunately be a Pandora’s box, releasing all kinds of opinions and emotions which cause problems. If you are going to hold a church meeting to discuss the way forward, you need to be very clear about the topics you want discussed, and more importantly, what’s up for discussion and what is not. Limit the discussion or you will be faced with more problems than you started with. But most importantly, lead. Yes, lead. At times like this, leaders must lead. That means consulting with people in the church who lead ministries, making decisions and communicating them clearly. Avoid, at all costs, the urge to please people. This is not a time to please people. It’s a time to be clear in your mind what you’re deciding and why. Once you’ve weighed up all the factors, make your decisions. If you don’t, the church will descend into chaos, with the loudest voices taking control. An unhappy vocal minority can do untold damage. Don’t avoid these people. Talk to them. Listen to them. But don’t bow to ungodly pressure. So . . . How will you address mask-wearing? Will you address the issue of physical contact, when some are still fearful of it? What to do with the huggers? What’s the distance between the chairs? Will your greeters offer to shake hands? Listen. Pray. Talk. Pray. Decide. Pray. Lead. Then pray. THEY’RE ALL GONE! This is perhaps the greatest fear. The true numbers can only be known once we completely open up. Once we do, what will I do if we’ve lost half our people? I’m terrified. A couple of responses. Your God does not evaluate your performance by the numbers who show up on Sunday. Especially during the summer. Remember, it’s the summer! People go on holiday. Students go home. Please, please ignore the numbers. Don’t allow the spaces to fill your vision, when there are people sitting there waiting to hear from God. Even if there are few of them. The quality of your leadership is rooted in two things: God’s calling Your obedience to your calling I won’t wrap you up in cotton wool, and tell you that you’re a great leader, because I have no idea who you are. I don’t believe that massaging a person’s ego is the answer to their fears and insecurities. So if half the people haven’t come back, I have no idea if that’s related to your performance over the past year or not. What I can tell you is that if God has called you, and you are committed to serving him, then the size of your congregation is irrelevant. There is only one fixed point, one stake in the ground that can be used to evaluate leadership, and that is obedience to the Lord Jesus. If you lay down your life in the service of your Lord, and you serve him humbly, learning as you go, then God will provide all that you need. If you lose half your people, then God will be with you. If people are unhappy, but you serve him in all due humility, then you will be secure in his love which bears you up and sustains you. Trust God, for he is faithful, good and true. He does not abandon those he calls. He remains faithful, as long as we are committed to him, and we serve him in all humility. DO NOT FEAR Fear is an emotion and it can paralyse a person. There are two responses to fear which can help: Truth Love The truth anchors us. It is a constant reminder of what is, when the Enemy’s lies call attention to what is not. He is a deceiver, and must be repelled with the truth. That’s why Bible memorisation is so helpful. It calls up the truth, when our fears are assaulting us. St. Paul talks about “taking every thought captive.” When you’re speaking the truth to yourself, your thoughts are focused on God, who is your father, your protector, your strong tower. The truth will encourage you and lift you up. So choose some promises from the Bible, which you have always loved. Memorise them. Speak them out to yourself. Speak them out to others. And love. Of course, love. Why not memorise that wonderful verse in John’s first letter: There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear. 1 John 4.18a When you’re afraid, remember that you’re loved. So very loved. Which is why you should focus on the one who loves you above and beyond all others. FOCUS ON JESUS Not sure what to preach on? These are not days to venture into the long grass of contentious subjects. At some point, leaders must address the role of women, gender, spiritual gifts, baptism, suffering. But not now. Unless the Spirit is very clear, there is only one subject for your sermons: The Lord Jesus. Your people need to be re-introduced to the glory of God exhibited in his Son. Christ is how we live, why we live and for whom we live. Call attention to who he is, why he lived among us, why he died and most importantly, how much he loves us. People are finding their feet again after a very difficult time. Some have lost relatives. Others have lost jobs. Many have been ill. They need a shining vision of the Lord Jesus to guide and inspire them. They need to know that God is faithful and good and cares for them. There’s no better way to communicate that message than with a series highlighting how glorious is the Lord we serve. Call your people to love and worship him. If you do that faithfully, there is nothing to fear.

Some years back, I was anxious to improve my leadership skills. “Hmm,” I thought, “what about a time management course?” When I asked my boss, he just laughed. I was Assistant Principal at Dumfries and Galloway College at the time, and my nickname was taken from a character in Thomas the Tank Engine. No, not Cranky the Crane or Mighty Mac. Not even Samson. Perhaps you guessed it. The Fat Controller! Without missing a beat, my boss turned down my request. “You’re the last person who needs a time management course,” he said. I have always had a fixation with being organised. Combine this with the advent of the digital age – electronic diaries synching across all devices – and I have transformed into a time geek. Not to be confused with a time lord. Recently, I was asked to provide counsel to a pastor in the area of time management. It gave me a wonderful opportunity to pass on my experience as a “human doing” rather than a “human being.” My mistakes have formed me as much as the good things I’ve learned. With age comes experience and, in God’s grace, some late-learned wisdom about how not to do things! As in so many areas, the Greeks had a rich and diverse vocabulary for expressing concepts and ideas. They had two words for time: chronos (χρόνος) – chronological or sequential time. E.g. Matthew 2:7.Then Herod summoned the wise men secretly and ascertained from them what time the star had appeared. This is used 54 times in the New Testament. kairos (καιρός) – an opportune or seasonable time for action. E.g. Romans 5:6. For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. This is used 86 times in the New Testament. WE Vine helps us understand the distinction. He includes this entry: Chronos expresses the duration of a period, kairos stresses it as marked by certain features. Thus in Acts 1:7, the Father has set within His own authority both the times (chronos), the lengths of the periods, and the seasons (kairos), epochs characterised by certain events.* As leaders, we are often obsessed with the ticking clock version of time, when perhaps we should be far more conscious of “numinous” time. Here’s a definition of numinous: having a strong religious or spiritual quality; indicating or suggesting the presence of a divinity. Time that is filled with opportunity rather than limitations. Many of us have experienced the difference between chronos and kairos in church. One Sunday, we’re sitting listening to a dry-as-dust preacher trudging through an obscure text before a congregation of the impossibly patient. Eyelids are sagging, but he just keeps going. Chronos – ticking time – never passed so slowly. The following Sunday, we’re giving rapt attention to a preacher whose presentation is inspiring. Every heart in the room tingles in that one sacred moment – that kairos – when we hear the voice of our Lord speaking to us. A typical response is “I heard from God in that moment (kairos) so that I didn’t notice the time (chronos) passing.” So how can we live ‘kairologically’? What about setting our time devices to “airplane” mode more often? Get rid of the endless notifications. Close the multi-screens on the computer. This will help us to cut out the distractions. It will give us the opportunity to connect to our surroundings, our people, and our relationships. It creates space for kairos – those moments when God speaks to us. In the New Testament, “now” is also a time marker. St. Paul uses the concept of present (νῦν – nun) time (καιρῷ - kairos) in his second letter to the Corinthians. Your abundance at the present time should supply their need, so that their abundance may supply your need, that there may be fairness. 2 Cor. 8.14 The “now” idea of time is expressed in the Latin motto, “carpe diem,” (which, by the way, has nothing to do with fish). It means, “pluck the day,” or is more commonly rendered, “seize the day.” Remember Robin Williams standing on a desk in the movie, Dead Poets Society? Carpe diem! What does it mean? It’s not about instant gratification or self-indulgence. Nor is it about impulsive behaviour, “striking while the iron is hot” or violently grasping for something. Rather, it is a profound moment of deep joy, a gentle, meditative, joyous “living in the moment.” Consider Elijah who stood at the mouth of the cave après-storm. Can you see him? He breathes in the smell of warm rain and hears a voice carried on the rain-scented breeze. He’s experiencing kairos – a sacred moment in tune with his God. Today, I encourage you to join Elijah in that moment – that kairos – fully conscious of the presence of God and the nearness of his Spirit indwelling you. Especially if you’re one of those who is weighed down by the demands of chronos – the ticking clock of condemnation that constantly tolls your tardiness – just stop for a moment. There’s a reason why we use that phrase “smell the roses.” Or “smell the coffee.” Mmm, breathe in the java smell; inhale the beauty of a rose garden. Stop for a moment – a kairos – to enjoy the majesty, the wonder of your beautiful Saviour. *Vine, WE, An Expository Dictionary of New Testament Words, electronic media, Olive Tree Bible Software, 1998-2021

Life can be harsh sometimes. It delivers painful lessons. One of those is disappointment. There’s something soul-destroying about disappointment. It can wear you down, drain you and finally crush you. Unless you learn to deal with it. Disappointment in Myself Our physical lives – We can be disappointed in our own work performance. We’re not disciplined enough, not smart enough, not savvy enough to achieve our goals. We don’t prioritise the right things. We could be a better worker, spouse, father, but we make choices which let us down. The teacher’s report says, “could do better.” As time rolls by, we pay the price for our ill-discipline, our lack of focus, and the disappointment deepens. Our moral lives – Of course, we’re sinners. But we’re not improving, we’re not sinning less. In fact, now we’re sinning in areas where once we didn’t sin. We’re getting older, but if we’re honest, we’re not getting wiser. We’re not monsters, but we’re just coming up short. Again and again. And that’s disappointing. Disappointment in Others Where to start? The church, maybe? I love church, except for all the people. People are disappointing. Period. They will let you down and disappoint you, and there is no world in which that doesn’t happen. Either you will learn that late or you will learn it early. But learn it you must. People who fail to deliver on their promises or those who say one thing and do another. Hypocrisy, rejection, unmet expectations, they all lead to disappointment. Disappointment in Circumstances New Covid rules mean your holiday is cancelled. Your child applied for a university, achieved the grades, but for some reason, they were rejected. Accidents, delays, bad weather, sometimes life can be very disappointing. Disappointment with God There is no getting around this one. It comes in two parts. Prayer – God isn’t answering me. I can’t hear him. I can’t feel him. I can’t see the way forward. Where is he? There is a disconnect between what I’m expected to say each Sunday and my actual experience of him right now. It’s killing me. Life – My mother is in hospital. My brother’s about to lose his children as he goes through a horrible divorce. My neighbour is suing me for something that isn’t fair. An idiot rear-ended my car last week and oh, my migraines are getting worse. A lot worse. I can take a certain amount of pain, but this is just ridiculous. I’m crying out but I’m not hearing you, Lord. That’s the truth. All I hear from people who “counsel” me is “pray more,” “trust Jesus more.” To be honest, I think I’m going to hit the next person who says that to me. God, what is going on?! Still reading? Glad you’re still with me. Now for some thoughts on how to deal with disappointment. Actually, that might be part of the problem. We are so indoctrinated by the Protestant work ethic, we think we can do something to solve this. Do, do, do. Pray more. Trust more. Take action. Solve it. Fix it. But here’s the thing. Disappointment isn’t really something you can solve. There is no to-do list to make it go away. So my first heading is one you might not like or even accept. Acceptance Disappointment is an emotion. It’s a reaction to something that is hurting us. Emotions themselves are like the ocean. You ride the ocean, you don’t change it. The ocean rises and falls. Just like life. Emotions swell and build, then they fade and fall away. Disappointment will run through you, and it will do that whatever you try to do with it. It just will. Accept that disappointment is a part of life. Instead of fighting it, explaining it, arguing with it, just look at it and admit that you are, at times, filled with it. Disappointment makes us feel powerless. It also drags us back into the past, which cannot be changed. The future, by contrast, is held out to you by God. An invitation to live in his grace, to enjoy him, praise him, to believe that whatever has happened, God has been there, is there, and will be with you as you move forward. His faithfulness is unfailing, even when you don’t feel that he’s there. Christ’s Example The Lord Jesus did not float along six feet above the ground, removed from the agonies of life. He formed real relationships with real people. Those people disappointed him over and over again. You can see his frustration in these verses from Matthew’s gospel. “You unbelieving and perverse generation,” Jesus replied, “how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy here to me.” Jesus rebuked the demon, and it came out of the boy, and he was healed at that moment. Then the disciples came to Jesus in private and asked, “Why couldn’t we drive it out?” He replied, “Because you have so little faith.” Matthew 17.17-20a He sounds impatient, doesn’t he? But I think he’s also disappointed. He knows he’s working with imperfect materials, but he had hoped for more. And the disciples still haven’t understood. Not really. But it’s during the Passion that he is stung the most. Simon Peter, his best buddy, lets him down. We often focus on the verse about Peter weeping bitterly, but spare a thought for Jesus, who, in the midst of his cruellest hour, is abandoned by his friend. Though he knew it was coming – he prophesied it, of course – it must have hurt very much. And this takes us back to earlier in the story - the Garden of Gethsemane scene which we all know so well. I’ve often wondered about Jesus’ plea for his father to “remove the cup.” He knew perfectly well that his path was fixed before him. There would be no escape. There was no alternative plan to save humanity. Yet still he prays. And sweats blood in his distress. How heartening to know that even Jesus prayed prayers of pure emotion. He knew it was just emotion, that his father had no intention to “remove the cup.” Yet still he prayed. He poured out his agony to his father. He wanted to know that his father was right there with him during his darkest hour. I think that is a picture to carry us through disappointment. Our Lord knows how disappointing life can be, and how much pain we carry, but he’s right there with us. And he hears us when we cry to him. So when you’re disappointed, turn to him, and pour out your heart. Coming out of lockdown may lead to tremendous disappointment for many leaders. But God is right there with you. He’s always been with you. So share your heart with him. He’s been there too. Disappointment the Teacher You knew this was coming, didn’t you? Allow me to begin with a quote from the writer, Larry Crabb.* Disappointment is inevitable. More than that, it is good. Following Christ must take us through seasons of disappointment, because Christianity remakes our dreams before it fulfils them. Christianity remakes our dreams before it fulfils them. Marinate in that thought for a while. We are not what we should be, and without God, we are not even capable of grasping the extent of our need. We need to be remade, and disappointment is part of the process. Again, Larry Crabb. Christianity promises happiness – that’s part of the appeal – but we will not find it by traveling the route we’ve already laid out in our heads. Disappointment, severe enough to be called death, is unavoidable in a true spiritual journey. Listening to a podcast the other day, I heard of a writer who wrote about death and resurrection. She said that the Christian life requires repeated death and resurrection for us to grow. Every challenge, every fractured dream, every soul-destroying disappointment can kill us, but in dying we surrender our own selfish ways in order to experience the resurrection, the new life of our Lord within us. Disappointment hurts most when we cling to our unrealised dreams, dreams which are based on our own ideas of happiness or success or fulfilment. When we die to those dreams, we are free to embrace the resurrection life of Jesus. That is a truth worth pondering today. Let me end with a final quote from Larry Crabb. Soul-crushing struggle supplies the energy that nudges us along in the process of shifting from token hope, the kind that generates pleasant feelings, to the real thing that anchors us through life’s storms. None of us wants token hope. Pleasant feelings are not enough. We want the real thing. Of course we do. But it’s only when life’s disappointments re-shape us, re-form us, that we die to our selfish dreams. Death and resurrection. We must die, if we want to be born to eternal life. Resurrection life. The real thing that anchors us through life’s storms. *All quotes from Larry Crabb are from Becoming a True Spiritual Community. 1999.