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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“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.