Christmas is over. Or is it? I like to think that there’s an aspect of Christmas which should remain throughout the year: saying ‘thank you’ for the gifts we receive. Every day. Not just on 25 December. The following is inspired by Emmet from The Lego Movie. In his first scene, he gets up, and with a chirpy voice, says ‘good morning’ to everything in his apartment. So whether you know Emmet or not, read this with his enthusiasm and joy . . . (Yawn) . . . Wow, what’s this? I can see. Eyes – how amazing are these things?! And I have arms, and legs, hey that’s so cool. Some legs for walking. And I can hear the birds. Ears – neat, I love them. So flappy when you tug on them. And, hold on, something smells. Must have a nose. And socks in need of a wash! Excellent. And this bed, wow, I love beds, so useful for resting in. And these walls around me, and the ceiling and hey, look over there, some clothes. Let me get up and check this out. Wow, a whole wardrobe full of clothes and all those shoes, all for me? Whoa, that’s a lot of shoes. Time to wash and go for breakfast. Water? I love water. Drink it, bathe in it, wash with it, and I just turn the tap? A basin with taps . . . so amazing. And I almost forgot, a wife still asleep in bed. She is going to be so useful. For loving and talking to, of course, not just the stuff she can do for me! Hey, I love these stairs, so useful for going down one level. And whoa, I love this fridge. Let me hug it! Full of food too. And tables and chairs and pictures on the walls, and a sink and a stove and . . . I love this kitchen. Thank you so so much for all of this. Let me see, a front door, and in here, a desk and a computer and down here, more walls and wow, you’ve given me a lot of books. How did you know I like books so much? Hey, a couch and a TV and more books and a rug and a teenage son, who is looking at his phone. A son? Wow, what a gift he is. And you gave him a phone? Are you sure that was wise? I’m just kidding. I saw another phone in the kitchen. That must be for me, right? Thanks so much. Let me open this window here. Trees? I get to share the trees with everyone else? I love that. And the flowers and the grass and the sky up there, it is all so beautiful. The colours and clouds and hey, look over there, a neighbour. I’m guessing he received gifts this morning too. He must be thrilled, just like me. Hmm, he doesn’t look over-thrilled. Oh well, we’re all different, right? Hold on, is that a car for me outside? And a bike? I love bikes. For me? Wow. Thank you so much. I’ve just got to say, this is overwhelming. I do this every morning and every time, I just have to sit down and take a moment. I just don’t get how I deserve any of this. Each day I mess up, but every morning, here are all these gifts. Again. So many of them. Everywhere I look, more and more gifts. How does that work? I’ve given up trying to figure it out. I just enjoy it every day. So, thank you, thank you for my Christmas presents. I just love celebrating Christmas every day. We are constantly adding to our library of articles. In our latest article, Peter Hicks discusses how you can provide support those who are contemplating suicide, and how you can support those who have been bereaved through suicide.

Gaius Octavius - Caesar Augustus - was the most powerful man in the world. As the first Roman emperor, he conquered Egypt, Dalmatia, Spain, and territories in Africa; his reign ushered in the era of Pax Romana. After being adopted as son and heir of Julius Caesar, he founded the Temple of Caesar, and was hailed as Imperator Caesar, divi filius - Commander Caesar, divine son (son of a god). Quite a guy. In the Bible, he and his mighty legate governor, Quirinius, are a thirty-three word footnote in Luke 2. In God's plans, the mightiest person is only relevant insofar as they are a small part of the story in which God arranges the events to get Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem. Isn't that great? God is in control of empires and emperors - indeed the whole of history – in order to bless the world with his Christ. The biblical writers’ focus is not on the powerful, but on the little people, like the holy family and the shepherds. Later on, Simeon and Anna, two seemingly insignificant people, take pride of place. History, viewed from his perspective, isn't about the impressive-looking people. It’s about the little people. During this Covid-dominated Christmas period, it is perfectly understandable to ask whether God is actually in control of world events. But that is precisely what Luke tells us. He oversees the entirety of human events, in order to move the characters in the story around. The big picture serves the storyline, ensuring that the events in the Christmas story take place according to his perfect plan. It’s a plan, a storyline, which is centuries in the making. Here’s the prophet, Micah, writing hundreds of years before the birth of Christ: In that day, declares the Lord, I will gather the lame and the exiles and those I have brought to grief . . . but you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel. He will stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty and name of the Lord his God. And they will live securely, for then his greatness will reach to the ends of the earth. And he will be their peace. (Micah 4.6; 5.2; 4-5a) The exiles and the lame – the small people – will be given an incomparably great king by God. And this king will be for them and with them. But you’d be forgiven for having some doubts. If God is supposed to be in control, why send a pregnant young woman eighty miles to Bethlehem? Or couldn't he have at least pre-booked them a room at the Travelodge? Or its equivalent, an inn, perhaps? And, honestly, if you want to proclaim the birth of the Son of God, the King of Israel, why do it to smelly illiterate nobody shepherds? We can be so familiar with the story that we no longer pause over these strange details. Bethlehem was Sheep-Town. It produced livestock for the temple sacrifice industry. On its nearby hills, many years before, a young boy called David was looking after sheep, when Samuel, led by the Spirit of God, came to anoint him as King over Israel. Luke is well aware of this connection, and he wants his readers to see it too. Here is how he records the words of the angel Gabriel to Mary: Your child will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end. (Luke 1.31-32) The baby born in David's town, Luke is telling us, is the greater David. He will occupy the throne not just of Israel, but of the universe, and he will rule in righteousness and justice for ever. He is the Prince of Peace foretold by Micah and Isaiah. But why be born of the little people, and with the little people? Well that really is the whole point. From God's perspective, everyone is little - and greatly loved. Nobody is mighty. The Incarnation is about God being for all people, and especially for those who are often considered non-entities. St. Paul writes, You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that through his poverty you might become rich (2 Cor. 8.9). Jesus embraced poverty in order to make the unfathomable riches of God's grace available to everyone. If God had come as a wealthy person, then grace would be out of reach to all but the wealthy. Instead, he chose to come as a refugee, a child born into poverty. Therefore what he has to give is accessible to anyone who is prepared to come on his terms. The King comes to the King’s town and he has the rights of the King, but he doesn’t take them. For your sake. And for mine. It’s interesting that shepherds were considered ceremonially unclean. God came to people who couldn't participate in the religious life of the nation. Later on, the Magi, who were Gentiles of course, they too were unclean. God was breaking down every barrier through his Christ, and did so most decisively thirty-three years later when we are told that his crucifixion ‘tore down the dividing wall of hostility.’ (Eph. 2.4b) We hear much more about the shepherds than we do about the emperor. An angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them. This is God's great messenger, a mighty figure, who featured in the Old Testament, accompanied now by the Shekinah glory from the tabernacle and temple. God's mighty presence, his glory, had departed from Israel at the exile, and it had not been seen for six hundred years. Now his glory returns. On a hillside at night. With nobodies for an audience. It is not a nice Christmas card scene. It is a fall-on-the-ground-eviscerated-by-the-presence-of-God moment. This is the breaking-in of Heaven, with a demonstration of the glory that Jesus had with the Father before the creation of the world. The shepherds were right to be terrified. So should we be. Why aren't they just plain annihilated? Because he says, Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that shall be for all the people. Today in the town of David a saviour has been born to you. He is Christ the Lord (Luke 2.10-11). Jesus is why. He is the one who takes us, without fear, into the very throne room of God. Into the heart of glory. He is our king. We are in him. He has won the victory over judgement, sin, and death, and he carries us with him in his triumph. So as we think about outcasts and little people this Christmas - shepherds, a teenage peasant girl, and most of all a helpless babe – will you share in the angel’s song? Will you give ‘glory to God in the highest?’ Will you join with those unnamed shepherds in worship, glorifying God and praising him for all that you too have seen and heard? He is worthy. So very worthy.

You’ve probably experienced the scenario of the unwanted Christmas present. The sinking feeling and feigned gratitude as the paper falls away to reveal yet another pair of socks, bottle of smelly stuff, or saggy hand-knitted jumper. Or, when the socks are on the other foot, the hollowness in someone’s eyes as they mumble that your gift will be ‘really useful.’ Unwanted gifts often reflect poorly on the giver – a lack of understanding (‘I’m sure he’ll like this – I would’) or simply desperation (‘I’ve got to give her something!’). Occasionally, though, they reflect something that’s not right in the recipient, perhaps ingratitude born of resentment (‘I don’t want anything from him!’). So it was with King Herod. Herod’s image as the pantomime villain of the nativity play is largely supported by the historical sources. Client king of Judea under the Romans, he was ruthless, opportunistic and megalomaniacal. If he had a redeeming feature (kind of), it was his grandiose building projects – monuments to his narcissism. It is, however, Matthew’s account (Matt. 2.1-8) that reveals the full measure of the man. Fearful that many in Jerusalem – incited by exotic Magi – would believe the baby in Bethlehem to be the rightful king in David’s line, Herod schemed slaughter under the pretext of worship. He is the ultimate ungrateful Christmas gift recipient – his lips saying thanks while his heart plots murder. What can this evil king teach us as leaders? Might we be ‘little Herods,’ signing cards and singing carols that proclaim gratitude for God’s gift of Jesus, yet refusing to abandon the throne of our lives – or our churches – to make way for him? To worship a newborn seems humbling enough, but the real challenge of Christmas is that, as we worship him, this baby grows in stature to demand our absolute loyalty. His true purpose is to depose all rivals and direct our destiny. What would it look like for us to lead in 2021 as people captivated by adoration of the Lord Jesus? How might we set people free to worship the humble Saviour, rather than enslaving them to our ambitions? Could we, like Herod, be so distracted with vainglorious ministry projects of our own imagination that we miss the simplicity of the gospel of God made man? To enter 2021 as servants of Christ, we must seize the opportunity Christmas 2020 offers to climb off our thrones and journey from the power-base of Jerusalem to the insignificance of a manger in Bethlehem. I know this year it will feel different. I know you’re feeling tired and worn out. But, trust me, the journey will be worth it. As you unwrap God’s gift to you in Jesus, stripping away the layers of cynicism and frustration, prepare to be enthralled once again by the one Christmas present who never disappoints. In partnership in the easy yoke. Paul To hear more from Paul about enjoying Jesus this Christmas, listen to our Christmas 2020 episode of the Living Leadership podcast. We are always adding to our archive of Articles. One of our latest articles unpacks pastoral responses to depression.

Meaning at Christmas. Not meaning of Christmas. You’ve probably read lots about that. Or preached sermons on the subject. No, today this post is about what Christmas means to you. As a leader. So let me start with a question. The church is packed. Little candles in all the alcoves. Lots of visitors. It’s Christmas Eve, the one time in the year when the church congregation doubles. But you’ve lost your voice, so instead of you standing there welcoming everyone, it’s your second-in-command (curate, youth pastor). You will play no part in the service. How does that feel? Take a spiritual health check. I ask this because a church leader said to me the other day, 'well, you know, we leaders are control freaks so Christmas is especially hard this year.' Ouch! My friend knows that hyperbole often contains humour, but his comment caught my attention. I don’t believe for a moment that all leaders are control freaks, but I do think there might be an issue here with performance. This affects all those whose job involves public performance. Actors, dancers, politicians, rock musicians . . . and church leaders. Just how important is it for you to be up there in front of everyone? Take a look inside. How do you find your meaning at Christmas? Henri Nouwen once produced some training, which invited his students to think about their significance under the following headings: I am what I do I am what I own I am what people say about me Two of those directly affect church leaders. The purpose of the training was to help people unhook themselves from these statements, to find significance in Christ alone. I have been in meetings in which talks are allocated, and it has become clear that a leader is much more concerned that he is the one preaching the gospel than that the gospel is preached. That’s a problem. I know leaders whose entire significance and identity is bound up in leading – preaching, serving, being seen everywhere around the church. That’s a problem. I don’t need to tell you, dear reader, where your significance lies. Or your identity. So what’s the answer? First, we have many identities and it’s quite normal to embrace identity through profession. The Bible describes people by their professions – tent maker, artisan, soldier – nothing wrong with that. A problem arises, however, when profession overwhelms all our other identities, when significance is found almost exclusively in professional activity. Second, it can be helpful to remind ourselves that we are physical and we are frail. We don’t float around on a cloud. We live and breathe among others. So it is quite natural and normal to have needs. (Henri Nouwen’s training doesn’t deny this at all.) As such, the desire for encouragement, for connection, for our work to be meaningful, these things are all part of life. We are created with needs and desires and some of those God has designed to be met by others. Encouragement is a good thing. Second, it’s really okay to find pleasure in our work, in our service, in our speaking. It would be odd if we didn’t. Yet, with that in mind, what can go wrong? When significance is rooted entirely in performance, we are in danger of losing our footing. When we don’t just desire encouragement but crave it; when we find that we’re lost unless we’re serving, then something has gone wrong. Our identities have been surrendered to external forces. Somewhere along the line, Christ has been demoted, though of course we would never admit to this. Paul writes, ‘to live is Christ.’ Some have re-written this as, ‘To be a leader who serves and preaches, that is me in Christ. If I don’t serve and preach, then I’m a nobody.’ That final part rolls along in our subconscious, often repressed by more busyness. The busyness is often pursued to fill the hole. If you resonate with what I’ve written, I certainly can’t solve your problem. Only you can take steps towards health. Perhaps this pandemic – and the unique circumstances it enforces – will provide you with an opportunity to spend a bit more time alone. No meetings, fewer sermons to prepare, no one in the building. So take time to enter your Mind Palace. Go straight to the Soul Room. On the wall is a picture with which you are very familiar. It’s a nativity scene, one in which the baby Jesus is surrounded by three figures – Mary who is holding the child, Joseph standing behind her, and to the side, an angel kneeling in worship. This Christmas, however, you will approach it with a different mind-set. Today, you are the child, held tenderly, not by Mary, but by the triune God. You are right at the centre of the scene, not because of what you do, but because of the Three-in-One who cares for you. Deeply. Do not worship the image, of course, simply enjoy being held. This Christmas, it is enough simply to be cradled in the arms of your God. In this scene, You are not preaching. You are not serving. You are not leading. You are not doing anything. You are just receiving. Your need for love, for encouragement, for security, for peace . . . is entirely satisfied by your God. This year, turn towards Him and find Him sufficient. He is sufficient. He loves you. And that’s enough.

Editor’s Note: The following is a post by one of our new Associates, Richard Underwood. Richard has been a friend and collaborator with Living Leadership for many years. He has an infectious sense of humour, which you will pick up from his post. He also brings with him bags of wisdom. We’re grateful to him for this particular contribution. Here’s a little about him: After ten years in industrial relations, Richard pastored two churches in East Anglia before serving the FIEC until his retirement in 2017. He still shares in the leadership of Christchurch, Harborough, a church he and his wife, Philippa, helped to plant in 2010. They have two children and three grandchildren. Here’s his post: A while back, I had the opportunity to speak on Resolving Conflict and Coping with Criticism. The whole exercise was unlikely to be a barrel of laughs so, in order to break things up and add a bit of colour, I decided to stop after the section on conflict, and give the convener (a former friend) the opportunity to critique what I’d just shared. I had decided that I would cleverly riff off his comments with my pièce de resistance on how to handle criticism. You can see where this is going, can’t you? All was well until we got to the critique. I was expecting a few banal generalities; instead my friend treated us to a devastating critique. What made the experience especially painful was that he was right. Dead right! The audience held their collective breath, my wife (who was supposed to be helping me) could hardly contain her mirth, and I looked for the floor to open up or, even better, for the Lord Jesus to come back. All ended well; the convener and I are still (firm-ish) friends. But I learned two valuable lessons that day. First, don’t try to be clever (unless you are). And second, before you give talks on coping with criticism, learn to cope with criticism. So, let me have another go. Here are three suggestions. Look at the source There are two kinds of critics. The first are for us. They respect us greatly. And when they have something to say, we do well to listen. The Psalmist writes, Let a righteous man strike me—that is a kindness; let him rebuke me—that is oil on my head. (Ps. 141.5) The writer of Proverbs puts it equally graphically. Wounds from a friend can be trusted. (Prov. 27.6) But what about the second kind – those who criticise thoughtlessly? It feels like they’re against us. It’s tempting to write them off, but don’t. Try to see beyond the obvious. Often, what feels like unfair or unwarranted complaints are a symptom of unresolved pain. Do you know what’s going on in their lives when they come out with harsh words? Don’t step away from them; take a step closer. Use this opportunity to understand them a little better. Pray for them— even when you don't like them. Look for the grain of truth Just because I’m on the receiving end of criticism doesn’t mean that I’m right. I need to consider prayerfully what my critics are saying, in order to see if there’s something I can learn. Even if they’re wrong, this is a God-given opportunity to model grace, and to win friends not arguments. The healthiest people emotionally are those willing to face up to who they are. I know it’s scary, but I need to ask God what he wants me to learn from this experience. I need to pray for the grace to develop a winsome spirit. And finally, I need to learn to laugh at myself and not be too hard on myself. Look at my relationships Criticism raises the issue of how I relate to other people. First, I need friends around me who can speak truth into my life. It’s a gift when I can talk to friends about the criticism I’m receiving. But second, the sting of criticism also helps me to reflect on the way I treat those who aren’t necessarily my friends. It may prompt me to be more ready to offer encouragement, rather than to dish the dirt. How important it is that Christian leaders foster a culture of encouragement and affirmation. So, criticism: friend or foe? Expect it; it comes with the territory. But above all, value it. Turn it into a friend. Look at criticism through the lens of the gospel. It reminds us of our need for God and his grace. It might just draw us closer to the Lord Jesus. At times, it can equip us to serve others more lovingly – even our critics. And when we do that, we reflect God’s glory more beautifully. We are constantly adding to our library of resources. In our latest article, Auriel Schluter shares Steph's story of experiencing depression.

Living Leadership is all about grace. You may have noticed that. We love grace. There’s nothing we like to talk about more. It excites us when weary leaders and their spouses come to us and get a sense of God’s love for them. It is such an encouragement to see leaders filled with joy, the kind of joy that picks them up for the next phase of ministry. We are thrilled when people know they can safely share painful, even shameful, things without being rejected out of hand. We rejoice when a brother or sister shares their weakness, when they discover that God’s power is made perfect at such times (2 Cor. 12.9). Grace is what we are all about. And grace is why we exist. The amazing, unmerited favour of God towards us that pours out His blessings on us in Jesus Christ. It’s the place where we stand. It’s the currency of the kingdom. It’s the theme of forgiven hearts. Wow! I could keep on writing, but I’m afraid my words would fail to do justice to the full meaning of grace. Instead, I want to say that grace can still say no. What do I mean? In reality, grace always says no to us. In saying yes to God’s blessing in Christ, it says no to everything that is not Christ-like and within the will of God. Listen to the apostle Paul writing to Titus (Titus 2.11-12): For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age. Grace is your personal trainer. It doesn’t just pop up to bring you salvation in the narrow sense of stopping you tumbling into hell when your race is done. Nor does it reach down and pull you up by your shoelaces into heaven. No! Grace wants to save you thoroughly from every last vestige of sin, and for all the blessings of eternal life. Grace gets you off the couch of complacency, and gets you exercising your spiritual muscle. It teaches you to say no to everything ungodly and worldly in your own desires. It calls you to self-control that is essential for godliness. The depth of his forgiveness, its cost displayed on the cross, and the abundance of his love - these truths are a rallying cry to a holy life. They offer the motivation to seek to become like Christ, and to reject the person you would be without his grace. That’s why grace so often says no. If we haven’t experienced that recently, then perhaps we aren’t really resting in God’s grace, no matter how much we talk about it. But here’s the rub. Grace also says no to others sometimes. Christian leaders can be better at seeing where grace is saying no to them than understanding how it says no to others. In our own lives, we know the struggle to restrain our worldly passions, but when it comes to others, we often tend to assume the best. We excuse ungodliness because we know how much we need grace. ‘There but for the grace of God go I,’ we say. Now, let me be crystal clear. We need to have the humility to recognise our own weaknesses; we are most certainly not beyond temptation. And we must show grace to others, being ready to forgive wrongs done to us. When someone sins, we should seek their restoration as a brother or sister. But please bear with me when I say, that doesn’t always mean restoring a beloved sister or brother to a position of responsibility in the church. We know this when it comes to safeguarding. Some offences should disbar a person from working with children or adults at risk, even if they have expressed credible repentance. That doesn’t deny grace; it expresses wisdom. We realise that protecting vulnerable people means setting limits on who can serve with them. It also recognises that repentance for past sin does not mean a person will never be tempted again. We limit our freedom for the sake of others. This same principle runs true in other situations. The guy who is given an opportunity to serve in some capacity, and shows himself inept and unteachable. The person in a leadership team who shows a pattern of acting in ways that hurt others or foment disunity, perhaps by gossiping outside the meetings. The woman who signed up and was put on a rota for some kind of service, but repeatedly lets the team down by not showing up. This is a tough topic to address. I already anticipate some responding by saying, ‘but we’re people of grace, which is limitless. We should give our people endless grace in the same way.’ Well, I agree, but only if we are thinking of grace as our trainer. Grace infused with wisdom. First, when we deal with such situations, we need to consider what sins have been committed, if any. Where there is sin, we should aim for restoration of relationships through forgiveness and reconciliation. But we should not confuse that goal with the separate issue of the person’s suitability to serve again in the same capacity in the future. Grace says yes to forgiveness and relational harmony. But it says no to people of unproven character or untested gifting being trusted with responsibilities they cannot bear. That is not grace, it is lack of wisdom. How, then, to respond? Of course, we must not simply remove the person. Grace also trains us to stick with them and work with them for their growth. Each person is different, of course, but often it’s necessary to see if the character flaws are overcome by the Spirit’s transformation. We should try to identify latent gifts that can be developed. Having said that, grace is not averse to removing a person from a position for which they are ill-suited. In fact, grace, properly understood, demands it. Separating out the yes of grace from the no of grace is a vital task in leadership. It requires great wisdom and insight. It cannot be achieved by trying to keep people happy. It requires strength and compassion, both expressed in the right way and at the right time. No human being has infinite wisdom, so we must come before God to confess our fears and failures, our own need for his grace. For it is only by his grace that we can become leaders who discern when to say no and when to restore a person to former responsibility. Make tough decisions, when grace requires it. For the sake of God’s glory. Do you want to be informed when we publish new blog posts? Join our mailing list and select "podcast and blog updates"

I’m in my Mind Palace. (See previous post) I’ve strayed into the Knowledge Room. It contains a lot of books, as you would imagine. I could spend all day in here. It’s like the Tardis – much bigger on the inside than you might expect. But that isn’t the half of it. I enjoy the accumulation of knowledge. Always have. I have a degree in Christian apologetics, so for three years, I spent hours in the Knowledge Room, organising the shelves and reading lots of books. Here are some of the subjects I particularly enjoyed: The Mind/Body Problem Sovereignty/Free Will The reliability of the New Testament Hermeneutics – my favourite topic Law and Grace Perhaps there are some on that list that you also enjoy. I dedicated myself to acquiring as much information and argument as I could. I believed that the acquisition of knowledge was a good and holy task. And I still do, to a certain degree. Knowledge, I believe, girds the faithful heart. It enhances faith. Note how often the New Testament writers use the term, ‘grow in the grace and knowledge of the Lord (Christ, God).’ Why? Because knowledge is a good thing. But what do the biblical writers mean by knowledge? Clearly, they don’t simply mean information. Knowledge of God in the New Testament is related to an experiential connection to God. This is why Christ states in John’s gospel, Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. (John 17.3) The great gift of eternal life isn’t ‘living for a very, very long time,’ it’s intimacy with God, knowledge of God. Good apologists know this, of course. They know perfectly well that information and argument is not the same as intimacy with God, that both are covered by that word ‘knowledge.’ Yet a problem remains. For while we may distinguish between knowledge as intimacy and knowledge as information, we’re still left with the challenge: why are we engaged in the latter – the acquisition of knowledge? Some argue that it is about love. Loving God with our minds by gaining knowledge. Indeed, there are many reasons why Christians should love God with their minds, but for the apologist, its primary purpose is this one: The defence of the faith. 1 Peter 3.15 – a rallying cry – is often quoted. Give an answer – an apologia – to those who ask. To do that, information and argument are essential. And that’s fine, as far as it goes. But beware. Is knowledge (information and argument) primarily concerned with the defence of the faith (1 Peter 3.15)? Sometimes I think apologetics should come with a spiritual health warning. First, it can tend towards pride, which is fatal. Those in student ministries, where apologetics takes a prominent role, need to be careful. Lots of extremely well-informed students who can dismantle their opponents with ease, well, that isn’t necessarily a good thing. But there is something which is more serious. I’m not sure that loving God with our minds is primarily about defending the faith. Yes, it has its place, but knowledge has another more important purpose. Come back into the Mind Palace. Apologists who enjoy the Knowledge Room can get lost in there. Another book on consciousness? Don’t mind if I do. Some more C.S. Lewis so you can discuss the Argument from Reason with your room mate? I’m in. All fine – up to a point. The problem is, the Knowledge Room is really designed to encourage us to go down to the room at the end of the hall. To the Soul Room. Before you venture down there, however, let’s take a closer look at the Knowledge Room. You think it’s just a room full of books? Nope. That’s a monumental mistake. In truth, it is a wonder to behold. It is far, far bigger than you could possibly imagine. Come on in and take a seat. It’s made of leather, so you feel a bit like J.R. R. Tolkein and C.S. Lewis during their days at Oxford. The bookshelves are lined with every kind of book you could imagine. They contain as much fiction as non-fiction, for stories are a deep well of knowledge. Get up now and go to the broad, heavy curtain which covers the entire wall at the end of the room. Pull it back and kneel in wonder. Before you lies a scene which stops the heart. Spiralling planets and stars stretch into infinite dark space. The vision fills you with awe. The room is not the Tardis at all. It is the universe. There is more knowledge in this room than your tiny mind can take in. You are a speck of dust, so small your size can hardly be measured. This is what the writer of Job is conveying in chapters 38-40. The writer of Ecclesiastes is also wrestling with this deep truth. We humans, we seek to understand God’s ways, and we seek meaning and significance. Yet, we are not – and never will be – like God, the imago dei notwithstanding. We discover knowledge, it is revealed to us, but we are not in the category of Creator (see Job 38). There is only one true God, whose creative being is the source of all knowledge. And for that reason, we discover meaning through accepting our limitations. The appropriate response, then, is to submit before God’s glory and his perfect will. For in the end, we know by revelation. He gives only as much knowledge to us as he sees fit. Some things – and their number is boundless – we will never know, nor can we know. We are not God. The purpose of that vista you’re looking at? It’s supposed to send you running down the hall to the Soul Room. That’s what it’s for. It’s designed to send you to your knees in worship. And that’s as it should be. Knowledge causes me to stop in wonder at what is revealed to me. Yet when I become aware of how little I know, I worship all the more. And that takes place in the Soul Room. The intimate space. It’s where our hearts belong. We're constantly updating our library of articles: New this week - Discover Nathan's story of addiction and recovery in the third of our articles on Addiction. Read more >

Editor’s Note: The following is a post by one of our new Associates, Jim Crooks. It’s the first of a series of posts from ‘seasoned servants’ – people who have served the Lord for many years, and whose experiences of God’s grace and presence have much to teach us. First, a little about Jim. He writes, Before retirement in 2012, I had a long career in education, spanning decades. I have been principal of a couple of FE colleges, in Northern Ireland and then Scotland, and I have various qualifications in Coaching and Mentoring in Leadership. I retired in 2012, six months after my first wife, Elzbeth, died from cancer. In that year, I became responsible for the development and delivery of a church-based bible teaching course called the Joshua Programme, run by Tilsley College in Motherwell. In January 2016, my life took a different turn. I became the pastor of Tayside Christian Fellowship in Perth. I have primary responsibility for the teaching and preaching programme and for pastoral care in the church. I am also the founder of the North and East of Scotland Church Leaders Network, running biannual seminar programmes since 2013, focused principally on brethren-origin churches, of which there are over ninety in the area. Since December 2017, I have been married to Laura. I have one son, Andrew, who is married to Susanna and they live in the Faroe Islands, where they raise my three grandchildren. Here’s Jim’s post: My back is really sore. It has become quite debilitating, and the visits to a back pain specialist have had little impact. Having said that, when I receive a massage, I experience wonderful relief, but sadly that is short-lived. Why is my back sore? I’m told the damage was probably caused in my rugby playing days, but that was a significant number of kilos ago. The net effect of this is that my diversionary activity on my day off - gardening - takes me much longer. However, I still love to go out into the garden and get those seasonal tasks done. It takes me twice as long (at least) because I have to stop and rest. It’s important to let my back stretch – always forwards, never backwards. To deal with the pain, I’ve developed certain coping mechanisms. You might consider them a little unusual. For example, when I’m weeding, I find it a lot easier if I tackle the job horizontally. Up close and personal with those troublesome weeds. Once I’m down, it’s easier to stay down. So like some wounded soldier, I drag myself along with arms, hands and toes, making slow progress around the garden. When my neighbor first saw me using this technique, he was a little shocked. To my recollection, I simply looked up and began a normal conversation with him, as though lying prone on the grass was the most natural thing in the world. Why wouldn’t it be? He already knew I was a pastor, so he thinks I’m a bit odd anyway – now he’s sure of it! Before you think I’m just writing an amusing anecdote I do actually have a point. Here it is: I get the work done, but it does take longer. To get it done, I need to rest. Regularly. God wasn’t diminished by work, and when he’d finished, he wasn’t sitting there, exhausted by his exertions. He was providing a model for us because, as Pablo Martinez says, ‘He made us human beings and not human doings.’* It’s taken me sixty-one years to get to the point of recognising the absolute necessity for rest. I thank God for teaching me through pain, that whilst I can remain very active, I need to pace myself. I need to rest. It isn’t an option. It’s a necessity. In my case, my back pain has taught me a lesson that has been staring me in the face for years. It’s right there in the Scriptures. We all need rest. What will it take for us to learn our lesson, so that we don’t forget it? Or ignore it? God speaks to us in different ways, doesn’t he? I pray that he speaks clearly to you. St. Paul had a ‘thorn in the flesh.’ He prayed for God to take it away. I don’t do that. In any case, it would be a ‘thorn in the skeleton,’ since they would need to fuse my vertebrae! Instead, like Paul, I remember that His grace is sufficient. Of course it is. As far as the pain is concerned, I just ask Him to help me bear it. And I take twice as long on my weeding. On my belly. Let me leave you with these wonderful verses: Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light (Matt. 11.28–30). * Take Care of Yourself, Martinez, P. Hendrickson Publishers, 2018. Editor’s Note: I sympathise with Jim a great deal, since I also live with chronic back pain. Perhaps one day, you’ll also find me rolling around my garden! 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Ever heard of the Mind Palace? Arthur Conan Doyle apparently called it a ‘brain attic.’ In fact, it’s an ancient memory technique invented by the ancient Greeks. Cicero used it to help him memorise his speeches. In Sherlock, our eponymous sleuth uses the Mind Palace to store all his memories. His brain is so big, he remembers . . . well, he remembers everything he’s ever seen or heard. You can imagine him, can’t you, wandering down passageways and going into room after room, each one filled with shelves. On each shelf, there’s an image or an object which triggers the memory. I think this metaphor is fantastic. I wish I had a memory like Sherlock’s. So I’m going to steal it. The metaphor, not the memory (sadly!) I’d like to put it to another use. I think a Mind Palace is an excellent metaphor for our mental lives. It’s where we go when we temporarily shut out the world, and live inside our heads. In fact, we visit our palaces whenever we ruminate on things. Mull over. Cogitate. Think. It’s also where we pray. That room I’ve decided to call The Soul Room. Our mental lives are extremely important. They drive our external, physical lives. What goes on inside our heads, when we think and pray, is really the most important thing about us, because our souls – and in particular our hearts, wills, spirits (three words – same meaning) – govern the physical lives we live in the world. To the degree that we are able to exercise agency. So why am I talking about this subject on the eve of a national lockdown (for those of us in England)? Because potentially, lockdowns give greater space to our mental lives. Unable to meet with people physically, leaders often have more time on their hands. For some, this is a gift. But not for those who are running, running. Ever wondered why busy people are so . . . busy?! Busyness is often driven by fear of the Mind Palace. There are an awful lot of rooms in there which the busy person would prefer not to enter. It’s not surprising, really. Come on in. Down the passage lined with doors, we head for the Soul Room. For some reason, however, we end up stumbling into a room marked Worry, Fear and Frustration. Its shelves are full to bursting. So much to occupy our thoughts. Further down the hall, there’s Lament and Regret. Next to that one is Unresolved Conflicts. For some people, that one is quite big. For others, there’s a room which they’d prefer to destroy. It’s called Damaged Family Relationships. Near the end is one called Unanswered Prayer. The busy leader knows about these rooms, which is why busyness acts as a shield. But now we’re in lockdown. Now there is time to enter your Mind Palace and spend some time in there. Now there is the opportunity to go straight to the Soul Room. Don’t allow yourself to be waylaid. Go straight there. When you arrive, don’t be put off by two discouraging signs which you put up on the wall during previous visits. They’re marked ‘Not Long Enough,’ and ‘Not Doing It Right.’ These are lies which must be rejected. In fact, why don’t you just take them down? And don’t ever put them up again. There is no ‘long enough.’ There is no ‘doing it right.’ Take a seat in the Soul Room. A comfortable chair. Enjoy just sitting there. Don’t do anything. Just sit. Leave your phone in the kitchen. For once, don’t go through a list. Forget ACTS. Forget the lists. Don’t have a plan. Just enjoy being with your heavenly Father, who loves you. Or picture yourself talking to Jesus. Read some Scripture. Meditate on some verses. Perhaps do a lectio divina. Slow down. Really slow down, and joyfully ‘waste’ time in the presence of your Creator. Be refreshed. We're continuing to update and expand our library of articles to help you in your walk with the Lord and your ministry. New this week: Genevieve Jennings lays out nine helpful "principles of life" for single people. Read more >

Ten Commandments. Ten possible ways to mess up? Or Ten Invitations into a new life? I’m sure many of you have preached on them. The first four focus on Yahweh. Honouring him, worshiping him. The second six focus on humankind’s bodily life and how to live well. It looks like that, doesn’t it, until, hold on . . . the last one. Number 10. Do not covet. What’s that one doing tacked on at the end? Covet isn’t a word we use much nowadays. You don’t see it in the news. You don’t hear it much in church. ‘I’m struggling with my coveting, brother. Can you help me?’ Nope, not going to happen. Commandment 10, however, might just be the one which makes sense of all the others. How can that be? Well, after the first four, we shouldn’t really need the others. If we honoured God with all we are and all we have, we wouldn’t end up murdering, stealing and lying. But there they are. God clearly thought we needed them. However, there is a problem with 5-9. They’re the kind of commandments that you can put a check against and say, ‘not me.’ Jesus, you’ll remember, goes to the heart of their meaning in his Sermon on the Mount. But we’re still tempted, aren’t we? Murder? No. Adultery, not that either. I’m doing fine. Until you arrive at Commandment 10. 5-9 have to do with behaviour. Outward behaviour. But number 10 drives a skewer right through the self-righteous. It goes for the heart. Number 10 tells us we can sin before we even get out of bed. We are in need and we haven’t actually done anything at all. So what’s special about number 10? It tells us how we’re doing with the first four. Because when God is right at the centre – honoured and worshiped as he should be – we’ll live lives of joy and contentment, thoroughly satisfied with who God is, and what he supplies. Coveting has its source in our discontent with the sufficiency (and worthiness) of God. Which brings us to Covid. Commandment 10 talks about oxen, donkeys, wives and neighbours. I love the end of verse 17 in Exodus 20, ‘or anything that belongs to your neighbour.’ Oxen, donkeys, wives, servants, you know, I don’t even know why I’m drawing up a list here . . . I mean the whole shebang. Everything! So today, why don’t we include ‘my neighbour’s church?’ Ever coveted your neighbour’s church? My friend, Pastor Bill, he doesn’t have to put up with Komplaining Katie, who sends an email every Monday morning, moaning about something from the Sunday service. And Terry on leadership team? Can that guy be any more irritating? As for these Covid-secure rules, no one can agree on how to implement them. I bet Rev. Bigger-Church-Than-Mine doesn’t have to put up with all the arguments. Well, dear reader, others may not have Katie or Terry, but they have other problems. The grass isn’t greener over there, it’s the same shade of ‘panicky pink’ and ‘overwhelmed orange.’ So what’s the answer to coveting? Today, in thoroughly evangelical fashion, I will give you three responses with the same letter. Just like your sermons. Grace – Receive it, extend it to others. Live in it. Delight in it. Allow it to fill you up with wonder. For God is worthy because of who he is. He is gracious towards us. Gratitude – Thankfulness turns us outward from our worries and reminds us of all we have. I love this verse from 1 Chronicles. But who am I, and what is my people, that we should be able to offer so willingly in this manner? For all things come from Thee, and from Thine own have we given Thee. (1 Chron. 29.14) From thine own have we given Thee. Such beautiful words. So be grateful. Generosity – This is perhaps the most important of all. Coveting derives its power from a sense of insecurity and fear about the sufficiency of God. Instead of looking at all that we have, we play the comparison game, and that never ends well. By contrast, generosity drives the boat in the other direction. It’s a way of demonstrating our gratitude; it’s a means to express how wonderful God’s grace is, by extending that grace in generous giving to others. When I say ‘give’ I mean all three T’s. Time, treasure and talent. Be generous with all that you are and have, because God has been generous with all that he is and has. We enjoy his generosity every single day and when we’re grateful, we receive it as an act of his gracious hand. I hope these brief reminders will encourage you as you navigate the world of Covid. Strike that. It isn’t the world of Covid. And we won’t feel safer by putting the word ‘secure’ on the end. It’s the world that God has made. Our all-sufficient Creator, who is gracious, generous and good.

To those with the wobbles By this stage in the pandemic, a lot of us are feeling shaky. Some of us have a full-blown case of the wobbles. We might be putting on a brave face, but inside we feel like jelly. We’re afraid we might collapse at any moment. Maybe we even think that way about the world. It doesn’t look like this virus is going to wipe out our species (that film you watched won’t come true), but it does feel like things are much less certain than they used to be. Is our economy on the verge of collapse as national debt snowballs and businesses go bust? Is the whole world system, or at least the Western world, teetering on the brink? Will we ever recover? It’s not comfortable when the world is shaking all around you. It wasn’t comfortable for the ragged masses of Israelites camped at the foot of Mt. Sinai. The ground was literally shaking as God’s sound and light show enveloped the mountain before them, and their leader, Moses, was somewhere up there in the clouds (see Exod. 2-3 and Deut. 4-5). The only thing more frightening was the realisation that it was God’s voice in the thunder (Exod. 19.9; 20.22). So shaken were they that they begged Moses not to let God speak directly to them again (Exod. 20.19). Yikes! HEBREWS 12 The writer of Hebrews recalls those events, but, as he always does, he shows how the word of God we have received is superior to the one God spoke to Moses. Mount Sinai shook. The prophet Haggai foresaw a time when God would once again shake the earth (Hagg. 2.6). He doesn’t foresee a local earthquake to affirm the giving of his law to his people, but a global quake that will shake kings from their thrones and bring down every kingdom that stands against him. Hebrews 12 quotes Haggai and looks forward to that eschatological hope. God’s intervention in the future will entail shaking off everything that stands against Him and His people. It’s a powerful reminder of the temporary nature of this physical world. The whole universe shaken. The heavenly bodies burned up, melted and dissolved (2 Pet. 3.10,12). Wow! Now, we must remember that after this world passes away, there will be a new heaven and a new earth (Rev. 21.1). We aren’t hoping for an eternal disembodied existence. There will be restoration and resurrection. However, this vision of the universe being shaken by God should cause us to pause and think. There’s an idea gaining traction in evangelical circles that we are participating now in God’s restoration of all things. As if the physical things we shape and make in this world will carry on into the new world. That simply isn’t true. There are excellent biblical reasons to care for God’s creation and to have compassion on His creatures, but the idea that we can preserve them or transform them into the perfection God intends is false. The world remains subject to corruption – our bodies included – and only the decisive intervention of God will bring about its final restoration (Rom. 8.18-25). So we must tend to people’s wounds and clean up our ecological act, but we mustn’t forget that our priority is the eternal kingdom of God that people enter only through new birth. That kingdom is unshakeable (v.28). When God shakes down the universe, only His kingdom will be left unchanged. It will be revealed in all its glory, though for now it grows, often unseen. We aren’t in the middle of the last big shake-up. But surely when things are shaken as they are now, it’s a challenge to us. To whom do you look for security? Your buildings? Your programmes? Your creativity and ingenuity? Technology or broadband? Traditions and theologies? Perhaps your guilty pleasures? What about your relationships? The only firm foundation is God’s kingdom. That’s what the Church is inheriting. It’s what we seek. The writer beautifully contrasts that with Sinai. A crescendo of seven words in verses 18-19 builds dramatic tension in his account of Sinai. Another set of seven ideas is listed in verses 22-24, where the writer tells us what we are approaching. We have come not to Mount Sinai but Mount Zion, the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem. We join in festal celebration with myriad angels. We rejoice because our names are written in heaven under Christ’s. We acknowledge God, the judge of all, as Father. We fellowship with those saints whose journey, though ended, is perfected in His presence. We have Jesus as the mediator of our covenant. We have His blood speaking for us. What more could we want? How tragic that we moan because our church gatherings are lack-lustre! We want the sound and lights of Sinai when we’ve already got the real deal. I know church gatherings aren’t what they used to be or what we’d like. We are limited by screens or masks, we sit at a distance, we sing quietly or not at all. But the Church doesn’t consist of any of those things, and God’s kingdom isn’t constrained by them. There’s no distancing – social or otherwise – when we meet in spirit with the perfected saints and the angels. It’s a party of millions, not a bubble of six. Viewing church this way can inspire us to ‘offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe’ (v. 28). Very soon, we won’t be content to play around with entertaining ourselves or putting on a show. We will want to know Him, to honour Him, to praise Him and to serve Him. Worship here - as always in Scripture – is a response of both hearts and hands. We pour out our hearts in appreciation of Him, and we live obediently to serve Him. We need both. So, when you gather, bring Him true worship of the heart. And when you are scattered, offer obedient lives to express the worship He is due. I haven’t given you much practical guidance on what this means. Hebrews 13 might help you, but you’ll also need to work it out in your context. My point, though, is that as we rebuild and reshape our churches amidst ‘the shaking of the pandemic,’ our primary focus must be to bring acceptable worship to God. That’s what church is for. Too often we turn it into something else – programmes that meet our needs or keep our children engaged or give us a buzz. Then when trouble comes – as it has recently – we lose interest. Only a vision of God’s glory and His eternal kingdom, followed by a response of reverence and awe will keep your people committed. If there is one thing that needs shaking up, it’s consumer Christianity. And COVID is certainly doing that. The same principle applies to our hearts. If you’re wobbling inside, feeling like you’re falling to pieces, take courage. Stop and worship. Thank God for Jesus, enjoy His goodness and glory, and join in the angels’ party. Then look around you. Who can you bless by bringing them a reminder of God’s presence? Are you able to do this even if you can’t hug them or shake their hand? I believe you can. Who can you serve by providing for their needs or taking time to listen to them and pray for them? I’m sure you have people in mind even as you finish reading this post. So worship God with a grateful heart, and serve Him joyfully by serving His people. As I finish this series, let me leave you with the words of verses 28-29: Let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire. We're continuing to update and expand our library of articles to help you in your walk with the Lord and your ministry. New this week: Part two of David Partington and friends exploration of addiction. This week's article discusses how people end up with life-controlling problems, and the first steps to recovery.

To God’s forgetful children Why does God allow viruses to exist? It’s tempting to dismiss them as a result of the Fall. We could be forgiven, because their press is so bad. Mind you, we used to think that way about bacteria too, but since the advent of probiotic yoghurts, they’ve had a PR makeover. But viruses? They’re still high on the list of public enemies. Colds, flus, Ebola, HIV and the dreaded COVID - just bad bad bad, right? Well, not exactly. Our problem is that we know so little about viruses. In fact, there’s increasing evidence that viruses can be beneficial. Like most things, in the right place and in the right quantity, they serve a useful purpose. It’s when they jump over to another species, or mutate, or enter a person whose immune system is already worn down by pre-existing medical conditions that they become harmful. And the truth is, we’re not entirely without blame. Not when you consider the way human beings have encroached into ecosystems, upsetting biodiversity. Consider also markets selling caged animals with woeful sanitation, or the weaknesses in our health systems. All of these are human practices which increase our risk of infection and its impact when it happens. But let’s stop for a moment, because this isn’t a post on virology, politics or apologetics. It’s actually about God’s purposes in our struggles. No matter how many potential benefits may arise from viruses, they are still outweighed by the pain of losing a loved one to coronavirus or being isolated from normal social contact. However we rationalise this pandemic, it still hurts. So, what is God up to? Well, a good place to begin is by considering who God is. HEBREWS 12 In my last post, I mentioned that God is a consuming fire – jealous in His holiness (Heb 12.29). But there’s another picture of God in Hebrews 12. He is a loving Father. We need to grasp both of these truths. If we forget His holiness, we might diminish God by caricaturing Him as a cuddly grandfather, whose childcare strategy is indulgent entertainment until he ships us off. If we forget His love, we’re in danger of dismissing God as a harsh judge, whose condemnation is worked out in the hardships of life. Understanding God as Father is key to appreciating how He works through our circumstances. The writer says, ‘we have had earthly fathers who disciplined us and we respected them’ (v.9). I’m sure that was a generalisation even back then, when there was a clearer understanding of fatherhood than in our culture. Not everyone grows up with a father, not every father knows how to discipline (or comfort), and not every child respects a father who does. But we all know what the writer means, don’t we? Whatever imperfections our fathers had, and even if we had no father (or an abusive one), we wish we had a perfect father. And that’s what God is. The passage acknowledges the limits of earthly fathers. Even good fathers only did what seemed best to them. They didn’t always get it right. But our heavenly Father lacks neither insight nor wisdom. He always works for our good. Nowadays, discipline is rather out of fashion. Our culture prefers to emphasise unconditional love and affirmation. But the best research suggests that good parenting requires both affirmation and limits (discipline). Children thrive when they know they are accepted and when they’re given clear direction. Both are needed in human parenting because they reflect the Father heart of God. It’s not that we imagine a perfect heavenly Father to make up for the imperfect earthly ones, but that earthly parents learn from him how to nurture their children. So, we need discipline. And that’s what God does as we go through hardships. We don’t need to figure out whether He causes them or merely permits them – that’s a theological conundrum for another time – but we do need to remember that His goal for us is always good. Now, that raises another question. What is good for us? We might have all sorts of ideas about that, but our Father knows best, and his definition of good is this: ‘that we may share his holiness’ (v.10). That’s always how God defines good. It’s true in the Law of Moses. It’s there in the Sermon on the Mount. And it resounds from Romans 8, where the good towards which God works everything (Rom. 8.28) results in our conforming to the likeness of His Son (Rom. 8.29). So, I can tell you – without a shadow of a doubt – the outcome that God desires for you and your church through this pandemic: it is that you grow to be more like His Son. Nothing more, nothing less. He doesn’t want you simply to survive. And He’s not primarily concerned about making you stronger. ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ is a line from Nietzsche, not Scripture. Survival and resilience might be good things, but they aren’t the ultimate good. Better to die godly than to endure godless. There are two ways that God accomplishes his goal for us. One is primarily individual – that we become holy, set apart. We turn from our sin and we dedicate our lives to His service. The other is communal – that we live together in harmony. The sins I considered in the last post relate to this – immorality is counter to holiness and bitter hearts destroy peace. The fruit God wants to grow in us is peaceful and righteous (v.11). Furthermore, He calls us to ‘strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord’ (v.14). Maybe you immediately recognise what I’m talking about. Perhaps, every time you call one of your church members, they are bursting to tell you how God is growing the ‘peaceful fruit of righteousness’ (v.11) in them, rather than weighing you down with complaints. In your team meetings, your focus may have been on the pursuit of holiness and unity, rather than perfecting live streaming or maximising the use of the building. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we were all crying out for grace to be made more like Jesus, rather than becoming consumed by worries about ‘getting church right?’ I hope I don’t sound flippant. I don’t mean to be. I certainly don’t wish you to be. But I do want to challenge and encourage you. Our priorities must be God’s priorities. It’s vital right now to seek God’s kingdom and righteousness above all else. Our prayers need to focus on His will for us and our communities. In tough times, we need to work hard at forgiving those with whom we disagree. We must be be gracious towards those who hold different views on meeting together in person or online, singing, and wearing visors and masks. Let’s remember the part of the Lord’s Prayer about forgiveness, just as much as the line about our daily bread. Our programming should prioritise the making of disciples, and the inclusion of everyone in our community. Our pastoring should help people frame their struggles within the good shepherding of Jesus. Let’s encourage believers to hear His voice and to stick with the rest of the flock. Let’s lead our congregations by following our Good Shepherd through the valley – comforted by rod and staff - all the way to the wonder of enjoying that ‘overflowing cup.’ How would you rate your leadership right now? Temptations abound, don’t they? (see my last post.) The pandemic also threatens our unity. How do you keep a church together when some are meeting in person, some are online, and some (usually the most vulnerable) aren’t able to do either? How can you prioritise the weaker members? How can you communicate in ways that don’t weigh people down with guilt instead of releasing them into grace? And what about the danger of creating what looks like an in-crowd? How will you ensure no one feels like they’re consigned to the edges of the group? We need sensitivity, attentiveness and wisdom. Lots of wisdom. In my next post, I’ll write more about what it means to be ‘the church’ during a pandemic. For now, though, take a look at your sermon notes and your diary. Are the dominant themes the pursuit of peace and holiness? They should be.