Notes from an address preached by the Rev. Ronald M. Ward, B.D. Originally published in the September 1950 issue of Progress, the monthly magazine for Romford Congregational Church. “Shall not God avenge His elect, which cry to Him day and night …?“ (Luke 18:7)
“Vengence is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.” (Romans 12:19) In the story which we read for our lesson (Luke 18:1-8), a widow, a helpless and insignificant person, receives her justice from the hands of a judge. But the judge satisfies her for quite base and trivial reasons. He is not interested in the rights and wrongs of her case. He has no fear of God, caring nothing for eternal laws. He has no respect for man, and is unconcerned with what we should call human rights. But he becomes thoroughly bored with the woman’s tedious request, and he does what she asks to save himself unnecessary trouble. Jesus concludes His parable with the words, “Shall not God avenge His elect?, meaning that justice, which in this case is wrung from the reluctant hands of a sinful human being, is always backed by the determined will and infinite resources of God. This story is a reminder of important facts.
Thus Communism is a great evil. Its leaders neither fear God nor respect man, and are guided by selfish and brutal impulses. But God is not defeated by Communists. It may even be that some of His purposes are being worked out in history through their activities. The present regime in China, for instance, is not totally evil in all its effects. It is reckoned to be far less corrupt than its predecessor, and we need not hesitate to admit that a certain measure of justice has been achieved by it. This, of course, does not justify Communism, any more than our Lord’s parable justifies the employment of judges who despise the law. Neither does it mean that we are at liberty to sit back and let evil men govern the world, hoping that God will make the best of things for us. But it does mean that righteousness must ultimately prevail, if not in this world then in the next. And we shall be wrong if we look for the fulfilment of God’s laws only through specifically Christian or “good” media. “Surely the wrath of man shall praise Thee” (Psalm 76:10). But justice means more than the achievement of the good. It also means the punishment of the wicked. The unjust judge stands under the wrath of God, in spite of the service which he unconsciously renders to God’s purpose. The Communist system is most certainly doomed because it sets itself against Divine law, and must therefore be ultimately crushed by it. How God will do this we do not know. But He most certainly will do it. “Vengeance is mine, said the Lord.” All this is very comforting. But danger is hidden in such thoughts. The word vengeance suggests an angry person getting his own back. And “getting one’s own back” is very far indeed from the vindication of Divine righteousness. Unfortunately, however, justice and revenge, two very different things, are so involved together in our minds that it is difficult to distinguish between them. This is particularly well illustrated in the Greek language, where the words for vengeance and justice have a common root. In an attempt to escape this unfortunate confusion, our text, translated in the Revised Version “Shall not God avenge His elect”, becomes in Moffat’s translation, “Will not God see justice done to His elect”. Ronald Knox translates it, “Will not God give redress to His elect”. The difficulty, however, is more than linguistic. it is psychological as well. The most primitive notion of morality is identical with that of revenge. Injury must be paid for in blood, not only the blood of the person who inflicted the injury but perhaps that of his family and tribe as well. These ideas become rationalised in the laws of a civilised State, but even there the same element persists. Capital punishment, for example, may become a sort of blood revenge. Criminals are sent to prison partly as a preventive measure, partly as a remedial measure and partly to uphold the law. But who can deny that people get a certain satisfaction out of the thought that a man who has been a nuisance and a source of fear now has to “pay” for his misdeeds. How easy it is to point a finger at the evil doer and say with immense satisfaction, “I told you so”, or “Serves you right”. The same feeling has been projected into religion, and here it becomes most harmful of all. The belief that God will avenge His elect may become a source of satisfaction to those who have suffered at the hands of wickedness and are too weak to do anything about it. And in the moment when that happens the Christian spirit is banished from our hearts. We should rejoice that God’s righteousness can never be defeated. But we must never be glad in suffering which is the result of sin. In the Old Testament the idea that religious men may enjoy, in anticipation, the punishment of the wicked, is too clear to need illustration. “Just wait until God has finished with you” is the theme which persists through many a Psalm. But remember that the Psalmist lived before Christ, and we do not. Confusion between vengeance and justice finds supreme expression in wrong ideas about hell. As soon as we begin to think about hell as a place where God “gets His own back” we are imagining something which does not exist. The thought that the blessed will enjoy the spectacle of the torments of the damned has actually been expressed by Christian writers in ancient times. No wonder Origen made his heretical protest that Christ remains on His cross so long as a single soul remains in hell. I do not believe this. But the spirit of the heresy is much more Christian than the spirit of orthodoxy has sometimes been. The text, “Vengeance is mine”, appears in the context of Paul’s pleading that we should do all in our power to do good to enemies; that is, to keep them out of hell, not to lock them in and put the key in our pocket with an expression of triumph! Punishment and retribution are always in harmony with righteousness and love. It is impossible to understand this with the mind, but it must be so if God is God. Retribution is not the expression of something vindictive in God, it is the result of the perilous gift of freedom with which we are endowed. Hell is real, both in time and in eternity, but it is always something chosen. The pangs of hell are the result of evil choices, and thus vindicate the righteousness of a Holy God of Love. Hell is chosen isolation from God. Everyone has tasted it, if only in nightmare, when unredeemed depths of nature take control and thrust us out into irrational loneliness and despair. We know that evil men who drag the world into misery to satisfy their own wretched ambitions must suffer unless the grace of God rescues them from themselves. But this should never cause rejoicing. This must never be an outlet for resentment. Still more must we apply the rule to personal relationships. Nothing is more unchristian than the notion that God will “take it out” of someone who has injured us. Satisfaction in the thought that God will cause the wicked to suffer is a ruse of the devil, the great unconscious blasphemy which endangers us all. Remember that the foundation of religions is this commandment: “Hear, O Israel; the Lord our God, the Lord is one: and thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength”. How often do we commit sin of worshipping not one God, but two? A God of love for ourselves. And a God of revenge for our enemies.
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This is part three of Keith Finch's thoughts for Sunday 24th May 2020 Many churches say prayers for those who are leaving – perhaps they are moving away from the area, or going on a long journey overseas. But, most of the time, it is the person who is leaving that these prayers are about. But Jesus is the one going away, and he is the one who did the praying – for those who were staying! Jesus wanted them to know they were not being abandoned, and that he would always be with them – and he said this in his prayer. What do you think Jesus’ prayer for us might be? In the current climate I think like all of us Jesus would be praying for understanding for hope for shared love & respect for others, Roots refers to dance as a way of getting closer to God, sometimes this is referred to as “ praise dancing” this is something we definitely do not do at Nelmes, for myself I would find it so hard to let go, I know that at least two of my cousins have in the past worshiped in part in this way. As I say it is not for everyone, but I have noted among many other projects on our televisions during lockdown that “dancing” has been performed via ZOOM and other media outlets, along with sing-alongs, ballet, opera, pop music & keep-fit & sport at home, the purpose of all the before mentioned is to lift our spirits, just as we ask God though Jesus Christ to lift our spirits. Below you will see a picture, what are the people doing in this picture, we may not dance in our Church but we do hopefully found other ways of glorifying God in our daily lives, and maybe even if were not brave enough to dance in Church we could dance at home in the spirit of the Lord. A sending our Prayer
Christ the Giver If Christ be in your heart Glory fills your days For he is the King of Glory If Christ be in your mind Peace is in all your ways For he is the prince of peace. If Christ be in your deeds Joy your life will raise For he is the giver of joy. If Chris be in your will Strength of purpose stays For he is the sender of strength. Taken from Tides & Seasons by David Adam Other extracts have been taken from ROOTS with permission This article was found in the October 1950 copy of Progress, the monthly magazine of the Romford Congregational Church. It was written by R. A. Newman The Rev. Christopher Wordsworth (nephew of the poet Wordsworth), first and only parochial charge was a little country living in Berkshire, with the curious name of "Stanford-in-the-vale-cum-Goosey." On settling down he was much troubled on finding that the villagers had never been taught the duty of giving. Their idea of religion was to receive all the church doles, by way of coal, soup, blankets, etc., and to give nothing. The vicar was a poet of no mean order, a talent probably inherited, and he decided, instead of appeals from the pulpit, that he would try to inculcate the duty of giving to God by writing a hymn, and having it sung in the church at intervals of about a month. The method proved most effective, and the people became really generous givers. It is therefore to this one-time niggardly congregation that the Church of Christ generally owes this most beautiful hymn: O Lord of heaven and earth and sea, To Thee all praise and glory be; How shall we show our love to Thee Giver of all? If you have a hymn-book at home read this poem at your leisure, for it does really bring home to all hearts what a debt we owe to the giver of all. The Rev. Wordsworth was subsequently Bishop of Lincoln - and died in 1885. The most popular of all Missionary hymns was written by Bishop Heber at Wrexham in 1819, when staying at the Vicarage. He had gone on a visit really to hear his father-in-law Dr. Shipely, the Dean of St. Asaph, preach in aid of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts on Whitsunday. It was on the Saturday evening that a few clerical friends gathered in the Vicarage library, that the Dean asked Heber to write something for them to sing on the morrow - appropriate for the occasion. Heber retired to a quiet corner of the room and after fifteen minutes, produced the first three verses of the hymn From Greenland's icy mountains. His friends were delighted, but Heber felt it was not completed in its proper sense, and with five minutes more silence he wrote the last verse Waft, waft, ye winds His story. He gave it to the Dean, and the hymn was sung for the first time in the Wrexham Church the following morning. It is said to be one of the finest examples of spontaneous writing we possess. In a total of twenty minutes, i.e. five minutes to each verse of eight lines. At the age of 40 he became Bishop of Calcutta, and is reputed to have ordained the first native to become a Minister of the Church. Other hymns of his composition are Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty and The Son of God forth to war. At the age of 43 he passed on to his rest, in 1826. Robert Robinson, born at Swaffham, in the county of Norfolk, in 1735, is our next author. He was destined for the Established Church, but the requisite means could not be obtained. At the age of 14 he was apprenticed to a hairdresser in London, who often found fault with him for giving more attention to books than to business. At the age of 17 it is recorded that he and other lads one Sunday got playing tricks with a fortune-telling old woman. They rendered her intoxicated, that they might amuse themselves with her predictions. He afterwards went out of curiosity one night to hear the great evangelist George Whitfield, and was so impressed, that he became a preacher at Mildenhall, and wrote the hymn Come, Thou Fount of every blessing. He passed through many changes and was connected in turn with Wesleyans, Independents, Baptists, and finally a follower of Faustus Socinus, his joy and peace ending in depression and darkness. The following story is told of him - He was travelling in a stage coach with a lady sitting opposite to him deeply engrossed in reading a little book. Neither of them knew who the other was, but she perceived that he was acquainted with religion, and asked for his opinion on a hymn she had been reading: Come, Thou Fount of every blessing. He waived the subject, turning to some other topic, but she contrived to return to the subject, describing the benefits she had derived from the hymn, and her strong admiration for its sentiments. She observed Robinson was strongly agitated, but did not suspect the cause, and woman-like carried on of the good it had done her, and asked him, "Don't you feel it is good?" At length, entirely overcome by the power of his feelings, bursting in to tears he said, "Madam, I am the poor unhappy man who composed that hymn years ago, and I would give a thousand worlds, if I had them, to enjoy the feelings I then had." It has been said that the most beautiful resignation hymn ever penned was Richard Baxter's Lord it belongs not to my care. He is also of course known to most people as the author of the "Saints Everlasting Rest." At one time he was chaplain to the merry monarch, Charles II, and one can scarcely wonder why he should write such a hymn. He had a rough time, being much troubled by the Independents under Cromwell, and by the Royalists after the Restoration, who ejected him, and then Judge Jeffreys bullied and abused him. It was Baxter, who, when greeted by the terrible Jeffreys with the remark, "Richard, I see the rogue in thy face," replied "I had not known before that my face was a mirror." The history of those times are well worth the study of all Free Churchmen today, but space in "Progress" is limited. One of the most curious places to write a hymn was on a pane of glass, with a diamond, where it remained for many years. One Whitsunday at Hoddesdon near Broxbourne and Ware, in Hertfordshire, Miss Harriet Auber was sitting in her bedroom, thinking over the sermon she had heard that morning in church - when she wrote the words of that hymn, which has found its way into nearly every collection ever written: Our blest Redeemer ere He breathed His tender last farewell, A Guide, a Comforter bequeathed With us to dwell. She died in 1862 at the age of 89, but that pane of glass has disappeared from the house, which afterwards became a place of business.
I think more parents at the christening service of their children appreciate the two verses sung of Saviour, now this infant bless, written by Thomas Toke Lynch, who lived from 1818 to 1871. I was amused at a recent service to hear a lady say, "What a pity, that makes three boys - never mind, next year maybe it will be a girl." Viscount Templewood (formerly Sir Samuel Hoare) in his book The Unbroken Thread, speaks of the sporting clergy of the 19th century, particularly in the country districts, and quotes the following story - "Can I have my baby christened on Saturday?" asked a parishioner of those days of the parish clerk. "No," answered the clerk, "you can't, the Reverend is pike fishing on Saturday." "Can I have it then before Saturday?" queried the parent. "No, you can't neither, the Reverend has left a live bait in the font," said the clerk. Templewood adds there were many similar stories in those days; he came from a very old Norfolk stock. This is part two of Keith Finch's thoughts for Sunday 24th May 2020 I wonder if that Glory shines in your life, I always attempt to reflect my Christian belief in my everyday actions, I imagine that we would all say the same, that is why we try our very best to behave in a way that we believe God though his son Jesus wants us to. We have over the last few weeks been asked to express our thanks to all those that are committed to helping us through this crisis, some of us do that with on-line messages, some of us clap for the NHS & all those people out there that are doing so much for us. But I would like to reflect on whether we think we have somehow done enough, just as I would say if spending time in worship on a Sunday is not IT, the action itself allows us to gather together so we can go out of those doors refreshed with Gods spirit to be active Christians in our community, in a way it is a catalyst that enables us to reach out with that strength of purpose that enables us!
Gods Glory is everywhere but not always visible, sometimes Glory is hard to recognise, as it did for the disciples on the mountain top. Sometimes Glory is hidden, as it was for the suffering Christians. But the Glory of God persists (this message is magnified in these times we are living in and through) And as I mentioned at the start, do we attempt in some small way to reflect God though Jesus into our lives and the way we behave day to day? In another of the lectionary readings for this Sunday: Acts 1: 6-14, here Jesus says goodbye to his disciples, reminding them that the next major thing to happen to them will be when they receive the Holy Spirit, not his next resurrection appearance , not the liberation of the nation. We have all said goodbye to someone in our lives in fact we are doing this all the time, on some occasions that “saying goodbye” stirs up deep emotions, a young person going off to University, going off on their Gap Year, the day your son or daughter gets married. How do we say goodbye, it depends on the circumstances. I remember the day my daughter got married I was a very proud father, but at the same time both my wife & I were well aware that in some ways we were saying goodbye. There are a thousand other examples we could use. In this week’s reading from Acts, Jesus is about to go away. How do you think the disciples and their friends were feeling? In fact, the words we heard today were part of Jesus’ prayer for the disciples before going away. Can you recall any of the things he prayed for? This is part one of Keith Finch's thoughts for Sunday 24th May 2020 Mighty God, we gather in humility to worship you.
Caring God, we bring to you our concerns. Glorious God, we exalt your holy name. Unite us – make us one in you, that your love may strengthen and empower us. Amen. Don’t they look alike! Have you ever been to visit a new baby? Have you heard people say that the baby looks just like its mum (or dad, or brother, or sister)’? As we grow up, do people still identify characteristics of our family in us? Have you ever told someone they have similar characteristics to a member of their family? I wonder how people feel when they are told they look ‘just like their mum’, or that they have a similar mannerism to their dad, or that they sound just like someone else in their family. Has it happened to you – how did you feel? I wonder if, in a way, we are sometimes quietly happy that a son or daughter is seen to be a little bit like us, especially if the characteristic is a good one. And, even when we are not related, I wonder if we like to find similarities with people we admire, or love, or care about. Maybe this will come into today’s worship. Gospel: John 17.1-11 “John’s Gospel does have a prayer offered by Jesus that resembles the anguish of the prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane in the Synoptics, but it is back in chapter 12 (12.27-36). This prayer has a quite different quality. Jesus looks up to heaven and says, ‘Glorify your Son.’ We often think of glory as dazzling light, the spiritual equivalent of some heavenly bling, but when the term is used in this passage several other meanings emerge. The crucifixion, for all its horror and darkness, will be the hour in which Jesus is glorified (v.1). Jesus has also glorified his Father by finishing the work he was sent to do (v.4). Jesus even says that he has been glorified in his disciples (v.10). Glory, like knowledge, is deeply relational and mutual: Jesus requests that the Father glorify the Son, so that the Son may glorify the Father. Glory is something to bestow on another, and knowledge is about knowing someone, not knowing something (vv.3, 6). The spirals of meaning in John’s Gospel take on their widest curve yet: right back to the prologue of the Gospel (John 1.1-3), and so back to before the time that the world itself existed. Jesus is not asking here for a return to a heavenly status quo where he can forget that the experiment of the incarnation ever happened; he is praying for a new situation of increased knowledge and glory, where his disciples are included in the relationship between Father and Son, caught up in this mutual giving of glory, like so many mirrors reflecting the eternal light.” This article was found in the September 1950 copy of Progress, the monthly magazine of the Romford Congregational Church. It was written by R. A. Newman Until I started writing these short articles for "Progress", it never dawned on me that we, Free Church men, owe to Roman Catholicism some of the sweetest and best of the hymns in our own Hymnary. Apart from Cardinal Newman's "Lead Kindly Light" and "Praise to the holiest in the Height", to which I have previously referred, I feel we should not overlook Bernard of Clairvaux - a twelfth century monk - who gave us Jesus, the very thought of Thee and Jesus, Thou Joy of loving hearts.
David Livingstone, the great African Missionary and explorer, in his journal, tells us how he crooned them to himself, how they rang through his ears as he wandered across the wilds of Africa. Bernard was a great theologian and a very eloquent preacher. He died in 1153, and eleven years afterwards was canonised by Poe Alexander III. Then there was Bernard of Cluny, another 12th century monk, who gave us Jerusalem the golden, For thee, O dead, dear Country, and Brief life is here our portion. I am not overlooking the fact that these great hymns of both the Bernards were originally in Latin and we also owe a debt to the translators into English which our Hymnary indicate at the end of each poem. Cluny was of English parentage, but born in Brittany. We cannot pass notice of Frederick Wm. Faber, born in 1814 at Calverly Vicarage, Yorks, who after his Oxford career was appointed Rector of Elton (Hunts), but influenced by Newman joined the Church of Rome, after only three years as an Anglican priest. He wrote 150 hymns, and we enjoy singing Sweat Saviour, bless us ere we go, My God how wonderful Thou art, Souls of men! why will ye scatter, and Hark, hark, my soul! Angelic songs are swelling. It appears Faber had been particularly attracted to the Olney hymns, by Cowper and Newton, and was anxious that the English Catholics should enjoy hymns of similar simplicity and fervour. Faber ministered at Brompton Oratory until his death in 1863 at the age of 49. There are others which can be identified by the notes at the foot of our hymns stating they were translated from the Latin. Perhaps the greatest of all Martin Luther's renowned hymn A safe stronghold our God is still translated by the famous Scot, Thomas Carlyle. It was founded on the 46th Psalm: "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." Martin Luther was the son of a miner born on 10th November 1483, at Eisenach. His father hoped he would become a lawyer, but while at the University he came across the Scriptures in Latin, which resulted in his becoming a monk. A visit to Rome in 1510 opened his eyes to the evils permeating the clergy. In 1517 the Pope appointed a monk to sell indulgences for sins and releases from purgatory, which roused the fiery spirit of Luther, who drew up his famous protests of 95 theses, or propositions, and nailed them to the door of his Church at Wittenberg. He was denounced by the Pope, and the Emperor Charles V summoned him to appear before him at the Diet of Worms on April 15th, 1521. His friends tried to persuade him from attending, but he declared he would go, "Although as many devils should set at me as there are tiles on the house tops". He was commanded to recant; refused, and was imprisoned. He spent his time translating the Bible into German, and thus was born the great Reformation. Luther in 1524 renounced his priestly office, and married Catherina-von-Bora, an emancipated nun who had been influenced by his teaching, resulting in the issue of six children. He wrote 37 hymns, was both poet and musician, fond of singing and playing the lute. He died in 1546. We will pass from R.C. to C. of E. to finish this month with a word or two on Bishop Ken who lived from 1637 to 1711. He gave us two of our hymns: Glory to Thee, my God, this night and Awake, my soul, and with the sun. He was born at Berkhamsyead (Herts), and became a Rector of Little Easton, Essex. Afterwards became Chaplain to Princess Mary, wife of William of Orange, at The Hague, but could not agree with the royal couple and was dismissed. He became Chaplain to Charles II, who was very fond of him. On one occasion when the gay monarch was visiting Winchester (where Ken was dean) accompanied by Nell Gwynne, the King asked Ken to give Nell accommodation at his house, but Ken refused. The king admired him, and was amused. He afterwards made him Bishop of Bath and Wells and said he must go and hear "little Ken to tell him his faults". He was one of seven Bishops tried at Westminster in 1688 for refusing to order the clergy to read the "Declaration of Indulgence" introduced by James II in favour of his Catholic friends. Although brought in "Not Guilty", Ken resigned his Bishopric and retired into private life. Queen Anne wanted to reinstate him, but he refused and she granted him a pension of £200 a year. For years, Ken carried his shroud about with him, and put it on with his own hands when the doctor told him he had only a few hours to live. Writing on R.C. and C. of E. hymn writers reminds me of a story told by Archbishop Lang in his autobiography. At Portadown, in Ulster, the R.C. Priest and the Presbyterian Minister lived within sight of each other for years but never spoke. One day they found themselves alone in a 3rd class carriage bound for Belfast, and, their native courtesy overcoming their religious inhibitions, they entered into conversation. Each found the other a good fellow, and by the time they reached Belfast were firm friends. Shaking the Priest warmly by the hand the Minister said" "Well goodbye Father, we have had a lovely talk, and must have many another in the future. After all aren't we both trying to do God's work, you in your way, and I in His". Notes from an address preached by the Rev. Ronald M. Ward, B.D. Originally published in the August 1950 issue of Progress, the monthly magazine for Romford Congregational Church. "The Son of Man ... a friend of publicans and sinners." (Matthew 11:19)
Getting on with other people is one of life's biggest problems. It is a problem with two sides to it. For on the one hand we may find it hard to like our fellow human beings. Or on the other hand we may find it hard to get them to like us! Some people are easy to love, and occasionally we fall into a friendship which has real creative power. Now and again we find a friend who throws a new and delightful light across the world, and this is indeed a rewarding experience. But if some people throw a light over life, others throw a blanket over it. Very often we find it hard to like people not because they are wicked but because they are boring. Not because they do us harm but because they exasperate us. In imagination we all think it a most excellent and beautiful thing to love one's neighbour as oneself. The very young often picture themselves leading lives of sacrificial love on the mission fields or in hospitals, and firmly believe themselves capable of fulfilling the law of Christ. Idealism is no bad thing, and it would be sad if we allowed it to become submerged in cynicism. But at the same time most of us discover that to imagine oneself living a life of love is very different from actually making the attempt. The real world of relationships is hard to live in, and it is dangerous to allow a fantasy about one's ideal self which does not as yet fully exist, to hide this fact. Of course it is easy to be on good terms with folk we only meet occasionally. The real test is provided by the men and women we have to live and work with every day. Most of us will have to admit that we heartily dislike some of them. Right or wrong, we had better accept this. If we ask Him God will help us to find new ways of understanding and sympathising with the people we don't like. And at least we can exercise restraint and charity in our dealings with them. But it would be foolish to pretend to ourselves that we like them when we don't. Foolish and perhaps sinful too. In the long run insincerities are alway harmful, even, perhaps especially when they are dressed in Christian sentiment. It is not usual, I believe, to admit these things, particularly in Church, where we too often feel committed to pretend a more Christ-like spirit than we actually possess. But it seems to me just as well to acknowledge that we often expect more of one another than at present we are able to give. To be at the same time closely linked with human lives and to love them as oneself is an enormously difficult thing to do. Years of self discipline may be required of us before we make any real progress in the matter. But what of the other side of our problem? There are people who are hungry for fellowship and cannot find it. People who blame themselves for being shy, or stupid, or unattractive, and wistfully wonder if that is why they never manage to maintain a friendship with anybody for very long. Of course it is nonsense to suppose that a shy person is necessarily friendless. Shyness has a sort of charm of its own, and we are far more likely to be lonely if we choose to be aggressive or self-assertive than is we happen to be different. (Self-assertive people frequently get themselves elected on committees. But nobody wants to live with them). And as for stupidity, it would be a great mistake to suppose that the happiest relationships are built on clever conversation. Most human talk is really very ordinary. The person matters more than his speech, and we do not foster human comradeship by marching into somebody's drawing room with a bright remark about the international situations. And alas for the poor soul who thinks that the key to happy friendship is held by those who are blessed with a Hollywood profile. If the delight one human being can find in another depended on good looks some of us would be very lonely indeed. Now there is one person we too often neglect in our thoughts about the problem of "getting on with people." And this person may very well be the clue to the whole matter, because we have to spend all of time, and eternity too, in his company. It is as well to ask the question, "On what terms do you live with yourself?" Remember that the command of Christ has two edges to it. You are to love your neighbour as yourself. This means, perhaps, that if you happen to despise yourself you will tend to despise your neighbour too. And if you hate or fear or resent yourself all this will find expression in the way you deal with other people, and, consequently, in the way they deal with you. It may come as rather a shock to learn that the Lord has told us we ought to love ourselves. And yet I think it is so. And in a moment I shall try to tell you why. Self love which is nothing but self esteem, self righteousness, greed, or pride, is of course a sin. More than that it is the source of all sin. There can be no doubt at all about that. The Gospel condemns it out of hand because it shuts a man away from God. Love for God ought to be so much greater than anything else in us that it throws all our human loves into the shade. This, I suppose, is what our Lord meant when He made use of an extraordinary paradox and told us we ought to hate our nearest relations for His sake (Luke 14:26). But the self love which the New Testament commands is very different from the self-centred life of sin. Self-centred behaviour, far from expressing love of the self, often conceals a positive dislike for it. Take as a simple example the pathetic little sin of snobbery. A man is a snob, not because he loves himself but because he despises himself in the knowledge that his father was a fishmonger or some other perfectly honourable and worthy thing. A good deal of unpleasant human behaviour takes place because we carry around with us a secret sense of shame, inferiority, and failure. And no one who his ashamed of himself or angry with himself can be said to love himself. So perhaps we talk too glibly about the sin of self love, when we really mean the sin of being self absorbed. For at the centre of sin there is nothing so noble as love, but only hunger and fear and oppressive anxiety. Fear of being found out, exposed as a little fellow when one wants to be a big one. Anxiety lest one should be deprived of prestige or money or some other thing one desperately wants. Lust, whether of the spirit or body, insatiable appetite, the very opposite of the deep peace of love. From all this Christ can set us free. In Him we are bidden to repent, to acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickednesses. We stand before Him as men in whom there is nothing worthy of love. But after that, if we trust Him, inner failure is forgiven. We are invited to enter the family of God. He who was the friend of publicans and sinners bids us welcome. This means, if anything at all, the possibility of being on good terms with God himself. And if He wishes to be on good terms with us, surely we can be on good terms with ourselves? If we are to find His image in every human life, we must find it, and respect it, in our own hearts too. Whenever Jesus Christ healed a man He bade Him stand upright. "Take up your bed and walk." It is a call to self reliance and self respect. "Lazarus, come forth." And forth he came, out of the humiliation and shame of human corruption. I am sure it is a sin, a sign that we do not really believe in redemption or in love, if we despise ourselves. God bids us be humble, but He does not wish to humiliate us. He shows us our need, but then gathers us to Himself, to stand upright as sons and daughters in His house. To love your neighbour, to be on good, free, happy terms with him, it is necessary to be on good terms with yourself. The Christian can dare to be this, because he knows what grace means. Without arrogance, indeed with awe and wonder, he may claim the power to enjoy and love his own life. And this is the key of friendship placed in his hands. The need for me to love my seedlings in such a way that they mature and grow is surely a mirror for how we should love one another. During lockdown many of us will have experienced moments of loneliness, where doubts have crept in. When that unexpected call has come that lifts our spirit, the call you have made to an old friend, this time where we must care and help those that call out to us. When we come out of this pandemic, and we will come out the other side, maybe into a different world. Let us all remember that person who lifted our spirits, the love that was shared every Thursday when our neighbours ventured out to clap for carer’s. My hope is that this love that has been expressed so openly, all the fundraising, all the great ways of sharing will be carried forward. Don’t let us forget how kind people have been, not that they were not kind before, but maybe, just maybe we can continue to share love in this new found way.
One of the hymns we could have sung today is “Lord, the light of your love is shining” how appropriate, what follows is an extract from an Article by Michael Morpurgo: I hear already that some can’t wait for everything to go back to normal, no normal won’t do. Surely out of this must come a moment of hope for humanity, that we can gather ourselves to create a world community and learn how to live together more equitably, in peace, in harmony with one another and our planet” So I close with an Image that says it all, I will continue to tend to my seeds, and I fervently pray that when we do come out at the other side, that we will continue to help one another to enable Gods love to be shared. This article was found in the August 1950 copy of Progress, the monthly magazine of the Romford Congregational Church. It was written by R. A. Newman The Scottish Church for nearly 300 years refused to have anything to do with human hymns, Te Deums and the like, but in the metrical versions of the Psalms they found a good substitute as a vehicle for the expression of their emotions, and it has been said that the Scottish Te Deum is the 100th Psalm written by W. Keith in 1560, to the tune, Old Hundredth - the first hymn in our own hymnary: All people that one earth do dwell, Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice: Him serve with mirth, His praise forth tell; Come ye before Him, and rejoice. Another great favourite of our friends north of the Tweed (and many of us in the South) is the 23rd Psalm: The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want. The novelist, S. R. Crockett, declared: "There is no hymn like it. I think I must have stood by quite a hundred men and women as they lay dying, and I can assure you that these words, first learned by the Scottish child, were also the words that ushered them into the Quiet." The Rev. D. P. Alford records that when he was Chaplain of the Scilly Isles, one of his parishioners, a Scot, found great comfort from the metrical version of this Psalm as he lay dying, and his wife remarked: "It is no wonder the Psalm comforts him, for he has said it every night before going to bed since I have known him," and they were elderly people. Go back to the days of the Covenanters, and we read the story of two girls about 20 years of age, Marion Harvey and Isabel Alison, who attended the preaching of David Corgill, and for helping his escape they were executed. As the brave lassies were being led to the scaffold, a curate pestered them with his prayers. "Come, Isabel," said Marion, "let us sing the 23rd Psalm" - and they did - a thrilling duet on their war to the gallows. This incident reminds us of Oliver Cromwell's Ironsides, who were never beaten in battle. Their famous battle song before fighting commenced was the 68th Psalm, and after victory they sang the 117th Psalm. No doubt the singing of Psalms in the days of religious persecution was a great incentive to courage, and we have a fine inspiring hymn in our hymn book: Courage brother, do not stumble Trust in God, and do the right. It was written by Norman Macleod to conclude a lecture given by him to young men in the Exeter Hall, London, in 1858. I have particular reason to remember this hymn, for it was a source of strength to my eldest son, Aleck, in his long and fatal illness. One Sunday evening, when lying in St. Thomas' Hospital, the Sister of the ward gave the men (about 30) a half-hour to sing their favourite hymns, and my dear boy shouted for "Courage brother, do not stumble." It was not known and she had not the music, but the following Sunday she was prepared, and it became a favourite with nurses and patients. One of our best known hymns amongst the youth of today, especially the Boys' Brigade, is Fight the good fight, with all thy might. It was given to us by an Irishman, J. S. B. Monsell, born in Londonderry in 1811. It became very popular during the Boer War, and also with Americans during their conflict with the Philippines. It's strange that it should be so, because it has no reference whatever to National Wars, but deals specially with Spiritual Warfare. Dr. Monsell also wrote O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness. In the last poem that he ever wrote, "Near Home at Last," he seems to have had some notion that he was in fact nearing home, for in the first four lines are these words: Dear body, thou and I must part, Thy busy head, thy throbbing heart, Must cease to work, must cease to play, For me at no far distant day. The poem was written to raise funds for Church Restoration. Not long afterwards he was standing in the aisle of his church at Guildford, watching men engaged in the restoration work, when a large piece of masonry fell from the roof, and struck the reverend gentleman on the head, rendering him unconscious, and he died shortly afterwards. A familiar hymn with all denominations is the The Church's one foundation Is Jesus Christ her Lord. It was written by Samuel John Stone, a Church of England clergyman, in 1869 and he was very fond of telling the following story. It was one of the very few cases in which he came across a parent who objected to the religious teaching in the Church day school. When he was a curate at Windsor, and was in the Church school, an angry father asked to see him, and complained of his child being taught the Catechism, which as a Nonconformist he objected to the child learning. Stone asked the man if he had ever read the Catechism, and received a negative reply. He persuaded the man to take a copy home, read it, and come again and give his opinion about it. In a few days the man re-appeared, and on being asked what he thought about it, replied: "Well, sir, I find it tells him his duty towards God, and his duty towards his neighbour. Teach him it, sir, and if he won't learn it, you wallop him." The later Archbishop Frederick Temple (father of William Temple of recent times) said once that he could always count on two things when he went to open a new Church, or preside at a dedication festival: Cold chicken and The Church's One Foundation. Another hymn familiar to nearly all, if not all, denominations is Onward Christian Soldiers. It was written by the Rev. Sabine Baring Gould in a great hurry for his mission at Horbury Bridge about the year 1865. Here the children had to march many a long mile to take part in a school feast, and marched with colours flying, banners waving, and preceded by a cross, singing lustily this hymn prepared specially for such occasions. Rather a good story is told in connection with this hymn. A certain Low Church Vicar, though he liked processions, particularly when he headed them, stoutly objected to the Cross being carried. The organist and choirmaster both did their best to persuade him that there was nothing wrong in carrying a Cross - but without avail - the vicar was adamant. At last, losing all patience, the choir master altered the first verse, and the procession started off, the children singing: Onward Christian Soldiers, Marching as to war, With the Cross of Jesus Left behind the door. Whether the vicar saw more clearly after this is not recorded. The Rev. S. B. Gould died in 1924 at the age of 90. Two other hymns from his pen appear in our book: Now the day is over. Through the night of doubt and sorrow. This calls to mind another famous hymn: Stand up, stand up for Jesus Ye soldiers of the Cross. The Rev. Dudley Long gad been conducting a revival Mission in Philadelphia, America, and on the Sunday preceding his death preached such an inspired sermon that one thousand out of 5,000 present yielded their hearts to God. A few days later he strolled over to a barn where a mule was at work shelling corn. In patting the animal his coat sleeve caught in the cogs of the wheel, and his arm was torn out. The shock was so great he died within a few hours.
Before passing he sent a message to those engaged in revival work: Tell them to stand up for Jesus. His friend, the Rev. George Duffield, was so touched and inspired by the incident that he wrote the well-known hymn. It occurred in 1858. Is it OK to accept all our experiences of calm, comfort, beauty and feeling uplifted as intimations of Jesus’ continued presence with us? On the other hand, do some of us undervalue such experiences? Should we be more ready to acknowledge the ‘one beside us’ bringing comfort in need, and the ‘advocate’ stiffening us against threats? Or maybe that is self-indulgence too? So, how are we to understand the kinds of knowing and seeing that are promised, and are to be Jesus’ gift to his disciples?
Father, Son and Spirit in this passage demonstrate a complex and dynamic relationship with one another and with the disciples in the world, revealed and then hidden, intimate and simultaneously infinite. Does it help to remember that relationships are always organic, flexible? They grow, reform and transform, deepen and mature. Might this keep us from all-or-nothing positions where we think that believing and not believing, seeing and not seeing (and so on), are mutually exclusive opposites? Adapted from Roots 17th May 2020 So coming back to my reference to whether my seeds will germinate, those of us lucky enough to be able to garden may want to reflect on the marvels of a seed, we all view Gods world every day but whether my seeds germinate or not will depend on many things, if seeds do germinate don’t prick them out too early (they may well wither and die) some wont germinate at all, some will be crowded out by their bully like brothers or sisters. So what is love in action, the commands that Jesus urges us to keep are practical, every day, ‘out there’ in nature. Looking for examples of love in action and of situations that need love to be expressed in a practical way. |