Deus ex Machina

Chris-ti-an-ity:
Christ pouring out His life-love
As us in His world

Mystery of Christ
In us, the hope of glory,
Saturating all

Bridges we become
For the Almighty lover
To bring the Shalom

Take the shot

Light glancing and flashing
From a needle held high
Piercing a delicate membrane,
Beneath which sits lurking,
A dose or two of an antidote
That rejoicing chemical

Atropine by name, whose

Alkaloid molecules lie in wait
Poised to dismantle and
Destroy unbidden invaders
The paralysing poisons
That shrivel and staunch
Bringing life to naught

The true purpose of anxiety

The all-pervasive nerve agent
The great distractor
The gnawing, low-level
Stomach-troubling life-friction
Slowing and braking,
Shuddering its victims to a halt

‘Til we cry out in our
Anger and our shame *

‘Til we submit our recipient flesh
To prayers sharpened and
Uttered like fork lightning
Piercing, tearing open
Liminal membranes into
The fiery love of God

Swords and shields yielded:
Our fruitless aggressions,
Our flimsy fig-leaf
Protection rackets that do not
And casting aside all masks
That fail us, we

Take the shot

Let the fiery love of God
Permeate, baptise us
Deep diving into our troubles
And turmoil, our churning seas
And paralysed wills until
We re-emerge into the light

Our dancing feet unglued

*Simon & Garfunkel – The Boxer

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝: '...𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲, 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡....'

A comment on the word 'apostolic’.

Greek ‘apostolos’ - someone who is sent

Just as ‘catholic’ refocuses our modus operandi as church to be in the world, like yeast in and throughout the dough, so ‘apostolic’ turns us outward, to the world, rather than inward.

Jesus sent his disciples, later called to be apostles, ‘sent ones’, into the world, village by village to preach the gospel having watched him do the same. (See Luke 8, Luke 9, and Luke 10). Jesus was the prototype apostle, others followed on, first the 12, the 70, and so on.

True apostles do not install a church culture, a bureaucracy, an organisation, a denomination, or a stream, but Christ in individuals, some of whom become elders and oversee the church from that point on – not under the authority of an apostle, rather they are released by the apostle - who has moved on to do some more installing elsewhere, whilst retaining a fatherly relationship with the new church. They are fathers not CEOs.

Apostles instal Christ in individuals…not denominations

(Fathers are not paid by their children. If a church wishes to give money to an apostle or into their ministry, they are free to do so, like the many who gave money to Jesus and supported Him from their private means, but they did not give as a requirement; there was no coercion, it was given freely. Compulsory ‘tithing’, for example, is an indication that the relationship between an apostle and a church, or between elders and a congregation, has become unhealthy).

When the church in Galatia had turned away from Christ the apostle wrote to them: ‘My little children, for whom I labour in birth again until Christ is formed in you’ Gal 4v19

The work of an apostle is therefore more than the work of an evangelist. An evangelist preaches the ‘evangel’, the good news, the gospel, and issues the invitation to follow Christ. An apostle, through their teaching and example, installs Christ in the person and church who wishes to follow or put their faith in Jesus, so that their life is no longer lived by their own resources (as if that’s really possible, which it isn’t!) but by Christ’s spontaneous life lived from within the person.

To the extent that apostles plant or form churches, it is that new disciples are called to grow so that they collectively know that Christ has been formed in them as a church, and that they are operating from His life not their own abilities, philosophies, political convictions, or well-intentioned good ideas, or under the direction of an apostle, but His Spirit.

As Paul put it: ‘For as many are led by the Spirit of God, these are the sons of God’.

‘children…young men…fathers…’ 1 John 1v12-14

There are many passages that deal with this expected spiritual growth towards maturity, for example: ‘I could not speak to you as spiritual but as fleshly, as babes in Christ. I fed you with milk and not solid food…you are still fleshly’ 1 Cor 3v1-3 or ‘by this time you ought to be teachers…but…you need milk not solid food…babes…solid food belongs to those that are mature’ Heb 5v12-14 or ‘children…young men…fathers…’ 1 John 1v12-14

Once such a church has been formed it is true that it is ‘one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church’

I suspect Paul would write to many groups that we call ‘churches’ today with the same concerns and conclude that he would have to ‘labour again until Christ is formed in you’.

If the church is a group of believers who are living out life from the spontaneous life of Christ within, then, by definition, the church is truly apostolic as it is loved, cared for, and led by the Apostle, Jesus Christ, into the world.

Pain woke up one morning

Pain woke up and pulled on socks
The stout shoes of a marcher
Pain splashed cold water on an unshaven face
And drank a cup of tea
Without noticing

Pain met with the hurting
To flock like starlings
Unaware of the terrible beauty
Of their black murmurings
And flow like blood

From Portland Square to Westminster
Pain-painted placards held aloft
A river of anguish, chanting
Like bewildered children
‘Free Palestine
From the River to the Sea’

We humans,
We import and export traders,
Now in toxic waste, to and fro
Violent convulsions
Of sorrow-full souls
Invisible retchings of pain

Hamas, Hezbollah, Fatah
A trinity less united
Except in receiving foreign funds
Billions of dollars, rials, and euros
Their investors’ blushing faces
Turning away too late

Disgusted by a Supernova massacre
By Kfar Azar’s defilement
But the blood sticks to your hands
Tehran, Brussels, Washington
No amount of cold water
Can remove the stain 

The Kfar Azar pain
The Supernova misery
That woke up that morning,
Discordant, a few miles
East of Gaza, in the Negev -
All of that pain

And the pain of the pogroms
And of Hitler’s henchmen
Has woken up this morning
And painted Stars of David
On F16 fuselages -
Sickened Israel vomiting

Her laser-guided agony
Of despair in bombs and missiles
Her promises to end Hamas
Unbearable, carrying her
Towards poor Gaza

Ruled not by peacemakers
But those fuelled and fed
Funded and fattened by whom?
Which fund paid for your banner?

Who set brother against brother?
Ishmael – which means God listens
Against Isaac – which means laughter

Let the Miserere be sung
Let the tears fall

Let hot tears sear and
Wash away the pain

And let the children sob
Themselves to exhausted peace 

Lord, have mercy, let
Isaac’s laughter be heard

Once again.

Bing Videos

Is there a purpose in forgetting?

12.55

My fork is raised, and
My eyes are feasting on a
Steaming chicken pie

The fork fails to touch
Even the exterior skin of
The golden pastry

A silent alarm
Sounds in my head, I see
Seventy pupils

Pushing and shoving
Peering through a window a
Hundred yards away

Waiting for me

Waiting for me to rattle some keys

A miracle. God,
Secular humanism
Notwithstanding, has

Fished out a large crowd
Away from football, ‘seconds’
Not enough girl chat

To the Thursday Club
A Christian Union
Stripped of tradition

12.56

Like the woman and
Her coins I tear around
Searching for the keys

12.59

The key turns the lock
And the door opens wide, no
One is the wiser

Privately I am
Beside myself with horror
And excessive joy

1.00

God did not forget -
His selectively robust
Memory, forgot

My frail frame and
Sluiced all my iniquities
Forever downstream

Our lapses - signs of
God maybe? Marinading
Us in the divine

Ain’t gonna to study war no more

‘…they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore’ Isaiah 2v4

Are you outside my city limits
Or corralled in my deepest parts?
Are you in heaven
Or walking down country lanes
To all our Bethlehems
Unseen?

Why do I find that
Other-worldly chuckle
A spring of water
Speaking to me:
It’s in the asking that
You stumble over the answers

You do some intriguing tricks
Unexpected engineering
Like workmen setting up
Orange fences before dawn
Cups of tea in hand
The steam appearing to
Work harder than they

Rising up but the work
Is out of sight, below,
Unseen

Your last incursion
Took me by surprise
Incoming wounding words;
Missiles lobbed and landing
Like sharp swords but changed,
Somehow, into ploughshares
And set to work

Plough me Lord
Plough my heart
I open the gate
Bring in your metal
And turn me over and over
Run your oxen over me
Turn my stones to soil

I ain’t gonna study war
No more
The fight’s gone in me
I have a new weapon
Durable and immovable
The peace of the Lord.
Ploughing may not be over

But I see seeds held
In your hand
I’m going to wear my
Long white robe
And not budge
From the riverside, I ain’t
Gonna study war no more

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝: '...𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲, 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡....'

A comment on the word 'catholic'. It's easy to think this refers in some way to the Roman Catholic church with a capital C. It doesn't.

But its meaning is also more than simply 'Universal' i.e. all believers in Christ, whether Catholic, Protestant, or Orthodox, The problem, even with this, is that Universal can suggest an 'us' and 'them' as if the church is to be distinct, separate, or cut off from the world.

It's more subtle, or richer than that. It really means (kata) 'throughout' the (holos) 'whole' like yeast in the ingredients, we are to be like Jesus in the world, not separate or superior or threatened but incarnate, doing our yeast thing.

Protection Racket

The fruit and veg shop
With shabby paint
Is well stocked in celery,
Sweetcorn and Cox’s apples
And sells freshly baked bread,
Oddly, on a Wednesday

Customers stream in
From dawn to dusk
Cashflow runs riot
The Books topple over
Unbalanced in the black
Yet the paint still peels

Lunar months come and go
Taxes are paid, but until
The Other Tax is settled,
There is no peace;
And then there’s no money
Even for a lick of paint

Mafia Voluntá and Ragione,
Crowbars in hand, beat and
Beat spirits into empty silence
And Sentimento, no better,
Crushes all in his path
With pitiful weeping, our

An apostolic cry shatters the air

Infernal self-protection racket.
Unsafe in our own hands, we
Like dried plums and apricots,
Take on weary old age:
Hearts shrivelling as sure as
A veg shop with shabby paint

An apostolic cry shatters the air:
‘Wretched man that I am!
Who will deliver me
From this body of death?’
Guttural, the cry of the Israelites,
Weighed down with bricks.

God, it seems, is only waiting
For our appearance on stage
To scream, to let our spirit roar,
Then whisper in disbelief
‘Thanks be to God –
Through Jesus Christ our Lord’

And, suddenly, there He is
Fresh pot of paint in hand
Pockets bulging with
Milk and honey
Smelling of fresh bread:
Every day is Wednesday.

Voluntá - our will, Ragione - our reason, Sentimento - our emotions

So scared

Fear makes her entrance
Uninvited
A surprise package. But
What happens next?

She came in disguise
A teacher, a friend
The one meaning no harm
The other – what drove him?

At four, a statue in the corner
When other boys and girls
Danced to the music that
Acted like glue to my feet – why?

And the other John
Who stood on my stomach
And confused me
And taught my heart to fear

Maybe, like a clever dog,
He could smell my fear
Of the music
And it bared his teeth?

Or, later, when tied to a tree
Or held captive
In a tree house
Or abused in an alleyway?

Behind it all
Was God. Loving God.
Not the author
But the cage-fighter-God

The One whose love
Casts out all fear
Like a wrestler launching
All his opponents -

Over the ropes they go
Yes, He has come
To supplant
Like a bouncer

To eject it all
All that damned fear
And turn another victim
Into a lover of enemies

Into a fisher
Of the sons of Adam
To call to my friend,
The other John,

Have you found
The One who is stronger
Than you?
Than your guilt?

So scared of love, still?
That bares all in its path?
Love divine: The music that
Unglued my feet.

What is a Christian?

To answer this question I’m going to borrow the illustration of ‘Coffee Pot Christians’ I first came across reading When the Spirit Comes by Colin Urquhart.

It both amused me and helped me figure out what it means to be a Christian. So I’m passing it on.

Coffee has moved on with its recent resurgence. Apart from all the Italian names – mocha, cappuccino, latte, expresso - and so on, the containers on offer today are many and varied – moka pots, French press, percolator, and filters.

The coffee pot used in the illustration, however, is a simple ceramic container that can hold maybe 4 cups and has a removable lid and a handle.

If the coffee pot represents a person, the contents are everything that makes up the individuality of that person, their resources. When shaken or tipped up, what is held inside comes out. But to make coffee first the lid has to be removed and water poured in. The lid represents everything that is a barrier between a person and God: anger, bitterness, unforgiveness, jealousy, self-reliance, pride and so on. Sin is a much misunderstood and maligned word these days but the contents of our ‘lids’ do amount to what the bible calls ‘sin’ which ruins us and spoils our relationship with God.

Whilst the lid is in position God is external to you. You are living, to all intents and purposes, a life independent of God.

But Jesus showed us that God loves us ‘God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son…’ and wants to come in, to be poured in, but first the lid must be removed.

When Jesus hung on the cross the New Testament says He was the ‘Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world’. Even in the Old Testament, this sacrifice was described in the following verses:

‘Surely He has borne our griefs and carried out sorrows…he was wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquities…the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all’. All our jealousies, pride, self-reliance, bitterness and so on, Jesus took on the cross to take away the barrier between us and God, to restore our relationship with God.

When Colin Urquhart used this illustration for those who wanted to remove their lids and let God in, he encouraged them to write a letter to Jesus confessing the things in them that made up their lid, then to thank God that Jesus has taken it away on the cross, and finally to ask God to pour Himself into them with the gift of the Holy Spirit.

‘you can no more become a Christian by going to church than become a burger by going to McDonalds’

When the apostle Paul wrote about the Holy Spirit he said this: ‘the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us’. If it is unforgiveness we have confessed, He comes with forgiveness; if it is bitterness, the love of God brings peace, if pride or fear, the Spirit brings faith in God.

This simple illustration worked for me: Church attendance, saying prayers, singing hymns, good works, being kind to our neighbours, baptism, taking communion, even believing in God…all these Christians may do, but these things do not make us Christians.

It’s easy to put the cart before the horse.

Someone once said ‘you can no more become a Christian by going to church than become a burger by going to McDonalds’.

Lastly, when the apostle Peter preached to the crowd on the Day of Pentecost (Acts chapters 1 and 2), they asked him what they should do. This is his answer:

‘Repent and let every one of you be baptised in the Name of Jesus for the forgiveness of sins, and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit’.

• The word ‘repent’, to use the coffee pot illustration, is to confess to God all that makes up the lid in our life and to recognise that Jesus took it all on the cross.

• Baptism in water follows on…it’s like having all those barriers washed away, like being cleansed of all that makes us feel unworthy of forgiveness.

• And, finally, the promise that God will come pouring in – the gift of the Holy Spirit. It’s a gift, not something we earn by our religiosity or attempts to please God or efforts to live a moral or a good life.

I hope that helps. And makes sense.

If it makes sense to you and you want to become a Christian, why not do what Colin Urquhart told his listeners to do – write a letter to Jesus. Tell him about your lid that needs to be removed. See that when Jesus died on the cross, He took your lid. And ask for the gift of the Holy Spirit to be poured into your heart.

If you have a bible nearby maybe read the following verses: John 3v16, and John 14 v 16-20.

Fingernails

It’s unorthodox, this constant life
Its interior ocean
Washing up tides, with
Winds from nowhere
Surfing waves that carry
A heart, a will, far beyond:
The trick, it seems, is to wait

The me-in-me wanted to
Travel into Arabia with the apostle
Fresh from Damascus
Or with David into Adullam
Or the Messiah away from it all
With the wild beasts of
Heaven and earth

But mostly the apostle
What happened there, Paul?
In Arabia?

And all the time
Like some drugged sluggard
Like Frodo with a ring too heavy
I am helpless
And cannot be enthused,
Rocking in the sedative
Of some interior ocean wave

And in its place a manky image
Of ordinariness gone wild
Seemingly unworthy of
Contemplation, but
This thought will not rot
‘If you want to know about
All things’, it says
‘Look under your fingernails

Look in places no one else will
Rummage away in bins, or, like
A five-year-old nestling
On a carpet
Feet twitching on the sofa
Rolling plasticine balls
Or folding and refolding
Silver foil, lost in wonder;
Then you’ll know all things.’

That day, under my fingernails
Lay foreign DNA, the
Fragment of another’s hair,
The innards of a wasp
Clapped to infinity
Some earwax, tile cement,
And salt from Beer Beach:
A sharper, more vivid log
Than my phone history.
Thank God.

And so I let Arabia subside
To learn what I needed to learn
To find what I’m looking for
Treasure lying in strange places
A Messiah in a manger,
A food trough, surrounded by
Angels and steaming dung,
Frankincense and stinking hay
There, ridiculously there,
On a remote Judean hillside

He’s a hunter, that Messiah,
A treasure hunter,
A finder, a fingernail finder,

A proof of incarnation
A prostitute here, a leper there
A Pharisee-by-night…Nicodemus…
…there’s a bit of him
In us all.

But only some go searching
Will we find Him hiding in you?
Under your fingernails
His DNA?
Inadvertently transferred
When your heart
Last reached out to Him

Not kneeling, or in a
Sanctuary made by man,
But in your tidal unorthodoxy
Something undeniable
A zephyr, a breath,
A breeze that made you
Look up.

The mystery of the gospel?

The point of this post is to contradict the title.

Introduction

The perception problem is with the word ‘mystery’, as if the gospel is shrouded in a dense fog, and as if it is rather wonderful to be caught up in this fog, unsure of any boundaries, uncertain of what anything means.

And I must confess, I do like a fog. They are rare in Bristol, where I live, whereas in my youth, in Whitstable, Kent, the whole town would periodically disappear into a ‘pea-souper’ as thick mists rolled in off the North Sea and enveloped us all.

But the image of the word ‘mystery’ as used in the New Testament by St Paul is more akin to the context of a murder mystery. Until the final denouement, we are left with a diet of clues, hints, false trails, and suspicions. But then, in the final scene, all is revealed, as the murderer or murderers and their desperate motives are exposed and come to light.

the point of this post is to contradict the title

Perhaps an even clearer picture of the concept of mystery in the New Testament is the unveiling of a new building, sculpture, or the launching of a new ship. A dignitary is invited, and the ceremonial moment arrives; a cord is pulled, and curtains are drawn back to reveal a plaque commemorating the event.

The mystery (the plaque) that was hidden is now revealed.

The New Testament

The Greek word for the New Testament's twenty-two occurrences of ‘mystery’ is mysterion.

Once in the gospels (Mark 4v11); seventeen times by St Paul in his letters, and four times by St John in the Book of Revelation.

‘To you it has been given to know the mystery of the kingdom of heaven’ Mark 4v11. The important word here in Jesus’ statement to the disciples is to ‘know’ i.e. not to be left floundering around in the dark or in some vague spiritual or philosophical fog.

In the Book of Revelation the clue is in the name ‘Revelation’ e.g. the curtains have been drawn back so that we can see clearly ‘The mystery of the seven stars…are the seven messengers of the seven churches’ Rev 1v20. Had these visions not been given to John, the mystery of heaven would have remained hidden, but they were revealed.

In Paul’s epistles, he uses the image of curtains being ceremoniously drawn back as the foundation of his understanding of the gospel:

‘…the mystery which had been hidden from ages and from generations has now been revealed to the His saints…amongst the gentiles…Christ in you, the hope of glory’ Col 1v26

‘He made known to me the mystery …which in other ages was not made known to the sons of men as it has now been revealed by the Spirit to the His holy apostles and prophets that the gentiles should be fellow heirs of the same body and partakers of His promise in Christ through the gospel’ Eph 3 v 3-6

‘…to make known the fellowship of the mystery which from the beginning of ages has been hidden in God who created all things through Jesus Christ’ v9

‘…according to the revelation of the mystery kept secret since the world began but now made manifest…made known to all nations’ Rom 16v26

Imagine the shock to St Paul

The New Testament does not tell us the details of where, when, or how God revealed the mystery of the gospel of the kingdom to Paul…but I’d like to indulge in some speculation, some educated guessing perhaps, and put together some clues.

Paul’s timeline can be constructed with some accuracy as follows:

AD 5 born in Tarsus in present day Turkey

AD 20 graduates from theological studies under Gamaliel in Jerusalem as a Pharisee

AD 33 Official persecutor of the church

AD 34 Conversion on the Road to Damascus, taken to Damascus

AD 34-37 Three years in Arabia

AD 37 Returns to Damascus briefly but has to escape to Jerusalem and then on to Tarsus

AD 46 Fourteen years after his conversion Barnabus finds Paul in Tarsus and he begins his ‘apostleship’ and missionary journeys

AD 66 dies in Rome

Paul relates his account of the encounter with the risen Jesus Christ on the road to Damascus as follows:

‘At midday…I saw a great light from heaven…brighter than the sun…I heard a voice ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting Me…I am Jesus who you are persecuting but rise and stand on your feet for I have appeared to you to make you a minister and a witness to the things you have seen and things I will yet reveal to you…to the Gentiles to whom I now send you’ Acts 26v14-17

We might summarise it like this: on the road to Damascus God revealed Jesus as the Christ (the Messiah) to Paul, but at a later stage He revealed Christ in Paul, the hope of glory.

My hunch is that the ‘things I will yet reveal to you’ occurred in the three years of obscurity in Arabia.

Although Paul speaks elsewhere of the unsearchable riches in Christ, in the above verses two aspects of the revelation of the gospel to Paul appear to be emphasised:

1. Christ in you the hope of glory

2. Gentiles are fellow heirs

Both of these revelations – quite apart from the absolute shock in finding out that he had been persecuting Jesus the Messiah, the King of Israel, the son of David and that the stories of the resurrection were true not false – would have been shocking to Pharisee Paul.

Christ in you

Saul, the Pharisee, later called Paul, viewed his fellow Jews who had apparently been duped into believing ridiculous notions that Jesus was the Messiah and had risen from the dead, as a dangerous fifth column, a church, a called-out people, who should be exterminated, to rid Judaism of its latest virus. ‘Christians’ were viruses and should be either brought back into the Jewish fold, eliminated from society, or stoned to death.

He felt his murderous campaign to be righteous and pleasing to God.

But once he had discovered that Jesus was not only alive, but was the Messiah, he spent little time procrastinating before proclaiming his discovery to all and sundry:

‘Saul spent some days with the disciples at Damascus. Immediately he preached Jesus as the Messiah in the synagogues, that He is the Son of God’ Acts 9v19,20

we see in the New Testament a process of progressive revelation

At this stage, there is no hint that he had realised that Jesus the Messiah was in Him the hope of glory as he would later preach. At this stage God’s revelation to Paul was limited to revealing His Son to Paul but not in him.

He later wrote of this progressive revelation in the letter to the Galatians:

‘But when it pleased God…to reveal His Son in me that I might preach Him among the Gentiles…’ Gal 1 v 15,16

This must have been a complete shock to Paul who, like all fellow Jews, had longed for the promised Messiah to Israel for generations. But no one had spoken of the Messiah being ‘in’ individuals.

We, I, could be sidetracked at this point from the purpose of this post, to understand that God has revealed the mystery of the gospel of the kingdom, it is no longer hidden, and explore this new identity of believers as ‘Christ-in-you’ individuals.

To the Gentiles, Christ in you the hope of glory

It is important to note, I think, at this point that all of Jesus’ disciples, Peter, John, and the others, had to grapple with the triplet concept that Jesus was the Messiah-raised-from-the-dead, and of the Messiah-in-them, and that the Messiah was equally available to the Gentiles.

Jesus had taught ‘I am the vine and you are the branches’ John 15 v 5. If you have seen a vine, you’ll know the vine is the branches and the branches are the vine. There is an intimate unity between the branches and the whole vine. The concept of the ‘Messiah, Christ, in you’ and ‘us in Him’ is made no clearer than with Jesus’ illustration of the vine.

When Jesus interrupted Saul on the way to Damascus he said: ‘Why are you persecuting Me?’ From Christ’s point of view, there is no distinction between Him and all in Him. If Saul stones Stephen, he is stoning Christ, the Messiah, if he arrests believers and puts them in prison, he is persecuting Christ.

On top of this Jesus-as-the-Messiah, Messiah-in-you identity, God then reveals to Paul that the gospel (good news) is for the Gentiles as well as for the Jews, for Israel.

It is difficult for us Gentiles with 2000+ years of Christendom, largely held in Gentile hands, to appreciate just how unpalatable this must have been for Paul – as it had been for Peter and the other apostles.

Jesus had tried to explain this before his ascension: ‘you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you and you shall be witnesses to Me in Jerusalem, Judea, and to the ends of the earth’ Acts 1 v 8 but it seems that the early apostles interpreted that to mean they would be sent to the Jewish diaspora dispersed around the known world.

In the intriguing run of events as recorded in Acts 10 with Peter’s vision on the roof being commanded to eat forbidden foods and then being taken to a small gathering of Gentiles to preach the gospel, we read of a real-time, albeit slow motion, revelation to Peter ‘I perceive that God shows no partiality. In every nation whoever fears Him…’and ‘while Peter was still speaking…the Holy Spirit fell upon all those who heard the word…’ and so the gospel had suddenly escaped from its Jewish confines and made its way around the whole world in accordance to Jesus’ words ‘to the ends of the earth’.

Conclusion

If we see in the New Testament a process of progressive revelation for the apostles we should not be surprised if the same process in us, twenty-one centuries later, may not be completed in the moments of our conversion. It wasn’t for Paul or for Peter.

Here’s the three-step revelation to Paul (and Paul)

1. Jesus as the Messiah, Christ, raised to life after three days – Christ revealed to you. His true identity.

2. Christ in you the hope of glory – Christ revealed as our life, in us, in union with us, as us, vine and branches, ‘why are you persecuting Me?’ Our true identity: Christ in me.

3. Christ to Gentiles and Jews who believe – the revelation of our fellowship in the gospel

In the New Testament, the ‘mystery’ of the gospel is a mystery that was hidden for ages past but has now been revealed; the fog has cleared, and the curtain pulled back. One of the aspects of the work of the Holy Spirit dwelling in us is to open our eyes, to remove the veil, so we can see what has been revealed ‘nevertheless when one turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit and where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom’ 2 Cor 3 v16,17

Lastly, God took Paul to Arabia and interrupted Peter praying on a rooftop. In a similar way, I am sure, He will choose His moments with us.

‘When it pleased God…to reveal His son in me’ Gal 1 v 15,16

Halfway to Cambridge

For the first weekend of September, I attended the British Christian Writer’s Conference at Ridley Hall in Cambridge, since when I’ve been hard at work editing a historical fiction I’m writing that just may see the light of day later in the year or, more realistically, in 2024.

As a member of the Association of Christian Writers (ACW) I also contribute to the ‘morethanwriters’ blog each month.

If you’d like to read that blog titled ‘Halfway to Cambridge’ please follow the link below, where you’ll find that ‘Halfway to Cambridge’ is a phrase that came to me spontaneously in a dusty layby whilst texting a friend who’d passed an important exam.

Since then ‘Halfway to Cambridge’ seems to have taken on a life of its own and, really, is a description of a state of mind.

To discover whether you are ‘Halfway to Cambridge’ please, be my guest, and follow the link!

Halfway to Cambridge (morethanwriters.blogspot.com)

Unmade Road

And beyond the front gate
My feet find an uneven path
Dislodging stones
And, if it has rained,
Puddles, or the
Road divots, potholes
Fill with snow and ice
On winter mornings

There’s a certain sound
Of slow traffic, of
Wheels turning and
Loaded suspensions
Less adept than feet
Tamed nonetheless,
Brought to heel,
By the lack of tarmac,
Stop signs, white lines,
Pavements, and
The rules of the road

The illusion of order

Here, on the unmade road
There’s time for
The crackle of gravel,
The distant, steady
Growl of a tractor,
Wood pigeons
And piano notes
Or the sounds of
Paddling-pool children
And the aroma
Of a Sunday roast

Only the foolish set out
To tarmac the future
Only foolish cerebellums
Contemplate whether
Controlling life’s traffic lights
Is in his gift, or hers;
We all were born on
Unmade roads.
It is the wazzocks,
Life’s plonkers
Who think otherwise

All I/we can hear,
And taste, and feel
All sights and sounds
All the ungainliness,
Even the roughness
And the unpreparedness
Demanding detours around
Around unfilled potholes
And jutting out rocks…

…all are gifts…

Beyond the front gate.

The Bicycle Poems (iii) The Pursuit of Wisdom

I can’t think of anything else
That is worked on upside down
Farriers and upright horses are plenty
As are car mechanics, vehicles hoisted maybe
But always uninverted
Even doctors examine the human body
Held in an upright position or prone
But rarely, you know, upside-down

But a bicycle, unless on one of those
Elevated frames in a workshop,
Is commonly A over T
Sat serenely, we wonder,
On its saddle and handlebars
Awaiting a service, a clean,
An inspection, from an eight-year-old boy
With his can of 3-in-1, a rag or two,
An old toothbrush, shaking
The pink rust-removing fluid

At least that was back in the day
Before the aluminium-alloy takeover.
Once, it was shiny steel
Beneath the weathered and grimy
Wheels, spokes, and hubs,
And any exposed part
Out there in all weathers
Neglected.

Until your father looked at you,
And there was no escape.
It’s strange how heavy wisdom
Lies on top of a child, or later,
As if the sheer thought of Now
Ramps up an interior inertia,
The inability to shift one’s
Limbs towards the Promised Land

Periodically, we are
Faced with the truth; the rust-truth,
The accumulation of days:
Of the legitimate, unavoidable,
Courage-catapulted lives
Into and among the living,
Leaving its wear and tear
Increasing the effort, the grind
Nevertheless, we plough on
With our “I’ll do that tomorrow,
So I will”
Backward glances.

But the eight-year-old,
Kneeling in the morning,
Toothbrush dipped, starts
Between the spokes
Chasing down the ruddy barnacles
Yielding with surprising ease
To the see-sawing of the toothbrush
Its hairs bent over like windblown trees
With the relentless oscillations.
An hour later, though, and it’s done

Lemonade is brought to him, with ice,
By a watching mother he didn’t see
And, like a real man, he wipes his brow
And smells his worked fingers
A layer of skin missing
Muscles aching, proud and tired.
Then to resume, drink downed
And a fresh cloth to buff
The bike ‘til it shines like the Sun.

First – remove the rust
Then pour on the oil.

On the chain spinning now
Like a mad dog running after its tail,
Free, no complaining squeals,
None remain, a silent whirr, that’s all.
And more oil is sunk
Into the hidden hub-caverns
To do some interior good
Out of sight.

First – remove the rust
Then pour on the oil.

Rider and machine reunited,
The upside-down world
Has run its servicing course.
The rider, full of promises,
Flies round the block,
Careers along well-known
Ten-foot-ways and down to the beach,
To watch the pounding waves
And let the sea-spray land
On face and frame,
Stopping off at a shop for who knows what
Bike flung to the ground, the pavement,
It’s all joy
Before heading home,
Leaning the shining one
Against the garage wall

Intending to put it inside.

After tea.

Heaven

You can’t read the Bible without noticing that the text alternates between heaven and earth, but our normal experience is so earthbound that we can doubt the existence of heaven.

The occasional Hollywood film depicting heaven or angels stirs within us those questions about an after-life or heaven, but when the alarm goes off in the morning, we don’t expect to sit down with an angel and talk over the day ahead; it’s a flurry of marmalade and toast, grab a coffee and fly out of the front door into the real world, or, if you’re less hurried, wfh, unemployed, on holiday, or retired: read a book, book a massage, have a swim, write a poem, meditate, go to the gym and so on.

But heaven?

A few days ago I was reading the well-known Christmas verses in Luke’s gospel, where an angel appears to the shepherds to announce the birth of the Messiah, the Christ: ‘wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger’.

The verse that really caught my attention was:

‘And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: ‘Glory to God in the Highest and on earth peace, goodwill toward men’. So it was when the angels had gone away from the shepherds into heaven…’

These shepherds no longer believed in angels and the heavenly host, even of they had before, because of the Scriptures, or what others believed, but due to an astounding personal experience.

It is remarkable how many individuals have had experiences of angels. Some accounts are more open to a rational interpretation than others. I’ve had one like this. But there are other accounts that defy an earthly explanation. I have also had one of these.

One of the reasons I do speak about this from time to time is that I was not alone on a hillside having ingested some tasty mushrooms, or was grappling with a personal crisis, this event was witnessed by thousands at the same time. In the summer of 1978, I travelled up from Kent to Yorkshire with a group from my church to attend the Dales Bible Week. During one of the evening sessions held in the large marquee there were a few thousand of us enjoying worshipping with a large band leading the music and the singing was quite loud. As I remember it, despite the loudness, it felt a little laboured, rather than free-flowing, perhaps more from our heads or the routine ‘this is what you do in a meeting’ rather than from the heart. Eventually, however, the mood softened, and we were singing a quieter song that faded into silence but not an awkward silence. Into that silence four or maybe five voices began to sing with indescribably beautiful music and harmonies impossible to reproduce on any instrument or by any earthly choir. The angels were heard but not seen.

Luke’s description ‘when the angels had gone away into heaven’ reminded me of those moments.

From that time on I have had no doubt of the reality of heaven. It’s one thing to believe in angels and heaven and the spiritual realm having read about it in the bible or heard another’s eye-witness testimony, but quite another when you’ve had first-hand experience.

The other possible encounter with an angel is far more open to doubt, or to a rational explanation.

there is a heavenly realm that is in total harmony with itself, that exudes peace, that is untroubled

I had misjudged a sharp corner on a narrow country road at night and ended up in a ditch well below the road with my motorbike on top of me. There was no one around, it was quiet. I remember lying there, quite peacefully, realising I had to check my fingers and toes to see if I could move them, which I could. But I couldn’t shift the bike. It was too heavy. So I lay there trying to figure out what to do. It was before mobile phones, so I had no means of contacting anyone. After maybe a few minutes I heard a man shouting down from the road above me and eventually he came down and helped move the bike and pull it back up to the road. Once he had checked that the bike could start and that I was uninjured he left. The handlebars were bent at an angle, but I managed to ride it home. I have no explanation for how or why this man stopped to help. It was at night and silent. He couldn’t have seen me disappear over the edge and there were no marks on the road, no fence down, and I was not making a sound and the bike had stopped running. An angel? No shimmering white clothes, strange voices, or Star-Trek-like appearing and disappearing. But then, in the bible, there are quite a few encounters with angels that appear to be ordinary men including the incident with Abraham in Genesis 18 ‘…the Lord appeared to him by the terebinth tree…with…three men standing by Him’.

I don’t expect to have any further encounters like these. I don’t wake up any more than the next person thinking Gabriel might be waiting to see me. If I do, so be it.

But that brief encounter has left me fully believing that there is a heavenly realm that is in total harmony with itself, that exudes peace, that is untroubled, and yet engaged in some loving way with our existence on Earth.

The 3 Questions: Question Three

England 2023:

• 60,000 CofE (Church of England) buildings and a similar number of other denominational buildings are scattered about in Parishes across England.

• The Coronation of Charles III at Westminster Abbey was watched and/or recorded by millions, with thousands lining the streets waving Union Jacks and cheering - with some Republican protestors present in a small minority.

• From beginning to end the Coronation was a Christian ceremony, the various articles of clothing and objects are deeply symbolic of rulership and authority from a biblical perspective. The words spoken and covenants assented to by Charles III were specifically grounded in having faith in Jesus Christ, and the anointing with oil, as conducted by the Archbishop of Canterbury, represented the anointing of King Charles III with the Holy Spirit.

• Constitutionally, we are a Christian nation.

And yet…

Stop the average Brit and ask the following 3 Questions and very rapidly the depth of adherence to, and understanding of, the Christian faith in England is apparent…even among the 5% who attend church services Sunday by Sunday.

Question One: Would you say you are a Christian?

Question Two: Have you ever wanted to believe in Christ?

Question Three: If you wanted to become a Christian would you know how to?

Question Three: If you wanted to become a Christian would you know how to?

The majority of those who live in England know that they are not Christians, in the same way that they know they are not Muslims, or Buddhists, or Sikhs, or Hindus, or Communists, or Fascists. Our religious history maybe ‘Christian’ but the present age, despite State Christian ceremonies such as the Coronation, is more difficult to define.

Question Three would, therefore, be answered by the vast majority with an honest ‘No, if I wanted to become a Christian, I wouldn’t know how to.’

Why? The reason is very simple. Despite our Christian constitution, despite the historically enforced church attendance of the past, despite Christmas, Easter, christening, church marriages, church burials, hymn singing, and prayers, virtually no-one knows what a Christian is. And If you don’t know what a Christian is, there is no hope of knowing how to become one even if you wanted to!

One of the significant barriers to holding a Christian faith isn’t its unpopularity as much as ignorance.

I am a case in point.

I had perhaps a sparse knowledge of some of Jesus’ parables, his miracles, the names of some of the New Testament characters, his mother, Mary, and the disciples. I knew he had, apparently, been crucified and rose again after three days. I knew that a Christian must believe in the resurrection and a few other facts but how to become a Christian or really what is a Christian? were outside my perimeter. All I knew, or felt I knew, was that I doubted the reliability of the New Testament, and therefore doubted the resurrection. I was an agnostic who argued with God that it was fundamentally unfair of Him to judge me if the evidence of His own existence was impossible to establish…and so on.

I was typical, I think of many in England, I had great admiration for Jesus – if he existed - but left in a state of ignorance about any evidence for the reliability of the Scriptures. Consequently, there was no sound basis on which to form a reasonable opinion, let alone belief. The lack of evidence of answered prayer or miraculous healing in the church I attended compounded the problem. The only reasonable position to take was either agnosticism or atheism. I couldn’t be an atheist – for the same reason I couldn’t believe in God. There was as much a lack of evidence in there being No Creator as a Creator. Agnosticism seemed to be the only option.

But all this was to change.

I have attempted to offer these 3 Questions as a run-up to, really, the nub of the matter, the question hiding behind all these questions: What is a Christian?

What is a Christian? is the title for posts in this category on www.unlessaseed.com . Finally it’s time to nail one’s colours to the mast and actually attempt to sketch out a working answer. It’s not complicated BUT the answer really is a complete surprise to many…in the next post.

The Bicycle Poems (ii) Seven Ages of the Bicycle

Now we are six
And I am left alone
With John Newport’s bike
To fall from repeatedly
My grass-stained knees,
Well scratched,
Collecting blood and grit
But ignored and barely felt
And, before sunset,
The boy, the bike,
And the beautiful Earth
Are, at one.

Add a decade and off-balance
Is the norm, the preferred state,
Playing with the limits
Compulsory skid-turns,
Or hanging onto lorries,
Two-ups, no lights,
Hands off the handlebars
No shirt in the summer
Faulty brakes, carrying a full set
Of golf clubs, or rugby boots
Slung round my neck,
Off-balance, the norm.

At twenty-six I commute
On Arnold, a fine five-speed
Holdsworth, a smooth pedigree,
Over the hills between
Whitstable and Canterbury,
On the Winkle line. And past
Kent University built high
Above the Cathedral, like God,
On misty mornings, dark evenings
Wet, windy, and sunbaked
Tarmac-melting days,
Punctures and pounding legs
Race me home

At thirty-six Arnold is stolen
It is my fault. Left unguarded
Leaning in the garage, unlocked,
And visible from the road.
Someone else’s now.
May he discover Arnold’s
Freewheeling excellence
And the joy of the road.
I am in mourning still,
An unusual sadness
Yielded to heaven

Later, thrills aside,
Handlebars gripped
I grind into work,
In Bristol now, over the Downs
To the Gloucester Road
But not every day,
Each ride, a painful reminder of
The need for umpteen gears
Annoyed at those who glide past,
I twist my lips at electric ‘bikes’
They should be renamed
Or pelted with mushrooms.

Forgetting to retract my feet
From the stirrups, the pedals,
The bloke, the bike, and
The beautiful Earth
Head off in random directions.
It’s an abrupt landing.
Bruised but laughing,
Now at sixty-six, and
Still falling repeatedly,
Collecting blood and grit.

But may I steal a glance
Into the future? Will you
Grant me your humour still?
At seventy-six, ‘Faith,
I am competing in a triathlon’
My grandchildren can swim faster
Run further, and ride bikes
Upright, or not, for the world to see
But it is I in the saddle this day

Can I get off now?
Have I finished the race?

Written with more than a nod to As You Like It, Act 2 Sc 7 ‘All the world’s a stage…’

‘All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then, the whining school-boy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like a snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then, a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then, the justice,
In fair round belly, with a good capon lin’d,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws, and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.’

The 3 Questions - Question Two

Question One: Would you say you are a Christian?

Question Two: Have you ever wanted to believe in Christ?

Question Three: If you wanted to become a Christian would you know how to?

QUESTION TWO: Have you ever wanted to believe in Christ?

By the time I was five, or six, my heroes were The Pied Piper, Jesus, and Winston Churchill. Not long afterward, Cassius Clay, later Muhammad Ali, would be added.

The Pied Piper, of course, is a curious choice, but the idea of a musician ridding Hamlin of the rats, Jesus ridding the world of hypocrites through love, miracles and his teaching, and Churchill standing up to and defeating Hitler all appealed to this five-year-old.

(When I was 8, I floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee and inflicted a terrible defeat on the school bully – who wasn’t a bully really. We became good friends. For 5 minutes, at break, when I took on the bully, Peter Mole, I was Ali. He had no chance! My reign was short-lived; I was beaten up by someone else a year or two later! But those moments illustrate the role of heroes, they inspire greatness in others).

What did I know about Jesus?

I knew this, that he walked up to James and John, Peter and Andrew, and Matthew and said, simply: ‘Follow me’ and carried on walking. It said of the fishermen ‘immediately they left their nets and followed him’. I remember sitting in a school assembly at the age of six, maybe, thinking ‘If Jesus walks through the door now, I would get up and follow him’. I knew enough to know that would mean not going home for tea and hitting the road with Jesus!

Comical maybe but maybe I was tapping into what makes Jesus, to this day, good box office. In our millions we turn out to watch films about Jesus:

• The Passion of the Christ 2004 Mel Gibson – cost $30 million but grossed $612 million and was the 5th highest grossing film in 2004

• Jesus of Nazareth 1977 Robert Powell – cost $45 million, film + 4 episodes TV drama, grossed $75 million

• The Greatest Story Ever Told 1965 Charlton Heston cost $20 million, grossed $35 million

The question at the back of everybody’s mind has to be ‘Is it just a story?’.

In other words, is the New Testament an accurate historical document? Or was it made-up, a literary work, no more than a mythical tale, an idealistic presentation of how things should be, could be maybe, but not as they really are?

Once one doubts the reliability of the New Testament, the gospel accounts, the question ‘Have you ever wanted to believe in Jesus?’ is bracketed with Santa Claus, Bigfoot, or the Loch Ness monster, the only difference being that the words ascribed to Jesus, his teaching, how he opposed the Pharisees, the hypocrisy of the religious leaders in Israel…does tend to get the blood moving in a way that talk of mythical creatures or Santa can’t quite match. Hence his appeal. We roar with approval for all he stood for, even though we are the very sinners he came to save, love, forgive, and show kindness and mercy to. We feel inexorably drawn to Jesus.

But we also know to follow him, whatever that means or could look like in the 21st century, is to swim against the tide, to court ridicule, and family and friends will question one’s sanity, and so on. Religion is, of course, in England, one of the conversations that are humorously banned in pubs! Sex and politics the other two.

And, of course, everything that is banned in England is precisely what many people want to talk about despite the divisive nature of the subject matter and the wisdom at times to avoid spoiling a pleasant pint!

By the time I was five, or six, my heroes were The Pied Piper, Jesus, and Winston Churchill.

But avoiding the question is not really an option for anyone who is even vaguely drawn by Jesus. If he was to say ‘Follow me’ our reasoned-secular-sceptical response ‘Hmm, not sure’ isn’t really adequate.

The fact is that despite the secularisation of English society, the drift towards a materialistic, atheistic intellectual climate that looks to science to explain our origins and likely future, many would still say they would like to have the same faith that Jesus had, or would like to see a world like the world Jesus spoke about, or, they have come to the view that the materialistic world-view is hopelessly inadequate and the spiritual realm is not only a reality but an essential ingredient in life.

Despite my personal drift into agnosticism and materialism, I, like many others, still wondered at times, whether it could be true? Surely not! But if it is…That six-year-old desire to ‘leave my nets and follow Jesus’ was lurking in all the arguments and cynicism that had attempted to fill the void.

I suspect, in fact I know, that many who live in England are in the same boat. Few have actually rejected Jesus. But haven’t a clue how to actually embrace Him as a real historical figure, or believe that he came back to life three days after crucifixion and burial.

The 3 Questions: Question One: Would you say you are a Christian?

Question One: Would you say you are a Christian?

Question Two: Have you ever wanted to believe in Christ?

Question Three: If you wanted to become a Christian would you know how to?

The following three posts will explore these 3 Questions.

QUESTION 1: Would you say you are a Christian?

Strangely even this question has fundamentally changed its meaning in the span of my working life.

The first time I completed a work application in 1975 the box titled Religion really meant ‘CofE’ or ‘Catholic’. That’s what the employer expected to read not ‘None’, or ‘Buddhist’, ‘Muslim’, ‘Humanist’…or ‘Christian’. In 1975 I put CofE as I had been brought up to attend the local CofE church on a Sunday morning with my parents. But I wasn’t a believer.

In 1969, 3 out of the 30 in my class at school went to church…and the three of us that did in 1969, by 1975 none of us, as far as I know, continued to attend. By the time we were old enough to find other pursuits more interesting on a Sunday morning (e.g. sleeping, socialising, nursing hangovers, or sport) we had voted with our feet.

We were probably the last generation of schoolboys and girls that had the bible read to them each morning, sung hymns, and muttered Amen to prayers in morning assemblies. By the 1980s very few schools continued to have Christian morning assemblies, the bible hasn’t been read regularly and, as a result, we have become an increasingly secular society that is largely ignorant of the scriptures.

But the truth was that, even with regular bible readings, and hymn singing, very few emerged with any certainty about the historical accuracy of the Old and New Testaments, or evidence for miracles, the existence of Jesus, or the resurrection. There was little or no sign from church services that I attended of what was reported in the pages of the gospels – no miraculous healings, no presence of God, no stories of how becoming a Christian had transformed anyone’s life.

It was, therefore, no surprise that, along with the vast majority, I embraced a material scientific world-view; at best I was agnostic.

Nevertheless, to this day, Jesus is still very popular. Every twenty or so years someone produces a film about Jesus. Millions queue at cinemas. Jesus continues to be box office.

Most would readily agree that you’re not a Christian simply because you attend church, sing hymns, pray, sign your chest with a cross, are baptised, meditate, do good deeds, act in a ‘Christian manner’, try to live a good life, help others, think there’s a heaven or hell, or believe in God; I mean, Muslims, Jews, and many others believe in God but would not say they are Christians. But that leaves open the question: What does it mean to be a Christian?

Before answering that question the second question: ‘Have you ever wanted to believe in Christ?’ needs to be explored.