To be strictly accurate, I wasn’t around in 1985 when the church, then called Edinburgh City Fellowship moved into an old Church of Scotland building that was being vacated.  I have heard the stories, rather like a family pass down its folklore from one generation to another, of digging the baptismal tank, tiling the toilets, and night after night being spent in the hall to make it fit for a young and vibrant congregation.

Last Sunday, we had an opportunity to recount those stories, not just of how the building was converted to a modern day worship centre, but also of the people, the worship, the teaching, the lives changed through those years.  Many of the stories were from olden days, but more recent attendees remarked on the sense of community and the space to think about faith for oneself.  The fruit continues.

Over the years, alongside the many wonderful and great things our God has done in the building and more importantly in the people who have come to that building (either for one off events or week by week, day by day to worship, learn or work) there has also been our fair share of pain and disappointment.  But despite the brokenness of human beings, God has brought beauty from ashes, gladness from mourning, and praise from despair.

When the building was bought from the Church of Scotland, they wanted the building to continue as a place of worship and that has been at the heart of what the church has been about the last 25 years.  One contribution last Sunday talked of the church being an oasis, a place where people would come to drink and be refreshed in the midst of journeying through the desert.  Some might only come once, others have made it their home.

I was inspired with a strong sense that this building, although only stones and mortar, is a place that people have come to meet with a God who loves them, and we need to continue that and deepen that, over the next 25 years.

Although we were looking back over the last 25 years, we were also looking forward to the next 25 years.  A new season is dawning, and new era of people are emerging who will continue to tell the story of a God who loves people, in the community of people we call “Community Church Edinburgh”, in Edinburgh and to the nations.

It was good to be reminded of some of what God has done, and great to be inspired of what lies ahead as we find the presence of God among us.

When Isaiah spoke this oracle, the Assyrian Empire had already destroyed and taken into captivity the northern Kingdom of Israel, and was threatening the southern Kingdom of Judah.  The year is probably 701BC, and Hezekiah is King of Judah, although he isn’t mentioned in this passage.  While he was in general a good king, the leaders of Judah had decided that the only way to stop the superior might of the Assyrian armies was to form an alliance with Egypt who would protect them (vs. 1-5).

This alliance was not a equal partnership as we might think of two nations forming today.  The only way to get Egypt’s help was to buy it – to cart over the Negev desert that separates Judah and Egypt some of the national wealth to secure the military help of Egypt (vs 6).

A reasonable response you might think.  But along comes Isaiah and says that this is not a plan that the Lord is happy with, nor one that they consulted Him about (vs 1&2).  In fact it will only end in their disgrace and shame (vs. 3-5), because Egypt is utterly useless, as the Lord calls them “Rahab the Do-Nothing”.  (vs 7)

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The imagery might be lost on us, but Rahab was a well known mythical monster in ancient days, powerful yet chaotic.  But the Lord says Egypt is like this mythical monster who sits around, and does absolutely nothing to help!  So why invest your national wealth into this alliance when it will be utterly useless in protecting you from the Assyrians?

This alliance, having been formed without the Lord, means that Judah keep God at arms length.  They want to prophets to say nice things to them, things that confirm the choices they have made.  They don’t want Isaiah to come along and confront them with the “Holy One of God” (vs. 10-11).  This alliances stops them praying, and keeps God away.

Finally in this oracle, the Lord pronounces his verdict on the outcome of this alliance:  it is like a wall (that separates Judah from the Lord) that gives an illusion of protection and security, but in reality is bulging, cracked and will come crashing down, just like a piece of pottery will smash if it dropped on a rock.  Nothing will remain.  The effect will be devastating.

So what might this mean for us today?  We don’t form alliances with other nations, but what do we form alliances with, that give us an illusion of security and wellbeing?   On Sunday, we built a wall (of cardboard boxes) and together we all came up with ideas on what alliances we might form today.  Ranging from work, to food, to success, to national identity, the wall was filled with lots of things that we can form an alliance with, that seems to give us some sense of security or wellbeing.

We invest in these alliances: our time, energy, emotional energy, thinking, and sometimes money, to demand a return from the object of our alliance.  Most of the things we form alliances with are not bad in themselves.  In fact they are good, but somehow along the way, the relationship we form is twisted.  For example, with work, God has given us work for us to contribute to the world around us.  Work is a good thing.  But sometimes the relationship we form with work becomes unhealthy and we are driven to find our identity, a source of self worth, and security from our work.  No longer is the work something that serves us, but we start serving the work, in our desperate need for what it gives us.

The Lord offers us a way out from these alliances.  A way of taking down the wall, brick by brick, before it collapses.  It isn’t easy, nor quick.  But it is possible.  And to hear more about this, you will have to come to Community Church on Sunday 11th …

However experienced or long we have been a praying people, there is always so much to learn.  And we learn to pray by praying.  Insights, understanding, encouragement from others can all help to inspire us to pray.  But we learn to pray, when we actually pray.  So Jesus’ response to the disciples’ question was:  “When you pray…”  (Lk 11:1-2).

So these series of evenings won’t teach us to pray.  But they might help us learn how to pray.  We will be looking at different aspects of prayer during the evening, but the main component will be individual prayer itself – trying out different ways of praying, tools and resources!  And then some time to reflect and learn together on what was helpful and difficult about the prayer.

The topics we will be looking at include: finding stillness in our bodies and minds; rhythm and liturgy & the structures that helps us when life is busy or prayer is difficult; meditation and imaginative contemplation on Scripture; different personalities and prayer – finding what works for us.  All the dates and content each evening can be found here.

If you do wish to come along, please get in contact with me.

It has often been thus.  Even in the days of Israel, keeping God at arms length served their purposes.  Isaiah parodied their response:

Give us no more visions of what is right!
       Tell us pleasant things,
       prophesy illusions.

Leave this way,
       get off this path,
       and stop confronting us
       with the Holy One of Israel!

(Isa 30:10-11)

This almost seems an unbelievable response.  How can it be possible for God’s people to prefer to keep God away?  Is it possible that we, too, don’t want God to come too close?  Could a lack of prayer highlight a far deeper problem about our trust in God?

The Prodigal Son is an incredibly well known story (Luke 15:11-32).  But often the focus is on the younger son, who leaves home with his inheritance from his not-yet-dead Father, squanders it, and returns to find and experience the grace and kindness of the Father.

What is less often looked at is the older son, who stays at home all the time, working hard on the family estate, faultless in so many ways, and yet we discover in the story that he is every bit as lost as his younger brother.   We first get a hint of this, when the welcome home party for the younger son is in full swing, and the older son returns home.  Instead of entering into the house, he stays outside asking a servant what is going on.  Then angrily he confronts his Father with all the simmering resentment under the surface of his heart, due to his perceived lack of appreciation for all his hard work and the unfairness of the treatment of his brother.

The self-righteousness of the older brother is harder to see in our own hearts than the blatant rebellion of the younger son.  We can do all the right stuff.  Outwardly, we can seem a good Christian.  We can attend church; always helping out; serving; teaching; praying with others; bringing friends to church etc.  But we are doing all this out of duty.  We can even pray regularly.  But our prayer seems to revolve around the work we are doing.  The Father seems more like a boss, who is directing the work, than a loving dad who enjoys hanging out with his sons.

And deep in our hearts, the situation is even more desperate, when we find a moment to stop the activity to reflect on its condition.  We find we resent the success of others, even someone secretly hoping for others downfall or comeuppance.  The joy of others new found faith or simplistic versions of faith annoy us.  Occasionally the anger and resentment bubbles out, but mostly we keep it under control by business and noise and not stopping.

For if we stopped, we would be confronted with the hardness and darkness of our own heart.  We would be confronted by our own anger and jealousy.  We would be confronted by own lostness.  And we might also be confronted by the irresistible love of the Father, wooing us back home.

Why don’t we pray?  Because it is sometime just too scary to stop all the activity and to be confronted with ourselves, alone with God.

Let me tell you a story I told last Sunday at church.  My sabbatical was in two parts.  The first a course and holiday.  The second part was 11 weeks, based at home, but with no emails, tasks, things to organise, sermons to preach, people to see, things to plan etc.  The focus was prayer, scripture reflection, study, reading and personal reflection.

The first few days of this eleven week period I sorted out my out-of-control inbox, cleared and sorted piles of paperwork, and drafted a daily and weekly plan of prayer, reading and study for these 11 weeks.  By the end of the third day, the one thing I hadn’t done, was the very thing I was there to do: pray.  Nor open my Bible.

One of the things I learnt from this, is that time is rarely the reason why I don’t pray.  Desire is.

But I learnt something deeper from this story.  It revealed something about my heart.  I learnt about some of the searching questions I have about God and myself, which rarely punctuate my consciousness, but when other things are stripped away they were glaringly obviously to me.

This Sunday at Community Church, I will talk about uncovering some of the deep questions, and how bringing them to the surface can reveal why we don’t pray.

The second part of Sunday’s Sermon was Mary and Martha (Lk 10:38-42).

Martha and Mary are found in other gospel stories, principally in John 11 and 12.  We see them as part of the community of Jesus, his friends and as people who trust him.  Martha shows remarkable faith in Jesus, when her brother Lazarus died.  Mary’s grief moves Jesus to action.  Mary shows huge devotion to Jesus in anointing his feet.  Martha gets a meal ready for the disciples, and there is no hint that wasn’t appreciated.

If it wasn’t for this passage in Luke’s gospel, Martha wouldn’t have the bad press she has got in church circles.

In fact, when you start delving in this passage, she seems as though she is a good disciple of Jesus too.  Perhaps we need to revisit the dualistic interpretations of this passage, that seem to force us to choose between the serving Martha or contemplative Mary?

Martha “received” Jesus, as he was travelling with his disciples.  This word had been used earlier in Lk 10, when the 72 were sent out in pairs without money.  People who “received” them, gave them food to eat, a place to stay, but also identified with Jesus and his mission.  So Martha’s action was much more than opening her home to Jesus.  It was identifying with the mission of Jesus, showing her to be an important member of Jesus’ community.

Martha was however “distracted” by all the “preparations that had to be made” (NIV).  Other Bible translations make the ‘interpretation’ even clearer: Martha was busy preparing a meal.  However, the Greek doesn’t actually have any word for meal here.  The word that is used is “diakonia” – service or ministry.  This word most often is used by Luke for ministry or leadership within the community of Jesus.  It might include in serving food, but if we make this interpretation we are reading that into the text.

Could it be that Martha is “distracted”, not by the meal preparations, but by the business of the mission and community of Jesus?  Whatever, the heart of her problem is that Mary is not pulling her weight.  Martha’s perspective is that she is doing all the work, and so the source of her distraction is a conflict with Mary.

The word “distracted” is a little difficult to translate, but it has connotations of being pulled away.  Martha has lost her sense of centeredness.

Martha does, what all good disciples of Jesus should do at this point: she prays.  She asks for Jesus’ help and intervention.  She asks Jesus to enlist Mary’s help.

I love what Jesus does at this point:  he takes the conversation to another level.  Martha is complaining about her sister not pulling her weight, and how she is doing all the work.  But Jesus doesn’t respond at that level at all … he starts talking about her anxiety.  Martha, says Jesus, your problem isn’t really your conflict with Mary.  Your problem is really your stress and anxiety.  This is what is pulling you off center.  This is what is causing you to be out of sync.  And, offers Jesus, the very thing that Mary is doing, is exactly what you need to be doing, to get back to the source of this mission and ministry you are involved with.

Jesus isn’t offering a choice for disciples: either action or contemplation.  He is offering Martha a way out from her stress.

In Luke’s gospel, we see an ebb and flow between mission, and returning to the source of that mission.  Just a few verses earlier, the 72 return from their mission, amazed at what they were doing.  Jesus immediately draws them back to the source: rejoice that your names are written in heaven.

Jesus invites us, too, to an ebb and flow of action and contemplation.  Mission in our workplaces, colleges, communities and streets.  Return the source of the mission, to draw life from Jesus and remember whose mission it is anyway!

I suggested on Sunday, using “imaginative contemplation” with the Scripture this week.  Each day read the text, and imagine yourself in the story, perhaps as a different character each time (eg Mary, Matha, a disciple, a onlooker).  What do you feel?  See?  Hear?  What is going on inside you, and the story plays out?  Can this Scripture help us tap into our deepest desires?

Part 1 can be read here.  This is a short summary of the first part of what I said yesterday (Sunday 13th September) at church.  The audio will be available from our website in a day or two.

“There have been times when I think we do not desire heaven; but more often I find myself wondering whether, in our heart of hearts, we have ever desired anything else.”  CS Lewis. The Problem of Pain.

Our desires often seem to ebb and flow, but it perhaps more helpful to see we have different desires competing for our attention and to gain the upper hand.  We may want to ask the girl out (a desire that flows in one direction) competes with the desire not to face potential rejection.  We may want to get fit by going to the gym, but we may prefer to watch the TV instead.  We will end up acting on the strongest desire.

So I think people of faith do want to pray.  They know the value.  But often, we also want to do other things (stay in bed, have the radio on in the car, read a paper on the bus, watch TV, have a  coffee with friends) which compete with our desire to pray.

However, I believe, deep in the heart of every human being is longing for something Divine.  Something beyond ourselves.  To be loved and to love.  To be secure and held.  To have value and purpose; adventure and significance.  To be part of a world where there is no suffering or pain.  These “deepest longings” are often untapped and lie dormant, but speak of our being made in the image of God.

These desires are dangerous.  To long for something deeply opens us up to pain.  The longing will inevitably not be fulfilled to some extent (this side of heaven anyway).  It is much safer to keep these wild longings buried away, where they can’t cause so much trouble.  But in the process we lose something of ourselves, and what we were created for.

These deepest longings can’t be discovered by our rational mind, which is bad news for many of us raised in our terribly rational western world.  But they can be tapped into through music, story, poems, art, images, beauty, creation, scripture and prayer.  We can learn to recognise these deep longings, and as they poke their head above the surface of our lives, and if we nurture them, they can become powerful motivating forces for prayer.

The desire to pray (and for God) resides within every human being.  We just need to let it out.

If I knew the answer to that one, I could write a book, become famous …

Bill Hybels did it, in 1988, when no-one had heard of Bill Hybels or Willowcreek.  “Too Busy not to Pray”.  I was a student at the time.  And I was too busy to read the book.  It still sits on my bookshelf, mostly unread.  Too busy to read the book, we joked at the time.  And too busy to pray, we often still say.

“Prayer takes time” says Bill Hybels, “and we are so busy!”.  Time and prayer.  We link them together, but somehow prayer rarely gets time.

But here is something I have learnt this summer:  time is never the reason we don’t pray.  Maybe I should soften that slightly: time is rarely the reason we don’t pray.  There may be the odd day, when we really don’t have a moment.  But I suggest these days are odd.  They aren’t the norm.  My point still stands.  Time is rarely the issue.  It is a convenient excuse.

The issue is desire.

You may think you know what I am going to say now.  Our desires are wrong.  We need to stifle our desire to watch TV, read magazines, check facebook, or read blogs, so that we all pray more.  Or that we all need to desire Jesus more, to conjure up some passion for the Lord.

Well actually no.  This Sunday, at Community Church, I will suggest that we don’t trust our desires enough, let them out, let them loose, let them run wild and see where they take us.  I think they might just lead us to prayer…

PS. If you want to do some reading beforehand, you could read a very familiar story in Lk 10 38-42

Towards the end of the gathering, there were a couple of thoughts that were shared.  I hope my repeating them here does them justice.

Leslie H. came forward, having felt as she was getting ready to come to church, that the morning gathering could be a very significant one in the life of the church.  She then sensed that individuals were walking around fountains being refreshed and healed.

Alan C. then spoke about the sign pictured here, that he had seen in a local funeral parlour (do we still use that word?), which had amused him.  But he sensed that this Sunday could be a monumental service for us.  But monuments take a long time to build.  It is a long term thing, not something that happens overnight.

Reflecting on both these words, I sense they clarify something important.  I love the image of fountains.  I speaks to me of refreshment and stillness.  Space.  A chance to stop the fervent activity of most our lives.  This wasn’t some call to deep intercessory prayer, although prayer for others may well be part of what emerges.  This was an invitation to daily stop at the feet of Jesus, and listen.  Be still and know.

Secondly, it was not designed to suggest some instant transformation.  Not some quick fix.  Alan’s thoughts captured this nicely.  So often we give up on prayer because we do not get the results we want.  But prayer, that becomes a rhythm, a habit, and an integrated part of lives, will transform, as the persistent love of Jesus invades our lives.  If last Sunday (or this, or the one after that…) inspires someone to make daily prayer part of their life, then it truly will have been a monumental service.

I am sure there are lots of answers, each probably unique to the person that Jesus is asking the question.  For me, I found the answer in an ancient poem, originally written by a King of an ancient nation, but later probably used as part of their liturgy.  The King, initially declares his confidence and trust in the Lord: He is light (to dispel darkness), salvation (or deliverance) and refuge (or stronghold).  In this poem, we then see immediately the context that required such confidence: evil men were advancing; enemies were attacking him; armies besieging him; war was breaking out.

If I was in that situation, I would be praying for victory, that Lord would smite my enemies, that I would be delivered!  But this ancient King didn’t pray that all – he prayed:

One thing I ask of the LORD,
       this is what I seek:
       that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
       all the days of my life,
       to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
       and to seek him in his temple.

This King seemed to be saying that, in the midst of these advancing armies, the most important thing he could pray, was to dwell in the presence of the Lord – to live permanently in God’s presence.  You can read the rest of the poem in Psalm 27.

We (mostly) don’t have literal enemies who are intent on killing us.  But we are surrounded by things that sap life, real life from us.  Jesus offers us life, that is found as we become less angry and reconciled with others, when we respect others, remain faithful to our spouse and friends even through difficulties, when we learn to love people even when they hate us, as we forgive and trust and don’t judge etc.  This is not the way of our culture, and there enough voices to listen to, that would seek to rob us of this life that Jesus offers.

And so on Sunday, I invited our congregation to a radical concept: daily prayer.  Daily dwelling in the presence in the presence of the Lord.

This isn’t some quick fix, or instant life-changing concept.  But it will change us over time, as we learn to be still, to stop, to listen, to receive, and be transformed in the presence of Jesus.  As I have practiced this ancient discipline over the summer, I have found gradually and slowly, that Jesus is transforming my heart, and somehow the surrounding enemies that seek to steal the heaven-on-earth life don’t have quite the same power they once seemed to have.

So when Jesus stands before me, what do I ask him?  That daily I might come into his presence and be transformed.  That is real life…

If you want to listen to the sermon, you can listen here.

It seems such an innocent question.  But it penetrates deeply to our core.  This is no ordinary offer of help.  This is Jesus.  And he is offering to do something for you.  Anything.  You just need to name it.

This was the question that a man, many years ago, was asked by Jesus.  He had an immediate answer for Jesus: “I want to see” for he was blind and therefore had no money, wasn’t able to work, and had to rely on begging to just to survive.  He was the poorest of the poor, in a society that had a lot of poor people.  Jesus spoke some words, and the man was able to see.  You can read this story in Lk 18:35-43.

Four years ago, while on holiday in France, I was meditating on this Scripture.  I had a strong sense that Jesus was asking me that question: it was a serious question that he was looking for an answer for.  He might even grant what I asked for!  But what should I ask for?  The more I thought about it, the more I realised what a penetrating question it was.  And most of the answers I could think of, seemed so superficial, so shallow, so transitory.  The question revealed something:  the desires of my heart, and what I saw there was more carnal that I cared to admit.

So I return to my question:  Jesus is standing in front of you, and asking you a question:  “What do you want me to do for you?”  What would you reply?  What would you ask Jesus to do?

It has taken me four years to figure out an answer.  But this summer, I finally settled on an answer, hoping Jesus had been patient with me, as he waited for an answer.  It turns out, that I wasn’t the first to ask this of him.  What did I ask him?  Well for that, you will need to come to Community Church this Sunday (6th September) at 10.30am to find out…

On the first day, I realised I hadn’t come to a conflict resolution course at all, but a “conflict transformation” course.  Now that might seem like semantics, but there is the wor(l)d of difference.

In many circles (perhaps especially business), there is discussion around “managing conflict”.  The idea is to effectively minimise conflict, contain it, and eventually sweep it away, preferably without having to face it.  Conflict Resolution is a second understanding of  reducing conflict within organisations.  The danger here, is that there is somehow the prospect that all conflict can be resolved, some unanimity found, a common agreement.  But that is not always the case, and potentially can lead to the suppression of conflict within an organisation.  What we were being offered was “conflict transformation” … a way of transforming the conflict from a potential danger to potential opportunity, and in the process transforming the individuals involved and their relationship.  Resolution may never be achieved, but transformation can be, and even if resolution is achieved, transformation takes it deeper.

And the course was certainly transformational .  At the beginning we were invited to draw an image that depicted conflict for us.  Most of us, myself included, drew something with negative connotations.  By the end of the week, we were all invited again to draw an image, and I certainly felt much more positive towards the idea of conflict, realising that I have some skills to engage with conflict constructively, that it is a normal part of being human and engaging with other humans, and it doesn’t have to be destructive, but can be constructive.

Of course, conflict can escalate quickly, and can be devastating.  I have some experience of this.  But conflict suppression is no antidote for bad handling of conflict.  Churches are experts at both, but we should be world leaders at transforming conflict.  We have the model and the teaching of Jesus, and the work of the Spirit today, that can bring us to healthy engagement with conflict.

One of our values at a church community is “celebrating diversity”.  We certainly have some diversity, and resist attempts at conformity.  But I am not sure we have learnt to celebrate that diversity – a culture within our community that encourages difference, learns from others perspectives that are different from ours, embraces others, and engages constructively with conflict. 

I need to learn to draw out the voices of people who see things differently, who disagree with me or the prevailing wisdom, who have alternative perspectives to share.  This will enrich us, and help us to discern together God’s presence and leading, and respect & engage everyone within our community.

And this was just from session 1!  More reflections to follow.

If you had to draw an image of conflict what would that be?  Do you thing conflict could ever be constructive?

You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men. You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.

Often these verses have been used to encourage individuals in “personal evangelism”.  However, we need to bear in mind that Jesus has in mind here a community, a Kingdom Community, who demonstrate to the world there is a different way to live.

In our English this is masked by the the world “you” which can be either singular or plural.  The Greek is clear: it is plural, you could translate “you folks”.  You folks are the salt of the earth.  You folks are the light of the world.  The community of people, who live out the sermon on the mount, are salt and light, in the way they live together.  In the way they sort out their differences.  In the way they are faithful to each other.  In the way they are people of integrity, doing what they say will do.  In the way they don’t retaliate and love each other. 

They show a world that is watching, there is a different way to live.  A world that is so often characterised by grudges, bitterness, unforgiveness, revenge, unfaithfulness, lying, hatred. 

It all seems so reasonable.  If someone offends you, get your own back.  Or at very least, don’t let him do that again.  And probably a few judicially placed words to others, to make sure (of course) that they can’t do the same to others. 

Stay married.  Until it is better for you to separate.  Feeling stifled?  Feeling unfulfilled? Arguing all the time? Found someone else?  Well then go on, its OK, start again…

Look out for yourself.  No one else will.  So its good to be honest, until you find yourself in a situation where lying is a better option.  To cover up indiscretion and incompetence.  To climb the ladder.  Dog eat dog is justified as that’s the way the world works.

But Jesus calls his followers to a different way.  To live it together.  And to live it in such a way that others who aren’t followers of The Way, can see there is a different way.

Most commonly, though, they have been presented, as ideal or virtues that “good” Christians should aspire towards.  Hence they are sometimes called the “be-attitudes”!  To read them this way, does require some gymnastics with the mean of the words, which are invariably spiritualised.  So “blessed are those who mourn” is taken from it clear meaning of people who have suffered some kind of bereavement or loss, to people who mourn or grieve over their Sin.

To understand the Matthew passage, we must also keep in mind Luke’s version of the beatitudes (Lk 6:20-23), which invariably make the blessing more gritty and earthy:  blessed are the poor (instead of Matthew’s poor in spirit); blessed are the hungry (rather than those who hunger and thirst after righteousness).  Further insight in gleaned when we consider Isa 61, which has many echoes of the people that Jesus is referring to in the beatitudes, but Isa 61 it clear that the Holy Spirit is to break in the lives of these people to bring deliverance, to set them free, to comfort them, to bring hope instead of mourning.

All this pushes us to reconsider the beatitudes.  It seems to me that they speak, not so much as virtues to aspire for, but they say more about what God blesses.  He blesses people, that the world around us considers not worthy of being blessed.

You don’t have to be like these to people to be blessed.

But if you are like these people you can be blessed by God.

The “poor” being refereed to here, are the lowest of the low of society.  The unclean and the expendable.  The drop outs, the dregs, the failures, the won’t be missed, not noticed, irrelevant of society.  The ones that are hidden away, an embarrassment, shunned, pushed, trodden down.  And Jesus says that even they can be blessed by God.   The Kingdom is theirs.   The values of the Kingdom are turning everything upside down. 

We live in a world (and often a church) that blesses the successful, go getters, rich, powerful, attractive, those people who have got it together.  But Jesus blesses people in spite of their inadequacies.  Not because they are virtuous.  But in spite of their brokenness and failure.

And we are called to be like Jesus, and do the same.

I will write in a later post my view of the other blessings in Matthew 5.

Over the next year in our church, I am speaking on the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7).  Over the last few months, I have been reflecting on the famous inaugural speech from Jesus, as he seems to outline his manifesto.  It is gripping, scary, and very enticing.  Imagine a world where everyone lived this sermon?  Where we loved our enemies, sorted out our differences, remained faithful to those we loved in heart and action, where we resolved our anger towards others, didn’t worry about tomorrow but trusted God, where we didn’t judge others, and weren’t consumed by the pursuit of money, but served God?

Sounds a bit like heaven on earth.

And so, this last Sunday, I opened the series, primarily looking at the context for the sermon.  Here is a summary.  You can listen to it here, once it is uploaded in a day or two.  Your thoughts and comments would be appreciated, as we learn together, and discern what God is saying to us.

The Context

Jesus came announcing the Kingdom had come, and was here (Mt 4:17).  Now.  Not some future hope (although it was surely that too).  But the possibility of living in the Kingdom on earth, now.  Here.

To demonstrate that the Kingdom had come, Jesus  travelled throughout Galilee, healing people who were sick and ill, setting people free, and preaching about the Kingdom (Mt 4:23-25).  Crowds followed him, as this revival spread.  And we come to Mt 5:1-2 …

Now when he saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, and he began to teach them saying:

Jesus left the revival (as good as it was) because it was too small a vision.  I believe he had seen something about the Kingdom, that was wouldn’t just change a few people’s lives, but change the world.

A New Community

Jesus saw a community of God’s people, who would live out the Kingdom life, on earth.  Groups of people, who would realise the instability of the worlds system, that one day will eventually pass away, and would live with a different set of values.

For ages, I have always thought of the sermon on the mount as an individual ethic.  But it isn’t.  It is how we can live in Christian community.  A community that will embody the Kingdom.  Jesus leaves the crowds; his disciples follow (not the 12, as they weren’t all together yet – but a group of people who were willing to follow Jesus).  Jesus has a vision of them forming a visible Christian community, that would show people there is a different (and better) way to live.

A Missional Community

This community is at its heart, a missional community.  Not necessarily in what is does, but in who it is.  We are salt and light.  We reveal the nature of God, by the way we love, and forgive, and trust God, and don’t judge, and don’t rely on power, manipulation, status, or position.

We don’t form community that is hidden or removed from the world in which we live.  We live this out, in the midst of the world around.  But we aren’t of the same system.  As Hauerwas says in the title of his book, we are “resident aliens”

Turn the world upside down

Jesus invites us into this kind of community.  It isn’t a question of are we saved or not.  Or will we go to heaven.  But to go beyond faith in Christ being for our personal needs, to living and incarnating the Kingdom with others.  And this will turn the world upside down.  When Paul & Silas were in Thessalonica, they upset some of the Jews and people were becoming Christians (were they worried about their diminished influence?) and they went to get them questioned, shouting “these men have caused trouble all over the world!” (NIV).  Which doesn’t sound that attractive to me!  But it is more helpfully translated “these who have turned the world upside down have come here too“. (NKJV).

Jesus left the revival, because he has a vision of a Kingdom and a Kingdom people who would turn the world upside down.  He invites us, to move beyond our allegiances to this system and values that characterise so much of this world, to turn the world upside down. 

Now I think that is worth giving our lives to.

What do you think?

I will write some more on the background, and include some of the quotes later in the week.  But in the meantime, here is some food for thought and discussion.

So with money, people who are on the verge of bankruptcy, who are so heavily in debt need drastic action, and a debt advisor is the place to go.  However, there are huge numbers of people, who aren’t in that desperate situation, but are in debt, who do need help in controlling their finances.  That is where "The Money Clinic" comes in, through either meeting with the person individually, or providing some group training: we help people get in control of their finances.

Neil Duguid, who set up the Money Clinic, sent me this brilliant short video about Maria’s story, of how she got control of her finances using an envelope cash system, that will become clear as you watch the video … 

It is 10 minutes long; I found it very moving, and really worth watching.  This is how I would love to be helping people, with good money management principles, regardless of their connection with church or otherwise.  I think it is the kind of thing that Jesus would be doing – freeing people from the tyranny of serving money.

I found myself cringing, as I recognised how excruciating is can be for people who are not used to church culture, arriving in something that anyone who has been around church for more than a few years gets immune to!

I had an interesting experience, going to a 4 day coaching events for the business world, which is not a world I have any real experience of at all.  There were about 15 of us in total, including some very high flyers from some very well known and large businesses and multinationals.  As they described their work and world, they might as well have been talking Greek as far as I was concerned – I just didn’t understand the language.  When they explained what they meant, I actually understood what they were talking about, but is very easy to feel that you are not part of the "in crowd" or to feel a bit stupid because you don’t understand what everyone else seems to.  I wonder how often people feel like that when the come to church (any church, whatever your tradition!) for the first time?

I was invited to another such course, in a couple of weeks time.  I felt that familiar tingle of anxiety, as I thought about being in such an unfamiliar environment.  Maybe that is a regular feeling for people as they wake up on a Sunday morning and contemplate entering our unfamiliar environment of church?

What do you think?  What was your reaction on watching this video?

Well, your friend did eventually turn up, and you realised that, like any party, “start at ten” means come some time after ten. But, by the end of the event you had met some new people that seemed really interested in you … somehow they managed to make you feel that they were enjoying meeting you. You’d got two invitations back to other things that were happening, and while you weren’t sure quite what would happen there, you knew that you would not feel out of it … at least, not if these new friends had anything to do with it.

That was the first of a whole new journey which redefined what you thought about church, and … a bit later … Jesus. In fact, it was the start of a journey into finding your place in the church community. A month later, you feel that some of those initial friends were rather like doors … opening into a whole new community. One person seemed to lead to another, and now you are beginning to belong in this new circle of friends.

Why did it work? The Welcome Table at the back didn’t appear in this story, and neither did rotas or smiley badges. No new visitor form, to be followed up by a pastoral team. Just people, after a shakey start in this case, kicking in and drawing the new visitor in and befriending them.

What we are looking at is how to make the organic approach work better, and also to put a parallel system in place underneath this to try to ensure that new members are drawn in. Do you have any ideas about how this would work?

What about having a picture gallery of all of us, on a couple of the MDF boards? Perhaps also doing this for us grouped into cells? Or getting more pics into the online directory … or are we pressuring people too much? What about more weekends and social functions? Book a hostel and go to Loch Ossian, or Comrie, or New Lanark for the weekend? Or just leave it as it is?

Post written by Neil Duguid as part of this series.  Other posts: Part 1, 2, & 3.

OK. You’ve never been before, but your friend persuaded you … great music, doughnuts … and now you find yourself walking up the steps. Your friend is somewhere inside, and your only thought is to find that welcome face.

The steward gives you a sheet of paper (you wonder what that is, but the print is a bit small and grey) but didn’t actually break off from talking to someone else to make you welcome. Where do I go now? It’s like visiting an unfamiliar multiplex … which door do I go through to find my friend? But no one notices your uncertainty.

You wander through the door which most other people are using (always a good sign), and are in the main auditorium. But you can’t see your friend … can’t see the doughnuts … the band is still soundchecking … and after a few minutes you begin to wonder if the rest of the audience, who are mostly standing around and chatting, can’t see you either. Have you worn your invisibility cloak? You give your friend two minutes to find you, otherwise you’ll be offski.

Practical hint – if you are bringing someone new, arrange to meet them at a rendezvous point on their route and come in with them, it’s like being able to use that VIP channel at airport security. The one person that they already know is their passport to a whole new group of friends.

But the challenge is … why didn’t we notice that new person who had just arrived for the first time. And, equally, do we notice the established member who looked a bit out of it.

The way Rick Warren puts the challenge is – how can I start treating other people at church like my own family?

How can we help people make newcomers feel at home? Literally! Perhaps a simple listening skills course would help, aimed at working through the "Hi, I’m Tom" scenario, helping people to offer friendship and to open doors.  How many of us have "the ability to build relationships"? What does it depend on?

Here’s Donald Miller from Blue like Jazz (Chapter 18):

Here is something very simple about relationships … : Nobody will listen to you unless they sense that you like them.

If a person senses that you do not like them, that you do not approve of their existence, then your religion and your political ideas will all seem wrong to them. If they sense that you like them, then they are open to what you have to say …

When I am talking to somebody there are always two conversations going on. The first is on the surface; it is about politics or music or whatever our mouths are saying. The other is beneath the surface, on the level of the heart, and my heart is either communicating that I like the person I am talking to or I don’t. God wants both conversations to be true. That is, we are supposed to speak truth in love … if you talk to somebody with your mouth, and your heart does not love them, you are like a person standing there smashing two cymbals together. You are only annoying everybody around you …

Now … when I go to meet somebody, I pray that God will help me feel His love for them. I ask God to make it so both conversations, the one from the mouth and the one from the heart, are true.