Anything you Want to be?

June 10, 2019 / admin / 2019, Sermons

Sermon for Pentecost 2019 preached by the Reverend Trevor Jamison

“You can be anything you want to be!” That’s what we sometimes say to children or young people about their future: “you can be anything you want to be.” Maybe someone has said it to you at some point in your life. “You can be anything you want to be,” and then we often add, “if you put your mind to it.”

And you can understand why someone would want to say that. You want to encourage a child, a teenager, or a young adult, not set their sights too low; to achieve all that they can achieve. And it’s especially important to offer that sort of encouragement, when by virtue of circumstances such as their gender, race or social standing, they are receiving a host of discouraging messages about their potential.

So, you can be anything you want to be. There are only two problems with that statement, the first of which is that it’s not true. If it was true I would have been a test-class cricketer, opening the batting for England. No amount of optimistic attitude, no application of my mind to it, no amount of practice, was ever going to overcome my lack of the essential God-given physical attributes of strength and hand-eye coordination that would make this possible. There are some things which are just meant not to be, and you need that dose of realism to put alongside optimism and ambition if you are to avoid unnecessary disappointment.

The second problem with, “you can be anything you want to be” is the more serious one. It’s ok to dream and to achieve, but what if you dream of being something that you should not be; what if you dream of doing things that should not be done? That takes us into a meditation upon the flawed human condition – one that we sometimes refer to with the word, “sin” – and it brings us to Genesis chapter eleven: the Tower of Babel.

The problem is not about aspiration as such. The problem is about some of the things to which human beings aspire. Some people today aspire to be jet pilots (another one that was never, never going to work out for me) or astronauts, or rock stars, or famous television personalities: no problem. Others, however, aspire to world domination, or to being criminal masterminds, or some more modest versions of being in charge so that you can lord it over others, or taking from others what you want for yourself. The people in Genesis eleven have those sorts of aspiration.

A nomadic people, coming from the east (11:2), they settled down, using the latest brick technology to build themselves a city. (11:3-4) But then human pride, mixed with anxiety takes hold: ‘let us make a name for ourselves, otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.’ (11:4) And the way in which they decide to achieve this is by building a tower which will reach all the way up into the heavens. (11:4)

Rather than depend upon God or the gods to come to them, to give them what they needed to flourish in life, they were going to take matters into their own hands; to be the ones who spanned the gap and could move back and forth between heaven and earth at will. They were going to be in charge. They were going to be gods. And then, of course, they could be anything they wanted to be!

Now you can, if you wish, read this account of the aborted building project as an historical account of an event that took place. Alternatively, and I tend in this direction myself, you can read it as tale told to help people reflect on the human condition. We aspire to great things. Often, though, these aspirations are concerned only with our own benefit. And when we aspire to do things for our own benefit then those with whom we could cooperate to do these great things – build a new city, for example – are the very ones with whom we fall out. And in our competing aspirations we end up not even being able to talk to each other.

And what happens with individuals also occurs with groups of people. Some aspire to reach the heavens, to be above everyone else, to be gods in comparison to other puny beings. Here we are today, a short while after commemorating the D-Day landings. These were a pivotal event in the struggle to liberate people from Nazism, a humanly constructed ideology which attempted to dominate the world, with claims of racial greatness, and accompanying horrific mistreatment of those they disdained; of anyone who stood in their way.

D-Day was a moment of great reversal. A militaristic, murderous, machine, imbued with a character of racist superiority – we are like gods in comparison to those others – had flowed westward, but now was being pushed back; a moment worthy celebration and thanksgiving. And D-Day comes to my mind not just because of the timing – seventy-five years and a few days after the event – but because today is Pentecost Sunday. And Pentecost is a great day and a great moment of reversal. It’s about the reversal of that situation, that condition where human flaws turn great aspirations into aspirations to dominate others and benefit self.

At the conclusion of the Babel episode, we’re told, ‘the LORD scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth.’ (11:9) In contrast, the day of Pentecost, in Jerusalem, as recounted in Acts chapter two, is a day of gathering in from across the earth, and of God’s activity in all the earth. To begin with, the Eleven have gathered ‘all together in place’ when the Holy Spirit comes ‘from heaven [where the tower builders had aspired to go]’ It Spirit came ‘with a sound like a rush of violent wind.’ (2:1) And this fills the house where they are sitting. More notably, people were gathering in the city from all over the world which the tower-builders of Genesis eleven had been scattered across: ‘there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem.’ (2:5)

It’s the great reversal. Previously, we humankind have been dragged down, held captive, by the selfish desires and aspirations of others and ourselves. Now, through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, who personified living and dying for others rather than for self, a great reversal is taking place. Competing self-interests led to a Babel-babble of discordant voices, confusion and suffering across the world. Now, Peter, declares, in these new and last days, as promised, God is pouring out God’s own Spirit upon the whole world; people are filled with – inspired by – visions and dreams.

Now you don’t need me to tell you that, even after Pentecost, the world is not yet perfect. In fact, it seems still to be filled with people and groups of people who have aspirations that are all about their self-interest and using others as a means to achieve their goals. Maybe, sometimes, we ourselves act in that way. Yes, Pentecost is a moment of great reversal and that’s another way in which it’s like a heavenly D-Day; a pivotal moment that points towards a good ending but is not the end itself. There was, after all, still a lot of suffering and struggle still to take place in Western Europe after June1944 and before liberation was achieved.

In this between-times, then, between the Pentecost outpouring of the Holy Spirit and the reconciliation by God of all things at the end time, we still need all the help we can get in struggling with the continuing reality and impact of self-centred aspirations of others and ourselves. We need God’s presence, God’s guidance, God’s support; we need to have Jesus with us, by our side, encouraging us. And that is what Pentecost is about; a pouring out of God’s Spirit of Jesus on all the earth – including us – to advocate for us and to us, to help us, to counsel us into attitudes and actions of love, joy, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22, 23). For with the help of this Pentecost Spirit we can be anything God wants us to be.

Acts 2: 1-21, Babel, D-Day, Genesis 11: 1-9, pentecost

Celebrating St Columba’s Day

June 8, 2019 / admin / 2019, News

St Columba’s Day in 2019 fell on a Sunday, 9 June, and as it is also 70 years since the church chose the name of St Columba’s, it seemed an appropriate occasion to mark.

When the Northumberland Square and Howard Street Presbyterian Churches united in 1949, a new name was needed for the church, which continued to meet in the Northumberland Square premises. It was decided to adopt Columba, a 6th century Irish saint, who founded a monastery on the Scottish island of Iona, bringing the Gospel to northern Britain.

Our celebration weekend included an exhibition of the life of the saint and of our church, a quiz, an evening meal and ceilidh, a service of celebration and a buffet lunch.

st columba

Wearing our Jesus Spectacles

June 3, 2019 / admin / 2019, Sermons

A sermon preached by the Reverend Trevor Jamison at Saint Columba’s United Reformed Church, June 2nd 2019

Luke 24:44-50; Acts 1:1-11

How many of his here this evening use spectacles? A large majority. As John Bercow, Speaker of the House of Commons might say, “The eyes have it, the eyes have it”!

I’ve worn spectacles or contact lenses since I was ten years old. The fact that my older brother needed them from a similar age probably alerted my parents to the possibility that I would need them early in life. Once I started copying down my homework from the blackboard incorrectly week after week I was soon taken to the eye hospital, followed by the specialist doctor, who lived and worked from a large, posh house on Belfast’s very posh Malone Road. And everywhere I’ve lived since then I’ve been well acquainted with the local opticians. Since coming to North Shields I have already gone to Specsavers, thanks very much.

So, obviously, when I read my Bible I’m used to doing so through lenses. When you have to guess the top letter on the optician’s eye chart if you’re not wearing them, there’s not much option as far as that is concerned. Maybe it’s that experience, as one of life’s four-eyed, that makes it easier for me to recognise that we all read our Bibles through particular lenses, and tonight’s Gospel reading, Luke 24: 44-50, confirms that thought for me.

The risen Jesus meets together with the Eleven, and with others, on the same evening that he had met with two on the road to Emmaus. He invites them to touch his body to experience the physical aspect of his resurrection and confirms that by eating a piece of fish. Then, tonight’s Gospel passage tells us, he said to them, ‘These are my words which I spoke to you while I was still with you – that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets and the psalms must be fulfilled.’ (24:44) Contemporary Jewish understanding tended to classify the Hebrew Scriptures in terms of law, prophets and wisdom. Jesus referencing, Moses, the prophets and the psalms covers these categories; saying, in other words, “you can find me in all sort of places scripture”.

To some extent, this cannot have been news for his disciples, especially the ones who had accompanied him for the three years of his ministry, hearing what he taught, seeing the things that he did. Still, we’re told, ‘Jesus opened their minds to understand the scriptures.’ (24:45) That sounds terribly like what he did with the two disciples who had been travelling to Emmaus: ‘Oh, how foolish you are and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared … then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.’ (24:25, 27)

On the first Sunday evening service of this year’s Easter season – Easter Sunday evening – we were with Jesus and the disciples on the way to Emmaus. Now on this, the last Sunday evening service of the Easter season, with Pentecost Sunday coming next week, we are with the Jesus, the Eleven and some unnamed companions. The statement that Jesus makes before explaining the scriptures to the disciples on the way to Emmaus is pretty much the same one he makes to sum up his message after he explains the scriptures to his disciples in the evening: ‘Thus it is written that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all the nations, beginning in Jerusalem.’ (24:46-47)

‘Thus it is written that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all the nations, beginning in Jerusalem.’ I am confident that the great, great majority of Jews, both then and now, would respond to that statement with a hearty, “where on earth does it say all of that in our scriptures?” Yes, there are references to the Messiah. Yes, there are some passages about the sufferings of God’s servants. Yes, Jonah was in the belly of whale for three days and three nights. Yes, most of us believe that there is a resurrection of our bodies at the end. Yes, and also at the end, the other nations are pictured coming to Jerusalem. But there’s no place in scripture where ‘it is written that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all the nations, beginning in Jerusalem.’ We just can’t see it.

And they are right. You can’t see that or read that in the Hebrew Scriptures – the Old Testament as we Christians call it – unless you are already wearing your Jesus spectacles. I never lose my spectacles. The moment they are not in front of my eyes I am completely aware they have gone. First thing in the morning I open my eyes. Next, I open my spectacles case. There was one occasion, some years ago when I woke up in the morning, opened my eyes, and for the briefest of moments thought that my vision had been miraculously healed because everything was in focus. Then I realised I had forgotten to take out my contact lenses before going to sleep the previous night!

We are always wearing our Jesus spectacles when we read the Bible. That is equally true when we read the Old Testament, but it’s also then we are most prone to forget that we have them on. Sometimes, some of us Christians try to prove to others what we believe about Jesus by saying that the Old Testament foretold him and all that was important about him. Then we get disappointed because the person we are trying to persuade looks at us like we are half-mad, because as far as they are concerned those Old Testament passages mean no such thing. The thing is, we are wearing our Jesus spectacles when we read such verses and they are not wearing theirs; they may not actually have a set, even though Jesus spectacles are free and available to all.

When we turn back to our Gospel passage we see that Jesus was interpreting scripture in this way to those who had already met him. They knew Jesus, they had seen and heard him, they had just touched him; and Jesus was inviting them to re-read the scriptures in the light of that experience. They were, so to speak, being issued with Jesus spectacles in order to read the scriptures. And it was then, as it says in Luke’s Gospel, that ‘he opened their minds to understand the scriptures.’ (24:45)

So how does that work today? How are people to have a meeting with Jesus that then equips them to read the scriptures through Jesus spectacles? As the last few verses of Luke’s Gospel, and as the early verses of his Book of Acts tell us, Jesus is no longer available in the same way as he was for the first disciples. He has “ascended”, gone into heaven. He has stepped out of this world and into another place where God is truly present; he is now in some different “dimension” that is beyond our current understanding: ‘for now we see in a mirror dimly,’ says Saint Paul, ‘but then we will see face to face.’ (1 Cor.13:12)

In such circumstances how can anyone meet Jesus as the required first step to understanding scripture? Initially, that sounds impossible, but a few moments thought reveal that this can’t be impossible. After all, in the centuries since Christ’s “ascension”, millions and millions of people have encountered Jesus in ways that make them turn to him as the means by which they will interpret the whole of their lives, including how they understand what they read in the scriptures, both Old and New Testaments. How does this happen? Where, when and why did they discover and put on their Jesus spectacles?

Well, think about how it has worked for you, for people that you know or have known. Why did you or they start understanding all of scripture from the perspective of knowing Jesus; why did you start reading it through Jesus spectacles? Well, obviously, the bibles stories themselves played a part; the ones that tell us about Jesus. But lots of people manage to read these stories or hear these stories without ever making Jesus the lens through which they read the scriptures and view the whole of reality. I can think of a couple of ways in which this happens.

First, you start reading the Bible stories, the scriptures, through Jesus spectacles when you meet Jesus, or see Jesus, through the impact he has had upon the lives of others. The great, great majority of us did not first meet up with Jesus through stumbling across a copy of the Bible in the street; someone introduced him to us, told us the stories, provided explanations. And importantly, the truth of the explanations was backed up by our observation that Jesus was alive and working in their lives. This then led us read the scriptures in a new way, a Jesus-focused way; through Jesus spectacles.

Second, having been introduced by others to Jesus through the scriptures, and having seen Jesus alive in them, as we took to reading scripture for ourselves, sometimes we had a direct meeting with Jesus. This can be difficult to describe or to pin down; different people will describe it differently. Such meetings can be described something like this: “As I was reading the Bible passage it felt as though I was in the presence of something or someone who was telling me that what I was reading was as true as anything could be in the world. And I felt that this person or presence was as trustworthy as anyone or anything could be in this world. And from now on I would be reading the Bible from the point of view that Jesus was the truth by which all of it would be measured.”

What on earth is all of this about? Well, last Tuesday evening, here at church, we had the first of our two Prepared for Pentecost meetings, and the eighteen of us were talking about meeting God in others and in different situations. In conversation we shared about experiences of revelation and guidance; about feelings of a presence or a voice speaking to us. We were talking, of course, about our experiences of encountering the Holy Spirit; which is, when it comes down to it, about being able to meet with Jesus in the here and now – the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Jesus Christ, after all.

I think that’s why, in Luke’s Gospel, after Jesus has opened the minds of the disciples to the content and significance of scripture, as understood when seen through Jesus, he then tells them that before they can become witnesses to these things, something else must happen: ‘And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.’ (24:48) Acts 1:5, as part of Luke’s retelling of this meeting between Jesus and the disciples, puts it more directly: ‘you will be baptised with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.’

So now, living in the world without the incarnate Jesus who has ascended, if we are to meet him and experience him as the basis for how we read all of scriptures and live our lives; if we are to put on our Jesus spectacles, then we discover that what we need are also “Holy Spirit specs”. And for that, now we turn our eyes towards Pentecost, and the coming of God’s ‘power from on high’.

Acts 1: 1-11, Ascension, Luke 24: 44-50

Staying Hopeful

June 3, 2019 / admin / 2019, Sermons

A sermon preached by the Reverend Trevor Jamison at Saint Columba’s United Reformed Church, June 2nd 2019

Acts 16: 25-40; Philippians 3: 2-16

‘About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them’ (16:25) Well, if they were all chained up, and, if like Paul and Silas, they also had their feet fastened in stocks, I don’t suppose they had much choice about listening to this duo, lustily singing hymns at a time of night when any right-thinking person would be trying to get some sleep. For some unaccountable reason, Luke does not record for the benefit of church audiences the content of any of the encouraging comments made by these sleep-deprived fellow-prisoners.

A small part of me wonders which hymns they were singing. If Paul and Silas were Charles Wesley fans then surely they must have included And Can it Be – my chains fell off, my heart was free, I rose, went forth, and followed thee. My larger concern, however, is with why they were singing at all.

They don’t seem to have a lot to sing about. Having deprived her owners of the services of a fortune-telling slave girl, Paul and Silas had been dragged before a hastily convened, possibly irregular, local court, been given a severe flogging, and then deposited in the securest cell that a Philippian prison could provide.

Today, we, very properly, worry about conditions in our prisons. I suspect things were worse in a Roman-administered jail in first century Philippi.

Most people would be discouraged to receive such a reception and treatment, but here are Paul and Silas, singing their hearts out, seemingly without worry or thought, either for their circumstances or for their neighbours. So, although a smaller part of me wonders which hymns they were singing a much larger part wants to know why they were singing in such circumstances. If I can figure that out, then it might come in handy for the times when circumstances are against me and when I might lose hope.

It’s notable that Paul did not lose hope, given that he had lost so many other things. He lost his dignity when he and Silas were stripped of their clothes before being publicly beaten; no small matter at any time, but something huge in a society bound together by notions of giving, receiving and losing honour. He had lost his physical freedom; his freedom of movement curtailed by physical injury after a beating, and further constrained by shackles and stocks. His status as a Roman citizen, which should have protected him from summary punishment and offered him judicial due process, had been disregarded.

All of this came on top of losing the high status he had previously enjoyed within the Jewish community; status which Paul had given up by following Jesus. As he subsequently wrote to the Christians in Philippi, ‘If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh, I have more; circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.’ (3:4-6)

This, Paul was prepared to put aside. Also he was ready to risk his Roman citizenship for the sake of (what he calls in his letter) ‘the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.’ (3:14) As far as Paul is concerned, all these marks of status he had previously enjoyed were like items that used to be on the positive side of a financial ledger which had now been moved into the negative column: ‘whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.’ (3:8)

Now, I have not experienced anything like the losses Paul and Silas experienced in Philippi in my pursuit of knowing Christ Jesus as my Lord. Being a Christian in early twenty-first century North Shields is a much less frightening prospect than being a follower of Jesus in first-century Philippi. And it’s much safer than being one of his followers in several places elsewhere in today’s world.

As I may have told you previously, on one occasion in the 1990s, I was delivering “welcome to your new home” cards on behalf of a Churches Together Group in Liverpool, to houses in a small, newly built estate. The owner of one house, enraged by my unexpected churchly presence on his doorstep, pursued the local Catholic priest and me back down his path, accompanied by much shouting and by his threatening-looking, loudly growling dog. Had they been there to witness it, Paul and Silas’ fellow prisoners might have got some new ideas for vocabulary to direct at the two hymn singers.

Maybe it is something about visitors to your door that brings out the best in people. My experience over a number of years is that door-to-door collecting for Christian Aid Week has become an increasingly challenging business, with a rising number of blunt refusals – “we give to our own” being one of the more puzzling I’ve received. This year’s “I give to my own charity” made me wonder about setting up the Trevor Jamison Foundation – all donations welcome. Still, unlike Paul, and in contrast to countless Christians ever since, I’ve never really had to fear for my physical safety or for my life whilst working or witnessing for the gospel of Jesus Christ.

This is not to say that there are never times when I am in danger of losing hope. Many of us know what it is to face opposition when we voice an opinion or take an action that runs against the grain of how most people see things. Think of those, for example, who over many years campaigned, and those who still have to campaign, for their Church to ordain women as well as men as ministers, pastors or priests, often in the face of opposition and even abuse. Or consider some of the negative reactions when others speak up for full inclusion of LGTBQI folk in the life of their churches, communities or society.

My previous role as Environmental Chaplain for Eco-Congregation Scotland was relatively uncontroversial, or so I thought. Yet attempting to persuade not only every Scottish church but the entire Scottish nation to care for God’s creation today and in the future involved times of discouragement. Faced with those who think that care for God’s creation is an optional extra in the Christian life; meeting those who tell you that they prefer to put their efforts into sharing the “real gospel” instead, there were times when I got discouraged. But Paul won’t let you do that. So, if you have had discouraging responses to your attempts to apply the gospel of Jesus Christ in a practical, everyday setting, Paul might have something to share with you too.

If Paul was writing a letter to me to jolt me out of my gloomy, pessimistic outlook, I think he would tell me to keep in mind the big picture of the God of creation and the specific hope that gives Christians hope.

Saint Paul, who was beaten up (more than once), imprisoned (more than once); now writing from prison and in chains (1:13-14) to the Christians in the town where they once saw him imprisoned and in chains, writes about pressing ‘on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus’. (3:14) Whilst worried that his Philippian friends might be endangered by enemies who he refers to as ‘dogs’ and ‘evil workers’ (3:2); whilst looking back on his previous high status within the Jewish community (3:4-6); whilst considering all his various losses because of his ‘faith in Christ’ (3:9), Paul keeps in mind that it is a ‘call of God in Christ Jesus’ (3:14) that should be his focus.

In other words, your or my situation, whatever that might be, is not all that there is to reality. This situation that you or I face is something located within a bigger context: creation, over which, through which, in which God is at work. I think that that’s an insight, an experience, a perspective, that we Christians share with some other faiths; this sense of something beyond ourselves which reassures, comforts and empowers us to carry on working for good and right; to do so even in circumstances where we can’t yet see things getting better.

So, a spiritual sense of being part of something bigger comforts us and equips us to live life to the full, even when circumstances constrain or shackle us. Additionally, there is a more specifically Christian hope that Paul shares with believers in Philippi, and so with us today: struggles undertaken, and sufferings experienced as a result of intentionally trying to do God’s will in and for the world have value because they are in solidarity with the struggles and suffering of Jesus Christ. As Paul puts it, ‘I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.’ (3:10-11)

So Christian Aid collectors who risk a rude response, Christians who persist in saying that God calls all sorts of God’s people to positions of leadership in God’s Church; those who continue to speak for fair and equal treatment of all in society, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, belief , life situation or whatever; even those of us who question the legitimacy of a fossil-fuelled lifestyle in God’s world today; all of them and all of us are, Paul suggests, being Christ-like; even God-like!

Also hope does not flow just from the realisation that our difficulties are a sharing Christ’s sufferings. Not only does Paul say, ‘I want to know Christ and … and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death,’ but he also says, ‘I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection … if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.’

God works in the world for the sake of the world, part of God’s creation. God has worked in the world in Jesus Christ. Paul retains hope because he is intentionally following in the steps of Jesus Christ, whose situation was so hopeless that it led to his suffering and death. But God has chosen to work in the world through Jesus Christ, not only through his death but also through his resurrection: ‘I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection’, says Paul.

The Christian Aid collector, the Christian campaigners for fair treatment for all, and Christians calling for us to live well on God’s planet, not only have the comfort of being in solidarity with Jesus, and so with God, but also the confident hope that God’s love and life triumphs over present challenges and difficulties. Ultimately, their hope – our hope – resides in believing that our actions form part of a bigger, divine crucifixion-and-resurrection story where the whole of creation is reconciled to God by the love of God.

It’s upon this basis that we have hope and that Paul says, ‘Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own, but this one thing I do; forgetting what lies behind and straining towards what lies ahead, I press on towards the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.’ (3:13-14) May God grant us the chance to join Paul on this quest. Amen.

Acts 16: 25-40, hope, Philippians 3: 2-16

The Vision Thing

May 27, 2019 / admin / 2019, Sermons

A Sermon Preached by the Reverend Trevor Jamison at Saint Columba’s United Reformed Church, 26th May 2019

John 14:25-29; Acts 16:9-15

It’s the vision thing! We are in dire need of the vision thing.

‘During the night Paul had a vision.’ (16:9) Wasn’t he the lucky one. O, that we could all be like Saint Paul, at least in terms of receiving a helpful vision when we need one. Following a frustrating period, when wherever Paul and his travelling companions tried to go in order to spread the gospel, it seemed to be the wrong place, Paul then had a vision.

And this vision of ‘a man of Macedonia pleading with him and saying, Come over to Macedonia and help us”.’ (16:9) was just what was needed. Now the way ahead was clear; a hop, skip and a jump by boat, from Troas to Samothrace; then a landing at Neapolis, with Paul finally setting foot in Europe. From there, it was a stiff climb up the hill from the port to join the Via Egnatia, and a stroll down that Roman road, to the premier city of the region: Philippi. Would that it was so straightforward for us today to be in Europe, as it seems to have been for Paul.

Jesus, we are told in John’s Gospel, promised the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, who, he said, ‘will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.’ (14:26) Oh that God’s Holy Spirit, this Advocate, given to us in Christ’s name (14:26), would provide us with as clear a vision as Paul received during that night he spent in Troas so long ago. If only the Advocate would teach us as a church how to view the present, to see into the future, and to know how to make all of the right decisions. Yes, we really need this vision thing.

Now, of course, we’re considering complex situations here. This is not just a question about which place to visit next on a missionary journey. It’s not so simple as to be solved and resolved for us by a vision in the night. That’s little surprise, for, as we all know, things are seldom so simple. That’s certainly true about the complex challenges facing us as a church today. It’s not to say that Jesus was telling fibs to comfort worried disciples; this Advocate, God’s – Christ’s – Holy Spirit is promised to us, and, I believe, is available to us, but it takes a bit of work to hear what’s being said.

And it’s not easy to see God’s vision when the future seems set anyway. It’s not easy to see God’s vision when there are competing visions about the future, or when what had seemed to be visions turn out to be false starts.

I may have said before that one of my favourite sayings is, “the future is uncertain, best eat dessert first.” In this country, though, with regard to the church in general and perhaps the United Reformed Church in particular, the future seems set. We are in decline. I am talking about numbers here, about decline in the quantity of Christians, not decline in the quality. Don’t be fooled into thinking that those who preceded us in the faith in this church were spiritual giants besides which we are pygmies, just because there were more of them. We are all Jesus’s disciples, doing our best, but in different circumstances.

And this numerical decline has been around for a very long time now. Despite a good run in the early years of that century, from the middle of the nineteenth century, Christian churches in England, although they continued to grow in numbers, did so at a slower pace than the rise of population. From the mid twentieth century, if not before, churches in Western Europe have been shrinking in numbers. The congregation in which I grew up is smaller now than it was when I was a child. I’d guess that the same is true for most or all of the churches in which any of you grew up. This decline has been partially masked for this congregation by a series of mergers that have refreshed the numbers every so often, but there’s no prospect of that happening again any time soon. It looks like it’s downhill all the way, so how do you have a vision for the future when the future seems set?

And how do you collectively have a vision when there are strong competing visions about where to go next? Our political class, for example, has come in for a load of flak over Brexit, or the lack of it, but’s it’s hard to deliver, or not, when there are strong competing visions. And I don’t just mean opinions but visions for our nation.

One vision sees a Britain characterised by co-operation with its closer neighbouring nations, in pursuit of peace and prosperity, leading it to increasingly close relationships with them. Those who hold to this vision are prepared to set aside some aspects of our traditional national identity in pursuit of a greater good. The alternative vision celebrates all that is good in being a distinctive, free and independent nation, actively seeking good relationships with other, equally free and distinctive peoples throughout the world, but not allowing some of our near neighbours to constrain Britain from living out all of the best qualities that are reflected in our particular history and culture; not allowing them to decide upon the life to which we aspire.

And there are different visions of what it means to be Church in our twenty first century situation. Here are a couple. One vision says, everything in society around us is changing. In such a situation the Church needs to be constantly changing as well, so that it can most effectively share the Christian good news: becoming all things to all people so that at least some can be saved. (1 Cor. 9:22) An alternative vision also says, everything in society around us is changing, so in such a situation the Church must remain unchanging; a beacon of consistency in the midst of life’s contradictions, thus proclaiming the Christian good news about an unchanging God’s unchanging love: Jesus the same, yesterday, today and forever! (Heb. 13:8)

Now I have my views and preferences concerning these alternative visions, both the political ones and the religious ones. And today, I’m happy to to tell you all what these are … if you come and see me for conversation after the service. But, whatever vision I hold, be it political or religious, I will not begin to appreciate the reality of the overall situation unless I make the imaginative leap of contemplating these other visions in the best form in which they are understood by those who hold them.

Those who call for change in church are not hostages to the spirit of the age, they are seeking to share the gospel in relevant ways. Those who call for the Church to stand fast are not mindless stuck-in-the-muds, betraying the gospel, but are trying to make sure we do not change or misdescribe the gospel itself.

I wonder then, where does the scenario set out in Acts 16 fit in with such visions? On their first sabbath day in Philippi, Paul and his companions went looking for the nearest thing they could find to Jewish worship. It was taking place outside the city gates, presumably because worship inside the gates was limited to the gods acceptable in a Macedonian city, which still had the reputation and bore the stamp of having been re-founded as a Roman colony. It was an informal prayer gathering, presumably because the minimum of ten Jewish men required to form a synagogue were not resident in Philippi.

Lydia, a reasonably well-off businesswoman (she dealt in luxury goods, after all, and was head of a household, which would have included workers, servants or slaves). She was not even Jewish herself but was a god-fearer; one of those who attended Jewish worship because they were drawn to the idea of one God who demanded a distinctive ethical lifestyle. There was a conversation, where she listened eagerly, was baptised, and she then invited Paul and his companions to stay with her (which was a socially daring).

In this scenario, a movement, like ours, looking to share its message and increase its numbers might take notice of the following:

• The fertile ground for conversation was a little bit outside society’s mainstream

• Those who wanted to have the conversation went to those with whom they wished to speak, rather than expecting the others to come to them

• They had experience and beliefs they wanted to share

• There were people sitting just on the edge of “traditional organised religion” who were open to having spiritual conversations

• They talked about God and Jesus, not the weather

• There was an action (baptism) by which a change of belief could publicly be marked

• The one who had just joined the movement was the one who then brought others into the movement (her household)

What sort of vision might that give us for today’s Church in today’s situation?

• A vision of a Church that is not too socially respectable, especially where respectability can substitute for faith in Jesus Christ as Saviour and Lord. This era of marginalisation of the Church, leading to decreased numbers might turn out not be an entirely bad thing in the end.

• Coming to people rather than expecting them to come us suggests a Church that is clever with its use of its buildings; looking to give real opportunities for those who enter the building to have a spiritual conversation; making sure to include going out of the building to meet with others a component of our church life and witness

• A church where members are encouraged to re-visit, re-experience, and re-rehearse their faith on a regular basis so that we feel more confident to say something to and share with others

• So, a church where we find the courage to talk with others about spiritual issues. By the way being fully prepared before starting to do this is a bit like saying we will learn to ride a bike by only getting on it once we have totally mastered the theory – we learn by doing.

• A church that offers spiritually inspired activities as well as words

• A church that respects those who joined more recently and/or those on the edge of congregational life, in part because they are often the ones with most potential to draw others into its life

So, a possible vision for a church for today: socially slightly off-centre, spiritual conversationalists, resourced by but not serving a building, knowing what we believe, braver about talking about it, putting the spiritual into activity, and being porous at our edges. What do you make of a vision like that? Discuss!

Acts 16: 9-15, John 14: 25-29, vision

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