Couldn't Help Noticing

Thankfulness

I used to think that the first thing that disappeared from a distinctively Christian life under pressure was prayerfulness. But it's not.

Like Israel in the wilderness hardening their hearts, the first thing to disappear is not prayerfulness but hope, followed by faith and then love. The disappearance of these three great Christian characteristics is first evidenced outwardly by thanklessness.

Israel in the wilderness (as recorded in the Exodus story) still made their desires known: “More food! More water! More meat! Better leadership!” (They sound a lot like Australians in the lead-up to an election campaign!) The Israelites made their desires known in an indirect way, addressing Moses and not God the way complaining people often do. But most of all, they did it with a singular lack of thankfulness for the extraordinary grace and goodness of God.

It's the same with me and a lot of other people I see experiencing suffering. They don't stop praying—well, not at first. Their prayers, in fact, become more urgent and more desperate, even to the point of bargaining with God—like the proverbial drowning man who cries out for rescue and promises to serve God forever if he will only save them. They pray because others around them are praying. They pray because it is a part of their routine.

But the idea of being content with God and his good gifts is as far from them as the east is from the west. Even the suggestion that they should be thankful is met with bitterness and incredulity. It's understandable, of course; I have done it myself and will do it again. But I don't think it's very good.

Psalm 95 reflects on Israel complaining in the wilderness in a way which illuminates something about our own complaining and thankfulness:

Oh come, let us sing to the Lord;
    let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation!
Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving;
    let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise!
For the Lord is a great God,
    and a great King above all gods.
In his hand are the depths of the earth;
    the heights of the mountains are his also.
The sea is his, for he made it,
    and his hands formed the dry land.

Oh come, let us worship and bow down;
    let us kneel before the Lord, our Maker!
For he is our God,
    and we are the people of his pasture,
    and the sheep of his hand.
Today, if you hear his voice,
    do not harden your hearts, as at Meribah,
    as on the day at Massah in the wilderness,
when your fathers put me to the test
    and put me to the proof, though they had seen my work.
For forty years I loathed that generation
    and said, “They are a people who go astray in their heart,
    and they have not known my ways.”
Therefore I swore in my wrath,
    “They shall not enter my rest.”

(Psalm 95)

What is slightly frightening here is the note of final judgement. (Well, it's very frightening, actually!) Complaining is not a theologically neutral activity but one which a gracious God will call us to account for—if, as we complain, we slander his character. Thankfulness and the lack of thankfulness take us above the mundane and into the eternal, for better or for worse.

Bible study kick-off.

I caught up with some old friends and a great group of Bible study leaders at St Luke's Miranda last night. Various Garlatos were there (hi Amanda and Ben!), and young Stephen Gibson, the minister (he went to school with me, so he must be young).

It was their regular term Bible study kick-off, and I led them through an introduction to the studies on early Genesis that I've written (you can download study 1 for free as a PDF).

As well as this once a term kick-off (which is a terrific idea, by the way, and which a number of churches are in the habit of doing), the Bible study leaders also meet weekly for preparation. I can't think of a better way of keeping in touch with leaders and communicating to them how important their work is to the life of the church, while at the same time strengthening both the quality of Bible studies and fellowship in God's word.

If any churches in Sydney want to use a Matthias Media product for their Bible study groups, I am happy to come and meet with leaders to talk about the studies as our mutual timetables allow. Just make contact via this website.

Biblical or pragmatic? Do we have to choose?

Funny how ideas get a life of their own. My tongue-in-cheek CHN about a ‘college of the yarts' has been sparking conversation in a couple of places about principle and pragmatism (such as in this column by John Sandeman).

This wasn't really the main issue I was thinking about when I penned my little satire; I was more interested in current attitudes to music and the arts in ministry, as opposed to other cultural endeavours. But it's been fascinating to see how the piece has been read and responded to. And there's no doubt that the old question of principle and pragmatism is looming there in the background. Is the push for an arts college driven by theological principle or ministry-minded pragmatics, or a bit of both? And how do we decide what constitutes a ‘biblical’ approach?

I wrote a longish essay about this several years ago in The Briefing called ‘Being biblical or doing what works: do we have to choose?’. For those who are interested in thinking further about ‘being biblical’ and ‘being pragmatic’, and how the two relate to each other, you may find it worth a read. (The essay has recently been added to our new online Briefing library: view Part I and Part II.)

Anglican inaction = action

Just what is happening with the worldwide Anglican communion at the moment? Is something happening? Or is nothing happening? Or is the nothing actually something?

These are the perplexing questions observers have been asking following the recent response of the American Anglicans (officially known as The Episcopal Church) to the demands of the rest of the Anglican world that they turn back from ordaining gay bishops and blessing same-sex unions. Their carefully crafted response, released in late September, has been read by some as at least a slight concession, and by others as yet another exercise in episcopal weasel words.

Sydney Archbishop Peter Jensen's analysis of the situation is well worth a read. His point is that whether or not the New Orleans statement is deemed to have sufficiently met the requirements put forward by the rest of the Anglican Communion barely matters. The decisive actions have already been taken:

The key defining moment on the liberal side was the consecration of Bishop Robinson of New Hampshire [in 2003]. At first it was hoped that this was a mere aberration, that it could be dealt with by returning to where we were. In fact it was a permanent action with permanent consequences. It truly expressed the heart-felt views of the greater part of the leadership of the American Episcopal Church. The only way in which steps can be retraced is by repudiating the action itself, a development impossible to contemplate. That was the year of decision for the American church, and the decision was made in the clear light of day. They knew what they were doing.

The American House of Bishops has now responded to the Primates. Many have seen in their pronouncements sufficient conformity to the request of the Primates to enable the Communion to continue on its way. I do not read their statement like that. I think that they have failed to meet the hopes of the Primates. But the significance of the document at this level hardly matters. The document taken as a whole makes the real issue abundantly clear. Sexual rights are gospel.

Peter's perfectly valid point is that there are really two gospels in operation, and this has been the case for some time. This can be neither denied nor easily remedied. Thus, the worldwide Anglican Communion is already no longer a ‘communion’ in the Christian or gospel sense. We need to stop thinking that the situation is otherwise, or that there is any real prospect of this changing.

Peter's brother Phillip has made a similar point in his regular ‘From the Dean’ column:

To repent is to act. To be unrepentant is a state. Repentance is something that we do. ‘Unrepentance’ is not doing something. It is what does not happen—it is what you are when you do not repent.

Such is the state of international Anglicanism. The challenge for biblical, orthodox Anglicans is not to work out whether the Communion can be ‘saved’. That time has passed. The challenge now is to work out practical, workable ways to encourage, resource and support each other as we proclaim the gospel to a needy world.

The gospel in letters

Grace comes for nothing

How do you know if you have done enough good deeds in order to be acceptable to God? This is the dilemma of everyone whose religion has no concept of free forgiveness. Mother Teresa's religious doubt and spiritual emptiness was as understandable as it was tragic (‘To doubt God is human, and to hell with convention,’ September 13). If only she had read her Bible she would have seen that grace is a gift, not something that one earns.

Joshua Bovis, Lambton

What I love most about this letter to the editor (The Sydney Morning Herald 14 September 2007) is not so much the letter itself (great as it is), but the (presumably pagan) subeditor's heading: “Grace comes for nothing”. The subeditor has understood what grace means! That is an extraordinary victory for Christian thought in a society which cares nothing for God.

Well done, Josh! Keep writing. We need persistent, faithful newspaper correspondents. I've just been re-reading Jim Packer on the Puritans, and his well-researched view is that spiritual revival in the 17th century (which was just as real as its 18th-century counterpart, though less well-publicized) was, under God, due to Puritan writing.

It deliberately dumbed-down writing, too. These guys worked overtime to tell the gospel straight, without clever allusion and witty sesquipedalian flourishes. JC Ryle later called it “crucifying your style”.