Some people go about their lives like the CEO of a huge multinational company, their every interaction with others carried out as it were some kind of business deal – one for which they seek to broker terms that are favourable only to themselves.
And so the offers of help that they sometimes make, always come with conditions that ensure that they will be the ones who benefit the most – be it the guarantee of some future financial reward, the forever indebtedness of the one being assisted, or the warm glow of self satisfaction that comes as others look favourably on at their, always very public, displays of apparent benevolence.
Even on their wedding day, their marriage vows are likely to be made in the context of a prenuptial agreement that has already been signed, one designed to protect their own interests should things ever turn sour – which they almost inevitably will, given such an obvious lack of commitment to the relationship, even from its very beginning.
There is nothing big or beautiful about such behaviour. On the contrary, imagining themselves to be smart, these people come across only as scheming and self serving.
Furthermore it is not how those, saying how it is in God that they trust, ought to behave. Because those who claim to follow Jesus should follow the example of him who having taught us that we should give without expecting anything in return, went on to show us what that looks like when, despite our having nothing to offer him in return, he did everything that was required for us to be saved – including dying for us on a cross.
But the proud resent being the recipients of such amazing grace, preferring instead to earn their way to heaven, albeit whilst manipulating the terms of that agreement so as to minimise the investment necessary to achieve such favourable returns.
Such was the attitude of the lawyer who one day asked Jesus what he needed to do in order to inherit eternal life. Which is an odd question for him to have posed, given how he, more than most. should have known that, rather than having to be earned, an inheritance is something that is bestowed on you by someone who has died.
But leaving that to one side, Jesus encouraged the man to answer his own question. Which he did, by rightly summarising how the law requires us to love God with all our heart, soul, strength and mind – and our neighbours as ourselves.
But it was then that the lawyer sought to negotiate more favourable terms for himself, by limiting what the command to love one’s neighbour actually meant. That’s why he asked Jesus to give his definition of what a ‘neighbour’ was, in the hope that those making up that particular group of people would be so reduced in number that loving them might become somewhat more manageable.
But if that was what the lawyer had hoped for, he was to be sorely disappointed. Because, in telling the parable of the Good Samaritan who came to the rescue of a man who had fallen among robbers, Jesus makes it plain that to love your neighbour means not only meeting your enemy’s every need, irrespective of what the cost to you might be, but to do so with genuine, heartfelt compassion. Which is not something that the lawyer had ever done.
And neither, need I point out, have any of us.
Which is why, if we are going to one day make it to heaven, we had better all hope that there is a way other than having to merit our own place there.
But the good news is that there is indeed another way.
Because whilst we might think that nobody has ever loved the way the Good Samaritan did, I know that there is in fact one who loved me like that.
The one who saw me lying spiritually dead – ravaged by sin and guilt. The one who tended my wounds and led me to a place of shelter. The one who paid the price for all my restoration.
There is then one who shows me mercy. And his name is Jesus. And what he did for me he did, despite my being a sinner and hostile to the one who I was created by.
Furthermore, he did it, not out of duty, but out of love.
In very many ways then the parable of the Good Samaritan is a parable about Jesus.
Because Jesus is the Good Samaritan.
So whilst continuing, of course, to try to live as virtuous a life as we possibly can, let’s not put our hope in our own good deeds to make us worthy of heaven. Because we will fail. Instead, let’s trust that Jesus’ death deals with God’s anger at our sin, and, what’s more, that his perfect life is one that God now graciously counts as having been lived by us.
Let’s accept, by faith, that offer of a lifetime. Because we do not inherit eternal life through our own efforts. Rather with receive it as a gift, one that is bestowed upon us by the one who died – both for us and in our place.
Some people go about their life like the CEO of a huge multinational company, and sone lay down their life for others. And I know with whom I would rather deal.
How, I wonder, about you?
To read ‘AN ADVENT CALENDAR COMPLETE’ – which includes 24 reflections on the Christmas Story, click here
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted – sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
To read ‘Why do bad things happen to good people? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Good Friday’, click here
To read ‘Foolishness – Law and Gospel’, click here
To read ‘A CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN – 2024 – COMPLETE’ – which includes 24 more seasonal reflections – this time on why Jesus came to Earth on that first Christmas Day’, click here.
Above is a representation of Hector, one that, since he doesn’t have any real intelligence of his own, was generated by AI. Superficially. I suppose, it is, a striking image – one that could even be considered impressive. But irrespective of how clever the technology is, it’s one that, for me at least, lacks heart.
The photo I sacrificed to ChatGPT in order for it to be produced was the one that I posted yesterday, alongside the so called poem I wrote for Hector’s birthday. After which, curious to see what it would come up with, I asked the same AI Chatbot if it could improve my own attempt at comic verse. Which, the bar not being particularly high, of course it did – seemingly with consummate ease, judging by the second or two it took to complete the task.
But even as it did so, it made me a little sad – not because I’d been shown up by a soulless computer programme, but rather because, written without affection, the ‘improved’ version was reduced to nothing more than a clever use of words – and an artificially clever use of words at that.
And therein lies the problem with AI – it is, as its name suggests, counterfeit and fake. And whilst AI may indeed be able to process data at incredible speeds, just as there are more to facts than raw data, and more to knowledge than simple facts, so too is there more to intelligence than a lot of knowledge, and more to wisdom than great intelligence.
Which is why, if we start to rely too heavily on AI, it’s not just the ensuing pseudo wisdom that we should be concerned about. More than that we should be concerned about what artificial intelligence will do to us.
Because, whilst the words offered up by AI will undoubtedly resonate with some who read them, since they don’t mean a thing to the piece of software that strung them together, those words cannot be anything other than meaningless.
And who wants to be moved by a misleading machine? Or a computer who couldn’t care less?
In recent years technology has created an increasingly contactless world – one in which a more remote existence is the experience of many. So then I wonder., having encouraged us to distance ourselves from those we live alongside, are we seeing technology now urging us to distance ourselves from our own thoughts and, in so doing, rendering us unable to either express or feel any real emotion at all.
I hope not, because that’s not what life is all about. I’m no more in need of a perfect Hector than I am a perfect poetic ability. Or, indeed, a perfect you.
On the contrary, the ability to deal with both our own, and each other’s, ‘necessary fallibility’, is part of what it is to be human.
And if as I do, we do want to be changed for the better, shouldn’t we want that to be by an encounter with something, or someone, who is real? Which is why, no more wishing to faultlessly fool my fellows, than I desire to be meticulously misled myself, this will not just be the first post of mine that AI has had a hand in – because it will also be the last.
Related posts:
To read ‘Machines – enough to drive you berserk’, click here.
He celebrates a birthday, Today he’s two years old, That big, black, beast called Hector, Who won’t do what he’s told. So will he now, I wonder, A grown up dog, play ball, Desist from doing what he does, And come each time I call.
Or will he still continue, As I suspect he might, To do the things he’s prone to, That cause him such delight? Consuming what he shouldn’t, And drooling ere he feeds, Whilst plotting as he does so, Dim dark disturbing deeds.
The gooseberries he’s gobbled, Rhubarb remains at risk, Like Pavlov’s dogs, he can’t resist, His reflexes are brisk. But in the scorching sunshine, This canine cat keeps cool, With jam packed gut he ruminates, On fruity, flavoured, fool.
A furry, fiendish fellow, He daily causes grief, Some ask me why I love him, It beggars their belief. But though he is a monster, With very little brain, His driving me around the bend, Is all that keeps me sane!
‘Cos as we walk together, Along life’s shady paths, Each day it’s surely safe to say, He brings me lots of laughs. So Happy Birthday Hector, You goofy, gorgeous, goon, I hope you have a smashing time, This twenty-eighth of June!
Imagine you were God, a good God – how do you think you would act?
Perhaps you would create a world, speaking it into existence in the way that only you could, one that reflected, not only your almighty power, but your inherent goodness too. Perhaps you’d inhabit that world with creatures that would enjoy both who you were and what you’d made, not because of any neediness in you, but because you understood that true happiness comes from admiring the truly admirable. And perhaps, recognising that right and wrong are objective, determined by what you yourself decree them to be, you’d insist on certain behaviours but, at the same time, be prepared, by humbling yourself, even to the point of death, to forgive transgressions in order to restore all that got broken and reconcile even those who rebelled against you.
But imagine now that you only thought you were God, but were in fact only a man – how do you think you would act then?
Perhaps you would strut around the world stage as if you owned the place when in fact it belonged to somebody else. Perhaps, desperate to be admired, you’d disparage others whilst surrounding yourself with those who told you how great you were, those who, somehow able to suspend their own disbelief, could buy into the lie you yourself persisted in propagating. Perhaps you’d make proclamations, believing, despite evidence to the contrary, that what you’d said was true simply because you’d spoken. And perhaps, having arrogantly promised to save the world, you’d lose your temper when it emerged you were not the self professed messiah you seemed to believe you were and people didn’t always do what you told them they should.
What a tragedy that would be – not only because of how foolish you would prove yourself to be, but because yours would be an ugly parody of what is, in fact, beautifully true.
We live in troubled times, when a cycle of ever more violent retaliation looks set to result in yet more heartache for those most affected by the violent actions of those who, though claiming to, neither represent them or have their best interests at heart.
And all this at a time when a great many of us are increasingly dissatisfied with our lives general.
Why might this be?
Hannah Arendt (1906-1975) was a German born philosopher best known for her book ‘The Human Condition’ (1958). In it, if I understand her correctly, she explains her view that the way out of living a meaningless life is to bring about change through our ability to act and thus create something new.
She distinguishes our ‘actions’ from our ‘labour’ and our ‘work’.
‘Labour’, to Arendt, is simply those activities of living by which we meet our biological needs – needs which, because they can only be temporarily met, always need to be repeated and thus in themselves, are not able to satisfy us at any more than the most superficial level.
‘Work’ she defines as that which we do within the world that imparts a ‘measure of permanence and durability upon the futility of mortal life and the fleeting character of human time’. ‘Work’ produces something abiding, and is of a higher level than ‘labour’ which merely perpetuates.
Our ‘actions’, however, are what she says really count. It is not so much ‘what’ we are that matters but ‘who‘ we are. And who we are is best revealed through our words and deeds – when we go beyond our inherent selfish survival instincts and ‘act’ to bring something new and unexpected into existence.
Two key behaviours that Arendt identifies as bringing about this change are those of forgiveness and the making and keeping of promises.
Forgiveness is the behaviour by which it is possible to nullify past actions, releasing others from what they have done and enabling them to change their minds and start again. ‘Forgiveness‘, she writes, ‘is the key to action and freedom‘ and ‘the only way to reverse the irreversible flow of history‘.
In contrast, our ability to make and keep promises marks us out as being able to make the future different from the past. ‘Promises are the uniquely human way of ordering the future, making it predictable and reliable to the extent that this is humanly possible‘.
Arendt believes that, to be fulfilled, we need to be able to act in ways that advance or better society as a whole.
And herein lies the clue as to why some of us may have lost satisfaction in our day to day lives.
Though we continue to seek happiness, so restricted have we become in public life, by the guidelines that we have to adhere to and the hoops through which we have to jump, that we have become like slaves who have no prospect of having genuine influence.
In Arendt’s terms, we can ‘labour’ and ‘work’ – but we cannot ‘act’.
Furthermore, having given up the prospect of doing something that might bring about real change and produce genuine benefit, we have retreated from the public sphere and been reduced to consumers who are content to amuse ourselves in private – with yet another bottle of prosecco, perhaps, and an evening spent bingeing on the latest Netflix TV series.
Arendt further suggests that ‘under conditions of tyranny, it is far easier to act than to think‘. Such then is the consequence of living in societies where conformity to a prescribed viewpoint is all that really matters. In such circumstances, we are prone to unquestioningly comply with what we are told we must do and, from fear of reprisal, anxiously seek to do so perfectly.
But, says Arendt, ‘In order to go on living one must try to escape the death involved in perfectionism‘. By giving up the hope of genuine autonomous action we have given up our hope of fulfilment and with it our hope of happiness.
Thoughtlessly striving for perfect compliance, we therefore die.
This links into another idea of Arendt – that whilst we can know much about the objective world, we fail to understand what lies beneath the surface – that which is most important.
By stereotyping those who belong to groups other than those we belong to ourselves, we make the mistake of only recognising the ways in which they are different to us with the result that we can all too easily form a falsely negative view of them and thus justify our harsh treatment of them. But if, instead of lazily contenting ourselves with knowing only ‘what’ such people are, we seek to ‘know’ them as the individuals they are, those who just like us, long to live peacefully and bring up their children in safety, we would find it a lot easier to look for better solutions to our mutual problems than that of going to war.
Instead then of resorting to long range missile attacks and bombing campaigns, we need to spend more time in close proximity to those we are prone to want to attack – not just to end the killing, but also, Arendt says, for the joy of seeing them reveal their true character.
Because failure to know our imagined enemy, not only diminishes them in our own minds, it also diminishes us as well.
But seeing ‘who’ our neighbour is becomes increasing difficult in our relentlessly busy lives characterised as they are by a million and one seemingly more important concerns that press in on us daily.
Finally then, what of ourselves. Arendt suggests that we may never really know who we are ourselves because that is something that can only really be observed by others, those who see us act in ways that we cannot see ourselves.
This is most true when we love – for love, she says, reveals ‘who’ we are like nothing else simply because it is unconcerned with the ‘what’ of the one we love. ‘Love, by reason of its passion, destroys the in-between which relates us to and separates us from others’
To regain our satisfaction with life, therefore, we need to change. We need to stop behaving in the way that we have all too often been encouraged and, rather than focus on how we sometimes differ with others, recognise instead how much we have in common.
In short we need to care better about one another. Rather than mercilessly punishing others for their past mistakes, we need to show a little grace, forgiving them for the hurt they cause and thereby give them the chance to start again.
Because that’s exactly how we need them to treat us too.
We all need to give peace a chance if we are to have any hope of beginning again and creating something new.
I believe people can change. But only in the presence if someone who believes that they can who also promises all the help and support they need to avoid remaining stuck as they are.
And though it’s true that we will need someone infinitely better able to do this than we can ourselves, someone who really does represent us and has our best interests at heart, we all nonetheless need to seek to act in considered, creative and unexpected ways for the good of others. For if we do, as well as making a real difference in the world in which we live, we will begin to restore our own satisfaction with life as well.
Rather than simply settling for what is expected of us, we need to think for ourselves, challenge the status quo, and tackle head on the problems that the world is currently facing.
Because to live is about more than merely complying whilst being mindlessly entertained. The provision of ‘bread and circuses‘ is not enough for us to be happy.
Rather, to truly live is to be somebody who acts and brings about the change, the new start, we all so hope for. The change we very much need if we are to do more than just keeping on keeping on.
Eleanor Oliphant, the eponymous hero in Gail Honeyman’s novel captures the sense of this well.
“I suppose one of the reasons we’re all able to exist for our allotted span in this green and blue vale of tears is that there is always, however remote it seems, the possibility of change”.
Related post.
To read ‘On not remotely caring’, which considers further the dangers of living at a distance can be found here
Today MPs will vote again on Kim Leadbeater’s Assisted Dying Bill. It’s an important debate that will rightly generate strong emotions since the matter being discussed is one that strikes at the heart of what it is to be human.
Opinions of course differ wildly, and I have dear friends who I know to be kind and considerate people who are in favour of assisted dying and hope that the bill will be passed. And I trust they will remain my friends irrespective of the outcome of today’s debate.
But as for me, I am opposed to the bill and have written previously why I hope that it won’t be passed. This is not only because of my religious beliefs but also because of what, being one myself, I believe regarding what it is to be human.
But one final thought – regarding what is sometimes called the slippery slope.
Some don’t consider the incline that we are currently standing atop to be all that precarious, confident that the passing of the bill will not lead to a situation when, over time, the conditions necessary for assisted dying to be permitted will lessen such that far more people will end their own life than was originally intended.
But history suggests otherwise.
Take the 1967 Abortion Act that legalised termination of pregnancy when two doctors agreed that the continuation of a pregnancy would pose a greater risk to the woman’s physical or mental health than if that pregnancy were terminated, or if there was a substantial risk that the child would be born with severe physical or mental abnormalities.
Because, as well as creating all manner of inconsistencies in the way we care for unborn children, the act has brought us to where we are today – a place where we have abortion on demand.
Throughout my thirty plus years working as a doctor, I never heard of a request for termination being turned down, and some years ago it made headlines that termination clinics were run with a stack of pre-signed forms approving termination – a state of affairs that suggests that individual cases are not being individually considered.
Little wonder then that in 2022, there were 251,377 abortions for women in England and Wales, the highest number since the Abortion Act was introduced.
So then, the slope was indeed slippery when it came to termination of pregnancy – can we really be sure it wont be any less slippery when it comes to assisted dying.
It’s my fervent hope that we never find out.
Related posts:
To read ‘Assisted Dying – we’ll need to be happier to help’, click here
To read ‘Assisted Dying in the light of the Cross’, click here
A firm foundation is important for everything in life.
And so it was that my grandson’s first experience of watching cricket was a session of a county championship game played at Taunton in 2023 – a day made special, not so much by the coronation of King Charles, but by Tom Kohler-Cadmore completing his maiden century for Somerset.
But that was two years ago and now, having got to grips with the complexities of the lbw law, learnt to appreciate the beauty of an expansive cover drive, and developed the necessary wisdom to be able to set a field for a slow left armer bowling to an right-handed batsmen in need of quick runs, it seemed the right time for the now three year old to be exposed to a shorter format of the game.
Even so, like the fun-loving illegitimate child born to one of more noble birth, T20 fixtures can be both wild and unpredictable affairs and, attending a game should not therefore be undertaken lightly.
Thorough preparation is therefore essential.
And so I taught him how, should a lone trumpeter cause a few plaintive notes to echo across the ground, in order to avoid the scorn of those around him, he ought to offer by up a Pavlovian cheer in response. I taught him how he should take cover if he should become the target of an unprovoked attack by those who saw fit to throw unwanted merchandise at him. And I taught him the vagaries of DLS just in case bad weather intervened and he was called upon to come up with a revised target for the team batting second.
And so the great day arrived, and together we made our way to the ground, my young companion carrying the vintage Somerset flag that I provided him with, my own cherished relic of a bygone season that, despite its poor quality and basic design, I’d somehow never got round to disposing of.
Before taking our seats we took a tour of the ground, hoping for an glimpse of Tom Banton – the wicket keeper/batsmen being a particular favourite with my grandson ever since he’d seen him hobble onto the field of play after last summer’s epic match against Surrey. Little wonder that earlier this season, when his hero scored that triple century, he named his cuddly toy monkey after the great man.
Though we didn’t spot him warming up, it turns out that wearing wicket keeping gloves makes you particularly salient and easy for even a three year old to spot. And so it was that throughout Kent’s innings I was repeatedly told of Tom’s whereabouts which was alway, you won’t be surprised to hear, behind the stumps where a wicket keeper is want to be.
Kent finished on 228-5, my grandson enjoying, a little too much for my liking, celebrating each boundary by waving one of those cards in order to indicate the exact number of runs scored. The other highlight of the Kent innings was, perhaps predictably, Tom Banton’s catch to remove Bell-Drummond for an excellent 100 from just 49 balls.
And yes he was caught behind!
Somerset started well in their innings, with much for all Banton fans to enjoy. Certainly his 68 from 33 balls, which included six sixes and five fours, made one little boy very happy.
The match ended well past my fellow supporter’s bedtime, with Somerset not quite able to get over the line, thus affording the opportunity for another important lesson to be learned – that cricket can be enjoyed even when your team loses.
But any disappointment that my grandson may have felt having seen Somerset defeated was more than compensated for when, now in his pyjamas and ready for the long drive home, he was able to meet his hero, get his autograph and tell him the name of his toy monkey!
And to be told by Tom that the next time he comes to a game, he should bring it with him so that the two can get acquainted!
Thank you Somerset CCC and Tom Banton. You gave one little boy a great day out this weekend.
Other blogs about formative cricketing experiences:
To read ‘Sharing the important things: on introducing your grandchild to cricket’, click here
To read ‘Cigarettes, Singles, and Sipping Tea with Ian Botham: Signs of a Well Spent Youth!’, click here
For this, a particularly frightening Father’s Day, a reworking of a previous blog…
A while back, as I was listening to a song by James Blunt, I found myself starting to cry.
Now this will come as no surprise to those who are less than appreciative of the creative efforts of the one time captain in the British Army – such folk will no doubt see my distress as nothing more than the inevitable consequence of experiencing the efforts of the aforementioned musician. Even so, the reason I was reduced to tears had nothing to do with the artistic merit, or lack thereof, of what it was I was hearing.
The particular song in question was ‘Monsters’. In it Blunt sings of how his father had once chased away the monsters that had existed in his son’s life, and of how his Dad needn’t be afraid that his life is seemingly drawing near to its end, because Blunt junior has now taken on the responsibility of chasing away any monsters that continue to prowl the environs of Blunt senior’s remaining years.
So why the moist eyes?
I think, in part, they began to spill over on account of the fact that my own dear father is now 94 years old and, though he remains reasonably fit and well, he is inevitably gradually drawing ever closer to his own death.
As indeed are we all.
For what is true for my Dad, is equally regrettably, true for you and me. Perhaps, for us, our time has not yet gone – but the day is surely coming when it will have.
But more specifically, my sadness reflected a realisation that, despite being a genuinely great Dad who has, over the years, lessened a great many of the fears I have myself experienced, he has, of course, been no more successful in chasing away all the monsters in my life as I myself have been successful in chasing away all those that have inhabited the lives of my own children and those of others whom I have loved or cared for, both inside and outside of work.
Life is at times a scary business and, as a former doctor I have, perhaps, seen more of those things that lurk in the shadows than some others.
I know that the world is full of protracted dementia and premature death, it’s full of cancer and congenital disease, it’s full of pain, paralysis, sickness and sorrow.
But what I’ve seen in my life pales into relative insignificance when compared with what is currently being experienced by far too many people in far too many parts of the world.
Because, as we are all too well aware this weekend, it’s a world that is far too full of war as well.
We live, then, in a sometimes confusing and confounding place, one that is both wild and unpredictable. And whilst, for a time, we may be able to cage some of the monsters we encounter, as with those great creatures of old, the Behemoth and Leviathan, we can never tame them fully.
That is as true today as it surely will be tomorrow.
Perhaps, in part, that’s the point of monsters. Perhaps we are meant to be terrified by these fearful creatures, at least for as long as it takes for us to appreciate that it will always be beyond our ability to domesticate them and thus, render as harmless, that which threatens us most. (See Job Chapters 40 and 41). Only then will we come to realise that our only hope lies, not in ourselves, but in the one who created what terrifies us, in the one who, as their creator, stands high above each of those dreadful dangers and who, more terrifying perhaps than they are themselves, sovereignly controls and constrains them such that their sphere of influence extends only as far as he decrees.
Because of our finite and, therefore, inherently limited minds, there is, of course, an unfathomable mystery to God that we will never completely understand, an infinite depth to his being that we will never fully plumb. But by faith we know that this fear inducing deity, is also a God of love. As C.S. Lewis helpfully reminds us, God is not safe, but he is good.
In the book that bears his name, Job, in his anguish at the devastating loss he has experienced, pours out his complaint to God. And when it is eventually answered, it is out of the whirlwind that God graciously speaks. [Job 38.1].
Whatever our current circumstances, however incomprehensible we may be finding what is happening to us today, God has promised that he will ultimately restore the fortunes of his children just as he restored Job’s. And when he does, it will be as a result of his loving kindness and his infinite goodness.
Though he may, in his mercy, first have cause to humble us, an experience which we may find to be deeply painful, having done so he will vindicate us, accepting us as righteous on account of the perfect life lived by Jesus.
And in the end, he will richly bless us, a consequence of who he is by nature – that is a compassionate God who invites us to take refuge in him. Then, just as those who, sheltering in a crevice of a rock can marvel at the frightening force of the storm, so we, safe in Christ, will be able to marvel at the fearful awesomeness of who God really is.
So who will protect you from the hooded claw, who will keep the vampires from your door?
Surely only the one who is sovereign over all that is evil – surely only the one who, though God, paradoxically ‘emptied himself by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men and, being found in human form, humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.’ [Philippians 2:7-8]
This is the power of the perfect love shown by the perfect and almighty God who is love. His is a love that chooses to suffer, a love that chooses to lay down it’s life, and a love that, in so doing, subverts evil, disarms it of its power, and defeats death itself.
My father may not have been able to chase away all the monsters in my life, but he has pointed me to the one who can, a Father who is greater than either of us could ever be.
God is the only perfect father – one whose son I am glad to be. And he is the one to whom I seek to point others, including my own children, because, since his is the only perfect love, and since ‘perfect love casts out fear’ [1 John 4:18], he alone is the one who can deal with all that frightens them, all that frightens me, and all that frightens those I love and care for.
Contrary though to the lyrics that James Blunt sings in his song, there is a need for forgiveness. But the good news is that, on account of Christ dying a substitutionary death in our place, our faultless Heavenly Father, who does indeed know all our mistakes, lovingly offers that forgiveness to all who will receive it.
If then, when our time is gone, we know his forgiveness, and if, as we close our eyes in sleep for that final time, we hear someone gently whisper ‘Don’t be afraid’, we will know, even then, that there really is nothing that we need fear.
For then, the monsters really will have all been chased away…forever.
For those unfamiliar with the song ‘Monsters’ – here’s a link to where you can listen to it. You can say what you think, I think it’s all right!
Related post:
To read ‘On NOT being afraid at Halloween’, click here
To read ‘At Halloween – O death where is your victory?’, click here
A county cricket supporter [CCS] enters a sports shop. Behind the counter is the chairman of the ECB [COE]
CCS: Hello, I wish to register a complaint.
COE: We’re closin’ for lunch.
CCS: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this ‘ere cricket competition what I’ve been following these last fifty years and for which you are responsible.
COE: Oh yes, the, uh, the County Championship…What’s, uh…What’s wrong with it?
CCS: I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it, my lad. It’s dead, that’s what’s wrong with it!
COE: No, no, it’s uh,…it’s coping extremely well as it adapts to the rapidly changing world of cricket.
CCS: Look, matey, I know a dead county championship when I see one, and I’m looking at one right now.
COE: No,no it’s not dead, it’s, it’s a vital part of the domestic season and coping extremely well! Remarkable competition the county championship, isn’t it? Beautifully structured corporate hospitality packages.
CCS: The structure of its corporate hospitality packages doesn’t enter into it. It’s stone dead.
COE: No, no, no, no, no! It’s an essential and highly valued part of the summer schedule.
CCS: All right then, if it’s highly valued, why are most of its games played at the outer fringes of the season; why are no games played in August when school children are free to attend; and why at the start of June, do some counties have only one more day this season scheduled to be played at the weekend? That is what I call a dead county championship.
COE: No, no…..No, it’s stunned!
CCS: STUNNED?!?
COE: Yeah! It’s just stunned. The county championship stuns easily.
CCS: Um…now look…now look, mate, I’ve definitely had enough of this. This county championship is definitely deceased, and when I suggested as much to you previously, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it being tired and shagged out because there was too much cricket being played. And then you added a new, and totally unnecessary, competition.
COE: Well, it’s…it’s ah…probably pining to play at Lord’s.
CCS: PINING to play at LORD’S?!?!?!? Pining more like for a decent schedule and a quality one day competition that does indeed have its final played at the home of cricket. Answer me this. Why is the much loved and hugely entertaining county championship treated as an irrelevance by those who are supposed to look after its interests?
COE: Well perhaps it’s because it doesn’t bring in much money. Even so, it’s a remarkable competition. Beautifully structured corporate hospitality packages!
CCS: Look, I have taken the liberty of examining the county championship and I have discovered that the only reason that it has remained on its perch for as long as it has, is because of those who, because of their great love for the counties, continue to turn up to games in order to follow the teams that mean so much to them.
(pause)
COE: Well, of course! Given how poorly we promote it, if it wasn’t for the efforts of those tedious supporters who demand it should be taken seriously, it would have disappeared long ago. That’s the thing with the county championship – It’s very vigorous!
CCS: VIGOROUS!? Mate, this county championship wouldn’t be vigorous it you put four million volts through it! It’s demised!
COE: NO,no! It’s pining!
CCS: It’s not pining! It’s passed on! This county championship is no more! It has ceased to be! It’s expired and gone to meet it’s maker! It’s a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If it wasn’t for its supporters it’d be pushing up the daisies! Its metabolic processes are now history! Its off the twig! It’s kicked the bucket, It’s shuffled off its mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-COUNTY CHAMPIONSHIP!
(pause)
COE: Well, I’d better replace it, then.
(He takes a quick peek behind the counter)
Sorry squire, I’ve had a look ’round the back of the shop, and uh, we’re right out of county championships.
(pause)
CCS: (Incredulous) I see. I see, I get the picture.
COE: (pause) I’ve got an alternative though?
(pause)
CCS: (Mocking) Pray, does it encourage cricket to played in the way so cherished by lovers of the longest format of the game?
COE: Nnn- not really. It’s a format that we’re thinking of calling ‘The Fifty’!
CCS: WELL IT’S HARDLY A SATISFACTORY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?
(He storms out and joins the increasing number who are losing all interest in the summer game. After all, he only ever wanted to be a lumberjack)
With apologies to Monty Python.
And having announced its death, here are a couple of spooky cricket stories related to county crickets demise:
To read ‘Scooby Doo and the Mystery of the Deseted Cricket Ground’, click here
To read ‘A Cricketing Christmas Carol: A Ghost Story’, click here
Other Monty Python inspired cricket pieces
To read ‘A Somerset Cricket Players Emporium 2022’ click here
Yesterday I saw a picture posted by my friend Katya, who lives in Kharkiv and was thus an eye witness of Russia’s latest attack on the people of that city. Below is some footage she shot of that same attack – footage that, knowing the person who filmed it, I found particularly sobering to watch.
But it’s film, I believe, that others would benefit from not only watching, but listening to as well.
Because, as well as by the things I was seeing, I was struck by how the distinct sound of birdsong could be heard despite the terrifying background noise of missiles exploding and air raid sirens being sounded.
All of which got me thinking.
Whilst putting up with the relentless attacks on their homeland, many Ukrainians speak of the hurt they feel when they hear certain world leaders blaming them for the war, claiming as they do that they either started it, or are somehow in the wrong for trying to defend themselves. It feels to them like yet another unjust assault on their already beleaguered nation.
But when those making such utterances are supposedly those with the greatest power, who else do those they are addressing have to listen to?
Well today is a day which might provide a clue to the answer to that question. Because today is Pentecost Sunday, the day that Christians remember the outpouring of the Holy Spirit – the same Holy Spirit who, just as he brought order out of the chaotic waters he hovered above before the creation of the world, is able to bring order out of the chaos that we find ourselves experiencing today.
If that is, we would listen to the one he longs for us to hear – be we Ukrainians living in a war zone, or those who are simply struggling, perhaps less dramatically, with our own everyday difficulties.
There will of course be those who say that it is naive to hope in God but, to me at least, truly naivety would be to keep on hoping in men and women when, rather than knowing what best to do, those we elect seem to be nothing other than utterly out of control. Wouldn’t it be better to fix our eyes on Jesus and, as the one who announced him to be his son urges us, ‘listen to him’ instead.
That isn’t, of course, easy – especially when there are those who are so loud mouthed that, like those relentlessly exploding missiles, they seem to constantly demand our attention too.
But just as alongside the cacophony of war there is the reassuring sound of birdsong, so too, alongside the nonsense spouted by mankind, there is the infinite wisdom of the unchanging word of God which, as a result of the Holy Spirit working in us, we begin to see revealed to us in the Bible.
And it’s there that we read of the occasion when the LORD appeared to Elijah. First ‘a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper.’ [1 Kings 19:11-12]
It was, therefore, through his ‘still small voice’ that God made himself known to Elijah. And so it is that he continues to make himself known to believers today – through his living word that, as those who have heard it will testify, is infinitely more powerful than the comparatively plaintive whines of those who, in this world, like to consider themselves important.
And so, on this Pentecost Sunday, may we all know the Holy Spirit helping us to understand God word as he has made it available to us in the holy scriptures; may we all experience the joy of knowing our sins have been forgiven as a result of Jesus’ substitutionary death for us on the cross; and may we may all look confidently forward to that day when, as well as experiencing our own bodily resurrection, all our tears will be wiped away and death will be no more.
And since these are the things that those who hope in God, are sure and certain of, let’s all hope in God.
Recently I started reading David Seccombe’s book, ‘The Gospel of the Kingdom’, and I was interested to learn how the word ‘Gospel’ has a meaning beyond that of ‘good news’ that it is well known to have within Christian circles.
The first occurrence in the Bible of the word ‘gospel’ is found in 1 Samuel 4:17 where it appears in the context of long-distance communication on one of Israel’s darkest days. A messenger arrived in the town of Shiloh where Eli was waiting anxiously for news of the battle that had been taking place between Israel and the Philistines.
Eli asked the messenger how the battle had fared and we read that the one who brought the report, literally ‘the gospeller’, answered by relaying the catastrophically bad news of Israel’s defeat, the death of Eli’s two sons, and the capture of the ark of God.
‘Gospel’ then, as originally used, wasn’t a word associated solely with good news.
On other occasions however, it was – as was the case when David received news of how his army, led by Joab, had fared against that of his rebellious son Absalom. Joab had won a great victory and a messenger was subsequently despatched to take the news to David. And when David sees him approaching, he says in 2 Samuel 18:25 that if he runs alone, ‘there is news in his mouth’, literally he carries ‘gospel’.
And there are other, non-biblical uses of the word too. I could tell you how the word is used in the story of Pheidippides who ran from Marathon to Athens to convey the good news of the Greek army’s victory over the Persians, or how the great Roman general. Pompey, received the good news, to him at least, of the death of King Mithradates from the despatch riders that the historian Plutach calls ‘gospels’.
But irrespective of whether the news is good or bad, on every occasion the word is used for the conveying of momentous announcements related to victory in battle and the rise and fall of kingdoms.
Which I hope you will see the relevance of. Because the Christian gospel is indeed good news, relating to the regime change that has been brought about through the death of Jesus Christ on the cross and his subsequent resurrection. Because it is through this most momentous historical event that the ruler of the kingdom of this world, the devil, has been overthrown and been replaced by King Jesus – the ruler of the now present kingdom of God.
All of which is particularly significant today since it is Ascension Day – the day when Christians traditionally remember how, forty days after his resurrection, Jesus ascended, not just to heaven, but to a throne.
A throne on which he still sits.
Which is indeed very good news since, no matter our current circumstances, we can be sure that the one who rules over us now, is the one who will do so, not only for all eternity [Isaiah 9:7] but also with both ‘understanding and knowledge’. [Proverbs 28:2]. Those of us who are his subjects can, therefore, gladly submit to his authority, confident that his rule is one that is characterised by both justice and perfect righteousness.
All of which helps us understand what it is to be a Christian. Because such are those who are no longer under the rule of the old regime, the one that ultimately leads only to death. Instead we are citizens of the kingdom of God, under the Lordship of Jesus Christ, and thus can look confidently forward to eternal life.
It is a radically different way of life, as Jesus himself makes plain when in Luke 9:23-27 he says,
‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses of forfeits himself? For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words, of him will the Son of Man be ashamed when he comes in his glory and the glory of the Father and of the holy angels. But I tell you truly, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see the kingdom of God’”
These are challenging words.
As disciples of Jesus we are called not to follow our hearts in the way that the world so often encourages us to do, hearts that are, remember, unreliable guides given how they are deceitful above all things and desperately sick. [Jeremiah 17:9]
Rather we are to follow a person, one who, as God’s chosen King, has every right to demand our allegiance.
And, like Jesus, our lives are to be cross driven. Like him, we are to deny ourselves and take up our cross too. Having become beneficiaries of the regime change that Jesus brought about, it makes no sense for us to continue living for ourselves, because that futile way of life, characterised as it is by sin and death, is the life that we have been saved from. To go on living for ourselves would therefore, be both a denial of what was achieved for us on the cross and a denial of our new identity in Christ.
To be a follower of Jesus is then an all or nothing affair. Rather than something we can commit to only as much as we feel inclined to at any given time, we are, says Jesus, to deny ourself daily by putting our own selfish desires to death each and every day of our lives.
That then, is what it means to follow Jesus.
And we should recognise too how our response to the gospel is a matter of life and death. For, as Jesus himself says, if we continue as we once did, supposedly saving our lives by pleasing ourselves as citizens of the kingdom of darkness, then we will only ultimately lose them. But if we submit to Christ’s lordship, losing our lives for his sake, we will actually be saving them.
So then, to be a disciple of Jesus is to be one who is learning to live, not for oneself, but for God – in the light of the reality that we are, as a result of Christ’s saving work in our behalf, citizens now of heaven. And we need to remember that even if we were to live ‘successfully’ in the kingdom of darkness, we would still ultimately lose everything. ‘For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself?’
But notice something else from Jesus’ words – his call to live a life devoted to him, though a challenging one, is not one that we should resist. Because to lose our life for his sake will ultimately be worth it as it will mean that, as well as our lives being eternally preserved, we will go on to enjoy everlasting life with God, ‘in whose presence there is fullness of joy and at whose right hand there are pleasures for evermore’. [Psalm 16:11]
That’s what it means to have our lives saved – something that surely we all want. If it is, however, we are called first to lose our lives, to recognise that our allegiance is rightfully to Jesus and thus live to please him and not ourselves.
On Ascension Day therefore, let’s not be ashamed of the one who sits on the throne. Let’s not be ashamed of the one who rescued us and has guaranteed our future. And let’s not be ashamed of the gospel that is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes. [Romans 1:16].
Related posts related to the Christian Calendar:
To read ‘AN ADVENT CALENDAR COMPLETE’ – which includes 24 reflections on the Christmas Story, click here
To read ‘A CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN – 2024 – COMPLETE’ – which includes 24 reflections on why Jesus came to Earth on that first Christmas Day’, click here.
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted – sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
To read ‘Why do bad things happen to good people? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Good Friday’, click here
It’s not unusual for Christians to struggle. And nor is it unknown for them to sometimes question God.
In Psalm 77 Asaph cries out in his distress and calls on the God who, it appears to him, is not listening or, if he is, has forgotten to be gracious. Nonsensical though it no doubt seems to him, the psalmist even wonders if God’s everlasting love for him has finally come to an end.
Perhaps some of us have felt similarly. But if we have, we would do well to take a leaf out of Asaph’s book and do what he, in his despair, wisely chose to do himself.
Which was to remember God – and In particular the powerful acts he’d performed in the past.
Now for Asaph, writing as he was in Old Testament times, the mightiest of all God’s acts was the Exodus – the occasion when he recused his people by parting the waters of the Red Sea and thus rescued them from Egypt and Pharaoh’s vast army that was pursuing them. This is how Asaph describes that event in verses 16-20 of Psalm 77.
‘When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; indeed, the deep trembled. The clouds poured out water; the skies gave forth thunder; your arrows flashed on every side. The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind; your lightnings lighted up the world; the earth trembled and shook. Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters; yet your footprints were unseen. You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.’
It all sounds very frightening for the people of God, and yet it was through that experience that they were saved – an experience during which, though his ‘footprints were unseen’, he was nonetheless with them, leading them as a shepherd leads a flock.
We don’t know what was troubling Asaph when he wrote his psalm, but given how it ends with the above words, it seems to me that his recalling God’s past record of coming to the rescue of his people was enough to comfort him, reassuring him as it surely would have, that God could, and would, do the same for him, no matter how difficult his situation was.
So how can all this help us in our distress?
Well we can remember the mighty works of God too – specifically the one by an even greater rescue of the people of God was brought about.
For that is what Jesus achieved by dying on a cross. Because his death paid the price, not for the things that he had done wrong – for he was the sinless Son of God – but for all the sin that we have so grievously committed. And it was by dying in our place, that Jesus saved us from the slavery of sin and the existential fear of death that we all are consequently prone to.
But merely bringing Christ’s crucifixion to mind does not, of course, change our current difficult situation – nor does it remove all of our ongoing distress. But it does change our perspective of it. Because the assurance of God’s infinite and everlasting love for us, evidenced by his sending Jesus to suffer and die for us in the way that he did, gives us absolute confidence that all of his many promises of a better tomorrow will surely be kept.
And the promise of a better tomorrow causes us to feel better about the distress we may be experiencing today. Let me give you an illustration, one that I’ve used before.
Suppose, back when I worked as a GP, a patient comes to see me with a really nasty chest infection. They feel horribly unwell and are seriously worried that they will never recover.
And then I give them a prescription for some antibiotics and promise them that, if they take them, they will soon be restored to health.
Immediately they feel better.
Even though they aren’t.
How could they be, they’ve not even picked up the prescription yet. But they nonetheless begin to feel better because they have believed my promise that better is what they will one day be.
Well God has made promises too, one’s that can be depended upon far more reliably than any promise made by any doctor ever. And not least amongst them is the one that, so precious to me and many other believers, tells us that a day is coming when he will wipe away every tear from our eyes and death shall be no more. [Revelation 21:4].
In Psalm 77, Asaph wrote of how God led his people as a shepherd leads his flock. So it is not insignificant therefore, that Jesus described himself as the good shepherd, one who lays down his life for his sheep [John 10:11]. Furthermore, like those of God at the time of the Exodus, though his footsteps may not be seen, in frightening times we can still be assured that he is with us – even as we ‘walk through the valley of the shadow of death’ [Psalm 23:4].
So then, by remembering the mighty works of God, he restores our souls. And as he leads us in paths of righteousness, we need fear no evil. Because, by trusting in his promises, we can surely know, that ‘goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our life’ and we will dwell, safe and sound, in the house of the LORD forever’ [Psalm 23:6]
Related blogs:
To read ‘Luther and the war in Ukraine’, click here
To read ‘When our joy will be complete’, click here
Recently I read one of those increasingly ubiquitous homilies that urges its readers to let go of anything in their lives that makes them unhappy or causes them distress.
But despite its no doubt good intentions, such advice is surely only sometimes sound. Because some things are more important than our individual happiness or our own avoidance of pain and it is only those things that don’t much matter that we should look to let go of.
For the things that do matter, like the love we have for those who sometimes cause us grief, it’s important to hold on – no matter how hard it is to sometimes get a grip.
Because letting go means we’ve given up hope – and giving up hope only leads to despair.
And therein lies the answer to what we should and shouldn’t let go of. Let us by all means give up the things that lead us to hope for what we shouldn’t, like the anger we feel towards someone that causes us to want revenge. But let us never give up on the things that cause us to hope for things we should desire, things like forgiveness, reconciliation and love.
Some things aren’t ever meant to end – and ultimately it’s harder to give up such things than it is to hold onto them forever, irrespective of how painful the associated hope might be to live with.
Some people say that we need to stop allowing ourselves to be controlled by what seems now to be over. But what if we allowed those things to shape us into better people – people who bring peace, healing and new beginnings.
Because that’s what pain and suffering can sometimes do.
Rather than pain and suffering being things that must, at all costs be removed from our lives therefore, perhaps instead we need to welcome them in to our lives as our teachers, firm and fair though they may be – just as all good teachers are.
Because letting go of what hurts us, though more comfortable perhaps in the short term, ultimately only diminishes us, makes us shallow and superficial, and ultimately will only make us more unhappy.
When we let go, we give up and in so doing deny ourselves the chance to grow, deny ourselves the chance to forgive, and deny ourselves to become stronger as a result.
Holding on isn’t easy of course – nor is it for the short term. Even so we need to decide to hold on – day after day after day.
And that’s okay.
Because in the end, we will feel better. And one day, the one we held on for might just be thankful for how we never let them go.
Just as I am grateful to the one who always held on, and never lets go of me.
‘The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning: great is his faithfulness’ [Lamentations 3:22-23]
Related posts:
To read “Hope comes from believing the promises of God”, click here
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
To read ‘Why do bad things happen to good people? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Good Friday’, click here
To read ‘Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things? Rejoicing, though temporarily sorrowful, on Easter Day’, click here.
The following are two items posted on Somerset’s Official Facebook Page.
April 27th 2025
Up until about eighteen months ago I worked as a doctor and came into contact with those with terminal cancer, advanced dementia and major mental illness. More recently I have worked for a a charity that supports those who, amongst others, are living in Ukraine and are currently forced to cope with daily missile attacks from their Russian aggressors.
As such, today’s performance by Somerset, though disappointing, and all the more so given it was against Surrey, was not a disaster. Nobody died, nobody lost a limb and nobody lost either their home or a loved one. In fact, apart from a game of cricket, nobody lost anything.
There are then, far more important things than cricket, and what we do for fun doesn’t always have to be accompanied by success.
Which is perhaps worth remembering before pouring scorn on those we are privileged to watch for our entertainment.
Because, as for me, whilst watching Somerset play is inevitably more enjoyable when every member of the team is performing as well as we know they all can, it remains the case that, even on days like today when their performance has admittedly been well below par, there is no other team I’d rather go and see.
Somerset supporters differ in all sorts of ways, but what all of us have in common is a desire to see the team do well. We all share in the hope of one day seeing the team win the championship but importantly, our support is not dependent on that success being realised. As genuine supporters we commit to supporting the team through thick and thin. Sometimes, therefore, we will be lifted up together, and sometimes we will be deflated together – when an individual player does well, we will share a little of their pleasure, and when another player fails, we will share a little of their disappointment.
Whilst we will always be passionate, we’ll never be unkind, or take delight when players underperform – and neither will we cease to get behind them when they need our support the most.
And so at the risk of repeating myself, let me say it again. As a Somerset supporter I will continue to support the team that for 48 years has given me a great deal of pleasure – as indeed did Migael Pretorius and Louis Gregory with their enjoyable 79 run partnership today.
And as one who wouldn’t make it from the dressing room to the middle without tripping over my cricket pads, I’ll leave any criticism of individual players, all of whom I’m sure are trying their hardest, to those who know rather more about batting technique than I do. No doubt the coaching staff will have things to say to the players, but I trust that any criticism they do have will be more constructive than simply dismissing the team as a bunch of no hopers.
Which is most definitely not the case – being as they are, in large measure, the same players that beat Surrey by dismissing them for 10 runs less than Somerset scored today in the last innings of that thrilling game last September which left them with a chance of winning the 2024 four day trophy.
Furthermore, on days like today we need to offer a little encouragement to the team as we look to boost their individual and collective confidence, rather than undermining it still further by endeavouring to hang them out to dry.
So come on Somerset. Over the years there have been many ups and downs, but you have always been terrific to watch. And so, whether it’s in person or whether it’s from a distance, we’ll never stop supporting you and will be rooting for you wherever, and whenever, you take to the field.
Next up, Essex at home – and I for one can’t wait!
May 6th 2025
Over the last week, Somerset’s fortunes have changed markedly – but some things have remained the same.
Because for some, just as it was after the disappointing defeat against Surrey, life has been just as difficult following an exhilarating win over Essex. Indeed, over the last seven days Ukraine has seen far too many Russian missiles hit their target and some Somerset fans, having experienced the agonies of the loss at the Oval have, for all kinds of unfortunate reasons, been rendered unable to enjoy thIs weekend’s heroics at the county ground in Taunton.
And something else that hasn’t changed is the hurtful criticism that is posted in this group that goes beyond thoughtful comment on what’s taken place and descends so far into personal abuse that it is noticed by opposition supporters with dismay. It’s often said that Somerset have the best supporters in the country, and I like to think that’s true – but I wonder sometimes if we might not also have the worst.
But whilst sovereignty isn’t determined by power, merit isn’t determined by personal circumstances, and truth isn’t determined by popularity, it is nonetheless heartening to note that the most spiteful comments made here are those that are liked least. Indeed, on more than one occasion, in their presumed desperation to have somebody affirm their vitriolic point of view, I have noticed that the author has tellingly had to resort to liking their own post!
What these individuals fail to understand is that cricket is important precisely because of its unimportance – just as all sport is. Its value comes, not only from being something that, because of its joyous irrelevance, we can enjoy in times of serious sadness, but also because it allows us to ‘meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same.’ Namely with grace. Furthermore, because it’s true that we are free to comment in whatever way we choose, it means we are also free not to – that is to say we are free to refrain from unkind comments and seek only to encourage instead.
As was the case with my post following the Surrey game, there may be those who, considering my words to be nonsense, feel inclined to tell me so – though if they do it’s likely they will once again chose a less polite word to do so. But that’s okay, because neither what I or they say really matters.
Because, whilst as yesterday proved, cricket is a wonderful, wonderful game – it is at the close of play just that – a game. And what is said about it is even less important than what takes place on the field.
Glorious though every vital, and trivial, moment was!
Other cricket related posts:
To read ‘I Spy Somerset’s 150th Anniversary Season’, click heee
The following are two items posted on Somerset’s Official Facebook Page.
April 27th 2025
Up until about eighteen months ago I worked as a doctor and came into contact with those with terminal cancer, advanced dementia and major mental illness. More recently I have worked for a a charity that supports those who, amongst others, are living in Ukraine and are currently forced to cope with daily missile attacks from their Russian aggressors.
As such, today’s performance by Somerset, though disappointing, and all the more so given it was against Surrey, was not a disaster. Nobody died, nobody lost a limb and nobody lost either their home or a loved one. In fact, apart from a game of cricket, nobody lost anything.
There are then, far more important things than cricket, and what we do for fun doesn’t always have to be accompanied by success.
Which is perhaps worth remembering before pouring scorn on those we are privileged to watch for our entertainment.
Because, as for me, whilst watching Somerset play is inevitably more enjoyable when every member of the team is performing as well as we know they all can, it remains the case that, even on days like today when their performance has admittedly been well below par, there is no other team I’d rather go and see.
Somerset supporters differ in all sorts of ways, but what all of us have in common is a desire to see the team do well. We all share in the hope of one day seeing the team win the championship but importantly, our support is not dependent on that success being realised. As genuine supporters we commit to supporting the team through thick and thin. Sometimes, therefore, we will be lifted up together, and sometimes we will be deflated together – when an individual player does well, we will share a little of their pleasure, and when another player fails, we will share a little of their disappointment.
Whilst we will always be passionate, we’ll never be unkind, or take delight when players underperform – and neither will we cease to get behind them when they need our support the most.
And so at the risk of repeating myself, let me say it again. As a Somerset supporter I will continue to support the team that for 48 years has given me a great deal of pleasure – as indeed did Migael Pretorius and Louis Gregory with their enjoyable 79 run partnership today.
And as one who wouldn’t make it from the dressing room to the middle without tripping over my cricket pads, I’ll leave any criticism of individual players, all of whom I’m sure are trying their hardest, to those who know rather more about batting technique than I do. No doubt the coaching staff will have things to say to the players, but I trust that any criticism they do have will be more constructive than simply dismissing the team as a bunch of no hopers.
Which is most definitely not the case – being as they are, in large measure, the same players that beat Surrey by dismissing them for 10 runs less than Somerset scored today in the last innings of that thrilling game last September which left them with a chance of winning the 2024 four day trophy.
Furthermore, on days like today we need to offer a little encouragement to the team as we look to boost their individual and collective confidence, rather than undermining it still further by endeavouring to hang them out to dry.
So come on Somerset. Over the years there have been many ups and downs, but you have always been terrific to watch. And so, whether it’s in person or whether it’s from a distance, we’ll never stop supporting you and will be rooting for you wherever, and whenever, you take to the field.
Next up, Essex at home – and I for one can’t wait!
May 6th 2025
Over the last week, Somerset’s fortunes have changed markedly – but some things have remained the same.
Because for some, just as it was after the disappointing defeat against Surrey, life has been just as difficult following an exhilarating win over Essex. Indeed, over the last seven days Ukraine has seen far too many Russian missiles hit their target and some Somerset fans, having experienced the agonies of the loss at the Oval have, for all kinds of unfortunate reasons, been rendered unable to enjoy thIs weekend’s heroics at the county ground in Taunton.
And something else that hasn’t changed is the hurtful criticism that is posted in this group that goes beyond thoughtful comment on what’s taken place and descends so far into personal abuse that it is noticed by opposition supporters with dismay. It’s often said that Somerset have the best supporters in the country, and I like to think that’s true – but I wonder sometimes if we might not also have the worst.
And though. just as sovereignty isn’t determined by force and worth isn’t determined by personal circumstances, truth isn’t determined by popularity, it is nonetheless heartening to note that the most spiteful comments made here are those that are liked least. Indeed, on more than one occasion, in their presumed desperation to have somebody affirm their vitriolic point of view, I have noticed that the author has tellingly had to resort to liking their own post!
What these individuals fail to understand is that cricket is important precisely because of its unimportance – just as all sport is. Its value comes, not only from being something that, because of its joyous irrelevance, we can enjoy in times of serious sadness, but also because it allows us to ‘meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same.’ Namely with grace. Furthermore, because it’s true that we are free to comment in whatever way we choose, it means we are also free not to – that is to say we are free to refrain from unkind comments and seek only to encourage instead.
As was the case with my post following the Surrey game, there may be those who, considering my words to be nonsense, feel inclined to tell me so – though if they do it’s likely they will once again chose a less polite word to do so. But that’s okay, because neither what I or they say really matters.
Because, whilst as yesterday proved, cricket is a wonderful, wonderful game – it is at the close of play just that – a game. And what is said about it is even less important than what takes place on the field.
Glorious though every vital, and trivial, moment was!
Other cricket related posts:
This season:
To read ‘I Spy Somerset’s 150th Anniversary Season’, click here
‘There’s a lullaby for suffering, And a paradox to blame, But it’s written in the scriptures, And it’s not some idle claim’ Leonard Cohen
‘Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life’. Jesus Christ [John 12:24-25]
As the war in Ukraine continues to rage, and talk of peace is accompanied only by seemingly more intensive attacks by the Russian aggressors, there are no doubt many in that country who understandably fear for their life. For them there is no guarantee that they will make it though another day alive.
Which is, of course, something that is true for all of us, even if, in our relatively peaceful circumstances, we manage to kid ourselves otherwise. But whilst I am conscious that today really could be my last, I am also concerned that I have not yet died enough.
One of the things that has become apparent over the last few months is that we all, myself included, have an opinion as to how the current crisis can best be resolved. And we’re all too happy to voice that opinion. Why is that I wonder?
Perhaps it is because we have a need to think that we’re in control, that there is something that we can do about the problems that we face. Some of us may be comforted into thinking that everything will be a OK by believing that world leaders and their advisors know what they are doing, but others of us are less sure and instead draw comfort by believing that we know what needs to be done and that, if we shout it loudly enough, somebody will hear and implement our sage advice.
But what if that wasn’t the case? What if there really was nothing that we could do? What if we really were helpless? What then? Might we have to look elsewhere for our comfort?
A while back I worked my way through a book entitled ‘On being a theologian of the cross’ which takes a look at Martin Luther’s 1518 Heidelberg Disputation. If that sounds rather heavy, that’ll be because it is! Even so, it really is quite brilliant. Here’s what I understand the one time German monk to have said.
God is who he is. And we need to understand him in relation to who he has revealed himself to be rather than on the basis of how we would like him to be. Because the two are often very different.
Luther sees the cross as central to Christianity. He calls it God’s ‘alien work’, an attack on sin which, since our aspirations are as fallen as the rest of us is, at the same time, an attack on who we are in our fallen state. In short, our desires are not what they ought to be and, consequently, those things that we want, and which we might expect God to be pleased to deliver, may not necessarily be what God wants.
The crucifixion of Jesus Christ, that wholly unexpected event in history, is central to God’s revelation of himself. At the cross, we see him manifesting his glory, paradoxically through suffering and death. Luther calls those who understand God in these terms, ‘theologians of the cross’. They are, he says, those who see God as he really is.
Luther also had a name for those who, along with the world, see the crucifixion of Jesus as foolishness. He calls then ‘Theologians of Glory’. They are those who consider the cross to be ‘folly’ [1 Corinthians 1:23]. As a result of their fallen nature, they not only glory in the same things that the world glories in, but imagine that God glories in those things too.
But when we expect God to act in the way that we want him to, when we expect him to want for us what we want for ourselves, we are, in fact, creating for ourselves a God in our own image. In so doing we are usurping the ‘God who is there’ and seeking to place ourselves on his throne.
God, however, is God. He is who he wills to be. His ways are higher than ours, as are his thoughts. [Isaiah 55:9] and, as such, his greatness is unsearchable’ [Psalm 145:3], and ‘the thunder of his power’ is not something that, of ourselves, we can understand?’ [Job 26:14].
Which is why God often works in ways that surprise us, in ways that we would not choose. Indeed, as he did at Calvary, God sometimes sees fit to work through pain and suffering and so, just as it was through the cross that he most fully revealed himself to the world, we must be prepared for Him to still use pain and suffering as the means by which he reveals himself to us today.
However, because of our fallen nature, we are all, by default, theologians of glory. And because we can not be what we are not, it is impossible for us to see God for who he really is without him breaking into our lives and changing who we are.
As theologians of glory, those who think as the world does in terms of performance and reward, we find it impossible to understand what was achieved through the death of Jesus on the cross. And so, rather than being the recipients of the grace and mercy that was poured out there, we instead keep on trying to merit God’s approval. We like to think that, somewhere deep within us, there is a kernel of goodness that might allow us to do something that would impress God enough to earn his favour. We comfort ourselves by imagining that if we try just a little bit harder, we might, by our efforts, make progress in our search for his acceptance.
But what if that wasn’t the case? What if there really was nothing that we could do? What if we really were helpless? What then? Might we have to look elsewhere for our comfort?
Luther is convinced that in our fallen state we really are helpless. There really is nothing we can do to change. Everything about us is flawed and, as has already be stated, our default position is such that we are all, myself included, theologians of glory. Indeed, this inherent tendency in me was made apparent when in an earlier draft of this blog, I initially wrote of how I needed to ‘allow’ God to be God! ‘Allow’? Really? What pretension on my part to think God needs permission from me to be who he is!
Not only then do theologians of glory imagine that God wants for us what we want for ourselves, that he will provide our best life now, a life characterised by health, wealth and prosperity, they also believe that we are inherently worthy of God’s love and that we can, by an effort of the will prove ourselves to be so.
But they are wrong – and we can’t.
In fact, according to Luther, a belief that we can earn God’s favour in our own strength is a sin in itself – one that only worsens our situation still further. Because, by maintaining that by keeping the law we can make ourselves any more acceptable to God, we deny the need for his grace and, as a result, compound our guilt.
The first thesis of Luther’s disputation states that: ‘The law of God, the most salutary doctrine of life, cannot advance humans on their way to righteousness, but rather hinders them’. This is wholly in keeping with the apostle Paul when he writes that ‘by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight, since through the law comes knowledge of sin.’ [Romans 3:20]
Our problem then is far greater than we would like to imagine.
It’s not merely that we need to try harder – rather it is that the task is too hard.
It’s not merely that we need to think more highly of others – rather it is that we need to think less highly of ourselves
It’s not merely that we need to humble ourselves – rather it is that we need to be humbled.
God opposes the proud and gives grace to the humble [James 4:6]. But it is only when we come to despair completely in the effectiveness of our own efforts that we are able to receive the grace that God is so eager to pour out on us. And to be brought to this point, to be humbled so completely, our old selves need to die. That is why, as I said above, my concern is that I have not yet died enough.
Theologians of glory think as the world thinks, they stress our worth and minimise the necessity of the cross. They see the crucifixion as merely a demonstration of God’s love for us rather than the bloody sacrifice that was required for our salvation.
In contrast, theologians of the cross see things as they really are. They acknowledge our inherent sinfulness – and the perilous danger that we are in if we fail to appreciate this reality. Furthermore, they accept that God, just as he did 2000 years ago, through the means of cruel nails and a bloody cross, still sometimes works to bring about his purposes in ways that are incomprehensible to the world.
Sometimes he works through heartache and sorrow,
Sometimes he works through pain and suffering.
And sometimes, perhaps, he may even work through a war in Eastern Europe – one that, though we must, nonetheless, pray for it to come to an end, may yet have to sadly accept that it needs to continue a while longer rather than being brought to an unjust and temporary end by peace deals that seemingly have more to do with the personal interests of those who try to broker them than what is actually right and wrong.
Along with Bob Dylan, my favourite musician is Leonard Cohen. Following his death some years ago I wrote a short blog after I came across something interesting he had said in response to being asked why so many of his songs had a melancholic feel to them. If you’re so minded you can read that blog here, but this is what he said:
‘We all love a sad song. Everybody has experienced the defeat of their lives. Nobody has a life that worked out the way they wanted it to. We all begin as the hero of our own dramas in centre stage and inevitably life moves us out of centre stage, defeats the hero, overturns the plot and the strategy and we’re left on the side-lines wondering why we no longer have a part – or want a part – in the whole…thing. Everybody’s experienced this, and when it’s presented to us sweetly, the feeling moves from heart to heart and we feel less isolated and we feel part of the great human chain which is really involved with the recognition of defeat’.
Cohen, then, is speaking here like a theologian of the cross, one who acknowledges the normality of sadness and appreciates how life is about ‘the recognition of defeat’.
But here’s the thing. Is there, I wonder, a joy to be had in being conquered by someone who is greater than ourselves, one who is worthy of our admiration and in whom we can delight?
I think there is.
By seeking satisfaction in ourselves, scripture tells us that we ‘have committed two evils: [we] have forsaken [God], the fountain of living waters, and hewn out cisterns for [ourselves], broken cisterns that can hold no water.’ [Jeremiah 2:13]. There is though, real refreshment to be had in the contentment that comes from no longer having to win, a relief that comes from having the burden of being a success lifted, a real pleasure that flows from admiring, not ourselves, but the God who really can satisfy our souls.
I believe that to be conquered by God is, therefore, something that would be good for us all. It would most certainly be good for me.
And so, when life is difficult, as it sometimes is, for me as well as others, and when I am tempted to wonder where God might be, I need to think more like a theologian of the cross, one who sees God working through the pain and sadness. Because as he does so he is breaking my fragile dependence on myself in order that I might depend securely on him, lessening my unsatisfying obsession with myself in order that I might be fully satisfied in him, and lovingly putting me to death in order that I might one day rise again in Christ.
So then, perhaps it is when our difficulties seem to be genuinely overwhelming that it is time for us to believe that ‘this light momentary affliction [really] is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look, not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal’ [2 Corinthians 4:17-18].
Only as God lovingly brings us to the point of surrender will we find real comfort in ‘the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God’ [2 Corinthians 1:3-4]
But as these verses continue, we see again the paradoxical nature of the God who refuses to conform to worldly expectations. For it is not only that God comforts us in our suffering because it is as we suffer that we are comforted and able to comfort others who, as they themselves suffer, are themselves comforted too.
Having started with a statement on the inability of man to contribute anything to their salvation, Luther completes the Heidelberg Disputation with words which are, again, totally contrary to how the world thinks. This is what he says: ‘The love of God does not first discover but creates what is pleasing to it. The love of man comes into being through attraction to what pleases it.’
And here too is real comfort.
Because, whilst our love is only ever a response to what we find lovely, God’s love originates within himself. Which means he loves us, not because we are lovely, but because he is both loving and the one who is love [John 4:8]. Furthermore God loves us in order to make us lovely.
So then, though we can not do anything to warrant it in and of ourselves, God, through the foolishness of the cross, through the pain, suffering and death experienced both there and in our lives, does everything necessary to make us how we were always meant to be. He does everything necessary for our salvation including all that is required to make us humble enough to accept it.
And, because he loves us, he does it regardless of how painful it might seem to us at the time.
‘For the Lord disciplines the one he loves…he disciplines us for our good, that we may share his holiness. For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.’ [Hebrews 12:6,10-11]
‘Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!’ [Romans 11:33]
God is a theologian of the cross.
‘[He] is God and there is no other; [he] is God there is none like [him]’ [Isaiah 46:9]
‘[He] kill[s] and [He] make[s] alive; [He] wound[s] and [He] heal[s]; and there is none that can deliver out of [his] hand’ [Deuteronomy 32:39]
Oh that we might know and be known by the one true God, the God who is like no other. Oh that he would wound us that we might be healed – that he would kill us that we would be made alive. Oh that we might be forever in his hands.
And oh that He would do everything necessary to make us true theologians of the cross, even if, in order to make us ‘rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead’ it makes us feel, like Paul, that we ‘had received the sentence of death’ [2 Corinthians 1:9].
Jesus said ‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it.’ [Mark 8:34-35].
It is my prayer therefore that I might be brought to the point whereby I know what it is to follow Jesus in the way that he calls me too. And that I might know what it is, by the Spirit, to put to death the deeds of the body and thereby live. [Romans 8:13]
Because, though ‘to live is Christ…to die is gain’ [Philippians 1:21]. It is my earnest belief that God will raise me from death and it is only then that I ‘shall see him as he is’, it is only then that I ‘shall be like [Jesus]’ [1 John 3:2], and it is only then that I will know the full joy of of being with him forever. [Luke 23:43].
So now, ‘to him who is able’, sometimes by trials or tribulations and sometimes by death or disease, ‘to keep [us] from stumbling and to present [us] blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Saviour, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time, and now, and forever. Amen’ [Jude 1:24-25].
The idea that God exists primarily for our benefit is nothing new, so I suppose we shouldn’t be too surprised when, in his Easter message, Donald Trump stated how he believes that God will make America prosperous.
But those who believe in a health, wealth and prosperity gospel are making a big mistake – because prosperity is no more a sign of God’s love for a nation as personal wealth or good health is a sign of God’s love for an individual.
For whilst God is sometimes pleased to provide for us in these ways, so might his allowing us to experience suffering in our lives be a manifestation of his amazing grace too.
I’ve written previously about how it was because of his great love for Lazarus, Mary and Martha, that Jesus allowed Lazarus to die by not rushing to his aid when he knew his friend was dead [John 11: 5-6], but rather than refering again to that example of how God sometimes moves in mysterious ways, I’d like to consider something that Jesus said to the apostle Peter after his resurrection.
Before Jesus was arrested, Peter thought he was strong and insisted that, unlike all the other disciples, Jesus was wrong when he predicted that he would fall away. But despite his protestations that he was willing even to die for Jesus, when push came to shove, Peter did exactly what Jesus had said he would and denied him three times.
But for Peter, who was genuinely remorseful for letting Jesus down, it wasn’t the end. A few days after his resurrection Jesus appeared to Peter and asked him three times whether he loved him. And each time Peter said that he did.
But whilst his repeated affirmations of his love for Jesus might be seen as an opportunity for Peter to atone for each of his previous failures, it was of course, Jesus’ death that had already done that. And it was a result of recognising this that Peter was able to answer Jesus’s questions in the way that he did. It was by appreciating how much he’d been forgiven, that enabled Peter to love Jesus more than he had previously for, as Jesus had previously taught, it is those who are forgiven much, that love much.
But I’m not saying here that Peter now loved Jesus perfectly. Not at all, for if you read the book of Acts you’ll see how Peter continues to sometimes fall short of how he ought to behave. Even so, at this particular moment, I think Peter had more genuine love for Jesus than he had ever had before.
Jesus’ repeated questioning of Peter does suggest however that he wanted to deal with the elephant in the room, or in this case on the beach. Jesus wanted to let his troubled disciple know that he didn’t hold his repeated denials against him. Furthermore, his subsequent commissioning of Peter to take care of those who would follow Jesus, is as wonderfully reassuring for us as it must have been for Peter, indicating as it does that, however great our mistakes, Jesus never gives up on us and that he still has a role for us in his kingdom.
Rather than despising the weak and marginalised, the poor and those who sometimes fail, Jesus is one who does not break a bruised reed or quench a smouldering wick. [isaiah 42:3; Matthew 12:20].
But there was more that Jesus wanted to say to Peter. And though Peter would have been shocked to hear what Jesus said next, I believe Jesus was nonetheless continuing to be gracious to him. This is what he said.
“Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.” [John 21:18-19]
These are enigmatic words but the gospel writer helpfully explains that Jesus said this to show by what kind of death Peter was to glorify God.
Jesus is therefore informing Peter that he would one day be crucified, supposedly upside down, for being one of his followers, something which, on the face of it, does not sound like good news. But think again.
Having just denied Jesus three times, Peter now realises that his faith is not as strong as he thought it was. But in much the same way as he’d told Peter he’d deny him, Jesus now tells him that one day his faith won’t fail and he will one day die for what he believes.
Which whilst troubling for Peter to hear would, at the same time, have been an incredibly reassuring thing for Peter know as it would confirm to him that he would not abandon his faith in the future.
All of which led me to consider how I want to die. Because whilst it might be nice to die peacefully at home in advanced old age, untroubled by too many of the inevitable consequences of being elderly, that’s not necessarily how I want to die. Because whilst, were I able to, I’d opt to slip away peacefully in my sleep, that’s not ultimately what is most important to me.
And neither do I consider it my goal to die with a healthy bank balance or in a perfectly presented home. For if I die in such comfortable conditions, how will I know that any faith I may then have in God is genuine? How, if it has not been suitably tested, will I know that my faith is real, and not merely the consequence of my favourable circumstances?
And so, since, as I die, it will be knowing for sure where I’m going that will comfort me, I now consider that, whilst it is not something I would actively seek out, were God to decide that my death will be both long drawn out and painful, then that would not necessarily be a bad thing.
Because more than dying peacefully, I want to die at peace – with God.
I want to die believing.
All of which reveals the health, wealth and prosperity gospel to be a false gospel, and those who pedal such nonsense to be liars. Health, wealth and prosperity are not necessarily what God wants for us in this life because faith in him is far more precious than any of these things.
Far then from seeing financial security and an absence of illness as a sign of God’s blessing, it may be that, along with anything else that distracts us from the real source of infinite and eternal joy, we’d be better off without them.
Which is not to say to say we should pursue poverty and pain is some masochistic misunderstanding of what it is to be a true Christian. But if, having been called to take up our cross and follow Jesus, we end up being crucified, literally as Peter was, or, as is more likely perhaps, more figuratively, then we should not be too surprised.
Furthermore we can take heart, rejoice even, in such circumstances because, as Peter himself once wrote:
‘In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls. [1 Peter 1:6-9]
But the circumstances of my death are not ultimately for me to decide. Whilst I may be given the option of declining treatment, I can no more opt to die of cancer rather a coronary than I have the right to set the day of my death. It is for God to determine these things not me. But whether I end my life wealthy or in relative want, in pain or peacefully at home, I believe I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me [Philippians 4:13]
Furthermore, should God be pleased to grant me faith in him until my dying day, it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that, with full courage now as always, Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death.
For to live is Christ, and to die is gain. [Philippians 1:20-21].
The gospel accounts of resurrection day record a number of things that Jesus said having been raised from the dead. Included are these words, found in John 20:19 where Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Peace be with you’.
Now the word ‘peace’ can be used in at least a couple of ways. The first is to convey a sense of calm and an absence of anxiety. And it seems entirely likely that Jesus would have wanted to reassure the disciples, as they would undoubtedly have been at least a little taken aback when the one they had supposed was dead appeared to them in what was, after all, a locked room.
And we know from elsewhere in the Bible that Jesus is all about calming fears and relieving anxiety. Previously he had told his disciples not to worry about their lives because their Father in heaven was aware of their needs and he would surely take care of them [Luke 12:22-32], a truth that was reiterated by the epistle writers who urge Christians not to be anxious about anything. Instead, by recognising that the Lord is always at hand, believers are encouraged to cast their cares on him and thereby experience the peace of God that passes all understanding. [Philippians 4:5-7, 1 Peter 5:7]
But ‘peace’ can also mean the absence of war and so, I think, Jesus also meant to announce what his dying for them had objectively achieved – that is peace with God. Which is exactly what the prophet Isaiah had predicted would be brought about some 750 years earlier when he wrote:
‘Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned’ [Isaiah 40:1-2]
These are comforting words for those of us who know how greatly we have failed to live the way that we should, for those of us who know how great our need for forgiveness is. And they must have been comforting words too for Peter who, just three days previously, had denied ever knowing Jesus. Before his abject failure to align himself with the one he’d spent three years with, Peter had considered himself a strong believer in Jesus, one who was even prepared to die for him if necessary. Put when push came to shove, Peter proved himself to be weak.
But here was Jesus proclaiming to him the same good news that is proclaimed to us today – that because of Jesus’ death on the cross our sin has been dealt with, that the penalty for our wrongdoing has been fully paid. Which means that we can not only enjoy peace with God, but at the same time look forward to eternal life with him. Because, since death only came into existence as the just punishment for sin, with our sin fully atoned for, death can no more hold those who are forgiven by God, than it was able to hold Jesus himself.
Little wonder then that Christians rejoice on Easter Day because, having been raised from the dead, Jesus is the living proof that his was a sufficient sacrifice for sin and death has therefore lost its sting. Jesus said ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me though he dies, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me, shall never die’ [John 11:25-26]
And so, we must ask ourselves if this is what we believe. If it is, then we too can look forward with absolute certainty to one day being raised from the dead ourselves. And in our new, perfect, resurrection bodies, we will experience both fullness of joy and pleasures for evermore – in the everlasting arms of our Heavenly Father whose steadfast love never ceases and whose mercy never comes to an end.
I hope you all have a very Happy Easter, because…
‘Christ is risen! – He is risen indeed.’
Related blogs:
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 7 – ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit’, click here.
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 6 – ‘It Is Finished’, click here.
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 5 – ‘I Thirst’, click here.
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 4 – ‘My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?’, click here.
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 3 – ‘Mother, behold your son! Behold your Mother!’, click here
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 2 – ‘Tomorrow, you will be with me in paradise’, click here
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 1 – ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’, click here.
To read ‘Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things? Rejoicing, though temporarily sorrowful, on Easter Day’, click here.
To read ‘Why do bad things happen to good people? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Good Friday’, click here
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted – sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
The gospel accounts of Jesus’ crucifixion record seven things that he said whilst hanging on the cross. The seventh is found in Luke 23:46 where we read that Jesus said, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.’
These then were the last words that Jesus spoke before ‘he breathed his last’ – words that demonstrate his continued faith in the one that, only a little earlier, he had questioned as to why he had forsaken him. But it’s significant, I think, that, whereas when he asked that previous question, he’d addressed it to ‘God,’ now he reverts to referring to the one he commits his spirit to as his ‘Father.’ Perhaps this suggests that, with the work of atonement complete, his abandonment by God was now over, and Jesus could now once again enjoy union with the first person of the Godhead in the way that he had done previously, ever since before the creation of the world.
Also of interest is how Jesus uttered these words because, we are told, he cried out in a loud voice when he said them – which, when you think about it, is somewhat surprising given how he had, by then, been hanging on a cross for six long hours. But whilst it shocks us, it points us perhaps to something else that it is vitally important that we realise about Jesus’ death – specifically, that he was in complete control of it.
Why do I say that? Well firstly because, as is plain from the countless Old Testament prophecies that predicted it so accurately, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ was nothing other than what God had always planned to take place. Furthermore, whilst it might have seemed to those who were conducting Jesus’ execution, that it was they who were running the show, even the seemingly inconsequential things that they freely chose to do were, at the same time, all preordained by the sovereign creator of the universe.
Nor were those who wanted Jesus to be killed in control of the day that he actually died. Of significance is the fact that Jesus’ crucifixion coincided with the Feast of Passover, the Jewish festival that recalled their deliverance from Egypt some 1500 years previously. Back then, the Israelites had sacrificed lambs whose blood, when daubed on the doors of their homes, ensured that God’s judgment would ‘pass over’ them and so ensure that their households would be spared the consequence of God’s anger, that their families would not suffer the death of the first born son. But this historic event was always meant to point forward to the greater sacrifice that took place on the first Good Friday, the day when the blood of the Lamb of God would be shed, when God’s only Son would die so as to secure the forgiveness of those who availed themselves of the salvation it secured.
No wonder then that God scheduled it to occur at the time of Passover and that, despite that being the one time those plotting Jesus’ death didn’t want him to die, [Mark 14:2] it nonetheless happened just when it did.
And lastly, we need to recognise that though Jesus was killed, he didn’t have his life taken from him – rather he gave it up of his own accord [John 10:18]. Matthew tells us that, rather than having it snatched form him, Jesus ‘yielded up his spirit’ [Matthew 27:50] – which tallies perfectly with Jesus’s own words when he described himself as the good shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep [John 10:11].
Jesus then was in complete control as he hung on the cross that day. He could have saved himself, just as those who mocked him suggested he should – but instead he chose, at just the right time to die for the ungodly [Romans 5:6] – a perfect demonstration of God’s love for his people.
So then, as Jesus died, he purposely bowed his head as he gave up his spirit [John 19:30]. And as we commit ourselves into our Heavely Father’s care, we should bow our heads too – in worship of the one who, whilst we were still sinners, died for us [Romans 5.8].
Related blogs:
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 6 – ‘It Is Finished’, click here
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 5 – ‘I Thirst’, click here.
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 4 – ‘My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?’, click here.
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 3 – ‘Mother, behold your son! Behold your Mother!’, click here
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 2 – ‘Tomorrow, you will be with me in paradise’, click here
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 1 – ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’, click here.
To read ‘Why do bad things happen to good people? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Good Friday’, click here
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted – sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
The gospel accounts of Jesus’ crucifixion record seven things that he said whilst hanging on the cross. The sixth is found in John 19:30 where we read that Jesus said, ‘It is finished.’
I wonder what those who heard Jesus say these words thought he meant. No doubt there would have been some who believed that he was simply confirming what was all too apparent to those witnessing the crucifixion – that his life was now drawing to a close, brought to its untimely end by an unimaginably barbaric form of execution. But there may have been others who would have interpreted his words differently. Because there were some who had hoped that Jesus would lead an uprising that would result in the Romans being expelled from their country. And so, on hearing him say ‘It is finished, they may have imagined that Jesus was finally admitting what they had already come to realise – that the eagerly anticipated revolution was over – before it had ever really begun.
But that wasn’t what he meant at all – for with those three words, Jesus was referring to something of far greater significance. Because, as would become apparent just three days later, Jesus’ life was not at an end – and neither was his kingdom.
Jesus had previously said that his kingdom was not of this world [John 18:36], and so, unlike those who seek to extend their borders by oppressing their neighbours with violence, Christ’s everlasting kingdom was always going to be one that would be established and maintained by love. Even before the creation of the world, it had always been God’s plan to rescue his people by sending his Son to die as an atoning sacrifice for their sin.
And that is why, having completed what he willingly came to do, Jesus made an announcement. ‘It is finished,’ he said.
Because as the sky turned black, God was pouring out his righteous anger for every sin that would ever be committed by those who would one day turn to him in repentance. And it wasn’t just the past sins of Christians that were being dealt with that day – on the contrary, as Jesus died in their place, all of their future sins were being atoned for too. Furthermore, because God’s wrath wasn’t merely being deflected away from us but rather, was fully absorbed by Jesus, not a drop of it remains to subsequently reemerge and fall on us at some point in the future.
It is not arrogant then for Christians to be sure of their place in heaven, for they are not trusting in their own merit to get there. Rather, recognising their own unworthiness, they know that they are saved by grace, the undeserved kindness of God, manifested through the Son he lovingly sent into the world to not only die for them, but also to live for them a perfect life. Because, whilst his death paid the price for their sins, Jesus’ sinless life, having been credited to Christians as if they had lived it themselves, provides for them a perfect righteousness that makes them acceptable in His sight. That is the gospel – not a list of rules that we are demanded to keep, but good news regarding what Jesus has already done for us. So then, it is only by recognising that we contribute nothing to our salvation, other than our sin that makes it necessary, that we can be confident that our sins really are forgiven, and our place in heaven really is assured.
And were further evidence needed, the fact that Jesus’ saving work is confirmed in the book of Hebrews where we read that, ‘having offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, Jesus sat down at the right hand of God, because by a single offering he had perfected for all time those who were being sanctified.’ [Hebrews 10:12-14].
No further sacrifice is therefore required. Jesus’ work was complete, the job was done, and there was nothing more that he needed to do. It really was finished – which is why there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ. [Romans 8:1]
But having heard this wonderfully good news, how shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation? That is the question that the writer of the letter to the Hebrews asks his readers to consider – and one that we would all do well to consider too. And having done so, we should surely come to the same conclusion as two of Jesus’ earliest followers who recognised the uniqueness of Jesus and what he achieved for us on the cross. The first was Paul, who spoke of Jesus as the only mediator between God and man [1 Timothy 2:5], and the second was Peter, who said that, other than Jesus, ‘there is no other name under heaven by which we must be saved’ [Acts 4:12].
But they weren’t alone in believing what they did, because there was somebody else who thought that Jesus was the only way to heaven too. And that was Jesus himself – the one who said:
‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’ [John 14:6]
Related blogs:
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 5 – ‘I Thirst’, click here.
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 4 – ‘My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?’, click here.
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 3 – ‘Mother, behold your son! Behold your Mother!’, click here
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 2 – ‘Tomorrow, you will be with me in paradise’, click here
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 1 – ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’, click here.
To read ‘Why do bad things happen to good people? Sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Good Friday’, click here
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted – sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
The gospel accounts of Jesus’ crucifixion record seven things that he said whilst hanging on the cross. The fifth is found in John 19:28 where we read that Jesus said, ‘I thirst.’
Now there may be some who might be tempted to say, ‘So what?’ in response to being told how Jesus expressed that he was thirsty during his crucifixion. After all, surely it is only to be expected that Jesus would want a drink after having hung on a cross for almost six hours. Even so, these words of Jesus are worth a closer look – and not only because his experiencing thirst was predicted in ancient psalms written almost a thousand years earlier – both in Psalm 22, that we considered yesterday, and in Psalm 69, where it is further prophesied that he would be given ‘sour wine’ to drink, something that we read was fulfilled in John 19:30.
Something else that we need to recognise from the fact that Jesus was thirsty is just how human he was. There is an earthliness to Jesus’ tongue sticking to the sides of his mouth because of how dehydrated he was [Psalm 22:15], and it reminds us that, as well as being 100% God, Jesus was also 100% man. Which, though impossible for us to fully comprehend, is nonetheless important, because it was only as a consequence of him being fully human that Jesus was able to be a suitable sacrifice for sinful men and women – those who, though made in the image of God, were no longer able to fully reflect his perfect holiness as a result of their rebellion against him,
And so it was that ‘though he was in the form of God, Jesus did not count equality to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on the cross.’ [Philippians 2:6-8]
But there is more to be appreciated from Jesus’ words than the fact that they both fulfil prophecy and point to his paradoxically being both fully human and fully divine. Because the scriptures frequently describe how Jesus gives up things that we require, things that, because of his sacrifice, are subsequently made available to us. And so, just as we are told that he became sin so that we might become righteous [2 Corinthians 5:12], that he suffered so that we might escape judgement, [Isaiah 53:5], and that he died so that we might have eternal life [John 3:16], so too are we told that by his becoming thirsty we are invited to drink.
It is not, however, sour wine that we are offered. On the contrary we are invited to drink the ‘living water’ that is so satisfying that those who drink it, Jesus said, would never go thirsty again. [John 4:13]
Now, if you are wondering where to find this liquid refreshment, you will be interested to hear the answer Jesus gave to a Samaritan woman who asked the self-same question. Jesus said to her that, if we thirst, we should go to him and drink [John 7:37], and that having drunk the living water that only he can provide, it will become in us a spring of water welling up to eternal life. [John 4:14].
After Jesus had died, but whilst he was still hanging on the cross, John records how, in order to confirm that he really was dead, a soldier pierced Jesus’ side with a spear ‘and at once there came out blood and water’ [John 19:34]. The blood was the blood that he shed for the forgiveness of our sins, and the water is a reminder of the eternal life that only his death can bring about.
So then, let Jesus’ thirst be the means by which you yourself are refreshed. Let his death be the means by which you live. Draw near to him in faith – believing what he says is true and recognising all that he achieved for you on the cross. Receive his forgiveness for all that is in your past, trust him to sustain you in all that troubles you today, and hope in all that he has promised for your future. Come if you are thirsty, come to the living water that only Jesus can give you.
Drink you fill – and let your soul live.
Related blogs:
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 4 – ‘My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?’, click here.
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 3 – ‘Mother, behold your son! Behold your Mother!’, click here
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 2 – ‘Tomorrow, you will be with me in paradise’, click here
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 1 – ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’, click here.
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted – sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
The gospel accounts of Jesus’ crucifixion record seven things that he said whilst hanging on the cross. The fourth is found in Matthew 27:46 and Mark 15:34 where we read that Jesus said, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’
These words must be amongst the most agonising ever spoken and, at the same time, amongst the most profound. Because for God the Son to have been abandoned by God the Father, two separate members of the triune God who are, at the same time, united as one in the Trinity, is far beyond our human capabilities to understand, and all the more so when one considers how perfectly both the Father loves the Son, and the Son loves the Father.
Even so, as a supernatural darkness covered the land, these are the words that Jesus uttered – words that express something of how it must have felt for him to experience the full weight of God’s wrath being poured out on him who, sinless himself, was bearing the punishment for the sin of those he’d come to save.
For that is what was taking place on the cross that first Good Friday – a glorious exchange was taking place. Our sin was laid on Jesus such that, as he suffered, he was being ‘pierced for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities’ [Isiaih 53:5]. And it was his chastisement that brought us peace with God. Likewise, Jesus’ perfect righteousness was credited to we who believe him to be the Christ, the Son of God and, by believing, have life in his name. Because, for our sake, God made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God’ [2 Corinthains 5:12].
There is though something else of significance that is worth mentioning about these words of Jesus. For as he says them, he is quoting the opening verse of Psalm 22, a psalm that, despite being written nearly a thousand years previously, accurately predicted the nature of Jesus’ death long before crucifixion had ever been considered as a form of execution. But as well as foreseeing that his hands and feet would be pierced, the psalm also speaks of how those who gloated over him would divide his garments amongst them and cast lots for his clothing, how he would be mocked by those who passed by ‘wagging their heads’, and how some would question why, despite trusting in the Lord, Jesus was not spared his terrible ordeal.
But whilst all these ancient prophecies were subsequently fulfilled [Matthew 27:35-43], Jesus was not spared. Nor did he spare himself, as others suggested he should. Instead Jesus allowed himself to be killed so that, by his death, he could save others.
Why? Well because that is the reason he came into the world in the first place, to save sinners. [1 Timothey 3:15]. Because that was his Father’s will – the will that, in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed would be done [Luke 22:42]. And because God loves the world and demonstrates that love by giving his only Son so that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life [John 3:16].
So then, by dying in our place, Jesus propitiated God’s wrath. He demonstrated his Father’s righteousness by satisfying the need for divine justice and thus enabled God to be both just and the justifier of those who have faith in Christ [Romans 3:26]. These were the reasons that Jesus endured the cross and despised the shame that was rightfully ours to bear.
All of which means that, because of what Christ achieved for us on the cross, we no longer need to be ashamed of the shameful things that we’ve done. ‘For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is God’s steadfast love towards those who fear him – and as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us’ [Psalm 103:11-12].
Related blogs:
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 3 – ‘Mother, behold your son! Behold your Mother!’, click here
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 2 – ‘Tomorrow, you will be with me in paradise’, click here
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 1 – ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’, click here.
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted – sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
The gospel accounts of Jesus’ crucifixion record seven things that he said whilst hanging on the cross. The third is found in John 19:26-27 where we read that Jesus said to his mother, ‘Woman, behold your son!’ and to the apostle John, ‘Behold your mother!’
Of all these sayings of Jesus, this is, perhaps, the least well known, but it is nonetheless worthy of some consideration. Bear in mind that Jesus is experiencing unbelievable pain and, having been nailed to the cross for approaching six hours, is now drawing near to his inevitable death. But even as he does so, he is thinking of others – of both his mother Mary and the disciple John, who is the author of this eyewitness account of his crucifixion. And so Jesus speaks of how they are to care for each other over the coming weeks, months, and years.
But we should not just be amazed at how Jesus expresses his concern for others despite his own overwhelming difficulties. Firstly, we should also see how Jesus is honouring his mother in the same way that we, no matter our current age, should honour our own parents. Secondly, we see his concern for Mary, generally believed to be a widow at this point of her life, and how he therefore fulfils another biblical mandate that we too are called to keep, namely to care for widows and orphans in their affliction [James 1:27]. And thirdly, we should note too how Jesus’ followers should consider themselves as part of the same family, the bond between them every bit as strong as that which exists between those who share the same flesh and blood.
Because it is not that we Christians enjoy union only with Christ. Alongside that immense privilege, we are also united to one another, with Christ the head of the body that each and every one of us are a part.
One of the things that I’ve both noticed since starting to work with the Slavic Gospel Association, is how Christians in other countries seem to refer to each other as brothers as sisters far more commonly than we do in the UK, or at least, those part of the country that I most commonly frequent. And they’re right to. Because as Christians we are all a part of God’s family, the family that we have all been adopted into by our loving Heavenly Father. And so, just as we should rejoice with those who rejoice when they are enjoying good things, so too we must weep with those who weep when they are beset with sorrow, like, for example, our brothers and sisters in Christ who live in Ukraine, caught up as they are in the continuing conflict there.*
Jesus’ words also remind us how even those closest to Christ are not immune to sadness, for how great must have been the sorrow experienced by Mary as, stood at the foot of the cross, she saw in all their horrible proximity, the nails which pierced her own son’s hands and feet. Not that it will have come as any surprise to her, for soon after she’d given birth to Jesus, Simeon had predicted that the one who was now nearing his death would be opposed in such a way that a sword would pierce her soul too. [Luke 2:34]
Even so, as she beheld her two sons, both the one that she once laid in a manger, and the one who from that very hour took her into his home, she was seeing the one who would rise from the dead in just three days’ time, and the one who would be the first to bring her the news of his glorious resurrection. [John 20:10]
For Mary then on Good Friday, weeping tarried for the nighttime, but joy came with the dawning of Easter Day. As it will one day also come to all those who long for Christ’s’ return.
The gospel accounts of Jesus’ crucifixion record seven things that he said whilst hanging on the cross. The second is found in Luke 23:43 where we read that Jesus said, ‘Today, you will be with me in paradise.’
His words were in response to a request by a criminal who was guilty of the crimes that he was being justly punished for that day. But despite recognising both his guilt and Jesus’ innocence, the man nonetheless asks Jesus to remember him when he comes into his kingdom. That he should ask to be treated with such undeserved kindness from the sinless son of God is, in its self, remarkable, but the faith of this now penitent thief is all the more astonishing when one considers that the one he is asking for help, is hanging on a cross and about to die too.
But to trust God in situations of apparent hopelessness, is what genuine faith is all about. And when all hope seems lost, it is by believing that God is guaranteed to keep his promises that hope is actually kept alive. Which is why the penitent thief, despite his dire circumstances, was able to make his famous request – and why Jesus was able to give his famous reply. Because Jesus saw in the thief somebody who, by faith, trusted the power of God despite seeing, what to unspiritual eyes, was nothing but weakness, somebody who saw victory where most saw only defeat, and somebody who understood the mysterious paradox of Good Friday.
That on occasions at least, the reasons why bad things happen to good people, is so that good things can happen to bad people. For isn’t that what happened on that first Good Friday – when the worst possible thing, crucifixion, happened to the best possible person, Jesus, so that the best possible things, salvation, can happen to the worst possible people.
People, that is, not only like the penitent second thief, but people like us as well.
Because make no mistake, just as it was possible for that guilty criminal to be forgiven, so it is possible for you and me to be forgiven too. And just as it was possible, even in the last hours of his life for lifelong sinner to start looking forward to being with Jesus in paradise, so it is never too late for any one of us to put our trust in Christ and so start anticipating an eternity in heaven as well.
But there is more that we can learn from the penitent thief. Firstly, we need to realise that, like the one who had no opportunity to clean up his act, our place in heaven can never be earnt. Rather than relying on our own meagre good works, we must instead throw ourselves on the mercy of a gracious God who promises to forgive all those who, acknowledging their sin, turn to him for help. And secondly, we must not imagine that our becoming a Christian will necessarily improve our current situation. On the contrary, things may just get steadily worse – as they did for the penitent thief who, rather than receiving a last-minute reprieve, subsequently had his death hastened when Roman soldiers broke his legs.
Even so, putting our faith in the promise keeping God of the Bible will undoubtedly do us good. For along with it giving us absolute assurance that our sins really have been forgiven, it will also give us great cause to hope that a day really is coming when we will experience, with the penitent thief, what no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined. For we will discover then what God has prepared for those who love him, a place where every tear will be wiped away and death will be no more. [2 Corinthians 2:9; Revelation 21:4]
Related blogs:
To read ‘Some Words for Holy Week: 1 – ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’, click here.
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted – sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
The gospel accounts of Jesus’ crucifixion record seven things that he said whilst hanging on the cross. The first is found in Luke 23:34 where we read that Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.’
So here we have Jesus, asking that God would forgive those who crucified him. And this is not sometime later, having somehow come to terms with what they had done to him, Rather he asks that they be forgiven just moments after they have driven the 9 inch, square edged iron nails into his hands and feet and whilst he is struggling to take his each and every agonising breath.
Which. you have to admit, is pretty remarkable of a man who, irrespective of what you might think of him, cannot be considered by anyone to be a hypocrite. For here Jesus is seen practicing what he preached when, in Matthew 5:44, he urged his followers to ‘love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you’.
But what comfort there is in these words too. Because Jesus is praying for the forgiveness of those guilty of the greatest sin that was ever committed. And if those who rejected Jesus as the Messiah, conspired to have him found guilty of crimes he did not commit, and then saw to it that he suffered the most barbaric of deaths, can be forgiven, then there is hope that God’s grace is sufficient even for us, and that our sins can be forgiven too.
In what sense though did those crucifying Jesus not know what they were doing – for surely, they weren’t unaware of the cruelty that they were guilty of inflicting?
One answer to that question is that they weren’t aware that he was who he had previously said he was. That he’d claimed to be God was something they knew full well, for that, in essence, was why they wanted him to be put to death, but that his claims of divinity were true was something they had manifestly failed to grasp. Even so, as Jesus suffered and subsequently died, there was at least one for whom the penny finally dropped – for as Jesus eventually breathed his last, a centurion who had witnessed his final hours announced what was, in reality, plain for all to see – that ‘truly this man was the Son of God!’
But there was something else that Jesus’ executioners didn’t know they were doing that Good Friday. They were unaware that by crucifying Jesus they were inflicting on him the punishment that they themselves deserved – including for the sin that, in that very moment, they were guilty of committing. For it was only by Jesus’ death, that their guilt could be atoned for. Remarkably then, in asking God to forgive them their sins, Jesus was including the evil act by which that forgiveness was ultimately made possible.
Because what man means for evil, God can mean for good. [Genesis 50:20] This is, without doubt, a paradox, one that is, perhaps, more mysterious than any other – but it is, nonetheless, one that is completely true. A few weeks later the apostle Peter, preaching to a huge crowd, spoke of how Jesus’ death at the hands of lawless men was, at the same time, the result of him being delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God. [Acts 2:23]
And then, having been urged by Peter ‘to repent and be baptised in the name of Jesus Christ’ three thousand people did just that – and in so doing they received the forgiveness that Jesus had asked for when he said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.’
Which is nothing but what we should expect, because ‘the prayer of a righteous man has great power as it is working’ [James 5:16].
Related blogs:
To read ‘What becomes of the broken hearted – sorrowful yet always rejoicing on Palm Sunday’, click here
Some musings 