There is a judgement to come - Why are we waiting? #4

After the tragic shootings in Newtown last week, there's been much  written in the way of response, not least from Christians. Some have attempted to defend God's justice, others to declare his judgement, many simply expressing grief and honest incomprehension. Nearly a week on, I didn't want to try to add anything, or to critique other people's responses. Plenty has been said. But after my last advent post on trusting Jesus' promise to return, I've been reflecting on why it's a good thing that he will return. I've become convinced that Christ's second coming that we look forward to during advent is not just a wacky doctrine for end-of-the-world fanatics, not just a neat solution to tie up the loose ends of the Jesus story, but a truth that speaks to the heart of our suffering and affirms our indignance.

2012 X Factor judges

The New Testament claims that when Jesus returns, it will be as Saviour and Judge. Jesus claims for himself all of God's authority in heaven and on earth, the authority given by the Ancient of Days to the one like a son of man in Daniel 7. I'd always imagined these two roles as separate, as opposites. The 'saviour' part is obviously a good thing, but 'judge' doesn't always have such positive connotations. Judge makes us think of judgementalism, of intolerance and fault-finding, of superiority and criticism. It could make us think of corrupt judges, taking bribes for protecting the powerful. Or perhaps our minds jump to the X Factor judges, commercially minded and equally comfortable  with dishing out both cruelty and flattery.


But recently I read about a judge who changed all those images for me. Joaquim Barbosa, the first black member of Brazil's supreme court, presided over the massive trial responsible for convicting 25 powerful people for offences around money-laundering, bribery and fraud. Barbosa has become something of a national hero for bringing to justice many corrupt politicians and working to end a culture of manipulation, greed and impunity in Brazil's power structures. By his courage in bringing justice to corrupt leaders, Barbosa represents freedom and truth for Brazil's people.

To a world held in the grip of human selfishness, of greed, of addiction, of oppression, and of sheer cruelty, Jesus' promise of judgement speaks that same freedom to all of us.

That Jesus is coming to judge evil once and for all and to free us from its grasp tells us that heinous crimes like that which the world witnessed last Friday matter to God. I hope it's too obvious to have to say, but it means that God hates the suffering caused by such evil. Whatever we might want to argue philosophically about divine impassibility, I'm convinced that the heart of God was broken on Friday, and that it is every day for the suffering that we inflict on one another. It means also then that how I treat other people matters to God, that the way I use my power to love others to love them or to hurt them, matters. From the cutting remark I might make to put another down, through bullying, abuse, rape, murder and genocide, we can be sure that it matters to God, and that we matter to God.

Jesus' coming to judge assures us too that evil does not have the final word. Though we may suffer now for our years on earth, it won't be like this in the eternity that God invites us to share with him. This isn't what we were made for, and our deep sense that 'this is not right' when we witness evil and suffering is entirely justified. We're right. It isn't meant to be like this. It won't be forever. God will have the final say.

When I've thought of Jesus as Saviour and Judge in the past, I've thought of myself as being the "saved" category, saved from the evil 'out there' in the world. I've thought of 'bad people' judged, and 'good people' saved. Yet I know, I know because the cross shows me, that I'm drawing a false dichotomy. I know that on the cross, the evil being judged was the evil in me. See, both salvation and judgement are things which have in some sense already happened and some sense are still to come. On the cross, my sin was judged and justice was done. By faith in Jesus, I've been saved from the penalty of my sin. By faith in Jesus, I'm being set free from the power of my sin. So when Jesus comes again, both salvation and judgement will be complete - I'll be rescued not just from the evil and suffering in the rest of the world, out there, but also set free from the presence of evil, the sin in me. Evil will be finally judged, and I'll be free.

Jesus' return as saviour and judge is good news. It means that evil matters to God. It means that even the smallest pain I feel matters to God. It means the way I treat others matters to God. It means that evil will not have the final word. God does. It won't always be like this. For all who know that they contribute to the suffering in the world, we already have a way to be free from the penalty of sin - by faith in Jesus' death. We have ongoing power to be free from the grip of sin in our lives - by faith in Jesus' resurrection. And we can have certainty that we will be free from the presence of sin and suffering forever - by faith in the promise that Jesus will return as Saviour and Judge.

One more thing though. Jesus' promise to return to end all evil and suffering tells us not to expect that now. We hardly need to be told that God has not yet finally ended our suffering on earth. The fact that we know there is a final judgement to come means that we can ignore those who announce that such tragedies as the Newtown shooting are in some way God's act of judgement. Jesus' himself was asked a similar question in the face of a tragedy - was it judgement for those who suffered? No, he said. But he warned of a judgement to come.

So what of how I live now, while we wait? Well, it means I'll try to remember how much God cares about my actions, my relationships, and my responsibility to show love rather than to cause suffering. It means I'll want to work to free people from their suffering now, to "act justly and show mercy", while knowing that it is God who will ultimately act to right injustice. I'll want to be bold in the face of the evil that does exist, knowing it is God rather than any evil who will have the final say. And I'll want to share with many, many people - all those who want to know - the good news that the penalty for our own sin can be dealt with at the cross, that we can have power over sin through his resurrection, so that when Jesus returns as Saviour and as Judge, we can finally we freed from all evil, both internal and external, for an eternity in God's new creation. Just as it's meant to be.

Taking his word for it - Why are we waiting? #3

I think you have trust issues. 

Don't take it personally. I'm not singling you out, I'm pretty sure most people have trust issues of some sort or another. For some people, it's that they don't trust, at least not easily. Perhaps they've been hurt in the past, and develop a hardened, 'me against the world' attitude. Relationships become full of insecurity and suspicion (you only have to watch Jeremy Kyle's lie detector tests to see countless examples of this). Other people find they trust too easily, quick to believe each new acquaintance is the hero they've been waiting for, and  every new philosophy, self help book or diet is the one that will definitely work, and find themselves disappointed and hurt over and over. Most of us are probably more complex than those two extremes. I, if you're interested, have a tendency to trust people quickly - happily sharing my life story with anyone who seems nice enough - but am equally quick to doubt people, if my experiences, feelings or insecurities in any way suggest that they might not be as genuine as I thought or might not stay true to their word. 

It's no secret that Christianity is all about trust. Numerous conversations with a friend of mine about the reasonableness of Christian faith all boiled down to his conclusion that he couldn't believe in something "just because someone said so", the something in this case being the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, and the someone being the gospel writers. Different Christian traditions might prioritise different reasons for having faith, but it usually seems to come down to "because someone said so" - whether that someone is Biblical authors, early church theologians, Christians we know, or a voice inside ourselves - Christian faith comes down to trusting someone that their message is true. When we talk about having reasonable faith then, a large part of what we mean is that we have good reason for trusting those people. So my conversations with that friend turned to when it might be reasonable to believe something just because someone said so. 

The season of advent, as well as looking forward to Christmas and the birth of Christ, is a time to look forward to his coming again one day. That he would return as judge of the whole world, to finally put an end to evil and to fully bring in God's kingdom on a renewed earth with no more pain and suffering, is a huge promise. If I really believe it, it should have a dramatic effect on the way I live my life now. I want to think more about the effects of that promise on life in the waiting room, but I'll leave those thoughts for another post, because for now, I need to go  back to those reasons for trusting what someone says. If I'm going to let this particular promise change every aspect of my life, I need to be sure that I can take Jesus at his word on this one. So, here are my top five reasons for taking someone at their word:

5. What they say is reasonable and realistic. 
The first thing I'd do is assess whether what someone is saying makes sense, not "pie in the sky" as my mother calls it. Are they promising me money that I know they don't have? Are they promising to make the impossible happen? Or are they telling me something which actually, I find remotely credible? In the case of Jesus promising that he'll return as judge and king, I'd say it would make little sense for anyone else to have said - but if Jesus really is the Son of God, which on the basis of the evidence I've looked at I believe he is, then it makes some sense that he is not done with this world but will return to finish his work and set it right. 

4. The testimony of others agrees. 
When an offer seems to good to be true, or I sense a scam on the internet, the first thing I usually do is Google it. There are forums all over the place where bargain hunters either bear witness to a money off voucher that really did work, or report scams so that others don't fall into the same trap. Of course, herd mentality is exactly what leads whole groups of people to fall victim to hoaxes, all believing because people around them did, but considering the thought out opinions of other people we trust can still be used as a helpful guide. For me, the number of highly intelligent people who have thought about, written about, questioned and yet firmly believed in the promise that Jesus will return over the last 2000 years is reassuring. I know a fair few less intelligent, gullible types have believed it too, but that doesn't invalidate the rational thinking of the others! As I look around me now, the faith of my family and friends who I respect and trust gives me reason to think there must be at least some grounds for believing this promise. 

3. There is evidence of previous promise-keeping form.
It's hard to keep believing the same promise over and over, when you've been let down. The words which used to gain your trust become meaningless when prefaced with "This time, I really promise..." We rely on past form to help us know whether to trust a promise again. On the flip side then, if a promise has been kept in the past, it's much easier to trust that it will be kept again. When it comes to promises and predictions about himself, Jesus has good form. He told his disciples that he would be rejected and killed - less of a promise than a preparatory warning - which turned out to be absolutely true, down to every detail. More than that, he promised that he'd be raised from the dead and again, according to the evidence we have, and the failure of any other theory to explain the evidence satisfactorily, I'm convinced that Jesus also kept this promise. In my personal experience, I've found that every promise Jesus made to his followers has been true in my life - so it makes sense to trust in this big promise too. 

2. The trustworthy character of the promise maker.
C.S. Lewis in his famous trilemma made the case that Jesus was no good moral teacher. Given the claims he made about himself, he had to be 'mad, bad, or God.' The problem for those who dismiss Jesus' claims as absurd is not only that he showed no signs at all of being mentally ill, but also that he displayed a perfect moral character - to the extent that those looking to kill him couldn't even invent stories of his wrongdoing, and instead could only having him arrested for blasphemy: claiming to be God. Which might well be wrong, unless of  course you are God. Having examined him, Pilate could find no wrong in him, and tried to wash his hands of the blood of a man he knew to be totally innocent. As I read the gospels and see the astonishing compassion, humility, love and grace shown by this man, I find myself prepared to trust his promises like I'd trust no other.  

1. Relationship with the promise maker. 
It seems most obvious of all, but it makes all the difference. When someone makes a promise, my relationship with that person plays a huge part in whether I trust them. A promise made in the context of real relationship means something special, there's something at stake. Our friendship acts as the deposit, the guarantee. In the context of relationship, we can constantly probe, test, build up trust through the little things, and find ourselves trusting friends with big things. Jesus promised his followers that in the time between his bodily leaving earth and his return again, he'd send them the Holy Spirit. The New Testament calls the Holy Spirit both the spirit of God and the spirit of Christ, through whom we can have relationship with the Father and the Son now. Paul calls him a "deposit, guaranteeing what is to come". It is the day by day experience of relationship with God in Christ, trusting him with the little things and experiencing his faithfulness, seeing him at work in me and in other Christians, that convinces me that such a huge promise for the future really can be trusted. 

So, if you have trust issues, you're not alone. If you think Jesus' return is a pretty serious promise not to be believed lightly, same here. But it seems to me that according to the tests I usually use to work out if I can trust someone, and if I can take them at their word, this promise of Jesus passes every time. What criteria do you use to decide whether to believe something? What did I miss? Are there instances where you believe, even little things, just because someone says so? Do you think the promise of Jesus' return really does fulfil these criteria or is it just too good to be true? Is it even good at all...? More on that next time.  

"Surely not, Lord!" - Why are we waiting? #2

I've got a lot of sympathy for Jesus' disciples. I find myself using their words, their reactions. I'm reassured by Peter in particular, every time he puts his foot in it. 

Sometimes I read their stories and think ‘what idiots, why don’t they get it?’ Why do they ask such silly questions, why don't they trust Jesus properly? Then I remember. I've got the benefit of hindsight, of two thousand years of Christian thought and tradition, and I don’t get it most of the time. They experienced a whole lot of surprises as they followed Jesus round and as they continued his ministry in the subsequent months; there was a lot of new stuff to get their heads around. It’s not surprising they didn't get it sometimes.

I read yesterday Acts 10, where Peter has a vision of a sheet filled with food previously called unclean, and he’s told to kill and eat. His response is “surely not, Lord!” It makes sense. Surely not, Lord, you can’t be telling me to eat the food I've avoided my whole life. Surely not, Lord, it makes no sense. Surely not, Lord, this wasn't what I expected. The vision Acts 10 isn't the first time Peter had expressed such sentiments. At the memorable incident at Caesarea Philippi recorded in the gospels, when Peter had declared Jesus to be the Christ, Jesus started to death about his necessary suffering and death. Peter’s response was the same “Never, Lord! This shall never happen to you!” (Matt 16:22) There’s the same surprise, shock, repulsion even. Surely not, Lord! This wasn't the plan. Surely not, Lord, I thought you were the Messiah. Surely not.

There’s so much about the gospel story that might be surprising, not least the death and resurrection of the Son of God, and the welcome of  people of all races and backgrounds into God’s family. But perhaps the biggest surprise of all is right at the start, at the moment God becomes man. If we were to take a first look at the baby in the manger, the child of an unmarried mother wriggling in a feeding trough, if we were to forget our hindsight and the millennia of thinking and understanding we've done since, wouldn't that be our reaction too? Surely not, Lord. Surely this isn't how you’re coming to invade human history? Surely this isn't the plan to save the world? Really? This baby?

Advent gives us time to reflect on the wholly surprising and unexpected nature of the incarnation. It’s a time to think of the messianic expectations of the nation into which Christ came, to try to put ourselves in the shoes of those who were longing for God to come and rescue them. To imagine the hopes, the possibilities, the dreams. To feel the shock, the surprise, the awe.... surely not, Lord... really? It’s a time to remember how God, in coming as this poor baby, turned the values and expectations of the world upside down; how the King became a servant, how he who was rich became poor, how he emptied himself. It’s a time to be in awe at the surprising, shocking, perfect plan of God, who did it all that we might become everything he made us to be.

Perhaps it’s a time also to examine my own expectations of what God has planned, for my life, my family, his Church. As I allow myself to hope, to dream of all God might have in store for me, what kind of ministry I might have, the family I might have... perhaps I need to remember how surprising God’s plans have always been. This advent, one challenge I feel is to surrender my plans to him, to be prepared for his ideas to turn mine upside down. As much as I imagine all I’d love to be doing and how I think my gifts could be best used, and all the things I want God to do in me and through me in the coming years, I want to try imagining the unexpected too. What if God has completely different plans? Will I still trust that they’re good and perfect plans? Will I believe that, just as the baby in the manger makes no sense at first glance, or even fourth or fifth glance, when things happen in my life that seem to make no sense, God is still just as in control as he was at the birth of Jesus?

The more I'm convinced that God’s surprising plans are also God’s perfect plans, the more confident I can be that when those surprises come, I won’t need to echo Peter’s “surely not, Lord!” but I’ll be able to say with Mary, when confronted with the biggest surprise of all, “may it be to me as you have said.”

Why are we waiting? #1

Living life at such a fast pace in Oxford doesn’t often leave time for waiting. Waiting for the kettle to boil in the morning feels like a wasted couple of minutes in which I should be unloading the dishwasher or proofreading my essay (both things I only rarely do). Waiting for the end of term is hectic because there’s so much to fit in. Waiting for finals is nerve-wracking and unwelcome and I  sincerely wish they never come. Waiting is a pretty alien concept in the crammed 8 weeks of term.

But Advent this year seems full of waiting. For me personally, starting to explore vocation and ordination is a process which I know will involve years of waiting. In my family, Dad is waiting to get married in less than 5 months. Mum is waiting for doctors to work out what went wrong with her kidney. My sister is waiting for school to end so she can get off to university. There’s a great sense of waiting in the Church too, waiting for the right legislation for women to be allowed to become bishops. Waiting to feel the full consequences of the No vote, waiting to see how we can move forward. Sometimes waiting is an exciting time, but more often than not it feels frustrating, demoralising, and like a waste of time. When we know what we’re heading towards and what we want the outcomes to be, we’re ready to get on and get there. Sometimes we’re held back by circumstances, sometimes by other people, sometimes by paperwork, but rarely by choice. Why are we waiting?

I’m sure there’s more to Advent than this. 

I’m sure there’s more to waiting than impatience and frustration. I’m sure patience really is a virtue, even though I’m not yet sure why. I’m sure there are reasons why we spend December looking forward to Christmas, beyond the need for Christmas lists to be made and turkeys ordered in advance. I’m setting myself the task of reflecting on Advent over the next couple of weeks, to see what light it can shed on these seasons of waiting and to be reminded of all we’re really waiting for. Expect a few short posts under this title as I come across helpful insights from others, and do a bit of reflecting myself. In the mean time, I’d love to hear your thoughts (I’ll probably turn them into a post). Do also point me in the direction of blogs/articles/anything else you’ve seen that has helped you think about Advent. Perhaps by Christmas, I’ll have more of an idea of what this waiting lark is all about.