Alastair's Adversaria

‘Lord teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples’. And he said to them, ‘When you pray, say:

Father, hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
Give us each day our daily bread,
And forgive us our sins,
For we forgive everyone who is indebted to us.
And lead us not into temptation.’ (Luke 11:2-4)

Jesus invites his disciples to address themselves to God as sons; to pray ‘Father…’ There is security and comfort in the assurance that every word which follows reposes in his goodwill to us as children. God is a father to us at all times. Not even our daily sinning puts this relationship into question, such that we would need to be readopted each morning by new confession and faith. We are welcomed as sons, and are permitted to turn our minds to God’s glory and our daily needs before asking for forgiveness.

That said, while assuring us that we are the household of God, Jesus insists that daily confession is necessary and that pardon is conditional — ‘for we forgive everyone who…’. How can this be? Has not God already remembered our sin no more — Jeremiah 31:34?

But confessing sins to God as sons is a very different thing to pleading in court with God the accuser or begging for mercy before God the vengeful warrior. Our sins are visible to God, but the context has dramatically transformed itself: God has forgotten our sins before the court-room and on the battlefield and he now addresses them in the family home. When we sin, he restores us to himself; when he punishes us, it is not in vengeance but for our good (as when Nathan said to David ‘The Lord has put away your sin; you shall not die. Nevertheless, because by this deed you have utterly scorned the Lord the child who is born to you shall die’ — 1 Samuel 12:13-14).

Our Father’s forgiveness is liberal and gracious. This should put us, his sons, to shame when we consider our miserly, calculating version. And all the more, because while ‘forgiveness is to man the plainest of duties; to God it is the profoundest of problems’ (Carnegie Simpson — quoted by John Stott in The Cross of Christ). Quite rightly, Jesus does not expect us to ask for forgiveness from God while with-holding it from others. So let’s confess our sins with assurance to God, forgiving each other liberally, because God is our Father.

John Aldis is Alastair’s cousin. This is his greatest achievement. He works in Paris for the International Fellowship of Evangelical Students. After studying theology he is hoping to work in West-Africa as a pastor or Bible teacher.

“A lot of people won’t take no for an answer. I just wanted you to know that I’m not one of them. I can be easily discouraged. I will take no for an answer.” — spoken by the character Josh Neff in The Last Days of Disco.

What exactly happens when you “share the gospel” with someone? What is it that you hope will happen? I imagine that most christians hope that the other will say, “yes, you are right, I DO need to repent of my sins and turn exclusively to Jesus for my salvation and guidance. How soon can I be baptized and join your church?”

I had the good fortune a number of years ago to hear Os Guinness speaking on evangelism, and he shared an idea, or rather a vivid picture, of an alternative way to think about this issue. He said we could picture people as being somewhere along a one dimensional meaure where -100 would be as opposed to the gospel as possible, 100 would be a fully matured believer, and 0 the point of acceptance of the gospel. He then added that most works on evangelism focus exclusively on dealing with people who are at -1 or -2 and getting them across that threshold. He suggested, instead, that perhaps we should be content, in some or many cases, to move people from -60 to -50. Our work is not to “save” people, but merely to announce the Word to them, and anything bring them closer to understanding and receiving is a good work.

How do we go about this? Guinness suggested, I think wisely, that much of this can be done by asking people challenging questions. Jesus does this quite often in the gospel stories. However, I don’t want this simply to be a recapitulation of Mr Guinness’s lecture, so I will point toward another method employed by Jesus.

In John chapter 1, verses 35 through 38 we have the following:

The next day as John stood there again with two of his disciples, Jesus went past, and John looked towards him and said, “Look, there is the lamb of God.” And the two disciples heard what he said and followed Jesus. Jesus turned round, saw them following and said, “What do you want?” They answered, “Rabbi”—which means Teacher—“where do you live?”—NJB

I hope I’m not badly misinterpreting this passage, but it strikes me that Jesus sees these people who obviously WANT to follow him and asks them, “Exactly what do you think you are doing?” This is known in the sales technique world as the “take away”. The idea is that one can build interest and/or curiosity by suggesting that the prospect wouldn’t really be the right person for what you have to offer. The works by triggering the prospect to think “I need to show him that I AM good enough/qualified enough for this thing.”

Perhaps this might also be familiar to you from watching old martial arts films. When the young man in the film needs to pursue his vengence on the evil warlord, he seeks out a great martial arts teacher who can instruct him on the proper techniques for kicking, umm, well sometimes just kicking. The teacher sends the youth away. The youth is persistent enough to be accepted by the teacher, only to be put under a strenuous regime which seems to have little to do with fighting skills. This serves to build up the strength and will of the young man so that he can achieve excellence in kung-fu, or whatever.

I’m not sure I have ever seen this method proposed as an evangelistic strategy, but I’m enough of a contrarian to think it might be worth pursuing. I would certainly love to hear from anyone who either has ideas on how such a strategy could work or from someone who has actually tried it. Two situations occur to me where such a strategy might possibly be appropriate.

First, the use of curiosity to build interest. This needs to be done VERY carefully. One simple application is as an intro to some sort of evangelistic event (this could include something as simple as a small group Bible study). The way it works is by inviting someone with the opening, “I don’t know if this would be your sort of thing . . .” or “I don’t even know if this would interest you, but . . .” This has to be followed by something which might generate some interest, but you should NOT go into great detail about what to expect. The less you say, the more the other is free to imagine. A simple statement to get interest might be, “my wife and I have really enjoyed/expect to enjoy this and we though you (and your wife if applicable) might like it as well.” Perhaps a bit more than that, but again, shorter is better.

Second would be the sort of situation Jesus was in. Folks seem to show some sort of interest in Jesus, and what do we normally do? We pounce, invite them to everything under the sun, treat them like a tiny bit of tinder which might go out at any moment. Perhaps we really should go the opposite direction. Rather than trying to answer all their questions, whatever those might be, we should challenge them to develop their own reasons. The only ideas people ever really believe, it is said, are those they develop on their own. Again, as Jesus did, focus on questions. Asking questions does two things. It helps you get a better sense of where the other person really is, and it helps them to think through things for themselves.

Again, I would love to know how these things have worked, or will work for you. Feel free to comment here or drop me an email at paulthepianoman @ yahoo dot com.

God’s blessings on all of you as you strive to follow Jesus.

Paul is a father, husband and piano technician living in Mebane, North Carolina. He also is a member of Church of the Good Shepherd (PCA) in Durham where he helps with music and with youth ministry.

I wonder if any of Alastair’s readers engage in Lent disciplines. Probably you’re all very reformed and if you do anything, it’s probably reading through the whole bible (or Calvin’s Institutes) in six weeks. But for the average man on the Clapham omnibus, the most common Lent discipline is still ‘giving something up.’

I’ve done this in the past, and it’s hard. Whether it’s chocolate or the internet, those six weeks can feel like a very long time when you’re always thinking of the thing you’re missing. But at least you know it’s only for a limited time and you can gorge yourself come Easter Day. It’s infinitely harder to give things up permanently. Try asking anyone who’s ever stopped smoking.

Jesus calls his followers to give up much more than the occasional treat, or favourite pastime. He calls us to give up everything most dear to us – even our own most dearly loved families and homes. That’s scary. But, as always with the Lord, the promise offered to those who take up the call is so great as to overwhelm the hardship we may suffer.

Peter began to say to him, “See, we have left everything and followed you.”

Jesus said, ‘Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands, for my sake and for the gospel, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this time, houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions, and in the age to come eternal life.

(Mark 10:28-30)

However generously we give of what we have to follow the Lord, he is more generous in what he gives back to us.

These words of Jesus have been close to my heart for the last couple of years as I have been thinking about the decision to move to America and they have been a great comfort to me now that I am here. I’m not a natural traveller, I have no curiosity about life on the other side of the world and moving here has felt like a big sacrifice in terms of relationships with the people and places I know and love.

But Jesus’ promise has proved itself true. There are people here who are to me as brother and sister, mother and father. There are places that are becoming important to me as I build a history with them. For everything that I have given up, he has given me back manifold.

From here:

to here:

and from these dear friends:

to these:

Hard as it has been to make this move, still Peter’s words are a rebuke to me. I have not ‘left everything’ to follow Jesus. Neither in my sinful heart, nor in my material life do I feel anything like this sense of full abandonment. So I pray that this Lent season will be one of learning to leave everything behind to follow him.

…and in the age to come, eternal life.

For now, the blessings Jesus promises are mingled with the hardships and persecutions he also warns of. Part of what Peter expresses is that we remember, and in our hearts hold onto, what we have given up. Like those who have given up chocolate for Lent eyeing the Crème Egg with longing, we let our minds linger on the job, the home, the family, the car, whatever might-have-beens we hold most dear. And these loom largest when the life of following Christ is hardest, when the promised persecutions hurt deepest.

So it’s wonderful that this promise doesn’t end with the fulfilment in this age. There is an age to come which won’t be marked by persecution or by wistful longing. There will be no homesickness then, for we will be at home with the Lord, forever. There will be no one to wrest us away from our families or our lands. There will be no sickness, nor mourning, nor crying nor pain.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

Ros Clarke is an OT PhD student at Westminster Theological Seminary and Scholar in Residence at Cresheim Valley Church. All of which cuts down on time for sewing, knitting and watching American Idol. You can find out more about her thoughts on the bible, life and the weirdness of America at http://ihaveaquestion.blog.co.uk.

Matthew’s “Sermon on the Mount” is, in my estimation, the most intriguing and fascinating of texts. I’ll leave aside the dicey issue of the historicity of the “Sermon” and simply address its significance for modern Christians, pilgrims in this world, passing through to the next, and struggling both to make it through and make a difference.

And that, in my estimation, is exactly what the Sermon on the Mount is all about: both making it through this life as a disciple of the Risen Lord and leaving the world, when death claims us, a bit of a better place.

The ethic of the Sermon is the ethic of love for God bound together with love for one another. “You have heard it said… but I say to you”; “Blessed are the pure in heart”; “But I say to you, do not be angry…”; “Do not condemn…”; “Our Father, in heaven…”. These, and so many of the other segments of the Sermon, urge us, as His disciples, on to a better sort of life than what we normally settle for.

The Sermon, after all, is a challenge to be different; to act differently and think differently and live differently than the world acts and thinks and lives. If we believers, we folk who call ourselves His people, took the Sermon to heart, the world really would be a better, different place. Better because different. And different because better. This is, after all, not the best of all possible worlds. The world where the Sermon on the Mount is practiced by all the people of God is.

Perhaps, then, Lent is the perfect time to evaluate our own willingness to adhere to this Sermon, putatively spoken on a Mountain. Which, if lived, would raise the low places to the heights.

Dr. Jim West is the pastor of Petros Baptist Church and a biblioblogger extraordinaire. He blogs at http://drjimwest.wordpress.com/ and runs the Biblical Studies Resources website. Regular topics of conversation on his blog include developments in biblical scholarship, scandals within the Church, the superiority of all things Swiss (especially Zwingli), and the evil that is Chris Tilling.

Then one from the crowd said to Him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.” But He said to him, “Man, who made Me a judge or an arbitrator over you?” And He said to them, “Take heed and beware of covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of the things he possesses.” Then He spoke a parable to them, saying: “The ground of a certain rich man yielded plentifully. And he thought within himself, saying, ‘What shall I do, since I have no room to store my crops?’ So he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build greater, and there I will store all my crops and my goods. And I will say to my soul, “Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years; take your ease; eat, drink, and be merry.”’ But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul will be required of you; then whose will those things be which you have provided?’

“So is he who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God.” — Luke 12:13-21

Christ said that it is foolish simply to build bigger barns in this world. I work in one of the richest areas in the whole of Europe, possibly the world – the City of London. People here are building huge, gigantic, massive ‘barns’ out of their recent bonuses right now: over 4000 people in The City are said to have earned over £1,000,000 just in bonuses this last year. And yet happiness and contentment are not noticeably on the increase because of it, as even secular economists like Richard Layard (see his recent book Happiness: Lesons from a new science) have noted. If anything, people are more miserable because someone else is obviously earning more than them! And there are still too few who have any idea about the coming Final Audit when their souls will be required of them.

God said to the rich man in the parable: “You fool!” A more poetic reflection on this is provided by 17th century poet Thomas Traherne in his masterpiece The Apostacy: