One of the women companions of Jesus reflects on a change of mood:

There has been such an air of excitement ever since the crowd returned.  Even Jesus has been caught up in it.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so joyful – so delighted – no matter how many laughs we have shared together in the past.  Clearly something has changed, and it has really lifted his heart!

Even before they left, I sensed that things were changing.

For a start, the sheer number that Jesus enrolled and sent out was a new thing.  It wasn’t just the twelve this time, but maybe seventy or there abouts. I’m not sure exactly…  it may have been a couple more, who knows?  (No doubt someone will have counted and found something symbolic in the number – they always do!)  For my part it reminded me of Moses appointing the seventy elders to share his duties.  I thought Jesus was making a wise move doing much the same.

Now, obviously, I didn’t know all of them personally.  So, I can’t tell their names.  Nor where they came from, even.   What I can tell you, is that Jesus chose them and sent them out. That will have to be enough.  If you or I can’ t name them, what does that really matter?  Jesus has assured them that their names are written in Heaven. (That sounds good to me!)

And yet, they were in a very subdued mood when they departed.  Clearly, they were nervous and feeling very vulnerable.  Jesus understood this; admitting that he was sending them out like lambs among a pack of hungry wolves!  So, he did his best to prepare them, giving them detailed instructions about what to expect, and what and what not to do or say.  It wasn’t going to be easy, but he was certain they would find people ready to welcome them and their message. These were the ones they should seek out. 

Jesus himself seemed to have taken on a new sense of urgency.   That is why he sent out so many.  That is why he instructed them to not allow themselves to be side-tracked in conversation along the way.  That is why he told of terrible consequences for those who rejected the messengers, while at the same time urging his followers not to put off by the first rejection.  Instead, they were to keep on going until they found the ones who were ready to welcome them and hear his message of peace.

Some how it felt that a dark cloud had settled over everyone, and Jesus was urging them to hurry about their mission before the rains came pouring down.

But, as they began to trickle back from their journeys, it soon became obvious that the cloud had passed. The mood began to shift rapidly.  They had found a welcome, each returning pair eagerly reported.   And, as more and more gathered, the relieved laughter of the group grew louder as they shared their stories.  It had not been as they feared and expected.  Even the demons, it seemed, had fled before them!

It was at this point that Jesus joined the euphoria.   ‘You saw demons fleeing?  Well, I saw Satan falling from his throne!’  

Never have I seen a group of people so lifted as when they heard him say that!  On the face of it, they had only visited a few small villages and shared the message with a mere handful of people but, never-the-less, what they had done clearly brought Jesus such joy.  As he celebrated, he opened their eyes to see the huge significance of it all.  The hold of hell had been broken!  Satan’s lies had been exposed!

How can that be, you might ask?   

Well, what was it the message Jesus sent them out with? ‘Peace be with you!’   You’d reckon most people would like that, wouldn’t you?  But if you think like that, then, I’m sorry, but you have not understood the mindset of our time.    Most people hereabouts do not want peace.  They want war.  They are caught up in a deception that tells them the only way to freedom is through violence and killing. They hope and pray every day for a Messiah who will lead his people to wipe the Romans from the face of the earth.  We are God’s people. This is God’s land.  So, we will rise up for God and country with God on our side!   

But this is a lie!  It is Satan’s deception!   Although, most of us don’t see it that way.  As a nation we have been fed the propaganda and bought it wholesale.  Jesus’ counter message is not popular.  It sounds like unpatriotic doom-mongering to most.  He warns that, unless we turn, we are on a pathway heading to our own destruction!  But will we listen?  Are we ready to welcome his way of Salvation?  Are we ready to embrace his Kingdom of peace?

Today we have discovered that some are!  

It may be hidden from the wise and powerful, and many may reject it still, but in every town and village there are those who see it and welcome it.  God has opened their eyes to the truth.  Satan’s lies are exposed.

‘No-one will listen!’, he whispers. 

‘You will be rejected!’, he plays on our fear.

‘Not so’, says Jesus. ‘The field is ripe for harvest; it’s the labourers who are in short supply!  Pray for more messengers willing to make themselves vulnerable in order to share Christ’s message of peace!’

And this willingness to be vulnerable is, I believe, the key.    He sends us out, not on some crusade or holy war; not armed to the teeth, kitted out with all the latest fire-power to overcome every enemy; but empty handed, reliant on hospitality, offering only his peace.   

This is the way of his Kingdom.  Today we have seen it.  Those who dare to go, despite fear and trepidation, come back rejoicing.  And Jesus rejoices too!

One of the disciples reflects on Jesus’ apparently harsh behaviour:

So, you think we were harsh, do you, trying to call down fire on those villagers just for refusing us a bit of refreshment?  But have you never stopped to think about Jesus and what he said afterwards?  No, I don’t mean the telling off he gave us.  I think we can all agree that was well deserved. I mean his teaching that followed? 

Sometimes, as they say, Jesus ‘does not take any prisoners!’   His teaching is forthright and demanding. On occasions, to be honest, it is brutal.  It’s like a two-edged sword that cuts deep.  No one can listen without being cut and wounded.  Our friend, Dr Luke, tells us that Jesus talks like a surgeon operates… the pain is unavoidable, but when he draws blood, it is to bring healing, not harm.  You can’t be squeamish about that, he says, because sometimes healing does involve radical surgery; amputation even!

I am not sure I’m comfortable with that teaching method, myself!  I mean, some people deserve a simpler, more sensitive approach, don’t they?

Take, for instance, that lad who came promising to follow Jesus anywhere.  You’d think Jesus would have been happy with that, wouldn’t you?   I mean, I would have welcomed him with open arms… clapped him on the back and, with a big hug, led him along the way.  But not Jesus.  Instead, he stops dead in his tracks and eye-balls the fellow, saying something about foxes having their holes and birds their nests, but the son of man having no-where to rest his head.     Er… I mean, I’d be mystified by that response, wouldn’t you?!  It’s not surprising that the poor fellow stood there non-plussed, wondering just what that meant and what he should do!  I don’t think we have seen him around much since then, and who can blame him?

Now, when I told some of the others, who knew Jesus better, they smiled knowingly and jibed; “Haven’t you noticed that Jesus is not at all into grand gestures and gushing enthusiasm?   We’ve seen that burn out enough times already, haven’t we?  How many have joined us for a distance and then fallen by the way?  They’re like that seed sown on shallow stony soil, Jesus told us about. Weren’t you listening?  It grows up tall so quickly but soon withers in the heat because it’s not deep rooted.   Jesus does not want disciples like that.  He’d rather they know what they getting into than be swept along and follow on a whim.”

They were right, of course.  But even they could not quite get their heads round what Jesus told another fellow he invited to come and join us.

This guy was, no doubt, up for it. But he had a responsibility to deal with first. More than that; a sacred obligation.  His father was old and dying.  He needed to be with him.  “Let me go and care for my father now and when he is gone, I’ll be free to come and follow you!”

You’d think Jesus, of all people, would have been sympathetic!   Did he not, after all, teach us to honour our parents and to love and care one another?  How, then, could he come back, so callously, with “Let the dead bury their own dead.”?   Was Jesus so single-mindedly ‘task focussed’ and determined at the time, that he had momentarily forgot all compassion ?   It certainly sounded like it!  But, then, how heartless and out of character was that?

Actually, thinking about it, I’m sure it wasn’t that at all!  I know of no-one kinder and more compassionate than Jesus. He more than anyone, would understand the pressures of caring for others, and he was never one for encouraging us to shirk our responsibilities.  

And yet, I also know no-one who can read a person better than Jesus.  His insight is unequalled!  Taking this into account, it dawns on me that Jesus was not, actually, responding inappropriately to a man who was grieving.   He was right on the ball in responding to a man who was making excuses! 

Disingenuously, this man was drawing on the heart strings and making himself look like a good and caring son, while really employing the oldest delaying tactic in the book.  We can all do it: “When this happens… then I’ll be free to follow!”  “When the children leave home…. When I retire… when I get the house sorted out… If I didn’t have this responsibility or that… then I would be able to follow” Oh really?!  But what excuse would we be finding then?!    Sometimes it takes quite a slap to bring us back to our senses!   If we are always finding reasons for putting off until tomorrow what we should be doing today, then do we need a harsh word to prompt a deep and honest look at ourselves?  Maybe so!

There was another guy who asked far less than this last malingerer.  All this one wanted to do was to go and say goodbye to his friends and family, and Jesus came back hard on him! 

 “You’ll never make it in the world like that!” Jesus told him “You have to set your eyes forwards if you want to plough a straight furrow. Looking back all the time is only going to cause a mess!”

If you have ever seen a field ploughed by a distracted amateur, you’ll know exactly what Jesus means! The rows are all higgledy-piggledy and not much good for sowing at all!

A so it is, a life spent looking back at all the what-ifs and maybes is always going to be a dissatisfied and disjointed one.  Yes, we can all wear rose tinted spectacles, and the allure of ‘the Good-old-days’ may have us romanticising what might have been.  But all that is a deception, not just a distraction.  It’s like we are mistaking a sunset for a sunrise.  If we walk towards it, we will soon be lost in darkness.

So, in retrospect, Jesus was not being compassionless and uncaring at all.   Oh, he certainly does not pull his punches!  But, if he is harsh, at least he is honest.  And he calls for that same kind of honesty when dealing with ourselves. Discipleship and self-deceit do not go well together!

And one thing Jesus wants us to be sure about is this: following him is not the easy option.   It requires focus, commitment and determination.  There will be sacrifice.  We may well have to leave a lot that is precious behind.   

So, yes, there is a sense in which we have to be ruthless with ourselves. None of this is for the feint-  or half-hearted.  Yet it is not harshness, but love that drives him to tell us so.

first posted June 2021 under Mark 4

one of the disciples who hadn’t been a fisherman reflects:

Ok, Ok – I can see it in your eyes! But please do me a favour and don’t ask! Just, don’t ask!

Yes, I am supposed to be away on holiday.

And yes, it was only yesterday that we left.

And no, I hadn’t expected to be back so soon.

And no – No I definitely do NOT want to talk about it.

So just don’t ask, OK!

Just leave me alone and let me get on with my own business, will you?

I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have snapped like that.  It’s just that I’m rather tired …It’s been a long day and quite a night.  Humph!  Some holiday that turned out to be!

It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it.  It’s more that I don’t really know what to say and think.  Oh, of course, I am disappointed – but I am also confused.

I have seen some incredible things – some really incredible things….

Do you know, I really longed for that holiday?

All that pushing and shoving and the Master being in constant demand was draining.

Oh, it’s nice to be in the limelight for a little while. Every one loves their five minutes of fame (even if it is reflected glory, for it was Jesus they really came to see).  Yes, it was fun for a while.  But then it began to wear rather thin.  You can have enough of crowds; enough of the attention; enough of the demands and people’s hopes and need.   I for one am glad to get away from it all when I can.  So, when Jesus said ‘Come on lads, let’s get the boat out and go the other side of the lake for a while’, you can just imagine how I felt.  My heart was sailing before we’d even left the shore!

For the first few hours, it was wonderful! 

Andrew, James and John were in their element and Peter joked around, teasing them for ‘sloppy seamanship’, as he naturally took control. 

Jesus left them to it.  Wise man.  This was their territory, and no-one should try and compete with a fisherman at sea. 

What’s more, Jesus was exhausted.  He sat for a while like the rest of us, watching the waves lap gently at the bow, breathing the cool sea air, absorbed in the sunset as it slowly turned the mountains a perfect mixture of purple and gold.  Awesome!

Some playful banter from one of the other boats finally broke the spell, and Jesus moved to the back of the boat, pulled up a pillow, and was out like a light.  Sleeping so deeply that you’d think nothing would ever wake him.

And it didn’t, either – the storm.

Blew up just like that, it did.  Cold mountain air sweeping down, funnelled through the deep river gorges – it hit us with such sudden and incredible force.  I’d heard the others talk about things like this, but never really believed it could happen.  I can tell you now; it does! And it’s scary (to say the least!)

I took one look at Peter’s face, and knew I was right to be worried.   There was more than a trace of fear in that experienced seaman’s expression – so I found no comfort there.  Not that I blame him. The sea was bubbling like it was about to boil over – so churned up it was.  The boat was being thrown this way and then that, as Peter and Andrew struggled together to get the sail down.  And then James and John exploded like the thunder they’re named after – the one going at the other for some mistake or other as rising panic was expressed in shouting and argument.

And all the while, Jesus, in the back, slept on!

I have never been so terrified in my life, but Jesus, in the back, slept on!

Although, not for long.

The effect of the rising panic was contagious.  We struggled with everything we had got to keep the boat upright, fighting for our very lives – and he slept on!   How could he?!  I looked down at his sleeping form, and the fear that filled me turned to rage.  We were about to die, and he had not lifted even a finger to help!  What did he think he was playing at?  This was no time for sleeping!  “Wake up, Lord, don’t you care?”  “Wake up, Lord, don’t you care?”

The moment we woke him, he stood and faced the storm.  With a voice that could command legions, he ordered the sea and the storm to be still and …..

I sat down terrified.  The boat still, the sea perfectly calm – just like that!

Had I fallen asleep and dreamt up the whole thing – the storm, the fear and the panic a horrible nightmare?  Surely not!  Our skin was soaked and our muscles ached.  This had really happened! 

There was a shout from one of the other vessels, but in our boat, there was silence.  We sat dumbstruck, staring at Jesus.  What had he just done?  Who was he, that even the winds and the waves obey him?

When he turned to face us, the expression on Jesus’ face was not at all calming.  It was hard and firm.  Our question ‘Lord, don’t you care?’  had obviously angered him. “Why were you frightened?” he demanded “Do you still have so little faith?”

Of course, we had no answer.  Our heads hung in shame.

It was as though he was saying ‘I was there, can’t you see?  Is not my presence enough to see you through any storm?  Do I always have to be doing things to prove to you that I care?’

We sailed on in silence, each of us to our own thoughts, until dawn.

At the first breaking of the sun over the horizon, we pulled to shore near a small village; Gerasa or Gedara, I think they said.  Something like that.  I don’t know – I’ve never been to those foreign parts before.  And neither, I believe, will I ever again.  Not after what we just experienced; I tell you.

As soon as we stepped onto dry land, another storm blew up. 

It came sweeping down from the hills, loud and vicious, setting an evil chill deep inside.  We were tired and still on edge, and now more terrified than ever at the fury that bore down upon us. From a graveyard, can you believe it?!  Once again, I was sure I was going to die.

Sense would have told us to run, but Jesus simply stood his ground, facing the incoming onslaught.  What sounded like a thousand voices boomed out: “Jesus, Son of the Most High God…” (Did you hear what the mad-man called him?!) “Jesus, son of the Most High God, what do you want with me?  I beg you not to punish me!” 

Legion – that’s what he called himself; tormented by so many demons, I guess.  Anyway, as he ranted and raved, Jesus stood calmly facing him. Then, with that same voice of authority with which he addressed the storm at sea, Jesus spoke to this raging soul: “Evil Spirit, come out of him”.

It was not so sudden this time.  Yet, (and I know I’ve used the word a lot already) it was more terrifying still!  I mean, have you ever heard an angry pig squeal, or seen a whole herd of swine stampede?  Here there must have been a thousand of them, maybe two – all maddened to a point of frenzy as they raced so close past us.  I’ll never forget the sound of their torment, nor the sight of the sea bubbling again as they hurled themselves into it.  The turmoil continued for quite a while, only gradually calming until, at last, the last poor creature gave up its struggle and drowned.  Stunned silence filled the air once again.

We all turned and looked at ‘Legion’, now standing quietly by himself, equally stunned by the spectacle.  When he eventually tore his eyes away from the dreadful sight and turned to face us, we could tell that the storm was over.  The madness was gone.  There would be no more need for ropes or chains, no more violent fits, no more torrents of abuse or attempts at cutting and self-harm.  The man was free.  The invaders had left.  Peace had come.

For a second time in just a few short hours, we sat quietly in the silence after the storm. And yet, once again, the calm did not last. 

Within minutes another storm blew up. This time in the form of angry pig-owners and local residents who didn’t like their peace disturbed.  (Huh!  Tell me about it!) 

Can you believe it; they kicked us out!  We were actually deported!  On the first day of our holiday, too!  And after all that we had been through to get there!  Sent straight back home!  And here we are.  Some holiday that, huh?!

Oh, the man?  Well, he wanted to come with us, but Jesus sent him straight back home to tell his folks what had happened, just as I am back home telling my tale to you. 

I wonder what kind of reaction he’ll be getting?  If not a storm, then he’ll certainly be creating quite a stir!  And, they may not like it, but they’ll not be able to deny the change that has come over him.

Hmph!  They say ‘a change is as good as a rest’, don’t they?  Well, right now, I’m not so sure.  After all that, I really need a holiday!  A few hours’ sleep will do for starters.  Then I need time to think: Who is he, that even the wind and the waves obey him?

 “Jesus, Son of the Most High God” the madman said, “what do you want with me?”  That’s quite a question, isn’t it?  And I’m off to find a quiet spot think about it – as far away from the sea and the storms as I can get, if you don’t mind!

So, there you go – Some holiday that, alright! 

Or, maybe, it’s better as they used to say it: Some Holy Day that!

A Jailer tells how he found freedom

*

Freedom …

That’s a big word in any language…

a basic craving of every human heart.

Poets may delight in it

Philosophers debate it

Politicians demand it

Priests dangle it tantalizingly

as all the people dote on it.

But I know it’s value more than most

Because I’ve made a career of depriving them of it.

*

That’s what I do, as a Jailer.

And few people know deeply how freedom matters more than I.

It doesn’t take many days nights listening to their miserable cries

Or days ignoring their constant pleading and begging

to realise just how valuable freedom really is.

And I have used that knowledge well.

I make my prisoners feel the loss.

That’s a big part of their punishment, whether they’re here for a day or a decade.

However long their sentence, believe me, they will feel it

Because I am good at my job.

Not just to incarcerate them (and believe me, no-one is going to escape on my watch!)

but to break them.

They all break in the end!

*

At least,

that’s what I thought until last night.

Last night, when I met two men that none of this could touch

And I ended up the broken one, snivelling on the floor, crying out for help, to be saved.

*

Not that anyone would have expected it to turn out like that from the beginning.

They’d been badly beaten when they were delivered to me.

The police manhandled them roughly into my custody and told me to lock them down tight.  

Which I did, clamping them rigidly in the stocks in my high-security cell.   

No chance of escape from there.

The sergeant filled me in.  Apparently, the whole city had been in uproar over these two.  It started as a row over a slave girl, but quickly escalated as the slave’s owner vindictively accused them of everything from blasphemy to un-Roman behaviour and sedition.  Somehow, these two preacher-men managed to push everyone’s wrong buttons.  A riot was threatening.  The city leaders called for a swift and heavy-handed crackdown.  Paul and Silas got a public beating and jail.  The the crowd, now satisfied, dispersed.

*

Normally, I’d expect one of two responses from men in their position, and I was prepared for either.

The first was the easiest to handle: the beating would have done its job, I’d get no resistance as I threw these pathetic lumps of crushed humanity into the cell and left them there to drown in misery and self-pity.

The second response invariably caused much more trouble.  The beating would awaken a fury and resentment that somehow always got released in my direction. Some would shout their innocence, while others cursed and lashed out violently.  But I was used to that, too, and knew how to deal with it.  No doubt they’d get another beating, administered by yours truly, learning the hard way who was in charge and what I would and would not tolerate while they were in my keeping.

But these men, last night, surprised me.

Unlike everyone I’ve ever dealt with before, they were neither defeated nor furious.

In fact, they were unusually calm and in control of themselves.  

They showered none of the usual resentment onto me and went peaceably to their cells, completely disarming me with their manner.

While clearly in pain, they showed no fear.

There was nothing threatening about them at all, perhaps because nothing about their circumstances seemed to threaten them. 

They seemed above it all.  

Free. 

When, later, they began praying and singing, a calm descended on the whole jail, quietening everyone as we listened. I went to my bed strangely content, assured of a night with no trouble.

*

But I was wrong, of course.

*

At first, I thought I was having a nightmare in which I was caught up in an earthquake.

Then I realized that, in reality, it was my wife shaking me awake.

Then I realized she was shaking me awake because there really was an earthquake!

In terror we grabbed the children and led everybody outside to safety in the open.  

The house, I noticed, withstood the impact well, but a loud crash and burst of dust caused me to turn, to see the front of the jail come crashing down, doors breaking off their hinges as the earthquake shook it down.

I drew my sword and ran to stop any fleeing prisoners but, when none came crawling out, I quickly became convinced I was too late – the prisoners had gone!  

Cursing that I had allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security, sleeping instead of manning the guard, I felt despair taking hold of me.  I knew there was only one way this was going to end.  I scoffed at the irony of it: by some act of God or nature, my prisoners had taken their freedom, while I would soon take their place behind bars, someone else becoming my jailer.  If, that is, I was allowed to live to wallow in jail.  That was by no means certain.  Either way my family would lose their home, and I could not bear to think what might become of them.  A madness of shame and disgrace engulfed me.   I knew I could not live with myself any more.  I took my sword and turned its blade towards myself, steeling myself for what I knew I must do.

“Stop!”  a voice cried out for the shadows.   And there they stood.  All of them.  The prisoners were free, but they had not made a break for freedom, and I was completely at a loss to know why.

Hit by the enormity of it all, I sank to my knees.

These men could have run, but instead they chose to stay.

They could have taken my life, but instead chose to save it.

And the way they held themselves in the crisis, with such peace and confidence, revealed

that were already free, in a way I knew I was not.

I begged them to tell me how I could know the same.

Full of questions I led them to my home, and while we attended to their wounds and brought them food, they spoke of Jesus, the Christ, and urged us to believe in him.  As they told us about this man sent from God – his willingness to suffer and die, and how God raised him up from the dead – I came to see the reason for their peace and calmness.  In Christ they knew a love that nothing could ever separate them from.  Nothing in life or death. Nothing that has been, or is yet to come.  No power in heaven or on earth.  No judge nor jailer. No beating nor earthquake.  Nothing. 

And what freedom this gives!   This is what I had seen in these two men.  This is what I was told could be mine in Christ.  

I saw it. I believed it.  I embraced it.   As I went under the waters of baptism I felt my pride, my despair, all my pent-up fear and bitterness, all my acts of cruelty, and all my guilt and shame simply wash away.  At last, I knew what it was to be fully loved and wholly free.   All my family rejoiced with me.

*

When morning came, I laughed as the order came to set Paul and Silas free.   

I laughed because I knew they didn’t need any such permission to be free.

I laughed because I knew that those who sent the order did not have the power to give anything like the freedom these men already enjoyed.

I laughed all the more when, true to form, Peter and Silas simply refused to walk away.  Instead, they insisted that the men who had sent them down should themselves come and lead them out of jail!

What kind of freedom is that, I ask you, that can risk all to challenge injustice and call out evil for what it is, even among the highest ranks of power and authority?

*

The rulers came of course, humble and repentant once they discovered that Paul and Silas were Roman citizens and should never have been treated in such a way. 

But it is not the power of Rome that they should fear.  It is the power of God who raised this Jesus from the dead and who alone has the power to set all people free! 

One day, I believe, even the mighty Emperor will come to acknowledge this.

One day, at Jesus’ name, ever knee will bow. 

One day, the gates of hell will be blown open and the chains of death destroyed by the mighty earthquake of God’s saving grace and all God’s people will walk free. 

I know it! 

I believe it! 

Because today that walk of freedom has made a beginning in me!

Peter reflects on a dream that turned everything upside down….

Know this: you are never going to win an argument with God!

Even if what he asks goes against everything you believe to be right;

Even if it goes against everything everyone believes to be right;

Even if it goes against everything everyone believes God says is right

you are not going to win if God says different.

And if that puts you in a vulnerable place, forcing you to stick your neck out and trailblaze a path no-one else has travelled before and most are unwilling to travel still, then you had better get used to it. If one thing is clear, God is turning the world as we have known it upside down. He’s challenging everything we have taken for ‘normal’ and stretching us way beyond anything we have ever expected or imagined. Ever since the Holy Spirit exploded on to the scene on the day of Pentecost, I’ve been left in no doubt about that.  We live in interesting times, to say the least, and who knows where this journey he is leading us on will take us next?

As Jews, we have always had big dreams for ourselves; but apparently, the Lord is teaching us that those dreams are just not big enough!   We have been privileged to be called God’s chosen people. He has set his care on us, and has a great plan and purpose for us.  That’s special!  And so, we have grown up with visions of our own grandeur, an attitude of entitlement, and a stubborn exclusivism that dismisses all others.  We are God’s chosen ones, no-one else. The nations must come to us, if they want to share the blessing.  We will not go to them!

As everyone knows, Jews do not eat with gentiles – the others.  This has always been our way.  It is how we keep ourselves pure and holy, set apart for our God.  Except now, the Lord, says different.  He has given me a new dream, a bigger vision, and presented it in circumstances that mean I cannot doubt it comes from him. 

This does not mean I like it!  How can anyone be comfortable with suddenly changing the habits of their life time, let alone the communal habits of countless generations, still endorsed by all the rabbis today?   No, I am far from comfortable with it this new thinking, but this dream is changing everything and I have to run with it because I cannot doubt it is from God.

And how can I be so sure, you ask?  Well, let me tell you.

I was up on the roof terrace praying. 

That, in itself, is a new thing for me; sitting still and allowing time for God to speak.  I am Peter, the impetuous one.  A real action man, always so sure of what’s right and wrong that it got me into trouble many times when I argued with Jesus. Or, at least, tried to.   In the end, I came to learn that Jesus knows better (even knows me far better than I know myself) in a very humbling way. I swore blind I would never deny him, but he knew that I would. And I did.  It took an awful lot of grace and forgiveness on his part to help me accept this ugly truth about myself.  And now I’m a changed man.  Now, I’ll sit and take time to listen. And I’m learning that, when I do so, God speaks.   In dreams and visions, strange tongues, powerful prophecies, signs and wonders – so many different ways – God speaks.  And when God speaks, it is still as challenging as ever. 

Anyway, there I was on the roof, when either in a dream or a vision (I’m not quite sure how to describe the experience), I saw a picnic blanket floating down from the sky, laden with the weirdest food you can ever imagine.  Actually, it wasn’t just weird food; it was revolting food!  Everything we have been brought up to think of as disgusting was on that menu the Lord presented for me to eat. 

Of course, I would not!  I refused point blank to defile myself in that way.  But he insisted!  Who am I, the voice in my vision demanded, to question what the Lord God has declared good; to reject what he says is completely acceptable to him?

While I was struggling with this nightmare, the Lord continued; “Listen, Peter! In a minute, some men are going to knock on your door.  They will have come from Joppa (miles away!) because I have told their master, Cornelius (a Roman Centurion, can you believe it!) to send for you.  You must go with them, and tell him all about me.”

So, now I’m thinking I must have been out in the sun too long!   A delivery of strange and forbidden food, and then an invitation to dine in the house of a gentile: but Jews do not eat with gentiles – everyone knows that!

Everyone except the Lord, it appears, because – you know what? –  The next instant they’ve come running upstairs to tell me there are men at the door, sent by a chap named Cornelius, a Roman Centurion from Joppa, who says God told him to invite me over! 

I pinched myself, but it was true, every detail of it!  When I went downstairs the visitors confirmed it. 

I was completely stunned by what was happening, so following wise advice I’d picked up somewhere, I decided to sleep on it.  But in the morning, nothing had changed and I had no choice but to go to Joppa and investigate.  Then, when I arrived in his home, Cornelius himself told me his story again and the dream and reality became one.

So, yes, defying all tradition, I went. Of course, I did!  How could anyone argue with all that? How can anyone argue with such precise and obvious direction from God?

But, just in case anyone still needed convincing, while I was in mid-flow, explaining the Goodnews of Christ’s death and resurrection to Cornelius and those he had gathered, God intervened. 

Suddenly the Holy Spirit descended on every one, and I mean everyone, Jew and gentile, our lot and Cornelius’ lot, alike.  I had to cut my address short, because suddenly everyone was speaking, shouting out the praise of God.  It was as if God said, “Shut up, Peter, and listen!  This doesn’t need any debating, arguing, explaining or talking about – just accepting!  I am doing this!  It’s a done deal!  So don’t you dare say these people are not acceptable, when I say that they are!  Don’t let anyone say that they are unacceptable, when I say they are!”

It was a hard lesson to learn; not just for me, but for the whole Church. It’s a lesson many still find hard to accept, and perhaps always will.  I’ve had to stick my neck out and argue the case, being called to account by people who hold a smaller vision.   I’ve had to take the risk and reach out and embrace those who others still think are beyond the pale, fighting for their right to inclusion because God has convinced me that it’s not my decision who is in our out, only God’s.  

So, when will we admit that God’s love and grace, God’s hearty welcome, is so much bigger and wider than ours?   The boundaries have been smashed wide open.  God’s Kingdom really and truly is for all.

May as well accept it.  There is no debate to be had.  No-one is going to ever win this argument with God!

James, who was a fisherman all his life until called to follow Jesus, wonders what it is to be shepherd:

*

I readily admit I don’t know much about sheep.  Why should I?  I’m a fisherman, not a shepherd!

Oh yes, I’ve seen plenty about – who hasn’t?  I’ve worn their wool for my clothes and even eaten their meat occasionally, but I know nothing much about keeping them.  That’s someone else’s job, not mine.  And I’m glad about that, because from what I hear shepherds have to work quite unsociable hours and most folk don’t like them because they smell.  (And that is really saying something, coming from a fisherman, isn’t it!)

In fact, all I know about sheep and shepherding is what I learnt in scripture school.  King David was a Shepherd, wasn’t he?  And he wrote that amazing song everyone loves about the Lord being his shepherd.  Nice! Very comforting!

One of the prophets was a shepherd, wasn’t he?  From Tekoa, I think, (wherever that is).  Some others used the imagery in a far less positive way. They told how our leaders, who were supposed to shepherd the people, had failed to do so and, in fact, led God’s people astray.  We have quite a chequered history, you know! And as a fisherman I’m glad it’s the shepherds, not us, who get blamed for it! 

(Now, if you sense a hint of professional rivalry here, let me remind you that not one of the twelve Jesus called to be his disciples was a shepherd – but at least four of us are fishermen!  Enough said!)

Jesus was a carpenter before he became a teacher, so you’d not think he’d know much about sheep and shepherds either. But that really isn’t the case.  Perhaps it’s because he comes from inland that he knows more.  There are a lot of sheep in the hills around Nazareth! 

Whatever, Jesus has recently been talking a lot about sheep and shepherds, even telling Peter that if he loves Jesus, he should feed his sheep.   Peter admitted to me privately that he felt a lot more comfortable when Jesus called us to be fishers of people.  That at least built on things we already knew.  Now we’ve got to learn how to be shepherds, it seems.  That is quite another story!

As fishermen we are essentially hunter gatherers, not farmers.  Each night when we go out in the boat, the hunt is on.  Our skill lies in knowing where the fish are most likely to be swimming on any particular day – and in catching them before they get away!   If one thing is for certain, you see, the fish would try to escape if they could.  The blighters do everything they can to avoid getting caught in our nets. Indeed, we have to fish in silence because if they hear us coming, they hide. The vibrations from our voices carry through the water and, when the fish sense us, they swim!  It’s a dicey operation, being a fisherman.  I don’t know how many nights we have come back in failure, our nets empty and spirits low.

And this is where it is so different for a shepherd, as Jesus tells it.  Believe you me, if we went out calling the fish to us, we would never see any of them!   But when the sheep hear the shepherds call, they run to him, not from him.  They recognise his voice and know he is safe.   They trust him and are ready to follow him, knowing he has their best interests in mind.

Trust like that does not come easily.  It takes years to build.  But the shepherd was most likely there at their birth and probably helps them to give birth.  Every step of the way he is there for them.  A good shepherd watches over his flock constantly – even at night.  No going him to a comfy bed for him.  Instead, he sleeps lightly nearby, laying himself down across the entrance to the sheep-fold.  No need for a gate – the shepherd himself is there to keep them safe and secure. And when he leads off in the morning, his sheep follow because they know he is always there to protect and to provide for them.  They instinctively know that wherever he takes them, even if it is through dark and scary valleys, it will always be to green fields and fresh water. He knows what they need, so they trust and follow him. They unreservedly know that he is good.

We don’t have any such relationship with the fish we go hunting for.  To them, we are quite simply predators, out to trap them.  Who can blame them that their natural instinctive is to flee? To be honest, we fishermen are more like the thieves Jesus warns about… come to steal and to destroy.  What a contrast to the Good shepherd he names himself – the shepherd who lays down his own life, so that his sheep may live!  And by that, he means really live. Freely and fully.  He has come, he says, that we may have life in all its fullness. Isn’t that a wonderful thought?

How great it would be to have the kind of relationship that Jesus speaks of!  To know and to be known. To trust and be trusted. To be loved and love in return.   And all the time to know that there is someone there for you who will give his everything for your sake, even his very life. 

This is the life, the relationship with God, that Jesus offers. 

But, when he talks like this, there are plenty who do not like it.  They accuse him of being a man possessed!  How on earth can they think such things when what he says and does is so beautiful?  I just don’t understand!

Instead, they press him to declare himself and then they seek more miracles for proof.  

But he simply replies that he has spoken, he has proven himself, but they will not accept it.  They will not believe, he says, because they will not listen, will not follow, will not know and love him.  No, they will not.   They refuse to be sheep in his flock.    They are more like the frightened, untrusting fish, desperate to escape my nets. They do not know him for who he truly is.  They mistrust him, even when all that he offers them is good. 

Jesus promises eternal life secured by none other than God the Father. And he says we can trust him on this because he is completely one with the father.   Again and again, he assures them that no thief – nor predator of any kind – can ever snatch them out of God’s hands.  The tragedy, it seems, is that they do this all by themselves.  The sheep reject the shepherd, but without him, they are lost.

*

Now, as I said, I have no experience of being a shepherd.  But, the way he speaks, Jesus is inspiring me to want to become one.  It strikes me that this new life he is calling us to is one of constant growth and development, constant learning, constantly finding new ways to love and to care.  I cannot remain as I am.  I must embrace the new challenges he brings.  

I will follow the shepherd, because I know that he is good.  He has a bigger and fuller life planned for me … and for you.  Do you hear his voice?  Do you recognise his call?  Will you trust yourself to him and follow the shepherd who provides everything you’ll ever need?

Peter is drawn out of his reverie by someone who has come looking for him:

Oh, Hi! 

What was that you said? “I wondered where you had been hiding?”

Well … Hah! You don’t know the truth of what you are saying!

But, let me tell you, if there is one thing I have learned it is this:

There is no hiding

… No escape

… No getting away from it all. 

Some things have just got to be faced up to. 

You can’t avoid them forever… 

Can’t brush them under the carpet and pretend they never happened.

But we try, don’t we?!

Daft as we are, we try!

Do you know, it was just what we thought we needed –

this fishing trip. 

Some time out in the boat

   – a night of adventure and hard sweat –

that should clear our heads and get things sorted after the last few days in Jerusalem.

And boy! Was it good to be home?!

Back on our own turf…

Except “turf” isn’t exactly the right word for it when it’s the steady rocking to and fro of a boat on the waves that makes your heart soar.

For us, it’s always been the sound of the sea birds and water gently lapping that brings peace and that sense of ‘rightness’; it’s the sea-breeze filling the lungs that sets our spirit dancing with the cry: “Yes!   I am home!    I am Alive!   I am free!”

That’s what we were hoping for when we went back out fishing.

It’s what we felt we deserved after all that we’d been through.

And things might have gone that way …if only we had caught something!

But, not a bite all night!

The nets came up empty haul after haul!

So as the first rays of sunlight began to break over the horizon, our load was light as a feather, but our hearts and minds as heavy as heavy can be.

So much for a relaxing break!

The fruitless trip served to hammer home all the more the pointlessness of life now that he had gone…

(Or not gone, as it was turning out!)

To be honest we just did not know what to think anymore,

but the night out on the boat did nothing to help.

We headed back to shore, completely dejected. 

We had failed as people,

failed as his disciples,

and, quite clearly, we weren’t any good as fishermen anymore, either!  

So just what did life have to offer us eh??

Just what, I ask you?!

Now, you know I am impetuous, and it would be oh so easy to jump in with the happy ending right away – but you know all that anyway!   Instead, I need you to come back a bit with me.  Please stay with me as I try and give you the full story.  It’ll be difficult, I know… but you have to journey through my darkness, if you are going to really see the light.

So how did I feel this morning?

Depressed isn’t the word for it!

I was numb…desolate… (what would be the right word for it?)

What I do know, is that my failure at fishing made it all the worse.

I had a deep dark sinking feeling inside.

I felt Useless. 

Fruitless. 

Pointless. 

A failure!

And why did we really go fishing last night?

• To get some air and clear our head? Yes!
• To get back in touch with something old and familiar?   Yes!
• To test out our metal and see if we could still do it, should we have to again, now that things with Jesus were all over?  Yes!  I admit it, Yes!

And yet, while I can’t speak for the others, the overriding motivation for me, I now realise, was in the hope of escape.

To put it bluntly – a ship out at sea was the only place I believed I could face the dawn without having to hear that awful sound of the cockerel.

“Three times” he said “before the cockerel crows…”

I denied it, and argued with everything in me, but he was right.

For all my filibustering, I did deny him.

And every day I awaken to the grating cry of my cowardice and my shame.

So, I ran to the sea.  But the sea wouldn’t hide me.

Instead, we had to endure a long, dark, and depressing night out there.

The breaking light of day came as a welcome relief to some of us.  But for me, the dawn brought no ease or comfort.  The darkness remained inside.

And yet the dawn did bring something new.

A stranger on the shore, calling out to us.

Now, if you ask me why we did not recognise him immediately, then I’ll tell you he was lucky we acknowledged him at all!  We were so dejected. Quite frankly, we might have ignored him completely – his voice drowned out by the preoccupying noises in our weary and confused minds.

That is, if his calling hadn’t made me so angry!

Tiredness had brought my guard down, and he touched on a sore spot for me. My pride. Who was this man to tell me, Simon Peter, the Fisherman, how to do my job?  How could he possibly know better after experienced workers like us had been hard at it all night?  I was ready to give him a mouthful and storm off in a huff, I tell you!

But the others held me back. This man was so calm and commanding – so certain about what he was telling us to do – that just maybe, they suggested, he could see something we could not. Maybe, from his viewpoint, there was another option, another avenue yet to be explored.

So, we had one last go, just to humour him.

And I bet it did humour him, to see us all jumping, so surprised, into action, struggling under the weight, with the rising sound of panic in our voices as we felt so sure the boat would sink!  

Suddenly there were fish everywhere! 

Suddenly everything had turned around! 

And just as suddenly I realised who he was – this man who had called us, and turned our tired and useless labours into a harvest the likes of which we had never seen before!

When John said: “It is the Lord!”  I needed no more.

In seconds I had grabbed my clothes around me and was diving into the water,

heading as fast as I could towards the shore.

You see, in that moment, my heart ruled completely.

Whatever guilt or worry I had felt…

Whatever reaction I may have feared from him…

All I really wanted was to be near him.

And just for that second nothing was going to stand in my way!

And I reckon that Jesus understood this too. 

Maybe it was what he had been waiting for,

because when I ran up to him, panting, in such a soggy bedraggled state,

he laughed such a warm and welcoming laugh,

and I swear he would have hugged me, wet as I was,

if I had not stopped short and turned my head away.

Was it the fire and the cooking, just like in that Jerusalem Courtyard, that brought it all back again?

Or was it the catching of his eye in the morning light – the same illuminated eyes that had looked on me with sadness as the cockerel announced the dawning of that dark morning, just a few days ago?

Or was it the sudden realisation of how stupid I looked, all wet and bedraggled as I was?  

Why did I do that – put my clothes on to go swimming when anybody else would have taken them off?!? 

What was I trying to cover up? To hide? 

Was I, like Adam and Eve, afraid to stand before the Lord, feeling my nakedness and shame?

I do not know…

But I do know that the un-faced truth of my failure and betrayal swept like a dark cloud between us.

Yet here he was, still calling out to me, inviting me, cooking breakfast for me!

How could he be so welcoming, so forgiving, so gracious after everything I had done?

Thankfully he didn’t force the issue.

In fact, I think he gave me a way out for the moment.  When he asked us to bring some of our catch to add the fish that was already sizzling on the fire I was back in the boat in an instant, dragging the net out, glad to be busy and distracted.  And yet, once again, I realise I was hiding…  trying to escape… avoiding the very thing I knew had to be faced.

We all gathered round the fire, his presence impressing itself on us so strongly, that we hardly dare speak.  Reluctantly, I re-joined the circle, trying so hard to avoid his gaze.  

Then, I just could not believe it when he came and served each one of us with fish and bread. 

Yes – once again, he offered us bread!  Just as in the upper room – where he so knowingly told me I would deny him – he offered me bread! 

And when I took it, I finally realised there was no need for hiding anymore.

“Peter, do you love me?”

“Lord, you know that I love you!”

It was no grand pronouncement this time, claiming to love him more than all the others.  That myth had well and truly been debunked!  I had no pride left to stand on.

He did not rub things in, or point an accusing finger, or even insist on dragging up all the ugly past that we both knew stood between us.  Quite simply he repeated the one question that mattered over and over again; Once for each time I had failed him so badly.

“Peter, do you love me?

‘Lord you know that I love you!!!!’

And when I near enough shouted it at him the third time, I knew it too!

He drew it out of me and caused me to face it.

Bottom line: I love him

Whatever else there is: I Love him!

How ever much I have failed him: I love him!

And this is all that matters to him!

That I love him,

That I love him

That I love him who first and foremost loves me!

And that leads me on to one more thing I now realise I cannot escape from:

Responsibility!

No – not responsibility for what I had done,

but responsibility for what I must now do!

You see, now that we know that Jesus is alive, everything is changing!

We have to accept that, if we are to live in the new life he gives us,

Then everything will be radically different.

But that means we have to draw the line somewhere, and choose to start again.

It means I have to let go of the past and embrace the future.

I have to move on.

However painful a business that may be, I have to move on.

“Peter, do you love me”

“You know that I love you”

“Then feed my sheep!”

Sheep!  

But I don’t know a thing about sheep!

I am a fisherman, not a shepherd!

Yet there can be no return to fishing for me now! 

I cannot hide in the past,

Or bury my head in cosy familiarity.

I have got to change!

I have got to learn!

I have got to become something new myself.

And this is so scary!

I liked the old me!  I was at ease with the old ways!

But they are not ‘me’ anymore, are they?

I cannot avoid this.

I have to accept change – welcome it, even –

And stride out in faith, following him!

And while I heard what he said when he warned that this road will lead me to a place where I will be tied and bound and not able to escape even if I want to, that does not scare me anymore.

I must say, I have never felt freer or more fulfilled at any time in my life than I do now!

You see, I thought it was my failure I was hiding from;

but really it was my love!

I thought I would find peace in escaping;

Instead, I find it in accepting his call!

Now then, You came looking to see where I was hiding.

Well let me tell you, there will be no more hiding anymore!  

Instead, I am going to face up to my failure,

admit my love,

rise to his challenge

and live like I’ve never lived before!

…LIVE like I’ve never lived before!

And what about you, my friend?

What about you?

A man (Cleopas or his companion) tries to tell you his story with a straight face, but with a glint in his eye that betrays a hidden secret which, occasionally, he can’t help slip out:

Do you want a laugh? I mean a real good laugh?

It would be at my expense, mind, and I am almost embarrassed to tell you  – I mean, how could I have been so daft – so slow to get it – so slow to see?

A right ass I proved to be!  It is better than a pantomime, this!  “He’s behind you”

“O no he isn’t!”

“O yes he is!”

Hah! What a dimwit I was!

But I have got to tell you the story, and I know you are going to laugh.  Such a blooming good story it is … a crazy story … and good news to stir your heart!

Now yesterday… honestly … I thought I would never laugh again.  I was so shocked … so disillusioned …

I was dead … Everything in me finished … burnt out … completely numbed by the horror of the events we had seen in Jerusalem.  Like soldiers retreating in defeat we plodded on towards home, my friend and I.  Mostly in silence – a dull, terrible silence, while inside our minds replayed the bloody scenes once again –  sometimes letting out a deep sigh … or a tirade of anger and disbelief before slipping back into the noiseless plod once again.  At the most our conversation was short lived.  “I just can’t believe it!” one of us would say, and the other would reply “ I know!”  Then “How could it happen to him?  How could it?”  And we had no answer to give – so what more could we say?

And who would have thought it would all end up like that?

Not me, I’ll tell you, that’s for sure!

Have you ever felt your heart burn deep inside you? No, not with indigestion, with excitement…energy…with life?    I have.  A good number of times too.  Jesus did that to me.  When I heard him speak about his coming kingdom, my heart warmed.  When I saw the crowds flocking to him, it throbbed with excitement.  And my mind blew and the adrenalin rushed whenever I saw his power demonstrated in countless acts of healing love! Yes, my heart soared!  And I knew, I just knew that he was the one and this was the time. With my own eyes I had seen the King, the Messiah.

And so everything in me began to live, charged with an energy I had never known before.  It’s like Hope began to flow through me like a spring of living water, enlivening every part of me.  I began to dream dreams.  I felt grasped by a great vision and purpose. And I began to believe at last – No, not just began to believe, I believed absolutely.  I left everything to follow him. I was willing to give up everything to fight for him.  This was the time and this was the place and HE was the one who would redeem Israel.  I was utterly convinced of it.  And my heart glowed, my spirit soared – and I felt for the first time ever that I was truly, completely alive!

And its odd that I felt something of that feeling again yesterday when ‘the stranger’ began to speak.  I can’t tell you exactly when he joined us, I just have some vague recollection of him drawing along side and asking if he could walk with us.  I’m not sure that we even answered, but obviously I didn’t lift my head to look at him … just kept plodding on, face to the ground, looking at my feet.

(If only I had, maybe I wouldn’t have ended up looking so foolish?  Who knows!)

Now you can probably see where this story is going now – but I’ll tell you my side of it any way, and perhaps than you will understand – your laughter tamed with at least a little compassion!

Any way, as I said, it was odd that I began to get that same feeling when the stranger began to speak. Odd for two reasons:  firstly, because of the way he spoke to us – calling us numskulls, mocking out dim-wittedness. If I had not been so tired and drained out, I tell you, I would have given him one!  I mean it!  I have only ever let one man speak to me like that… and that brings me to the second reason: He was dead.  His life brutally and decisively cut short. And as they took him and crucified him I reeled in horror. This could not be!  Not him!  Not by them!  He was supposed to be the one overthrowing the impostors, driving them out, leading the uprising and bringing us freedom.  But instead they simply squashed him like a fly.

With not so much as a squeak from him.  And the whole city watched – most of them who had acclaimed him now shouting for his blood, can you believe it? While the rest of us stood by in numb disbelief.

This could not be happening, but there was not a soul in the city who didn’t know that it truly did.

Except this man, it would seem.  “How can he be so ignorant?” I wondered.  “Where can he have been?  What hole had he got his head stuck in, or what adventure or tragedy could have so preoccupied his mind?”

To tell you the truth, I was rather disinclined to tell him anything, but when my friend began to speak, I couldn’t help but join in.  And I think I was glad that I did.  It was good to have a listening ear – and a complete stranger who I had never met before and who I probably would never meet again – (!!)  – made for a pretty safe option. We could tell him everything, without him assuming anything or interrupting.  And it helped to get it off our chest.  Helped, but hurt.  We poured out our grief.  We let out our disappointment … our broken dreams and shattered hope.  Yes we had hoped that he was the one who would redeem Israel.  But now he was dead.  It had all come to nothing.  We spoke of a past tense Saviour and a present day hurt.

It was then that he started talking back to us.  he who knew nothing suddenly became the one who knew everything!   We smarted at that, but had little energy to object.  And after the initial hesitation I began to realise that what he was saying made sense.  How I could even begin to take in anything like he was saying, I do not know, but he spoke with such authority, and soon my mind snapped back to attention, and my heart began to warm.

Starting from the prophets he began to explain everything that the scriptures said about Jesus, and how they must come true.  How the suffering – how the dying – was all part of the plan.  In fact, it was the plan. This was the way God would redeem his people – not so much from suffering, but through his suffering.  I had never heard anything like it before, but I was enthralled!  And the dull hopeless drudge became a walk of determination, a real journey of discovery.

And as he explained things to us (this is the funny bit!)  I actually remember thinking that the way he taught and the way he made me feel reminded me of Jesus!  And still I did not recognise him!  Was I so involved in focusing on his words, eyes fixed in mindless concentration on the road, that I never looked up and saw his face?!!  

Hah!

But before we knew it we were almost home, and it was getting towards evening, so we asked “the stranger” to stay the night.  It was the right thing to do in the circumstances. But, what is more, even in our exhaustion, we were beginning to find this mans company a great comfort!

Foot sore and weary we sat at table together – and he took the bread and began to break it … And then I saw it: a flash back moment and we were in the upper room… Those same hands breaking bread for us… and the same voice saying, “ this is my body, broken for you…do this and remember me!”

I cannot believe it… but honestly it was only then that I realised … only then that I saw.  My eyes flashed form his hands to his face, and I haven’t got a clue what expression he read there … what look of shock, or wonder, or sheepish acknowledgement of my own stupidity … but I saw him smile a knowing smile and nod.  And then his grin began to widen and he began to laugh and laugh and laugh.  We all laughed and laughed and laughed.  Rip-roaring laughter!  Side-splitting laughter! Tear-jerking laughter! 

How long it went on for , I just don’t know.  But we just collapsed in fits on the table.  And when we pulled ourselves together and our vision cleared – he was gone!

Not that we were worried – our joy was so complete – and a sense of urgency came with it too.  We had to get back to Jerusalem.  We had to tell the others.  We had to tell the world!

So quick as a flash we headed back to Jerusalem, not in some pathetic plod this time, but running as fast as we could so that not just our hearts, but our lungs too, burnt with every gasping breath! 

Not that we hardly noticed.

Now everything had turned around.

A short while earlier we had walked that way in dejection, now we ran back with good news to tell!

When we left we had thought it was all over: Jesus dead, our dreams dying with him.  But not any more!

We had hoped he would redeem Israel, and that hope we had lost; yet now that hope was, rekindled, re-interpreted, reborn!

Who would have imagined it?

Who could believe?

But we had seen the Lord

And our lives were turned around!

And yes, you can laugh at us!

How can we have been so dim-witted?

How could we not have seen?

Yes, go on and laugh … and we will laugh with you!

Any way, is your story really so different to ours?

Have you never been so foolish as to not recognise him walking beside you?  So blind that that you could not see? So tired of your journey?  So weighed down in your grief? Disappointed, disillusioned, and feeling that he was dead to you… But he was with you all the time!

Yes, let’s laugh!  Laugh together at our folly!

But let us laugh all the more at is love!

We have seen the Lord!

He is alive!

Death and despair are defeated!

Hope is reborn!

He lives and so we live!

Yes, laugh with me.

Laugh with the joy of living!

Laugh with the joy of his life!

Nick Stanyon 07/04/05

Thomas reflects on a most disturbing encounter…

I have just been party to the most disturbing of conversations.  Initially, Jesus fended off the threat with a response that was so cutting it almost had us in stitches!  But then he continued with more chilling predictions of his own, painting a tragic scenario, the sadness of which still haunts my soul.

It all began with the Pharisees. Again!  This time they came warning us to leave, because they had heard that Herod was out to get Jesus.  

But the trouble with the Pharisees is that you just don’t know how to take them.   They have been so devious – well at least most of them have (there are the odd exceptions).  None of us knew what to make of these one who came with the message today.  Some of us were convinced they had made the whole story up in order to frighten us off, while others saw them as gleeful but gloating bearers of bad news.  For my part, I thought they might have been genuine but, apparently, I always think too kindly of people and am told not to be so naïve.

Whatever the truth, it did not matter.  Jesus wasn’t fazed at all by their warning.  In fact, he gave it short shrift, dismissing Herod entirely.  His language was blunt and shockingly forthright; so much so, as I have said, it was hard not to laugh when he came out with it!  Herod, he said, was a fox.  A sly, but insignificant figure. Whatever his blustering’s, this so called ‘king’ would have no impact at all on Jesus’ reckoning. “You can go and tell that nobody that I will go on doing God’s business, healing and delivering people, regardless of what he might have to say about it!  And I’ll do the same again tomorrow. And the day after that!  He will not – he cannot stop me.”

If Jesus had only ended it there, I am sure we would all have stood and applauded.  But he didn’t, did he?  He had to go on!  And if the Pharisees’ warning had been chilling, Jesus’ own words now plunged us into deeper, icier water. 

“No prophet can die outside Jerusalem!”    What kind of an answer is that?    OK…  it’s fine… we are not in Jerusalem right now, so no immediate danger.  But you can’t tell me he never intends going there? He is bound to!  And why does he still go on about dying?   ‘Not here’, he says. ‘Not now’.  But in Jerusalem?  Does he think that it is his destiny to die in Jerusalem?

Now don’t get me wrong. Chilling as I find this, I’m committed to go all the way with Jesus.  I’ll die with him, if it comes to that. But why does it have to come to that?  We have always been brought up to think of Jerusalem as a good place; a holy place.  All our lives we have prayed for her peace and prosperity. Our songs are some of the happiest when we sing about visiting her.  That pilgrimage is a delight because Jerusalem is God’s city – Jerusalem is where God lives in his Temple, and because he does, everything is right, as it should be.

But clearly the song in Jesus’ heart called ‘Jerusalem’ rings with a very different tune.  His is a mournful lament with counter-tones of seeping darkness. It carries a tragic melody of love spurned and needless loss.  To Jesus, Jerusalem is the city that routinely kills the prophets and stones God’s messengers.  And yet, he does not say that bitterly.  His damning assessment does not diminish his love, nor dampen his compassion.   In his heart, he longs to save her children, calling them to run to him for shelter, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, ‘but you would not come…’

‘But you would not come…’    Those words have haunted me ever since I first heard them.  As has the look I saw on his face as he spoke them and the memory of his voice breaking along with his heart.

‘But you would not come…’    Is that how it has to end?   Will the children of Jerusalem always reject him? 

And is that how we will always find him – Jesus – weeping over countless cities being laid to waste, with the cry: “I longed to save you… but you would not come!”?

apology

I did try to work out how to write on this weeks passage. However, in the end I decided not to do so, as the format I use here did not fit the passage.

My usual format sees one of the characters reflecting on their meeting with Jesus soon after, if not the ‘morning after’, the encounter.    Here no-one else was involved.  This was a private moment for Jesus, set in lonely and desolate place, even before the first disciples were called. 

Indeed, the only other character mentioned here is the devil, and I really don’t want to give him any time or space. No doubt he’d love the attention, but this is not about him, it’s about Jesus and his personal heart searching. 

Jesus needs to decided who he will be; what kind of a Saviour?  More precisely, he needs to rule out what kind of a saviour he will not be.