Coffee Theology

More thoughts inspired by reading Dave Tomlinson's book.  On the subject of God's love he says: 'I have seen many, many lives transformed by the realisation of God's unqualified love.  This, I think, is the real power of the Christian message, so often buried under tons of religious dogma that has nothing to do with the teaching of Christ.  Knowing that God loves and values us can enable us to value ourselves better, to develop self-respect.  And this provides the basis for making better choices in life, for strengthening personal integrity, and for empowering us to decide who and what we wish to be, instead of being pushed around by the whims of others or by the fashions and fads of the wider culture.' God's unqualified love is absolutely the heart of the Christian message.  God made you, God loves you, God's son died for you, God wants you to love him too.  But the 'real power' is not simply that we know God loves us and therefore we can live bette...

I liked the title of this book by Dave Tomlinson so decided to give it a try.  It's certainly making me think, though I can't say I agree with everything in it. From what I've gathered so far, the book's basic argument is that being a Christian is not about going to church or believing certain things, but about living your live in a certain way.  It's about living in the presence of a God who loves you; making good choices ( I guess Christians would call that 'holiness'); and loving others.  OK, I'm on board with that. Tomlinson goes on to argue, however, that living in this way is natural - that humans instinctively know that love is what it's all about and that we 'bump into God' in everyday life all the time.  I'm not so sure I agree with him here.  Examples he gives of loving God include: enjoying our gifts and living life with gratitude; breathing in fresh air and feeling glad to be alive; living fully in the present moment.  These d...

http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/justintaylor/2012/04/07/seven-stanzas-at-easter-john-updike/

Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel tells the harrowing story of watching a boy hanged in Aushwitz.  As the boy gasped out his final moments, Wiesel heard someone in the crowd ask: "Where is God?  Where is he?".  And then again, as the boy's death throes went on and on, "Where is God now?".  The answer which came to Wiesel as he watched the dreadful scene was: "God is there, hanging on a gallows".   When Christians speak of Jesus Christ as the Son of God, they mean not simply that he was an especially holy man (though he was), but that in Christ God becomes a human being.  And so when Jesus suffered fear, pain, abandonment and even death, some have argued that here God himself learns what it is to suffer, to be abandoned, and even to die.  When Jesus cries from the cross: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?", God himself becomes, paradoxically, Godforsaken.  And if God has identified so completely with broken humanity, submitting himself ev...

An artistic interpretation of the stations of the cross set up by Hannah (the marvellous Methodist minister at large) and some friends in the Royals Shopping Centre, central Southend: 1. Jesus receives the red carpet treatment 2. Jesus throws the moneylenders out of the temple.  (All we have left of the temple today is a wall, into which people push their prayers). 3. Jesus anointed with expensive perfume. 4. Judas agrees to betray Jesus for thirty pieces of silver. 5.  The last supper. 6. The cross. 7. The empty tomb... coming soon.

Let's say you do something stupid and selfish and it hurts someone else.  What do you feel?  I guess in that situation most of us would say "I feel guilty".  So what would take that guilt away? In our legal system we atone for our crimes by doing a punishment, after which we have "paid our debt to society".  But does that work in everyday human interactions?  If I have hurt someone, do I ask them to name a punishment, and when I've done it, do they feel better?  Do I?   Some have argued that what we often feel when we do stupid, selfish things is shame rather than guilt - or perhaps as well as guilt.  Shame is a feeling of badness - not that I have done something bad, but that I AM bad.  It's not focused on what we've done but on ourselves.  When I hurt someone else, I don't focus on the thing I can do to make it better; I agonise over the damage I have done and feel diminished as a person.  Doing a punishment doesn't change...

As Jesus entered Jerusalem, people waved palms and shouted: 'Hosanna!' - save us.  Save us from what? When Christians say that Jesus saves, usually they mean that he saves us from sin.  In an earlier post I suggested that sin was basically selfishness  and self-centredness, a lack of attention to others and to God.  I guess most of us, whether we consider ourselves to be Christian or not, would accept that we're not perfect and often selfish.   We spend most of our time with other imperfect humans, so this isn't usually seen as a huge problem (though it would be great if we could all be nice to each other for a change).  But God is holy, and says to his people, 'be holy, because I am holy' (Leviticus 11.44).    Christ's death on the cross, which we will remember on Good Friday, deals with the problem of human sin.  The way this works is ultimately a deep mystery.  But we have a few theories.  One way of understanding the cross is th...

The word we cry as part of Palm Sunday worship is 'Hosanna'.  Hosanna to the King of David!  Hosanna to the king of kings! Hosanna is a cry of praise to God.  The Brenton Brown song 'Praise is Rising' puts it well: 'You are the God who saves us/worthy of all our praises'.  When I was an atheist teenager I really loathed the idea of praise and worship - if God wanted people to worship him, didn't that make him a bighead?  I wasn't into subservience to authority and didn't like the idea of this ultimate authority figure demanding obedience and worship. But hosanna is also a cry of petition - 'O Lord, save!'.  It recognises that we need salvation, and that Jesus can save us.  As a teenager I didn't think I needed salvation.  As teenagers we have the world at our feet; it all belongs to us and we could make it all better if only people would listen to us.  Now I know someone who is wiser than me - and who actually has the power to save.

It's important to take a break from time to time.

I've been reflecting on spiritual disciplines in the last two posts.  One discipline which is not perhaps so obvious as prayer and retreat is the discipline of community.  There are lots of things I love about community - having people to talk to and share life with; being able to work and play together; having so many different people's talents and perspectives on life.  But there are things which can be really hard too.  In a small community, and most churches are fairly small communities, if you fall out with someone, you can't get away from each other; you have to deal with your issues.   I have often reflected on Paul's words about the body of Christ (i.e. the church): If the foot says, “I am not a part of the body because I am not a hand,” that does not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear says, “I am not part of the body because I am not an eye,” would that make it any less a part of the body? If the whole body were an eye, how would you he...

Perhaps surprisingly for an extrovert, I have found going on retreat to be an extremely helpful aid to prayer.  'Retreat' usually involves being somewhere quiet (eek) without any other people (aagh) or alternatively with people you aren't allowed to talk to (gasp).  Every time I've been on a retreat which has involved an overnight stay I have always arranged to meet with a retreat guide - i.e. someone you are allowed to talk to while you're there, but only for a set amount of time, and then you have to shut up and go away. The best retreats I've experienced have been at St Cuthbert's Centre, a United Reformed church on Holy Island.  They have a bothy (that's a very small, simple room or flat designed for one person) which you can book, and basically hole up for a few days.  Holy Island is packed with tourists when the tide is out, but there are very few places to stay on the island, so they all go home before the tide comes in, and then you're on y...

I don't think I've ever met a Christian who is satisfied that they pray enough (or read the Bible enough). I distinctly remember once sitting in a group gathered for conversation and prayer, wondering if I had the courage to admit that I don't pray enough; then almost everyone in the group said the same thing - I need to pray more.   Sometimes I wonder if part of the problem is the widespread teaching that a daily "quiet time" of Bible reading and prayer is the proper pattern for Christian spirituality.  It is usually recommended that this be first thing in the morning, so that we "start the day with God".  I have two main problems with this - 'morning' and 'quiet'.  I do not do mornings, and I get very fidgety when I'm supposed to be quiet.  At college we had whole 'quiet days', which I dreaded with a fierce passion, spending the whole of the time we were allowed to talk reminding everyone that I am an extrovert and that they...

I discovered this poem a few years ago and it really spoke to me.  See what you make of it: Abou Ben Adhem by Leigh Hunt Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold -  Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the Presence in the room he said "What writest thou?" - The vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered: "The names of those who love the Lord." "And is mine one?" said Abou.  "Nay, not so," Replied the angel.  Ben Adhem spoke more low, But cheerly still, and said " I pray thee, then, Write me as one who loves his fellow men." The angel wrote, and vanished.  The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blest, And lo!  Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

This morning I was rereading the chapter in the final Harry Potter book where Harry gives himself up.  He goes to Voldemort unarmed and allows his enemy to kill him... Only Harry doesn't die.  His sacrifice does, however, destroy the part of Voldemort's soul which is lodged within himself.  Voldemort could not have been defeated without this selfless act.  Apologies to those of you who don't spend your lives rereading Harry Potter and who might be a tad confused at this point. This part of the series reminds me of the death of Aslan in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.  The White Witch gleefully kills Aslan, who has willingly given himself up to die, believing that Narnia will be hers.  What she doesn't know about, but Aslan does, is the deep magic from before the dawn of time.  When an innocent victim gives himself up in place of another, death itself is reversed.  Aslan dies, but he comes back, and defeats the witch.  This is widely und...

Lots of great stuff on Rev this week.  The Baptist Union face very similar issues to the Church of England around gay marriage, it's just that the Baptist church isn't as big or high profile as the Church of England, so our debates aren't so public.  I enjoyed Adam's attempts to 'pray for' but definitely not 'marry' his two gay friends in a church festooned with flowers and confetti, in front of all their friends... As an evangelist I also particularly enjoyed the church growth seminar Adam attends, based around the acronym I.E.D. - Invade, Evangelise, Deliver.  The seminar promises to 'blow the legs off failure; launch your ministry into the air and scatter it over a wide area'.  Invade your community - push your way into people's lives and let them know how indispensable you are!  Evangelism isn't a dirty word; if you like a book or a boutique hotel, you tell people about it!  Deliver as a priest!  Deliver weddings and funerals, deliver...

I got home this evening, tired, at 7pm, the earliest I had got home all week, to find a bunch of pink roses on our doorstep with this message:  Dear Emma, A gift for you.  With love and with God's blessings. No name, an anonymous gift.  From someone who probably didn't know that roses are my favourite flowers, and that we had pink roses at our wedding.  I love surprises.

Harry Potter has a lot of enemies.  He is the 'chosen one', the mortal enemy of Lord Voldemort, and all Voldemort's supporters hate him.  He survives attempts to capture, injure or kill him dozens of times, and yet Harry always shows his enemies mercy.   When Petter Pettigrew is exposed as a traitor and murderer, Harry won't allow him to be killed, but insists on taking him to the authorities.  When Harry is competing with Cedric Diggory in the Triwizard Tournament (and in his love life), he still insists on giving Cedric the inside information he has learned about the first task, and later agrees to tie for first place when he could have won outright.  When Draco Malfoy, who has taunted Harry for seven years and is a fully fledged Death Eater, is trapped by a fire in the Room of Requirement, Harry insists on risking his own life to save Malfoy and his friends. There are dozens of examples, but perhaps the most interesting is that Harry always seeks to disarm ra...

Still reflecting on Bishop Nikolai's prayer.  Why do we love our enemies? I used to take the train to school in London, and a group of girls from another school took the same train.  For some reason one day they decided to start picking on me, and I went through a period of perhaps a couple of weeks when I felt quite uncomfortable as I travelled home, trying to ignore their taunting.  I guess I was about 13 or 14 at the time.  I asked my mum for advice, and she suggested that I treat them really nicely - the next time you see them, she said, give them a big smile.  So that's what I did: as the ringleader and I got off the train at the same stop, I turned to her and grinned.  She was utterly confused.  I remember she even said something like "What?  What are you doing?".  I never had any trouble from them after that.  It wasn't that I had shamed them through being kind; I had freaked them out by smiling, and they couldn't understand what ...