Far from the shore of righteousness

It seems to me that I am ever so far away from the shore of righteousness. That land which I know contains all goodness and loveliness seems altogether to be out of my reach. Although I know that it is ever near, yet it appears that I can never reach it. I see it with the eyes of my mind, but I can never swim far enough to walk on its green pastures. I always sink. O such is the misery of the worldy man, that he can see the clouds but never touch it. He may jump as high as he can but will never reach it. But look how easily planes fly through the clouds! And whilst I have a heart for righteousness and a body for sin, I can never be happy. It is altogether now impossible to indulge in the world with any happiness, because my heart for righteousness will be very much dejected, which is really the centre of me. But if I follow the course of righteousness, I will be very much happy. But my body will be weary and I should be tired phyiscally, for my flesh would seek to torture me. O, this body of death! Who will deliver me?

Thanks be to Christ who delivers us from this bondage, eventually. And he can do it now. Such is the victory of the cross that Christ can subdue entirely the passions of our flesh, but he does it not at once, and we must struggle, and fight, and prove our worth. We must choose and we have the Spirit for help. O to submit my mind to all that is noble and pure, to meditate on all that is good and to keep away from all things impure. O that is my desire.

How happy I will be on that day when this body is swallowed up by the eternal. Sin shall cease from me forever and I will not miss her.

K.Oni

Building a new nation

I’m writing this morning after the night before. About two hours ago the chief returning officer, Mary Pitcaithly, confirmed that Scotland will not be leaving the UK. Like so many others I stayed up all night to watch the conclusion to this unprecedented exercise in democracy where 85 per cent of eligible voters took the biggest constitutional decision in UK democratic history. 
 
And so we stay. 
 
After all the debate, all the campaigning, all the passion and all the argument, the people of Scotland have made their choice and the UK will not be the same.
 
It’s hard to describe what these last few weeks have felt like. Politics has been everywhere – the talk of the playground, the building site, the swimming pool and the church. At a time of cynicism in the Western world there has been a reinvigoration of civic engagement and debate as politics once again has actually mattered.
 
The world has been watching and they have seen a nation debate its future without blood, tanks or sword. And they have seen a nation decide to reaffirm its bonds with its neighbours while challenging our leaders to deliver a better governance, not just to Scotland but to everyone in the UK.
 
There is a sense of unfinished business. Not quite so much for Scotland, for in one sense we have finished this season (though there is more devolution coming). Rather the debate now moves to England, Wales and Northern Ireland to decide how they see their own settlement in relation to their neighbours. How do we reflect on what has just passed in Scotland and what may be to come for the rest of the UK?
 
First, we learn to love our neighbour. In Luke 10 the parable of the Good Samaritan contains the telling question ‘Who is my neighbour?’ and in many ways that has been the key question of our debate. As believers we’ve had to consider that question as we vote – am I just voting for what is best for me or am I voting for what is best for my society? And we now have to consider it as we reconcile to those who have passionately disagreed on this question. As a nation we’ve had to consider the very practical question of neighbourly relations – who are my people? What is my nation? Now that we have reaffirmed that the UK will remain as a family of nations how are we to build God-honouring relationships between our own nation and the others that make up this United Kingdom?
 
Second, we must learn to build a just society. Much of the desire (not all) for independence was driven by a sense that the current Westminster political system is fundamentally unjust, particularly to the most vulnerable in society. The Yes wins in Glasgow and Dundee were driven by a heart cry for social justice and for a society of greater equity.  Right throughout scripture we see God’s interest in a just society. From Adam’s initial mandate to the vision of Israel, to the Kings, the Prophets and the ultimate kingdom of God, scripture points us to the values of a godly society. If we do nothing else on the back of this referendum let it be that we build such a society with God’s kingdom values at the heart.
 
Finally, this debate has been about identity. Who am I and what is this nation I call home?  The reason this debate has been felt so closely by so many across the whole UK is that it is about the core of who we are, how we see the world and our place within it. Flags and symbolism are powerful tools and the thought of gaining or losing can have a powerful effect.  Yet as Christians we know our identity is not primarily found in nation or symbol but as adopted children of God. Our citizenship is not in England, Wales, Northern Ireland or Scotland but rather it is in heaven and we eagerly await a saviour from there (Philippians 3:20). Constitutional change is coming but as we consider politics and nationhood we must remember who we are.
 
Scotland has taught us much about democracy and justice through this campaign and we hope these positive effects will start to be felt across the UK. With the decision now made it is time to build a future family of nations with God’s values at the heart.      
 
#What Kind of Nation?
 
Kieran Turner is public policy officer at Evangelical Alliance Scotland 

The secret to being content

Cameron’s Cabinet reshuffle has been all over the news this week. This one has been dominated by the exchange of the ‘white middle-aged men’ in favour of a new generation of female Tory MPs. And, of course, the removal of education secretary Michael Gove from his post, which has propelled many teachers into celebration.

Behind the headlines I can imagine that some of the former Cabinet ministers are devastated at having lost their jobs. Being in Cabinet would have been their life’s work. How easy it would have been for them to have placed their value in their role.

There is also enormous pressure on the new government ministers to perform, with our 24-hour news channels eagle-eyed for any early slip-up or past controversy. They must be under huge stress to not only master their new briefs quickly but also be seen to be doing so. It sounds exhausting.

A performance-driven culture is an exhausting one. Either because we link our identity with a role or we think we’ll only be happy once we’ve achieved a particular milestone. This culture is frantic and never satisfied. Never content.

I was recently treated out to some drinks in a bar in the City of London. It was one of those fancy ones, far above my pay grade. I got chatting to a successful banker there and we were discussing this very topic when he asked: “But why would I want to be content? Surely I should always be trying to get better results from my work? Then I’ll be satisfied.”

The idea of striving for rest is a powerful one in our culture.

Just look at what advertisers point at to try and sell their products. There’s a particular advert currently being shown in the cinema about a property website (I’m not on commission so I won’t mention the company’s name). There’s soft, relaxing music, a narrator who should get a career in reading children’s books, a dog sat by an open fire. A tidy but lived-in house, in which children clearly live but are not seen or heard. It finishes in a house with a seaside view with two chairs set out and a glass of wine just within arms’ reach. And all of this as a reward for the hard work that you’ve put into your career.

It’s an advert not about complacency, but about our ubiquitous desire for peace and rest. Contentment.

But where do we find it?

In the last chapter of his letter to the church in Philippi, Paul announces that he has discovered the secret to being content (Philippians 4:12). The thread of deep-seated joy, regardless of circumstance, is weaved right throughout the letter.

Paul encourages us that we should find our contentment not in our status but in following Christ’s example of humility (Philippians 2:5). If Jesus didn’t consider equality with God something to be grasped, perhaps we should think about the next rung up the career ladder in the same way.

It’s discovered in comparing what we have in Jesus to what the world can offer us, and finding the world wanting (Philippians 3:8). What could compare to knowing, and being known by, Jesus?

And it’s rooted in an eternal perspective that helps us see what will truly last (Philippians 3:20).

So, I think, Paul would suggest to us that contentment is found in something just a bit more substantial than a new job, a Cabinet post or glitzy new possession.

Andy Tuck is the student worker for ChristChurch London. He is a thinker and wannabe adventurer.

Through Satan's Glass

Sin, when viewed by scripture light,
Is a horrid, hateful sight;
But when seen in Satan’s glass,
Then it wears a pleasing face.

When the Gospel trumpet sounds,
When I think how grace abounds,
When I feel sweet peace within,
Then I’d rather die than sin.

When the cross I view by faith,
Sin is madness, poison, death;
Tempt me not, ’tis all in vain,
Sure I ne’er can yield again.

Satan, for awhile debarred,
When he finds me off my guard,
Puts his glass before my eyes,                                               John Newton (1725-1807)
Quickly other thoughts arise.

What before excited fears,
Rather pleasing now appears;
If a sin, it seems so small,
Or, perhaps, no sin at all.

Often thus, through sin’s deceit,
Grief, and shame, and loss I meet,
Like a fish, my soul mistook,
Saw the bait, but not the hook.

O my Lord, what shall I say?
How can I presume to pray?
Not a word have I to plead,
Sins, like mine, are black indeed!

Made, by past experience, wise,
Let me learn thy word to prize;
Taught by what I’ve felt before,
Let me Satan’s glass abhor.

The fallen and the frail

Seventy years ago today more than 150,000 men took to the shores of Normandy in France. They landed at beaches codenamed Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno and Sword. Wind threw the landing crafts off course, and gunfire rained down as the allied troops advanced.  

Together with German forces and civilians, around 9,000 died that day. 

D-Day was the culmination of almost a year's planning. Delayed first by the need for more landing crafts, and then again by high seas and fierce storms, in the early hours of 5 June General Eisenhower decided to launch the invasion.  

That day at a birthday party in Cosham two unlikely people, Harold Checketts and Jean Farren, knew what virtually no one else did. Both naval meteorologists, they had come off shift having plotted the weather charts for the next 24 hours. They knew what was coming. 

For days soldiers had waited in their forward positions along the south coast of England, prepared to move, but stalled from action. They had packed their bags, buttoned their tunics, oiled their guns and were stood down. There was a mix of fear, nervousness and anticipation.  

As Cyril Cook, now 90, of the Parachute Regiment said: "People often ask: 'Weren't you afraid?' What a stupid question! Of course we were afraid, but it was a job and you just got on with it and it was the right job to do."  

War is messy, it is ugly and it is hard. From my perch 70 years on, it is easy to skirt the valour and undermine the sacrifice. War is not something to glorify or celebrate, but it must be remembered. We also look on from history remembering the success, that D-Day was a decisive staging point on the way to victory. 

As the world looks back in remembrance, frail men stand on sand once washed red. And one 89-year-old veteran recreates the parachute jump he took 70 years before.   

Speaking at today’s commemorations Barack Obama said: “We come to tell the story of the men and women who did it, so it remains seared into the memory of the future world. We tell this story for the old soldiers who pull themselves a little straighter today for those who never made it home.” 

When we think of the men who laid down their lives, when we, too, stand a little straighter in remembrance of men who gave it all so that we could have freedom, we can see that their deaths helped achieve something. But it wasn't always that way. 

In the Church calendar we are between Ascension and Pentecost. Between when Jesus returned to heaven and when his Holy Spirit came to the disciples waiting in the upper room. They had travelled so far, they had walked with him through his ministry, watched him die and rise again, placed their fingers in the holes that scarred his hands. He promised he would send his spirit to be with them. And they waited. The anticipation and the nervousness. They were likely wondering: ‘what if those who opposed Jesus, who executed him, what if they come for us?’  

We can look at their prayerful diligence and know that the Holy Spirit came, that thousands joined them and that the Church was born. Looking back we see what God was doing, but at the time doubt, nervousness and anticipation mix into a cocktail of uncertainty.  

In my life I know I see clearly with hindsight and see how things worked out, and yet, I am often overcome by anxiety in the present. But unlike the soldiers who trod on the beaches in France 70 years ago we know how this story ends. Pegasus Bridge was a key target at the start of the invasion, and holding onto the bridge over the Caen Canal integral to the success of the campaign. Carl Beech from Christian Vision for Men reflects on the sacrifice men gave that day, and the ultimate sacrifice Jesus gave two millennia before. 

We live in the in-between, as the disciples did between Ascension and Pentecost. Between the victory that Christ's death and resurrection assured, and the culmination of the coming of the kingdom of God that we still eagerly await. And like the soldiers on D-Day, we are not idle while we wait.

Danny Webster is advocacy programme manager at the Evangelical Alliance 

The tired old mouse

The cat at twelve MEOW MEOW

The dog at one WOOF WOOF

The bird at two TWEET TWEET

Causing the tired old mouse to curse not sleep. 

K.Oni

I wish this day for a death to die

I wish this day a death to die
So my soul in peace may lie
Tranquil, abandoned from the world's delight,
Where I had no portion sweet,
Save misery, loneliness and two sullen eyes. 
A forlorn heart, and a pang of mind
Bid me sit by misery's street,
Where I no more strength to see
The hope which each day does bring.
Whether sun or candle, its all black to me
Praying death will come and greet me quick,
Today, today, tonight, dear death do not delay,
And let us eschew beloved lady courtesy.
I wish this day a death to die,
With tears I plea to go in peace.
And if by violence, violence shall sing
A melody that will make my happy soul feel,
That the realms of peace shall soon be mine
Free at last from life's cruel design. 
I wish this day a death to die
Not me but the sin which makes me decline.
I wish for him for a death to die
So my soul in peace may lie.

K.Oni