In our journey through Matthew we have, over the course of the last few weeks, heard many of the parables that Jesus told during the course of his short ministry here on earth. Several of the parables have involved seeds and the sowing of seed and last week Philip left us with the question “What sort of seed are you?” During the course of my talk this morning I shall be asking a similar question.

 

This morning’s reading, the Feeding of the Five Thousand, occurs in all four gospels and there is a further account of a similar event known as the Feeding of the Four Thousand in Mark and Matthew. The inclusion of six separate accounts in the Bible of what may have been just a single event may well be part of the reason why the story is amongst the best known. But what type of story is it? Is it a Miracle or is it a Parable? I would like to suggest that it is both.

There can be no doubt that the miracles performed by Jesus helped to spread his name rapidly across Galilee and Judea and to draw the crowds to see him. Indeed, in John’s Gospel we are told that the Five Thousand had gathered ‘because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick.’ Through his performance of miracles, and in particular, his healing of the sick and feeding of those in need, we are given a vivid insight into the love and compassion of God. A love that has no boundaries and extends to all: Man and Woman - Jew and Gentile. And what a blessing that insight has proved to be to us and to countless millions of believers over the centuries. The knowledge that we have a God who feels our pain and loves and cares for us as his children.

But what of the Feeding of the Five Thousand as a parable? Much has been written on this subject. Some writers have looked back to parallels in the Old Testament such as Elisha taking 20 loaves of barley to feed a hundred people in the Second Book of Kings or the story of Moses and the falling of manna, or bread from heaven in Exodus. Others have looked forward to parallels with the Last Supper, the Eucharist and the Messianic Banquet. Both make fascinating reading, but this morning I would like to tease out what to me is at the centre of the story by looking at it from the point of view of the boy mentioned in John’s account of the story.

All four Gospel writers tell us that there were five loaves and two fish but only John tells us where they came from: ‘there is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish.’ We don’t know anything else about him, but we do know that that boy gave up what he had in order that the multitude could be fed. Let us think about that a little more. How many people would five loaves and two fishes feed under normal circumstances? It depends rather upon the size of the loaves which we don’t know, but they were likely to be rather closer to the size of what we would call a bun rather than that of a Mighty White Sliced Loaf! We know a little more about the fish as some of the gospel writers do tell us that they were small. So, how many would this packed lunch have fed? Five people perhaps? That would be a bun each and less than half a fish. Maybe if the loaves were a little bigger it could have been stretched to 10 but more than that and the ration would be getting a little meagre. That would suggest that Jesus miraculously produced the food for at least 4990 people from thin air. If he could do that, it is reasonable to suggest that he could equally well have produced the food for the full 5000 from thin air – but that is not what happened. For the miracle to occur, Jesus asked someone, in this case the boy, to give up what he had for the benefit of those who had nothing. That, for me, is the key to this story.

Put yourself, if you would, in the place of that boy as he saw Andrew, a big, burley fisherman, striding through the crowds looking for food. You’ve got these five barley loaves and two fish but no-one else around you seems to have got anything to eat at all and there are thousands of them! What are you going to do? What thoughts are racing through your mind as Andrew gets nearer and nearer? ‘I’m hungry. I’ve been out in the desert for hours. I’ve no idea how long it will take me to get home. I need this food for myself. I thought ahead and brought it with me. If other people didn’t think, that’s their lookout. I’m keeping it for myself.’ Might you have thought in that way, at least for a while?

But wait! Maybe you were not just carrying the food for yourself: ‘this food is not just for me’ you rationalise, ‘it’s for my family and friends and neighbours. I have a responsibility to keep it for them. I’m not going to give it to Andrew to share with all these people who I don’t even know!’ Might that have been your reaction?

Or perhaps you had neither of these responses. Perhaps you heard Jesus talking to the crowds a few months ago: ‘Blessed are the merciful’ you remember him saying. ‘Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.’ ‘In everything, do to others as you would have them do to you.’ Inspired by the wisdom and authority of this itinerant preacher from Galilee you were determined to live your life according to his word and so handed over the loaves and fishes to Andrew without giving it a second thought.

We shall never know what thoughts went through the mind of that boy as he clutched his parcel of food on the mountain side 2000 years ago, but we do know what goes through our mind when we see an appeal on television or pick up the Christian Aid envelope that drops out of the Gazette onto the floor. How does our response to the needs of others compare with the possible responses I have suggested of the boy on the mountain?

I suspect that we all like to feel that we do better than the totally selfish response of wanting to keep everything for ourselves. I suspect also that few of us would claim to follow the teaching of Jesus entirely in both our thoughts and our actions without a second thought. Such devotion is beyond all but a very few whom we rightly revere as Saints.

That leaves most of us, to some extent or another, occupying the middle ground of willingly extending our help to family, friends and near-neighbours but still hesitant when asked to extend it yet further. Jesus was well aware of this human failing and tackled it head on in another of his well-known parables – The Good Samaritan. In that story he made it clear that we are all neighbours and that we must help anyone who is in need; not just those with whom we live in close proximity. So how can we use the story of the Feeding of the Five Thousand to help us to extend our horizons further and care for all our brothers and sisters in this great global village in which we now live?  I suggest that we remember that for a miracle to happen, someone has to give up something of what they have for the benefit of those who have not – and that someone is me and you.

Sometimes the cause and effect are easy to see. The response to the Asian Tsunami a few years ago saw millions of people in the west give up a little of what they had and the miracle in terms of relief for the suffering happened before our eyes. In other cases the cause and effect is not so clear.

Every time we go shopping we make decisions that will affect our neighbours somewhere in the world. We may choose to buy food that has been flown in from the far corners of the earth or we may choose produce that has been produced here in the UK. We may choose Fairtrade products or we may go simply for the cheapest. When we make those decisions let us remember that for a miracle to happen, someone has to give up something of what they have for the benefit of those who have not.

Governments too, on our behalf, make decisions that have huge effects on our global neighbours. Encouraging farmers to grow oil-seed rape or use maize for the manufacture of bio fuel in order to keep down the cost of fuel has reduced the quantity of basic staple foods being grown and pushed up their cost to the detriment of the poor. The amount of maize needed to produce just one tank of fuel for a typical family car would feed a family of four in the third world for three months! Using fertile land to grow bio fuel in a world where millions are starving is not the answer to soaring fuel prices. Being prepared to give up some of our use of fuel for the benefit of others is the way for the miracle to happen.

We who live in relative luxury in the western world must take on board the fact that the day-to-day decisions we make have a radical effect on the lives of the poor throughout the world. To “Make Poverty History” will indeed take a miracle: but for that miracle to happen, we must follow the example of that small boy on the mountainside and be prepared to give up something of what we have for the benefit of those who have not.

“The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out labourers into his harvest.”

It was earlier this year, in conversation with a fellow student at college, that I first heard about Street Pastors. Then I read a piece about it in the Sunday Telegraph two weeks ago. I wonder if any of you saw it as well? Street Pastors are described in the article as “part of an interdenominational Christian group of adults moving out of their middle-class, middle-aged comfort zones to make the streets feel safer while they are on patrol...The experiment began in Brixton in 2003, based on a Jamaican model, with trials taking off in London, Manchester and Birmingham. Five years on the street pastor project has spread to small towns and suburbs, where the civilian patrols deal less with gang culture and more with drunkenness and anti-social behaviour. This year, the number of areas patrolled has grown to 70, with 50 more groups planned by the end of this year”. A number of examples of the work they do are given, from which I select just one. “A woman in her early twenties...limps barefoot out of Vodka Revolution Bar, clutching sky-scraper heels. She tip-toes around broken bottles towards a taxi rank. Cathy, a primary school teacher in her fifties, fishes some flip-flops out of a bag to offer the shoeless clubber some protection. Free flip-flops are the latest addition to the street pastors' arsenal of goodwill”. Street pastors do not get involved in law enforcement. If they see trouble, they use a hotline to the local police; and the police welcome the work of street pastors which frees them up to deal with more serious issues. And, as the journalist put it, “to my surprise, it is the hoodies who are hugging the God Squad.’We love you street pastors' passing groups shout, taking pictures with their mobile phones”. Street Pastors are supported by the Home Office and Google will find you a number of websites about them.

“The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out labourers into his harvest.”

Between the elections of Tony Blair as Labour leader in 1994 and of David Cameron as Conservative leader in 2005, little fundamental seemed to divide our major political parties. All were competing for that elusive territory, the middle ground. But, now that may be changing. A major debate is developing concerning the proper role of the State in the life of the citizen. Traditionally, the Left has seen the State as the guarantor and provider of social support to eliminate poverty and to provide services like health, employment and education. If that emphasis was down-played by Tony Blair, the same is unlikely under Gordon Brown. David Cameron, on the other hand, argues for a reduction of the role of central government in favour of individual self-reliance and, importantly, social help and support determined and provided, so far as possible, by local communities through local councils, self-help organisations and charities. This difference of approach is potentially significant; and as the debate continues, it cannot be taken for granted that New Labour will continue to argue for centralised delivery over local community-based activism. It will not surprise you, I suspect, to learn that David Cameron enthused over the Street Pastor scheme. He said earlier this year, “It's absolutely fantastic the job street pastors are doing...What we need is more people out in the community supporting the police, who can't do the job of beating anti-social behaviour on their own”.

 

Now, whilst I think that Cameron’s idea has much to commend it, it is not my purpose this morning to argue that Christians should vote Conservative at the next General Election. My purpose is to link Cameron’s idea with our Gospel reading, so that, if it is given wings, as well it might be, Christians will be ready to take full advantage of the opportunity it will provide to labour in the Lord’s harvest.

 

“The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out labourers into his harvest.”

God calls every human being into a loving relationship with him. Not everyone answers that call; but you and I have. That's why we're here this morning. And answering God’s call to enter into a relationship with him makes us his disciples. There are many reasons why people come to church; they like singing; they welcome the chance to join in prayer and worship; they like to come and chat with their friends. None of those motives is to be despised; all are to be welcomed. But we must remember Archbishop Rowan’s gentle warning:

“The view that the Church is essentially a lot of people who have something in common called Christian faith and get together to share it with each other and communicate it to other people ‘outside’…looks a harmless enough view at first, but it is a good way from what the New Testament encourages us to think about the Church”.¹

God’s call to us is not only to enter into a loving relationship with him. As every human being is created in his image and he in-dwells each one of us, to be in a loving relationship with God, to love him as he loves us, requires us also to love one another. And loving one another requires us to do more than just to come to church.

“The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out labourers into his harvest.”

The Lord's labourers are disciples like us. And disciples make a serious mistake in assuming that the sort of Christian activism that really makes a difference, like street pastoring, is the preserve of ministers: priests, deacons, readers, pastoral assistants and parish evangelists; any more than police officers and judges, for that matter, can mend society. The imperative of going out into the Lord’s harvest, of ministering to the needy, is the task of every Christian. I am not suggesting for one moment that all of us should become street pastors. As St Paul tells us more than once, the Holy Spirit has equipped us with many and various gifts [e.g. 1 Cor 12:4-11]; but Jesus warns us that our talents are not to be buried or guarded; they must be put to use and at risk in the service of God [Matt 25:14-30].

 

There is a new spirit abroad in England, a new conversation as to how to address the problems of our society. The idea that this is the sole prerogative of the State has been tried, not only here, but across the world and been found wanting. In the Soviet Union, in China, in Cuba and elsewhere, its ideologically purest manifestation, communism, has been tested to destruction. State care is well-meaning, but it lacks the Gospel quality of love; of love exercised by individuals at community level, where, like the Good Samaritan, people take personal responsibility for the delivery of relief and the meeting of need. After the next General Election, whoever wins it, the old approach really may be abandoned in favour of the new. If and when that happens, the Church, Christ’s disciples, you and I, must be ready to meet that challenge, to answer the call to be labourers in the Lord’s harvest; just as street pastors are doing now.

 

“The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out labourers into his harvest.”

 

By the grace of God, when the call comes, we shall not be found wanting.

¹Williams, R. (2005). The Christian Priest Today. Justice Reflections. 68 (9) p.2.

Palm Sunday

 

            In the late summer of 1996, we were on our way to Lords to see Northamptonshire play Lancashire in the final of the Benson and Hedges Cup. In St. John’s Wood Road, we bumped into an acquaintance from these parts. A man of independent means, about 12 years older than me, sporting a very smart and expensive panama with (crucially in this context) an MCC hat band.

 

            That’s the end of the story. There’s no punch line and the only joke that day was Northamptonshire’s batting.

 

            My description of this panama wearing MCC member is selective and intended to convey something (but not all) about him. Listeners will supplement the picture and fill in gaps according to their personalities and experience.

 

            Some people will immediately have formed (with approval) a picture of a cricket-loving, Daily Telegraph reading, gentleman amateur and member of the Establishment.

 

Others will have gained an impression of a fuddy-duddy old reactionary, who probably disapproved of the sporting boycott of South Africa and is determined to exclude women from his inner sanctums.

 

            Both judgements, as they relate to the whole man, as he really is, would be wholly wrong.

 

            Those making them would have been indulging in 1. isogesis ­ - an excellent theological jargon word. It means interpreting by imposing your own ideas on the story or text; as opposed to exegesis, which means interpreting by drawing the meaning from what is there in the story or text.

 

            And what’s more, his wife told me last week that he has never owned a panama hat in his life.

 

According to the gospel of John, there was this exchange between Pilate and Jesus: 2. “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” Pilate then asked Jesus, “What is truth?” [John 18.38].

 

Scripture is the foundation of our faith: the basis of what we believe and how we should behave.

 

As we read the Bible, Pilate’s penetrating question needs to be asked again and again. And answering it demands discernment.

 

Or, to put it another way, religion for grown ups.

 

This is the hallmark of Protestant Christianity. For it, many people suffered oppression or even death. We have inherited a Bible in our language. We can read and interpret it for ourselves. Of course, to do so we are helped by the accumulated wisdom of the church, our reason, and our experience. But we are autonomous human beings and our minds and our hearts are ours.

 

I say ‘hearts’ because this is not a dry, academic exercise. It is a sincere search for ultimate truth with which the deepest parts of our personalities are engaged.

 

Truth is not just a matter of what can be mechanically recorded or tested in a laboratory. Its expression does not depend on literal, factual accuracy. King Lear is not an historical figure. He does not have dates you can learn at school. And yet Shakespeare’s play explores the most profound truths about what it means, psychologically and politically, to be a human being.

 

            Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem is a good example of all this.

 

            Let’s start with a small detail. Was it one donkey or two? Matthew says two. The other gospels say one. Let’s look at what the prophecy reported in Matthew actually said rather than what the evangelist said it said.

 

3.         “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! / Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! / Lo, your king comes to you; / triumphant and victorious is he, / humble and riding on a donkey, / on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” [Zechariah 9.9]

 

            This is just an example of parallelism: saying the same thing twice slightly differently.

 

It seems that the evangelist simply misunderstood Zechariah and, in his anxiety to make events fit the prophecy, altered them. Each of the other Gospels has only one beast and not necessarily a donkey.

 

            All of the Synoptic Gospels [1st 3] imply that the getting of the donkey was the result of some sort of supernatural foresight on Jesus’ part. The real reason could perfectly well be a sensible arrangement made in advance. Or chance. John merely says: 4. Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it. [John 12.14]

 

            What about a much bigger question, the story’s historicity – did something like this happen at all?

 

The triumphal entry is one of the surprisingly few things to be found, in some form, in all four gospels. That implies that it was deeply embedded in early tradition.

 

However, when it comes to the descriptions of the so-called ‘trial’ of Jesus there is no reference to the event. This is odd as, if it happened, the triumphal entry related directly to the issue at the trial: who did Jesus claim to be?

 

Perhaps that says more about the accuracy of the accounts of the trial than it does about the triumphal entry.

 

What was all the fuss about?

 

The evangelists all describe Jesus as presenting himself in a way which could only outrage the Jewish religious establishment and alarm the Romans: entering Jerusalem as a Messianic, Dividic, warrior king who, having conquered, would bring peace.

 

            The Synoptic Gospels imply the sense that, whatever Jesus was trying to convey about himself, people were simply shouting ‘Hosannas’ at the arrival of the prophet from Galilee. As to who he was: “Son of David” is about as strong as it gets.

 

            John, however, says that it was all about the raising of Lazarus:

5.  “So the crowd that had been with him when he called Lazarus out of the tomb and raised him from the dead continued to testify. It was also because they heard that he had performed this sign that the crowd went to meet him.” [John 12.17-18]

 

            Who was doing all the shouting? Matthew and Mark just say they were people or crowds. John says they were pilgrims. Luke’s account is precise and different: 6. “... the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen.” [Luke 19.37]

 

If Luke is right, that old chestnut of the fickle mob is laid to rest: that the same people who acclaimed him were, a few days later, calling for his death. In fact, when you read the gospels you will find that there is, simply, no biblical support for this contention.

 

            What about the palms? Only John says that there were any. Matthew has branches cut from the trees. Mark has leafy branches cut from the fields. Luke has only cloaks.

 

            7. “others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road” [Matthew 21.8]; “others spread leafy branches that they had cut from the fields” [Mark 11.8]

 

When did this event occur? The crowd’s cries echo psalm 118:

8. Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord./We bless you from the house of the Lord./The Lord is God, and he has given us light./Bind the festal procession with branches, up to the horns of the altar.” [Psalm 118.26-7]

 

The waving of palms and using the words of this psalm reflect practices at the Feast of the Tabernacles or the Feast of Dedication (respectively in autumn and winter). Passover is in the spring.

 

This has led to the idea that Jesus might have arrived in Jerusalem much earlier than the gospels suggest or that another visit by Jesus to Jerusalem is being described.

 

Even scratching the surface in this way shows the difficulty of trying to take these ancient texts at face value. However, as we explore them, we find that great, simply expressed themes recur and resonate, at the heart of which is this: that we must love God and each other; and that, through love, we may hope to be united with each other and with God - decisively and eternally.

 

            Beside the truth of these great themes, the factual truth of Biblical detail is unimportant. We can be completely at ease with imagery and factual inconsistency. But we must constantly search for the truth of what the Bible actually says and not impose on it what we think it ought to say.

 

            I am not going to say what I think about the triumphal entry to Jerusalem. You can read the story for yourselves. Read about it for yourselves. And think about it for yourselves.

 

But as you do so remember the man in the panama. Or not.

 

Today the whole Anglican union is prevailed upon to pray for Zimbabwe.  We are called upon, as Christians of all denominations in all nations, to focus our prayers today on the critical situation in Zimbabwe, a nation in dire distress and teetering on the brink of human disaster.
In dedicating this sermon about the Holy Spirit to the people of Zimbabwe I pray:
God of glory and unquenchable spirit, may your Son direct us afresh to the fire of your presence where nothing may amaze us more than your love, nothing may inspire us more than your forgiveness and nothing dazzle us more than your beauty, disclosed to us in your world, your story and your Son Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

This little box of tricks is called a ‘Satnav’.  A fair number of people here will have one and will use it on a regular basis.  It replaces maps and it audibly tells us how to get from one place to another in the car.  It’s amazing. By referencing itself to signals emitted from three satellites it can locate itself within 10 metres.  We call ours ‘Jimmy’ for no good reason.  More amazingly you can choose the voice it speaks with.  Margaret elects for Jimmy’s husky masculine drawl.  A colleague has the voice of John Cleese on his – just imagine!  I prefer the authoritative and romantic intones of Jemima who guides me effortlessly to obscure places in Oldham, Rochdale or Liverpool.  Unfortunately, I recently left it set on the ‘motorway route’ preference and when Margaret used it to get to an address in Corby she found herself routed via Northampton and Birmingham and then back on the M69 to Leicester. It was only when she was on the outskirts of Crewe that she realised she had been misled.  No, I jest. But it can mislead and literally take you up the garden path unless you give it very clear instructions.

On the face of it, that has nothing to do with today’s gospel reading from John, but I ask you just to park the idea of the Satnav somewhere in your mind for the next few minutes and then we’ll come back to it. Two phrases from this morning’s reading, and one from a few verses further on, characterise the poetry and majesty of John’s writing.  They are: (firstly) ‘I will ask the Father and he will give you another Counsellor to be with you for ever’; (secondly) ‘On that day you will realise that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you’; (thirdly – later on) ’Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you’.  I don’t know about you but every time I hear those phrases it sends a little shiver through me and subsequently I feel a warm and comforting glow. The setting for these wonderful words is the conversation between Jesus and his disciples as they celebrated the feast of the Passover at an evening supper.  Known as the last supper it is a key event in the Jesus story, placed between the triumphal entry into Jerusalem and the betrayal, trial and crucifixion.  John describes the conversation in considerable detail - much more so than in any of the other gospels.  This level of intimate detail, combined with the often complex, but beautiful, language and imagery the writer uses, strikes a big difference between John’s Gospel and those of Matthew, Mark and Luke.   It’s worth pausing for a moment to explore the reasons for this difference. The key point here is that John was an eye witness – he was actually there.  This is in contrast to the other Gospels written for distinctive audiences by folk who were steeped in the Jesus story but who received it second hand.  John was, I quote, ‘the disciple who Jesus loved’ and there are no less than five indications of this in the text.  Theologians think that the gospel was probably written a little later than the synoptic gospels and one of the purposes was to supplement or even possibly correct the writings of Matthew, Mark and Luke.  He aimed to appeal to Greek thinkers and his main purpose was expressed clearly in chapter 20: ‘These things are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name’.. It must have been scary for the disciples, John included.  Here was Jesus foretelling of his own destruction and invoking a new piece of the jigsaw – the Holy Spirit.  He promised a friend, a counsellor, an advocate, a helper who would, as it says in verse 18, not leave them orphaned.  He was also telling them that this Spirit would live within them and that Jesus would be with the Father and that they were all one.  Here was the first indication of what we now happily and often uncritically accept as the Holy Trinity. Yes, the cross would separate those on earth from Jesus, whom they would not see again, but he would always be there for them – providing they loved him and followed his command.  Through this they would have life eternal. But remember, all this was said before the crucifixion, before the resurrection, before his recorded subsequent eleven appearances, before the ascension and before the Holy Spirit actually came to them, as described in Acts.  We have the benefit of knowing the whole story. For them this was complex, scary and subject to disbelief.  For them, accepting what Jesus said was the supreme act of faith and Jesus knew that.  In verse 27 (a bit later on) he empathises with them and prevails on them: ‘do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid’.  I don’t know what you think, but if I’d been there I would have been, as my children would say, using today’s vernacular, ‘well scared’! From our frail human position it’s not surprising that Peter denied, that Thomas doubted and that Judas became irrational.  Ask yourself and reflect on what your reaction would have been.  Would you have happily accepted all this, stuck with Jesus to the bitter end and then gone out and preached his good news?  Or would you have done a runner and gone back to family, friends, central heating, home comforts and soap operas on TV? The great and good news is that they did stick with it, and that through them (the disciples) we have come to hear the goods news for ourselves.  And that is just what Jesus wanted.  He wanted his disciples to go forward in faith and comfort, guided and supported by this new third party, the Holy Spirit, to bring the Father’s love to us all.  He wanted us all to know, through his sacrifice on the cross and subsequent separation from us, that we could live in him and he in us. You know, it just doesn’t get much better than that and we should rejoice in knowing that the mighty counsellor, the friend and guide, the supporter and helper is here among us and in us forever.  All we need to do, as it says in verse 21, is know Jesus’ commands and obey them. The Holy Spirit that Jesus promised may have come to you with a bang and in a moment of cataclysmic revelation or it may have crept quietly upon you and be there without you knowing. But whichever way, if you seek it, it will be there.  That’s what Jesus promised his disciples and if we become a disciple too, it will be there for us. Now, back for a moment to Satnavs.  Have you seen the connection?  For me, it’s this.  The Satnav is akin to the Holy Spirit –there to guide and direct, support and provide.  The requirement for me is to a) set my linkage to it correctly so that b) I can here what it says in order to go to the right place. I can choose the voice through which I hear it and the options for this we have as Christians are the four gospels and the epistles that supplement them.  I said earlier that I prefer the intonation of Jemima on our car based Satnav.  But which of the gospel writers would I personally prefer to hear about the Holy Spirit from? That’s easy and that’s why it is a great joy to preach this morning from my favourite gospel – the one according to John.  I love the language, I love the poetry, the imagery, the detail and the by ways he takes me along.  If I wanted to go on the motorway I would choose Mark, breathless and fast paced.  If I wanted verification that I was on the right road I’d choose Matthew.  If I wanted detailed acquaintance with the map maker I would choose Luke. So there.  He we are.  Our first look in this year’s Christian calendar at the foretelling of the Holy Spirit.  Now, it’s time for me to set this week’s homework and here it is:  Three questions each to be written up neatly and handed in for marking next Sunday.

1.Are you still and quiet enough, often enough, to hear the voice of the Holy Spirit in your life?

2.Can you take the same leap of faith that the scared disciples took in order to carry the good news onwards and outwards?
3. If we only ever had John’s gospel what would our Christian belief look like?

To answer the third question you need to read it.  Perhaps the best couple of hours you could invest.  Amen.

When Jesus said, as we have just heard, ‘I am the good shepherd’, he was on his way to Jerusalem; not for the last time, but during the winter, for the feast of Hanukah or Dedication. He was a lad up from the country to visit the big city and, as so often he did, and as had been done by the psalmist and the prophets, he made use of rural imagery to reveal the nature of God; the God now incarnate in him. The image of the shepherd would have been familiar to the country folk of Galilee; and, indeed, to almost everyone in the world in those far-off days. Even the city dwellers of Jerusalem and of other cities were not so separated from the countryside and its dynamics for the image of the good shepherd not to resonate with them. Indeed, in Matthew’s Gospel, in the week leading up to the Crucifixion, we find Jesus preaching to the crowd in Jerusalem using rural images; a fig-tree and a vineyard. Just as we might employ an instantly recognisable icon like a Ferrari or a Luis Vuitton bag to make a point about the gap between rich and poor, so Jesus used images familiar to his listeners like shepherds and sowers to get his message over to them. 

Recently, mankind passed a significant milestone on its long journey on Planet Earth. For the first time, more humans live in cities and towns than in the countryside. And because of the size of today’s cities – Mumbai or Bombay, Cairo and the like are forecast to top 20 million inhabitants soon – compared with, say, Jerusalem in the first century, the lives of today’s urban-dwellers are disconnected from the country-side. For most, it’s something through which to travel on the way to another city; for fewer, it’s a place of recreation, where sheep are simply part of the landscape rather than a source of livelihood for the shepherd and food for the supermarket shelf. For them, the country-side is a lost Elysium where the harshness of urban life can be submerged in an unrealistic vision of pastures where ‘sheep may safely graze’. This disconnect from the reality of nature, this cultural gap between town and country, is typically characterised by acrimony born of ignorance over issues like bovine tuberculosis, field sports and landscape management. For the majority of human-beings, not just in England, but world-wide, the imagery of Psalm 23 and of Jesus as ‘the good shepherd’ no longer resonates.

Jesus points out in this morning’s reading that the role of the good shepherd is to lay down his life for his sheep; as he would do a few weeks later. And, as we sing in the Jubilate, ‘we are his people and the sheep of his pasture’, the sheep whom Jesus promises to protect from the wolf. As Jesus taught in the Parable of the Lost Sheep [Lk 15:3-7], when he loses one sheep out of a hundred, he will leave the ninety-nine until he finds it; and when he does, ‘he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices’. Well, most of his sheep may have abandoned rural pastures for the illusory security of the big city, but they still get lost. Day after day, the dock in my court is occupied by young men and women who have gone out, had too much to drink, got involved in a fight and now face charges of wounding and assault. Sober, they regret what they did and contemplate prison and the loss of job, home and family; lost sheep of the city streets.

I wonder; is it a coincidence that religious belief and observance has declined and secularism grown with the march of mankind into the housing estates of Europe and the United States, the barrios of South America and the shanty towns of Africa and Asia? The rural dweller is in daily touch with God’s creation; sun-rises and sun-sets; the miracle of Spring; the night-sky; the music of the birds; the rhythm of the sea on the shore. For so many urban-dwellers, night is distinguished from day by street-lights; Summer is the season of smog; rain is but an inconvenience; and there’s neither a sheep nor a shepherd in view. 

Jesus pursued his ministry in a rural world using rural imagery, but his message is as relevant in today’s world, whether urban or rural, as it was then, as I know when I see the lost sheep in my court; and as we all know when we read the newspaper, watch television or listen to the radio; but much of the imagery Jesus employed – not all of it, but much of it – fails to strike a chord in today’s concrete jungles. We should not abandon Jesus’ imagery; but rather we must conjure up a parallel imagery consonant with mean streets; with teeming millions crowded together in tenements, terraces and shacks; so that we Christians can reach out in Jesus’ name to his urban sheep that still and will always need the good shepherd to guard and to guide them; and can seek out the lost ones so as to bring them home on our shoulders, rejoicing. And what might that parallel imagery be? I can sense you asking. As a country-dweller all my adult life, with no experience of urban living, I regret that I cannot say. It would be presumptuous of me to try. But the role of preacher and prophet is as much to diagnose as to cure. The Church, in which I include every major Christian denomination, wrestles with the problems of falling numbers of disciples, clerical and lay. It tried the Decade of Evangelism; it didn’t work. Now we’ve got Hope’08; and we all pray that it will do better. But the thought I share with you this morning is this. Christianity, like Judaism, originated in and is culturally identified with the natural world beyond the city wall; and Christianity has lost touch with most of its flock because the sheep within the city wall neither know a pasture nor recognise a shepherd. If that diagnosis is accurate, then collectively, we the Church, the Body of Christ, must acknowledge and address it, so that Christianity can resume its long march on the way to the Kingdom of God.

Something that always strikes me about the four Gospels is how concentrated they are; this is especially so when you realise that each is not just a biography of a Galilean preacher, Jesus, who, much to everyone’s surprise, turned out to be rather more than just that; but each Gospel is a theological treatise, containing a message – God’s message to sinful humanity – the most important message ever; and not a simple message either, such as we might exchange at Christmas or on a birthday. Christians believe it to be the definitive message that leaves nothing more to be said. All humanity needs to do is to ‘read, mark, learn and inwardly digest it’. And yet all this ‘stuff’, biography and message is concentrated in four short manuscripts; three of which, the synoptic Gospels, duplicate much – but not all – of the text. 

I have always been fascinated by revolutionary figures; people who have caught the world’s imagination and changed the course of humanity, both for good and for ill. Jesus was and is the archetypical example. As a teenager, I was rivetted by Alan Bullock’s biography of Adolf Hitler, upon which I shall not dwell. A few months ago, I bought a copy of a biography of Che Guevara; and here it is. Like the Gospels, it contains a biography and a message. Jesus’ active ministry is said to have lasted two or three years. Guevara’s lasted ten; from 1957 until his death in 1967. In my Bible [NRSV], the Gospels take up 126 pages; roughly 76,000 words. This biography of Che Guevara contains 754 pages or roughly 302,000 words. I make no comment this morning on the contents; the truth is that I haven’t found time to read it yet. But my point is clear, I hope. It is the intensity, the concentrated nature of the Gospels that fascinates. This morning’s reading from St John’s Gospel exemplifies this. In just four verses it touches upon four theologically complex themes; Resurrection; God’s Peace or Shalom; the Holy Spirit; and Absolution. A separate sermon could be preached on each; indeed, much more can be said about each of them than can be packed into a sermon of tolerable length. So you’ll be relieved to learn that I am going to be selective. I have chosen to say a few words about the theme that has aroused and continues to arouse controversy within the ranks of the Christian faithful; namely Absolution. 

Apart from the Passion narrative, one struggles to discover points of similarity between John’s Gospel on the one hand; and the synoptic Gospels upon the other; but we find accounts of Jesus bestowing authority to absolve upon his apostles in Matthew’s Gospel. In our reading this morning, Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit into the disciples and says; ‘Whosoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them”. In Matthew 16, Jesus announces that Simon Peter is the rock upon which his church will be built; and then, ‘I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven’; and the declaration is repeated a little later in Matthew 18.

The authority bestowed by Jesus in these scenes is the authority to pardon offences or to forgive sins, whichever phrase you prefer. In other words, it is the power to reverse what God did to Adam and Eve when he expelled them from the Garden of Eden. Sin separates us from God; it causes a breakdown in our relationship with God. If I wrong my wife, my relationship with her is fractured. However, if I apologise to her and she accepts my apology, then our relationship is mended. But what about my relationship with God? I can say sorry to God, but how do I know whether my apology has been accepted? That’s what troubled the Jews. They never knew whether they were really at one with God; so they engaged in sacrifices and sent scapegoats off into the desert in the hope of appeasing God’s anger with them for their sinfulness. It was all a bit hit and miss. The difficulty was that only God could forgive sin. That’s what upset the Pharisees about Jesus. When he healed a paralytic with the words, ‘Friend, your sins are forgiven you’ [Luke 5:20]; the Pharisees complained; ‘Who is this who is speaking blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God alone?’ [ibid 5:21]. Christians believe that Jesus was and is God; so he had the power to forgive sins; but upon his departure from this world as a human being, this priceless benefit would be lost. Jesus resolved the dilemma that had faced the Jews by authorising his disciples to exercise his divine and exclusive power to forgive a person’s sins and to restore that person’s relationship with God. The power belonged to God and so its delegation was in his exclusive gift. A central truth of our Easter faith is that he did delegate it; and so enabled each one of us to be redeemed and to be re-assured that we are.

So when some folk, usually from a non-conformist tradition, argue that priests are unnecessary; rejecting their role as interveners in the relationship between God and the faithful, they expressly reject this central truth about Christianity. Today’s priest is vested with the same authority as the disciples in succession to whom he or she stands; the very same disciples to whom Jesus delegated his power to forgive sins on the very evening of the day of his Resurrection as we have heard this morning. The Christian priest is neither an obstacle nor an unwelcome interloper, but a bridge and a mediator between God and the faithful. Of course, I am not saying that, from time to time, the privilege of priesthood is not abused; priests, like the disciples, are only human; sinners like the rest of us. But to argue that they are unnecessary misunderstands the very nature of Jesus’ mission; and of the unique role of the Christian priest in his divine scheme. And, of course, the priest brings with him shalom, God’s peace, as Jesus did on that same evening to his troubled followers.

What on earth were they supposed to do now? They’d left everything to follow Him; homes, families, businesses; three years of their lives given over to following this rabbi; what teaching! what mighty power to heal the sick! Where He was the world had seemed a better place; and so they’d thought He was the one promised in scripture who’d establish God’s rule; they had hoped that their arrival in Jerusalem this Passover – to cheers and waved palm branches - would mark some new chapter in God’s dealings with Israel; they had hoped that somehow through Jesus this Passover God’s Kingdom would come.

What on earth were they supposed to do now? The hoped for Saviour had died a disgraceful criminal’s death – abandoned by the God they thought had sent Him. They’d left everything to follow Him – and all for nothing; and now they hide away; ashamed – they deserted Him; scared – they fear a similar death; and in despair – their dreams are gone.

And now confused too. Women speak of empty tombs. Peter, Cleopas and others - surely the wishful thinking -  claim to have seen Him alive. What on earth are they supposed to do now?

While they were still talking about this, writes Luke Jesus Himself stood among them and said to them, "Peace be with you… Why are you troubled, and why do doubts rise in your minds?” …He showed them His hands and feet… They still did not believe it because of joy and amazement

‘Jesus Himself stood among them... He showed them His hands and His feet... they still did not believe because of joy and amazement.’

It’s been quite a week for the disciples. From the euphoria of Palm Sunday to the despair of Good Friday and the bleak emptiness of Holy Saturday – it’s been quite a week. Well might we understand them struggling to keep up – to adjust to this last a most wonderful of developments. Jesus - bodily physically really - again among them – death defeated.

And the question, ‘What on earth do we do now?’ still completely relevant. With joy and amazement they see Him alive again. Surely truly the beginning of something new. But what? ‘What on earth do they do now?’

We’ve come to the last sermon in our series looking at the story of God’s dealings with human beings through the bible from Genesis to Revelation. We therefore look at this wonderful Easter reading asking ‘where does it fit in the story of God and His people?’ And in our passage Jesus Himself gives an answer. He says to them in verse 44, "This is what I told you …: Everything must be fulfilled that is written about Me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms."

Here in Luke 24 we stand at the turning point in the history of God’s dealings with His people. The story of Israel; the story of Abraham, Moses, David; the words of the prophets – all have been pointing forward to this man on this day; to Jesus, His death on a cross and His Resurrection.

This story of God and His people can be likened to a 5 act play.

In Act 1 God created the Universe, and a world, and human beings. He longs for humans to be in relationship with Him but they reject Him and spoil the beautiful world He made. Act 1: The Creator God is rejected -  where we started our sermon series  back on January 27^th.

In Act 2 God begins to put right what’s gone wrong. He reveals Himself to one man – Abraham – who he makes into a nation from whom He promises to bless all the peoples of the earth. He gives them His laws and calls them to be a model to the nations of the earth – showing what it is like to live in relationship with God. To reflect how God wishes things to be. Israel is, however, only ever a pale reflection of how things are supposed to be. The people aren’t always faithful; the Kings often bad and God’s laws often neglected. Nevertheless the prophets look forward to a day when God’s true King would come and all the nations of the earth hear of God’s love. That was Act 2: God chooses Israel to prepare the way for His King.

Then comes the middle Act Act 3 : a cross and an empty tomb standing at the very centre. Just as prophets foretold God’s true King Jesus comes to His people is rejected and dies. And yet it is through His death that He opens a way for people from all nations to enter into a relationship with God. "This is what I told you” says Jesus to the disciples at this turning point in history, “Everything must be fulfilled that is written about Me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms." That is Act 3: Through Jesus God makes it possible for all to know God.

‘Then’ writes Luke, ‘He opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures. He told them, "This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in His name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.”’

And so begins of Act 4 of our 5 Act drama. ‘Repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in His name to all nations.’ ‘All the peoples of the earth will be blessed through you.’ God told Abraham. The promise to Abraham fulfilled in Jesus. Through Israel came Jesus. And through Jesus the possibility of a new relationship with God for people of every nation. ‘Repentance for the  forgiveness of sins is to be preached in His name to all the nations of the earth.’ ‘What on earth do we now?’ ask the disciples. Take the message of Jesus to every corner of the earth. That is the work of Act 4 of the drama. An Act that begins with the these huddled disciples and continues with us today at St Peter’s church in Oundle. All the nations of the earth need to hear about God’s love and forgiveness – the people of Oundle in 2008 too. Act 4 is still underway and we are part of it.

But there will be an Act 5 and the Bible gives us of what it will be like. After God rasied Him from the dead Jesus returned to His Father. But throughout His earthly life Jesus repeatedly promised a day when He would return again to the earth as its true King. A day will come when King Jesus will return and finally and fully the earth will be as it was always supposed to be. God living amongst His people in relationship with them.

‘Then’ writes John in our reading from Revelation today ‘I saw "a new heaven and a new earth," for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away… and I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Look! God's dwelling place is now among the people, and He will dwell with them. They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

Jesus returns as King. Hatred; selfishness; greed; cruelty banished. God’s will being done on earth as it is in heaven. His Kingdom finally come. The last and final Act in the story of God and His people.

But we don’t live in Act 5 – we’re only somewhere in Act 4. And we at St Peter’s Church in Oundle – we are living and playing our part somewhere in Act 4 of the story. We look forward to the day when Jesus returns as King – but how are we to live now? With the disciples we might ask, ‘what on earth do we now?’

Sometimes the church is guilty of suggesting that being a Christian is just about sitting around and waiting. We hear terrible news of world gone wrong but we’re alright because we know that one day Jesus is coming to put everything right. So like Noah in his ark we close our doors to the dreadful things happening outside and passively wait for Jesus to come as King.

Other Christians have gone to an opposite extreme. ‘Forget about Jesus coming again,’ they suggest, ‘it’s not going to happen. His Kingdom will only come in so far as the people on earth follow His teaching – our job is to persuade them.’ Jesus certain and frequent promises about His coming again are ignored. Building God’s Kingdom becomes all dependent on us. And as the goal seems as far off as ever we begin to doubt that God’s Kingdom will ever come. Nice idea – unrealistic.

Sitting around waiting – the wrong response.

Thinking that building God’s Kingdom is all dependent on us – the wrong response.

So what on earth do we do now? How are we – the people of Act 4 – to live?

Well first a little story. The story of  Robin Hood. The popular legend goes something like this. England has a good King - Richard, but whilst he is abroad his evil brother John takes the throne. England is not governed as it should be. There is injustice and corruption. The poor are exploited and the rich prosper. But here and there from place to place there are rebels – those like Robin Hood who stand up for justice against evil King John. They know that although John seems to have the power he is no real King. They have a real King across the water – and one day he is coming back and then there will be justice – then John will be cast off his throne and England will once more be governed by a good and upright King.

And because they know that their King is coming – Robin Hood and his outlaws start living now as they will when he comes. They reject the values King John’s kingdom – and adopt the values of the coming King. And so wherever they are they give people a glimpse of how things will be when Good King Richard returns to put things right.

Well – that’s the legend of Robin Hood. But we don’t have a legend – we have a certain hope. Yes this world isn’t governed as it should be. We know there is war, and injustice and poverty and an earth ravaged and polluted by human greed. Daily we meet those bruised and battered by a world where love is dying. And we know that this is not how it was supposed to be. This is Kingdom of this world where Satan believes that he is king and injustice and corruption reign. But we know of another King. We know that there is a King – crucified risen and ascended we know that there is a true King across the water – and that one day He is coming back. Then there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain – then will He wipe away every tear – then will there be a new heavens and a new earth.

And how do we live now? Not passively waiting for His return no. We live as outlaws actively rejecting the values of this world. Living by the values of our true King – the coming King. Deciding to live now as we will do then when He comes to reign. Making sure that by the way we live we do not increase – but rather work to lessen injustice in the world. Making sure that we do not damage but work to restore God’s beautiful world. Seeking to do His will on earth as it is in heaven  - so that where we are people might see a glimpse of how things were always supposed to be and how they will be again when Jesus comes to reign.

He told them, "This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in His name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.”

We who live in Act 4 of the drama have a task before us – our rôle to play – this afternoon – tomorrow morning this week. ‘Repentance for the forgiveness of sins is to be preached in His name to all nations.’ The work began in about AD33 in Jerusalem and has spread through all the earth to us here in Oundle in 2008. We too are called to be witnesses of these things and to pass on the message. But certainly not only by word. By action too. We are not only to proclaim with our lips that Jesus is the true King – but to proclaim by the way we live that He is our King. Choosing to live now as we will do then when He comes to reign.

For we know that we have a King across the water and He’s coming.

The streets have been packed. Jostling shouting pilgrims herding, dragging, carrying bleating lambs – pushing their way to the temple which yesterday was place of noise, commotion, blood and mess. The priests’ work seemingly never ending as they grasped the lambs they were handed – slit the throats and sprinkled the blood on the altar.

For this week the people celebrate the most important festival of the year. The feast of Passover when Jewish families up and down the land will sacrifice a lamb and sit down together for a meal and remember how centuries ago God rescued them from the Egyptians.

Remember how they had been slaves – forced to make bricks – and to gather their own raw materials – forced to make bricks without being given the straw to put in them. Backbreaking slave labour – and they had cried out to God in their misery. And He had come to the rescue. "I have seen the misery of my people” He said to Moses, “I have heard them crying … so I have come down to rescue them. With a mighty hand and an outstretched arm I will redeem you.”¹

And rescue them He had. And in these days of jostling crowds and bleating lambs and commotion and mess - they celebrate that rescue. Eating again the Passover and recalling how centuries ago on the night of their escape they had sacrificed a lamb and painted its blood on the wooden beams before eating the hurried meal; recalling how a plague had swept the land but passed over all the houses where lamb’s blood had been painted; recalling how Pharoah had finally let God’s people go free. God had seen their misery, heard their cries and come down with a mighty hand and outstretched arm to lead them into freedom.

So Jerusalem is packed. The streets are full of jostling shouting Passover pilgrims. At the centre the chaos and excitement at the temple – but off to one side beyond the city walls a cruel and appalling spectacle is taking place. On a barren God-forsaken hill - called ‘Place of the Skull’ because of the shape of its rocky outcrops - stands a crowd – a crowd watching the execution of three men. Roman soldiers are stripping the third man of His clothes and holding down His outstretched arms they hammer nails through His wrists and ankles before hoisting Him on a beam of wood to hang between the other two.

Hear the screams that split the air; hear the jeers and the laughter and the weeping. Watch as mocking soldiers offer this thirsting man soured wine; watch as they squabble for His clothes – the spoils of execution. See the passers-by hurl abuse.

Who is He who hangs there – a barbed thorny crown pushed hard down over His head? Above His bloodied face they have fixed a sign, ‘This is the King of the Jews’. But few in this baying crowd want Him for a King. “All these powers He was supposed to have where are they now?” They say. “He was supposed to have healed people but He can’t even heal Himself. Look at Him there bleeding. Some King. Some Messiah. Whoever heard of an executed saviour – a crucified Messiah? If God was with Him He’d come right down off that cross.”

"I have seen the misery of My people … I have heard them crying … so I have come down to rescue them. With mighty outstretched arms I will redeem you.”

"I have seen the misery of My people … I have heard them crying…’

I wonder where you are this Good Friday. What is your misery? What causes you to cry? I wonder where you are standing this Good Friday?

Maybe you’re with Peter. He’s not standing at the cross this Good Friday. “The cock crowed a second time and Peter remembered the words Jesus had spoken to him. And he broke down and wept.”

No - Peter is not standing at the cross this Good Friday. He is torn apart by guilt. He has denied and deserted his Lord. So he hides alone. Broken and weeping. Unable to put right what he has done.

Are you with Peter this Good Friday?

If you’re honest you feel you’ve failed God and you’re carrying a weight of guilt. Unable to face your Lord you hide your face and feel alone. You can’t simply by yourself put it right. You don’t have the resources.

The Israelites couldn’t make bricks without straw – and in their slavery and misery they cried out to God and with a mighty outstretched arm He came to rescue them and give them freedom.

I wonder where you are this Good Friday. What causes you to cry?

‘The people stood watching and the rulers even sneered at Him, “He saved others; let Him save Himself if He is the Messiah from God, the chosen one.” ’

Deep down of course they did long for God’s chosen one to come. Deep down they did want the Messiah to come – they did want a Saviour - but just not looking like this one. For hundreds of years they had been governed and ruled over by cruel foreign powers. For hundreds of years they had longed for God to break into their world and bring them justice and freedom. And now they are disillusioned. Hardened to the idea that He might ever turn up. So when a carpenter turns up towing a motley band of fishermen tax collectors and prostitutes in His wake claiming to be God’s Messiah – His chosen saviour – well the idea is simply insulting. Laughable. Especially now – as He hangs there with pierced hands, outstretched arms and barbed crown. Who ever heard of a crucified saviour? And realising the hopelessness of their ridiculous dreams they hurl the pent up disappointment and bitterness of years at this man on the cross. ‘They sneer at Him, “He saved others; let Him save Himself if He is the Messiah from God, the chosen one.”

I wonder where you are this Good Friday. What is your misery? What causes you to cry?

Do you - deep down - stand with the disillusioned mockers? Oh you put a bright face towards the world – but actually inside you’re pretty disappointed. Justice, fairness – well you haven’t seen much of those in recent years. In fact you’ve long been waiting for God to turn up; to break in bringing a bit of justice and freedom. But it’s been a long wait – and to be honest you’re actually quite hardened to the idea that He ever will. Disappointment; hopelessness; bitterness; scorn.

Do you stand with the disillusioned mockers this Good Friday?

You’re trapped and you just don’t have the resources within yourself to make it right.

You can’t make bricks without straw. The Israelites cried out to God in their misery and with a mighty outstretched arm He came to rescue them.

Where do you stand this Good Friday?

‘Women followed who mourned and wailed… They stood watching these things. [Near the cross stood His mother.]' ²

Are you with Mary today?

She stands at the cross and her heart is breaking with pain. She is losing the one she loves. Broken and weeping she can do nothing to make it right. She can only stand and watch as He is taken from her. And it is a task too hard to bear.

This Good Friday are you with Mary? You have known a loss in your life and sometimes your heart still breaks with pain. And nothing you can do can make it right again - except cry out to God in your sadness.

‘I have seen the misery of My people’ says God ‘I have heard them crying’.

Peter weeping bitterly for guilt.

The disillusioned mocking crowd who’ve given up on a saviour.

Mary heart-broken at the cross.

Where do you stand today? What makes you cry out to God?

Guilt? Someone or something you can’t forgive? Bitterness and disappointment? Something that has made you angry? Loneliness? Pain? Grief? Loss?

And what does this cross – this message of a crucified Saviour - have to say to us in our misery?

First: God hears.

‘I have seen the misery of My people.’ God says ‘I have heard them crying.’

God knows your sadness. He knows your misery and He has heard your crying. ‘God is close to those whose hearts are breaking,’ says Psalm 34, ‘He saves those who are crushed in spirit.’

Peter weeps bitterly at his own failure – but a day will come when a risen Jesus will walk with Him by the sea of Galilee offering forgiveness and a new start. God hears.

Today Mary’s heart breaks – but a day is coming when her grief will be transformed to joy. God hears.

The disillusioned crowd cannot see a saviour – but He is there to be found even in the midst of what seems to be only weakness and defeat. ‘Remember me when you come into your Kingdom’ says the man crucified beside Him. ‘Today you will be with Me in paradise’ says Jesus. God hears.

What is the message of the cross?

God hears your cries.

But He doesn’t just hear our cries. He does more. ‘I have heard their crying’ says God, ‘And I have come down to rescue them.’

In Jesus God comes to us. He enters into our experience. He doesn’t just hear our crying. He shares our crying. Pain. Loneliness. Betrayal. Disappointment. Abandonment. We worship a God who knows our very bleakest places – for He has been to them and far beyond. ‘Surely’ writes Isaiah, ‘He took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows.’

‘I have heard their crying’ says God, ‘And I have come down to rescue them.’

God hears.

In Jesus God comes to us.

And on the cross He rescues us.

‘He was pierced for our transgressions’ says Isaiah, ‘crushed for our iniquities; and the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed.’

It’s alright to cry out to God. He’s close to those who cry out. To stand at the cross and cry out – to cry out feelings of guilt and failure; of disillusion and disappointment; anger; grief; loss.

The cross is a good place to bring those feelings and cry them out to God. For on the cross there are mighty outstretched arms that are ready to receive our tears and rage and sadness and failure.

Sorrow and tears for wrongdoing. Take them to the cross. God can use them to bring transformation. ‘He was pierced for our transgressions.’

Tears of rage and disappointment. Take them to the cross. God can use them to bring new hope. ‘The punishment that brought us peace was on Him.’

Tears of grief and sadness. Take them to the cross. God can use them to bring new life. ‘By His wounds’ says Isaiah ‘we are healed.’

God hears us; He comes to us and on the cross He rescues us

‘I have seen the misery of my people’ says God ‘I have heard them crying … and I have come to rescue them. With pierced hands and mighty outstretched arms I will redeem you’

 ***

1 Exodus 3:7; 6:6; Deuteronomy 5:15

2 John 19:25