Holy Week
A short series of reflections from Matthew’s gospel:
Wednesday 1st April – Matthew 26:36-46 ‘Not as I will’
The will – it’s a strange and slightly mysterious thing, isn’t it? We first start to see it when a child is just a few months old, newly weaned – turning their nose up at one mouthful of food only to embrace another.
Wills famously start to assert themselves strongly as toddlers. The battles all of us parents will remember! Usually over little things, but nonetheless important, as ultimately it’s about who’s in charge. And this sense of the will lives on in those who are described as ‘strong-willed’, which is often a euphemism for people who like to get their own way!
The will is a statement not just of authority but of intent. When couples get married they don’t say ‘I do’ (sorry to disappoint you), but ‘I will’. Even our last wishes are declared by – you guessed it – a will.
Wills matter. The great spiritual writer Watchman Nee defined the soul as the combination of the mind, the emotions and the will. It differs from the other two precisely because it defines where (and to whom) our gaze is directed. If the mind gives us the what and why, and the emotions the how, the will focuses us on the where and to whom. In matters of life and faith, whose will prevails?
All of which leads perfectly onto the heart of this passage today. Here we see two battles of the will, both within a person or people. For the disciples, the tussle is relatively straightforward: their spiritual desire to support their friend Jesus versus their physical desire to sleep on a warm, dark evening after a large meal.
For Jesus, the battle is much more intense, life (and death) defining even. Jesus’ destiny hangs in the balance: he knows what lies ahead, and he faces the ultimate test of the will: his own, human will to avoid it, clashing with what he knows his Father’s will to be.
The struggle is immense: he describes himself to his friends as ‘overwhelmed with sorrow’; in Luke’s account, his anguish is so intense it bursts blood vessels near the skin surface, so he literally sweats blood. Whose will will prevail?
As we observed earlier, it all comes down to authority and intent. Ultimately Jesus was completely obedient to one authority, and one alone – his Father’s. And this determined his intention. After hours of wrestling, he comes to the earth-shattering, earth-changing decision: ‘Yet not as I will, but as you will.’ Nine words which change the universe, the course of history, the future of humanity.
The contrast with the disciples is so stark, it’s almost tragically funny. Jesus wrestles for his life while they wrestle with their eyelids. How like us! How wonderful, then, to know that our future rests in Jesus’ perfect obedience rather than ours.
And may that hope of a secure future, thanks to Jesus’ costly obedience, also give us inspiration and courage to surrender to God’s will in the little – and not-so-little – callings of our lives.
Courageous God, I am in awe of your obedience. Thank you, thank you that you said ‘Not as I will.’ Help me to will as you will, because I know that you are good. Amen.
Tuesday 31st March – Matthew 26:17-35 ‘All fall away’
The journey of Jesus through Holy Week is, among many things, a journey from crowds to loneliness. The great throng of Palm Sunday becomes the large crowd in the temple; then the smaller gathering at Bethany, moving on to the Last Supper with his disciples; then just Peter, James and John in Gethsemane, until finally Jesus is arrested and is completely alone. Listeners left, followers gone, friends fled.
The narrative becomes more intense, claustrophobic. Today Jesus prepares to ‘celebrate’ the Passover (v18), then at the celebration itself talks of betrayal (v21) and his own shed blood (v28). He finishes the meal with an evening walk where he finally comes clean: ‘this very night you will all fall away on account of me.’ (v31)
It is a stark and sobering admission, and not surprisingly his friends, buoyed not just by wine and conversation, but an evening reflecting on God’s sovereign activity in history, don’t agree. A tight-knit huddle, they’ve weathered all storms – literal and spiritual – for three years. They’re just not the ‘falling away’ types – especially not gung-ho, have-a-go Peter. ‘Even if all fall away, I never will.’
We all know what happens next, and we’ll reflect some more on it over the coming days. But I’m always struck by the disconnect between words and deeds. Between brave declarations, and craven response. Between intention and action. ‘The Spirit is willing’ – it usually is – ‘but the flesh is weak.’
And as we gaze back at these iconic scenes with 2,000 years’ perspective – two millennia of knowledge and experience – it strikes me that the only honest response is simply this: there but for the grace of God go I. Go any of us. The disciples are just like us: true of heart and easily scattered. How many times has the rooster crowed for each of us?
And yet… and yet…. Jesus is still Jesus. Still full of compassion and mercy, still slow to anger and of great goodness. Still able to welcome us back with our blushing, tear-stained cheeks. And in this famous meal he gives us, this simple but glorious act of remembrance, we are able each time to acknowledge our weakness, and praise his strength; to lament our faithlessness and rejoice in his faithfulness; to receive mercy and forgiveness again. Every time we eat this bread and drink this cup, we proclaim the Lord’s saving death until he comes.
Even as they gather to celebrate the Passover, Jesus knows they will all desert him within hours – and yet he gives them this wonderful sign of his love anyway. That is grace – and it is grace we remember today. As the old hymn puts it so well: ‘When Satan tempts me to despair, and tells me of the guilt within: upwards I look and see him there, who made an end of all my sin.’ Amen, thank you Jesus.
Loving Lord, there but for your grace I would have gone so many times. Thank you for your mercy and love. Make my weak knees strong, and stand by my side always. Amen.
Monday 30th March – Matthew 26:1-16 ‘Extravagant love’
In our church, we’re blessed to be able to worship in a beautiful, inspiring building. Despite being made with wooden scaffolds, rudimentary tools and makeshift mortar, it has stood for hundreds of years, and is likely to for hundreds more. Most of us sucked in our breath and felt a sense of thrill when we first stepped inside it. Many of us do even now. Imagine what it must have been like for the mediaeval peasant folk who lived around it in timber dwellings? Imagine the awe, the sense of glory and mystery – all pointing to the great God in whose name it was built.
The church is really the people, of course it is – and we must beware idolatry of bricks and mortar. But all the same, a glorious building not only inspires worship, but represents an act of worship in itself. It’s not often that we think of the cost of building it. How on earth does a poor agrarian subsistence economy finance such luxury? What did it cost each peasant family to pay their taxes over decades to see it built? Yes, it certainly provided much needed employment and a focus for the identity of the village – but I wonder how many times a family went hungry or made some other sacrifice to see it built? What poverty might have been alleviated if the money hadn’t been spent on a building at least ten times larger than anything around it, whose sole purpose was for worship?
When we start to ask these questions, we get to the heart of today’s famous but unsettling story. We love the image of the woman anointing Jesus’ head with this very expensive perfume, but many of us no doubt share the disciples’ sentiments. Jesus had just challenged the financial corruption of the temple officials, and yet here he was a few days later, apparently condoning an act of wasteful, reckless extravagance. Surely there are better ways to spend money wisely?
But Jesus is having none of it. Yes, we should always care for those who need it, as Jesus advises – but he also reminds us that the first and primary object of our attention is Jesus himself. Jesus’ own love for us is extravagant, reckless even – the end of this week proves it, beyond a shadow of a doubt – and so, too, he commends extravagant love returned. This woman’s costly worship, done for no other reason than to demonstrate her adoration of her Lord, is ‘a beautiful thing’.
The woman could never have known that Jesus’ prediction would come true: ‘wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.’ Just as the poor mediaeval families who made sacrifices for decades to pay for and build our church building could never have known that 700 or 800 years later, people would still be gasping as they enter, people would still be offering their worship to God with hearts and hands raised in adoration – that their offering of extravagant love would remain powerful, inspiring, enduring. It is a beautiful thing.
As Holy Week begins, take time to reflect on the reckless, extravagant love of God for you – yes, you! The love that led to extraordinary sacrifice. Let’s acknowledge that too often we become people who know ‘the price of everything and the value of nothing.’ Let’s recommit ourselves to extravagant worship, reflecting the wild, reckless love of our Creator. It is a beautiful thing.
Loving Jesus, thank you for your extravagant love for me. My love for you so often has limits. Help me to love you as you love me. Open my eyes to see what the woman at Bethany saw. Thank you. Amen.
Palm Sunday
Saturday 28th March – Matthew 21:1-11 ‘Can you see him?’
Palm Sunday is tomorrow. We conclude our week with a reflection on that theme:
There are lots of ways to describe Lent – but an important one is ‘journey’. It is a notable period of time – six and a half weeks – and each year we can get a real sense of that journey, starting on Ash Wednesday, passing Mothering Sunday, Palm Sunday, leading to the final days in Jerusalem.
During Lent, we often connect with the journey of Jesus into the desert: forty days alone with God. And that’s right, but we often miss another journey: that of Jesus to Jerusalem. It’s a significant distance: as the crow flies, it’s 80 miles from Capernaum to Jerusalem, but, avoiding Samaria (as everyone living in Capernaum at that time would normally do), it’s over 100. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus begins in ch9 and doesn’t arrive till ch19 – Luke calls it Jesus’ “Exodus” (a word laden with meaning).
And tomorrow on Palm Sunday we arrive in Jerusalem with Jesus. Over the days and weeks of the journey a large crowd has gathered, and they’re all waiting to see what Jesus is going to do next. There’s a sense of awe, of growing excitement…. Perhaps we can imagine ourselves being caught up with it all, the nervous tension, the sense of not knowing. Perhaps we can feel the disappointment of the crowds when Jesus doesn’t begin a political revolution, the sadness at his betrayal and abandonment.
Palm Sunday always brings with it such mixed emotions. We know what went before, but also what lies ahead.
This is not just a historical event 2,000 years ago. As we celebrate Palm Sunday every year, Jesus comes, in a real sense, to a city near us. And the challenge is the same: can you see him?
This was the question I asked the schoolchildren at some of my Easter assemblies this year: what do you see? There’s a difference between looking and seeing – we can look, but not see…
…not least because the cultural ‘noise’ grows greater every year; we cram our modern lives with so much stuff, particularly at Easter. Easter is get-aways and get-togethers, sales and spring cleans, holiday clubs and gardens dug. And, in the midst of it all, this gentle chap rides into town on one of the slowest, quietest modes of transport – a donkey. We still have to crane our necks to see him, with all the other stuff in the way. He doesn’t use a megaphone or brandish a sword to compel our attention. He just arrives.
We know the end of the story – but sometimes that’s not such a good thing. We can make it safe, predictable. After all, how much can a guy on a donkey do…?
As we look ahead to the coming week, let’s keep this question in mind, and may the Lord bless us once more as we earnestly look for the answer: Jesus comes to your city, your town, your village – can you see him?
The Gospel of John
Friday 27th March – John 17:24-26 ‘To be with me’
To be with Jesus. That’s the whole ball game, isn’t it? It’s what God made us for, it’s what was disrupted by the Fall (‘where are you?’), it’s what the prophets looked forward to (‘I myself will tend my sheep’), it’s what Jesus put at the heart of his relationship with his early followers: ‘that they might be with him’ (Mark 3:14).
And it’s where Jesus ends his remarkable prayer today: (v24) ‘Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am.’
To be with Jesus. The means and the goal of the Christian life.
It’s a golden thread which runs throughout these amazing chapters (13-17) we’ve spent the last few weeks looking at. Jesus is leaving this world soon, and his ultimate plan is that we would be united with him eternally. That will finally be in heaven; until then, he sends his Spirit, his abiding presence, ‘that I myself may be in them’ (v26). This Spirit will empower us to live in the continual flow of the divine love which permeates the Trinity; in other words, ‘that the love you have for me may be in them’ (also v26). To be filled with the Spirit of Jesus is to be filled with his selfless, life-giving love: hence, at the end of his prayer, Jesus treats these two things as interchangeable.
To be with Jesus also leads to one other thing, another of the golden threads that run through this text: we will see his glory. In these last chapters, Jesus’ glory is supremely manifested through the cross. Here, however, Jesus is looking forward to his heavenly glory, ‘the glory you have given me before the creation of the world’ (v24). The first leads to the second: the cross to the crown.
Our destiny is laid out here in the simplest, but also the most beautiful, terms: to be with Jesus, and to see his glory. It’s a destiny we know in part, day by day, here in this world; it’s one we will know in full in the world to come.
As we draw this latest series in these wonderful chapters of John’s gospel to a close, let’s give thanks for the certainty of our future hope. And let’s also pray that this day, this week, this season, we would be with Jesus, and see his glory, maybe even in unexpected ways. Amen.
Thursday 26th March – John 17:20-23 ‘That the world may believe’
Many years ago I lived in a small town, which was blessed with numerous churches. In particular, there were three of the same denomination along the main street: one as you entered the town, one in the middle and one half a mile further along at the far end. It looked like effective mission had taken place – I later learned that the original one had divided over a theological issue and half of the congregation had moved up the road. Some years later, it happened again. A friend of mine who is a minister in that denomination joked with me recently: ‘We don’t plant churches; we just split them!’
Thankfully we worship a God who is able to redeem all things, even our flaws and foibles. Yet, it is a sad reflection of our capacity as humans to divide, to keep re-enacting the ‘curse of Babel’ in generation after generation. This is not God’s plan! In fact, quite the reverse: at the heart of the gospel is the recreation of a new, united humanity – ‘one, as God is one’ (v22). God is not just saving individuals, but a global community of people.
Yesterday we noted this striking prayer of Jesus that we would be protected, for unity; division is a sign of spiritual weakness, of not being fully whole in Christ. Today, Jesus takes that line of thinking further – unity is fundamental to our credibility in our mission to the world: (v21) ‘that the world may believe that you have sent me.’
This prayer is so important, Jesus actually prays it twice: (v23) ‘that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.’
Our unity as believers is not a nice add-on, or a sentimental hippy dream, it lies at the core of the gospel, and of our mission. We are to be one, as God is one – and as we reflect that intrinsic oneness, so people can grasp a vision of something better for this world: an interdependent community of truly selfless love and service, not riven by petty factions and rivalries, or by ‘us and them’ language and lifestyle. We are the body of Christ!
I thank God that the churches in our team try to reflect this unity, with many cultures and every generation represented. We have also seen that many people have joined us precisely because of this loving diversity. In other words, it really works! Just as Jesus prayed.
Today, let’s give thanks for all church communities who practise this kind of unity. Let’s also keep praying for deeper unity, that the more of the world might know that our heavenly Father sent Jesus, and loves them, even as he loves Jesus. Amen.
Wednesday 25th March – John 17:11-19 ‘Not of the world’
In the world, but not of it. That brief summary – taken directly from vvv15-16 in today’s passage – is a great way to understand our lives as followers of Jesus. We do not withdraw from society – we live out our faith where we are, among the people God has brought us alongside. At the same time, we have a dual citizenship: we are not just citizens of this world, we are also citizens of heaven – we serve a different Lord, a higher calling. We are no longer of this world.
It’s a hard balance to strike. Too much ‘in’, and our lives may look indistinguishable from everyone else’s; not enough ‘in’, and we become a holy huddle, insulating ourselves from the full impact we might have as Jesus’ followers, in a world which desperately needs his good news.
This dual citizenship is a spiritual fact (see, for example Ephesians 2:6-7), but also a challenge; it’s one reason why not everyone likes Christians (v14). Our lives attract many, and repel others. So, Jesus prays for his followers in this glorious text that we might be protected, by the power of God’s mighty name (v11). It’s a prayer focused specifically on his friends, but equally applicable to us as well.
And the prayer for protection has two dimensions: first for protection from the evil one (v15). It’s important to notice that Jesus doesn’t pray that we are taken out of the world – we continue to live out our real faith in our real, everyday life; rather, in this very life, he prays that we might be protected from spiritual attack. It’s a theme he’s addressed before, famously in the last line of the Lord’s Prayer: ‘deliver us from the evil one.’ It’s something many of us pray every day, and here Jesus testifies to its importance. The spiritual battle is real, and Jesus has won the war – but there are still skirmishes. Hence we pray for protection, in the name of Jesus.
It’s not just protection from, though – it’s also protection for: for unity: (v11) ‘protect them by the power of your name… that they may be one as we are one.’ We’ll return to this theme in more detail tomorrow, but it’s worth observing that, by praying in these terms, Jesus himself is testifying that the unity of the church is one of the great spiritual battlegrounds of history. Complete unity lies at the heart of the Godhead (’as we are one’), so it must be at the heart of our calling as Jesus’ body, the Church, since we reflect the image of God. Our chronic dividedness is not just a practical obstacle but a sign of spiritual defeat – food for thought!
Jesus closes this part of the prayer with a lovely intercession: (v17) ‘Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth.’ Sanctification – becoming holy – is a key element in our protection. And God’s word is intrinsic to that process of becoming holy. As we engage with these reflections day-by-day, it’s heartening to observe that immersing ourselves in God’s powerful word is helping us to become holy i.e. clean, set apart. May the Lord work his powerful word in us today. And may our precious Lord Jesus protect us by the power of his name – from evil, and for unity. Amen.
Tuesday 24th March – Psalm 97 ‘Good foundations’
Our brief pause from John continues with a second reflection from the Psalms:
Some years ago we tried to buy a house in Manchester. My sister lives there and the idea was that once we’d bought it, she would have the security of long-term tenancy and (reasonably) nice landlords. However, when we had the survey done we discovered huge problems with subsidence. It was a Victorian end-of-terrace at the bottom of the slope and over the last century had been very gradually sinking. We sadly had to withdraw. Thankfully my sister is well housed elsewhere!
It was a harsh lesson in the importance of good foundations. Every good edifice rests on them. And in today’s psalm, we learn that God’s throne has vital foundations, too: they are ‘righteousness and justice’ (v2).
It’s easy to see these words as being ‘cold’ or abstract, but that would fall short of their original meaning. Biblical scholars have emphasised the relational meaning of both of these words. Here’s how one described each: ‘righteous action is action which conforms to the requirements of the relationship and in a more general sense promotes the peace and wellbeing of the community’; ‘justice [is] the strongly ethical notion of action which is to be legally upheld because it is productive of communal wellbeing.’
That might sound like a mouthful, but it’s a valuable insight because it earths these foundational words in God’s relationship with us. When God is righteous, he is righteous for the good of his creation – including us; when God is just, he is just towards us.
Although we might instinctively have preferred something a bit cuddlier like ‘love and peace’ as the foundation of God’s throne, in fact what we get is something even better. God’s righteousness assures us that his love is perfectly directed. God’s justice is what secures our peace. As the old liberation slogan reminds us: ‘No peace without justice.’ Wonderfully, in knowing God we get both.
So, we can be thankful for these words! God’s throne is founded on two pillars which ultimately secure our wellbeing, too – righteousness and justice. The heavens proclaim it (v6); and we are called to model it too (vv10-12). We are called to live just and righteous lives because we are made in God’s image and therefore reflect our Maker’s intentions.
In our shifting world, God’s throne is secure. And we too can rest secure in these same unchanging qualities. May those qualities shine on us today (v11), producing joy and praise in our hearts and on our lips.
Just and righteous Lord, thank you that your foundations are secure. Help us to rest firm on those same foundations. Guard our lives today, and deliver us from evil. Shine on us, we pray, and in all the dark places of our community. Amen.
Monday 23rd March – Psalm 96 ‘A new song’
To begin our week, a reflection from the Psalms:
Some years ago we took out a subscription to Amazon Prime’s ‘Music Unlimited’. Generally our family are always late to any technological party – I still mourn the demise of beacons on hillsides as the primary means of communicating news. Admittedly, many of my peers had already been users of a music subscription channel for 5 or 10 years. But by our standards, this was a revolution. Suddenly almost every song that had ever been published – 50 million or so pieces of music – was available for us to listen to: anytime, anywhere.
Today’s psalm begins by inviting us to ‘Sing to the Lord a new song.’ In today’s world, this could be considered straightforward when you’ve got 50 million songs to choose from – but how do we lift our hearts in faith to sing a new song every day? Surely words are limited? Feelings are finite? What does a ‘new song’ really mean?
Over the years, I’ve been fortunate to minister to some wonderful old saints – people who inspired me far more than I ever did them. And what’s noticeable about such amazing people is that, no matter their age, their faith is young – it is childlike, enthusiastic. They wake up with God every morning as if they found faith just yesterday, and it still causes them wonder. They speak of God with the joy of the newly-in-love. They remember answers to prayer with excitement and thanksgiving, as if this was something that had just started to happen to them.
I think this is what the psalmist means by a new song. God does not change. His character is steadfast, constant – always loving, faithful and good. He remains the same, yesterday, today and forever. But whilst this is true, one of the keys to faith is that we receive these truths as ‘new every morning’. They remain fresh, exciting, awe-inspiring. They put praise on our lips, peace in our hearts and joy in our spirits. They cause us to ‘proclaim his salvation day-after-day’ (v2), and ‘declare his glory among the nations’ (v3).
It’s easy to get tired and stale – in faith as in life. Which is why the infectious joy of the psalmist is so valuable. I need a bit of whatever he or she is having! Maybe you do too.
So today, can I encourage you to pray this psalm, and offer your praises to God. And may God renew our hearts as we do, so that we would, this day and every day, sing a new song to the Lord.
Saturday 21st March – Ephesians 1:4 ‘Chosen – for what?’
In 2017, the then little-known producer Dallas Jenkins released a film called ‘The Resurrection of Gavin Stone.’ It got mediocre reviews and largely flopped. Working out what to do next, Dallas started binge-watching other dramas and gradually realised there was something that had never been done before: no-one had ever filmed a multi-season series of Jesus’ life. There were many big-budget famous films, and also short series for TV – but no-one had ever attempted something more ambitious. It was indeed a Big Idea – the problem was, there was no money to do it. So, he started crowdfunding; the money started coming in, and, using a cast of relatively unknown actors, he started filming a pilot.
He called the show ‘The Chosen’, and some of you will know what happened next. The programme has been a huge hit – now running to multiple series, it has its own app but is also available on Prime and Netflix, and has been watched by more than 100 million people. The actor who plays Jesus has also met the Pope twice, to talk about the show!
It’s a remarkable cultural phenomenon, and has introduced Jesus to millions of people in a new way. I must confess it’s still on my list of things to watch, but I’ve heard many good reviews – even from those who wouldn’t profess to believe its message. But why ‘The Chosen’? The short answer is that it refers initially to Jesus’ choosing of his twelve apostles. But the more general sense is this idea that all followers of Jesus are chosen by God.
The idea that we are chosen is one of the more controversial in Christian thought. And yet, it occurs numerous times in the New Testament, so we cannot dismiss it. We do, however, have to face the awkward question: does that mean that others are not chosen, and therefore cannot be saved?
At one level, we’ll never know this side of heaven. The best answer, though, is this: no-one living can say ‘I have not been chosen.’ However, those who are followers of Jesus can declare with joy: ‘The Lord has chosen me!’
This is the first of the great spiritual blessings Paul refers to in v3 (see yesterday’s reflection). And it naturally comes first because of the timeline: when did God choose us? When we were born? When we first started exploring faith? No – before the world began. Wow! This is not a roll-the-dice, toss-a-coin kind of choice; this is a fixed and firm decision. God chose you – a long, long time ago.
But not just so you could feel special – although we all should! There’s a bigger, redemptive plan. We are chosen ‘to be holy and blameless in his sight’ – in other words, to lead the kind of life God meant for humanity to live, in harmony with their Creator and with transparent integrity. God’s choice is not designed to spoil us, but to transform us. We are the Chosen – for a bigger role than even a global TV series; we are chosen to become a new humanity, filled with the fulness of God.
Today, take a moment to give thanks that God has chosen you. And pray that, by his wonderful grace, you can live that abundant, holy life he has chosen you for.
Friday 20th March – Ephesians 1:3 ‘Every spiritual blessing’
Having quoted this verse yesterday, we conclude our week with two further reflections from Ephesians 1:3-4:
‘It’s the hope that kills you.’ You’ll hear this phrase often on the lips of a sports fan. The great joy – and curse – of following a team is that success is only ever temporary. It makes the wins all the sweeter, knowing that defeat is inevitable at some point – probably next week!
That sense of impending doom, a glass half empty, the sense that things will always go wrong in the end, is often thought to be a ‘mature’ way of looking at the world. What we experience in the fantasy world of sport becomes our mantra in life, too. If something seems too good to be true – well, it probably is. Life will come back to bite to you in the end.
St Paul would be entitled to feel like that more than most people. Walking away from a privileged upbringing and rapid career rise through the religious ranks in adult life, he’d spent the last 25 years or so being rejected by his own people, thrown out of towns and cities, beaten up, stoned, occasionally betrayed by friends, and in and out of numerous prisons. He even writes this current letter under permanent house arrest.
And yet, what is his perspective on life? Cynical? World weary? Tired of hope? ‘Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ.’ Every spiritual blessing. Not just a few, or even plenty – but all we need. Whatever life throws at him, Paul’s perspective is that there are deeper things, hidden realities, firm foundations, eternal truths which outlast anything we face here on this earth. In Christ, we can overcome, because these spiritual realities, these blessings, are ours.
There’s a lot to be fearful or depressed about in the world at present. And those things aren’t going away anytime soon. But, when I read this wonderful verse, I find myself thinking: ‘I want a bit of what he has.’ In fact, I want a lot of it. A hope which runs deeper, holds faster than anything else.
Over the next few days, we’ll look in detail at the blessings Paul names – and there are plenty! But today, let’s receive this verse as an invitation: to believe that, whatever our daily challenges, or the bigger problems in our world, we really do have every spiritual blessing in Christ. May that word be written on our hearts. And, like Paul, may it cause us to praise our great God today. Amen.
Thursday 19th March – John 17:6-10 ‘Yours’
Letter writing is increasingly a lost art. In our modern world of phones and computers, we use texts and emails, or don’t use words at all, substituting them for pictures and emojis. Those of us old enough to remember the days when the letter formed a major part of our communication would have learned a set of protocols, particularly with regard to how we ended a letter. ‘Yours sincerely’ if the person was named, ‘yours faithfully’ if the addressee was unnamed (‘Dear Sir/Madam’). These in themselves are effectively shorthand: go back further in time, and the sign-off was often far more florid. If you enjoy a good Victorian novel, you’ll often find sign-offs like: ‘Believe me, sir, that I remain humbly and affectionately yours…’ – or somesuch!
In our consumer world, where possession is considered an absolute, we are uncomfortable with images of ownership. What does it mean when we tell someone we are ‘theirs’ – even in a letter? It is good to remind ourselves that scripture takes a far more positive view. As we see in today’s passage, the idea of mutual dependence is rooted in the very personhood of God himself. The Father and the Son belong to each other, as Jesus prays: (v10) ‘All I have is yours, and all you have is mine.’ You could say that every communication between them is ‘yours faithfully’.
One of the great blessings of following Jesus is that we, too, are drawn into this community of mutual dependence, invited to be ‘faithfully yours’. This is an ongoing privilege: Jesus prays for his friends, noting to his Father that ‘they were yours’ (v6), and also that ‘they are yours’ (v9). We can abide continually and eternally in this divine community of love; an abiding which brings glory to Jesus (v10).
What is our response to this extraordinary invitation? To believe in Jesus and his mission (v8) and to obey the word of God (v6). Believe and obey – not out of coercion or fear, but in hope and love.
And what Jesus declares is what can declare also. All we have is God’s; and amazingly, all God has is ours: ‘praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ.’ (Ephesians 1:3)
May the Lord grant us all grace to be ‘faithfully and sincerely his’ today – believing, obeying and abiding. And may that divine life flow out through us and into the lives of those we love and those we meet, that we may be ‘faithfully theirs’ too, for Jesus’ glory. Amen.
Wednesday 18th March – John 17:1-5 ‘Glorify your Son’
To read John 17 is to stand on holy ground. All scripture is God-breathed, of course, but when we read this chapter, we get a glimpse into the heavenly throne room, as the divine Son shares intimately with the heavenly Father. Imagine being John, listening to Jesus offering this remarkable prayer. No wonders he remembers it word-for-word decades later. It’s not a prayer any of us would be likely to forget.
After the Lord’s Prayer, this is probably the second most well-known prayer in the bible – and if the Lord’s Prayer was powerfully simple and direct, what is known as Jesus’ ‘High Priestly Prayer’ is gloriously deep and profound.
Gloriously being the operative word. The prayer begins with no less than five references to ‘glorify’ or ‘glory’. The word ‘glory’ in the bible literally means ‘weight’. It is the manifest, tangible presence of God. When this presence made itself known in the Old Testament, it was experienced as a literal weight: people fell on their faces in awe and wonder (see, for example, Leviticus 9:23-24).
As time went on, this sense of weight attached to ‘glory’ broadened into a more general sense of honour that is due to the Lord when his manifest presence is made known. This is how we use the word today – albeit not necessarily in reference to God – and this is how Jesus uses it here. As he faces the cross, the literal presence of God will be made manifest in the most extraordinary and powerful way. The world will see it as disgrace; but the Father and the Son see it as honour, as glory: (v1) ‘Father the hour has come. Glorify your Son, that your Son may glorify you.’
Jesus has all the authority in the universe (v2). The incredible thing, as we observed before, is that this authority is demonstrated through the cross – what appears to be a terrible defeat is in fact the greatest victory. A victory that brings life to all who will receive it (v3).
In the coming days, we’ll see how Jesus prays for his friends, for the church and for the world. But today, he begins with his Father. He is about to complete the work the Father gave to him (v4); now he looks forward to once again enjoying the glory of heaven in the presence of his Father (v5). It’s not long now, and the thought of it must have sustained him through the trials to come.
Jesus is glorious. A glory revealed through the incarnation, the miracles, the teaching, the cross, the resurrection and the ascension. Those that lived with him got regular glimpses of that glory. By the Spirit, may the Lord grant us grace, too, to see just how glorious he is. And may that glory fill our hearts and our lives today.
Tuesday 17th March – John 16:25-33 ‘A time is coming’
And so this special conversation between Jesus and his disciples comes full circle. We began at the start of chapter 13, as the Passover Meal commenced: ‘Jesus knew that the hour had come…’ It is fitting that he concludes this conversation by repeating this phrase: ‘The hour is coming…’ (v25, v32) It’s often translated time, but the word ‘ora’ is the same in both passages.
But what time? What ora?
In a continuation of what Jesus said in yesterday’s text, it is a time first of trouble, then of joy. Jesus refers to the trouble last: (v32) ‘A time is coming and in fact has come when you will be scattered, each to your own home. You will leave me all alone.’ Jesus knows that the trials he is shortly to face will terrify the disciples, who will flee.
Yet this is not the end of the story. He will prevail, and once he has risen and sees them again, he will be able to teach them more about the God they will dedicate their lives to serve: (v25-26) ‘A time is coming when I will no longer use this kind of language but will tell you plainly about my Father. In that day you will ask in my name.’ This surely refers to their time together after Jesus’ resurrection, when, as Luke says, ‘he appeared to them over a period of forty days and spoke about the kingdom of God.’ (Acts 1:3)
Jesus is particularly keen to emphasise that, once he has risen, we will be able to seek the Lord directly in prayer, and not rely on Jesus to do it for us. Of course, Jesus is always praying for us – but the amazing promise here is that we are not somehow dependent on Jesus persuading his Father on our behalf – God the Father will be listening to us personally, a divine Parent who ‘loves you because you have loved me’ (v27).
There is one last great promise in this text, which concludes one of the greatest conversations ever to have taken place in human history: (v33) ‘I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.’
Life is challenging. But Jesus has overcome! So we take heart, and can know peace.
What a summary of our journey of faith. And a good basis for our prayers today, or any day, which we can pray direct to our heavenly Father, just as Jesus encouraged. May the Lord grant us all grace to turn our troubles to him, to trust in his victory, and to find hope and peace in the loving arms of our Lord. Amen.
Monday 16th March – John 16:16-24 ‘Your grief will turn to joy’
Lent is traditionally a season of self-denial. Many millions of Christians every year give things up, or make extra sacrifices. Why? Sadly, there is much misunderstanding of Lent’s true purpose. It’s not to earn brownie points with God – as if that would ever work! It is certainly to identify with Christ, in some very small way, on his journey to the cross. However, the other main reason is to increase our gratitude and joy. As we willingly forego things we might have come to see as ‘rights’, we remember again that most of them are privileges, blessings. We choose the path of ‘death’ in order to experience the joy of ‘resurrection.’ Our grief turns to joy.
Something similar is about to be experienced by the disciples in today’s passage. Jesus has already told them he is going away, but only temporarily (13:33, 14:18-19, 14:28), and he repeats this promise at the start of our text: (v16) ‘In a little while you will see me no longer, and then after a little while you will see me.’ He knows that this will cause them pain: (v20) ‘You will weep and mourn while the world rejoices.’
Their pain is partly born of confusion. We know the end of the story: after the cross comes the empty tomb. The disciples did not: (v18) ‘They kept asking, “What does he mean by ‘a little while’? We don’t understand what he is saying.”’ Jesus has been their whole world for three years; it is impossible to imagine life without him.
This time, then, Jesus is much clearer about the certainty of their reunion: (v22) ‘Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again…’ Not only that, he is more definite about the effect of this reunion: ‘…and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.’
For the disciples, the primary outcome of the resurrection is joy. Sheer joy. Joy which no-one can take away, and which is also complete (v24). It is good for us to be reminded of that, too. The resurrection produces many things: the ultimate proof of Jesus’ divinity; the defeat of death; the Great Commission, followed by the ascension of Jesus to heaven; as well as the subsequent power of Pentecost and the pouring out of the Spirit. These all require Jesus’ resurrection to be effected, and praise God that they are! But let’s not forget the most simple outcome of all: joy. After the cross, the empty tomb. After death, resurrection. After grief, joy.
‘Your grief will turn to joy.’ Whatever season we are in at the moment, including whatever causes us to grieve, let’s receive again today the gift of resurrection joy. Jesus has defeated death and is with us always. ‘Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.’ Amen.
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