My mind went back to a time when I was attacked in my car during a trip to Manchester. In relating this to the Twin towers tragedy I know that my example of hurt, in terms of scale, does not compare with the events on that fateful day, but the principle of dealing with hidden inclinations within us is in keeping with the teaching of Jesus.
I had one of my young daughters in the back of the car and a gang of, what are often wrongly called, footballer supporters ran at the car. They were drunk and angry and violent. I had stopped at a junction and could move forward nor back. They attempted to turn the car over, rocking it violently from side to side. One of them, the biggest of the bunch, opened my door and started to kick and punch me.
My daughter was screaming in the rear of the car and I knew that I had to make a decision. I jumped out of the car with the intention of hitting the biggest one as hard as I could. I thought, just maybe if I frighten him the others might stop. This was of course highly unlikely. I threw a couple of emergency prayers up to heaven. I got out of the car and started to fight. Just as I did, amazingly enough, a vehicle full of bus conductors arrived and came to our rescue. They had to physically stop me hitting my assailant and they chased a number of others away. We were safe.
When I arrived at work on the following Monday I told my work colleagues what had happened. They were unanimous in their view that I had done the right thing in defending my daughter and myself. My friends at church agreed and so it seemed that all was well. I knew deep down, however, that I had crossed an almost invisible line within my heart. My initial response was based on fear and protection but I know that I ended up just wanting to hurt this enemy. I wanted to make him suffer. I am not a fighter and I love peace. I work wherever I can in the name of peace, but peace was not what I wanted at that split second. I wanted revenge.
To everybody else I had done the right thing but I knew inside that I had to repent of wanting to hurt another human being; effectively continuing the cycle of violence. It seems to me that we must not cross the line that we all have inside between a meaningful response and a search for revenge.
Repentance, sacrifice and change are part of our pilgrimage in following Christ as we die to ourselves and live to the fruit that God will produce in us.
Many of these sacrifices are unseen to most of those around us, and that is the way it should be. It is the sum total of our pilgrimage experiences that the world will see not the outward glare of self-important religious gestures. They will notice a radiance and peace that reflects Christ, often in a quiet and unassuming way so that when we do speak they are might be more willing to listen.
We would not normally associate glorification with death and sacrifice yet here marks an important difference between the ways of God and the ways of humanity.
Contained within all people is the purpose for which God has created them and, unless we are willing to deny our own misconceptions, we can never completely fulfil that purpose. This is as true for the church as it is for any individual. As with the life of Christ a choice has to be made as to which path we are going to take. In choosing to die to all that we could attain with our own ideas and strength, we are opening up to the possibility of new things being produced from our lives.
It goes further than giving up those things that hinder our journey. It is not merely a spiritual keep fit program. It is about recognising the freedom that we have gained in Christ and then being willing to sacrifice that same freedom for the sake of the mission to which we are called.
In Acts chapter fifteen we read that a discussion took place about the practice of circumcision. Whilst in Antioch Paul, along with Barnabas, were in a disagreement with some men from Judea. The argument was such that a number of the church travelled to Jerusalem to consult the apostles and elders. After a speech by Peter, James brought his verdict that the Gentile believers were free from the stipulation to be circumcised.
In Chapter sixteen we read that Paul, on taking Timothy on his missionary journey, decided to circumcise him. It was obviously not essential in terms of his acceptance into the church, yet for the sake of the Gospel he made such a sacrifice.
It was for freedom that we have been set free by Christ yet we are to choose to become servants and share in his sufferings.
There is an ontological truth about the nature of creation, God, humanity, and salvation that it seems worth holding to tightly. Yet we see time and time again in scripture a contextualizing of this revelation in the reality of the mess of life. We are saved into the ontological freedom of resurrection life, but our freedom is to be planted into the context of our communities.
Sacrifice, for the Christian, is not the needless denial of the pleasures that the world can offer, it is the letting go of any claim to know what is best for our lives outside of God’s providence.
The story doesn't end there, because as we take up our cross and share in the sufferings of Christ, the promise is that we will also share in the power of his resurrection. Every church needs resurrection life to shine out of its very being. I am drawn to the idea of power but quite often the symbols of power shown in our churches do not present the best picture. When we think of power encounters our focus is often on the pre-cross encounters of Christ. I am happy with this in many ways and I am anxious, as previously stated, to see every part of the ministry of Christ in operation in our churches. We, however, are post-resurrection and this gives a whole new meaning to these encounters.
I find it difficult to read the book of Acts without being made aware of the supernatural nature of the Gospel message. Yet the real beauty, for me, is that these events are set in the normality of ordinary lives. Perhaps the idea of the coming of the Spirit is understood in a correct context when it is in fact seen in this ordinariness.
Acts Chapter one, verse eight gives us a clue:
‘….you will receive power when the Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses……….’
The coming of the Spirit brings this power, this dunamis. Its purpose: so that we might be witnesses for Christ. Its origin: the authority of God.
Because the inauguration of the mission is the coming of the Spirit of God and because the medium is women and men reflecting the glory of gospel, it must mean that this power has more to do with ‘being’ than with merely ‘doing’. The promise is that we will ‘be’ his witnesses: as opposed to you will ‘do’ my witnessing.
Therefore, the supernatural in the context of the missionary life of the church cannot be seen as just a distinct move of the Spirit of God, outside of the ordinary life of the people of God. It is not merely an event; an encounter as sometimes presented by Pentecostal churches. Incarnation, and the power it brings, is about presence within a community.
It has to do with people finding out how to ‘be’ what they are called to ‘be’ in the context where we are called to ‘be’. This 'being' is represented by resurrection power is about heaven (the rule of God) invading the ordinariness of our lives so that others might want it too. In the midst of this there is room for healing and deliverance, but not as merely isolated events. In these incarnational themes lie the foundation of the church's involvement in the plan of God.
Charismatic gifts are not a collection of isolated events but an ongoing encounter with the grace of God
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