This is worth emphasising: God asks us to have faith, but this does not mean that we are forbidden to question. Faith is not blind, unreasoning or irrational, but it does involve something more than the mere application of logic. In our present-day culture we elevate logic above all other forms of knowing. Undoubtedly, logic is good. Our reasoning ability is given to us by God precisely so that we should use it, not so that we should leave our brains behind when we come before him. However, we need to recognise that there are some things that are beyond our logic. Paradoxes arise precisely because we are not God: we do not know all things, we were not present at the creation of the world and we do not think like God: “’For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the LORD. ‘As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.’” (Isaiah 55:8-9). Unless we have faith, therefore, our understanding of the world will always be incomplete and our ability to serve God will be constrained.
God makes clear that man cannot fully grasp the way in which he works: “Look at the nations and watch – and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe even if you were told.” (Habbakuk 1:5). The fact that the Almighty is beyond our complete understanding is emphasised by St Paul: “Oh, the depths of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out! ‘Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counsellor?’” (Romans 11:33-34, quoting Isaiah 40:13).
Form and truth.
The Israelites believed that they had been faithful to God. They believed that they were “more righteous than [the Babylonians]” (Habbakuk 1:13). They had used all the correct forms for their worship and sacrifices, without realising that these had been little more than empty show, a farce and a travesty. They had obeyed the letter of the law whilst ignoring its spirit. Now they are confronted by the fact that form without truth is worthless in the sight of God. For God has seen the “injustice ... wrong ... destruction and violence ... strife and conflict” (Habbakuk 1:3) of which Habbakuk complained and is bringing judgment on those responsible for it. The message for us is that, unless we move beyond form to truth, we will always be less than we should be. We need to grasp hold of truth, for “the truth will set [us] free.” (John 8:32).
Acceptance and trust.
From the start, Habbakuk accepts the will of God. He acknowledges that God has “appointed [the Babylonians] to execute judgment” (Habbakuk 1:12) and he does not question God’s justice in doing so. Yet it is a grudging acceptance. Still he asks: “Your eyes are too pure to look on evil; you cannot tolerate wrong. Why then do you tolerate the treacherous? Why are you silent while the wicked swallow up those more righteous than themselves?” (Habbakuk 1:13).
God’s answers do not entirely do away with Habbakuk’s perplexity. Indeed, to some extent they even increase it, since it is difficult for a human being to comprehend how God might bring good through an event like the Babylonian conquest and the Israelites’ subsequent captivity. Even though he is told that the corrupt destroyer (Babylon) will eventually be destroyed, that must have seemed cold comfort. In short, Habbakuk had to learn trust, and so do we. Our task is to rest in God’s appointments and await his activity in a spirit of worship.
Living by faith.
The complaints that Habbakuk makes to God are remarkable in several ways: they assume the possibility of dialogue; they assume that God cares; and they assume that God intervenes in his world. These assumptions and the way in which God responds show some of the essential differences between the God of the Bible and the deities of other religions. He is not an impersonal force, but a person. He is not so far above and beyond man that there is no way for us to interact with him, but he is instead a God who yearns for relationship with us. He is not remote from his creation, but intimately concerned with every aspect of it.
The fundamental questions that Habbakuk puts to God are: “Why do you tolerate wrong?” (Habbakuk 1:3); “Why are you silent ...?” (Habbakuk 1:13); and “How long ...?” (Habbakuk 1:2).The answers are surprising. It is not the case that God tolerates wrong: “I am going to do something in your days” (Habbakuk 1:5), just that his timing and his way of working are different from ours. Far from being silent, God engages in debate with Habbakuk , but he does not work according to human agendas. God “is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” (2 Peter 3:9).
God’s replies take Habbakuk beyond logic to faith, beyond form to truth and beyond acceptance to trust. The prophet comes to see that the proper response is to “stand at my watch ... to see what [God] will say to me” (Habbakuk 2:1). In the light of God’s revelation about how and when he is working, his people are to live patiently and to live by faith, trusting in their sovereign Lord. These same principles that apply in the realm of our personal spiritual deliverance apply equally to our national salvation.
Conclusion.
For centuries, Norman oppression created a divided society in England. The breach is writ not just in language, but in the physical environment. In Nottingham, for example, there were long two separate boroughs: a Norman clustered around the castle and an Anglo-Saxon centred on St Mary’s church, about a mile away. Only gradually did a unified city emerge, just as a new nation was knit painfully from the long years of Norman rule.
Currently our society is more divided than it has been for many years. Beneath a pleasing surface and the illusion of harmony lie divisions of wealth, race, religion, culture and language. Some who are citizens of this land inhabit a country of the mind that is not England. Some are excluded from the opportunities that most of us take for granted. Some have lives that are blighted by hardship and pain. In responding to these situations, too often we trust to our own strength rather than turning to God. Too often we hide behind correct forms rather than risk telling the truth. Too often we accept our fellows grudgingly rather than placing genuine trust in them. We should ask ourselves how God reacts to these things and what He wants us to do about it. Like Habbakuk, we need to “stand at [our] watch and station [ourselves] on the ramparts ... to see what he will say to [us]” (Habbakuk 2:1). Like the Israelites of old, we need to “write down the revelation and make it plain” (Habbakuk 2:2) by speaking God’s truth into our workplaces, homes and politics. Like our spiritual forebears, we need to “wait for [God’s revelation]” (Habbakuk 2:3) and learn that “the righteous will live by his faith” (Habbakuk 2:4).
Above all, we need to move beyond logic to faith, beyond form to truth and beyond acceptance to trust. This is the way to build a restored England, harmonious and in right relationship with her God. This is the way to integrate the stranger, the outcast and the lost. This is the way to salve the hurts of the despised and downtrodden.
8. Stirrings
Mark 4:30-34.
Key word: freedom.
In a muddy field by the banks of the Thames gathered the signatories to a momentous document: on one side a disgruntled King John, on the other a knot of rebellious barons and the Archbishop of Canterbury, Stephen Langton. Magna Carta (the Great Charter) was signed at Runnymede in Surrey on 15 June 1215. It is widely regarded as the foundation stone of English liberties and a key text of the English constitution. Such was its totemic power that it was repeatedly re-issued by subsequent kings: by Henry III and Edward I. An amendment during the latter’s reign established the principle of ‘no taxation without representation.’
On its face, the document is hardly a democrats’ manifesto. Its sixty three clauses focus largely on matters of concern only to a privileged few, with two primary aims: to define (and thereby limit) the feudal rights of the Crown and to protect the privileges of the Church. Yet by placing a brake on the unfettered exercise of royal authority, it became a bulwark against all oppression. Combined with the writ of habeas corpus (a
requirement for the authorities to produce in court those being held in custody), the result was to secure for Englishmen an unprecedented degree of freedom from arbitrary rule.[21] Thus reaction to the rapacity of grasping John Lackland redounded to the ultimate benefit of his subjects.
The aggressive expansionism of Plantagenet kings produced a similar defining moment in Scotland: the signing of the Declaration of Arbroath in 1320. The signatories declared, “We are resolved never to submit to English domination. We are fighting for freedom and freedom only.” It was a long struggle. William Wallace (1270-1305) first roused Scottish resistance, but success at the battle of Stirling Bridge in 1297 was followed by defeat at Falkirk the very next year. Wallace went into hiding, was betrayed and at length was hanged in London as a common bandit, becoming both martyr and hero of Scotland’s cause. After his death Robert the Bruce took up the baton. He, too, was hounded and defeated, until inspired by a spider in a cave to try, try and try again. His perseverance was rewarded. Though it was not fully apparent for generations, victory over the forces of Edward II at Bannockburn in 1314 effectively set the seal on Scottish independence. Thus were seeds of freedom nurtured in England and her northern neighbour. From them in time grew great oaks.
Seed.
The parable of the mustard seed appears in the gospels of Matthew (Matthew 13:31-32), Mark (Mark 4:30-32) and Luke (Luke 13:18-19). In it, Jesus tells one of many stories in which he describes what the kingdom of heaven is like. The similes in other parables range from growing seed (Mark 4:26-29) to yeast (Matthew 13:33), hidden treasure (Matthew 13:44), a valuable pearl (Matthew 13:45-46) and a net (Matthew 13:47-50).
From amongst all these, Mark chooses to concentrate on the two that use seeds to illustrate the point, and places these hard on the heels of a parable about a farmer sowing (Mark 4:1-20). In doing this, he emphasises that the images of seed are redolent with meaning, both explicit and implicit. They tell of extraordinary results coming from what might look like unpromising material, results that come about with some element of human involvement, but the real source of which is God. They tell of activity that is hidden from the eyes of man, but which is of tremendous significance nevertheless. They give an inkling of great things to come.
Planting and nurturing.
There is hidden potential in seed. Whether this potential is realised depends on what is done with and to it. In deserts, seeds can lie dormant for years, yet burst suddenly to life at the first drop of rain. The key word is ‘when’: “Yet when it is planted, it grows” (Mark 4:32). This points to the part that human beings have to play in furthering the kingdom of God, for the seed is one that “you [that is, we] plant in the ground.” (Mark 4:31). We need to undertake the actions of planting and nurturing, and then God will do the rest. He has created the seed and all its potential. He will cause it to germinate, bud and flower. In the tremendous work of bringing about the kingdom of God on earth, however, he has made us his co-workers.
Our role is important, but needs to be kept in perspective. Speaking about the growth of the Christian community in Corinth, St Paul said: “I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labour. For we are God’s fellow-workers; you are God’s field, God’s building.” (1 Corinthians 3:6-9).
Human involvement in the process of helping bring about God’s kingdom does not end with the act of planting. Seeds need nurturing. They need to be watered, protected from frost and kept free of weeds. Of course, God is capable of bringing about astonishing things without help from anyone, but if we wish to see the fullness of his kingdom on earth, we need to be involved and to remain so. Unless the church, which is the community of all believers, really acts as the body of Christ and is unified, being “a unit, though it is made up of many parts” (1 Corinthians 12:12), potential will remain unfulfilled.
Growth.
The results that we can expect God to bring from our activity are out of all proportion to what we do. We start with “the smallest seed you plant in the ground” (Mark 4:31) and end up with “the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds of the air can perch in its shade.” (Mark 4:32). In the wondrous process of growth, we are reminded of the cycle of life and its seasonality. We are reminded of God’s bounty, of his comfort and of his protection. We see, too, the economy of his activity: that there will be from one and the same plant food, shelter and the source of future growth as more seeds are generated.
The goodness of God is shown by the fact that the blessings that come through growth in his kingdom work to the benefit of all, not merely the righteous. Thus “the birds of the air can perch in [the] shade [of the plant].” (Mark 4:32). There is no restriction on who has access to these benefits, for God “causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” (Matthew 5:45). Blessing is there for all who care to take advantage of it, though the element of choice is always present: birds may seek shade by perching in the branches and men by sheltering under them, but they do not have to. We have to opt in to the Kingdom of God.
Jesus twice came back to the image of seeds to illustrate essential elements in the process of our opting in to the kingdom of God and of being catalysts for its growth. He emphasised that our effectiveness is related to our faith: “if you have faith as small as a mustard seed ... nothing will be impossible for you.” (Matthew 17:20-21). Time and again, we see people bringing what seem like inadequate resources to a task, and God giving the increase to make them more than equal to what is needed. We see this in history and we see it in Scripture: thus the feeding of the five thousand, for example (Matthew 14:15-21; Mark 6:35-44; Luke 9:12-17 and John 6:4-13). Faith works as a multiplier, sparking and turbo-charging growth.
Jesus also used seeds to remind us of life cycles and seasonality: “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” (John 12:24). One of the paradoxes of God’s kingdom is that prodigious growth involves death. The death that is spoken of is both literal and metaphorical. There are Christians in each generation are called to die a literal death for their faith. All Christians, however, are called to die a metaphorical death: we must die to our former selves and we must “die to sins and live for righteousness.” (1 Peter 2:24). The ultimate paradox is that; “He who believes in [Jesus] will live, even though he dies, and whoever lives and believes in [Jesus] will never die.” (John 11:26). This paradox would be difficult indeed to grasp, were it not for the fact that we see its truth played out in the natural world around us, year by year and season by season.
Speaking in parables.
Jesus made great use of stories as an aid to teaching. Mark tells us that: “With many similar parables Jesus spoke the word to them, as much as they could understand. He did not say anything to them without using a parable. But when he was alone with his own disciples, he explained everything.” (Mark 4:33-34) This underlines the fact that Jesus’ message was carefully tailored. Parables were used to illustrate truths, stimulate thinking and awaken spiritual perception. Their images and language were accessible to all – everyday folk in a largely agricultural society would have identified easily with stories about seeds – but people in general were not ready for the full truth of the gospel. Jesus did not burden them with concepts that would have gone over their heads, but instead gave them “as much as they could understand.” (Mark 4:33).
When alone with his disciples, Jesus taught more specifically, for even those closest to him usually had to have things explained. He was continually equipping and training his disciples. They needed to understand the message fully because in a short time it was they who would be preaching it to the nations. Yet something else is at work here. Jesus told his disciples that: “… The secret of the kingdom of God ha
s been given to you. But to those on the outside everything is said in parables ...” (Mark 4:11). The underlying message of the parables was explosive. It was not what people wanted or expected to hear, though it was the truth. Many therefore found it difficult to accept, remaining “ever seeing but never perceiving, and ever hearing but never understanding” (Isaiah 6:9-10, Matthew 13:14, Mark 4:12 and Luke 8:10). On hearing the discourse in which Jesus called himself “the bread of life” (John 6:48), for example, “many of his disciples said, ‘This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?’” (John 6:60) and “From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.” (John 6:66).
Time and again, Jesus presaged what he said with the phrase “I tell you the truth.” He said that he is “the way, the truth and the life” (John 14:6). He reminded us that with truth comes freedom, for “the truth will set you free.” (John 8:32). The kind of truth that Jesus spoke about, a truth that permits no lame excuses or shifting of blame, a truth that cuts through dross and illuminates what is really worthwhile, a truth that can sometimes be uncomfortable or run counter to all that we want to hear seems in short supply in present-day England. We need to rediscover this truth, and with it our freedom.
Conclusion.
The Germanic tribes that settled England were noted for their love of freedom: the Roman historian Tacitus remarks on their independent spirit. Freedom is one of the essentials of what it is to be an Englishman: freedom from arbitrary rule, from government caprice and from the prying eyes of those who (to quote Elizabeth I) would “make windows into men’s souls.” Three hundred and sixty years ago the Parliamentary soldiers who reflected on why the Civil War was fought characterised it as having been for “the good old cause”. By this they meant the cause of English liberty, which they traced back beyond Magna Carta to the days when our forebears first reached these shores.
Redeeming a Nation (Timeless Teaching) Page 6