Marked Pages

The North Atlantic Treaty Organization or NATO, also called the (North) Atlantic Alliance, is an intergovernmental military alliance based on the North Atlantic Treaty which was signed on 4 April 1949 … the organization constitutes a system of collective defence whereby its member states agree to mutual defense in response to an attack by any external party. (Wikipedia)

Conversely, and for the purposes of this post, NATO also means No Action, Talk Only!

“For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power” (1 Corinthians 4: 20)

If life consisted only of the words we speak, I tell you, this would be a magnificent world. As it is though, the world is pretty nasty much of the time, which is why we often sing the song: “Look for the silver lining …” The rest of it, you see, is dark clouds.

Paul’s context was the arrogant and quarrelling Corinthians, of course. Drunk with the thought of spiritual power and position, these Corinthian leaders had been badmouthing Paul to the people (v. 19), claiming that he was nothing but an impotent and weak old man in comparison to themselves (2 Cor. 1: 17; 10: 10). Paul’s defence is interesting. Since the Corinthians were, by and large, quite enthralled by power, he answers their backbiting with verse 20: God’s kingdom is not proven in mere verbiage, but rather comes in the demonstration of his power over life changed, transformed, re-created and renewed. The “kingdom of God” phrase Paul uses (v. 20) is not eschatological, but refers to the now and present work of God reigning over his people and transforming their lives into the image of Jesus Christ. The power of Christ, Paul insists, is demonstrated and proven in the new creation and newness of life changed and liberated through the hearing of the gospel (Romans 1: 16). His challenge to the erring Corinthians was this: if they could demonstrate power through transformed lives which reflected God’s holiness and character, then he would certainly believe that they were right. If their power shows were nothing but big boasts, he would descend on them with the power and authority invested on him by God to discipline them (v. 21)! What would they prefer, he asks. Should he come to them with a whip, or in a spirit of gentleness? It really was up to them, but come to them he would.

It seems to me that the Christian walk today is full of “verbal pitfalls,” so much so that we are all terribly guilty of the sentiments expressed by the acronym NATO–and I’m not talking about any defence alliance! Yes indeed, we are (in)famous for No Action, Talk Only. We sing mighty songs in church though (“Touching heaven, changing earth,” no less!) … but they end when the service ends. We are quite incapable, many of us, to take the victory assured us in the powerful gospel, into the areas of our personal and communal defeats and bondages.  We imagine that spiritual effectiveness is seen in displays of power, of immediate answers from heaven to our petitions for our needs and wants: “Taste and see that the Lord is good!”

However, maturity and real spiritual effectiveness lie elsewhere. If our lives are not changed, then no amount of talk will make us pleasing to God (Colossians 1: 10) or convince others of our spirituality. People need to witness the transformation in us, to see the character and backbone in us, and to hear (yes, words not excepting …) our faithful proclamation and teaching of the ways of God.

If we don’t demonstrate the power of God at work in us through the gospel, then we must ask ourselves honestly: Am I really a follower of Christ? Am I an eikon, a fitting reflection and image of Christ, as he is of the Father? Or am I something else masquerading in Christian-sheep’s clothes, baa-ing away unconvincingly?

The more I read Paul, the more I understand that the power of God is nowhere expressed as well or perfectly as in the gospel. And nowhere can I be a more effective witness of that power than in the demonstration of a life that has been transformed by the touch of grace. I’m not talking about evangelism alone, or conversions. The gospel’s power extends far beyond that first step which we take, as Paul tells us.

There is no power show greater than this. There is no higher or worthier exploit that I could give my energies to than to yield myself to the re-creation of my person and being so that I become, crafted in God’s hands, an image of holiness and well-being.

All our so-called “deeds” for Christ, the plans we dream up in his Name, are very little in the end in comparison with the mighty gospel at work in the re-creation of a broken life. Christians keep stressing the wrong things, the small things, sometimes in very loud voices. No Action, Talk Only about the real issues! It’s strange how we puff up the inconsequential things that God is not overly-concerned about, like our fancy programmes and our buildings and our shows and our banners … these are the things of the world, they don’t warrant that much attention …

If we’re not careful, we will find ourselves like the boastful Corinthians. Perhaps it’s time for a spot check, just to see how we’re keeping our accounts books. God may well be asking us what Paul asked the Corinthians: “What do you prefer? Shall I come to you with a rod of discipline, or shall I come in love and with a gentle spirit?” I wonder what our answer is.

“I want to know Christ …” (Philippians 3: 10)

Oswald Chambers is one writer I have always loved reading, and My Utmost for His Highest has been a personal favourite devotional for a long time. These days, My Utmost for His Highest comes in contemporary English, pocket-sized paperbacks that slip easily into pockets and handbags alike, and come in different colours too! My daily planner even has portions of My Utmost for His Highest at the beginning of every month–to remind me who I am working and reaching for.

I love Chambers’ thoughts because they are focused on the spiritual life. Chambers had basically one thought, and it really is this: to know Christ. As the Bible defines it, all of life’s goals dovetail in one primary goal alone: seeking God. In “The Spiritual Saint” (My Utmost, July 11), Chambers observes, “The initiative of the saint is not towards self-realization, but towards knowing Jesus Christ.” The bible passage is taken from Philippians 3: 10. I prefer the NIV, which expresses the sentiment more forcefully, I think.

Much of Christianity today seems to veer away from this central obsession. Much of our faith today seems focused on other things than desiring God. It isn’t that we do not actively wish to know him, but it seems that this desire doesn’t stand above all else as the desire of desires; and it doesn’t occupy centre place as the heart and pulse of what we are. That takes away from the concentration of both our life and energy, somehow. We are dissipated and loose because we fly in all different directions, seeking many ”spiritual” things, of course, but none of them truly says to God that he is our “all in all.”

There is no one spiritual locus or focus for us to attach to, to be truly anchored in. We are, in spite of professing Christianity, flotsam and jetsam bobbing about on an open ocean. The reason for this is found in what Chambers says we should not be doing: we really are just seeking to “fulfil” ourselves. “Self-realisation” is a big contemporary term. There are enough fashionable gurus out there to tell us how important this is that there is no need to belabour the point. “Find yourself” is the preoccupation of our age. But any true servant of God will tell us the truth about self-realisation, finding yourself, and the rest of it. As the main and chief end of life, it simply is not worth it.

In fact, Jesus put the case in the most violent and graphic way possible: “Take up your cross, deny yourself and come, follow me.” We are so familiar with that scripture that often, it escapes us that what Christ is saying is for us to be willing to be anti-”self-realisation”, forget “finding yourself”, accept annihilation of our self-centredness, abandon ourselves and follow him.  The view is anything but pleasant! But self-emptying in order to “know Christ” is precisely what we should be obsessed about. “The initiative of the saint is … knowing Christ.”

I keep making comparisons between these days and those days. It’s an unfortunate comparison, though, but nevertheless, contemporary expressions of the faith seem to bear my comments out. Perhaps it’s the case that any analysis of our times draws out the worst weaknesses and vulnerabilities and overlooks the strengths. But when I read the “popular” books on Christian living, and listen to the kind of well-received “sermons” that are rife, I’m actually hard-pressed to see our “strengths”. We do honestly live in a most self-centred, self-indulgent age … Christian or not, our main purpose in life is for our own convenience, most of the time. And many of us actually do not realise that “giving up” is key to spiritual maturity, as contrasted with “getting more”!

What is ironical is that the only way we will ever “come to” ourselves is by emptying out ourselves, and focusing instead on knowing God and seeking him. Religion isn’t at all about self-empowerment, or enhancement, or realisation. Religious faith that is genuine takes us outside of ourselves as the prime consideration and asks: “Who is God?” Paul in Philippians answers this: “I want to know Christ because knowing everything else without Christ in the centre is pure rubbish.”

We can only come to rest when we give up our pursuit of our elusive self, that slippery salmon. More ironies: the only way we will ever be fulfilled and truly happy is when we are emptied of our own considerations, and given over to the life of Christ.

The final words must belong to Chambers: “Self-realization leads to the enthronement of work; whereas the saint enthrones Jesus Christ in his work. The aim of the spiritual saint is “that I may know Him.” Do I know Him where I am to-day? If not, I am failing Him. I am here not to realize myself, but to know Jesus …. the spiritual saint … is to secure the realization of Jesus Christ in every set of circumstances he is in.”

⁷ Some time later the brook dried up because there had been no rain in the land. ⁸ Then the word of the LORD came to him: ⁹ “Go at once to Zarephath in the region of Sidon and stay there. I have directed a widow there to supply you with food.” (1 Kings 17: 7-9)

Elijah lived a pretty interesting life. Rugged and tough, he moved from desert to town with an ease that is enviable. His ministry seemed pretty seamless too–he was God’s prophet given to both king and peasant, man and woman. It made little difference where he found himself: the Lord was always within reach.

                                    Giovanni Girolamo Savoldo
                                           Elijah Fed by the Raven, c. 1510

The remarkable life and ministry of this tough old prophet makes good reading. I have always found the interminable lists of wicked and evil kings in the biblical history books tedious, but insert a mad prophet here and there into the narrative, and you have an adventure story that beats everything. The story of Elijah’s struggle with Ahab and his conniving wife, Jezebel is well-known. Elijah’s stand against the corruption and idolatry in Ahab’s Israel was often a minority one, but it didn’t faze him one bit. In any case, he probably knew that the majority weren’t always right.

During the time of his prophesied drought, the Lord instructed him to retreat into the wilderness, and camp by the brook Kerith. Ravens, God said, would bring him food, and the brook provided him with water. Needing nothing else by way of necessity, Elijah lived in this hermit-like way, satisfied with the Lord’s provision. Eventually, however, the brook dried up, as God knew it would. When the heavy rains of late autumn and early winter failed to materialise, God set into play the second stage of providing for his prophet. More instructions came to Elijah: move out to Zarephath in Sidon.

From the brook Kerith, east of the Jordan, all the way to Sidon, was a long walk indeed. Worse yet, Sidon was Gentile, and the home territory of Jezebel, who wanted Elijah’s head. But God said that was where Elijah would find bread and water, in the house of a widow.

These two stories, of Elijah and the ravens, and Elijah and the widow of Zarephath, are intriguing. In the first, God draws the prophet into the wilderness, far away from danger, where he lived a hermit-like existence, relying solely on God’s provision. Secondly, God sends him right into his enemy’s territory, fishing out a single widow whose heart was ready to give up her last meal so that the prophet could eat (1 Kings 17: 10-16).

It’s interesting that in both stories, God kept Elijah under the radar of Ahab and Jezebel. More so, he was also nourishing Elijah’s faith for his later ministry, by his faithful provision of something as basic as food and drink during a time of drought. Whether the desert or a Gentile town, Elijah remained secure in the shadow of his wings.

Elijah also recognised God’s timing: when the brook Kerith dried up, that was the signal to move on. The drought did not end: Elijah knew that, since he himself had prophesied a three-year drought. In terms of the bigger circumstances, nothing had changed. If anything, the drought had intensified. Worse yet, Elijah’s source of sustenance was now cut off. But he recognised the start of a new stage for himself. Hearing God, he got up and left a resource that had simply dried up.

God’s next stage was no walk in the park either. Travelling west and upwards towards Zarephath could not have been a safe journey for Elijah. Deliberately entering into enemy territory would not have been the wisest thing to do on a normal day. But that was what he did. When he entered Zarephath, he did not find a scene of comfort or abundance. The first widow he saw was on the brink of starvation. But he knew what God had said to him–the widow had been assigned to sustain him.

What happened thereafter was a challenge both to Elijah and the widow: should they take God at his word? In this story, both did. The prophet knew his God, and strangely enough, the Gentile Sidonian widow recognised the prophet of Israel, and the God he served. Elijah was indeed sustained by the widow, who in turn, was sustained by the God Elijah served. They had bread and oil and drink enough to last them throughout the time Elijah remained in the widow’s care.

But the wider circumstances had not changed … the drought went on. Within the context of great challenges and difficulties, Elijah lived out his faith and calling in God. He went from one un-ideal situation to another worse one. Yet, in both situations, he was held by his trust in God, and nourished by God’s hand. What impresses me about Elijah is his recognition of God’s hand and touch on every circumstance of his life. He understood God’s timing, and moved according to the seasons of his words.

Elijah was a tough old bird. The desert winds worked on him and the sun leathered him well. But it was God who chiselled his inner profile to be exactly that man who, being ordinary was nevertheless righteous (James 5: 17), and whose prayers and words sparked a divine response like nothing else would.