Matthew 10 – The universal equation

Before a big fat hairy caterpillar can fulfil its unlikely destiny, and take to the air on beautiful, reckless wings of little more than coloured tissue paper, it must first undergo a radical and terrifying metamorphosis.

Before a caterpillar can take to the air, it must first take to the grave.  It must first build its own burial chamber; it must cocoon itself within.  It must first undergo a kind of death.

And “in that sleep of death what dreams may come”? (Hamlet: Act 3, Scene 1)

What dreams of flesh melting like wax… flowing… coalescing… reforming… according to some new and unknown design?  What dreams of “identity”, of “personality” and its every possession, evaporating like water – viewpoints… priorities… motivations… concerns… and every familiar way of thinking, slowly ebbing away and being supplanted by something frighteningly new and disturbingly alien?

But when those exquisitely patterned wings finally open and catch their first summer breeze, does the butterfly even remember that it once crawled in the murky shadows far, far below?

In Matthew 10, we find the very first mention in the New Testament, of the cross.

10:38 And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me.

And I guess it’s true to say that no-one “follows after” Jesus for very long without the spectre of death rearing its ugly head at some point along the way.  In fact, I guess it’s true to say that death, every bit as much as life, or birth, is at the very centre of the Christian message.

The man who said, “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly” (John 10:10), also said…

He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it. (Matthew 10:39)

Death.

It’s the “elephant” in the room that no-one likes to talk about.

But death casts such a long shadow, and we live under it, from the moment we take our first breath, to the moment we breathe our last (Matthew 4:16).

Death is a visit to the vet’s at age seventeen.  The needle entering just above the paw.  Her body relaxing ever so slightly.  Looking in her eyes, and they looked just the same.  How could that be!?  They talk about the light going out of your eyes, don’t they?  But her eyes looked just the same.

Death is struggling to read the small print at age forty-seven.  The same eyes look back at me from the shaving mirror, but how did they get to be in my father’s face!?

Christians talk readily enough about the “new birth”, about being “born again”.  But birth is only one half of the universal equation.  Before the new life can begin, the old one has to come to an end.  Before there can be a rebirth, there must first be a “passing away” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Remember, the man who said, “Ye must be born again” (John 3:7), also said…

Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. (John 12:24)

Unless a seed falls into the ground and “dies”, it will always be nothing more than a seed.  Jesus was clearly referring to his own imminent death, but I believe he was also taking about you, and me.

A caterpillar carries deep within its genetic makeup, the potential to become a butterfly.  Deep within the caterpillar-life, there is another life-principle just waiting for the opportunity to manifest itself.  But that butterfly-life can never be realised, unless the caterpillar-life first makes way for it.  There will never be a fluttering of butterfly-wings, until that hopelessly earth-bound caterpillar “falls into the ground and dies”.

By the same token, deep within you and me is the potential to become something radically – perhaps even frighteningly – different.  That potential is not locked up in our genetic code, but entered our hopelessly earth-bound lives from the outside, at Bethlehem, and at Calvary.  Deep within this “mortal flesh”, has been planted another life-principle – Christ-life: the very essence of God himself – just waiting for the opportunity to “manifest” itself (2 Corinthians 4:11).

But that Christ-life can never be realised, unless this human-life first makes way for it.  There will never be a golden head of wheat swaying in the breeze, until that shrivelled brown seed “falls into the ground and dies”.

For a Christian, death is not a one-time deal.  Death is not a one-off, and hopefully far-distant, future event.  Death is not an end, but a process.

Referring to the way that he literally lived in constant danger of his life, Paul said, “I die daily” (1 Corinthians 15:31).  But in a sense, as Christians, we too must learn to die daily, and to daily be reborn.

To die daily.  To die hourly.  To die continually.  Moment by moment.  At this very moment.  As I write.  As you read.

To die.  And in that death, to be reborn.

To die to every viewpoint and priority, every motivation and concern.  To die to “personality” and its every possession.

And then, when all seems lost, to see that “personality” miraculously take to the air, resurrected, renewed, transformed, set free, to be what at heart it was always meant to be.

And when this human-life finally steps aside, and the resurrection-life of Christ lifts me up to “heavenly places” in him (Ephesians 2:6), does that “new creature” in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17) even remember that it once crawled in the murky shadows far, far below?

Matthew 9 – They that be whole need not

Imagine you were God.

And you’d come to earth to set up your kingdom.

And you were looking for the right people to help you run it.

I wonder… who would you pick?

Perhaps you’d draw up a list of the qualities you’d hope to find in the ideal candidate:

• Must be religious (non-churchgoers need not apply)
• Must be an acknowledged spiritual leader, pastor and teacher
• Must be devout and pious, a man/woman of prayer
• Must be a well-respected, upstanding, pillar of the community, active in local charities and voluntary organisations
• Must give at least, say, 10% of income to the church
• Must be a non-smoking, non-drinking, non-fornicating, perfect family man/woman

Imagine you lived in first century, Roman-occupied Palestine.

You could’ve probably done a whole lot worse than to select a few interviewees from a certain religious sect, mentioned thirty times in the book of Matthew (on average about once a chapter!), and right there in the thick of it as usual in Matthew chapter 9.

The Pharisees.

Devout; religious; holding to the highest moral standards; popular with the people; exemplifying everything upright and decent, respectable and godly.

The Pharisees were basically a “shoo-in” for the top job, and they knew it.  And it’s quite obvious from their remarks in Matthew 9:11 that they’d already picked-out wallpaper for their new executive offices up on the top floor.

“Here comes the big announcement, guys.  Remember, just act casual, and try to look surprised.  Wait a minute, why is he going over to those publicans and sinners!?”

Imagine their surprise then, when the Chief Executive himself started to call out the names, and amongst them were:

• A paraplegic (Matthew 9:2)
• A social and religious outcast, excommunicated from the synagogue (Matthew 9:9)
• A corpse (Matthew 9:18)
• An “unclean” woman, “polluting” everyone she came into contact with (Matthew 9:20)
• Two blind men (Matthew 9:27)
• And a demon-possessed mute (Matthew 9:32)

And much to the chagrin of the Pharisees, the only qualifications God seemed to be interested in were:

• Sickness – They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick (Matthew 9:12)
• Sin – I am not come to call the righteous, but sinners (Matthew 9:13)

And that desperate, last-ditch, reaching-out-and-clinging-onto-something that Jesus called…

• Faith – Be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole (Matthew 9:22)

Faith?  Sure.  Must be a man/woman of faith.  That would be on anyone’s tick-list.

But, sin?  You’re having a laugh!

And, sickness?  How on earth can sickness qualify anyone for anything!?

Sickness is an aberration, a malfunction, a wrong state of being.

Some people say that the presence of sickness and disease in the world proves that there is no God.  At the other end of the spectrum, some people say that sickness is of the Devil, and it’s not God’s will for anyone to be sick.

If they were still here today, maybe that’s what the Pharisees would say.  Certainly, that’s what some of Jesus’ disciples seemed to be saying, when they asked him whose sins were to blame for a man’s lifelong blindness (John 9:2).

Jesus’ terse response to all such thinking is simply, “Only the sick man has need of a doctor.”

Perhaps it’s also true to say that only the sick man is aware of the “wrongness” of his situation, of the “wrongness” at the very heart of the human condition.

When a chronic depressive turns back the sheets on a bright new day, and the morning lies before him like an unbearable weight, he doesn’t need anyone to tell him that something’s not quite right with the world.

And as paradoxical as it may seem, that sense of “wrongness”, that sense of “need”, is the only true gateway to God, and the ultimate “rightness” of perfect “oneness” with him.

Jesus said, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God” (Matthew 19:24).

And for a man who possesses all of life’s riches, in health, wealth, talent and temperament, position and popularity, how difficult it is to see more than two feet beyond those dazzling, all-consuming blessings, which unfortunately, like the proverbial “all good things”, must one day come to an end.

How perverse is human nature, when the more blessed we are, the more difficult it becomes to see the wood for the trees – to see the one, true blessing, which lies at the root of all blessings – the blessing of possessing God himself, and with him, all things.

How difficult it is for the little “Pharisee” in me, with all his comfortable respectability, his cold religiosity, his all-important social standing, to reach out, as the woman of Matthew 9:20 reached out – to reach out with nothing to lose, nothing to offer, nothing more to give – to reach out with hands that were empty enough to take hold of what so many in the crowd were too “heavy laden” to carry – to reach out “having nothing, and yet possessing all things” (2 Corinthians 6:10).

In one of Aesop’s fables, the North Wind and the Sun had a competition to decide which of them was the strongest.  They agreed that whoever first succeeded in making a passing traveller take off his cloak would be declared the winner.  The more the North Wind blew, the more the traveller wrapped his cloak around him, the more tightly he clutched it to his chest.  Only in the warming rays of the Sun did the traveller finally relax his grip, and let the now-superfluous cloak fall from his shoulders.

Sickness.

It can bend you.  It can twist you.

It can crush you.

But how perverse is human nature – in the warm sunshine of blessing, God so easily becomes “superfluous”, an unnecessary burden, just an extra weight to be carried on the road; whilst in the howling gale of sickness, the stricken traveller needs no encouragement to reach out for something – anything – to shield him from the blast; he needs no encouragement to reach for that once-burdensome “cloak”, to wrap it firmly around his shoulders, to clutch it tightly to his chest, to cling onto it with all his might.

Perhaps Paul said it best.

Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me

(2 Corinthians 12:9).

Matthew 8 – Pressed on every side

Do you know how it feels to be pressed on every side?

Paul certainly did (see 2 Corinthians 1:8 and 4:8).

And so did Jesus.

At the beginning of Matthew 8, we find him mobbed by “great multitudes”; but it’s perhaps informative that although crowds of people pressed him on every side, the only one to really “touch” him was a solitary leper, crying out from a socially-acceptable distance, well beyond the edge of the throng.

In verse 5, we find Jesus retreating to Capernaum, and seeking brief respite from his public ministry in the privacy of Peter’s home…

But en route: a centurion, “beseeching him”…

Awaiting him at the house: Peter’s mother-in-law, lying “sick of a fever”…

And by evening, word of his whereabouts begins to reach the crowds; and again they come.

And again, upon himself, he “takes their infirmities” and “bares their sicknesses” (verse 17)…

And again, he is forced to move on.

As Jesus prepares to board a boat bound for the far shore of the Sea of Galilee, an earnest young scribe comes breathlessly pledging to follow him anywhere – to the ends of the earth if need be!  And is that a trace of irony in Jesus’ response, or am I perhaps just projecting my own feelings onto him?

“Follow me anywhere, would you?  And yet, truly, I alone, in all of creation, have nowhere I can go.  Truly, I alone have nowhere to lay my head.”

So, in verse 24 we find him huddled in the bottom of the boat, and sleeping the sleep of the bone-weary.  Did he know what awaited him on the other shore, I wonder? – Pigs, and tombs, and demons, and indignant locals, requesting him to kindly stay away.

And then, as though even nature itself was determined not to give the poor guy a break, as though even God himself was against him…

8:24 …behold, there arose a great tempest in the sea, insomuch that the ship was covered with the waves…

Do you know how it feels to be pressed on every side?

Jesus certainly did.

And the question that always seems to spring so readily to mind is… why?  I don’t ask God for any special favours, or any special treatment, but if he can’t bring himself to help me, couldn’t he at least stop putting extra obstacles in my way!?

Why?  It’s hard to find an answer when you’re hunkered down in the bottom of your boat.  But the answer Paul found is recorded in his second letter to the Corinthians…

1:8 For we would not, brethren, have you ignorant of our trouble which came to us in Asia, that we were pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life:

1:9 But we had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead:

Humanly, Jesus was utterly spent, “poured out like water” (Psalm 22:14), exhausted enough to sleep through a howling gale, and then barely bat an eyelid as the waves crashed over the sides of the ship and the cold seawater sloshed all around his soggy, makeshift bed.

But it wasn’t human frailty that “arose” from the bottom of the boat.  It wasn’t human weakness that “rebuked” the winds and the sea.  It was impossible for the incessant turmoil of human life to bring forth such a “great calm” (Matthew 8:26).

In Jesus was something “un-crushable”, inexhaustible, indomitable.  Beyond and above his frail human flesh was something rock-solid and unshakable.  As though his humanity was just the tip of a gigantic iceberg, the visible pinnacle of a towering mountain of divine strength.

Do you know how it feels to be pressed on every side?

In Christ, you are a “partaker” of the same “divine nature” that dwelt within him (2 Peter 1:4).  Perhaps, as Paul says, it’s time to stop trusting in yourself; perhaps it’s time to let those things that press, press through the brittle crust of your humanity, so that you can start plumbing the unfathomable depths of God – those hidden depths of divine “life, and health, and peace”, which were there all along, did you but know it, lying just beneath the surface.

Matthew 7 – Beached

7:13 Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat:

7:14 Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.

7:24 Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock:

7:26 And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand:

Hello there!

My name’s Sandy Broad, and I’m here today to tell you about Broadway Bay Developments – the place where you can live like a star, right here on the beach – the place where you can build your own little piece of heaven, right here on the beautiful, golden sand.

But, listen folks, I don’t expect you to just take my word for it – that’s why I’ve invited a few friends along to help me paint you a picture of what life’s really like here at Broadway Bay.

So, first of all, please put your hands together and let’s give a big Broadway Bay welcome to, Mr David Soulful...  Come on up here, Davie!

Now, when David came to Broadway Bay back in the summer of ’69, little did he know that he was about to begin a kind of journey – a spiritual journey of self-discovery that would change the course of his life forever.

You see, in my humble opinion, David is one of our nation’s most gifted singer-songwriters, and when he first came to Broadway Bay, well in a way, it was like coming home to a place he’d never been before.  For the first time, out at Introspection Point, Davie found a place where he could truly explore his innermost feelings, his most deeply-felt emotions – a place where he could, in his own words, “sing the slowly turning pain of this poor heart of mine”.

So at Introspection Point, we built Davie a house – and much more than a house.  Because, in truth, the house was just a focal point, a fulcrum, around which David could build his whole life – a channel, through which David could pour out his whole life in poetry and song.

And speaking of which… we do have a few copies of David’s new album, My Poor Sad Sweet Self, which you’ll be able to purchase at the back of the hall, right after this presentation.

So let’s hear it one more time folks, for Mr David Soulful!

And now, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to another good friend of mine... Mr J. B. Walton aaaaaaaaand family!

Come on up here, JB!  Come on up here, Mrs W!  Come on up here, kids!

I’m sure JB won’t mind me telling you that he had the most miserable childhood you could ever imagine – the only child of an only child – no-one knows how many long, lonely nights he spent sitting in front of a TV set, dreaming of the idyllic family life he saw portrayed there.

But here at Broadway Bay, we’re in the business of making dreams come true.  And JB will tell you, that’s exactly what we did for him all those years ago, when we moved JB, and his lovely new wife Loretta, into one of the wonderful family homes, in the wonderful family neighbourhood, of Scant Comfort Cove.

I tell you, we must be doing something right, because Loretta’s expecting number nine in the fall, and their eldest, JB Junior, is hoping to make JB a granddaddy, just in time for Christmas!

And you know folks, when I asked JB what the best thing is about family life here in Broadway Bay, do you know what he told me?  He told me, “Sandy, you’ve heard it said that when a father dies, he lives on in his children?”

Then, he just put one of those great big hands of his on my shoulder, and with a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Well, Sandy, I intend to live on an awful looong time!”

That’s right!  Give it up folks, for the Walton family!

All right now.  There’s just one more guest I’d like you all to meet – a very special guest, and a very special friend… please welcome with me, the Reverend Slim Veneer!

Come on up here, Rev!

I guess there’s not a man, woman or child who’s not heard of the Free Assemblies of Broadway Bay, the Reverend’s flourishing church, which we locals like to simply and affectionately call, the FABB Fellowship.  The Rev tells me that he’s now laying-on up to five back-to-back services every Sunday, just to accommodate his ever-growing congregation!

But what not everyone may be aware of is that just a few short years ago, FABB was anything but “fabulous”.  For instance, when Rev Veneer first arrived at Broadway Bay, the entire congregation of the FABB Fellowship would have easily fitted into the Ping-Pong room of today’s church!

The Rev was simply appalled by the lack of purpose, drive and ambition he found amongst god’s own people – people who were seemingly content to worship in a building that, for all intents and purposes, had scarcely changed since their great-grandfathers worshipped there!

But, within just eighteen months of the Rev’s arrival, the old church had been demolished, and the foundations were already being laid for the gigantic church mega-plex you see today, with its twenty-five thousand seat auditorium, its giant fifty-foot TV screen (which ensures folks at the back don’t miss any of the platform-action!), its cafes, its conference suites, its fully-equipped gym, sauna and health spa – not to mention the mini-mall and twelve-lane bowling alley the Rev recently submitted plans for!

But I guess, for me, what exemplifies Reverend Veneer, and the whole FABB project, is that they’ve taken what to many is just a prayer, and turned it into a statement of intent.  Because at FABB, it’s not just, “Thy kingdom come” – sometime, anytime, never; it’s, “Together, we can build it!” – a kingdom of decency, prosperity, and good old-fashioned neighbourliness, right here in Broadway Bay!

So let’s just thank the Reverend for his incredibly precious time, folks; and if there are any questions, I’d be pleased to take one or two right now…

Yes, thank you – the gentleman in the garish spotted tie.  Do you have a question, sir?

Yes.  Delvin Debree of the Bay Chronicle.  Isn’t it true, Mr Broad, that there’s been something of an exodus from Broadway Bay in recent weeks – bay residents just upping sticks and joining the small, ramshackle communities that’ve grown-up on the slopes of Narroway Ridge?

Well now, Mr… Debree, is it?  I don’t know where you people get your information from, but I do believe that if you check your sources you’ll find that the only people who’ve left Broadway Bay recently are the kind of people that, quite frankly, we’re not too sorry to see the back of!  And if a bunch of bums, winos, and floozies want to drag their pitiful hides up that narrow, death-trap of a road, and set-up house on that God-forsaken rock… well, I don’t think too many people will be shedding a tear down here, on the beautiful beaches of Broadway Bay.

Narroway Ridge!?  What kind of a place is that to raise a family?  My God, it doesn’t even have a sea-view!

Narroway Ridge!?  I’ll tell you something about Narroway Ridge: I was up there hunting deer a few weeks ago, and do you know what the road-sign says?  Well, I’ll tell you what it says: it says…

Welcome to

NARROWAY RIDGE

Population:  “Few there be”

In Friendship With:  “The poor in spirit”