Have You Been Good this Year? (Romans 5.8)

Photo by Clint Patterson on Unsplash

Introduction

 

Someone was talking the other week about a knock at the door on Christmas Eve when they were a child. Who could it possibly be? Well, I’ll tell you; it was Father Christmas, the actual Santa in person, standing right there on the doorstep.

 

(This never happened to me by the way. Perhaps starting all my letters to Santa with the three words, “let me explain…” was never the best strategy). 

 

But it happened somewhere else, and the kids couldn't quite believe it; of all the houses in the entire world, he picks theirs to personally drop by and pay a visit. What are the chances? Anyway, they invite him in, and he sits down. But let’s just say the experience is a touch disappointing. 

 

Santa, it turns out, is notably skinnier than in all the pictures. And a bit scruffy around the edges. And then, he is considerably less jolly than advertised, and his white beard is suspiciously connected to a string of elastic. And the kids don’t say anything, but they are all thinking, wait a minute, this isn’t the real Santa, it’s just Uncle Malcolm in a costume. 

 

And I say this because I think for many people, maybe for you, church at Christmas can feel a little bit like that experience. The nativity play, the moving star, the three kings, the shepherds, the wee donkey, no room at the inn and all that… 

 

It can almost seem like a warm up act for the pantomime in a few week’s time… It’s all very well, but it doesn’t seem quite real. Like a fairy story you don’t take seriously, but you have to kind of play along with, because it’s tradition. 

 

Pretending 

 

Speaking of Father Christmas, did you ever go to Santa's Grotto when you were small? What could be more exciting for a child, than going there with your parents to see the man, the myth, the legend in person? Even if, let’s be honest, most kids aren’t all that interested in the encounter itself; what they really queue up for is the present at the end.

 

But you have to go through all the small talk. What’s your name? How old are you? Like he cares… And then Santa cuts to the chase and asks you the question you know has been coming. He says, “have you been good this year?” Now, that's a bit problematic, because you know in vivid detail the honest answer to that question, but you also desperately want a present.

 

And so, crossing your fingers, you say, “Oh yes, I've been extra good this year.” Then you come away feeling a bit guilty because you’ve trashed your good name with a string of lies, just to get a cheap plastic toy, made in China. 

 

I so wish I could travel back in time. Have you ever wanted to do that? I’d love to. And if I could, I could choose that Saturday in December 1960-whenever it was, in that shopping centre on Southend High Street when I met Santa. And I would choose that day so that this time I could give him my honest answer. 

 

Which would go something like this: When he asked me, “and have you been good this year?” I would say, “no - no, I haven’t. Not at all. In fact, the truth is it’s been a record year for mischief and mayhem. But get real, Santa; even for a single day, no one can be 100% good all the time. So 365 days in a row, that’s mission impossible isn’t it? So I feel you’re holding me to an unrealistic standard. But while we’re on the subject of being good, Santa, neither have you. Haven’t you been just a little bit loose with the sherry and mince pies? Those red cheeks and that waistline are a bit of a giveaway! And anyway, Santa, if Christmas is about anything, it's not about earning, it’s about grace. And grace is all about a completely unearned gift, a totally undeserved present. Christmas has never meant you can only have presents if you're good enough. So actually, Santa, it doesn't really matter if I've been good or if I've behaved badly all year. All that matters is that I admit my many lapses and that I'm willing to receive the gift that's offered me. And basically Santa, I do admit and I am willing. So stop asking these annoying, moralizing questions and hand over my present now. Merry Christmas to you too. Thank you, Santa, that is all.” 

 

That is where I would go with my Time Machine.

 

Grace

 

But here’s the serious point: God doesn't love you because you are good. He loves you because he is good. And consequently, at Christmas, we don't give people gifts because they earn them. We give people gifts because we love them. 

 

And the whole point of Christmas is that God has given his Son Jesus to save us, not because we're good, which we’re not, but because we’re loved, which we are. 

 

The Bible says that it is while we were still sinners, when we were all messed up, and at our rock-bottom worst, that Christ came and died for us (Romans 5.8).

 

And it says, “thanks be to God for his indescribable gift” (2 Corinthians 9.6) – Jesus is God’s gift of everlasting love and everlasting life.

 

What we find throughout the Bible is that we can never climb our way up to God, so we’re not expected to. It’s always God who comes down to us.

 

In the film Trains, Planes and Automobiles, Steve Martin and John Candy play two guys trying by any means possible to get home in time for Thanksgiving, but every means of transport they try goes wrong. 

 

In one scene, one of them accidentally sets a car on fire with a cigarette while driving along the freeway. The car is a rattling, smouldering lump of scrap, with bits falling off it, but miraculously it’s still just about moving. Anyway, the highway patrol pulls them over, and a cop leans over and says, “Do you feel this vehicle is safe for highway travel?” And the driver says, “Yes sir, yes I do. It’s not pretty, but it’ll get you to where you want to go.”

 

It’s hilarious and off the wall but that is how some people feel about their minor religious achievements or moral successes. 

 

When God says, “Do you think your good works will get you to heaven?” people think, “It’s not always pretty, but yes sir, I really do.” It’s like telling Santa you’ve been good all year to get a present…

 

I once asked a guy why he thought God should let him into heaven. He said, “Look, I may not be perfect, but I’m not Hitler!” We all look great when we compare ourselves with the worst. 

 

We may feel like criminals and crooks sit at the bottom of a mine, while we stand at the top of a mountain by comparison. But, as Handley Moule once said, “we are as little able to touch the stars as they.”

 

Who among us, for example, would volunteer to have every thought that passed through their minds, even from just the last 24 hours, displayed on that screen for everyone else to read?

 

The truth is that most of us have more flaws in ourselves than we would ever admit, but Christmas means we are more loved by God than we could ever dream.

 

We’ve heard this morning personal testimonies showing how life changes dramatically, and for the better, when you let God in. I think some people here know that God has been knocking on their door for a long time. Are you going to finally open that door to him today like Mel and Jack did this year?

 

Ending

 

I’m going to end with a prayer now and, if you’re not accustomed to praying, it’s when you shut out the world so it’s just you and God. Try to forget about the people next to you; this is just about you and your response to what you’ve seen and heard this morning. This is a one-to-one with the God of Christmas, who is as real as the chair you’re sitting on.

 

If you’ve already put your life into God’s hands, now is a time when you can say a “thank you” prayer. Thank you, Jesus for coming to earth in human flesh for me. Thank you for revealing yourself to me, for guiding me in life, for securing my eternity. This is the perfect time to say thank you.

 

Maybe you’ve moved away from God over the years. You may have been close to God before, but stuff happened, things went off track. Maybe somebody hurt you. Someone disappointed you. You had a bad experience, perhaps in a church somewhere, maybe here. And so you drifted away. But that was then. This is now. Today would be the time to leave your spiritual desert and come home. God is waiting. Is this a beautiful moment for you say, “No more drifting. I want to do my future with you, Lord. I’m back.”

 

Some of you have never done anything like this before. But all through this morning, you’ve had the strangest feeling; Is this a prompting from God? Maybe you’re starting to think, it’s time. Today is a turning point. I’m going to get off the road I’m on. I’m going to start all over again – but with God this time. You can give your life a complete reset with a step of faith this morning. 

 

So heavenly Father, in this moment, hundreds of people are thinking about you. Many are thanking you once again for your indescribable gift. Some are reconnecting with you again and coming home. And others are reaching out to you for the first time in their lives. 

 

I pray that right now you will give them a wonderful sense of relief. That this is not make-believe. This is all true! And next year is going to look totally different for me because of the decision I made today. 

 

This is what you are doing this in this room right now, and we thank you for your amazing gift and your awesome power. Amen.

Sermon preached at King's Church Darlington, 22 December 2024.

Thanks to Steven Foster of Saint Aldate's Oxford for the Santa's Grotto conversation, and to Bill Hybels of Willow Creek Chicago for the ending.

He Made Himself Nothing (Philippians 2.3-11)

Introduction

 

We’re taking a short break from our Marathon Matthew series for the rest of this month so that we can focus on the Christmas story.

When I was a boy, I confess that on several occasions I secretly peeled back the Sellotape to peek at some of the presents with my name on under the tree. 

 

It seems that in one respect I’ve never grown up because when I looked at the index of our Advent devotional book Good News of Great Joy, I noticed that the last chapter was entitled “My favourite Christmas text.” Well, I couldn’t resist thumbing ahead to take a quick peep, and I was pleased to see that it is the very passage I was thinking I should preach on today. I’ll read that in a moment, but first…

 

In October 1971, on the 2,500th anniversary of the foundation of the Persian Empire by Cyrus the Great, the Shah of Iran held a celebration to mark the occasion. In fact, “celebration” is something of an understatement. The Guinness Book of World Records describes the event as the most expensive party in history. 

 

Cyrus’ desert tomb was transformed into a sumptuous garden oasis by importing and planting 15,000 trees, 15,000 flowering plants and 50,000 songbirds. Snakes, scorpions, and other undesirable creatures were painstakingly removed.

 

They built an 18-hole golf course, there was a dazzling sound and light show, an impressive military parade all done in hand-stitched period costume, and music performed by world class musicians. 

 

250 brand new Mercedes Benz limousines ferried the VIPs; royalty, and heads of state and government, to and from the site. 65,000 armed troops oversaw the massive security operation.

 

The Shah ordered the construction of a high-class five-star resort called the golden city with luxury apartments and a vast banqueting hall, all with air conditioning and every convenience. 

 

10,000 porcelain plates were commissioned for the banquet decorated in turquoise and gold with the shah’s coat of arms. The catering was masterminded by the revered, Michelin starred restaurant Maxim’s which closed its doors in Paris for two weeks so that all the chefs and waiters could be there. They bought in exotic delicacies and fine wines from all around the world. 

 

If you’re starting to stress about organising your Christmas dinner, just think how Monsieur Blouet felt, coordinating all that!

 

The cost of this three-day extravaganza ran to about $170 million in today’s money. At the same time, half the population in Iranwent to bed hungry every night.

 

And the Shah, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, did all this to honour himself. The whole show was essentially all about him and his ego. He bestowed upon himself the title Šâhân Šâh, meaning king of kings. Other titles he was pleased to accept include “Sovereign of the Order of Splendour,” “Light of the Aryans,” “Knight of the Order of the Lion and the Sun” and, my favourite, the admirably self-deprecating “Pivot of the Universe.”

 

That party was the last word in opulence and indulgence. Arranged to celebrate two and a half millennia of the Persian kingdom, ironically it precipitated its collapse.

 

Because the shah’s show of excessive wealth, while his people starved, only fuelled widespread resentment. Within a few short years, there was a popular uprising, and then a coup. The shah became gravely ill, he was exiled in disgrace, and he died shortly afterwards.

 

I wanted to describe that event to you to contrast it with the passage of scripture I want to set the tone for our preparations for Christmas.

 

It’s in Philippians 2, and I think it contains the most powerful sentence in the Bible on the Christmas miracle. Here is what it says.

 

[Jesus], "being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, or used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness, and being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death - even death on a cross!"

 

Amazing journey

 

Some say the moon landings in the 1960s and 70s are the greatest achievement in human exploration thus far. Anyone who knows me will not be surprised to hear that I agree with that assessment. I find NASA’s Apollo programme endlessly inspiring and impressive. 

 

But James Irwin, who was lunar module pilot on Apollo 15, the eighth astronaut to walk and the first to drive on the surface of the moon, when he returned from his mission said this; “Jesus walking on the earth is far more important than man walking on the moon.” 

 

What a thing to say! In what I just read from Philippians 2, you have in just sixty-one words, the most stunning account of the single most significant journey of all time.

 

This year at King’s we have delighted in welcoming and dedicating four beautiful babies. The arrival of a newborn is an emotional and awe-inspiring event. Whose heart does not melt at the sight of the precious bundle of cuteness that is a little human who has just lately come into the world? 

 

Looking at a fully formed newborn baby, all wrapped up and sleeping soundly, it is hard to get your head round the fact that he or she has grown from an embryo smaller than a grain of sand. 

 

From as early as week three of a pregnancy, over eight months before birth, a baby’s heart starts to beat and pump blood, and the digestive system and the eyes begin to develop. Just a week later, at four weeks’ gestation, limbs appear, and by week 12, measuring by now about five centimetres, all the organs are there, are in position and are functioning correctly. All this of course was true of embryo Jesus as well when the word became flesh.

 

In very nature God…

 

Philippians 2 though, says that Jesus, before he developed in the womb, before he was barely visible to the naked eye, started out as almighty and invincible and omnipotent God. 

 

Before stars and galaxies and black holes (or any physical matter), before gravity and mass and density and energy, before laws of thermodynamics and relativity, before time itself, he existed already, eternally, and gloriously. 

 

Co-equal in every way with the Father and the Holy Spirit, filling heaven with the splendour of his glory, he was already unsurpassable, the superlative of everything worthy of praise.

 

When we speak of the Trinity as one God; Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we can sometimes make the mistake of picturing Jesus as in some sense a step down from God the Father almighty.

 

But Philippians 2 doesn’t let us do that. He was, it says, in very nature, in very essence, God. No less than the Father, no more than the Spirit. As the Nicene Creed says of the Son; “Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, being of one substance, one essence, with the Father; through him all things were made.”

 

Meaning Jesus was eternally there before creation, reigning in unity with the Father and the Holy Spirit. He has never not been. 

 

Colossians 1 says of God the Son, “all things were created through him and for him, he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”

 

In very nature a servant

 

But it says in v6 here that, despite his glory and pre-eminence, he completely let go of status. It says, ‘though he was in very nature God, he did not consider equality with God as something to be - the next word in the original Greek is ambiguous and can mean either ‘grasped’, or ‘used to his own advantage.’ Perhaps Paul had both meanings in mind.

 

Have you ever watched people in the Black Friday promotions or the January sales? Queuing all night, then bursting through the doors as soon as they open, running through the store, grabbing what they can, fist fights if necessary, every man for himself... 

 

But that is the total opposite of Jesus’ attitude and model of life with respect to his divine privileges when he came at Christmas. He didn’t grab and grasp his divine nature when he became one of us. Instead, he became downwardly mobile, it was a riches to rags story. It was the ultimate demotion. 

 

To start out where Jesus started, to then become a barely visible spot, tinier than a pin head, in a peasant girl’s womb, has to be the most dramatic and staggering downgrade ever.

 

We don’t like downgrades. Imagine you book a seat on a plane with extra leg room, and you pay a little bit more for it, but then you learn the airline has overbooked and you have to go in cattle class, three rows further back. How blessed do you feel about that? 

 

Actually, I read once about a man to whom this really happened, and he went ballistic, shouting that he would call his lawyer to sue the airline as soon as the plane landed. 

 

But imagine that’s you, and you are annoyed, but you don’t make a fuss because what can you do? And imagine that when you land, you go to hire a car and are told at the desk that the model you selected online is now unavailable. “I’m sorry, but we only have available cars from the category below?” Are you feeling any better? 

 

Then, after your demotion on the plane and your downgrade at the car rental desk, you arrive at your hotel, looking forward to your room with a view of the sea. But the receptionist informs you that the previous guest trashed the room, so you are apologetically offered an alternative - with a view of the city dump. 

 

Could it be any worse? We hate downgrades. We despise demotions. 

 

But Jesus, though being in very nature God, not only did he willingly lower himself, more than that, he made himself nothing, taking the very nature (same words) of a servant.

 

Mainstream Christianity has always held that Jesus is fully God and fully man. In very nature both.

 

But, as a man, he voluntarily set aside his heavenly majesty. He chose gladly not to draw on his omniscient knowledge or make use of his omnipotent strength. He did not deploy at any point during his life on earth his divine power although at any point he could have done so.

 

And that, incidentally, means that his miracles were not done as the all-powerful Son of God, but as the all-humble Son of Man, filled with the Holy Spirit. Which is why he said we can do the same in his name, and indeed greater things still.

 

He emptied himself of all his glory and he embraced all his life the role of a simple domestic servant.

 

He was born far from home, with none of the usual comforts. His family was poor with minimal prospects. His mother’s delivery room was makeshift and shared with livestock. His cot was a feeding trough, and his first clothes were second hand bandages. He had to flee as a refugee when he was a small child. He had no worldly wealth and little status.

 

He suffered hatred by his people’s leaders, scepticism within his own family, rejection in his own hometown, derision from common criminals, he was spat on and beaten and flogged and made fun of. The full force of imperial Rome’s ruthless killing machine was visited on him.

 

Derek Tidball in The Message of the Cross says it so well: “Jesus was denied liberty, hounded relentlessly, stripped shamefully, flogged mercilessly, mocked ruthlessly, degraded utterly, until nailed excruciatingly and lifted high on cross.”

 

He was obedient to death, says v8, an atoning death for you and me, so we can have peace with God, freedom from guilt, removal of shame, so we can be saved forever from the eternity of weeping and gnashing of teeth our sins deserve. From the highest of heights to the lowest of depths.

 

And that's shocking to hear because all our lives, people are telling us to do the opposite. Climb higher. Earn more. Promote yourself. Flaunt your talent. Achieve. Make your mark. Be influential. 

 

But the point of this passage of scripture is not just to appreciate what Jesus did, but to insist that what he did must be a template for our own way of life. Let’s read it in context:

 

"In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped or used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant…"

 

Making yourself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, we call that “humility.” Making yourself something, taking the very nature of a master, we call that “pride”. 

 

The influential New York church leader Tim Keller, who died last year, once said, “Pride is like the carbon monoxide of sin. It silently and slowly kills you without you even knowing.” 

 

And, I would add, just like carbon monoxide, which is invisible and has no odour, pride is very hard to detect. 

 

As a pastor, people regularly come to me and ask for help with marriage difficulties, or with addiction issues, or about doubts, or about practical problems like unemployment or financial struggles. No one has ever come to see me saying, “Can you help me? I'm really struggling with pride.” Because hardly anyone thinks they're proud. 

 

I’ve been in environments where it is quite obvious to me that I haven’t got an issue with pride because everyone around me is much prouder than I am. So much so that, actually, I feel very pleased with myself that I am easily the humblest person in the room!

 

Pride is being full of yourself. Instead of being full of the Holy Spirit. As I said, pride is hard to detect in ourselves. But it’s easy to spot in other people though; think of someone you know, someone loud, who never stops talking about him- or herself, who never listens, who always knows best, who’s always going on about how brilliant they are. 

 

And there’s snobbish pride as well; think of someone you know with an effortlessly superior persona, who always seems to look down on you. This kind of pride is common in religious people. 

 

This week, I read about an event for Christians at a prestigious London venue. And one of the leaders who was there said, “I felt quite annoyed when a young girl turned up - late - in outrageous clothes and sat at my table, texting throughout the entire mealtime. “But then they showed a film,” he said, “and I suddenly recognised her on the video as one of the recently converted prostitutes from the Christian ministry we had gathered to celebrate.” 

 

He said, “I felt deeply ashamed because I got a glimpse of the proud, holier-than-thou Pharisee that lurks inside me, and which can lurk inside you too. And he finished with a question. “How dare we write anyone off for salvation, when Jesus has shown us that he loves to write them in?”

 

The place where our culture is darkest is the very place where grace shines the brightest. 

 

The glory  

 

And that’s where Philippians 2 leads us next. Having spoken of Christ’s eternal glory and his mind-blowing lowering of himself, it says this: 

 

"Therefore, God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."

 

I began by talking about that lavish party, the epitome of ego and excess and self-exaltation. But human glory always fades and dies. 

 

The Ottoman empire lasted 700 years. The Roman empire stood for 500 years. The British empire, on which the sun never set, lasted about 350 years. The first Ming dynasty in China endured 280 years. 

 

The Soviet Union with its satellite states in eastern Europe survived barely 70 years before it collapsed in failure. Hitler promised a thousand-year Reich only to see it crumble in ignominy after just 12 years. 

 

All these empires and dominions seemed fearsome and invincible in their day. People marvelled at their military might or their cultural impact or their territorial dominance. But these superpowers all came and went. Every last one of them is history. 

 

Human empires come and go. But Christ is still exalted to the very highest place, still adored by millions. His name utterly outshines every other. One day, says v10, every knee will bow in submission before him on the Day of Judgement.

 

Ending

 

Christ’s kingdom, when he returns in glory to judge the living and the dead, will endure eternally. He will reign forever. His dominion is from everlasting to everlasting. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end.

 

On the day of his glorious return, according to Revelation 11, an angel will sound his trumpet, and loud voices in heaven will say: “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he will reign for ever and ever.” 

 

And twenty-four elders, will fall on their faces and worship God, saying: “We give thanks to you, Lord God Almighty, the One who is and who was, because you have taken your great power and have begun to reign.”

 

It’s why at Christmas we sing: 

 

Christ by highest heaven adored
Christ the everlasting Lord…

Mild, he lays His glory by,
Born that man no more may die.

 

And, Come, let us adore him, Christ, the Lord!

Sermon preached at King's Church Darlington, 8 December 2024.

The Problem with Assisted Suicide

 

On 29 November, Members of Parliament will once again discuss the question of assisted suicide. This will be, since 1936, Parliament’s thirteenth attempt to change the law. On each of the twelve occasions so far attempts to legalise assisted suicide have been decisively rejected.

In the Bible, Elijah, in a moment of depression, prayed “I have had enough, take my life” (1 Kings 19.4). Solomon, in his weary search for meaning, reached a point where everything seemed pointless and he “hated life” (Ecclesiastes 2.17). And Jonah got so ticked off with God that he ranted “It would be better for me to die than to live” (Jonah 4.8). 

I would think, in our very worst moments, if we’re honest, many of us may have wondered about suicide, but most of us dismiss the idea very quickly. Knowing we are at the end of life, and feeling that the end will be protracted and undignified, it must be tempting to entertain the thought a bit longer.

But as a Christian who believes in the sanctity of human life, made in God’s image, from the womb to the deathbed, and being married to a hospice nurse, it won’t surprise you to read that legalising assisted suicide is a move I think our legislators should continue to resist.

My thoughts on all this were further stimulated recently by a friend of ours called Julie who lives in Derbyshire, and who has been a doctor for four decades. I share below in italics with her permission a slightly edited version of a letter she sent to her MP last week, urging her to vote against the proposed change to the law.

Thank you for your willingness to serve us in Parliament. I am one of your constituents and am also a recently retired GP. I am writing to urge you to please vote against Kim Leadbeater’s Assisted Suicide bill on Friday 29 November.

I see a parallel between those pushing for the legalisation of assisted suicide and those who support the right to bear arms in the USA. The gun lobby justifies its position by viewing the world as being divided into goodies and baddies. (They of course are the goodies and they have a right to protect themselves against the baddies).

But the likelihood of using your legally held handgun in the USA to commit suicide, or to kill a loved one in an alcohol fuelled argument, or for a family member to die by accidental discharge, are massively higher than the likelihood that you will just happen to be holding your gun when you need to deter a stranger who is determined to harm you. So the reasons given for the right to bear arms, based on a rare possibility, ignore the facts that guns cause more harm than good to those who own them. The reason for this is that the world is not divided into goodies and baddies. We all have a dark side. And in my darkest moments it would really not have been a good idea, for my own sake or for the sake of others, for me to own a gun.

Likewise with assisted suicide. The rare possibility is that somebody may face an unpleasant end without good symptom control. That is very unusual, thanks to our excellent palliative care network, but it does happen. There are some awful ways to die, and I have seen them.

But the reality is that the right to die would rapidly creep towards a duty to die. The boundaries would move, and we have our heads in sand if we say that they would not. They have moved everywhere else and they would move here.

Furthermore, legalising assisted suicide would undermine the drive to reduce all other forms of suicide and distract from the need to make the best palliative care available to all who need it.

I spent 40 years training and working as a frontline healthcare worker for the NHS. We see the whole spectrum of human nature and experience, because everybody gets sick and everybody dies. I have seen both the worst and the best in human nature. And the very finest and most noble thing it has been my privilege to witness in human nature is people’s capacity to love and support one another in their suffering.

As well as my professional experience, I also have significant personal experience of caring for loved ones who are vulnerable because of substance misuse, enduring mental health problems, dementia, old age, physical frailty and progressive and incurable disease. The law is a blunt instrument. End of life care is no place for blunt instruments. We need the law to protect us, not to give us a gun.

Julie says it so well.

While thousands die peacefully and naturally with their pain under control in the UK every year, between 40 and 50 people travel abroad annually to put an end to their own lives in countries where assisted suicide is legal. If this bill is passed, I have no doubt that the numbers of those opting to end their lives, perhaps because they ‘don’t want to be a burden’, would sharply increase. 

Solomon, Elijah and Jonah all had a change of heart and decided in the end to choose life. How many more of our fellow countrymen and women would choose death if there were an easy route to end it all when they were at their lowest ebb?

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10.10).

First published on King's Church Darlington website blog.

Where's the Fruit? (Matthew 21.12-22)

 

Introduction

 

If you have ever visited the Sydney Opera House, or the Louvre in Paris, or the Empire State Building in New York, or the Taj Mahal in Agra, or the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, or the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, I have no doubt that you will have been impressed by what you witnessed. These are foremost among the world’s most majestic buildings, and they leave their mark on you for their scale, for their grandeur and their beauty.

 

The temple in Jerusalem, at the time of Christ, was a similarly imposing, impressive, iconic structure. It was in that league. It had a huge wow factor. Built around 530 BC, it was one of the grandest buildings in the world of that day, if not the grandest. It was breathtaking to behold. And it was the historic, beating heart of Israel's life and religious identity. 

 

When Herod the Great redeveloped and expanded it starting in about 20 BC, it became the largest building complex in the ancient world, bar none. People marvelled at it. Its total surface area was about 37 acres, into which you can fit 21 football pitches. The perimeter of the temple contained a covered portico, supported by huge columns 10.5 metres high, and so thick that it took three men joining hands to encircle one of them. And its beauty, oh my! The finest marble, polished ivory, sections overlaid with gold, sumptuous fixtures and fittings, no expense was spared.

 

The temple consisted of five separate zones; the first and easily the largest was called the Court of the Gentiles; then beyond that, the Court of the Women or Outer Court; then beyond that the Inner Court; then finally, accessible to only a few, a magnificent roofed structure called the Holy Place, separated from the mysterious Holy of Holies behind it by a curtain 18 metres high, 9 metres wide and 10 centimetres thick. 

 

But that first space, the Court of the Gentiles, was set aside for anyone, anyone, to pray and to seek God, and to approach him for the forgiveness of sins. That huge space symbolised the reality that the God of Israel was the God who so loves the whole world. 

 

It was a place where the excluded were included; Jerusalem’s sick and poor and needy and forgotten would hang out there, hundreds of them every day, hoping for a some pity and maybe a bit of spare change from passing pilgrims. 

 

And it is right here, in this sprawling Court of the Gentiles, that the events of Matthew 21.12-17 take place. 

 

Let’s read what it says:

 

Jesus entered the Temple and began to drive out all the people buying and selling animals for sacrifice. He knocked over the tables of the money changers and the chairs of those selling doves. He said to them, “The Scriptures declare, ‘My Temple will be called a house of prayer,’ but you have turned it into a den of thieves!” 

The blind and the lame came to him in the Temple, and he healed them. The leading priests and the teachers of religious law saw these wonderful miracles and heard even the children in the Temple shouting, “Praise God for the Son of David.”

But the leaders were indignant. They asked Jesus, “Do you hear what these children are saying?”

“Yes,” Jesus replied. “Haven’t you ever read the Scriptures? For they say, ‘You have taught children and infants to give you praise.’” Then he returned to Bethany, where he stayed overnight.

 

Prayer…

 

Cleansing the temple

 

So Jesus enters this vast holy site, built for the glory of God, looks around and what does he see? Is it pilgrims coming before the Lord in reverence and prayer? Is it fear and trembling at the beauty of God’s majesty? Is it kneeling and bowing down and raised hands bringing a holy offering of praise? Is it worshippers being still before the Lord as they take in the public reading of scripture? Or incense rising with prayers of intercession?

 

None of that. Instead, his senses are assaulted by the sights, sounds and smells of a noisy and vulgar marketplace, hundreds of animals and caged birds, their excrement making the place smell like a farmyard. Bleating. Haggling. Chit chat. Flapping wings. Clinking coins. How is anyone supposed to pray in this irreverent environment? Everything you see and hear is wholly inappropriate and out of place. 

 

Worse still, Jesus sees money changers charging excessive exchange rates for the special temple currency required to purchase these sacrificial animals and birds. It cost half a day’s wage just to switch to the authorised currency. 

Jesus sees well-heeled livestock merchants profiteering from exorbitant prices. You can, in theory, bring your own lamb or bird, but some corrupt bureaucrat will fail its inspection at the gate, so you have to buy an officially approved one from a certified vendor. It is organised commercial exploitation. It’s an unholy racket on an industrial scale. And this in 30AD is what Israel’s religion has descended to.

 

So Jesus, grieved in his soul, starts to drive out those who are buying and selling. He overturns the tables of the money changers; coins and keys and account books are flying everywhere. 

 

And he is not finished yet. He pulls over the benches of those selling caged birds. He stops people carrying their merchandise around like it was some sort of religious megastore. 

 

You couldn’t call it a disturbance of the peace, because there’s no peace to disturb. But there is uproar. Jesus’ actions are incendiary and they are intended to be so. 

 

John’s Gospel tells us that Jesus did something strikingly similar to this towards the beginning of his ministry as well. When it comes to riotous disruption and vandalism in this iconic religious setting, Jesus has previous. 

 

But there’s a notable difference between what John and Matthew describe. In John chapter 2, Jesus says, “Stop turning my Father’s house into a market!” But here, it’s worse. In three years, Jesus has downgraded the temple personnel from mere market traders to operators of an organised scam.

 

“It is written,” he says in v13, with the eyes of everyone fixed on him, “my house shall be called a house of prayer, but you are making it a den of robbers.” 

 

Let me help you understand that phrase in its context. On the winding road from Jericho up to Jerusalem, a road that many of the pilgrims would have trod, including Jesus and his travelling party, there are hidden caves by the roadside. You might remember the parable of the Good Samaritan which is set on that same road. Bandits would hide there in gangs waiting to spring out and mug you. This is what Jesus means by “den of robbers.” He means organised crime. 

 

Jesus is saying that these money changers and temple salesmen are actually in cahoots with each other plotting to spring nasty surprises on unsuspecting pilgrims by ripping them off with inflated prices and hidden fees.

 

So Jesus is upset not just because this sacred space has been trivialized and repurposed as a cacophonous livestock market. But also because it is now riddled with crooks fleecing worshippers with extortionate hidden costs. It is nowhere near fulfilling its original purpose as a place of prayer. It has not only lost its way, it has lost its soul.

 

And there is no greater proof of that being the case than what we read in v14-15. In a moment of grace and faith, Jesus brings light into the darkened world of blind beggars, and he lifts the crippled to their feet, and children begin to spontaneously and joyfully shout and sing praise to God. The power of the Holy Spirit is present… 

 

…And the chief priests and teachers of the law see these beautiful, life changing signs and wonders and they hate it. It should solicit awe and admiration from them but because of their hard, religious hearts, v15 says the opposite; they are indignant, it says.

 

These are the men who should have put a stop to this temple abomination years ago, but they just encourage it. These are the men who should be leading the people in praise and worship when God’s healing power is released, not complaining about it and shutting it down. This scene perfectly demonstrates their catastrophic failure of leadership.

 

Stephen, the first Christian martyr, in Acts 7, sums it up perfectly by telling these same men, “You always resist the Holy Spirit!” Sadly, there are plenty of clergy in our day who are just as useless as these chief priests. The healing power of God, uninhibited and joyful children, new songs, spontaneous worship in God’s house… they can’t stand it.

 

And listen, all of us who are involved in whatever sphere of Christian leadership; life group leaders, children’s and youth leaders, worship leaders, pastoral ministers, elders, trustees, Alpha team, ministry leaders of all sorts… if we’re going to resist anything, let it be stagnant, religious, dead works and not the living water of the Holy Spirit. It’s the prayer of my heart; “Lord, don’t let my heart grow cold, set my soul on fire with love for you and for what you want to do.”

 

And not just leaders, all of us. Do you need to reset this morning? Has your heart begun to grow just a little bit uncomfortable and resistant to any new thing that God wants to do, especially if it ruffles feathers and takes you out of your comfortable routine?

 

In v17, Matthew just says, “and [Jesus] left them and went out of the city.” Jesus has had quite enough dead religion for one day. 

 

But the next day, Jesus heads back into Jerusalem again and he works a miracle that is totally unlike every other we have so far seen in Matthew's Gospel. 

 

Let’s read on, starting at v18:

 

In the morning, as Jesus was returning to Jerusalem, he was hungry, and he noticed a fig tree beside the road. He went over to see if there were any figs, but there were only leaves. Then he said to it, “May you never bear fruit again!” 

And immediately the fig tree withered up. The disciples were amazed when they saw this and asked, “How did the fig tree wither so quickly?”

Then Jesus told them, “I tell you the truth, if you have faith and don’t doubt, you can do things like this and much more. You can even say to this mountain, ‘May you be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ and it will happen. You can pray for anything, and if you have faith, you will receive it.”

 

Cursing the fig tree

 

Every miracle we have encountered so far in Matthew’s Gospel brings healing from sickness, or relief from oppression, or protection from harm (like the calming of the storm), or abundance of provision (like the miraculous catch and the feeding of the 5,000). 

 

But this one, in stark contrast, appears to bring gratuitous environmental damage and death. It’s the strangest story. This one has gardeners and ecologists and conservationists united in their disapproval.  

 

Jesus is hungry, and seeing by the road a fig tree in leaf, he approaches it, hoping to find figs. But though it is leafy in appearance, giving the impression of fruitfulness, Matthew tells us in v19 that when Jesus inspects it, he finds nothing except leaves. So he then speaks to the tree, saying, “May you never bear fruit again!”

 

You may well wonder, why are the conduct and attitude of Jesus in these two passages so unlike every previous description of him thus far in our long series in the Gospel of Matthew? First, the angry temple outburst, and now this. It’s bordering on antisocial behaviour. 

 

Jesus curses a fig tree because it is unable in this moment to supply him with a mid-morning snack. This appears sullen, even petulant behaviour. Isn’t it a bit off, we may ask, to make a tree wither to its roots and die simply because it cannot at this time satisfy your hunger?

 

And it seems to fly in the face of everything we know about Jesus' character from elsewhere in the Gospels. It even appears to bring into question his description of himself in chapter 11 as “humble and gentle at heart.” What are we to make of it?

 

It will be no surprise to most of you that I am no expert in horticulture. If you are looking for assistance to correctly identify any species of plant; moss, shrub, flower, bush or tree, I am absolutely not your go-to guy. Accordingly, my knowledge of fig trees is about as extensive as my acquaintance with hair products. But I do know this; trees can be emblematic of nations or cultures. We talk for example of English oak, Scots pine, Californian redwood and cedars of Lebanon. 

 

And in just the same way, the fig tree was a symbol of Israel in the Old Testament. Several prophets at different times spoke of the barren fig tree as a picture of God withholding his blessing from the nation. 

 

Jeremiah, for example, prophesied God’s imminent judgement upon Jerusalem around 600 BC saying, “There will be no figs on the tree, and their leaves will wither.” He was saying in effect that God will one day come looking for fruit from you and if he finds nothing but leaves you will wilt and shrivel and die.

 

With the withering of this tree, Jesus is giving us an unforgettable visual aid for what just happened the previous day in the temple.

 

This fig tree, you see, just like the temple, looks promising from a distance. But a closer examination of both leads only to frustration and disappointment. The fig tree is unfruitful and barren; it’s all leaves and no fruit. Just as the temple is ungodly and hollow; it’s all show and no substance. The one is a visual commentary on the other.

 

This is, you may be interested to know, the last miracle Jesus ever does in Matthew’s Gospel. That is significant. No one will eat from that tree ever again. It’s over. And Jesus is saying here, just days before the cross, that God is done with the temple. His verdict on useless religion is final. 

 

40 years later, in 70 AD, this magnificent temple will be razed to the ground, never to be rebuilt, and all that remains of it today is a small section we call the Wailing Wall. 

 

Are you troubled about the death of this tree? Does it disturb you a bit that Jesus isn't appropriately concerned about the environment? Is this miracle offensive to you in any way? Then I invite you to consider the alternative view that Jesus actually honoured this fig tree, making it spiritually one of the most fruitful trees that ever grew.

This a tree from which many, over centuries, have learned something about themselves, about their hard heart, about their lives being all show and no fruit, about God’s displeasure with useless religion. This tree has led thousands of sinners to repent and turn back to the living God. 

 

In Revelation 2 and 3, Jesus walks among churches, looking for fruit. He might well find busyness and activity and projects and meetings and a nice building, but that is not at the heart of what he is looking for. 

 

He is looking for faith. He is looking for prayer. He is looking for worship and true worshippers. He is looking for love. 

 

Michael Green, in his commentary, says this; “God is no more bound to Christian churches with a long pedigree than he was to Israel with an even longer one. If there is no fruit (in prayerfulness, in evangelism, in love and ministry to the community), God will judge such churches and they will die.” 

 

Phil Moore says the same thing another way; “Looking back on history,” he says, “it is easy to see that those congregations that have remained obedient to God’s word have tended to grow and expand while those that show… selective commitment to scripture… have tended to be cursed with a famine of converts, dwindling congregations and eventually closure.” 

 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; there is no example anywhere in the Bible of Satan closing churches. He has no authority to do so. Jesus is building his church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail, shall not stand, against her advance. Only Jesus closes churches, and if a church rebels against his word it is only a matter of time before he will.

 

God deliver us from exchanging the eternal truth of his word for a lie. The day we do is the day we set King’s Church Darlington on a path of relentless decline into irrelevance.

 

Ending

 

As I end, I want to just underline again that this withered tree, drooping and limp - just picture it - is a vivid image of God’s settled decision to bring the temple to an end. God’s intention was that this magnificent structure should be a bridge between heaven and earth. A place where sinners find forgiveness. Now, there is only one bridge between heaven and earth, and it’s his incomparably more magnificent Son, Jesus. He is the new temple.

 

But this passage also supplies us with an undeniable proof of the power and authority of Jesus' words.

 

He speaks and it comes to pass. He says, “let there be light” and stars and galaxies burst into life for all things, the Bible says, were created by him and for him. He gives the word and a centurion’s servant is instantly healed. He calls out, “Lazarus, come forth” and a man, four days dead, emerges from his tomb breathing and walking. He says, “may no one ever eat your fruit again” and a fruitless fig tree, nothing but leaves, withers to its roots.

 

We sometimes sing, “These are the days of Elijah, declaring the word of the Lord.” 

 

So I say, in the name of Jesus, you despairing ones, lift your heads for the Lord, the mighty one, is with you. 

You who are plagued by doubts, open your heart and receive a gift of faith, the assurance of things hoped for. 

You sick, be healed today; Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever and he has authority over every disease and sickness. 

You broken-hearted, listen; there is a new day; the old has gone, the new has come, today is a day of hope and renewal for you. 

 

Let’s stand to pray...

Sermon preached at King's Church Darlington, 3 November 2024.