Washing feet

On the night before the cross, in an upper room crowded with tired, dusty disciples, Jesus does something unthinkable. He gets up from the meal, takes off His outer garment, ties a servant’s towel around His waist, and starts washing feet.

John slows the camera right down.
Every movement is completely intentional.
Every single gesture is a beautiful sermon.
And every step quietly whispers the meaning of Advent.

This morning, we watch the King of Glory reenact the Christmas story with a basin and a towel.

“Jesus rose from supper” revealing the God that moved toward us

Jesus was reclining at the table—the position of comfort, of honour, and of fellowship. Then He stood up. It is that movement that changes everything.

At Christmas, God also “rose.”

He stepped down into our world—into the cold, into the chaos, into the brokenness.

God always moves toward us before we move toward Him.

Imagine a parent hearing a child crying in the middle of the night. The parent does not sit there waiting for the child to solve their own problem.

No - Love moves. Love gets up.

That is Advent—God getting up from heaven's table to enter our dark room.

Heartbeat of advent – God is with you… God is with you…

“He laid aside His garments and wrapped a towel around his waist — reminding us that the King set aside His glory to serve us

Jesus takes off His outer robe—the symbol of status.

At Christmas, the Son of God laid aside the visible splendour of heaven.
He traded the adoration of angels for the cries of a newborn.
He traded the throne for a feeding trough.

This is not a loss of deity but a choice of humility.

Jesus’ first act of love was not a miracle—it was surrender.
He let go of glory so we could grasp grace.

If you have ever seen a firefighter shed his own safety to pull someone from danger, you glimpse a tiny understanding of this picture.

Strength lays itself down so the weak may live.
Jesus did this first at Bethlehem.

But he did more…

“He took a towel and girded Himself” — Reminding us that God dressed like a servant

In that culture, only the lowest household slave wore the towel.

This is the heart of Christmas:
The infinite God wraps Himself in finite flesh.
The Creator becomes one of the created.
The King wears the clothes of a servant.

The manger was God’s first towel.
It told the truth about who Jesus came to be—Servant, Saviour, Shepherd.

Consider a CEO spending a day undercover with the lowest paid staff—the secret billionaire not for a TV show, but to understand, to love, to lift. Now magnify that downward movement a thousand times. Christ did not pretend to be a servant—He became one.

For us…

At Christmas,
the Son of God laid aside
the visible splendour of heaven—
not His glory,
but the shining display of it.

He stepped out of endless light
into lamplight and shadow,
from the thunder of angel-song
to the thin cry of a newborn child.

He traded the worship of seraphim
for the rough hands of a carpenter,
the warmth of a throne
for the cold wood of a feeding trough.

The One who flung stars into space
rested beneath them.
The Word that spoke all things into being
learned to speak in syllables.

This was no loss of deity,
no weakening of divine power.
It was strength restrained,
majesty veiled,
love choosing the long way down.

He did not come down by force,
but by faithfulness.
Not by demand,
but by surrender.

The King arrived quietly,
wrapped not in royal robes
but in humility,
not crowned with gold
but clothed in flesh.

He came not to impress the world,
but to redeem it.
Not to be admired from a distance,
but to be held,
to be touched,
to be known.

And this is good news for us.

Because the God who comes so near
is not afraid of our pain,
our questions,
our weariness,
or our tears.

He enters our nights,
our waiting,
our broken places—
not to stand above them,
but to stand with us in them.

And because He is with us,
there is peace
that settles anxious hearts,
hope
that holds us through the dark,
joy
that rises even in small beginnings,
and love
that will not let us go.

This is the mystery of Christmas:
the Almighty chooses lowliness,
the Holy One chooses nearness,
and heaven’s greatest glory
is revealed
in the humility of love.

Heartbeat of Advent – God is with us… God is with us…

 

“He poured water into a basin and washed the disciples’ feet— a reminded that He came prepared to cleanse the undeserving.

 

Jesus does not ask someone else to bring water.
He provides it Himself.
He prepares every step.

This movement foreshadows His mission:
He came to cleanse.
He came to forgive.
He came to make all things new.

The water in the basin points to the blood He would pour out on the cross.

Jesus did not come to be admired—He came to save.

Like a doctor who shows up already carrying the medicine, Jesus came with everything humanity needed.

Bethlehem the beginning of his healing mission.

But look who he came to redeem.

He washes Peter—who would deny Him.
He washes Judas—who would betray Him.
He washes the ten—who would abandon Him.

Christ’s birth is not God rewarding the faithful.
Christ’s birth is God rescuing the broken.

Jesus did not come because we were lovable.
He came because He is love.

Heartbeat of advent – God is with you – God is with you…

 

Finally…

 

“He wiped them with the towel” — reminding us that He bears our uncleanness Himself

The towel wrapped around Him becomes dirty.
He absorbs their filth.

This is the deepest Christmas truth:
The child wrapped in swaddling clothes will one day be wrapped in our sin and brokenness.
He takes what is ours so He can give us what is His.

Advent always points to Calvary.

Picture a parent wiping a child’s muddy face with their own clean shirt. The dirt transfers. The mess is absorbed.

That is what Jesus does on the cross—He becomes what we were so we can become what He is.

What burden, shame, or guilt do you need to let Jesus carry for you this season?

Heartbeat of Advent..., God is with you… God is with you…

Heartbeat of the gospel – you are forgiven… forgiven…

The manger points to the towel.
The cradle foreshadows the cross.
And the King who was born came not to be served but to serve—and to save.

This Advent, may we remember:
Our King kneels.
Our God serves.
Our Savior stoops to lift us up.

And remember the heartbeat of advent – God is with you… God is with you… God is with you.

And remember the heartbeat of the Gospel – forgiven… forgiven…

And may you respond to the call to join him in making all things new…  all things new…

As we imitate the servant king… 

In Jesus name… Amen.

Have a great Christmas!

May the God who laid aside heaven’s splendour
and chose the humility of a manger
go with you into every place you will walk this week.

May Christ, who came not in power but in love,
be near to you in your joy and in your sorrow,
steady in your waiting,
gentle in your weakness,
faithful in whatever you face.

And because God is with you,
may His peace guard your heart,
His hope light your way,
His joy strengthen your spirit,
and His love shape the way you live and serve.

Go in the grace of the Servant-King—
the One who came down for us
and now walks with us always.
Amen.

 

In the meantime

 

I really enjoyed this year’s series of I am a celebrity get me out of here. Full of lovely people and great conversations. For those of you who do not watch it, the premise is that a group of celebrities are thrown into the Australian jungle for three weeks with just small rations of rice and beans to eat. The celebs then do awful trials to win food for camp. The trials are certainly awful. You would not volunteer… except for perhaps one. The cyclone trial happens on the penultimate evening when the camp is down to four celebrities. They face a steep hill, covered in plastic, with four stars engraved on the plastic. The premise is to climb the hill and place your own star on the star on the hill and remain there until the end of the task. Easy! Except, think slip and slide… fire hoses spraying water, obstacles being thrown – all to knock the celebrities of their feet and back to the bottom of the hill.

I think the cyclone trial is a metaphor for life. My role is a missional listener, and the things I hear most at the moment are:  ‘I am at max,’ ‘I am overwhelmed,’ ‘I am exhausted’, ‘I am not coping’.   I also hear about possible futures where life will be more balanced with comments like; ‘when I am through this period of time life will be easier, but in the meantime I will just struggle on’, or, ‘when I have changed job’, ‘when the baby is sleeping through the night’, ‘when I am out of debt’, ‘when the kids are older’, ‘I will be able to live a balanced life, but in the meantime, I will just struggle on’.   Like the celebrities, we look up and see the lives we want, but we are constantly blown of course as the things of the world are thrown at us. We see what life could be but are unable to get there.

Life does not happen in the imaginary future; life happens in the meantime.

Once again…

Life does not happen in the imaginary future; life happens in the meantime.

The Christmas story is full of hope. Full of hope for tomorrow. But the Christmas story is also full of hope for today. People’s lives were turned around at the very mention of Jesus. Joy came to people whilst Mary carried Jesus in her womb. Transformation came when people met him as a baby. And of course, that baby became a man – and that man would lead people to life. After his death and resurrection, he has been transforming lives for centuries, building His church. And even today we can know the peace, joy, love, and hope that Jesus promises. But… that hope is not to magically take us from our present chaotic lives to an imaginary future. The hope is, God can transform our meantime. The shepherds were called to meet the baby Jesus. They had their lives turned around; they responded to the angels call to ‘shout about it to everyone.’   But as  the gospel account continues it simply says that after they met Jesus, they went back to their everyday lives, their meantime – the caring of their animals. This time they went back having encountered the very presence of God. They returned with the knowledge of ultimate love. This time they went understanding the story; that God is making all things new, and they (and we) are called to join in the beautiful story.

The Christmas miracle is that in the meantime, as we traverse the brokenness of our world – if we dare receive the gift of Jesus, what we receive is not a miracle that might happen in the future when all is well but a miracle right here and right now – transforming the meantime.  Because…

Life does not happen in the imaginary future; life happens in the meantime.

Strictly come dancing has been incredible this year. Simply joyful. Chris, the blind winner, utterly extraordinary. For me, like many, the highlight was the extraordinary choreography to his dance to never walk alone. Chris, completely vulnerable and struggling, all alone, tentatively stepping forward… but then suddenly, his partner Diane meets him, and they spin in what feels like endless beauty. The joy this Christmas is that you do not have to traverse the meantime alone, but with God present with you, making everyday life in all its fullness. So… may you receive the greatest gift, the presence of God, in your meantime - transforming it from not coping, overwhelmed to peace, joy, hope and love.

 

Happy Christmas.

The Swing - Spirituality in liminality

 

The Swing – spirituality during liminal seasons

Picture with me for a moment a swing.  Notice the further back it goes, the further forward it travels.  It is the same with spirituality, the further back we go into intimacy with God, the more able we are at joining His mission, the reconciliation of all things.  The swing.  We need to live the swing if we are going to survive liminal seasons.  In fact we need to live the swing for any season, if we are serious about God’s mission.  One of the requirements when I took on the role of missional listener was to retreat monthly, to find that place of stillness, to meet with God – yet if I am honest – I have largely failed in this task.  As I interview other pioneers and church leaders about their spiritual habits, they also seem to fail at living the swing.  The average minister prays for two minutes a day.  Why is this?  I wonder if it is due to a misunderstanding of what intimacy of God is about?  We seem to equate spirituality with Elijah, collapsed by a broom tree, begging God to take his life.  But if we saw retreat as more than that, and see Elijah in the cave, hearing God in the stillness and receiving not only healing from the broom tree but also the call to work with Elisha for the kingdom of God.  The swing – further back into intimacy, the more able to join in the threefold mission of love of self, neighbour and of God.  History tends to show its need…

By the end of the fourth century, church and society had become one.  General toleration of Christianity, the numbers swelled by Constantine making it the faith of the empire, and a seemingly lowering of the standards expected of believers, led to some believing that deep communion with God unattainable in existing churches.   The first monks were individuals who retreated to the desert in Syria and Egypt.  The desert Christians understood the church as an ‘alien community no longer caught up in the anxious, self-interested preservation of the world-as-it-is’.[1] Retreat was not about finding an uninterrupted quiet time but a call to live out the double commandment to love God and neighbour. Athanasius tells the story of Antony whom he portrays as the first monk.[2]  Antony visited a church whilst reflecting on how the apostles left all to follow their Lord, there he heard Jesus words to the rich man.   This encouraged him to sell all his possessions and depart for the tombs where he would retreat in solitude.  Antony practiced solitude for nearly twenty years before going on to heal many who were ill, cast out evil spirits, speak comfort to the sorrowful, reconcile arguments and exhort all to remember God’s love shown in Jesus Christ. Antony encouraged many to let go of the desire of possessions and to gain those everlasting gifts of ‘prudence, justice, temperance, courage, understanding, love, kindness to the poor, faith in Christ, freedom from wrath and hospitality’. Basil the great, bishop and an ascetic, built on this learning and helped future monasteries become more outward looking by providing medical care for the sick, relief for the poor and education.  Rowen Williams writes;

what is learned in the desert is clearly not some individual technique for communing with the divine, but the business of becoming a means of reconciliation and healing for the neighbour.  You ‘flee’ to the desert not to escape neighbours but to grasp more fully what the neighbour is… (and how we join in) connecting them with God.[3]

 

We can see the swing outlived through Benedictine monasteries and in Celtic spirituality, but for our purposes let’s look at Ignatian spirituality.   Ignatius’ career as a soldier was cut short with a leg wound in 1521, reading about the lives of Christ and the saints he resolved to become Christ’s soldier. He waited on God to know what he should do, taking a year to pray and then to go onto study.[4]  Having written his book entitled The Spiritual Exercises, he gathered a small group of young men, the Jesuits were founded, their purpose to propagate the faith by every means at their disposal.   The growth of the order was rapid as their work centred on three main tasks of education, counteracting the protestants and missionary enlargement to new parts of the world.  Dulles lists ten shining features of the Jesuits.[5]  One of which he quotes Jerome Nadal, who said of Jesuit practice,

 

seeking a perfection in prayer and spiritual exercises in order to help our neighbour, and by means of that help of neighbour acquiring yet more perfection in prayer, in order to help our neighbour even more.

 

Bonhoeffer proclaimed that,

the renewal of the church will come about through a new type of monasticism which only has in common with the old an uncompromising allegiance to the sermon on the mount.[6]

 

Heuertz and Prince attempt to live out this new type of monasticism in San Francisco today.[7]  They describe this as a life compelled by intimacy with Jesus, engaging neighbourhoods and neighbours with zeal and enthusiasm and looking for transformation that comes when Christ’s kingdom is present.  They conclude that they have nothing to offer without the riches delved in contemplation.  Roy and Joshua Searle continue our thread by stating, that the call to be missional is a call to live in the reality of the presence of the kingdom of God that is now at hand, adopting practices and spiritual discipline, for the benefit and the transformation of this world.[8] 

We can see a thread throughout the centuries of the practice of retreat being about love of God and love of neighbour.  The image is that of a swing.  The further we go into God’s intimacy experienced through spiritual disciplines the further we can understand who our neighbour is and how we can join God in the transformation of all things. 

Perhaps, as we live out the swing, we can say with Jesus, ‘I only do that I see my Father doing’.

If we are serious about remaining in liminal space and if we are serious about Gods mission – let us do what the Saints of old have always done – and live the swing.  The further back into intimacy with God, the more able we are to join in the reconciliation of all things.

[1] Haeurwas and Willimon. (1992). p. 93. Resident Aliens  Nashville: Abingdon Press.

[2] Lane. (2004). p. 59.  The Lion Christian collection. Oxford: Lion Hudson. 

[3] Williams. (2003). p. 38.  Silence and Honey Cakes: The wisdom of the desert. Oxford: Lion    books.

[4] Linder. (1990). p. 418. The Catholic Reformation in Dowley, Dr T., Briggs, J.H.Y., Lindner, R and  

Wright, D.F. (eds). The History of Christianity. Oxford: Lion Hudson

[5] Dulles. (200). p. 22.  What distinguishes the Jesuits? In America 1/15/2007, Vol. 196

Issue 2

[6] Searle and Searle. (2013). Monastic practices and the missio Dei: Towards a socially

transformative understanding of missional practice from the perspective of the

Northumberland community. Journal of missional practice

[7] Heuertz and Prince. (2010). pp. 104-128. Devotional. In Bessenecker, S.A. (Editor). (2010). Living

mission: The vision and voices of new friars. Downers Grove: Intervarsity Press

[8] Searle and Searle. (2013).

What might God do in the liminal?

 

2016 is what has become jokingly known as the year of no baptisms!  Of course there were many across the globe but for the first time in my ministry there was no baptisms in the church I served.  Melt down. I wrote a list of names I had baptised over the previous 8 years – 50 odd – and as I wrote each name, I realised that only one was conversion growth.  All the others were people with some sort of church background, be it children of the church, transfer from other Christian background or people who had come back to Jesus in later life.  One conversion in 8 years – blood, sweat and tears.  One! I went on a journey with the church, how might we become a church that sees third or fourth generation non-Christian come to faith and become central to our life together.  I concluded; it was almost impossible.  During this time God began to call me into missional listening. A calling, born from Paul in Athens, to listen to the community so intently that when the invitation comes to share the Gospel, I could do so from a deep place of understanding.  After many miracles this calling became an actual thing and my old identity as a Baptist minister in a traditional church had died.   As I began to listen for what might be next in my ministry, what might God have planned with the listening project – I had entered unknowingly into a liminal season, where an old identity had died but a new one was yet to be born.  A liminal space.

My favourite illustration of liminality comes from Coldplay (via Steve Aisthorpe). Liminal space is the space between the two trapezes. You have let go of one and are yet to grab the second.  Liminal space. And it is not just I that find myself there, but also many in the Western church.  Alan Donaldson spoke prophetically at Baptist Assembly last year stating ‘something has died, but something has not yet been born’, liminal space. 

Liminal space is frightening. Loss of identity is uncomfortable. Basic questions no longer have easy answers – everything feels deconstructed.  Funding can be fragile – with no exciting project to sale.  Motivation weakens to lack of end goal. Attendance is few due to people not knowing what they are signing up for. False prophets with big dreams promise huge rewards and carry people away.  It is scary in liminal seasons.

And this fear can lead us in two different ways. We can follow the Israelites in their liminality.  They have died from their old lives as slaves but not yet to reach the promised land – a time of liminal wandering, learning to trust God.  As they spend time in liminality, they cry out for their old identities in Egypt – there they knew who they were, knew things would be provided, lets go back to the dead – at least we knew who were and what we were doing.   Or we could join the disciples in the upstairs room.  They have been instructed by Jesus to not do anything, to have a time of liminality where all they do is pray – as Jesus left them for heaven – to wait until the Holy Spirit comes and compels them into their new identities.  But they can’t just wait and pray, they need to something new – lets replace Judas, call lots, call Mateus, and lets just say we do not here about Mateus again in scripture! 

We want to run back or begin the new.  I constantly want to run back to my church role, where I knew how my week worked, knew I had money and accommodation, a team to work with.  I constantly want to run forward and plant a church, or exciting mission project.  But the call is to remain in the liminal.  Because it is in the liminal that God transforms and it is out of the liminal the new is born.  In liminal space, Joseph loses his identity as favourite son and becomes redeemer of his people.  Ruth loses her identity as a Moabite and becomes part of the genealogy of Jesus.  Paul, blinded, loses his role as chief church persecutor and becomes great church planter.   It is in the liminal we are transformed and the new is then born for us. 

So how do we stay in the liminal if it is so scary and our natural instinct is to run back or forward.  Four thoughts:

1). Stillness. When you are flying from one trapeze to the other the posture needed is of absolute stillness – so that you are easy to catch.  The same is true with God. Stillness. Living life like a Swing, the further back into intimacy with God the more able to join in the mission of God. 

2). DNA. Coldplay as well as talking about trapezes mention that we are a comma not a full stop.  As we spend time looking at who we are as community, celebrating all God has done, the future is born with that same DNA but in new creative ways. 

3). Communities of discernment. The most important learning as we missionally listen was to learn to come to God with empty hands rather than full hands.  Too often we come with our ideas and plans and ask God to bless them.  Liminal space is admitting we do not have a clue what we are doing and together as community coming with empty hands asking God to show us the new. 

4). Worship. Liminal space, like all times, is a time for worship.  IT is as we worship that we are transformed and we get the opportunity to witness to our great God.  As we live lives of worship, the invitations come form our communities, and the new becomes clear.

When we began missionally listening, we believed that something new was on the horizon.  What we have learnt is that it is the liminal space that transformation takes place and outcomes beyond your imagining come about supernaturally.  May you embrace liminality (as scary as it is), and may God do beyond your imagining where you live, and the communities you serve.

 

 

The Royal Wedding and Radical Christian Community

 

Over the last year or so the headlines of many newspapers are to do with the soap opera that is the royal family – most of which centres around Harry and Megan.   Just this week, their UK residence has been given to Prince Andrew and many pages have been written on the big question, ‘will Harry be at the King’s coronation’?  It feels like only yesterday, Charles walked Megan down the aisle due to her family’s division rather than Harry’s.  Things seemed happy and united then. The fairy tale wedding had just begun... 

When I think back to that event, I recall a striking memory.  My social media. You may remember the brilliant American preacher who enthused us all to love God and love neighbour.  After his preach, my social media came alive with comments like this, ‘Amazing! If only I could preach like him, my church would be fall’.  ‘Expect church to be full tomorrow wherever you are, the Gospel has been heard brilliant by millions across the globe’.   I went to play cricket shortly after the service and asked those I played with (all non-church goers), ‘what did you think of the sermon’?  The replies were startlingly different to those my Christian friends had made.  ‘Boring’, ‘irrelevant’, ‘long’ (it was only 10 minutes) and ‘uninteresting’ were the memorable descriptions.  I realised at that time that is how my life has been split for many years, my Christian friends saying ‘if only we did this church thing better (preaching, worship, youth, website, coffee) people will come’ and my non-Christian friends saying ‘its irrelevant, we are never coming’.  

But at the same time I was suffering with medical anxiety.  This basically means that whatever ailments you have, when you describe them, I have them too!  I have been through the menopause twice!!!  When people asked in my community ‘how are you’?  I shared my vulnerability, ‘struggling, anxious’.   This approach beautifully opened the door for the other person to share their struggles, and my word, everybody is OK until you get to know them.  I have heard of every human pain and sadness.  So, I ask, ‘what do you do with that, how do you cope?’  The replies have been vast. ‘Spiritual guru, hypnosis, tarot, crystals, etc… etc….’  I ask, ‘Why did you do that?’  The constant reply, ‘My friend said it worked and that I had to try it’.   I was amazed. ‘Have you ever tried prayer’? ‘No – I have never been offered prayer.’   How sad is it that we have the good news  of relationship with God and the peace that it brings but so many non-Christians have not been offered prayer and instead are turning to other methods evangelised by others. Let’s pray for people.  The best evangelism there is.

As I heard the replies to the royal wedding sermon and as I discovered the brokenness on my doorstep – I realised that people were not looking for a service that was done better.  They were looking for authentic community where they could weep – and together move to healing and love.  They were looking for the church.

So instead of focusing on how we do our church services better in the hope people might come – lets spend our time being family, and creating the type of culture where all are welcome, all are able to take their masks off and together walk to wholeness offered by our Triune God. 

I offer you the following biblical imagery to dwell in and discern how your Christian community could become an even more radical loving family. 

The Gethsemane community – The place where Jesus bled from his forehead with hyper anxiety, knowing his death was near.  The place of tears. The place of loud lament. Where does Jesus go? To his disciples, ‘pray for me’.  Even when they let him down, he keeps going back.  Time and time again. Gethsemane is the place of vulnerability, empathy, and perseverance in community.

The Philippi community – The place which shines like stars!  And when we look at the church being planted we realise that the first three disciples were radically different.  Lydia, the middle-class foreign business owner.  The slave girl, imprisoned by her owners.  The ex-roman soldier now Jailor. How does your community create places for ‘the other’.  Where we love and are loved and thus reveal God’s love.

The Acts community – The place where they are one.  One in love, one in preaching, one in belongings, one in mealtimes, one in prayer, one at the table.   And the result of that community was many miraculous signs, all filled with awe, the favour of all people and THE LORD ADDED TO THEM DAILY  THOSE BEING SAVED.  Not because of what they did, but because of who they were together.  Lets concentrate on being one – and let the Lord add to our number.

 

Your community – May this week you focus on not how well you do stuff but what sort of culture you have – and may you become more vulnerable and share. And even though you are different from one another, may you be one, unified – a vision for the world that loves division and needs to learn another way.  And because of these things, may the Lord trust your community with the most broken and desperate by adding to your number daily those being saved. 

24/7 worship and snake like living

 

The keys of the piano are gently played, the guitar begins to twang, the worship ‘leader’ speaks… ‘now is the time to worship’.  So often we have been blessed in gathered worship.  In fact, many of the key moments of coming face to face with God has come during gathered worship.  I could tell you stories of how I wept in the Spirit, whilst holding a 6-inch nail at Spring Harvest, or the time I collapsed in the Spirit at Soul Survivor – I could even tell you about the time I danced like a lunatic filled with the Spirit at a traditional church gathering.  So often we have been blessed by gathered worship.  Its not a surprise.  The leader has prayed about this hour on Sunday all week, hours spent sweating over a 20-minute talk.  The worship band have prayed and practiced.  Prayer meetings before the service.  Even the punters have come prepared for this is the moment we bring all our worship to God.   I have even been invited to preach with the words, ‘we have now had our worship – Ben’s going to speak to us now’!  Gathered worship is great!  But…

 

If that hour a week is all we give in worship something big has gone wrong.  I can hear Amos now declaring the word of the Lord, ‘I hate, I despise your religious festivals; your assemblies are a stench to me.  Even though you bring me burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them.  Though you bring choice offerings, I will have no regard for them.  Away with the noise of your songs!  I will not listen to the music of your harps.  But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-falling stream.’

 

Worship is looking at God face to face – and when we do, like Moses we shine – like Jesus on the mountain we are transfigured – looking like the best version of ourselves.  But if we are only doing this for an hour a week, our worship is ignored.  So, Paul encourages us to look to God in our everyday life.  He writes to the church in Rome:

 

‘So, here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.’

 

Every moment of every day we can look to God face to face and we can be metamorphosised into his likeness.  By choosing to wake up and pray, rather than fill ourselves with the anxiety of the news or social media – we look to God.  In the shops, what we buy – and whether we queue for human relationship or slip out quickly with the computerised till – we can look to God.  When watching latest TV, or listening to music – we can judge and critique – or we can learn about the world and how we might reach it with God’s love.  The way we use our belongings, the food we eat, the clothes we buy, the way we treat our bodies – every aspect of our lives – is a calling to worship – to look to God – and thus, is an opportunity to be transformed into His likeness.

 

Nicodemus and Jesus share a late night conversation where we are all instructed to be ‘born again’.  I wonder when the apostle Peter was born again?  When he left the family business and followed Jesus?  When he witnessed healings?  When he saw Jesus transfigured?  When he saw the blood drip from Jesus’ forehead at Gethsemane?  When he denied Jesus three times?  When he was beautifully recommissioned at the beach?  At Pentecost when he preached and converted thousands? When he went to the ‘other’, Cornelius’ house, and shared the Gospel?  I think Peter would say, ‘every single time’.  You see, we are not called to be born again the once like a butterfly – but to be constantly born again like a snake – always shedding skin as we grow and direct our lives in 24/7 worship to the one who gave it all.

 

So, this week, and the weeks ahead – enjoy gathered worship.  But also, in every area of your life offer it to God – worship Him – look at Him face to face.  And may every single time you know that you are being transformed into His likeness.  Be a snake not a butterfly, be born again loads this week.