Happy Valentine's Day… and here's a Valentine-ish stat.
Of all the songs with the word "love" in the title, the most-played in public (radio, shops and so on) is…
Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis.
Of course, her song (which I have to confess I have on my iPod) is all about her bleeding love. But maybe on this, the day when love is most commercialised and soppy-fied, it's worth remembering that in her title, she's right.
Real love bleeds.
Real love, as Leona puts it, really does "wear these scars for everyone to see."
The BBC is running a fascinating analysis of wealth on its website (go here), and log in to do it.
It shows you how you're doing compared to everyone else in the UK. We did it as a family: cue predictable howls about how much richer our children's friends are, how we never go anywhere "special" on holiday, etc etc… And even I thought I didn't feel particularly wealthy. Wouldn't it be nice to have that bit more, like those other people. If only, if only…
But actually, we were well over half way up the lucre ladder. And of course, when we think in world terms—as you can here—that green-eyed perception-distorting monster lurking within us, the one which only ever compares us with those who seem to have so much more, goes a little quiet.
It reminded me of some free downloadable resources on our site, which look at the whole question of contentment.
Because actually, I need to remember that it's not about looking up or looking down: it's about looking at Christ, and seeing how far short I fall of deserving anything at all, and yet still seeing that in him, we will enjoy all the riches of God's grace for all eternity.
Wouldn’t it be great to have a little booklet to give to a non-Christian friend with answers to the big questions people have about the Christian faith?
It would?! We know—which is why our little I’m Glad You Asked That booklet has proved such a big seller.
But it’s nearly 20 years old now, and has been retired for a few years: so after two decades it’s time (like a Hollywood actress) it had a facelift and a comeback.
So we’re asking ourselves:
This is where we’d love you to come in. The current questions are listed below: please leave a comment, telling us one (or more of):
We’d really, really love your help with this, so that the new version won’t only look better, it’ll also be able to work better and in more situations (just like a facelifted Hollywood actress…)
Here are the current questions:
Christians should get angry. But we need to get angry about the right things.
We’re currently developing a Good Book Guide for small-group Bible studies looking at the book of Jonah.
The author’s Stephen Witmer, a pastor in Massachusetts. And he makes a great comparison between Jonah, and what makes him angry, and Jesus, and what makes him angry.
Stephen’s put loads of interesting, challenging stuff like that in the Good Book Guide. It should be out this summer.
Half of elite scientists are “religious”, and another fifth consider themselves “spiritual”, according to a recent study.
The US survey, which is based on 1,700 scientists, suggests that Richard Dawkins’ famous claim that elite scientists are atheists is also a rather false claim.
That’s the first interesting point made in an article about the study in today’s Guardian.And Nick Spencer goes on to make a couple more really thought-provoking observations:
“Our conviction that scientists, elite or otherwise, are somehow better qualified to discern the nature of reality is dubious.
“Elite scientists undoubtedly know vastly more about their subject than other people. But to imagine that that makes them somehow better qualified to adjudicate on big-picture questions is like saying because I know my home town like the back of my hand, I am well-equipped to lecture on European geography.”
“Christ often remarked on the inability of the educated elite of his time to get what he was about.
“There is a long-standing theme within Christian thought that sees the Christian message as having a particular appeal to the underclass, not only those socially and politically alienated, but also those the intellectually and educationally excluded.”
My question is: is that true of Bible-teaching churches today in the UK? Does the way we run our churches, and the style of our teaching, have “a particular appeal to the underclass”, both in social and educational terms? Or does it tend to have more of a “particular appeal” to middle-class, university-educated “elites”?
What do you think?
I know, I know, Christmas is well and truly over, and no-one wants to think about it till next November at the earliest (apart from super-organised people who are picking up discounted Christmas cards and decorations for next year).
But in publishing, we have to think ahead (not something I'm known for): and we're starting to develop a short evangelistic book which uses the historical events of the first Christmas to explain the gospel. It's for giving to friends, handing out at carol services, and so on.
Here's my current question: How do you get to the cross and resurrection from the Christmas story?
Obviously, no gospel explanation is complete if it includes only the manger, and not the cross and the tomb. But how to get there without a horrific, crunching gear change?
That's where I'd love your help! If at Christmas-time you've ever chatted to friends, family or colleagues who don't know Christ, how did you get to the cross? How have you heard others do it? How would you like it to be done in a book you could happily give to those contacts?
All ideas very gratefully received! Post a comment below. And then get the book next Christmas to see how we did it…
Here's something truly encouraging.
It's an article in Evangelicals Now, a simple testimony of one man's path to faith. But the really heartwarming thing is the number of different individuals involved, and how God guided this guy's questioning over a number of years.
He was struck both by what Christians said, and also how they lived – from school years onwards.
I would guess that some of those involved never knew whether their words and actions had an impact – maybe they thought he was yet another person they prayed for but who didn’t respond.
It's just really encouraged me to keep reaching out, even though most of the time I won’t know if there’s any fruit until the new creation.
Leading our church service last Sunday, I remarked that church was like a lot of different things:
It was a throwaway line to introduce the confession we said together but, in a way I hadn't planned or foreseen, its real value came after the meeting as we mingled for coffee.
I find it quite awkward sometimes to open up conversations with people at a level deeper than "How was your week?" I usually find myself talking about the kids rather than about Christ.
But on Sunday, I just asked people this simple question: "What did you need most this morning - a school, a family or a hospital?"
It opened up a series of brilliant conversations about the sermon, our human needs, and about some doubts and other issues people were concerned about. It felt like fellowship ought to. Real, natural, open, non-judgmental and caring.
Why not try it this Sunday morning... and why not help me for next time I lead a service, by leaving a comment suggesting another way to prompt some Christ-centred post-church conversations?
A recent study by the UK Department of Education has discovered the top ten factors in having happy children. Some surprises, but a lot of great encouragement for parents. Here's the list:
So worth persevering with family meal times, keeping the lines of communication open and insisting on brocolli.
But you might also check out Luke 6 v 20-23 for some challenging thoughts on how your children will be truly happy... it's Jesus' list. I suppose the rather glaring difference between the two springs from the fact that Jesus' factors are taking eternity into account, rather than focusing only on the here and now.
Jesus is everywhere in the Old Testament: He said so Himself (in Luke 24 v 27).
There are the famous bits, like Psalm 22 and Isaiah 53 and the Passover in Exodus 12-13. But recently I've been reading through 2 Samuel, mainly because I'm not sure I've ever read through it from start to finish before. And in 2 Samuel 15, God's chosen king David faces a rebellion. His own son has set himself up as king in his place; Israel has rejected him. He's been betrayed by a trusted companion, Ahithophel. He has to flee Jerusalem, passing through the Mount of Olives as he does so. Those who see him weep.
It looks as though all is lost: God's christ, David, has lost God's kingdom.
But outside Jerusalem, David wins a great victory, and is restored to the throne.
It should be a happy ending, but it isn't. His rebellious son, Absalom, is killed, and David mourns for him: “My son Absolom! If only I had died instead of you!” (2 Samuel 18 v 33).
David's kingship is secured, but his rebellious son could not be saved.
I was happily reading through this historical account (I'm a history geek) when the penny dropped: what happened to God's "christ" David is a glimpse of what would happen a millennium later to God's ultimate Christ, Jesus.
But Jesus could do what David only wished he could: save His rebellious people, by dying instead of them. On Jesus' lips, David's “If only I had died instead of you” became “This is my body, given for you” (Luke 22 v 19).
Jesus both secured his kingship and saved his rebellious children.
That's our King. Isn't He amazing?
Jesus in 2 Samuel. Wow.
If you've come across Jesus in the Old Testament recently, do share it below so we can all say “Wow” (or, in more theological language, “Alleluia”).
