kneel in wonder at heaven touching earth» Peace

Hold us fast to your promises of peace

Paul Sibley — Sun, 10 Jul 2011 08:00:04 +0000

Genuine world peace sometimes feels as though it’s just an impossible dream. There’s so much conflict in the world, so much upheaval, there doesn’t appear to be enough room left for real peace.

However, individual people and organisations all around the world are trying, are working towards a genuine peace. For sure, it doesn’t make the front pages of our newspapers as much as we’d like. But that may well be as much to do with the fact that bad news and conflict sell more than good news and peace.

There is much still to do. And the sheer size of the task is overwhelming. But that should not, must not, stop us from making an effort. As an individual it sounds impossible; but once we’re able to look around and start to see what others are doing, and then joining our efforts with their efforts, it doesn’t seem quite so daunting.

Reminds me of the Starfish story, one of my favourite inspirational stories:

The Starfish

I awoke early, as I often did, just before sunrise to walk by the ocean’s edge and greet the new day. As I moved through the misty dawn, I focused on a faint, far away motion. I saw a youth, bending and reaching and flailing arms, dancing on the beach, no doubt in celebration of the perfect day soon to begin.

As I approached, I sadly realized that the youth was not dancing to the day, but rather bending to sift through the debris left by the night’s tide, stopping now and then to pick up a starfish and then standing, to heave it back into the sea. I asked the youth the purpose of the effort. “The tide has washed the starfish onto the beach and they cannot return to the sea by themselves,” the youth replied. “When the sun rises, they will die, unless I throw them back to the sea.”

As the youth explained, I surveyed the vast expanse of beach, strectching in both directions beyond my sight. Starfish littered the shore in numbers beyond calculation. The hopelessness of the youth’s plan became clear to me and I countered, “But there are more starfish on this beach than you can ever save before the sun is up. Surely you cannot expect to make a difference.”

The youth paused briefly to consider my words, bent to pick up a starfish and threw it as far as possible. Turning to me he simply said, “I made a difference to that one.”

I left the boy and went home, deep in thought of what the boy had said. I returned to the beach and spent the rest of the day helping the boy throw starfish in to the sea.

If enough of us start to throw starfish back into the ocean we can make a difference: if enough of us start to do even small things towards peace we can make a difference. Don’t be overwhelmed by the hugeness of the task, just concentrate upon the bit that you can effect. It’s all too easy to be overwhelmed, and do nothing; but every little bit can make a difference — especially when added to lots of other little bits.

God our Saviour,
look on this wounded world
in pity and in power;
hold us fast to your promises of peace
won for us by your Son,
our Saviour Jesus Christ.

Additional Collect for The Third Sunday after Trinity
is Copyright © The Archbishops Council

By the lakeside you renewed your call to your disciples

Paul Sibley — Sun, 29 May 2011 08:00:18 +0000

I have always enjoyed sitting by water of any kind — rivers, lakes, gravel pits, or the sea — and probably don’t do it often enough nowadays. For me, it’s a great way to become aware of the presence of God, through the beauty of his created world. I very nearly took up fishing once, just for the excuse it would’ve given to sit by the water for hours at a time, absorbing the peace of God which passes all understanding.

But when the disciples met with Jesus by the lakeside after that first Easter (John 21:1-19), it would not have been the peaceful event I describe. Jesus was dead. Their dear friend and leader, the person they’d invested all their hopes in, was dead. They must’ve been completely devastated, and probably only went fishing because they just didn’t know what else to do.

They’d worked hard all night, but to no avail, and were heading back to shore. Nothing was going right for them, and I imagine they must have been extremely depressed. As they approached shore they saw a man standing watching them. As happened in many of the resurrection stories, they didn’t recognize him immediately. But this stranger encouraged them to do something a little differently, shift their position so to speak. Perhaps they thought he could see something from his vantage point that they couldn’t. But, whatever the reason, they followed his advice, and caught a huge net-full of fish. It was then that they realized who it was on the beach.

And when they finally hauled their catch to shore, Jesus welcomed them with a warm fire and breakfast cooking. That must have been an incredible welcome for those disciples, cold and wet as they were. I can imagine the turmoil their emotions were going through.

One of the things that grabs my attention in this story is that Jesus didn’t really mention the huge catch of fish. Apart from a few fish to add to what was cooking on the fire for them all to eat, nothing is said about them. They were a gift; freely given for the disciples to do with as they would, there were no pre-conditions, no strings attached, nothing — just a gift.

After they’d eaten their breakfast, after they’d been given the gift of a huge catch of fish, Jesus asked Peter, three times, if he loved him. And in doing so, renewed Peter’s calling, and through him the rest of the disciples’, and even our calling too — theirs, and our, calling to love and care for our fellow human beings.

Maybe when we truly recognize, and act on, that calling, that vocation, we might be able to bring others to warm themselves in the fire of Jesus’ love.

Risen Christ,
by the lakeside you renewed your call to your disciples:
help your Church to obey your command
and draw the nations to the fire of your love,
to the glory of God the Father.

Additional Collect for The Sixth Sunday of Easter
is Copyright © The Archbishops Council

Strengthen us to proclaim your risen life

Paul Sibley — Sun, 08 May 2011 08:00:11 +0000

Following the resurrection of Jesus, the disciples were filled with boldness and fresh hope, and went on to found the early Church. Those tired and defeated men who had slipped away fearing for their lives following the crucifixion came back strengthened sufficiently to change history. I have to admit, I find that one of the more compelling arguments in favour of the resurrection as a “real” event in history. I don’t think those men could have done what they did without it.

And here we are, in this Collect for The Third Sunday of Easter, praying for that same strength; strength to proclaim the risen Christ to the world. Now, I don’t think for one minute that I’m going to change history, as the disciples did. But that shouldn’t stop me from trying to share my faith with others. After all, I’ve benefited so much from it, and so can others.

And, in light of the “Great Commission”, it’s difficult to avoid the responsibility to share our faith with others. The Great Commission is the instruction to his disciples by the resurrected Jesus Christ, that they spread his teachings to all the peoples of the world. Although a version of it appears in Luke, John and Acts, the version we’re probably most familiar with is to be found in the Gospel of Matthew (28:16-20). In Luke, Jesus tells the disciples to preach repentance and forgiveness, and promises that they will have divine power. In John, Jesus says the disciples will have the Holy Spirit and the authority to forgive sins and to withhold forgiveness. In Acts, Jesus promises the disciples that the Holy Spirit will inspire them. And in Matthew, Jesus directs the disciples to baptise people of all nations in the name of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the Trinitarian formula. It has become one of the major doctrines in Christian theology, emphasizing, as it does, missionary work, evangelism, and baptism.

So let us pray that we, too, will be filled with boldness and fresh hope; so that we’ll be strong enough to proclaim Christ’s risen life, and, yes, let’s pray, too, that we’ll be filled to overflowing with his peace, so that we can share that too.

Risen Christ,
you filled your disciples with boldness and fresh hope:
strengthen us to proclaim your risen life
and fill us with your peace,
to the glory of God the Father.

Additional Collect for The Third Sunday of Easter
is Copyright © The Archbishops Council

That we may know eternal peace

Paul Sibley — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 08:00:36 +0000

The traditional name for today, The Fifth Sunday of Lent, is Passion Sunday. It marks the beginning of the last two weeks of Lent, traditionally called Passiontide. I think the Roman Catholic Church has, since 1969, transferred the name Passion Sunday to be an alternative for next Sunday, Palm Sunday. And many Anglican provinces have followed the Roman Catholic lead. The Church of England, as far as I understand things from the lectionary, allows for either. The Collects, however, read as though we should still call this Sunday by its traditional name. Personally, I prefer to keep the traditional name because of the way it points us towards the passion of Christ.

Today’s Collect tells us in no uncertain terms what Christ’s death achieved for us — eternal peace: the peace of God which surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:7). We can enjoy a peace-filled eternal life because of what God, through his Son, did for us on the cross. He suffered the agonies of crucifixion so that we may know eternal peace.

That’s how much God loves us! Isn’t that an incredible thought?! Every year at this time, in the two weeks of Passiontide, I shed many a tear thinking about the sacrifice that was made for me.

“Amazing Love, O what sacrifice, The Son of God, given for me” Graham Kendrick.

Gracious Father,
you gave up your Son
out of love for the world:
lead us to ponder the mysteries of his passion,
that we may know eternal peace
through the shedding of our Saviour’s blood,
Jesus Christ our Lord.

Additional Collect for The Fifth Sunday of Lent
is Copyright © The Archbishops Council

On each day during Passiontide a couple of years ago I published a short reflection on one of the Stations of the Cross. Here is a linked-list of those posts; they may help you on your journey through these last two weeks of Lent.

Station One — Jesus is condemned to death
Station Two — Jesus receives his cross
Station Three — Jesus falls the first time
Station Four — Jesus meets his mother
Station Five — Simon of Cyrene helps Jesus carry his cross
Station Six — Veronica wipes the face of Jesus
Station Seven — Jesus falls for the second time
Station Eight — Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem
Station Nine — Jesus falls for the third time
Station Ten — Jesus is stripped of his garments
Station Eleven — Jesus is nailed to the cross
Station Twelve — Jesus dies on the cross
Station Thirteen — Jesus is taken down from the cross
Station Fourteen — Jesus is laid in the tomb

How Christian is Violence?

Paul Sibley — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 08:00:20 +0000

In yesterday’s post, I mentioned that I was due to preach at our Book of Common Prayer Holy Communion service in the evening. It went better than I feared, but not as well as I hoped. I really felt the months away, especially in confidence and delivery; but I did manage, and for that, I’m grateful. The text of my sermon is below.

How Christian is Violence?
John 2:13-22

Children at School
When our children first started school, many years ago now, I was quickly faced with one of the dilemmas perhaps all parents face. These tiny children, whom we’d carefully nurtured at home for four and a half years, were suddenly thrust into a world, which could be quite tough for them, the world of school.

As a Christian parent, when my children came home in tears because somebody had upset them or hit them, what should I do? Tell them to fight back? Say: “If someone kicks you, you must learn to stand up for yourself?” Or suggest they tell the teacher? Or go in myself to talk to the teacher? Or confront the culprits myself? Or should I say: “Don’t worry about it. If you ignore them they’ll leave you alone?” Or should I say: “It’s wrong to fight. No matter how anybody treats you, you must always turn the other cheek?”

What would be the Christian position? As Christians, how should we respond to conflict?

Peace in the Bible
At first sight, the Bible message seems to be very clear: at all costs, resolve your conflicts by peaceful means. “Blessed are the peace-makers,” said Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. And the idea of peace is at the heart of Christianity. “The peace of the Lord be always with you,” we say when we exchange a sign of the peace. And many services end with: “The peace of God which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God and of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.”

It seems peace, and especially God’s peace is extremely important to us. So surely we who are made in his image should strive to emulate his ways in our lives, and seek above all else for peace with each other.

Violence in the Bible
But that’s the Bible at first sight. On a second glance, it doesn’t seem to be quite so simple. In the Ten Commandments, we’re told, “Thou shalt not kill.” But God himself doesn’t seem to be bound by such a law, and in the Old Testament often orders his people not only to kill, but also to massacre in a way, which nowadays we would regard as utterly horrific.

The God of the Old Testament generally seems much more war-like and threatening than the God revealed by Jesus. Perhaps as the centuries rolled past, and people became more mature and more civilised, so they were able to become aware of the benefits of peace, and slowly to become aware of God’s more peaceful characteristics. So that by the time we reach the New Testament, the new revelation of God seen in Jesus is one of peace and gentleness.

Luke
In Luke’s version of today’s New Testament reading of the cleansing of the temple, we hear that when Jesus came in sight of Jerusalem, he wept over it and said: “If only you had known the way that leads to peace!”

But his very next act, according to St. Luke, is one of considerable violence. He went into the temple and began driving out the traders. He overturned the tables of the merchants; and, according to today’s reading from John’s gospel, made a whip for the very purpose of driving out the money-changers. Considerable violence. No wonder they hated him and sought to crucify him, for it seems violence almost always breeds violence. And this violent act, according to John, took place at the very beginning of Jesus’s ministry, although all the other gospel writers place this incident much later, as one of the events which sparked off the first Easter.

Contradictions
So on the one hand we have a gospel, which seems to speak of peace. On the other, a God who throughout the time of his relationship with his people, both before Christ and through Christ, suddenly breaks out in violence against them.

How are we supposed to handle this contradiction?

Perhaps we could say God’s violence is justified, for it’s only against evil or evil-doers. But that doesn’t always seem to be the case. Sometimes God’s violence is against those who practise evil, but at other times it seems to be capricious, inexplicable.

Uzzah
The story of Uzzah is told in the first book of Chronicles in the Old Testament (1 Chronicles 13:9f). Uzzah was one of the bearers chosen to accompany the Ark of the Covenant. The Ark was where God himself resided before a permanent home, the temple, was built for him. Because the Ark was so holy, it had to be carried on long poles on a sort of cart pulled by oxen. It couldn’t be touched by human hand. On this occasion the ground was uneven and one of the oxen stumbled. Uzzah instinctively put out his hand to steady the Ark, to prevent it falling.

The story goes on: The anger of the LORD was kindled against Uzzah; he struck him down because he put out his hand to the ark; and he died there before God.

Ananias and Sapphira
An incident which is similar, but in which God appears to have perhaps slightly more justification for his actions, occurs in the New Testament, in the book of Acts. The very earliest Christian church was a kind of experiment in Communism. No one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. We’re told there was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold.

But Ananias, with the consent of his wife Sapphira, sold a piece of property. With his wife’s knowledge, he kept back some of the proceeds, and brought only a part and laid it at the apostles’ feet. Because of his deception Ananias fell down and died. And about three hours later, when his wife came in, she too was convicted of deception and instantly dropped dead. And not surprisingly, great fear seized the whole church and all who heard of these things. (Acts 4:32-5:11).

Admittedly Ananias and Sapphira did wrong. They sinned. They lied and deceived. But even so, the end result was incredibly drastic and very violent.

What are we to make of this God who apparently condemns human violence, but who is sometimes violent himself? And how does it help us to handle our own conflict?

Integrity
Perhaps the answer is something to do with striving after peace whenever possible, but not peace at any cost. Integrity seems to be very important. Perhaps there are occasions when we need to confront evil, even if it means being violent.

Many people believe the policy of appeasement just prior to the Second World War was wrong. And in the end, it seems violence was necessary to stop the terrible evil that occurred. We’re seeing something similar in Libya today — violence to stop violence.

Perhaps as Christians we’ve become afraid of conflict because it’s so difficult to handle. We’ve become “awfully nice” people, but maybe the price, to some extent, has been our integrity. The world speaks with a smooth tongue. And perhaps we in the Church have persuaded ourselves that polite niceness is Christianity.

But throughout history, God’s prophets have been rarely smooth or comfortable. Like God himself, they’ve often been angry, and sometimes even violent in their confrontation of evil.

Most of us, of course, aren’t like the prophets. We’re a mixture. We’re neither wholly good, nor are we wholly bad. But, if there’s never any sign of conflict, perhaps we should beware! The prophets were angry because their faith was so important to them. And perhaps God’s anger in Old Testament times and his anger through Christ, is because he cares so deeply. Although Jesus is the Prince of Peace, he also said: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” (Matthew 10:34)

The Cross
Ultimately a violent event lies at the very centre of our faith. A very violent cross. Some people find the cross an offensive symbol, because of its violence. But perhaps the cross is actually the violence that ends all need of violence.

The cross kills. If I was really able to take up my cross, to face anything which has such a hold over me that it’s crushing the life out of me, perhaps then I’d learn how to handle conflict, but find the need for violence had largely disappeared.

Perfect Peace

Paul Sibley — Sat, 05 Feb 2011 09:00:07 +0000

This wonderful little story was emailed to me this week, thanks Andy. It’s a good reminder that sometimes we look in the wrong place to find peace — it’s potential is always with us.

Perfect Peace

There once was a King who offered a prize to the artist who would paint the best picture of peace. Many artists tried. The King looked at all the pictures, but there were only two he really liked and he had to choose between them.

One picture was of a calm lake. The lake was a perfect mirror for peaceful towering mountains were all around it. Overhead was a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. All who saw this picture thought that it was a perfect picture of peace.

The other picture had mountains too. But these were rugged and bare. Above was an angry sky from which rain fell, in which lightening played. Down the side of the mountain tumbled a foaming waterfall. This did not look peaceful at all.

But when the King looked, he saw behind the waterfall a tiny bush growing in a crack in the rock. In the bush a mother bird had built her nest. There, in the midst of the rush of angry water, sat the mother bird on her nest … perfect peace.

Which picture do you think won the prize?

The King chose the second picture.

Do you know why?

“Because,” explained the King, “peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. Peace means to be in the midst of all those things and still be calm in your heart. That is the real meaning of peace.”

To the beginning of another year

Paul Sibley — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 09:00:45 +0000

Today we are celebrating the beginning of another new year. I wonder what 2011 will hold for us, and whether it will be better, or worse, than 2010. It’s probably just as well that, at this early start to the year, none of can really know the answer to that.

I suspect that, here in the UK, this will be quite a tough year, as the government seems determined to press on with its many economic cuts. I’m not always very sure of where I stand politically; but my instincts in this lead me to think that they’re cutting too deeply, too quickly. I think things are going to get worse, especially for the less well off, before they get better. I hope and pray that no one will allowed to fall through the cracks of society.

There is still far too much conflict and oppression around our world (will it ever change?), in too many places to name individually. I hope and pray that 2011 will see a lessening, if not a cease, in hostilities; and that the leaders of the nations will find ways to work in collaboration together to bring about the lasting peace that so many yearn for.

As for me, personally, my main hope is that my health will settle down a bit, and maybe even become more predictable. Stability would make it all much easier to cope with, even if it was poor but stable. The last few months have been especially bad, but I think I’m beginning to see some signs of things improving again.

On the whole I’m really pleased with the way things have gone with this blog. The main focus is still intended to be a reflection based in some way on the weekly collect — using the Additional Collects of the Church of England. And the other regular items seem to be working out okay too. Hard to believe that it’s been going for three years now — this is my fourth new year post. I hope to become more active around the blogosphere again this year; I’ve let that slip in recent months while I’ve been ill, and the number of comments on here has suffered because of it.

If you have any comments or suggestions for improvements, I would always be glad to hear them — either through the comments system or the contact form. I can’t promise to follow every idea, but will give it consideration.

My thoughts and prayers are with you all as you head into 2011. May we all find ways of living the rest of our lives to the honour and glory of God.

Eternal Lord God,
we give you thanks for bringing us through the changes of time
to the beginning of another year.
Forgive us the wrong we have done in the year that is past,
and help us to spend the rest of our days
to your honour and glory;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

A Collect for the New Year,
from Common Worship: Times and Seasons
is Copyright © The Archbishops Council

Bring near the day when wars shall cease

Paul Sibley — Sun, 14 Nov 2010 09:00:00 +0000

Today, the 14th November, is Remembrance Sunday. There will be many Remembrance parades and Church services around the country, even though more emphasis is being put onto Remembrance/Armistice Day, 11th November, itself again. I think both days are a really important part of our remembering, and learning from, the past, in the hopes that one day we will bring near the day when wars shall cease and poverty and pain shall end.

War, and defence, are incredibly expensive. I’m not politically astute enough to comment on the cuts we’re facing here in the UK, and how they will impact on our armed forces and defence policy. But if we can do something to reduce the huge economic costs of war and defence, then maybe we’ll be in a better position to bring about the end of poverty and pain too. War does much to increase poverty and pain; maybe ending it will do as much to reduce them.

Over recent days, and today, we have done much to remember those who have died, and are still dying, in times of conflict. Let us also remember what it was they were ultimately fighting for — peace. And let us, each and everyone of us, recommit ourselves to achieving that goal — let us continue to strive for peace in our world.

As I mentioned last Sunday, the Collects for last week and this week have been swapped.

God, our refuge and strength,
bring near the day when wars shall cease
and poverty and pain shall end,
that earth may know the peace of heaven
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Additional Collect for The Third Sunday before Advent
is Copyright © The Archbishops Council

Hold us fast to your promises of peace

Paul Sibley — Sun, 20 Jun 2010 08:00:11 +0000