Keeping Favourites vs Welcoming All

But we begin the series today by thinking of what is by no means a new question in Christian faith.

What is the relationship between faith and deeds?

Between what we believe and what we do?

Between the content of our faith and our Christian action?

Go out onto the street and ask people randomly the question, what is a Christian?

And my guess is you'll get one of two broadly responses.

One response would be, well, a Christian, quite easy really, a Christian quite simply is somebody who believes in Jesus,

who believes in his teaching, who believes in his claims.

Another response could be one that goes a bit more like this.

Well, a Christian, of course, is somebody who engages in acts of kindness,

who's a good, caring person, who's compassionate, who has mercy, who is full of grace and forgiveness.

In that sort of response, what you have is a description, not so much of what somebody believes,

but more a description of what they do.

The reality is, is that in Christian faith, in authentic Christian faith, as it is presented to us in the Bible,

you can't separate the two.

We've got some things put on the screen.

Can we have the first one here?

Some of you have probably seen these before, but when you look at that image,

you're probably going to see one or two things straight away.

First of all, who sees two faces?

Put your hands up if you see a vase.

Okay.

Next one.

Again, you've probably seen this.

Who sees the face of a young woman looking away?

Who sees the face of an older woman looking downwards?

Yeah.

Last one.

You may not have seen this one before.

Who sees a face that's looking straight at you?

Who sees a face that's looking to the side?

You see, in all three cases, in those pictures, you cannot have one image without including the other.

You can say that you are drawn for a while more to one than the other, but the reality is, both exist.

And when you present that image, you cannot actually exclude the other from it.

And what I want to suggest to you is that when we look at the way in which Scripture presents God's desire for us to live our lives,

we have the same kind of thing going on when it comes to the relationship between faith and action, between faith and deeds.

Yeah, our attention might be drawn to one or the other for a while, but the reality is you can't have one to the exclusion of the other.

So over these next few minutes, let's just think about what it might look like if we were to have one to the exclusion of the other,

or to fool ourselves into thinking that there could be such a thing.

Because the reality actually can sometimes be that that becomes what we live with.

Let's first of all think about what it might look like were we to have deeds but without faith.

And what I want to suggest to you is in each case, whilst these can be realities,

they're not realities that are actually authentic Christianity.

So deeds without faith.

What might that look like?

Well, the reality is that many people, many people would say,

well, of course you can live a really morally good life without any kind of faith in Jesus Christ going on.

Some of the kindest people, some of the most morally good people I know,

don't profess to believe in Jesus Christ.

They may not believe in God at all.

Now, of course, that's real, that's true.

And we need to be quite clear that there is nothing in that observation that runs contrary to the claims of Christian faith itself.

Why?

Because one of the very first things that the Bible tells us,

that it teaches us about what it is to be a human being,

is that human beings are fundamentally good.

And the reason why human beings are fundamentally good

is because we are created in the image of God, who is good and love.

That whenever we see the fundamental goodness of human beings,

that is wired into us, that is part of our DNA,

what we see is something of the fingerprints of the creation of God,

who puts it there to begin with.

So when our hearts are stirred to reach out to others,

when we actually see that something is wrong and we want to challenge it,

when we want to do something to make a difference in the world,

we don't need Christian faith necessarily for that to happen.

Why?

Because it's in our God-given humanity.

And one of the things that makes us distinctive as human beings

is precisely that instinct to do what is good, to do what is right,

to have that sense of right from wrong.

Why?

Because God has put it there.

Regardless of whether we believe in God or not,

we have about us that sense of morality,

that sense of right, that sense of compassion.

Now we live in a broken world,

and so let's not paint a naive picture of what it is to be human.

Of course we are aware of the ambiguous nature

of what it is to be a human being.

But it is not true to say that human beings are all bad,

neither is it good to say that humans are all good.

But the reality is in all of us,

we have both,

including that goodness that reflects the creator,

from whom we all come,

whether or not we actually believe in him.

But for all that, there is something that is missing.

If, if we exclude faith from deeds.

So if you've seen the film,

Saving Private Ryan,

anyone seen that film?

It came out about 20 years ago.

It's a really, really harrowing film.

The first 15 minutes or so of the film

depict the D-Day landings on the Normandy beaches.

But what the film tells is a story of

a mother who has lost three of her four sons in battle.

And news of this gets back to HQ,

and to spare this mother's agony of losing all four sons,

instructions are sent to the soldiers

that they have to go into enemy territory

and rescue the last remaining son,

young Private James Ryan.

And Captain John Miller, played by Tom Hanks,

is the one who has to lead the mission.

And he's not very impressed when he's told

that he has to go and save this,

when in his eyes it seems to be just another soldier.

He says,

this James Ryan had better be worth it.

After this war is all over,

he'd better go off and do something worthwhile with his life,

like cure some disease or invent a longer-lasting light bulb.

Well, to cut to the point,

he is successful in his mission.

Miller rescues Private Ryan,

but not without a cost.

He pays for the mission

with a bullet to the chest,

and he dies.

But as he dies,

he looks at the young Private Ryan

who he has just rescued,

and he says to him simply two words,

earn this,

earn this.

The film closes

some half a century later on

in Arlington National Cemetery

with a now elderly James Ryan

standing in front of the grave

of Captain John Miller,

reflecting on his life.

As he reflects on those words,

earn this,

earn this.

And as he looks on Miller's grave,

he says the following words,

Every day I think about those words

you said to me on that bridge.

I've tried to live my life

the best I could.

I hope that was enough.

And then with tears welling up in his eyes,

he turns with a sense of desperation

to his wife and says,

Tell me I'm a good man.

Tell me I'm a good man.

You see, this man,

and we're not told

exactly what he had done

since his rescue,

but clearly throughout his life

he had been desperately trying

to make it up

for the life that had been paid for his.

He had been hounded by those words,

earn this,

earn this.

And no matter how deep

he had dug into his moral conscience

to do the right thing

in as many situations as he could,

yet he was still haunted by those words,

earn this,

earn this.

history has proved itself

that the harder we try

to live a good life,

the more and more aware

we will become

of our imperfection.

And in Christian history,

we find time and time and time again

those great heroes of the church

who have actually found

that the harder they try

to live a good life,

the more they are confronted

with their own humanity

and their own brokenness

and failure.

You see,

if we seek to live a life

where we base it entirely

on our own moral instincts

with nothing else beyond,

we are left with that strange sense

of why, but what,

and this sense

of our own inadequacy.

There was once an oil refinery

and every year,

on one day of the year,

there was a tour

of that refinery

where people,

the members of the general public

can come and be shown

around the place.

One particular occasion

this was taking place,

they got to the end of the tour

and they opened up

for any questions.

One of the visitors said,

excuse me,

but could you show us

the dispatch depot?

The tour guide looked

with a sense of amusement

on his face.

He said, what do you mean?

The visitor said,

well, you've shown us

around the oil refinery,

but at no point

have you shown us

or do I remember

being shown a place

where all the oil

that is produced

in this place

gets put into tankers

and taken to the outside world.

Where is it?

The guide replied,

we don't have one.

He said, what do you mean?

He said, well,

all the oil that is refined

within this place

is used in this place

to keep it powered up

and running.

What you have there

is a picture

of what life

without faith in God

can be like.

That there's lots of activity,

lots of action,

lots of great stuff going on,

but for all of that,

very little sense

of the beyond,

of why,

of purpose,

of meaning.

And yet,

and yet for all that,

God is there,

regardless of whether

or not we recognise it.

One of my favourite

TV shows

was

shows,

programmes,

was Inspector Morse,

followed by Lewis.

I love those programmes.

One of the things

I love so much

about them

was that Colin Dexter,

he died a couple of years ago,

I think that the writer,

the creator of Inspector Morse,

would more often than not

actually be featured

in every,

I think he was,

in every single episode,

in a very small way.

So he might just be

in a background scene,

sat at a table

in a cafe

drinking a cup of coffee,

or he might be playing

one of the dons

in one of the Oxford colleges,

and he would just walk past

in the background.

But one of the things

I would really enjoy

about the programme

is looking out

for the author

of the story

to make his appearance

just in the background.

What I want to suggest

is that what you have there

is something of a picture

of our lives,

with the author

of our lives,

the God who has put

the capacity

to do what is good,

what is right,

what is true within us,

there in our lives.

That every time

we have that instinct

to reach out

and to do an act of kindness,

to do something

that is good

in our lives,

it is that author

that is present

in our lives

making that happen.

But you know,

we don't always recognise it.

We'll come back

to that shortly.

But having spent

a little while

thinking about

what a life of deeds

but with no faith

might look like,

let's turn it on its head

and think the other way round.

Might there be such a thing

as a life of faith

but without deeds?

Well, clearly yes,

because otherwise

what we just had read to us

from the book of James

would never have been written.

So what might it mean,

what might it look like

to talk of a life of faith,

Christian faith,

faith in God

but without deeds,

without action?

When I was a student

an embarrassingly long time ago now,

I can remember

that one of our university lecturers

defined a lecture

as the transference

of information

from the tutor's notebook

to the student's notebook

without passing through

the minds of either.

See, it is possible,

quite possible,

to take hold of information,

to give intellectual assent

to a set of propositions

without it really connecting.

Years ago,

in the old American West,

there was a little village

and a minister

was appointed

to the chapel

within that village.

And one day,

he was walking along

by the river

and to his horror,

he saw a number

of members

of his congregation

dragging logs

up from the river

up ashore.

On the end of the logs

was marked

the names

of the owners

of the logs.

And he was horrified

as he saw

his church members

taking saws

and cutting off

the ends of the logs

bearing the names

of the owners.

So he decided

the following Sunday

he would preach

a sermon

on the Ten Commandments.

As he did so,

he found himself

really majoring on

to the theme

Thou shalt not steal.

Got to the end

of the service,

all his parishioners

were leaving

and they all smiled

and shook hands

and said,

wonderful sermon,

thank you very much.

Clearly,

they had not got

the message.

So the following week

he preached

pretty much

exactly the same sermon

only this time

he excluded

the other nine commandments

but really drove home

the theme

Thou shalt not steal.

Again at the end,

very nice polite response.

Thank you,

Eka.

Week three

he preached

exactly the same sermon

only at the very end

instead of saying

Thou shalt not steal

he said

Thou shalt not cut

the ends

off thy neighbour's logs.

They ran him out of town.

Now maybe that exact story

and its details

don't chime

with our experience

but what I want to suggest

is the disconnect

is something

that we all need

to be challenged with.

The writer Craig Grouchel

from a couple of years ago

wrote a book called

The Christian Atheist

and in it

he warns

the danger

of purpeting

to hold

certain beliefs

about God

yet living our lives

as though

God doesn't exist.

You see

it's easy

to subscribe to

to pay lip service

to the God of grace

and yet refuse

to let hold

of that personal grudge

against another person.

It's too easy

to subscribe

to the God

of faithfulness

and promise

and yet trust

more

in money.

It's easy

to subscribe

to the God

of new beginnings

yet remain unconvinced

that you can

and will

break those old habits.

It's easy

to subscribe

to the God

who is sovereign

yet still worry

all the time.

It's easy

to subscribe

to the God

of forgiveness

of love

and yet continue

to linger

in guilt

and shame

from the past.

It's easy

to subscribe

to the God

who promises

he will never

forsake us

and yet for us

to pray

as though

it's some

religious chore.

It's easy

for us

to subscribe

to a God

of peace

and mercy

and compassion

and yet vent

aggressive outbursts

in our speech

or emails

or whatever.

It's easy

to subscribe

to the God

who wants everyone

to know of his love

yet do nothing

to share it

with others.

It's easy

to subscribe

to the God

whose love

is life transforming

yet fail

to recognise

that God

really does love

you.

Here's a question

for all of us.

If you were

to be arrested

and put on trial

for the charge

of being a Christian

would there be

enough evidence

to find you guilty?

You see

the reality

is all of us

all of us

have a certain

mismatch

a certain

disconnect

of some kind

in our lives.

It could be

that we have

a disconnect

in our lives

between what

the Bible teaches

about grace

and our own

habit of judging

others.

It could be

a disconnect

between what

the Bible teaches

about sexuality

and the reality

of our own

lifestyle.

It could be

the disconnect

between what

the Bible teaches

about compassion

and our own

half-heartedness

towards the poor.

You know,

very often

you'll hear people

say,

you know,

the church

is just full

of hypocrites.

You know,

it's not true.

We're not full

at all.

There's plenty

of room

for a few

more hypocrites.

Anyone can join.

And that's the point.

That's why we say

that it is good news

worth celebrating

because in Christ

God meets us.

Hypocrites

though we may be,

he meets us

where we are.

But part two

of that good news

is that he doesn't

expect to leave us

where we are.

You know,

Jesus was asked,

what's the most

important commandment

of all?

And he referred

back to

something known

in his Jewish

thought as the

Shema from the

Old Testament.

He said,

the love of the

Lord your God

with all your heart,

with all your soul,

with all your mind,

and with all your

strength.

And the second

is like it,

to love your

neighbour as

yourself.

You see,

we're back to

those optical,

those images

that we started

with at the

beginning.

You can't have

one without

the other.

But notice

that when Jesus

was questioned

on this,

he didn't say

love your neighbour

first,

he said,

love God

first.

Someone else

once said,

love Christ

and do whatever

you want.

You see,

when you have

the love of God

in your heart,

when you know

that he loves you

unconditionally,

when all is right

there,

action just falls

into place

quite naturally.

when you know

God loves you,

when you realise,

again to go back

to that picture

from Inspector

Morse with the

author of the

story present

within it,

when you realise

that God is there,

that he's been

there all along,

then transformation

can begin to

happen.

One last story.

There was a tiger

cub that was

orphaned,

and somehow

it's found its

way among

a herd of goats,

and it was

brought up as a

goat,

and therefore it

grew up believing

that it was a

goat.

It used to behave

in exactly the

same way as

these other

goats.

Well,

one day the

goats and this

tiger were in

the jungle grazing

in a clearing,

when suddenly a

king tiger ran

into the clearing

and roared.

Immediately,

without hesitation,

the goats ran

in all directions,

but the tiger

cub remained.

It looked at

the king tiger.

At first it

trembled,

but then it

realised it

didn't feel

strangely afraid,

as the goats

appeared to be.

The tiger cub,

rather like a goat,

bleated back

at the tiger.

The king tiger

stared at the

cub,

and eventually

picked up the

cub by the

scruff of its

neck and

dropped it next

to a pool.

And the cub

and the tiger

looked at their

reflections and

could see that

they were alike.

Still,

the tiger cub

didn't quite get

the message.

So the tiger

took some meat

and it dropped

it down in front

of the cub.

The cub began

to eat the

meat.

And then,

upon the

realisation

of its true

identity,

he roared.

The reality

is that God

actually

creates

each

and every

one of us

with the

desire that

each and

every one

of us

would have

faith

and action

as

inseparable

things,

as part

of what

it is to

be truly

human.

As we

come to

pray at

the beginning

of Lent

now,

let's just

bring our

lives before

God,

as we are

because we

can come

no other

way,

and let's

ask him

to come

alive in

us

once more,

that we,

like that

tiger,

may learn

to roar.