Must I have a heart for particular people before I can reach them?

It is a common enough objection to engaging in evangelistic outreach - "I don't really have a heart for that" or "that's not where my heart is". So, it seems a valid question to ask whether we need a specific "heart" for particular peoples and geographical areas before we can engage in evangelism?

In short, scripture speaks against this idea of requiring a heart for the work. Notably, Jesus did not caveat the great commission so it reads "go and make disciples of all those for whom you have a heart... those you particularly like". Rather, it reads "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit (Mt 28:19, ESV)". Significantly, Jesus continues and says "teaching them [those of whom you make disciples] to observe all that I have commanded you (Mt 28:20a, ESV)", which presumably includes this bit about going into all the world and making disciples. There was certainly no sense from Jesus that the apostles had to figure out for whom they had a real heart and to focus their attentions solely on them - they were told quite directly to reach all nations.

The book of Jonah frames this issue in an alternative way. The Lord commanded this prophet to go to Nineveh and, we can safely conclude from his response, Jonah did not have a heart for these people (Jon 1:3-16). In fact, Jonah so despised the people of Nineveh that he was prepared to die rather than reach them with God's message (Jon 1:12). Having been humbled by God and eventually taken the Lord's message of judgement to this city, Jonah is apoplectic when God relents at seeing Nineveh turn from its sin (Jon 4:1-3). Far worse than not "having a heart" for these people, Jonah wanted the city of Nineveh to be destroyed. He specifically did not want to take the Lord's message to them because he knew God was gracious and would relent from disaster were the people to repent. It is interesting that God saved a whole city despite the messenger holding the people in contempt and actively hoping for their destruction. It appears God can, and will, work even when our hearts are not really in it.

So, do we need a specific "heart" for peoples and areas before we can engage in reaching them? Scripture doesn't make this a caveat for evangelism. In fact, the Bible suggests we should reach whomever we have the ability to reach. Paul was clear about where his focus lay. He says:

For though I am free from all, I have made myself a servant to all, that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though not being myself under the law) that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (not being outside the law of God but under the law of Christ) that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, that I may share with them in its blessings (1 Cor 9:19-23).

Therefore, where opportunities are granted to us to share the gospel the question of whether we have "a heart" for the area or people should be moot. We should all have a heart for the lost, whomever they may be, because the Lord has a heart for them (2 Pet 3:9), just as he had a heart for us when he died to save us (Rom 5:8). 

Rowan Atkinson to face enquiry for Comic Relief sketch

The Guardian has reported Rowan Atkinson's Comic Relief sketch, which prompted more than 2,200 complaints to the BBC, is to be investigated by media regulator Ofcom. 

A quarter of the complaints lodged against the sketch were understood to be about religious offence prompting the BBC to apologise and remove it from iPlayer. Ofcom is understood to be investigating the programme on grounds of offensive language and generally accepted standards.

Frankly, the language hardly feels offensive. Far worse language is used in plenty of other pre-watershed programming where there are no complaints to be found. As for meeting 'generally accepted standards', one struggles to grasp of which standards the sketch fell foul. All in all, it was a fairly tame performance.

The key areas of consternation appear to be the statement that prayer "doesn't work", a supposed comparison of One Direction to the Disciples and a faux attempt to deal with a particularly crass interpretation of "Love your neighbour".

Let's be clear, this was a parody of a 'trendy vicar' type who had become Archbishop of Canterbury. One only needs to look at the Anglican Church to see that such persons exist and, with the departure of Rowan Williams, it was perfectly legitimate to imagine that one such person could take his place. 

As for the statements that seemed to offend, there are plenty of communicants and clergy in the Anglican Church who do believe that prayer "doesn't work". Whilst there may be many who disagree, perhaps even a majority, this doesn't take away the fact that such views do exist. To get upset that a fictional Archbishop articulated a genuine belief of many Anglican clergy seems somewhat foolish. More to the point, the joke only works because this is something that most people think an Archbishop wouldn't say (though might possibly believe). That seems like a perfectly legitimate observation to me.

The supposed comparison of One Direction to the Disciples is really no comparison at all. The joke is the parody, sadly all too often the case in reality (not only in Anglican Churches at that), of the vicar/minister desperately trying to appear 'relevant', 'in touch' and 'up to date' when they themselves are no such thing. The joke is that this fictional Archbishop is not up to date and therefore tries to shoehorn pop culture references into theological statements that simply do not stand. More to the point, the comment neither suggested that One Direction were in any way like the Disciples nor was it actually drawing a comparison. The "Archbishop" was making a reference to appear 'in touch' which simply did not follow and thus he was the butt of the joke. 

Similarly, the "love your neighbour" comment was a legitimate parody of the balancing act between usurping some language in a bid to appear 'trendy' whilst shunning other language as too vulgar. Again, it is an observable phenomenon in churches and therefore a perfectly legitimate target of observational humour.

In reality, Christians aren't doing themselves any favours in complaining about this sort of thing and it is always worth asking what exactly we are hoping to achieve. Of course, if you were genuinely offended then, as a license fee payer, you are entitled to voice that opinion to the BBC. However, aside from the apparent lack of anything which could be reasonably considered offensive, surely there are more important battles to be fought than bleating about an innocuous parody of a frankly all too observable type of clergyman?

Media silence on Gosnell makes a mockery of robust journalism and has knock-on effects for free speech

Although not widely reported in the mainstream media, the Gosnell infanticide case has been circulating in the blogosphere. If you are unaware of the details, there is a brief outline here.

The media silence has also been documented in the blogosphere. For example, see here, here and here. In the UK, the story was carried by the Daily Mail and Telegraph, limited to a single article by the BBC (which doesn't appear to have been linked to the homepage and only comes up with an active search on 'Gosnell') and ignored altogether by the Independent, Guardian and Times. As to how Christians ought to respond to this, Andy's Study has made some helpful suggestions.

The media silence on this makes a mockery of robust journalism. It is staggering that papers such as the Guardian will run stories like this without running stories like this. Such reporting hardly supports their advertisement which runs the tagline "the whole picture".

Worse still is the knock-on effect such journalism has on free speech. Whilst we pay lip service to free speech in this country, we increasingly remove topics from the agenda altogether that are simply not up for discussion. When the media refuse to run particular stories, they encourage this removal of discussion from the public forum and push alternative voices to the fringes. In many cases, these alternative views do not go away altogether but, being pushed out of the mainstream, find other outlets without any robust discussion of the view to hold them to account. In many respects, this makes it far easier for such voices to win people to their cause.

President Obama said in an address to the United Nations ‘…laudable efforts to restrict speech can become a tool to silence critics, or oppress minorities. The strongest weapon against hateful speech is not repression, it is more speech’. Rowan Atkinson said something similar in his support for the Reform Section 5 campaign. He commented:

For me, the best way to increase society’s resistance to insulting or offensive speech is to allow a lot more of it. As with childhood diseases, you can better resist those germs to which you have been exposed... if we want a robust society, we need more robust dialogue and that must include the right to insult or to offend.

However, media refusal to report legitimate stories, even where they do not tie in to their predisposed agenda, have real knock-on effects for free speech, those who may disagree and, consequently, those who agree as well.

Thatcher's funeral and the ultimate democracy

After this, this and this one wondered whether Giles Fraser was ever going to stumble upon something with which I can agree. Just when we may have given up hope, Fraser offers this astute theological observation in today's Guardian:

I have buried some extraordinary wrong 'uns in my time: crooks, murderers, wife-beaters and swindlers. But these funerals were never lies, because unlike a secular send-off, where the past virtues of the deceased necessarily take centre stage, the Christian funeral can leave all that stuff to God. It is not, first and foremost, the celebration of a life or the retelling of achievement. It is an unsentimental acknowledgment that death is the ultimate democracy. It comes to us all – the good and the bad, the rich and the poor, the powerful and the weak. And with death in a Christian context also comes a recognition that we are all subject to the mercy of God for our failings. "However families or states want to dress up and create an occasion, the heart of a funeral is very simple," was how Canon Mark Oakley put it in his sermon last Sunday at St Paul's.

He illustrated the point with reference to the funerals of Habsburg royalty. As the funeral procession approached the closed doors of the Imperial chapel in Vienna, a voice from inside would ask, "who is it?". The grand chamberlain would read out a long list of grand titles. The voice from the church then replied: "We know him not." The chamberlain would try again, with a shortened version, and received the same reply. Finally, the chamberlain knocks on the door. Again comes the question, "who is it?", and this time, eschewing all pomp and ceremony, he answers: "A sinner in need of God's mercy." "Him we know; enter," comes the reply.

Today is the one day that I will not be demonstrating or turning my back. For Thatcher and I share that final description: both of us failed, both in need of forgiveness. Its the ultimate human solidarity. And while I recognise that many find the language of sin and judgment increasingly uncongenial, it is nonetheless for precisely this reason that it is such a theological mistake to use her funeral as an occasion for grand political theatre, inviting comparisons with Winston Churchill. As the Habsburg funerals recognised, none of that makes any difference in the ultimate scheme of things.

Without God, final judgment becomes the domain of the crowd and the newspapers. I once asked the former archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, what he really wanted to say to Robert Mugabe before his trip to Zimbabwe, back in 2010. The archbishop looked up from his drink, and dropped his voice: "There is no immunity from prosecution when you are dead," he said. And no, this column is not deliberately putting Margaret Thatcher in the company of thieves and dictators to make a political point. I'm putting us all in that company to make a theological one.

Fraser's point is a biblical one. Death is the ultimate leveller from which none of us escape. As the writer to the Hebrews states, "it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment (9:27, ESV)". Indeed, Peter makes clear that we will all have to stand before a holy God and give account of our lives (see 1 Pet. 4:17f).

Nevertheless, Paul comments:

all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God's righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus (Rom. 3:23-26, ESV)

Fraser is quite correct that we must rely on God's mercy when we stand before Him in the judgment. However, if our reliance on God's mercy is a mere hope we will simply be let off the hook, then we have entirely failed to grasp the nature of God's justice. On the other hand, if we are relying on the redemptive work of Jesus we have good grounds to receive God's mercy. For, in Jesus, God punished the sin of those who receive Christ by faith and there is nothing more to be paid. This meets God's justice whilst simultaneously allowing God to show mercy to the sinner. Thus God is both just - by actually punishing sin in Christ - as well as the justifier, by his grace, of the one who has faith in Jesus.

Therefore the Christian has nothing to fear in death. As the writer to the Hebrews goes on, having spoken of the inevitability of death and judgment, he comments "so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him (Heb. 9:28, ESV)". 

Why I do not accept Thatcher was motivated by Christian principles

Archbishop Cranmer has commented today that "Margaret Thatcher renewed the relationship between Christianity and Conservatism". He claims that Thatcher's "Conservatism was deeply rooted in Christianity" and argues "Christ, for her, was intrinsic to all of social and political life, and His eradication from society was not possible 'without a terrible consequence'". He insists "Margaret Thatcher did God with a sincere reflective and profoundly theological mindset: she read her Bible, preached in pulpits and applied her theology to her programme of government". In short, he argues, Margaret Thatcher was a Christian and it was her Christian principle that informed her Conservatism.

I cannot, and do not, accept this assessment. Even by Cranmer's own admission:

For centuries preceding Margaret Thatcher, the Church of England had been 'the Conservative Party at prayer'. The maxim endured until the mid-80s, during which decade the tensions between the Church and the Conservative Party were considered to have buried the whole notion. The Tory-Anglican relationship undoubtedly reached its nadir during her premiership...

Whilst it would be theologically and ecclesiastically illiterate to associate Christianity with Anglicanism alone, it is significant that the Anglican church - a traditionally Conservative-supporting institution - openly turned away from the Conservative Party under Thatcher. The notion of the Anglican Church being the "Conservative Party at prayer" was undone by Thatcher. Specifically, the Church viewed Thatcherite approaches to the poor and vulnerable as fundamentally unscriptural.

It is possible to concede that Margaret Thatcher held to some form of cultural Christianity. However, Matthew Parris hardly gives the impression that Thatcher held to the truths of orthodox Christianity. He states:

20 years ago, I handed her [Margaret Thatcher] (as her correspondence clerk) a letter from a lady unknown to her, who had just lost her husband. It would be a great comfort (she told Mrs Thatcher) to know that she would see him again one day in Heaven; and as she had great respect for Mrs Thatcher, it would strengthen her faith if she could know that Mrs Thatcher, too, believed in the Life Hereafter.

This was not an inquiry I could answer on the Conservative leader's behalf. Her advice came back to me the next morning in the form of her personal, handwritten letter to our correspondent. Her answer consisted in a single, chilling sentence. "Christians believe in the after-life, and I am a Christian."

I'm afraid I took that as a No. Or at least a Don't Know. And it sparked an interest that I've pursued ever since, in the real as opposed to stated metaphysical beliefs of British political leaders.

Parris is apt to view Mrs Thatcher's self-designation as a Christian - especially in light of her less than equivocal claim to belief in orthodoxy - as somewhat questionable. 

Equally, scripture itself speaks against Cranmer's claim. Firstly, there is Thatcher's now infamous comment:

...there is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women, and there are families. And no government can do anything except through people, and people must look to themselves first. It's our duty to look after ourselves and then, also to look after our neighbour. People have got the entitlements too much in mind, without the obligations. There's no such thing as entitlement, unless someone has first met an obligation.

Such a statement is clearly antithetical to the biblical writings (see Deut 15:11; Prov 11:25, 14:21; Luke 6:27-36, 38; Philippians 2:3; Galatians 5:13-15; Hebrews 13:16; 1 Jn 3:17-18;  et al). The bible is clear that there is such a thing as society and the Christian is not simply supposed to look after me and mine. Instead, the Christian is to prefer the needs of others above their own. The position above, espoused by Thatcher, in no way accords with scripture or Christian principle. 

Similarly, Thatcherite policies toward the poor and vulnerable do little to suggest an approach influenced by these scriptural writings. The right-to-buy scheme appeared to put the desires of those who could afford to buy a home above the needs of those who couldn't afford to rent one. The call of Luke 6:31 appears to have been ignored when one compares her own ousting from power with her approach to the pit closures and privatisation redundancies over which she presided. The callous approach to those who lost jobs during the period does not accord with scriptural calls to look after the poor and needy.

Apart from social policy, Thatcherism - backed in many ways by Reaganomics - encouraged a mentality, encapsulated by Gordon Gekko in the film Wall Street,  which says "greed is good". Even a brief look at the New Testament writings could not lead you to such a conclusion. Yet Thatcherism encouraged private ownership, supported grasping at profit and stoked the base desire to hoard personal wealth.

Looking at the evidence, it seems hard to uphold that Margaret Thatcher was motivated by Christian principles and her Conservatism was rooted in Christianity.

Church climbing, pride and why I'm not like you

Church climbing is a particularly repellent activity. Treating the church as though there is some sort of greasy pole to climb really irritates me. The people that do this are not difficult to spot and are replete in our churches. 

I am sure we all know the sorts I mean - you can spot them a mile off. They are the ones looking for position in the church, those desperately hoping to catch the eye of elders and ministers. They shoehorn theological training into conversation, the places they have preached are mentioned apropos of nothing and, serendipitously, their latest set of sermon notes happen to fall out of their bible right in front of the minister. If they are musical, they happen to be at the piano after the service, just 'messing around' of course. They name-drop in the hope you may know and respect the people with whom they are connected. They are networkers, talking to all and sundry without ever really finding out about, or listening to, those whom they are speaking. They ask you about these same things to find out where you stand in the church pecking order. They cosy up to those who can get them on and laud it over those they perceive as inferior. They are the proud, superior church climbers seeking position and recognition.

It seems clear that this is nothing short of pride. It is a pride that assumes theological training is the same as knowledge and wisdom. It presumes you do not have training, or your training is worse than mine, so I understand things on a level you do not. It says I have experience in preaching, missions, childrens' work, music, or whatever, that really set me apart from others. It thinks, if others really knew about my background, education and abilities they would see that I really should be given position in the church. In fact, I really should be leading things in some way. Of course, these people never quite frame it in this way. Nevertheless, that is essentially the heart of this sort of self-promotion. It's the idea, if people really knew what I can do/have done, it's just obvious that I am the best person for the job. That is the heart of it and it is an ugly, repellent sin.

Now, I accept, I may have mentioned some of these things during conversations in church. Of course, when I do it, I'm not showing off and am certainly not seeking position in the church. When I raise these things it is because I want to be useful in the church and, how can I best be used if people don't know my experience, background and training? I'm not being proud when I claim my qualifications outflank yours, I'm just stating a fact acknowledged throughout academia. When I talk about my years of experience in preaching and missions I'm just highlighting that I may be able to serve the church in this way. The difference between me and you is: I'm not church climbing, I'm just factually stating my experience. Nevertheless, even though theological training, preaching experience and background in missions are never mentioned as a qualification for office in the church, it's pretty clear once you know these things about me I should be in the running. I'm not being proud, I'm just trying to make the most of my gifts and serve the church as best I can.

I'm not a church climber. It's just that, when all is said and done, my experience and training put me in a strong position to serve the church. In fact, I could serve the church all the more if I am given an office and it's pretty clear my experience lends itself to that. I am being servant hearted, trying to use all my gifts where they will best be utilised by the church. When you do it, you're being proud and grasping at position - that's obvious. When I do it, I'm really serving the church and seeking to make the most of my gifts. When you do it, you are a proud church climber. When I do it, I'm being a humble servant of the church. 

That is presumably why I find church climbing so irritating and offensive. If you really understood things the way I do, you would see how much more qualified I am than you for position in the church. You go about crassly stating your experience and qualification in the hope of a role for which you are clearly ruled out both inherently, by your pride, and comparatively, compared to me. I, on the other hand, just make known these things because, of course, the facts will speak for themselves.

When you do it, you're a proud, arrogant, misguided church climber. When I do it, I'm a humble, servant-hearted individual seeking to serve the church as best I am able. When you do it, it's definitely a sin, we all see that. When I do it, and if I'm given a role, it's for the church's good.