In his steps

I remember, as a young boy, walking over the Yorkshire moors in winter with my dad. In case you weren't aware, the moors in winter are covered with a white blanket of snow. The landscape is stark and beautiful, the air is crisp and cold, and when you breathe out through your mouth you can see your breath, when you breathe in too deeply it sears your lungs.

I walked with my dad. Often, for fun, I walked behind him and, to maintain the untouched purity of the landscape, placed my little feet in his footsteps. That way it seemed that not only were we the only people around, but there was only one person trekking across the moors. My dad laughed at my escapade, thinking I just wanted to be like him (which I did), but to me there was something beautiful in the sea of white marred only by a single line of foot prints.

This is the memory that came to mind as I reflected on the scriptures for our faith community leading up to Good Friday. It's an odd memory for Easter, but it revolves around that disturbing passage in 1 Peter 2:21, "To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps."

The context is that of suffering for being a Christian, something millions across the globe endure, but mostly, we in the West are free from. The church as a whole seems to have taken one of two extreme positions on this verse, both of which distort the New Testament depiction of the Christian life. The first is that to be a Christian is to suffer, and we should embrace and celebrate suffering. In the first century, despite the revisionist history that is present today, the reality was that to be a Christian meant, for the most part, suffering.

Jesus clearly indicated that whilst in this world there would be trouble, that the Christian walk was a difficult one, and that his followers would have a 'cross' to bear. But he, and the other New Testament writers, also describe a life of joy, peace, overcoming, freedom, acceptance, and soul-nourishing community.

The other end of the spectrum ignores the realities of this verse, or at least diminishes them, and presents the Christian life of one of untold 'blessing' and extravagant prosperity. To follow Jesus, in this reinterpretation of New Testament Christianity, knows nothing of taking up the cross and following in his steps of enduring and identifying with the suffering and oppressed. Rather it presents the Christian life of one where God intends for everyone to be rich and healthy and uncompromisingly successful in all they do.

Neither of these perspectives represents the Christian walk to which Christ calls us or that expressed in the New Testament. Neither engages with the core of this verse in 1 Peter and the power to transform our lives and communities.

The underlying theology of this verse recognises that in the suffering of Christ and the struggles of his followers in this fallen world God has and is birthing the new creation, the kingdom of God, that will one day be consummated with the return of the King - Jesus. Paul powerfully describes this in Romans 8 where he compares the Christian life to the birth pains a woman experiences in labour. This is powerful because not only does it indicate that we are participants in the story of God bringing the new creation but, like Jesus, we live in the reality of confident expectation of the resurrection.

This is where the Easter story collides powerfully with the command to follow in his steps. Good Friday was Christ suffering with and for his creation, but with the expectation of resurrection on the Sunday. His death both birthed a new reality, a new creation, a new way of being human in this world, and promised the experience of a future hope now. To follow in his steps is to endure the challenges, the difficulties, the struggles of this life. To overcome some and to endure others. To resist injustice and oppression and to demonstrate forgiveness and grace and love. And in doing so, in following in his steps, every believer participates in some way in the reality and promise of his kingdom, in the hope and presence of a new way of living, and in the shadow of the cross and the transformative power of the empty tomb.

Imagine the Yorkshire moors in winter. Imagine the pristine, white snow, marred only by that single line of footprints. Imagine that, instead of the stark beauty of the landscape, the image represents the cold, harsh, difficult 'lostness' of a world that is desperately hoping for the promise of new life, a new way being that is just and free and peaceful and, well, warm.

Imagine now those steps, those perfect, pristine steps first walked by Christ. And now imagine hundreds and thousands of others seeking to walk, imperfectly and often stumbling, in those steps. The imperfections actually widen the breadth of the steps, disturb more of the snow, create a path that draws us ever closer to the centre, to the first steps of Jesus. Imagine the steps of followers of Christ across the globe who are struggling and enduring and overcoming and all the while carrying the light and hope and reality of the resurrection.

The power of Easter is a man hanging on a cross, an empty tomb, and the invitation to all to participate in this great story, this great promise that one day it will all be different.

And one day starts today.

Holes

I was having a bad day, you know, one of those days when you just wonder what it’s all about anyway. You’ll probably tell me you don’t have days like that, I’ll know you do.

Circumstances and situations had combined to get me down and leave me despondent. So I sat down with my best friend (my wife) and just poured it all out. At the end she gave me some perspective and reminded me of some positives. My reply went something like this, “Yeah, but darlin’, you know me as well as I know me, possibly better. You know my weaknesses and flaws, the holes in my character. I just don’t know I’m the person I should be.”

Her reply was brilliant, “It’s not the holes honey, it’s the solid bits around the holes, that’s what makes the difference.”

The solid bits around the holes.

We all have holes, parts of ourselves and our lives that aren’t up to scratch. We all have flaws, weaknesses, areas of struggle and difficulty. We all know we could be and do so much more if it wasn’t for these aspects of ourselves. And yes, they are real; and yes, they need work - but so long as there are solid bits around them we have the resource and capacity to do that work and grow and achieve.

I’m not having a day like that day right now, and although I can acknowledge the holes, I can also appreciate the solid parts of me that surround the holes. I think that one of the important activities of life is to recognise and strengthen the solid areas and in doing so reduce the holes - fill them in. Sometimes that requires actively filling them in, but often it’s a case of building on our strengths and that can reduce some of the holes along the way.

I like cheese. I like cheese a little too much. I love a good triple cream brie, a soft and flavoursome camembert, a sharp and tangy matured cheddar, a strong and pungent blue, or a sweetish, nutty swiss, complete with holes. But here’s the thing, it isn’t the holes I enjoy, they are nothing, it’s the bits around the holes, the actual cheese, the part that holds the flavour. Are you getting the metaphor? The holes don’t make me who I am, they are just there, and although unlike cheese they actually do play a part in my personality, the essence of who I am resides in the bits around the holes - the good bits, the bits that contribute to family and community, the bits that add to who I am rather than detract from who I am.

In Christian-speak we might call this growing in Christlikeness, in secular-speak (ok, so I made that desciptor up) we might call it personal growth. Both ‘speaks’ have the same intent, growing more human, becoming more like who we and everyone else wishes we all were. Biblically we talk about humanity being made in the image of God, but we have seen that image damaged, distorted, cracked, yet Jesus shows us what that image should look like and the journey of faith is to respond to the work of the Spirit to conform to his image, to re-image God in our lives.

Tom Wright has a concept of what this looks like that resonates with me. He says that if Jesus is the perfect human, then the journey to image him is to become more human. However, for people who embrace the opposite of the values and virtues imaged in Christ (hate, envy, greed, injustice, unforgiveness etc.), they are, in effect, de-humanising themselves. It’s an interesting thought. It means that everyone is somewhere on the spectrum, everyone is somewhere on the journey. It means that when the holes are growing I’m heading in the wrong direction, but when the bits around the holes are strengthening and increasing, I am growing as a person and into what we were always intended to be.

We all have holes. It’s damaging if we focus too much on the holes, or if we ignore them. They are there, they don’t, however, define us. The holes themselves are actually only defined by the bits around them. So acknowledge the holes, but give thanks and appreciate the bits around them and, like me, give attention to the journey of becoming the kind of human being we all wish we were.

This world needs more people like that.

Never too Old

I had breakfast with a friend last week who just doesn’t seem to age. Now, whether that is because he looked old ten years ago, or looks young now is open to discussion -  but he just doesn’t seem to change!

He looks after himself, goes to the gym, watches what he eats and maintains a youthful, positive outlook on life. But I think the main point is that he just doesn’t allow the advancing years to change him. He continues to face the possibility and challenge of each day with with a positive attitude and a realistic understanding of his gifts and limitations.

This reminded me that in many ways age is no limiter of our enjoyment and achievement in life. Yes, there are some things that certainly do change, which is where being realistic comes in, but age is all too often allowed to be an artificial boundary to the things we can accomplish. I know people who are ‘old’ in their thirties and others who are ‘young’ in their sixties. Age isn’t ‘just a number,’ but it certainly doesn’t have to define who we are or what we do.

Our faith community has been going through the beginning of Luke’s gospel and we noticed something interesting: both Mary and Elizabeth had miraculous births, and both women were at opposite ends of the age spectrum. In all probability Mary was a teenager when she conceived Jesus by the Holy Spirit, and Elizabeth was past the age of child-bearing when she conceived John. God used the young and the old to accomplish his redemptive purpose.

We live in a culture that celebrates - almost idolises - youth. And that’s ok. I love the energy, creativity and expectancy that comes with youth. I seek to be open to new ideas and concepts, to embrace change, and to understand my faith with tradition rather than through tradition. There are many positives to our youth culture, and there are some aspects that need consideration. What is apparent, from the story of God and his interactions with his creation, is that age has no meaning to his purposes and work in and through our lives.

Joseph, Daniel, David, Mary, John the Baptist, the disciples (who were all probably teenagers) and Timothy are all young people who were prominent in the Bible; Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Noah, Caleb, Zechariah and Elizabeth are all people of more advanced years whom God used. Age is immaterial to him, you’re never too old.

We recently watched the movie, ‘The Butler’ about a man who works as a butler at the White House for various administrations from Eisenhower to Reagan. It’s a good story, and a good movie, and without giving anything away (I hope), at the end illustrates that no matter how old a person is, they can take a stand and make a difference.

Age brings certain limitations to most people, but our culture often imposes artificial limitations on us because of our age that are just that, artificial. Wether you are in your twenties, forties, sixties or whatever, as someone created in the image of a God who all to often defies the concept of age limitation, you have the capacity to create, achieve and explore all that life offers.

I know a lady, a remarkable lady, whose attitude to life is refreshing and who doesn’t allow her age (older than me) to define her or her enjoyment of life. She embraces life and new experiences with humour, curiosity and flexibility - despite the fact that she claims she doesn’t like change!

In one respect, age really is only a number. It is a number that proves that you’re never too young, and you’re never too old. Every one of us has at least one more great adventure left in us.

What’s yours?