Author: David McKay

It would be dangerously easy.

Just look at what is happening in society around us. The legalisation of ‘gay marriage’. Increasing pressure for acceptance of physician-assisted suicide, along with the inevitable redefinition of the role of doctors in relation to seriously ill patients. An acceptance of three-parent children – the products of techniques resulting from amazing advances in genetics. These developments – and more – show how far the nation has drifted from even a token acknowledgement of biblical ethical standards, standards which once were accepted almost without question even by those not personally committed to the Christian faith. Even in a conservative place like Northern Ireland, the same trends are evident, and as one local politician, himself a Christian, commented in a recent conversation: if the decisions here on moral issues were being made by the under 25s, the Christian position would lose every time.

It would be dangerously easy in circumstances like these to slip, or even leap, into self-righteousness. It can seem so obvious that those who hold to biblical standards are ‘better’ than others. They have not capitulated to the forces of evil. They have held the line. They have been faithful. Surely they must be spiritually superior to others and God must be pleased with them. And if we are honest, sometimes it’s not ‘they’ who are self-righteous – ‘we’ are. Though we might never say it out loud, in our hearts we may echo the Pharisee’s address to God, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men – robbers, evil-doers, adulterers – or even like this tax collector’ (Luke 18:11).

It’s sobering to see ourselves in the mirror of the Pharisees. Here were men who knew and loved the law of God, who could recite vast tracts of it from memory, who loved to discuss the practicalities of its application. These were men who took the greatest of care to observe the regulations for life that God had given, and in meticulous detail. They hated the sins that they could see around them and would have been at the forefront of campaigns to preserve moral standards. All well and good, but there was one fatal flaw: they ‘trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt’ (Luke 18:9).

That was the Pharisees’ problem. They did not really look at their hearts and so recognise their true spiritual condition. Considering only the sins visible outwardly, most could tell themselves that, since they were not doing those things, they were moral, even godly, people, people who satisfied God’s requirements. The truth, however, was powerfully exposed by Jesus: ‘These people honour me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me’ (Mark 7:6). They were sinners, just as much as any tax collector, even if their sins were ‘respectable’ or hidden. In fact, if they had really given due attention to the demands of God’s law, they would have found their hearts being searched and their sin exposed, because, as Jesus showed in the Sermon on the Mount, the law addresses the heart.

It is dangerously easy to settle for the outward, a lot less uncomfortable, and yet the result is a self-righteousness that is offensive to God and that is also repulsive to the watching world. Many non-Christians are convinced that Christians are self-righteous hypocrites: sadly they sometimes don’t have to look far for the evidence.

The only solution is to focus on the glorious grace of God that brought Christ to die for us ‘while we were still sinners’ (Romans 5:8), sinners who apart from grace would never have been any different. We need to recognise that the answer to Paul’s question, ‘What do you have that you did not receive?’ (I Corinthians 4:7) is ‘Nothing’. We never accumulate merit before God: we will always be totally dependent on grace. We are not to be silent or inactive regarding the great moral and spiritual battles being fought out around us, but we must engage in them in a humble spirit, dependent on grace and free from self-righteousness. They we really will not be like other men, and God will have all the glory.

Are you happy? For many people that’s the big question. We live in a society where often the highest value to pursue is happiness. The most significant goal in life, we are told, is the enjoyment of pleasure and the avoidance of pain. It’s not a new philosophy – a version of it was formulated by the ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus – but modern knowledge and technology offer so many more possibilities for pursuing it than ever before. The pursuit of happiness lies at the heart of much of the advertising industry. If you buy this car, this holiday, this gadget, this cosmetic, this snack, you will be a happier person, maybe even a better person. In Sydney, Australia, there is a ‘Happiness Institute’, whose approach to living is summed up in the slogan ‘Life’s too short not to be happy’. Among the ‘12 things you should start making time for…now!’ are, according to one of the Institute’s blogs, ‘taking better care of yourself’ and ‘Getting lost in playful exploration’. Plenty of good self-help advice about the road to greater happiness.

So why not? Who would willingly choose unhappiness? We’re not masochists, after all. Happiness isn’t to be despised, and yet when it becomes the centre of life, and indeed the driving force of a culture, there will be problems. Some psychologists and sociologists are beginning to sound an alarm about the ‘happiness society’ where the unpleasant aspects of life are denied, disguised, hidden away or ignored. They are suggesting that we are producing generations of people who are increasingly unable to cope with the hard experiences that life will inevitably bring – sadness, loss, disappointment, loneliness, fear. The idolising of happiness has resulted for many in an inability to face, for example, the grief that, sooner or later, will be their lot. They are ill-equipped for what lies ahead. The positive-thinking self-help industry has back-fired and left many with no resources when the hard times hit.

The Christian perspective, on this as on so many issues, is very different from what our culture accepts. In John 16:33 the Lord warns his disciples, ‘In the world you will have tribulation’. The word suggests pressure and crushing – the sensations experienced by those in the midst of trying experiences. The Lord’s disciples are warned that they will face hard times, and the New Testament, as well as Christian experience, demonstrates that Christians face all the ‘ordinary’ difficulties of life that are the lot of every human being and in addition the specific costs of discipleship, the ‘cross bearing’ that Christ speaks of on a number of occasions. The Christian’s perspective on life, far from being a rose-tinted escape from reality as it is often caricatured, is utterly clear-sighted and totally realistic. There is no pious hiding from the hard experiences, if we take Christ’s words seriously.

We are not left there, however. Christ goes on the give us words of hope and encouragement: ‘take heart: I have overcome the world.’ In the cross and the empty tomb the decisive victory has been won by the Saviour over all the forces that hold us in bondage. In union with him by faith we share in that victory which shapes all our thoughts and attitudes, and consequently our actions. The resources have been provided for dealing with the hard experiences that God in his providence sends to his people. We really do have ‘everything we need for life and godliness’ (2 Peter 1:3).
We are exhorted in James 1:2 to ‘count it all joy’ when we face all kinds of trials. Note ‘all joy’, not ‘all happiness’. The difference is significant. Happiness comes and goes. It depends on all kinds of factors both within ourselves and in outward circumstances. Joy, on the other hand, is the product of grace. It has as its focus the purpose of God that is being worked out in our testing experiences as he makes us more like his Son. It can coexist with pain, sorrow, loss, disappointment. The world cannot give joy nor can it take joy away. Happiness is not to be despised, but Christian joy equips us for life as it really is.

I don’t suppose it was much of a surprise that the talks facilitated by Richard Haass and Meghan O’Sullivan failed to establish an agreement among Northern Ireland politicians on the contentious issues which have recently highlighted the deep divisions still festering in the Province. Is it too cynical to suggest that an agreement would have been more surprising than the current impasse? Certainly few of us needed to be told that there are still some things that have not changed in the years since the Good Friday Agreement.

Parades, flags and the past: three stumbling blocks that still have the potential to cause much conflict. A trip past the Loyalist protest camp in North Belfast, just across the roundabout from the Nationalists, any night of the week (that there isn’t a good football match on TV), will soon show the kind of problem that has to be addressed. And it isn’t simply a matter of sorting out the extremists of all political colours whose views might be dismissed as exceptional and not worth serious attention. What do we do about the past in Northern Ireland? Thousands of people bear the scars, physical and mental, of the violence that exploded into the national consciousness in 1968 and blazed on until 1998, and indeed has not entirely gone away even yet. Many have lost loved ones in hideous atrocities; others have suffered themselves as the result of profoundly evil actions. They carry burdens that they will never lay down as long as they live. Numerous others carry the guilt of involvement in inflicting suffering which no amount of denial can remove.

Establishing one’s identity and addressing the burdens of the past lie at the heart of much of the present deadlock. Is there anything that Christians can say that could contribute to a solution? At the political level there are some Christians involved in the discussion process, but they don’t necessarily agree with each other, and that’s before we take into account those who regard Christianity as part of the problem rather than the solution. Maybe a meaningful Christian contribution would offer perspectives that politics knows little about?

What is the most important element in our identity? Is it what political party we support (if any), what school we attended, which language we prefer, where our forefathers came from? None of those things is unimportant, but they all pale into insignificance in comparison to the question as to where we stand in relation to the God who created us. Are we in fellowship with him through faith in Christ or are we still steeped in the rebellion in which we were born? That’s fundamental to our identity. We were created for fellowship with God: until we have that relationship, by his grace, we are never going to understand who we are and what we are in this world for. If we do have that fellowship, we are God’s dearly loved children, and we can see that the things of this world that provide others with their sense of identity are not quite as significant as perhaps we once thought.

To be a member of God’s family through the saving work of the Lord Jesus Christ also means that for us the past has been dealt with. God has forgiven our sin because of what Christ has done in taking our sin and its penalty upon himself at the cross. We are set free from guilt, we are reconciled to God and by the enabling of the Holy Spirit we can begin to forgive others. There is ultimately no other way to deal satisfactorily with the past. No political mechanism or piece of social engineering can change the human heart: only the grace of God can. Indeed had it not been the case that many who suffered terribly in the Troubles had experienced that life-changing grace themselves, the cycle of violent retaliation would probably have been much worse over the years. We might quibble over the theology of ‘forgiving’ those who have not repented, but the spirit of forgiveness that many showed points the way, God’s way, to dealing with the past.

In 2 Corinthians 5:17 Paul writes, ‘Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.’ There is where we find the only identity that is of eternal significance and there too we find the answer to the past, in regard both to what we have done and to what has been done to us. It also offers a hope for the future that transforms daily living into loving service for the God who has saved us. Perhaps a motive to preach rather than parade?

In a crisis it is a precious thing to have the support of those who love us. It makes even the worst situation easier to bear if we know we are not alone. The greatest comfort for the Christian is that God is with us, whatever the trial. Even when human help fails, as it sometimes will, we always have the presence of our loving heavenly Father to support us.

Hence it comes as a tremendous shock in reading the accounts of the death of Jesus, the one whom we believe to be, in a unique sense, the Son of God, to encounter the heart-rending words recorded in Matthew 27:46: ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ These words are puzzling, disturbing, even frightening. What do they signify?

This cry from Jesus’ lips speaks starkly of his sense of abandonment. We must take it with full seriousness, not attempting to blunt its force as some well-meaning writers do. Jesus does not merely feel abandoned (whilst in fact he is not). In some sense the Saviour was truly forsaken. It is a heart cry that expresses the real agony of God-forsakenness. Jesus uses the words of Psalm 22 that vividly and prophetically depict extreme suffering and that are clearly fulfilled in what he now suffers. These words best express the Saviour’s experience.

Crucifixion entailed great physical and emotional pain. The body was wracked with pain as the victim slowly died of shock and suffocation. As he died he was exposed to the gaze of passers-by, shamed and humiliated. Jesus experienced all this suffering in full measure, but more is involved here. The deepest source of agony is his sense of being forsaken by God. Martyrs have died bravely because of a sense of God’s presence: Jesus cries out because of his sense of God’s absence.

There are, we have to recognise, mysteries here that we cannot fathom and probably never will. We have to maintain that his divine nature could not be abandoned by the Father, otherwise there would be an unthinkable division within the Trinity and the unity of God would be destroyed. It must be his human nature that experiences abandonment (although still upheld by the Spirit – Hebrews 9:14). In a real sense the Father turned his back on his beloved Son, withdrawing the sense of his presence. Note however that even in the depths Jesus still addresses him as ‘my God’, the one to whom he clings.

The fact that Father and Son love each other perfectly indicates that this God-forsakenness was essential to fulfil God’s purpose – nothing else could suffice. The New Testament shows that Jesus’ suffering was necessary to secure salvation for sinners. The wonder of God’s grace is seen here clearly, yet in the most unexpected place. On the cross Jesus was the sin-bearer. He who knew no sin was made to be sin for sinners like us (2 Corinthians 5:21). He was the substitute for sinners, the Lamb of God who was taking away the sin of the world (John 1:29). His cry of forsakenness tells us that at the cross Jesus was bearing sin and all its consequences on behalf of his people. He paid the price of redemption for those who deserved divine punishment. Paul’s words in Galatians 3:13 are very specific: ‘Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law’. Law-breakers are under the wrath and curse of a holy God. This was symbolised by the three hours of darkness at Calvary (v45). In that darkness Jesus took our curse upon himself. This involved abandonment by the God who cannot look on sin (Habakkuk 1:13). Though he never ceased to love his Son, the Father could not look upon him as he bore our curse. The pure soul of Jesus too was revolted by sin and was in agony at his abandonment, yet he ‘loved me and gave himself for me’ (Galatians 2:20). He was a ‘propitiation’ (eg 1 John 4:10) – a sacrifice that turns away the wrath of God.

Note Hebrews 12:2 ‘for the joy set before him’. Jesus fulfilled the Father’s will and ‘obtained eternal redemption’ (Hebrews 9:12). Thus his enduring abandonment secured full salvation for his people. In particular the righteous demands of God’s law were satisfied and his wrath and curse were removed from us. Thus ‘there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus’ (Romans 8:1). Jesus carried the entire burden of sin in the darkness of Calvary and we need have no fear of eternal wrath. Though God chastens us for sin, the punishment has been taken for us by Christ. Because Jesus suffered God-forsakenness, God now says to us ‘never will I forsake you’ (Hebrews 13:5), a truth to fill us with joy, thanksgiving and confidence in the Lord.

You couldn’t miss it. Well, I suppose, really, you couldn’t get away from it. Going abroad was no use – there were few accessible corners of the globe where you would have been safe. A prince was born! After all the waiting and speculation, George finally entered the world to begin life in the spotlight and the flash of cameras.

Of course, it will be a life of privilege. His parents may be careful not to give him everything he wants – they are fools if they indulge his every desire – but his life will be very different from that of most other children anywhere in the world, and light years away from the struggles and hardships of millions. By most measurements George will have privileges and opportunities in abundance. Many will envy him his position.

And yet it will all come at a price. However carefully his privacy is guarded in his early years, the media and the public will be hungry for every scrap of information, however trivial. The paparazzi will be desperate to get unauthorised photos which will be worth a fortune in some quarters – just ask George’s mother. As he grows up every thing he does and every word he speaks will be analysed and interpreted, or misinterpreted. Inevitably there will be the George the public thinks it knows, and there will be the real George, perhaps very different, perhaps afraid to be himself. A high price to pay for privilege. Too high, many of us might think.

Of course among the headlines we had ‘Born to be King’ and all sorts of variations on the theme, and of course the lives and characters of the six British kings called George occupied a few pages in the papers and on the Internet. None of the ‘historical’ analysis told us anything about Prince George or what kind of man he will be, let alone what kind of king.

And for all we know, he never will be king. Life is very fragile and very uncertain. His grandfather has not yet been made king – will he ever be? His father has not yet been made king. For all kinds of reasons, George may never be. He’s only human, like the rest of us, and his life is not in his own hands.

In fact, his life, and every breath he will breathe, is in the hands of One who truly was ‘born to be king’ and who is king. He is the One who is King of kings, and Lord of lords (Revelation 19:16).

This King began life not in a top class hospital, to move on to life in a royal palace. Instead he was born in the humblest of circumstances, became a refugee and for much of his short life lived in obscurity. No different, in fact, from multitudes of babies before and after him. Yet he was unique.

This baby was a miracle. Not simply because of his virgin conception, but because here in this child the eternal Son of God had taken human nature into union with his divine nature. He was – and is – God and man in one person. In words whose depths we can never plumb, John tells us, ‘The Word became flesh’ (John 1:14). The Creator, the One who spoke the words that brought all things into existence (Genesis 1), shares our human nature, with the sole exception of our sin.

Born to be King – and born to die. This King secures the salvation of his people by humbling himself to the lowest place of death on a Roman cross (Philippians 2) and rises triumphant, having completed the mission entrusted to him by his Father. This is the One who can say ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me’ (Matthew 28:18). He reigns, not over one nation, but over the entire universe, until all his enemies are put under his feet. He demands the allegiance and obedience of every man and woman, and will call all to account. No corner of life is beyond his authority and his people are to give him joyful and willing obedience. All will stand before him – Prince George, his father, his grandfather, his great-grandmother, and all of us. ‘Kiss the Son, lest he be angry and you be destroyed in your way, for his wrath can flare up in a moment. Blessed be all who take refuge in him’ (Psalm 2:12).

Recent controversies about the closure of residential homes for the elderly by several Health Boards in Northern Ireland have highlighted once again some of the problems of growing old. Whatever the rights and wrongs of the political and economic arguments, it is clear that when cuts have to be made, the elderly are frequently seen as an easy target. Although a ‘U turn’ regarding closures has been executed, for the time being, we have to wonder where the private sector would have absorbed all those forced to vacate homes in which many of them were very happy.

There is no doubt that increasing age brings increasing problems as faculties begin to fail and the practicalities of care become more complicated. Resources are becoming much scarcer and the burden on family carers correspondingly heavier. In some cases the help available is good, but it depends where you live and in many situations there is little support when the pressure is on. Too often the authorities seem content to ‘tick the boxes’ that fulfil their minimum responsibility and after that – you’re on your own. In almost thirty years of pastoral ministry I don’t recall anyone who said, ‘I’m really glad I’m old.’ I don’t expect that will change.

We have to recognise that we are living in a society where anything that is old is regarded as useless and redundant, and those who are in the ‘older’ category soon notice that. However they think about themselves, the world around them often treats them as almost invisible, as a hindrance to progress, as those whose contribution to society is negligible. The retiring Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Rowan Williams, in his final speech in the House of Lords, stated that too many older people are being ‘tolerated’ rather than ‘valued’. He was opening a debate on how elderly people can be viewed as ‘participants’ in society rather than ‘passengers’.

The Christian perspective on older people should be profoundly different. The biblical worldview is one in which older people are honoured as sources of wisdom and godly example. ‘God has placed older believers as a lighthouse for those of us who live around them,’ wrote Gregory of Nyssa, an important 4th century theologian. In older Christians we have living examples of what it is to walk with God through the whole range of life’s experiences, proving the truth of his promises of care, direction and protection. We are not to idealise older believers – there are many biblical examples of grave sins committed in later life – but they can and do offer wisdom (for those who will listen) and patterns of godly living that we can imitate. By God’s grace the sins to which older people tend to be more prone can be overcome and the fruit of the Spirit manifested in greater measure.

In many of our congregations we are blessed with some fine ‘lighthouses’ whose prayers have maintained the witness in discouraging times and have supported it in times of advance, and whose example we are to profit from. It is sad when these stalwarts feel sidelined and redundant. Older believers must know that they are valued and their needs must be taken into account. The old are not to hold a congregation hostage to their preferences, any more than the young are, but their contribution must be valued.

We also need to beware of dividing congregations into ever smaller groups according to age, with the result that nobody has to relate to anyone a little older or younger who might think in a different way or have different needs. What we should seek is as much integration as possible among different ages and backgrounds so that all benefit from the wisdom and insights of all. That will require a degree of grace and forbearance from all members of a congregation: I may know my way is absolutely the best, but I am not to demand it on every occasion. Another good opportunity for the cultivation of the fruit of the Spirit!

We owe a great deal to faithful older Christians. May our gracious God continue to raise up ‘lighthouses’ for our congregations for many years to come.

Islington. The ‘Sunday Assembly’. The service begins. About 300 are present. No hymns (or psalms!) – instead a congregational rendering of songs by Queen, Stevie Wonder and Nina Simone. There’s a reading from Alice in Wonderland and a PowerPoint presentation from a particle physicist who explains the origins of antimatter theory. In charge of proceedings is comedian Sanderson Jones. No – I’m not making it up. Welcome to the first atheist ‘church’. Views of exactly what it is vary. Some in the congregation are seeking community spirit, without any religious overtones. Some are looking for a way to fill the gap left by abandoning Christian faith. Most do not see this as the founding of a new religion, some fear that it will indeed take on then form of a religion with a structure and a belief system.

What are we to make of the Sunday Assembly? Given the recent assertiveness of public figures like Richard Dawkins in proclaiming their atheism and their very evident antipathy to Christianity, it’s not all that surprising that something like this should appear. For some it is very important for atheists to be offering a comprehensive alternative to Christianity (and to religion in general), especially for those who regard religion as a dangerous influence in society. Some sort of ‘atheist church’ makes sense, if you buy into that worldview. It fits with the advertising campaign mounted a while ago in which London buses carried the slogan ‘There’s probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life’.

The truth is – people are incurably religious. They are made in the image of God, with an inextinguishable awareness of his existence, and the need for a relationship with God is built into all of us. Although sin has distorted that image, it has not been destroyed. Men and women still long for a connection with their Creator, even if they do not recognise that that is what they feel, and even if they deny the existence of a Creator. Hence there is a void in the human heart that is not in fellowship with God. It’s interesting how some of the Sunday Assembly spoke of their need to feel connectedness, a need to feel that they are part of something, a need for community. It is not merely the result of evolution: it is a mark of our createdness. The great theologian of the early Church, Augustine, wrote in his Confessions, addressing the Lord, ‘you made us for yourself and our hearts find no peace until they rest in you’. He was exactly right. The Sunday Assembly is just one more evidence of that fact.

Everyone worships someone, or something. That’s true even of atheists. Those who gather at the Sunday Assembly worship Humanity, with a capital ‘H’, man put in the place of God. Not a new idea. The original sin committed by Adam and Eve in Eden was to put man – themselves – in the place of God. Instead of submitting to God as the arbiter of the true and the good, fallen humanity puts itself in God’s place. The devastating consequences are evident all around us. But make no mistake – atheism, or humanism, or whatever name is preferred – is as religious as Christianity. Both have a god. Christians worship the living and true God, the Creator and Redeemer, who has revealed himself in creation, in Christ and in the Scriptures. Atheists worship Man, a creature who spends a few short years on earth, who inevitably dies and who ultimately has to give account for himself before the Judge of all. No amount of science, singing and comedy can conceal the fact that atheism is empty, futile and really rather pathetic. The Sunday Assembly won’t set off any alarm bells. Meeting across the street from this atheist church is a black evangelical congregation – who won’t have far to look for a mission field.

What use is the church to society? You might think that’s an odd question to ask. For one thing, we are not accustomed to thinking much about the ways in which the church benefits the society in which it is placed. Aren’t we here to do God’s will, to carry out his mandate, to seek his glory? To ask what ‘use’ we are to society seems to be asking the wrong question. Whether or not society can see any purpose that the church serves, we have work to be getting on with in obedience to the Lord’s command.

Fair enough. But there are people asking just such a question. The matter is of considerable interest to the Charity Commission which makes crucial decisions about the charitable status of churches and other Christian ministries. In general there has been little problem with questions of charitable status for churches, and the benefits in terms of, for example, receiving Gift Aid refunds, are very considerable. Of late, however, the Charity Commission have been much more interested in asking whether religion, Christianity included, can be said to be ‘for the public benefit’. It moreover cannot be assumed that the answer will be in favour of religion.

Attention is being focused on this issue by the case of a Brethren assembly in Devon. In a dispute that has been running for some seven years the Charity Commission has refused to register the fellowship because its Communion services are open only to members. Now if that is the sole reason, there is cause for considerable concern since most church bodies expect to be able to set the terms on which they administer Communion. Anything less would rightly be regarded as improper interference by the state in the spiritual affairs of the church. If admission to the Lord’s Table is taken out of church control, what will be next?

When elders from the Brethren assembly appeared recently to give evidence to a parliamentary select committee, a letter was produced from the Charity Commission’s head of legal services in which it was stated that churches cannot be assumed to be acting for the public good. The letter included the statement that, ‘This decision makes it clear that there was no presumption that religion generally, or at any more specific level, is for the public benefit, even in the case of Christianity or the Church of England.’ Leaving aside the interesting phrasing at the end of the quotation, the implications of this outlook, should it become standard practice on the part of the Charity Commission or of other government agencies, are deeply worrying.

In what ways could a church be considered to be of ‘public benefit’? It would be hard to prove that the spiritual ministries of the church (or of some other religious body) are of benefit if those making the judgment do not share the spiritual perspective of the church. There is no doubt that true conversion is a life transforming experience that in the course of a lifetime will bring about immense changes in every aspect and relationship of a person’s life. How can that be measured or even demonstrated to be the result of a church’s ministry? Certainly not easy.

Some ministries carried on by various churches may lend themselves to the kind of evaluation which the Charity Commission may favour. Diaconal ‘ministries of mercy’ to the poor and those suffering in various ways might be demonstrably ‘for public benefit’. Other means used to offer assistance to different groups in the community might also come under this heading. Some churches will of course take the approach that their work is entirely spiritual, having nothing to do with meeting material or physical needs, but that is a position hard to square with the ministry of Jesus who healed the sick as well as preaching the Good News, and with the exhortation of Galatians 6:10 ‘Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.’

Whether bodies such as the Charity Commission accept this view is, however, a very different question. The church may have to face the prospect of losing its privileged position in an increasingly secularised society and be prepared to live, as it so often has done during its history, ‘under the cross’, paying the price for faithfulness to its King and Head.

Jimmy Savile – TV star, charity fundraiser, lovable eccentric – reputation shattered. Lance Armstrong – multiple Tour de France winner, elite athlete, victor over cancer – reputation shattered. Two very different cases, yet profoundly similar. Two contemporary icons, in the space of a few days reduced to reviled outcasts. Savile exposed as a serial abuser of young girls over decades, trading on his celebrity status, able to act (apparently) with impunity, safe in the knowledge that any whistle-blower would be dismissed as malicious or a fantasist in an era where abuse was hidden, ignored or denied. Armstrong exposed as a cheat, a leading player in a complex doping system that put winning above every other consideration, a manipulator and corrupter of younger competitors who quickly realised that dishonesty was the only way to success. It is sickening to read of Savile’s activities. To read of the lengths to which top class cyclists would go in abusing their bodies and circumventing the drug testing system almost beggars belief. Savile is dead and answerable to a higher authority. Armstrong is alive and in denial.

Of course, the inevitable question arises – ‘Who knew what when, and what did they do about it?’ In Armstrong’s case it appears that the entire sport was riddled with cheating. It will not be easy to find ‘clean’ competitors to inherit his Tour titles. The sources of evidence against him were all thoroughly compromised themselves. How any credibility can be restored to such a tainted sport remains to be seen. It’s perhaps not too encouraging when we hear an English member of one of the leading teams comment that ‘It doesn’t really matter’. Apparently Armstrong’s overcoming cancer excuses everything.

How the aftermath of Savile’s exposure will play out is anybody’s guess. The BBC, the NHS, hospital administrators, showbusiness colleagues – the list of those being sucked into the controversy seems endless. The Press, perhaps unsurprisingly, is reacting with a high degree of self-righteous finger-pointing. This from publications which have often shown an amazing lack of scruples in ‘digging up the dirt’ on public figures. How did they miss this one? Or did they know and, for once, keep their mouths shut? We shall see.

Now we live in a society which all too often delights in bringing down prominent personalities – the higher the better. It seems that if a public figure can be exposed as a liar, a cheat, a criminal, an all-round bad lot, people can somehow feel better about themselves. ‘He’s no better than us’, appears to be a consoling thought. If he is much worse than us – even better. Self-righteousness seldom lurks too far beneath the surface of the sinful heart of man. It’s woven into the fabric of fallen human nature.

When every allowance is made for such a cultural pattern, the destruction of the iconic status of Savile and Armstrong does seem to be thoroughly justified. They damaged the lives of others – albeit in different ways – and their public profiles enabled them to behave as they did. In their respective domains they provide clear illustrations of the warning of Psalm 146:3 ‘Do not put your trust in princes, in mortal man who cannot save’. The psalmist goes on to speak of how even the greatest must die: in some cases the death of reputation is just as devastating. People can ‘trust in’ public figures in numerous ways – not least as examples of courage, sporting prowess or charitable effort. Absolute trust is absolutely foolish, and often brings great pain.

Such folly would never be found in the church – now would it? And yet the exalting of some Christian leaders into ‘stars’, men whose actions and motivations are almost beyond question, is not all that rare. Even the best are fallible, sinners saved by grace. None should be accorded absolute trust free of all accountability. We must remember our leaders, consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith (Hebrews 13:7), but to make a man an icon (even a Reformed one) is very dangerous – not least for the icon himself.

20 seconds – seconds, not minutes – that’s how long his Olympics lasted. A British judo competitor, in his first-round bout, he was caught by his Canadian opponent with a move that he had been expecting. Just 20 seconds into the bout, he was on his back, defeated. Years of preparation gone in seconds. It was a knock-out contest, unlike some of the other sports. No round robin to offer an opportunity to redeem himself. Olympics over: time to pack the bags.

But not just yet. Inevitably, as he walked off the mat, a TV reporter was ready, cameras rolling, live microphone to stick in the poor chap’s face. Of course the question would be asked: ‘How do you feel?’ What could he say? How do you think he felt? Barely able to speak, he managed to say that he has led down his family, his team, himself. He was shattered, overwhelmed, but the reporter wouldn’t let it go. ‘Are there any positives you can take away from this?’ Probably fighting a powerful urge to flatten the persistent idiot, he reply was honest: No, there were no positives he could take away. Finally they let him go.

And yet, it’s true, isn’t it, that there is something in us that pushes us to look for positives in even the worst situation. We may not be able to find them, but we still look for them. Why should that be? Do we just want to find a way of blunting the pain, making ourselves feel a little less bad? Perhaps, but there is surely something deeper at work. The fact is we are made in the image of a God who is the source of meaning, the one who confers significance and purpose on human life. Ultimately we can’t live without a sense of meaning and purpose. If we don’t find it in the Creator, we have to make it up for ourselves. It is no coincidence that some philosophers who have denied that life has any meaning or purpose have followed their philosophy to its logical conclusion and have ended their meaningless lives.

Christians who by God’s grace have been enabled to love and serve the God of meaning know that life has a wonderful purpose – namely to glorify God and enjoy him for ever (as the very first answer in the Shorter Catechism rightly says). We have the assurance that our God is sovereign and works out all things according to his infinitely wise and loving purpose. This truth lies at the heart of the biblical doctrine of God’s providence, which is the practical outworking of his absolute sovereignty. Nothing takes place that surprises him or catches him unawares. Nothing can derail his plan or force him to change direction. In the Bible he may use the language of regret or repentance regarding himself, but he is speaking a language that we can in some measure understand. To borrow Calvin’s illustration, he is addressing us in baby talk, because we couldn’t understand anything else. He is always and everywhere in full control.

The truth of God’s providential direction of all things assures Christians that every experience they pass through has been sanctioned by a loving heavenly Father and that it serves to fulfil his sovereign purpose, including his particular purpose for each of them. That is not to say that we can necessarily always understand how individual events fit into the divine plan – often we are mystified and left with all kinds of questions – but we know that they do. We know that whatever comes to us serves God’s glory and our growth in Christ-likeness. However hard the experience, those positives can be taken from it. No experience is pointless for the child of God.

Now, it might be difficult to see that if you were lying on your back, staring into the ceiling lights, at the end of a 20 second Olympic career, but it would still be true, and by God’s grace that can be our testimony in every situation that the providence of our God allots to us.