Restless Wonderer

In yesterday's post I drew out a first principle for dealing with our ambition: s eek God's glory, not your own .  Abraham was our example as we contrasted him with the builders of the tower of Babel.  The New Testament also warns about the relationship of selfish ambition to jealousy and its perils within the Church.  Paul challenges us with the following words: "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves,    not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others" (Philippians 2:3-4).  These words come just before a passage I referred to in the first post in this series, where the apostle proceeds to describe, in the most beautiful language, Christ's sacrificial humbling of Himself and taking on the form of a servant.  Christ is our example in his abandonment of self for the sake of others.  Although Paul doesn't give us any juicy details, it seems clear from how he writes

In yesterday's post we saw that Jesus abandoned self-preservation and the pursuit of power in His descent to the cross.  We heard His call to lose our lives for His sake and the sake of the gospel.  How, then, are Christians supposed to cope with ambition?  The Bible acknowledges the dangers of ambition right from the beginning of its account of human existence.  The narrative of Genesis contains a powerful contrast between the tower-builders of Babel, who wanted to make a name for themselves (11:4), and Abraham, who, while abandoning comfort and civilisation in obedience to God, receives God's promise to make his name great (12:2).  The difference is that the builders were driven by a desire for self-protection and self-promotion ("otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth"), whereas God's intention in making Abraham's name great was to bring truth, hope and salvation to others through him ("I will make your name great, and you will

"One day I'm going to do something that will change the whole system, and everyone will know my name and remember".  Those are the words Andreas Lubitz, who set the plane he was flying last week on a downward trajectory on a collision course in the French Alps, reportedly spoke to a former girlfriend last year.  The statement is chilling when interpreted as the statement of a narcissistic individual who would commit mass murder in protest against his working conditions and to ensure his name would enter the history books.  Yet the same words could also be said by a person who intends to make a positive difference in the world and be remembered for it - something that most people would regard as a noble ambition.  Ambition is complex. Without it we might make no progress and attain no goals, but with it we seem to tread on dangerous ground.  Failure to achieve our perceived potential, along with feelings that others (perhaps even those less able than ourselves) are advanci

I have been watching the Ashers 'equality' story unfolding for some time, but only now have I decided to go public with my views on this complex issue. Firstly, I feel great empathy for the owners of Ashers, who appear to be sincere and humble people.  They did not seek the media storm that has followed their polite refusal to make a cake decorated with a pro-homosexual marriage message.  They did not discriminate against a customer on the basis of sexuality or any other personal trait - they simply felt uncomfortable producing a product that bore a message they could not support in good conscience.  I expect the vast majority of sensible people will sympathise with this.  I wish this family had not found themselves in the courts and I feel frustrated that a publically funded body has supported the case against them. Secondly, however, I am uneasy with the Christian protests about the case.  Thousands of Christians gathered at Belfast's Waterfront Hall this week in sup

Where does parental pride slip over into real pride (you know, the really bad 'deadly sin' kind)?  I sat in my son's BB (Boys' Brigade) parents' night this evening and brimmed with pride as he participated with his peers. My daughter has her GB display later this week, but she already received two awards - first place in craft and second in Scripture (mirroring her dad's crafty approach to the Word???) - at the dress rehearsal on Saturday past.  Surely it's ok for me as a parent to be pleased with my children's achievements?  Yes, I believe there is an appropriate parental pride, or perhaps I should call it delight or pleasure in our beloved children? The strange thing on these occasions, though, is the competitiveness that emerges in the parents as we sit and watch.  There's no doubting that this tips us over the edge of appropriate pleasure in our kids into something unhealthy.  I'm by no means immune - against all better judgement I feel a thr

I spoke at Lisburn Causeway (Prospects Ministry) Group tonight.  I realised how much I miss the group when I don't see them - I hadn't been since Christmas - my wife's piano playing is more in demand than my sketchboard messages so she goes most weeks. I can honestly say that I love speaking in this context more than all my lecturing (sorry students), preaching (sorry churches), podcasting (sorry listeners) or seminar speaking (sorry one and all).  My friends with varying degrees of intellectual disability are the most sincere audience I ever speak to.  I feel no need for pretension and fear no misjudgement and the release is sweet.  I love the sincerity of their responsiveness, including S who interrupted me twice (only twice this time) to say "And there's something else ... God loves us". A better sermon in three words than most I have preached with many more. The truth is that every time I speak to this group I learn more than anyone else in the room.  I am

This morning I was preaching in Scrabo Hall in Newtonards. The passage I had been given was Mark ch 15 verses 33 to 41. In this passage Mark records three signs that occurred while Jesus was on the cross, each of which requires the Old Testament in order to understand its significance: 1) The hours of darkness.  Amos 8:9 explains that this supernatural event (whatever its physical cause it is clearly an act of God) indicates God's wrath and judgement upon human sin. 2) Jesus' cry of abandonment.  In a stark contrast to His usual pattern of calling God Abba (Father), Jesus cries out using simply "My God".  As Jesus took our sins and the judgement they deserved He experienced something of the separation from God that sin deserves.  Here is God the Son willingly taking our place and experiencing our abandonment.  But Jesus is also quoting Psalm 22 - He knows His death will accomplish God's purpose and that ultimately, as the closing verses of that Psalm say, future

Sometimes - like yesterday when I tried to explain to my children that the next solar eclipse won't be until they are adults - I am reminded powerfully of the transitory nature of life. We are born and we die and we seek meaning in the shadow of the awareness of our inevitable coming demise. Then I begin to wonder why it should be this way, or, perhaps more accurately, I wonder why I should care.  Why does death seem like such an enemy?  The answer Scripture gives is that we were made not for death, but for eternal life with God.  In light of the gospel, my confidence of the future resurrection and life with Christ gives me a certain hope that my own death will only be a transition to a richer life with Christ, but that knowledge doesn't automatically infuse my days with purpose. When I look at my children I see that they are carefree.  Death seems a long way away - even tomorrow seems a long  time away. Each moment is all that matters.  It reminds me of Jesus telling h

Hi!  So, I've finally decided to start blogging.  I've no idea how often I'll post here or how long I'll keep this up, but I thought today was a great day to begin.  Why?  Because it's the first day of Spring and we've just had a solar eclipse.  These things together got me thinking.  I love the turning of the seasons.  Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter all have their charms - each has a beauty of its own.  I've been particularly enjoying the coming of Spring this year, though.  Somehow the lengthening of the days, the brightening of the skies and the (admittedly stop and start) increase in temperatures has been speaking powerfully to me of the potential for fresh beginnings.  Some weeks ago the snowdrops poked their heads above the soil in my front garden, followed at a respectable distance by the miniature narcissi planted beside them.  I'm still waiting for the daffodils to open and the trees to bud, but nature tells me that Spring is certainly