Nineveh the Great

In the year 746 BC, or thereabouts, a man called Jonah, recently regurgitated by a giant fish on the shores of the Mediterranean,  walked through the streets of the great city of Nineveh, preaching the greatness of the God of the Bible.

In the year 2014, ISIS terrorists drove out the last remnant of worshippers of this same God of the Bible, from the city of Mosul, which lies in Northern Iraq, and is more or less in the same spot as the ruins of that same great ancient city of Nineveh.

The Ninevehites responded to the preaching of Jonah, as Matthew’s gospel points out, and then after him, comes one greater than Jonah (Matt 12:41). It is on His preaching and His life and death on the cross, that Mosul’s ancient Assyrian Christian community, which dates back almost to the time of Christ, is founded.

It’s incredible to think that the heritage of almost three millenia of faith and culture could be so summarily dismissed, and all in the name of “purifying” the land for the establishment of an Islamic state or some such thing. Snuffed out, as it were, in similar way that the tomb of the Prophet Jonah was dealt with recently, also at the hands of ISIS. One moment it's there. The next a puff of smoke.

http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2014/07/25/335192229/video-shows-islamic-state-blowing-up-iraqs-tomb-of-jonah

But does this God of the Bible leave the stage so simply. I hardly think so. Nineveh in its heydey, was the largest city in the world. In Jonah’s day, it was described as “a city so large that it took three days to go through it” (Jonah 3:3) and had 120,000 inhabitants. Now, where is it? And yet the community of faith that was born there has continued to this day. In the same way, long after ISIS has disappeared off the scene, like every other tyrannical and intolerant regime, the God of the Bible will continue to be transforming lives, and extending his kingdom.

As David says in Psalm 2   “The kings of the earth rise up and the rulers band together
against the Lord and against his anointed ........ And the One enthroned in heaven laughs. The Lord scoffs at them.”

Caring for the Garden

In November 2012, the inauguration of the Municipal Borough of Parque das Nações, where we live, as a separate administrative region within the city Lisbon was greeted with a great fanfare and opening ceremony. There have been a number of changes since then, but none more noticeable than, now 20 months on, the awful degradation of the beautiful lawns and parkland along the riverbank. I guess the care of these areas now comes under the general care of the city’s Parks and Gardens Department, and the current state of neglect is obvious.

But what struck me is that I have been walking and jogging in this parkland for the past year, and it has only really dawned on me this morning just how bad it is. The area looks totally unkempt. Grass isn’t being cut. Weeds are flourishing. The irrigation system is badly out of control. Signs and streetlights are broken and not being repaired. Once, this area was Lisbon’s pride and joy, and a sign of a great and positive future. Now it seems that nobody really cares. And it has taken me a full twelve months for the overall effect to sink in, and to realise that something is badly wrong.

Now that's true in life also. If we don’t look after ourselves, whether physically, or spiritually, the resultant decline doesn’t happen overnight. It can be very slow, almost imperceptible, but one day you wake up, and you realise how far you have fallen. Then the business of fixing things is all the more difficult. It is  much much better when we can keep a close account on ourselves, especially when our work is caring for the lives of others. So easy to put all one’e attention into the spiritual and emotional health of others, and neglect you own self.  I’m reminded of a little verse in the Song of Solomon, (1v6) which so well sums this reality up  - “...Other vineyards, I have taken care of; My own I have neglected”
 

Birdsong

Early summer mornings out walking by the river, I'm always aware of birdsong. Sometimes melodic, sometimes chirpy, never fails to lift my spirits. I reckon I must hear at least ten distinct species in the space of a few hundred yards as I walk through the park. The little groups of goldfinches I find the most delightful as they bounce among the branches. Their tinkling sounds like so many miniature bells in the trees.

Psalm 84 uses a bird metaphor to illustrate the joy off living close to the place where God dwells. It makes me sit up and think.

How lovely is your dwelling-place,

    Lord Almighty!

My soul yearns, even faints,

    for the courts of the Lord...

Even the sparrow has found a home,

    and the swallow a nest for herself,

    where she may have her young –

a place near your altar,

    Lord Almighty, my King and my God.

Now, why would a sparrow or a swallow necessarily choose to build their house in an old church. As it happens, they often do. Is it because of the lofty spires and the beautiful stained glass windows? Hardly. Is it because they have an acute sense of the presence of their Creator God. Probably not. I guess the reason is much more prosaic. It’s because a church is more open, more accessible than a private house. Because a church provides a place of security and peace in the higher nooks and crannies of its towers, away from the noise and dangers of the city streets. A place you might bring up your children in safety - next to where God dwells.

And therein, lies the lesson for us. That’s what church, our church, God’s community here in Lisbon, should be like. It’s not about beautiful architecture and religious symbolism. It’s about easy access, a place that is open to all comers and where people feel welcome. A place that is safe and secure, where the weak and injured can feel cared for. And a place that encourages growth, where we would want to see our families brought up and instructed.

That’s the place we love. Thats the place where God dwells.

Christ All Around Me

I was listening recently to Kristen Getty reciting the words of St Patricks’ prayer  ** when I was walking by the river. It was a quiet morning. The sun had just risen, and the blue of sky stretched along the horizon and merged with the water. Ducks and water fowl splashed around the shallows. So the words merged in my mind with the sense of union with the God who filled this place. Such a great declaration of faith and dependance.

Christ with me, Christ before me, 
Christ behind me, Christ in me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me, 
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
of the Creator of creation.

You can almost sense the old man, leaning on his staff and looking out over the hills of County Meath, and thinking of all the struggles, the spiritual battles he had had to face throughout his life. The power of the druids, the political intrigues of the pagan kings of Tara, and the ignorance of the common people. And it was this strength of the Trinity which kept him through it all. The knowledge of a Sovereign God who hovered over him, Christ as his advocate who had stood in his place and paid the price for his sins, and the peace of God’s Holy Spirit dwelling within him. These were his, and these are mine. Christ in me and Christ before me, and Christ behind him.

** “Holy Spirit, Living Breath of God” from the album “Hymns for the Christian Life”

Some More Linguistics

Another wonderful linguistic enrichment that comes through learning Portuguese, is how the words “criar” “criação” “criador” are used. This family of words has to do with the English words “create”, “creation” “Creator”. But, most interestingly, this same family of words are the ones that are used when you talk about bringing up a family. So a child is not reared, it is “criado” - created. The business of bringing up children is termed “criação” - creation. And the word for child - “criança” is itself derived from the same family of words - the thing created - this wonderful work of art we call a child.

Which all puts into a whole new perspective this business of bringing up a family. It’s a wonderful moment of creativity - and not just a moment - but a lifelong work of art. God’s creative art reflected in us through human fertility and growth. The child forms in the womb, comes to birth as a uniquely formed individual. The parent has this wonderful opportunity of shaping the young life into a thing of beauty. Something the Portuguese, with a culturally highly developed focus on the importance of family, are good at, as they invest lots of time and energy into bringing up their kids.

And something we also often mess up on and need to know a lot of Gods grace in our parenting. But thank God that he specialises in taking what has been messed up and making something new.

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.

Lua Crescente

Language does funny things from time to time, and understanding a foreign language can open up new and unexpected vistas within your own.

I was sitting outside in the car and I noticed a minivan publicising a local pre-school prpgramme called “Lua Crescente” or “Crescent Moon” with a logo in the shape of a crescent, obviously. Now, the word "crescent" in English defines that particular shape. What it doesn’t indicate is that the word crescent comes directly from the Latin (and also, incidentally, the Portuguese) verb “to grow” - “crescer” (hence of course our words “increase”, “crescendo” etc).

So, now, it’s no longer just about the shape. It’s about how the moon got to be that way. It grew. It increased in size and radiance. And it would continue to grow until it became a full moon and filled the heavens with its glow. Later that same night, I sat outside on our balcony under that very full moon, amazed at how much light it radiated over the Parque

But of course, in fact, it is not the moon that's actually growing. The moon stays the same. It’s just that the portion of the moons surface that reflects the suns light on to our planet grows as it follows its orbit. Just plain physics. Not even rocket science!

But here’s a nice little metaphor for my life and my walk with God. How much am I growing? How much of the fulness of Jesus is reflected in me to others on a day to day basis. I reckon need to be more of a crescent moon.

Lead me to the Rock

When you’re just about to leave a place and not sure you’ll ever be back that way again, you think of all the things you wish you could have done if you had had time. So it was that in June of 1999, just before leaving Pakistan for good, I decided to leave the family in Murree head up to the northern areas of Gilgit and Hunza. We had tried to travel there several times before but had always been thwarted by bad weather.

So, decision made, and, quite soon I took a rough but utterly amazing ride on a government bus from Rawalpindi up the Karakoram highway to Gilgit and then on to Hunza. 17 hours later os so, I’m rubbing tired limbs and aching joints and looking around in Karimabad, Hunza. Rent a room in a guesthouse, some food and sleep, and then the next morning, with the sun blazing, up into the mountains. This was not intended to be a major hike, just a more or less aimless wander into the hills around Karimababad.

And what do I remember of that experience of those Northern mountains that bright June morning? Something about God. I remember walking up through the terraced hillsides on the edge of the town - all bustle and the normal sounds of a rural community going about its business, chickens flapping, dogs barking, children calling, oxcarts trundling. Then I turned a corner and all of a sudden a great valley opened up and led onward and upward. Trees gave way to snow fields, and ..... silence. That’s what struck me. The total absence of human activity and sound as the mountain took me into is embrace.

Made me think about God in His immensity. We encounter only a part of Him in his gracious interaction with our human frame, sustaining us, directing, loving us. But there’s a whole other aspect to Himself, that we never fully encounter. God in Himself, utterly awesome, immeasurable and immense. But it's into that aspect of relationship with Himself and intimacy that He leads us. He draws us into Himself, on and ever upward to the silent slopes of His being.

I’ve been focussing in these past few weeks almost exclusively on Psalm 61, 62 and 63, finding much to challenge me about my relationship with God, and much to encourage and comfort me also. Psalm 61 begins with the prayer “When my heart grows faint, lead me to the rock that is higher than I”. So that’s my prayer for today.