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.