Tag Archives: 1 Corinthians 11

A perennial blight

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My heart cries out over Moab; her fugitives flee…weeping as they go; they lament their destruction. Their waters are dried up and the grass is withered; the vegetation is gone and nothing green is left.. the wealth they have acquired.. they carry away. Like fluttering birds pushed from the nest, so are the women of Moab at the fords of the Arnon.

(Isa 15.5-7; 16.2)

The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

(1 Cor 11.23-26)

I saw heaven open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and makes war…. and his name is the Word of God…On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.

(Rev 19.11,13&16)

Many other and more discerning writers will put pen to paper this weekend, to comment and lament and analyse the appalling addiction of humankind to war and violence as a means of resolving difference and apportioning resources. I only want to reflect for myself briefly on the pattern, on its devastating consequences, and on the solution which is revealed in the good news about Jesus.

One of the earliest consequences of human rebellion was the resort to violence as a means to an end, and a response to the fear of others which sin breeds in us. Cain took his brother’s life, and within a few generations, his descendant Lamech was boasting about how many he had killed for trivial reasons and with impunity.

The picture of destruction and of fleeing refugees in all their vulnerability has changed little since Isaiah wept over the plight of the neighbouring land of Moab – human distress in war is not new, although perhaps the means of inflicting it may be. 

Left to ourselves, this expression of the destructive power of sin might have quickly wiped out humankind, and I believe that it is only the ‘restraining power of common grace’ (with thanks to the scholar Alex Motyer*) which has enabled our race to continue to exist and to grow in numbers and sophistication of technology and culture down the centuries. 

The bible tells us that God is not willing that any should perish, and his hand of final judgement is still withheld, even though sin in all its ugliness and destructive power dominates our lives. He is preparing a people for himself, with whom to share a life eternal, and for this reason, he waits. And that means that war goes on, violence continues to shatter lives and devastate communities and countries. Humanity left to itself is incapable of breaking the cycle, because it springs from the blight lodged in deepest recesses of all our hearts. We must not hide from the evidence – is the 21st century looking more peaceful and harmonious than the 20th did? No! This seems to be another lesson from history which we cannot learn.

The good news about Jesus is that he came to win the ultimate fight – against the power which enslaves humankind to wrong and destructive choices, to rebellion against God. He won through surrendering to violence – undeserved death, alienation from God – and his resurrection demonstrates his victory because sin’s ultimate weapon is death, and Christ defeated it.

When his followers remember Jesus’ suffering and death, they do so in anticipation and in thankfulness. We remember that sin has been defeated, that we are on the winning side, and that one day we will enter into a life where death and suffering have no place – where war and weeping are no more.

As a Christian, I believe that I am called to be a peacemaker – to live and interact with others in ways that promote love, generosity, forgiveness and healing. I also believe that until God’s time of waiting is finally over, there cannot be true peace in the world, because only when all human hearts are healed and made new will there be an end to those things which cause wars. 

I remember the fallen, the broken, the displaced and the haunted-living whose minds are so traumatised by violence that their lives are detestable to them. I pray and speak and move for healing peace between individuals and nations. But I do not put my faith in human effort, or education, or any other possible tool. I put my faith in the death and resurrection of Jesus, whom I also remember, with gladness and profound humble relief, as the one who has defeated the enemy of all our souls, and has promised that one day we will live with him in perfect, fruitful and lively peace.

[Alex Motyer; The prophecy of Isaiah, IVP, 1993]

Food for the journey..

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A feast of joy unspeakable is spread, by him who is himself the living bread, A place for hungry souls is now prepared, a life of endless glory to be shared.

Yet places at this feast were dearly bought when Jesus Christ came down and souls were  sought, and found and saved by his own precious blood, to make our peace with heaven’s holy God.

That gentle hand, once pierced, will pour the wine, the liquid life of love our souls refine, in heaven’s hall of wonders still to come, when God in matchless mercy brings us home.

And there, together saved by lavish grace, the room ablaze with light from Jesus’ face, and every trace of sin and darkness gone, we’ll sing the praise of God’s all-radiant Son.

(Malcolm Macgregor: sung to ‘Ellers’ by EJ Hopkins)

For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: the Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.”

For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes. 

(1 Corinthians 11.23-26)

It is just a year since we first suspected that we ought to be seriously considering the call to come to this remote part of Scotland, and came to visit the area, the church and manse and meet with a few of the members. Only twelve months, during which time our lives have changed profoundly, and God has demonstrated his faithfulness and tenderness time and again in providing for our needs and giving us strength and peace through the changes.

Last Sunday, we celebrated the Lord’s supper in the most northerly of our three church buildings, remembering together what Jesus did for us on the cross, and taking time to give thanks again; to receive strength for the next stage of our journy; and take courage that whatever the world may say of or to us, we have complete assurance of our eternal destination.

It is such a simple act, a bit of bread, a cup of wine (or grape juice!), shared by a miscellaneous bunch of people in a remote corner of Scotland. And yet a profound act. A deliberate act of remembering what was done for us, by  God’s son, the perfect one, who alone could die the death we should have died, in order that we might live. An action which we take with fellow believers, a statement of unity and belonging that transcends every possible barrier of age, gender, race, and which links us with all who have gone before. We are ONE in Christ, and that bond goes deeper than any other. These people, whom I as yet barely know, are my people, and we belong together.

And it is an action that looks forward, as Paul says in his letter to the Corinthians – we do this according to Jesus’ own command, to declare his death for us ‘until he comes.’ A day is coming, when we will share in a glorious feast of communion, a celebration of Jesus Christ, with him at the head of the table, and with all our travails behind us for ever. In his promises we have hope, and his grasp on us is the foundation of our faith, not our hold on him which is weakened by circumstances and our own frailties. Glory be to God, who has given us this sign which we share, remembering the past, celebrating the present and straining with hope towards the future.

We sang the words which I quoted above in our service last Sunday, and I was moved to sweet tears – of joy, of hope and longing for that holy feast. He has done it all; His lavish grace has rescued and restored us, and keeps in store a life rich beyond our imagining  So when we come to the table, let us come with joy and be filled again with love for one another and for those who are yet to believe, that we might proclaim the Lord’s death with pride until he comes!