by James Webb
I’ve heard it said that there’s no such thing as bad press. I’m not sure Prince Andrew would agree, but there you go.
In a way, Paul certainly thought so. I’m reading through Philippians at the moment and right at the beginning Paul claims that some are preaching Christ to make trouble for him, but he doesn’t care as long as Jesus is being preached. Read more
For someone who likes words, I seem to spend a lot of my time not able to find the right ones.
Many of my days are spent searching for perfect words, and then trying to arrange them in the perfect order. There are plenty of moments where I can’t even seem to find adequate words, let alone perfect ones. Read more
There’s a line in Nehemiah 12, when the people of Judah are celebrating the dedication of Jerusalem’s wall, that reads like this: “The sound of rejoicing in Jerusalem could be heard far away.” Read more
Most attempts to put Jesus on film typically fail in one way or another, which is inevitable. If Jesus can’t be contained by a tomb, then there’s no way the screen can hold him. The gospels give us so many different aspects of Jesus’ character, while filmmakers tend to fall into the trap of emphasising one or two aspects that mean the most to him or her. If the filmmaker wants to get across the fact that Jesus was a charismatic, joyful figure then the actor wanders across the Middle East with a goofy grin on his face in every single scene, while if a gracious, gentle Jesus is preferred then he is expected to make gooey eyes at every single person he meets. It’s no wonder no-one has ever done the role justice. Read more
Remember being at school, when popularity was such a big part of life? That was the top of the food chain back then – being popular; being one of the ‘cool kids’. Then we left school and marched off into adult life, but it seems that the playground followed us. Read more
Sometimes a song or a story or a poem will generate a powerful emotional response in me by putting into words something that is buried deep within, something I haven’t really given shape to myself yet. This is what art does. Why just the other day I was listening to someone explain how he had been left shaken by listening to a short story that somehow managed to encapsulate his own experience of childhood. Read more
One Saturday, many years ago, Ruth and I were travelling to London by train. We were sitting, waiting for the train to depart, when a couple and their young daughter got on. The man found a seat, but the woman stood by the open door, finishing her cigarette. The young girl, who must have been maybe five or six years old, began to speak Read more
There you are, just sitting, living your life and minding your own business, when there’s a knock at the door.
You get up and answer it.
It’s Jesus. He’s got a parcel for you. Read more
What can you build from dust and ashes?
From remnants scattered after flames?
Wealth of a life all burnt, destroyed,
Nothing of joy or hope remains. Read more
I’ve been making my way through the account of Jesus’ life found in Mark’s Gospel recently, and though serendipity I ended up reading the Passion narrative during the week leading up to Christmas. The Resurrection arrived on Christmas day itself.
On Christmas Eve I was struck by the comparison offered in Mark 15:42-47. The season demanded that we remember the Christ being placed gently in the manger by his parents, and there I was reading about how another Joseph placed him gently in a tomb carved from rock.
Neither could hold him of course. He grew too big for the manger, and grew too alive for the tomb.
Such is the way of Jesus. He will not be ‘placed’ anywhere for too long. He cannot be held, trapped, nailed down, cornered, pinned, ensnared, bound, boxed in or bottled up. You may as well try and glue the sea in place. We may be more comfortable if he stays in the manger, the gentle spirit of Christmas goodwill, but he will refuse your kind offer of accommodation, and wander off somewhere, life and mayhem following in his wake. Despite all the trouble he’s caused me at times, he is without a doubt my favourite person ever. And despite all the trouble I’ve caused him, he seems quite fond of me too.
So when the Messiah who won’t sit still sticks his head through your doorway and says, “I’m going out for a while. Fancy a walk?” what can you do? What can you say to that kind of invitation?
