by James Webb
On Monday God gave me some grace.
I squandered it on something. I don’t even remember what it was now.
On Tuesday God gave me some grace.
I put it in a cupboard somewhere and forgot about it. It’s probably still there.
On Wednesday God gave me some grace.
I told myself that it wasn’t such a big deal if I went off somewhere and did whatever I wanted, because Read more
The wind and the waves crashed against the sides of the boat, so frail out there in the middle of the dark sea all by itself. Keeping steady footing was impossible, and keeping a steady head even harder.
And as the crew huddled together and screamed and wept and wished it were all a dream, The Man slept the sleep of the righteous, undisturbed and unafraid, the fury of nature powerless to break his peace. Read more
Dear Reader,
I’m writing to you because there’s something that I want to tell you. It’s something that I overheard once, and although it wasn’t originally meant for you, I thought I should pass it on, because it is meant for you really.
You are God’s favourite.
Knowing you, there are a few different ways you might react to this news, but all of them are saying the same thing: “I don’t believe it.”
You might find it hard to believe because you don’t think you should be God’s favourite. You’re not good enough. How can you be God’s favourite when you’re such a terrible person? Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I certainly don’t think you’re a terrible person, but you’re probably right that you don’t deserve to be God’s favourite, and yet you are.
You might be wondering, what about everyone else? Well, I’m not writing to everyone else, I’m writing to you, and I am telling you that you are His favourite.
Perhaps you’re rolling your eyes right now, because you think this is typical of the rubbish that I come up with. Maybe it even makes you angry, that I would dare to write such a thing. That doesn’t change anything. You’re still His favourite.
Maybe you’re worried about what might happen if you really believe it. Would you get too big for your boots? Would you start to look down on other people? Now, don’t be silly. Do you think God is happy when we settle for a lie because we’re scared of the consequences of believing the truth? If His biggest concern was us abusing or misunderstanding His words then He’d never say anything. No, the truth is that you’re His favourite, and He wants you to know that.
And surely that’s got to mean something, right? That’s got to change the way that you think about yourself, and the way that you think about God, because it’s true. It really is true. You are God’s favourite.
Yours faithfully,
James
As I sit here and type this I genuinely feel like the world is a poorer place. I don’t think I’ve ever known a calmer presence and a more gentle gentleman than Dick. Some eventful things happened to the Veseys over the years, but I don’t need many fingers to keep track of the number of times I’d seen Dick anything other than serene and unruffled. I don’t often write about my time at Hayward’s Heath, but you shouldn’t read anything into that. It’s been a key part of my journey so far, and I am thankful for the experiences that I had there, and very thankful for the people that I met and worked with. The leadership team at the church was a fantastic group, and that included Dick, the ubiquitous elder, first at Sussex Road and then at Harlands.
Dick and Hilary have been generous and supportive of our family over the years. It was Dick, with his giant pastoral heart, who took it upon himself to keep me informed about the people whom we loved, and who loved us, back in Hayward’s Heath while we were sunning ourselves in Australia. At Hayward’s Heath, I was blessed to be in a church that sometimes tolerated but often appreciated my experiments in preaching, but in writing this I have realised that Dick was probably one of the most ardent supporters of my pulpit adventures. I don’t want anyone to feel left out, but when I think about the people who were most encouraging and positive as I wrestled with my gifting, Dick is one of the first faces to come to mind.
As is often the case, heaven’s gain is our loss. We will meet again, but in the meantime we carry on. This is what it means to be the church of Christ, the body of battling believers striving to bring the Kingdom to the Now, but dreaming of the Not Yet.
And have you ever regretted those words,
spoken in light but planned in darkness?
Did it seem like such a good idea,
in those days before, when the three of you
laughed and danced and joked and sang
with delight, before delight had even been invented?
Did you know, when you said to each other,
“Let us make some people now, some good ones,”
that you were sentencing yourself
to years and years of dirty nappies,
bare feet on carelessly discarded Lego bricks,
and ungrateful teenagers blanking you every day?
Did you know that you would spend
sleepless nights, longing for the days
of innocence, when a grazed knee was
the worst thing in the world,
but so easily fixed with a hug, and rewarded
with the dried tears that made you feel loved?
Did you know that you would bear it all?
Every broken heart?
Every bad decision?
The death of every pure thing?
Every act of cruelty and hate, some so evil
that they leave an irredeemable scar on history?
And does the pride outweigh the shame,
and the hope outweigh the despair,
for the three who trust so much?
Do you say, “That’s my boy!”,
or “I’m so proud of her!” when we take
our first faltering steps onto the shore?
And do you see beyond the reborn darkness,
to the flicker of light in every act of love,
so small, so frail and yet so vital?
And when you reach down and we slap your hand away,
is your forgiveness and patience really endless?
(Because I know mine isn’t.)
And are you looking forward to that time,
when we’ll finally come to our senses,
and you’ll at last be buried under the weight
of all those “Best Dad Ever!” mugs
that we made or bought in secret
with the stuff you gave us in the first place?
And do you have a knowing smile,
or a tear in your eye, as Adams and Eves,
so desperate to become gods,
discover that divinity is hard, ugly work?
Do you ever look at the stars and wonder,
these days, who’d be a father?
“We must face the hard truth that no-one loves well who hasn’t suffered.”
Larry Crabb
“Praise be to the God and Father of the Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,” writes Paul to the Corinthians, “who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.” It’s a bit of a mouthful, and Paul certainly wouldn’t get a good mark in any writing class (far too many ‘comforts’), but hopefully you get his point.
In case you don’t, it’s this: suffering isn’t all about you. One of the tricks that suffering plays on our mind is to make us even more self-focused; we struggle to see beyond our own painful situation. God, however, has His own tricks, and one of them is to turn suffering on its head by making it about how we can help others. Tell me, do you think the Enemy likes it when God disarms his great weapons so completely? Suffering equips you to love in a way that a life free from unpleasantness doesn’t.
“For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives,” Paul continues, “so also through Christ our comfort overflows.” If your goal is a life free from suffering then don’t bother with Jesus – he’ll just get in your way. If, however, your goal is a meaningful life then realise that suffering is not just part of the journey, but a key part of the process, and one you are not alone in. Don’t get distracted. Offer your experiences to those around you who are troubled. In this way suffering can be turned into comfort.
Crowded together on this train, heading to the city;
Only this is taking much longer than I had hoped.
Nobody seems to care about my needs;
Sitting there, with their loud conversations, loud music, loud chewing.
I can’t believe this is happening.
Do you hear him? He’s singing along to the music on his headphones!
Enjoy the music, go on! Don’t consider what I might want;
Really, all I want to do is read my book in peace.
Oh, now what’s this? Another stop at another station.
There’s a man getting on. I hope he doesn’t sit next to me;
He’s, shall we say, rather on the large side. I bet he smells too.
Everyone’s smiling, watching as he makes his way down the carriage;
Right and left, right and left, he looks for an empty seat, and stops next to me.
Sure, sit right down why don’t you? What else could go wrong?
Bad parents, messy eaters, I’ve got them all;
Everyone, it seems, is out to ruin my day.
This would be a really nice journey if it weren’t for them.
The headphone singer seems to be getting louder;
Even Gandhi would have punched this guy by now.
Relaxing, this ain’t!
This is the worst group of people I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet;
How did I end up in a carriage with them?
All we’ve got in common is our destination;
Now I’m expected to put up with all their nonsense?
You’ve got to be kidding me!
Our friend, Mr Fatty, has fallen asleep!
Unbelievable! His head’s on my shoulder! My shoulder!
Right away he starts to snore.
Somebody help me – I think he’s about to start drooling.
Every time I think I’m going to get some peace, someone like this comes along;
Let’s agree that, in future, I should only travel with a certain type of people;
Very nice, clean, good-looking, low maintenance people.
Everyone, in other words, who’s like me.
Stuck on this journey together, they could at least put my needs first.
“Why don’t you do something, God?”
“Like what?”
“Well, I don’t know. Something. Anything!”
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s someone who really needs to know that you love them, God. Someone who really needs your help.”
“What should I do, then?”
“Well, something that makes them feel loved.”
“Like what?”
“Well-”
“Should I give them a hug, perhaps? Write them a note telling them that I’m thinking of them? Give them a gift?”
“I suppose-”
“Sometimes all it takes is a smile, you know. Someone smiling at you can make a lot of difference. Should I smile at them, James?”
“I-”
“Because I do. You know that, right? You know that. How about a kind word? That can work wonders. A timely dose of kindness to a wounded soul can turn a broken man into a saint, can’t it? Or have you forgotten that whole pear thing?”
“No, but-”
“Every day I whisper love to people’s hearts. Sometimes I shout. But people aren’t always listening. There are always so many other things they’d rather listen to. And I made a decision a long time ago, a decision to delegate. Delegation is an act of trust, which is an act of love, you see.”
“I know-”
“And I could, I could reach out my arms and take the whole world into a hug, and draw it near to my beating heart and drown out everything else with my love, I could, and one day I will, but for now I have no arms and I have no smile. I gave those things away, James. I gave those things away a long time ago. Do you know who I gave them to, James? Do you?”
“I think-”
“That’s right. I gave them to you, and your brothers and sisters. I didn’t just give you peace and forgiveness and hope, I gave you responsibility. I gave you my arms and my feet and my smile and I said, ‘Here you go. You’re in charge of these now. Use them wisely.’ I delegated.”
“All right, I-”
“I am at work, James. I’m always speaking, always reminding a stubborn world that I’m here. But I’ve got an idea, James, about this person who needs to know my love. Do you want to hear my idea?”
“…”
“Do you, James?”
“Yes, God.”
“Well then, here it is. Are you ready?”
“Yes, God.”
“Why don’t you do something?”
Soon I’m going to have to book a family trip to the dentist. Last time Parker refused to have his teeth checked. We’d let him know about the visit well in advance, and he seemed fine on the day itself, so we were caught off-guard by his spirited rejection of the dentist – the irony being that he is probably the child who needs a dental check-up the most. To the dentist’s credit, he was reluctant to push the issue lest Parker end up traumatised. As for me, well, I was ready to kneel on his chest and prise his mouth open with my bare hands by the end of the visit. Don’t worry – I didn’t get that far.
It didn’t end there. After we left the dentist Parker had another full-blown tantrum, this time accusing Ruth and I of not letting him go to the dentist, and blaming us for the fact that all his teeth were going to rot and fall out. You’ve got to laugh, haven’t you. Haven’t you? HAVEN’T YOU???!!!
This time I’ve offered him Lego if he has his teeth checked, and that might do the trick. To his brothers and sisters it looks like he’s being rewarded for performing simple tasks, but there you go. I’m sure that they know that life is not fair. I’ve been very careful to make that clear to them on several occasions.
It is hard for them. I do wonder if, through their eyes, autism looks like fun. You get praised for run-of-the-mill behaviour, and don’t get punished nearly as much as it seems you should. But if they understood autism they wouldn’t wish to be in Parker’s shoes. Free Lego doesn’t seem like much of a trade-off when you think about all the extra complications he’s going to have to negotiate in order to form meaningful adult relationships or perform to the best of his ability in everyday situations.
I hope that my children realise something important – that loving everybody the same means loving everybody differently.
Love, by its nature (and I’m talking about proper, getting-your-hands-dirty, self-denying love here) means doing what is right for each individual according to his or her needs, strengths and weaknesses. Love is personalised. Life isn’t the only thing that’s not fair, because if love was fair it wouldn’t be love. One size most definitely does not fit all.
Some people, by the time that they get to my age, have been beaten around the head by life so badly that it’s left some pretty deep scars. I know that what God expects of them is different to what He expects of me. I know that sometimes He’s a bit harder on me than He would be on others, but equally I know that there are things He lets me get away with. However, I wouldn’t for one second suggest anything other than that God loves us all with the same burning, self-sacrificial, personalised passion.
Fairness is all right for robots and pets, but children deserve something better.
There is a big man waiting at the gate. He is carrying a huge wooden club. It has a nail in it. His name is Redemption. Do you let him in? Read more
