Christian Aid Sunday - Making It Real

“You did not choose me – I chose you and appointed you to go and bear much fruit, the kind of fruit that endures.”

Those are some of the words with which Jesus made ready to leave his disciples on the evening before his crucifixion. For three years, they’d been at his side, watching him work, eating with him, debating with him. But it was only with hindsight that they truly realised who he was. He was God with them; God in the flesh.

Perhaps more than any of the other gospels, John’s is the gospel of incarnation. Matthew and Luke give us the story of Jesus’ birth; Mark begins his gospel already running, with Jesus a grown man. But John takes us way back in time to the beginning, in a self-conscious echo of the opening words of Genesis He says:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the word was with God and the word was God”.

and just a few verses later he lets us into the immense secret that the new Christian community had been let into – that in Christ, the word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.

For the first time, the God of heaven had been earthed in a person; you could put your hand out and touch him if you wanted to. The unfathomable God had become tangible. And we needed that.

Like it or not, we can’t get away from the fact that human beings are creatures of sense. Unless we can see it, hear it, taste it, smell it or touch it, we’re generally not convinced.

God knows that. He remembers that we are dust as the Psalmist says. He knows it helps us believe if we’ve something tangible to hold on to. And so, John tells us, the word became flesh.

Without substance, all our talk about big truths or big ideas sounds like so much hot air.

I don’t mean to play party politics, but to give an example, what exactly is the Big Society? That was David Cameron’s rallying call two years ago at the last general election – great rhetoric, but what did it actually mean for you and me? Nothing tangible, as far as I can see. Which is probably why you’re hearing a lot less about it these days.

A big idea has to be anchored in something practical and tangible, if it’s going to make a real difference.

And that’s something Christian Aid have been so good at down the years.

Yes – they have the rhetoric. But they also have the practical solutions that make the rhetoric believable.

They want poverty to be over. There’s no denying that’s a big idea! But then they put hoes and seeds into the hands of women farmers in Sierra Leone so they can raise crops on vacant land.  They give them tools, not just aid, because these folk don’t want handouts for the rest of their lives – they want to be able to make their own way.

In time, the seeds start to grow, and the people start to grow too. With the right support and guidance from Christian Aid, folk are empowered to deal with the authorities and lobby for improvements in their conditions. And their arguments are stronger because they’re a community who are pulling together and going places. They get a new school. Their kids have a better chance of escaping poverty.

And all because someone, in Christ’s name, got alongside them with a few basic farm tools, and a little bit of strategising. That’s all it took for the big idea of an end to poverty to become a tangible reality, in that little corner of the world at least.

My friends, as Christians, we are invested in a big idea. The idea that there is a God who formed this world and who loves its peoples with an enduring love. A God who wants each and every individual to know that they matter to him, and invites them to know him in return.

We are charged with getting that message out, charged by Jesus himself. “You did not choose me – I chose you and appointed you to go and bear much fruit, the kind of fruit that endures.”

How will we do that? How do we bear that fruit? By matching our profession with action. By making God’s love tangible.

Profession without action, according the apostle James, is just hot air.

“What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save him? Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, “Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.

Our little church sits here, a landmark for miles around. What goes on here, people wonder. What do those folk stand for? What are they about?

How will they know, unless our faith bears fruit in actions?

This week, one of the ways we can act is by helping out with the Christian Aid collection in the parish. A couple of hours of your time given over to helping communities like Bap in Sierra Leone. You don’t need to have all the answers, you don’t need to know the GDP and principal exports of Sierra Leone. You just need to know that these folk want to help themselves and need a leg up to get started, and that this matters to the God you say you believe in!

“Go and bear fruit” Jesus says. “the kind of fruit that endures”. This week, Christian Aid’s the obvious focusm but who knows what Jesus’ words might mean the week after? What that 'fruit' might look like. Visiting someone, writing to someone, cooking for someone, forgiving someone. You alone know.

But what’s clear this morning, not only from our text, but from the whole sweep of Scripture, is that it’s far easier for people to believe in God when God’s love is made real for them through the actions of flesh and blood people like you and me.

Christian Aid reflection - Doubting (?) Thomas

Doubting Thomas.

That’s a harsh way to be remembered, isn’t it?

I’ve always felt a bit sorry for Thomas. It’s kind of unfair to have one moment define your whole life story, but that’s what’s happened with him.

Doubting Thomas.

Nobody remembers him as Faithful Thomas; Courageous Thomas.

You’ll probably know the story of how Jesus’ friend Lazarus, the brother of Mary and Martha, died. What you may not know was that for Jesus to return to Bethany to be with the mourners was risky. He was persona non-grata in that part of the world, his enemies had already tried to stone him, and when they first heard this news the disciples tried to talk him out of going back there.

But when it became clear that his mind was made up, Thomas said to the rest of them: “Let us go also, that we may die with him”.

But we don’t remember that part of the story. We remember this part. And we forget that until the rest of the disciples saw Jesus with their own eyes, they were doubting too. Thomas was no different from all the others, in that respect.

Late on that first Easter Sunday evening, Jesus appeared among his followers as they cowered in a locked room. These were the men who had fled and deserted him at the crucial moment, but there are no recriminations. Instead, he blesses them with his peace, his presence and his Spirit. John tells us that on seeing him, they were filled with joy. But Thomas isn’t there to receive the blessing. He didn’t get to see for himself.

We don’t know where he’d got to. Maybe he was on an errand. Maybe he’d kept his distance from the rest of the disciples after Calvary.

Whatever the reason for his absence, when he finally gets to hear this incredible news, his reaction is, I dare say, exactly what yours or mine would be. Incredulity.

People don’t come back to life after crucifixion, and I hear more than a little anger in his voice when he growls “unless I see the scars of the nails in his hands and put my finger on those scars and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

You can live in your fantasy world, he seems to be saying. If I’m going to believe this I need the evidence of my own senses. Your words aren’t enough for me.

And who can blame him? Words are cheap, aren’t they?

It’s only when the Christ appears among them once more, and Thomas sees him with his own eyes, that he finally believes. Interestingly he doesn’t seem to need to go as far as putting his fingers into the wounds, as he said he would.

And with one eye on the future, Jesus gives a word of encouragement to the likes of you and me, though it also sounds like an admonishment for Thomas: “You believe because you have seen – blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have believed”. I’ve always appreciated those words.

Now, in the context of today’s Christian Aid service, what does this story have to say to you and to me? We’ll I’ve held it in my mind this week, and as I’ve turned it over and over, different facets have caught the light.

The first time round, I found myself thinking about the fact that words are cheap.

It’s not so long ago that in the light of the Empty Tomb we were proclaiming hallelujahs and declaring that Jesus is risen. Holding out the truth that in Christ’s death and resurrection something of cosmic proportions has taken place. These are the words that the church is called to proclaim. And they are true.

But I wonder how many ears in the world receive those words with scepticism or disbelief because they seem to have precious little evidence backing them up.

If in the resurrected Christ, and the church that gathers around him, the hearts and minds of men and women are turned back to God and to their fellow human beings, why are over a billion people in our world still living on less than a dollar a day, when the vast majority of the world’s resources are concentrated in the nominally Christian west?

Can the poor be blamed if in response to our claim that Jesus is risen, they turn round and say ‘So what? Until we see the evidence of his goodness for ourselves, manifest through you as you help feed our bodies and minds and souls what tangible reason do we have to believe? If your faith in God doesn’t move you to work for change and for justice in a desperately unfair world, isn’t it just empty words?'

Perhaps the third world is rather like Thomas, waiting for hard proof that our faith is real, because fine words aren’t enough.

Or perhaps – and here’s a shocker – perhaps it’s we in the west who, like the disciples, are in trouble. Locked in the prison of our materialism. Locked into cycles of consumption we can’t get out of. Desperately fearful, though we have less to fear than 90% of people on the planet.

And perhaps, just perhaps, the third world plays the role of Christ here – coming to us wounded, and yet full of joy and faith. Because the truth of the matter is that Christian faith is actually at its most vibrant in the emerging world, for all its problems.

Time and again, as we hear from Christian Aid each year, I’m struck by how much people in the third world have to teach us about generosity, joy and community, though in material terms they have so little. Think of the vitality and the vibrancy and the colour and the music that comes out of these places, for all their poverty.

On the surface it’s obvious who the needy partner is in this annual exchange between ourselves and the poor of the world. On reflection it’s not nearly so obvious.

One last thought – and it comes in the form of a question. Where do we find Jesus?

It strikes me, not just from this story, but from the whole Biblical witness, that we find Christ among those who need him most.

A small group of fearful disciples, hiding behind locked doors and wondering what on earth the future holds for them.

An elderly group of Christian Aid volunteers, gathered in a church in an affluent suburb; trying hard to live with a different agenda to their near neighbours.

A young group of Nicaraguan workers, putting in a hard shift in the factory and the marketplace so that a whole community can eat, and their kids can be educated.

A congregation in North East Scotland, gathering for worship as they’ve always done, and wondering how to keep being the church in a culture that refuses to stand still.

Christ, who sees our needs, stands in our midst, shows us the wounds he bore for our sins, and speaks his peace over us.

And we are blessed, in the midst of our doubt, and given good, solid reason to believe.

Thanks be to God.