Having been born and brought up in a Western, pretty traditional church experience in Northern Ireland (the Bible Belt of the UK) I know the extreme importance of being born again. As a kid, going to Christian Summer camps or being part of Christian organizations, hearing messages and going to Church every Sunday, was ultimately geared up to one thing. Continue reading
“What if she was your sister?”
“What if she was your daughter?” Continue reading
There is a famous slogan here that you can wear proudly on t shirts that declares “Detroit Vs Everybody”.
If you ever bring up the fact that you live in or work in Detroit to someone who hasn’t visited the city recently you get either a sympathetic “That must be very difficult for you” or a look like you’ve just declared how your are to live in a hole in the ground, eat scotch eggs and support Arsenal for the rest of your life. Continue reading
It’s Easter and if you’re not already stuffed on chocolate I suggest you stop reading and get to it. What other time in the year will you be able to indulge, guilt free.
It’s an interesting idea isn’t it? At Christmas and Halloween we know we’re going to eat a lot of candy but it’s not until after when we hit the scales and the self disgust kicks in. But at Easter, a time when we are supposed to remember the ridiculous, non sensical gift of Grace, we give ourselves permission to indulge. Continue reading
It is now my favorite date on the Christian calendar yet I had never heard of it two years ago. Of course I’d heard the story of the Passover meal shared by Jesus and his disciples, the night where he predicted his own betrayal, only to be met with confusion and sleepy pals. But I had never really listened.
Maundy Thursday is new to me.
Easter is the time we celebrate Jesus resurrection but seldom do we take the time to focus on the dark part of Easter. And it is dark. We want to skip ahead to Sunday, but by doing so we miss out on something truly significant.
It makes sense that we want to pass this over. It’s not comfortable. You won’t find many churches hosting a Maundy Thursday service but it is a wonderfully solemn and deep experience.
I am writing this having just returned from one. The “Service of Shadows” (if there is ever a better name for a Church service I am yet to here it) leads us through six readings from the Gospels reflecting on the night where Jesus was betrayed and his eventual crucifixtion. The Shadow of Betrayal, The Shadow of Agony, of Arrest, of Denial, of Trial and of Suffering. Each reading accompanied with the extinguishing of a candle, slowly leading us further into darkness.
This is no coincidence.
There is no celebration here. There is no risen Christ. There is no awe or excitement. No victory. No defeated sin. No anxious rushing back to tell the others who you just bumped into.
It’s hard to see Jesus as a normal person but as much as He was God, He was a real Human being. On the night when He needed them most his friends fell asleep on Him. His frustration and anger can be felt. As much as Jesus was prepared to die, He wanted desperately to avoid what was coming.
We’re meant to see Jesus as fully human because it allows us to see ourselves as fully human. Maundy Thursday encourages us that there is something in the darkness that can be a gift. We don’t need to avoid it. We avoid it because we don’t want to face up to pain or suffering. That makes sense and that makes us human. It makes us Christlike.
But the message here is that whatever you are experiencing is alright. It doesn’t make you less human, it makes you fully human and ironically fully alive.
But today it is a distant Hope. We need to learn that it’s ok to feel this way. I don’t have good news for you but I do have this. We’re not alone. You’re not alone. We’re with you. This pain is what is going to make you stronger but that is for another day.
Resurrection will come. Freedom will come.
Soon, but not yet.
It’s not going to come as much surprise to anyone that the passing of Martin McGuinness has divided opinion. One of the highest ranking members of the IRA during the height of the troubles but equally as instrumental as anyone of bringing it to an end.
Had you asked anyone at that time, whether Ian Paisley and Martin McGuinness would be sitting beside each other, laughing and working together just a few decades later you would be considered insane at best.
Sworn enemies, completely at odds with the values of the other. Yet here was one of the greatest examples of Grace and reconciliation in the Western world, written into our history books.
These days following the passing of Marin McGuinness will be a difficult time for many. For some his death will bring no joy but perhaps a type of closure. For others it will be considered great news.
Grace is a word that everyone struggles with. It makes us feel uncomfortable and angry. Confused and frustrated. It is completely illogical. And there in lies it’s strength. That’s why it works.
The fear of Grace is that people will get away with whatever they want and in that tension most of us err on the side of caution and refuse to offer it. (Or for that matter, accept it). Many will have been skeptical that Martin McGuinness ever truly changed and are convinced he turned to political means when it became clear that violence wasn’t going to work. It’s little wonder that we cling to this cautious approach when we view the person we hate as someone still deserving of hate.
What do we do with our enemy who has turned around and changed their ways especially when we are still struggling to forgive?
There are no easy answers to this and we can not wrap this up in a way that everyone can feel comfortable with. I’m fortunate to have grown up during the end of the troubles and beginning of the peace process in Northern Ireland and I am even more fortunate to have grown up without losing someone close to me through the actions of any of the terrorist organizations that existed.
But if I had, could I still believe so deeply in the power of Grace? I’m not confident I would.
When the first images emerged of Ian Paisley and Martin McGuinness sitting together at two tables in Stormont, strategically placed so not to look like either were too comfortable with the other; it was a moment of great significance. I remember watching the news that day and being excited and amazed that something was about to happen. As the years passed and the two grew from cautious colleagues to good friends who genuinely got on well with each other it was a great example of the power of Grace.
A shared anger turned into a shared joke.
It gave us hope that no situation is too far gone to be saved.
Grace takes a leap of faith. Both men took that leap in those days. Having seen the other as an enemy it must have taken great courage fully knowing the backlash they would inevitable experience from their prospective communities.
The leap is even greater for those who have suffered at the hands of violence. It’s an abyss too wide for many.
Healing takes time and maybe it will never come and as much as I believe in the power of Grace, many will not be able to give their enemy the benefit of the doubt. They should never be judged for that but rather given examples of Grace that in time could provide enough light for them to step forward.
Grace doesn’t wait until everyone is ready. It doesn’t wait for an apology or for justice. The time for Grace is now not tomorrow. You can’t justify Grace. You can’t make it fit your agenda. It doesn’t work because you feel good about the situation, it just works. It’s the only things that truly changes you.
The alternative then is to grow weary and for hate to become the undercurrent under which everything else shakily stands. It may feel comforting for a while but it never leads to healing, just bitterness. This is why Grace is not just for the one receiving forgiveness but for she who delivers it.
For millions the Lord’s prayer has become a familiar liturgy, the power of its words having been somewhat lost over time. “Forgive us, as we forgive those who trespass against us” is not simply a nice rhetoric to monotonously recite during school assemblies or Sunday morning church services, but a challenging call to live differently. It’s a reminder that there is no “us” and “them” but just “we”. Lord, offer my enemy, the one who has murdered and stolen from me, as much Grace as you are willing to offer me.
Nothing less will do.
That takes courage and a prophetic vision into what is possible when everything inside you or everyone around you tells you to run. Only a few will ever fully experience Grace but those that do will change the world. I believe that is the cornerstone of which the work of Martin McGuinness will be remembered.
A couple of years ago Martin McGuinness appeared on a stage as hundreds of young people prayed for him. Thousands of teenagers, many who were not old enough to remember the worst of the troubles praying for a man who was responsible for much of it.
What a young, fiery and angry Martin McGuinness would have made of this idea is one that only a few people are privy too. But I will take a guess that he could never have even begun to imagine such a scene.
This is a stark image and one that I believe we must return to over and over and over. It’s a vision for what can happen when we take a risk. When we invite into our home, the one who broke up our home. When we offer security and Love to those who seek to bring us harm. When we decide that our anger and hatred is not allowing us to experience life and Love and Hope then it is time to allow Grace to do it’s work.
Grace has nothing to do with what is fair. It is bigger than any of us and can’t be easily argued against or understood. But it can most definitely be felt. That is the only way we will know it is real. Not when we try and understand it.
So may Martin McGuinness’s legacy be one of what can happen when we take risks and let Grace do it’s work.
Because tonight Big Ian and Marty will be hoping we follow their example.
It’s up to us now, to not let them down.
It’s fair to say that in the past few years I’ve gone on somewhat of a pilgrimage with my faith. I’m a Christian and remain one and I believe in Jesus and I believe there is power for good in the world. I believe the church can be a wonderful mix of people who can Love and accept everyone regardless of anything intrinsic about them. I believe in this crazy story of a Carpenter from Nazareth who completely upended (sometimes literally) the way people viewed God.
But I’ve not always found that those things have impacted my life. Continue reading