Money talk

Jesus taught that if you wanted His kingdom you’d have to get rid of everything else first (Matthew 13:44, Luke 14:33). Paul warns us that the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil (1 Timothy 6:10).

Scandalously, Paul’s words are often quoted by Christians for the wrong reasons. They use Paul to defend themselves against Jesus. “We mustn’t love money” they say (“but we’ll still have plenty. Phew! That got Jesus out of the way”).

Jesus, hammer-like, put it like this: “You’ll either love God and hate money, or the other way around. You choose” (a paraphrase of Matthew 6:24). Jesus says that if you love God you will hate money! (This is less often quoted by Christians.)

Joe Average wouldn’t deny that he loves money. At least he’s honest. Most Christians guiltily deny that they love their cash and make up pretty excuses: “It’s all right to possess money, just don’t let it possess you”. Rather weak, this, compared with Jesus’ line on money which amounted to: “Get rid of it”.

Money keeps two thirds of the world in poverty for a fat minority. Money causes murder, divorce, slander, selfishness. Money drives people to an early grave, promising happiness it never gives. Money brings out the ugly in people. Money kills. (And you love it, don’t you?)

Stop ignoring Jesus. Why sing songs which decorate Him with titles while ignoring large sections of what he taught?

The church in Acts, with its sharing of money, shows us the teachings of Jesus in practice (Acts 4:32-34). Money is channelled into the apostolic work and the justice of providing for the needy in the community. It is surrendered “for the sake of the gospel” (Mark 10:29).

There was an old nun who was asked to explain her vow of poverty, chastity and obedience. She replied, with a twinkle in her eye: “Got no money, got no man, do as I’m told!” I imagine she could look Jesus in the eye.

Fear in the fog

“...in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear!”
- William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

I had a strange experience last night.

It was late - after 10pm. I went for my customary walk and pray through the large park behind the roads where I live. It’s my time to close one week and open another one: something of a lifeline. I listen to my thoughts, to the silence, and to God.

Last night, was a dark night and misty.

I got to the park and could only see three or four steps in front of me as I walked, so thickly was I surrounded by fog. I quickly got lost, even though I know the park well. Trees loomed up out of the darkness. Unexpected hills and dips in the ground took me by surprise. It was surreal. Strange. Uncanny.

Suddenly I heard a footstep behind me; I froze. It might not sound very scary now, but believe me, my heart was hammering. Then more footsteps, not far off. But I was completely blind to who it was. I began to walk away. The footsteps followed, unevenly. Pad, pad... pad, pad pad...

I headed out to the open green, away from the path and the footsteps didn't follow. I walked on through the pale sea on my three foot round island of grass, blindly.

Unexpectedly, oddly (I thought I'd walked in a straight line), some time later I found myself back at the same tree-lined path. I decided to follow it out of the park. Then I heard them again. Footsteps. Not far off. Uneven. Pad, pad... pad, pad, pad. They'd waited for me, at the path...

I quickened my pace, then slowed right down. Pad, pad... pad, pad, pad... pad. The footsteps were following me, but keeping out of sight. I was frightened.

Then – suddenly – I realised. It wasn't footsteps: it was leaves.

Leaves, big horse chestnut leaves, loosened by the damp air, were dropping off the trees and landing on the ground near me, in the fog. Pad, pad... pad.

I had to laugh at myself. Man of God? Leader? Radical Christian? Afraid of falling leaves just like Mr Jelly!

I walked on down the path and it was then that God spoke, in my heart.

“What were you afraid of?”

“Er,” (feeling foolish in the presence of the Almighty) “ - leaves, Lord.”

“No, what were you actually afraid of?”

“Well, that someone was following me.”

“Why were you afraid of that?”

“Well, they might have been a mugger; they might have attacked me or stabbed me, here in this big, foggy park...”

Then, in that moment, I realised (God didn’t even have to say it as such): how wonky, how back-to-front our fears are. We fear those who may hurt the body; but how often we run pell-mell into the sin which can damn the soul.

We’re afraid of leaves. The real enemy – the sins which cut us off from life – we’re old familiar friends with.

I walked on, humbled till I came to part of the park which was lit by a beacon light high up on a war memorial.

There, I asked God last night to give me a healthy fear of sin, and – in the right sense – of Him.

"Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell." (Jesus, in Matthew 10:28)