Last week I looked at the journey from loneliness to solitude, the first of the three movements towards spiritual growth outlined in Henri Nouwen’s inspiring book Reaching Out.

Today we look at the second transformation – a journey described by Nouwen as being from hostility to hospitality.

When Hostility Hides in Plain Sight

Perhaps like me, your first response to this invitation is a defensive, “No, I don’t think this one has anything in it for me. I’m not an aggressive person, and what’s more, I like a wide range of people (I genuinely do), and my natural posture towards others tends to be open not closed. In short, I think I can tick the ‘already achieved’ box on this one.” Fortunately our first response does not have to be defining, and the more I have mulled this over the more I realise I still have some way to go.

Difference and Distance: The Breeding Ground of Suspicion

There are many reasons we might not see another person well. I have previously written about the dangers of difference and distance, so soberly unpacked in the biblical story of Joseph, where his brothers sell him into slavery because his coat of many colours marked him as being different, while his father’s decision to keep him at home created distance between him and his siblings. If people seem a bit different and we don’t bump into them in any meaningful way, suspicion and hostility is often an automatic response. “You are not one of us” we quickly conclude, and when we view someone as being an outsider, it is only a short step to thinking that the respect, affection and concern we show to those in our circle can be dropped.

Creating Space for Strangers

Nouwen talks about providing space for strangers to “cast off their strangeness and become fellow human beings.” It is about spotting what we have in common, rather than what keeps us apart. It might take a bit of time, especially if our different cultural backgrounds mean humour is not understood, and priorities seem to be different. It can take a while before we see how superficial these differences are.

A Counter Cultural Kind of Love

At a time when many Christians are stridently insisting that Christians should be seen to be different to the prevailing culture, I wonder if this is a way we can do it. Loving the stranger is rather Jesus like – and it is counter cultural – especially at this perplexing time. After all, in Luke 10:25-37 Jesus weaves a story where the dreaded Samaritan is the hero of the day. Despite the “otherness” of being Samaritan, when confronted by a beaten and broken man on a lonely road, he immediately realised that love demanded that he stop and help. Others passing by had more compelling agendas. Their tasks seemed more important to them, so they hurried on to make sure they did not miss their appointment with trivia. It’s pretty counter cultural to love those who aren’t part of your circle. It’s challenging to tell stories where the supposed villain turns out to be the saint, and the home team is portrayed as mean and small. Jesus took that risk – and risk it was… certainly it impacted his poll ratings to the point where the majority cried out “crucify him crucify him”. We really don’t like it when people tell us to love our enemies.

Moving Beyond Labels

There is a trickiness to this for Christians. Ironically, because we follow Jesus, we often divide the world into Christians and non-Christians. I grew up in apartheid South Africa. It was a society where people were classified as “white” or “non-white”. It’s both alienating and insulting to classify people as “non” something, especially if the thing that is getting all the nods of approval is what they are not. To be honest, I don’t know what to do about this. Following Jesus is a big deal and does make a real difference. If you think it doesn’t, it could be that it’s not Jesus you are following. Can we be genuinely open hearted and hospitable to those we consider to not have made the most significant and important decision of all – the decision to follow Jesus?

Actually, I suspect that is where the magic of Christian witness begins. If I am truly hospitable, I see what Jesus wants me to see. Here is someone originally made in God’s own image, loved by God, and having endless dignity and worth because of this. What is more, this is someone God has brought across my path – so of course I must be open to them. I look for what unites us – our common humanity – and celebrate this. I remember that I was once a seeker – and to be honest, still am – not because I think there is someone other than Jesus to be found, but because I want to know Jesus more deeply. There is a hunger that leads us into God’s kingdom, and there is a hunger that leads us on in God’s kingdom. We are probably both hungry for more. And yes, we have both made mistakes and need forgiveness.

Does that lead to words of witness and gentle persuasion to at least give God a chance? How can it possibly not? It is not my own life I am sharing if I let you into everything except that which matters most to me. And if you reject it… well love is not conditional, and we can still joke about the footie, and marvel at rainbows, and weep together over the dreaded C word, or tut tut over the price of fuel. And in God’s own good time – well actually it is up to God what God does in God’s own very good time.

For my part, I am called to journey from hostility to hospitality. That means I don’t lean in to “othering” stories that tell how awful “they” are. Actually, the more confronting “they” are, the more I ask that Jesus would open my eyes and heart, and that there would be a way to turn the enemy into a beloved friend.

Article supplied with thanks to Brian Harris.

About the Author: Brian is a speaker, teacher, leader, writer, author and respected theologian who is founding director of the AVENIR Leadership Institute, fostering leaders who will make a positive impact on the world.

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I live in a house with too much stuff. That means when friends come over, my wife and I move the stuff from our living room into our bedroom. But when the friends leave, we have to move the stuff off our bed back into the living room.

We never get rid of the stuff. We keep shuffling it around. Nothing changes.

Is that how life feels? Like we don’t get anywhere?

Every year at New Year’s Eve, there’s the promise of a fresh start. But by Easter time, the world is back to where it was. Worse, I’m back to where I was. I’m the same person. My life hasn’t gone anywhere.

Why can’t I be better? Sometimes I blame the universe. The universe itself isn’t getting any better. The universe is like my 20 year old car, which leaks oil onto my driveway. It creaks and groans when I drive it. That’s because its parts are grinding away and falling apart.

If this universe isn’t getting any better, then what chance do I have of getting better? But what if there’s another way?

If you ever have any computer problems, then what you need is a 14 year old in the family. Whenever my wife has problems with her computer she calls our son, who simply turns off her computer, counts to 10, and then turns it on. Taaa-Daaaah! In other words, our son reboots the computer, and it works again.

That’s exactly what Easter offers us. A reboot. Because something in us — and in our world — is deeply broken, and we can’t fix it on our own.

The Easter Reboot

Maybe we know some of the facts of the Easter story? Jesus Christ, God himself, becomes one of us. He dies on a cross on Easter Friday. But he also rises back to life again on Easter Sunday.

What we might not know is that, when Jesus rose from the dead, it also rebooted the universe.

You see, when Jesus died on Easter Friday, it shut down the universe. Jesus, the Giver of Life, gives up his own life for us. God, the Maker of the Universe is dead. The lights are turned off. But when Jesus rises from the dead, back to life, on Easter Sunday, it reboots the universe. The lights are turned on again but … brighter than they were before.

It’s a reboot!

Recently, as a doctor, I did a refresher course on Cardiac Pulmonary Resuscitation (CPR). So much has changed in CPR since I was a junior doctor many years ago. The biggest change is the invention of the Automated External Defibrillator (AED) pads. Now, almost anyone can place AED pads on the heart attack victim, and the pads shock their heart back to life.

We Can Reboot the Heart!

But Jesus does something even better than this. When Jesus rises from the dead, he kickstarts a new life for us and the world. Yes, Jesus rises from the dead with a new and better body. But he also begins the project of restoring this universe into a better universe – his Kingdom, which will be filled with his love, mercy, peace, and justice. And there’s the promise of a new life for us – which Jesus calls Eternal Life – which begins now and continues into the life-to-come.

Christians believe we need this supercharged reboot because our chief problem isn’t only that we’re ageing and crumbling. It’s that we’ve cut ourselves off from God, the source of life and all goodness. Being cut off from God shapes us on the inside and means that our hearts don’t naturally move toward what is true, good, and beautiful on their own.

But when Jesus rises from the dead, it kickstarts the universe back into the direction of what’s true, good, and beautiful. And if we put our trust in him, Jesus also kickstarts our “hearts” back into the right direction.

So how can we receive this supercharged rebooted life? The Bible tells us to respond to Jesus’ call.

Take the Call

Whenever I receive a phone call from a number that I don’t recognise, I ignore it. But recently I took a call from a number I didn’t recognise. I’m glad I did. It was a person reaching out to me who I hadn’t been in touch with for a while. By taking his call, I got connected with him, and received an unexpected boost.

In a similar way, Easter is God’s way of reaching out to us, offering us a reboot. God is initiating a connection with us. We can respond by accepting God’s Easter call, maybe in a prayer, and connecting with him. We can ask Jesus to kickstart our heart in the right direction.

For a long time, I’ve found New Year’s Eves to be depressing. My family and I watch the fireworks on our screens. But it’s never impressive. I’ve also been too lazy to go to the city, to fight the crowds, to see the fireworks in person. I’m locked in a cycle of being a victim of my own apathy.

Last New Year’s Eve, friends offered us free tickets to see the world famous fireworks at The Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge. At first I said no because I didn’t want to be in the crowds and heat.

But my family snapped me out of my cycle of half-heartedness and said “What are you thinking? Someone is offering us free tickets to see the fireworks. We have to go!” So we went. And I’m so glad we did. Imagine missing out on the fireworks when all I had to do was accept the tickets?

Every year we can stay locked in our cycle of apathy and sometimes even despair. How can we ever break out of this and become a better person?

Easter offers us the chance of a supercharged reboot. We can be filled with Jesus’ Spirit of resurrection – his life and power. We can have a new life – Eternal Life – which empowers us to a new and better life, both now and in the life-to-come. All we have to do is take the call.

About the Author: Sam is a theologian, preacher, author, evangelist, ethicist, cultural analyst and medical doctor.

Article supplied with thanks to Espresso Theology.

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Some of my most precious memories of my dad revolve around a car—like picking me up from roller skating when I was twelve, and driving me to my first job out of school, and. . . the night I called him at 1am to say I’d missed the last train home.

He drove an hour in to the city to get me and went to work bleary-eyed the next morning. I promised I’d never do it again.

A few days later, I did it again.

A car, it turns out, plays a special role in my family history. My father first locked eyes on my mother at a party in London, and later asked her out for a country drive, picking her up in his 1950s Rover sedan. That car was his treasured possession. Mum and dad soon became an item, but there was a problem. Mum was about to move to Peru. Dad took her to the airport, then five months later arrived in Peru himself—to propose. And the best part of the story? 

He’d sold his beloved Rover to pay for the plane ticket.

Giving Up Something, Changing Everything

It makes me wonder what my own treasured possession is and who I’d give it up for. For my mum, dad selling his Rover wasn’t just about a plane ticket—it was a sign of her worth in his eyes.

Two biblical stories come to mind—the first, about a wealthy young professional who asks Jesus what he has to do to get to heaven. When Jesus tells him to sell his possessions and follow him, the guy walks away—he can’t let go of his goods. The second is about Jesus’ friend, Mary, who throws him a dinner party, and halfway through brings in a bottle of precious perfume worth a year’s wages. It’s probably a family heirloom, passed down through generations, deeply treasured. She breaks open the jar and pours it on Jesus—signifying his worth in her eyes.

The Question That Reveals What We Truly Treasure

I sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if dad had kept his Rover instead of buying that plane ticket. My brother and I might not even be here. If the direction of our lives depends on the quality of our questions, maybe this one holds the power to shape not just our own destinies but others’: 

What is my most treasured possession and who would I give it up for?

The answer would have to reveal where our true treasure lies.

Article supplied with thanks to Sheridan Voysey.

About the Author: Sheridan Voysey is an author and broadcaster on faith and spirituality. His latest book is called Reflect with Sheridan. Download his FREE inspirational printable The Creed here.

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God is up to something in our world. Have you noticed?

Every day the headlines bring another exposure: hidden abuse, financial corruption, and insidious cover-ups. Sin is being uncovered across the globe, and we are confronted almost daily with humanity’s frailty.

The Epstein files are one recent example. Politicians, business leaders and members of royalty have been named in connection with the abuse of young women and children. Where wealth and status once offered a shield from scrutiny, perpetrators are now being called to account.

We saw it in the #MeToo movement — a tidal wave of women courageously naming abuse by powerful men. Entire systems of entrenched misogyny are now beginning to crumble.

We’ve seen it in the exposure of institutional child sexual abuse. In Australia, the 2013 Royal Commission revealed horrific patterns of systemic failure, with trauma still reverberating through families and generations.

We’ve seen it with the violent mistreatment of indigenous peoples in our colonial past. In Australia we’ve realised that as we’ve studied the travesties in Europe, we’ve omitted the atrocities against the Aborigines and Torres Strait Islander peoples in our own land.

We’ve even seen it in the Church. Pastors and leaders who once enjoyed global accolades have suddenly been exposed for abusing wealth and position in the name of God.

It’s shocking. It’s humiliating. It’s ugly. Our trust in leadership has been broken, our role models smashed. We’ve found ourselves disillusioned by the disturbing mismatch between public image and the private character of those we once looked up to.

But in the midst of the darkness, can you see the Holy Spirit at work?

The Holy Spirit is a Truth Teller

Jesus said that one of the roles of the Spirit is to convict us of sin and lead us into truth (John 16:3,8). The Holy Spirit is a truth-teller, exposing lies and deceit so that freedom can be found. The author of Hebrews describes the Spirit’s revelation as a “double-edged sword.” Piercingly accurate, it separates truth from the false, penetrating our thoughts and attitudes so that everything is “uncovered and laid bare.” (Heb. 4:12,13) Truth-telling is a work of God.

For all the grief of exposure, there is an upside.

The sins now being uncovered are not new. Adultery, hypocrisy, abuse of power and exploitation of the vulnerable are age-old symptoms of the human condition. What is new is the willingness to confront them. For generations, society has looked the other way. We’ve denied, deflected and protected the status quo. Leaders in the media, business, politics and the church have all been complicit.

But now, we’re opening our eyes and having the courage to see it.

For it does take courage… to keep the lights on when we want to close our eyes. To sit with the ugliness of sin instead of reaching for fig leaves. No wonder we deny it, deflect it and cover it up. We’d rather walk on by, circle round the pretence and maintain the status quo. We all do it. Who wants the toxicity of our hearts to be seen? Who wants the masks of pretence to be removed? Like the accused standing in the dock, we hang our heads, pick up fig leaves and cover our shame. Yet, the Spirit comes like fire, seeking to burn away what is false (Heb. 12:29) – not to destroy but to purify.

The Gift of Truth

We must not miss this moment. For without truth, there can be no grace.

Indeed, truth is a gift of God – first for the victims; for the protection and the healing of the women, the children, the indigenous, the poor and the vulnerable. Trauma cannot be fully healed without first being acknowledged.

But truth is also a gift for the perpetrators; for the freedom and redemption of the Epsteins, the abusers and those confined to prison cells. Restoration cannot be received where sin is denied. God’s conviction is not condemnation; it is an invitation to freedom (John 8:32).

This is the ultimate aim of our sovereign Truth-teller – freedom through grace.

What About Us?

As we watch truth surface at a societal level, we must ask what God is doing within us.

Macro exposure invites micro reflection. As we witness truth-telling around us, we’re invited to see it in our own hearts. We must take the log out of our own eye even as we see the speck in others (Matt. 7:3). Where is the Holy Spirit shining a light in my own heart? Where is God inviting deeper honesty?

It may not be as serious as an extra-marital affair or criminal activity. It may simply be that subtle exaggeration, a quiet resentment, a sideways comment, the need to protect image, the instinct to hide weakness. The same Spirit exposing corruption in systems uncovers hidden motives within us.

As we read the headlines, can we also read our hearts? This cultural moment is not only a reckoning; it is an invitation. Truth sets us free – but only if we are willing to see it.

Article supplied with thanks to God Conversations.

About the Author: Tania Harris is a pastor, speaker, author and the founder of God Conversations.

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I’ve always been intrigued by Jesus’ instruction, “Let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No’; anything beyond this comes from the evil one” (Matt 5:37).

It’s refreshingly simple, and an invitation to engage in straightforward speech and make promises that can be trusted. If I say ‘Yes, I will do that’ I should do it. If I need to add 25 qualifiers (provided the weather is good, or I don’t get a better offer, or…), I am in real danger of becoming untrustworthy – someone whose word never means anything more than “perhaps”.

What Jesus Isn’t Saying

Now there are things that I don’t think Jesus means when he says this. I don’t think it is a prohibition on curiosity (“don’t ask me why, I have already said no”). Nor do I think it is glorifying monosyllabic communication, where we refuse to allow others to understand our way of thinking and we keep them at arms length – simply cutting them off with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.

Context: Oaths, Evasion, and Speech that Reveals

When understanding any passage of Scripture, context is important. In this instance it is Jesus warning against making oaths that look good, but which you are unlikely to keep (Matt 5:33-37). Jesus was beyond exasperated at the practice of making promises which could be easily broken – often by appealing to some supposedly noble cause that was simply an escape route from responsibility. His point is simple. Speech is supposed to reveal, not conceal. Beware those whose words have hidden meanings, or who use noble words to gloss over deep wrongs. Speech should accurately reflect your intentions, and if it does not, it “comes from the evil one”.

Now many may think this is a not very subtle jab at politicians who use thousands of words to say nothing, or to hide the real issues. The old joke goes, “How do you know when a politician is lying?” Answer: “Their lips are moving.” Ouch. Yes, that is the kind of situation Jesus is trying to avoid – let ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes’ – Let ‘No’ be ‘No’.

Values as the Anchor of Clear Decisions

A while back someone did something to me that was clearly wrong. An indignant and well meaning friend immediately dived in with some advice on how I should retaliate.

“No – no I’m not going to do that,” I replied.

“But why not?” he asked. “In the circumstances it’s a relatively mild response. You can’t just let them get away with it.”

I paused for a moment, considered his view, and then said again. “No – no I’m not going to do that.”

“But why not?” he asked again.

I paused and thought some more, and then said, “Because I wouldn’t be me if I did that. It’s just not who I am. And just because someone else behaved badly doesn’t mean I should as well.”

“Hmmm. perhaps,” he replied, clearly not fully convinced.

I think ‘No’ is ‘No’ and ‘Yes’ is ‘Yes’ when our values guide our decisions. And Jesus (as always) is right; anything more in those circumstances comes from the evil one. Saying more feeds the temptation to back away from who we are and what our commitments are, especially if holding to our yes or no has become a little difficult.

Now naturally I am not pushing for the dangerous or the reckless. Just because you said ‘Yes’ to a husband who beats and torments you, does not mean that you are forever saddled with that tragic ‘Yes’. Sometimes our ‘Yes’ must turn into the firmest ‘No’. Sometimes…

A Practical Invitation: Review Your Recent “Yes” and “No”

So why this post? I don’t think we are at risk of failing to realise that there are times when ‘yes’ can (and should) become ‘no’. I think the greater risk is that we are forgetting that words are not meant to be twisted. That promises should be linked to values. That if we need endless words and explanations to justify a decision, it’s usually a warning that the decision is poor.

Why not think over 4 or 5 recent decisions that you have made? What led you to decide as you did? Was it for purely pragmatic reasons. If so, pragmatism might be an adequate reason for those decisions to change. But which of your decisions flowed directly from your values? Ah… this is where the amber warning light starts to flash. When pragmatism steers you away from your value based decisions ask yourself, “At what point do I stop becoming me. Because if I no longer hold to my values, who am I?”

And why not aim for a week where ‘Yes’ is ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ is ‘No’ – and you delight in the simplicity and responsibility of this…

Article supplied with thanks to Brian Harris.

About the Author: Brian is a speaker, teacher, leader, writer, author and respected theologian who is founding director of the AVENIR Leadership Institute, fostering leaders who will make a positive impact on the world.

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I think it’s Brené Brown who said that “no” is just an invitation to a different conversation. That’s a helpful reminder to dive into opportunity thinking, rather than to assume all is lost when faced with a rejection. But how might this look in practice?

Be Careful What You Pray For

There is an intriguing Latin phrase, numinibus vota exaudita malignis, which roughly translated means “enormous prayers which heaven in vengeance answered”. Attributed to the Roman poet Juvenal, the idea appears in CS Lewis’ writing on prayer, where he notes that some prayers which on the surface seem benign, or even noble, might, if answered in the affirmative, actually do great harm. It might sound nice to get everything we ask for, but it can leave us undisciplined, unrealistic and entitled. Put differently, “all sunshine makes a desert” – and often struggle is a more loyal friend than comfort.

When the “No” Hits Hard

It’s easy to trot this sentiment out, but what about those times when the no isn’t to a request for a second serve of ice cream, but a desperate plea for healing, or restoring a relationship, or finding much needed work? Some things matter, and the “no” response can be a devastating blow.

Framing Rejection with Purpose

The long term impact of each “no” in our life is greatly influenced by how we frame them. See each as a failure, and that is what they become. By contrast, if you view the “no” as moving you one step closer to an appropriate “yes”, you will feel more positive. “No” can help to clarify things. It is usually better than a “perhaps” which, while often meant to soften the blow, can leave you hanging on far too long.

“No” gets us to ponder alternatives. “Well, if it’s not that, then what?” “No” releases us to try new options. It invites us to creativity, and to consider fresh possibilities. I’ve often heard people say, “well, it’s not what I initially planned, but I’m now rather glad that it’s turned out this way.”

“No” also gets us to think about our present situation more carefully. What if it is “no” because we are meant to be where we are? As the saying goes, “the grass isn’t greener on the other side, but where it is watered most.” The children of Israel did not get all the pleasure they could have derived from the manna from heaven simply because their heart was set on meat (Ex 16, Num 11). Some people have been infected with perpetual restlessness, and are never able to reap the harvest of a long innings in one place. Familiarity breeds contempt, and many people have learnt the value of what they had, only after they have lost it.

Knowing the Final Result Changes Everything

I know you are not supposed to, but when watching a televised rugby match once the game is already finished, I always google the result first. Be it the desired result or not, it leaves me so much calmer as I watch. I especially enjoy it if my team wins. When you know the final result, it transforms the way you look at set backs. If the referee makes a bad decision, you remain calm – after all, what does it matter, your team still wins. If the other side gets an easy try – what does it matter? After all, it’s just a consolation prize for them, because you know, your team wins!

So imagine this… What if you could watch an interview of you taken towards the end of your life. In it you hear yourself discuss your life, and it’s many ups and downs. But then you hear yourself say it. “You know what my deepest feeling is? It’s gratitude. I’ve had so many experiences in life, and here I am at 93, just deeply grateful for the fulfilling life I’ve been privileged to have. It hasn’t always been easy, but it has assuredly been good.” If you knew that is what you were going to say towards the end, wouldn’t it change the way you faced the current “no” in your life? Despite the “no”, why not make gratitude at the end a goal. In fact, why not start practicing gratitude now?

Holding On to a Greater Yes

And of course there is more. If you are a follower of Jesus, as many of the readers of this blog are, you have some firm promises to hold onto. Even if during this life you face a perpetual “no”, there is the promise of an eternal “yes”. Paul describes it beautifully in 2 Cor 4:16–18:

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

Because of that firm hope, I chose to be grateful each day – be it a yes or a no day. As poet Robert Browning put it, “Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be.”

Article supplied with thanks to Brian Harris.

About the Author: Brian is a speaker, teacher, leader, writer, author and respected theologian who is founding director of the AVENIR Leadership Institute, fostering leaders who will make a positive impact on the world.

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My brush with the law taught me more than I expected about God’s plan for living.

When I was a young man, I was a thief. I don’t know a better way to say it. I would sneak into stores, steal things, tuck them into my pocket, then take them to secondhand goods buyers and sell them for a low price. I did this so I could afford to buy food and by saying that I am not trying to justify myself, just give you the full picture. I got good at it! Perhaps a little too good, because I also got sloppy and one day, in the action of tucking a purloined item into my jacket’s inner pocket I felt a hand come down on my shoulder. The manager of the store looked at me with hard eyes, then took me to the back room and called the police. Soon an officer came and I was taken to the nearby police station, where I gave my confession. My world came crashing down. I had broken the law and was about to pay for it. 

The law is a funny thing. In Victoria, the state where I live, it is legally an offence to fly a kite in a public place in such a way that it causes “annoyance”. If someone was flying a kite and they struck me or hurt me in any way, then it would be an injury and I am sure another law would cover that. This one is specifically about flying a kite in an annoying way. I’m not sure what would qualify as being annoying, but perhaps I would know it if I saw it? Either way, if you fly a kite in an annoying way then you could be fined up to $A826.10. The section of legislation this law is included in is titled “Offences relating to the good order of towns etc” and goes back to 1966. Perhaps there was a kite craze going on at the time?

There are some fascinating laws from around the world that make news occasionally. There is apparently a town in Norway called Longyearbyen in which it is illegal to die. In Singapore it is illegal to sell chewing gum. In Devonport, Tasmania, a local ordinance prohibits walking backwards after sunset.

At a glance, these seem arbitrary but interestingly, laws reveal something about the places where they are implemented. Longyearbyen is so cold that bodies do not decompose after death which can cause issues with disease, so elderly residents go to the warmer climate to pass away. In Singapore, people started sticking chewing gum on train doors causing them to operate incorrectly and hold up public transport, so it was banned. There seem to be practical reasons behind most laws. I’m still not sure about the walking backwards in Devonport ordinance though.

Laws reveal a lot about a society’s values. What a group of people find important will often be enshrined in law, and that tells us what a community holds to be important enough to institute fines or punishments if someone goes against it.

At their best, laws should be applied to everyone. Laws should provide protections against the arbitrary exercise of power, and be clear about who can make, apply and enforce law. When we look at laws then, we can figure out who they are to benefit and who they may disadvantage. Good laws are fair and can be equally applied. But there are also laws that advantage those in authority, that are not able to be applied equally. To shore up support for his facist government, Mussolini introduced the Acerbo Law, which gave him effective control of the government in 1924. By 1926, Italy was a one-party country. Clearly that law was not put in place to protect those without power, but to support those who wanted to exercise it over everyone else.

So, when we look at laws, we get a sense of the values of the creator of those laws, of what’s important to them.

Perhaps the most well-known commandments of God are the Ten Commandments given to Moses. Even before I knew what they were, I remember watching Charlton Heston in the 1956 Hollywood epic The Ten Commandments. I think it’s interesting then to look at the Ten Commandments in that light and ask ourselves what they reveal about God, His character and values.

The commandments are found in Exodus 20. I am sure you have heard of them before, even if you’ve never read them for yourself. In case you haven’t, we can essentially divide them into two sections. 

The First Four

In the first four commandments, God addresses how His people should treat Him. He says, “I saved you from your slavery, so believe only in Me. You should treat my name carefully because I’m God. Don’t worship things of this world like the Egyptians did. Take a day off a week from working and rest in Me to worship Me so we can be together.”

The first four commandments make it clear who the Lawgiver is, which every set of laws should do. It makes it clear why the One giving the law has any authority to give the law—because He created everything and He saved His people. That’s the basis for His lawgiving. This tells us much about the character of God. He is a Creator, not a destroyer. He wants to save His people, to help them.

The Next Six

Having established who He is and the right He has to make laws, the next six laws tell us about how to treat one another. Don’t kill, don’t steal, remember your parents, don’t lie about your neighbour, don’t commit adultery, don’t be envious of what others have. 

What do these laws tell us about the Lawgiver? They tell me that God wants peace between people, that He wants us to love one another; that He wants a community who can live safely with one another and without fear.

I knew that commandment when I decided to steal. For some reason I assumed I had an excuse to ignore it. I justified it to myself. But those justifications didn’t stand when confronted with the person I had stolen from. 

I ask myself if people stuck to those last six laws how would the world be different? If no-one killed, would the world be better? If no-one cheated? If no-one (including me) stole? Can you even imagine never having to lock your house or car? That sounds like heaven to me.

These commandments are from the Old Testament and were given to a people who are very different from us in culture, in understanding—yet they still speak to us today. 

Jesus was once asked which of these laws was the most important. I think His reply is perfect.

“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments” (Matthew 22:37).

There is our answer. If laws tell us about the one who creates and gives those laws, then God’s laws are telling us that He is a God of love. I think laws that are based on love are laws that are worth keeping. Though He is a God who gives law, He is also a God who saves.

Sitting in that police station, all I could think of was those I had let down, those who would be hurt by my actions. I felt as low as I ever had been. Then the policeman returned and told me that the owner of the store had decided to have mercy on me, that he wasn’t pressing charges. The policeman gave me some places to go for financial help so I wouldn’t steal again and let me walk out the door free! I couldn’t believe it. I felt like I could fly. I was free.

That’s when it really hit me. God’s laws aren’t there to catch me out. They are there to help me know how to live freely. Since that moment I have never stolen a single thing because of that shop owner’s forgiveness. Incredibly, God’s laws reveal that is His character as well, He will forgive when we get it wrong, and gently remind us of His laws so we can live our lives based on love and live a life of peace. That’s why I follow His laws today.

Article supplied with thanks to Sign of the Times Magazine.

About the Author: Justin Bone supports and trains pastors and congregations around Victoria, Australia, for the Seventh-day Adventist Church. He is passionate about helping people understand the Bible better.

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These three pictures below show me in different places or contexts. In one, I am in the studio, in another, I am outside a public library, in the regional town of Singleton. The third and final picture places me outside a coffee shop (leaning into its name, and my own sense of faith and spirituality, I wanted to make a joke about me doing ‘the Lord’s work’!)

Each of these pictures captures a moment in time. If there is one common element, it is the fact that I am smiling. Each time, I have taken a selfie, and I have been able to smile at the camera that is looking back at me simply because I know I am doing something I love. Engaging with others, reading a newspaper, writing scripts – these are among the moments when I sense my life is approaching the lip of my cup. There is peace and there is satisfaction.

And yet, away from these pictures and the spaces depicted in them, there is a deep sense of uncertainty. Questions persist: “Where am I going?” “What am I doing with my life?” “How else can I contribute and make a difference?“

Recently, it was the 15th anniversary of my son’s death. On September 28, 2010, my late wife, Celena, and I gave back to the God we both believed in our second child. In that moment, he joined his sister, Amber Rose, who had passed away a decade earlier, on October 10, 2000.

I know that much of my questioning and discernment is coloured and impacted by these losses. Grief is a constant presence in the lives of those who experience it (I have come to describe it as a form of emotional limping, where your gait, the way you walk and do life, is changed forever).

A psychologist could have a field day with the whole mindset that I now bring to my daily dynamics and interactions. Being a Dad without any fathering to do and a husband without a spouse to love is a unique and singular experience; your sense of identity is rocked, and you question so much about your purpose in life, your direction, your roles.

When I found myself returning to the gym, some years ago, I used to tell people that I was doing it to honour my wife and children, all of whom were born with various medical and health challenges. Their bodies didn’t work the way some of us can so easily take for granted. I saw it as my responsibility, my obligation, to work on my health and fitness, because at least I had a choice.

This, I now see, is flawed logic. I need to work on my health because that is a good, right, and important thing to do, in and of itself. Celena, Amber and Brodie don’t need me to lift weights, run long distances or stretch out on the gym floor because, right now, they are with the Lord, in Heaven. For them, there is no more hurt and heartache, only peace and joy.

I go for coffee and read the paper because it is something I enjoy doing. I volunteer at the radio station because I now see I have skills and experiences that can contribute to what this station is about. I hone my writing because I continue to believe I have a story to tell and a message to impart.

The places I visit and the roles I play at each of them are pointers that my work here on this earth is far from over. Rather than pursuing the image of filling my cup, I am reminded of the Bible account of Jesus attending a wedding in Cana. There, he is asked by his mother to do something about the shortage of wine that has occurred.

In a reflection on this passage that I heard recently, it was observed that, as humans, we tend to point out all the empty casks we have to fill – out of duty, obligation and loyalty – with water. It can be tempting to feel overwhelmed with the magnitude of the task that lies before us.

Here’s the rub, however. That Bible story is very clear that Jesus only identified six casks of water for Him to transform. In the ensuing miracle, I find a life lesson to take into each radio studio, each coffee shop, each public library: “I have given you six casks of water to fill, David – it’s up to me to turn the contents into wine.”

“I have given you six casks of water to fill, David – it’s up to me to turn the contents into wine.”

Article supplied with thanks to Rhema 99.7.

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Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvellous deeds among all peoples. PSALM 96:1–3 (NIV)

Read Psalm 96.

I love singing at church. For many years I’ve sung a song based on Psalm 96. The chorus goes: ‘Worship the Lord in holy array, tremble before Him all the earth, our God reigns.’

This song feels so uplifting, so joyful, such a delight to be able to focus on God. I reckon most of us enjoy singing in church, especially as so many songs speak to our heart of worship for God and encourage us to uphold Him and praise Him.

Another song we sing at church is called ‘Build My Life’. In the second verse we sing: ‘Jesus, the Name above every other name, Jesus, the only One who could ever save. Worthy of every breath we could ever breathe. We live for You, Oh, we live for You.’ This is what worship is, living our life for God in a way that shows that our love for Him is the #1 priority. All else is done in that context. To finish, let me remind us of the chorus of another great song of worship from Shout to the Lord:

‘Shout to the Lord, all the earth let us sing; power and majesty praise to the King. Mountains bow down and the seas will roar at the sound of Your name. I sing for joy at the work of Your hands; forever I’ll love You, forever I’ll stand. Nothing compares to the promise I have in You.’ Let us give our loving, awesome, magnificent, indescribable, redeeming God the worship He deserves.

Article supplied with thanks to Salt 106.5.

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It seemed a strange question at the time. “Chef or ingredient. Which are you?” The more I have pondered it, the more I appreciate its relevance. What’s it getting at?

Behind the question is the probe: “Are you essentially a pawn in someone else’s game – there because in some way you add something to it (a tasty additional ingredient) – or are you in control of the game, deciding what goes in, and what is excluded?”

Chef or Ingredient in Context

Most of us would say that it depends on the setting. Sometimes we are more chef than ingredient, other times more ingredient than shaper of the stew. Apply it to your work context and you can probably give a quick answer. Most people are simply one of the ingredients – part of a much larger team, but hopefully adding value and appreciated for what they bring – or not! After all, we’ve all tasted dishes where we pull a sour face and add, “Oh that’s off. Something’s wrong there.” Or been at places where the “blah” verdict has been given, until a few new appointments suddenly transform the environment into something humming with energy.

The Weight of Leadership

But then so does the chef. The same set of ingredients in one person’s hands can become a feast, while another turns out fare that produces heartburn. If you are an ingredient, it matters who the chef is. So let me ask the question again: Do you prefer to be in charge, or to be a valued player on a team? It’s not a trick question. We are wired differently. Some find it hard not to have the final say, others prefer to contribute constructively without carrying the burden of leadership. Leadership, after all, is about weight – the responsibility of the final call, even when it involves announcing change that others may resist.

Questions for the Ingredient or the Chef

Regardless of whether you are more chef or ingredient, there are key questions to consider. If “ingredient”: Are you contributing to a dish worthy of what you bring? If you’re a fine wine, why be wasted in a stew that doesn’t need your richness? Consider whether your setting allows you to flourish, and if not, what options may be open to you. If “chef”: Are your skills up to the “ingredients” in front of you? Are you working to upskill and draw out the best from those entrusted to you? The best chefs make great dishes even from modest ingredients, and they take responsibility rather than blame.

The Higher Perspective

Of course, none of us are entirely “chef” or “ingredient.” Many things are outside our control. This is why the writer of Psalm 20:7 reminds us: “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.”Ultimately, we can rest in the truth that God is in control. Whether called to be chef or ingredient, we can have confidence that good will come in His hands. As Psalm 46:10 advises: “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Article supplied with thanks to Brian Harris.

About the Author: Brian is a speaker, teacher, leader, writer, author and respected theologian who is founding director of the AVENIR Leadership Institute, fostering leaders who will make a positive impact on the world.

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