Bleary-eyed and with blurry vision from a day spent inputting data into various tables and charts, I am acutely aware of how our lives are made up of numbers. Pupils in a school are identified by a candidate number, a UCI (unique candidate indicator, which is not so unique considering all the other numbers I am dealing with!), and a ULN (unique learner number… refer to previous comment!) before their names feature in importance. GCSE results are measured in numbers (raw marks, scaled marks, UMS) before they are translated into grades (which for the moment remain as letters, but with the new system about to be unleashed on schools will mean more numbers…) Those results are linked to individual papers and controlled assessments, themselves identified by all manner of numbers. Then we have percentages for the league tables: ‘added value’ and ‘progress eight’ are all measurements designed to indicate a pupil’s progress and the progress of the school they have attended. I am drowning in numbers…

These numbers do reveal stories, but you have to dig deep for them. Has the pupil just scraped into the grade boundary or are they lurking at the top of it, almost into a higher grade? Can those numbers ever truly capture the hard work that has gone on beforehand? What about the pupils who feel relegated and useless because their numbers don’t match someone else’s? What does it mean to be ‘above average’ or ‘below average’? Can the mere fact of statistical means and standard deviations ever hope to reflect individual work or worth?

The Bible assures us that God knows us by name (Is 43:1), even numbers the hairs on our head (Matt 10:30) and is the One who knows every thought, word and action (Ps 139:1-5). Far from merely being a statistic to Him, we are loved personally and individually (see Rev 2:17). No tear we shed is wasted and one day He will wipe every tear away. (Rev 7:17) Our value and worth to Him are not dependent on our achievements, nor can they be measured in the way that academic achievement is measured. We matter so much to God that He sent His only Son to die for us. (John 3:16) Such facts quieten our restless, fearful hearts and enable us to see with true perspective.

Spare a thought for all the pupils who will gain exam results tomorrow and for the staff who have laboured hard to teach them, often in difficult circumstances, and for parents who often feel inadequate and fearful as they seek to help their children in a competitive world which can seem terribly hostile. Pray for humility in rejoicing and perspective in sorrow. Most of all, let’s pray that all will understand something of individual worth and value, which will not be recorded anywhere on those results’ slips handed out tomorrow, but which remains engraved on the hands of a Saviour who bled and died for us.

Mark spoke tonight on the word ‘Amen’, a word we use frequently in prayer or to affirm something someone has said. Apart from being an encouragement to preachers (or at least an affirmation that people are listening!), the word is defined as meaning to ‘affirm and confirm a statement’, emphasising what is said. In our Bibles, it is sometimes translated ‘truly’ and in John’s Gospel, the word repeated is used twenty-five times (NIV ‘I tell you the truth’, KJV ‘verily, verily’).

Some examples of this word in the Old Testament can be found in 1 Chron 16:36, Ps 41:12-13 and Ps 72:18-19. Each time, the word affirms truths about God and acts as a seal, saying ‘yes, I agree; let it be so.‘ In the New Testament, the word is found at the end of the Lord’s prayer (Matt 6:9-13), again affirming the truth of the words in this prayer. In 2 Cor 1:20, we read that all the promises of God are ‘Yes’ in Christ and we speak the ‘Amen’, confirming God’s truths and agreeing with God, and thus allowing these promises to be fulfilled in our lives.

‘Amen’ is also a word spoken in heaven (Rev 5:13-14) and is the last word in the Bible (Rev 22:20-21), confirming the message of the whole Bible. We need to confidently affirm all that God says as truth and rest secure in that truth. As Matt Maher, sings ‘And all the people said Amen!’

We also had two birthdays to celebrate:

Garry spoke about penitence in prayer this morning, looking at Psalm 51. Though we are continually striving not to sin, we have to know that when we do sin, God forgives us and cleanses us (1 John 1:9) We live in a fallen world where we are are engaged in an ongoing battle against temptation and need to know that when we fail and do sin, repentance paves the way for us to be restored.

When we are first saved, it is like the floodgates of God’s mercy are opened, rather like water gushing from a dam. Our sensitivity to God is keen and we grow quickly, but at times, progress seems to slow and we may make wrong choices. Sometimes our awareness of what we are doing wrong is not keen (rather like we become used to a smell so that we no longer perceive it after a while) and we need God to make us aware of our sin. False guilt is not specific, but when God highlights sin (as He did through the prophet Nathan with David), He is specific. When He points out areas which need attention and change, we can refuse to listen, rather like the driver who was advised that the only way to cope with the terrible noise his car was making if he could not afford the expensive repair needed was to turn the radio up louder! When God challenges us, we need to respond to Him, being ruthless with ourselves but merciful with others. Penitence leads us to the mercy of God, for God does not make us aware to despair; He makes us aware to repair. Our sins cause a barrier between us and Him (Is 59:2), but He is a God who wants to put things right and who, through Christ’s sacrifice, has done all that is required for us to be made right with Him.

When we are penitent and receive forgiveness, it paves the way to celebration, for we realise that there is no condemnation and so we can celebrate (like the Prodigal Son on his return home.) Some may call this undignified, but Ps 51:8 reminds us that joy and gladness are the natural response to restoration. Penitence paves the way to restoration and celebration.

Isaiah’s prophecy in Isaiah 61 looks ahead to the coming of the Messiah whose purpose is ‘to bind up the brokenhearted,to proclaim freedom for the captivesand release from darkness for the prisoners,to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favourand the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn,and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beautyinstead of ashes, the oil of joyinstead of mourning, and a garment of praiseinstead of a spirit of despair.’ (Is 61:1-3) There are always times when we don’t understand what God is doing and can barely find the words to pray, but He accepts even our broken hallelujahs…

‘I can barely stand right now.
Everything is crashing down,
And I wonder where You are.

I try to find the words to pray.
I don’t always know what to say,
But You’re the one that can hear my heart.

Even though I don’t know what Your plan is,
I know You’re making beauty from these ashes.

I’ve seen joy and I’ve seen pain.
On my knees, I call Your name.
Here’s my broken hallelujah.

With nothing left to hold onto,
I raise these empty hands to You.
Here’s my broken hallelujah.

You know the things that have brought me here.
You know the story of every tear.
‘Cause You’ve been here from the very start.

Even though I don’t know what Your plan is,
I know You’re making beauty from these ashes.

I’ve seen joy and I’ve seen pain.
On my knees, I call Your name.
Here’s my broken hallelujah.

With nothing left to hold onto,
I raise these empty hands to You.
Here’s my broken hallelujah.

When all is taken away, don’t let my heart be changed.
Let me always sing Hallelujah
When I feel afraid, don’t let my hope be erased
Let me always sing Hallelujah.
Let me always sing Hallelujah.

I will always sing
I will always sing
Here’s my broken hallelujah.’ (‘Broken Hallelujah’, The Afters)

This week I have been puzzling over questions whose answers are not as clear-cut as I would like them to be. I feel desensitised in many respects when I watch the news or read what is happening in the world. The horrors reported from Israel, from Iraq, from other countries are told in graphic detail, but my response to them seems almost detached. It’s as if I cannot cope with any more atrocities, any further acts of barbarity, any more slaughter or torture. Instead of being moved and broken by these stories, I feel numb. as if anaesthetised to pain. My eyes register the horror; my ears hear the wails… and yet I feel like I have a heart of stone at times. Scripture urges us to weep with those who weep, to mourn with those who mourn (Rom 12:15). It urges us to remember those who are being mistreated as if we ourselves were suffering. (Heb 13:3) God clearly has little patience with the self-seeking and self-righteous; He urges us to ‘learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed.Take up the cause of the fatherless;plead the case of the widow’ (Is 1:17), to ‘loose the chains of injusticeand untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed freeand break every yoke.Is it not to share your food with the hungryand to provide the poor wanderer with shelter – when you see the naked, to clothe them,and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood‘ (Is 58:6-7), to rend our hearts and not our clothes. (Joel 2:13) The whole Bible rails against injustice and suffering with powerful imagery and fervent passion. My spectator reaction is not right.

Then I learned of the death of Robin Williams, an actor whose talents I have much appreciated over the years, and the tragic nature of his death and his struggles with mental illness and addictions instantly shocked and pierced me. Which led to further questions. How could I hear of the deaths of thousands of Iraqi Christians without weeping and yet be stunned into tears by the tragic death of one man? Why could one death move me when so many left me simply numb?

It is easy to castigate ourselves for the failings in our responses, but worldly sorrow simply leads to regret. I think questions often tell us more than answers ever do (‘Could It Be?’, Michael Card) and it is important to wrestle with the anomalies and shortcomings of our hearts without being overwhelmed by them (God is greater than our hearts, as John reminds us!) For me, part of the answer lies in the individual. Robin Williams is one person. I can empathise with his failings and shortcomings, with his struggles with depressions, with the aching, insidious nature of addiction. I can understand how one person can live with both joy and agony at the same time, how difficult it is to hear the voice of God above all the other voices shouting out to us or whispering snide suggestions to our hearts. I can weep with such a person and with their families because I understand the relentless, ongoing nature of mental struggles.

When we are faced with mass torture, rape and slaughter, when tragedies such as the Holocaust are taught in history classes, the sheer scale of the suffering overwhelms us. The only way we cope is to become detached from it. For us to truly be moved, we have to have some individual we can relate to rather than ‘humanity’. ‘Humanity’ is too impersonal for us. As we are individual, so we have to enter into suffering with individuals. Empathy cannot be impersonal.

Helplessness also freezes our responses. We feel powerless, useless, unable to do anything that can make the situation any better. We wonder if our signature on a petition (such as the one here) really will make any difference, or even if our prayers can change our personal situations, let alone world situations. Helplessness paralyses, which is why despair is so numbing.

God constantly affirms the value of the individual and the value of the individual’s response. Our individual prayers and individual actions are required if we are to see change in the world. As we wrestle with God over the state of our own concrete hearts, as we beg Him to soften our hearts and help us to see the world with His eyes, as we long to be like Jeremiah, a prophet whose eyes overflowed with tears (Jer 9:18, 13:17, 14:17, Lam 1:16), as we pray ‘Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven’ (Matt 6:10), we hold on to the fact that the individual matters and that God knows each individual and cares for them. We may well have no answers. That doesn’t mean God doesn’t, nor does it mean He is not actively working in situations that seem, to our natural eyes, desolate and hopeless. God is sovereign and in control, even when we so clearly are not.

Last night’s sermon continued the series on ‘Everyday Church’, this time looking at the topic of ‘everyday worship’. By studying Psalm 34, we learned more about whole-life worship, as defined by Rom 12:1, yielding everything we have and are to God: ‘Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.’

Everyday worship: not defined by circumstances

Ps 34 urges us to bless and extol God at all times and is so positive we might be forgiven for thinking it was written when David was living in favourable times. The heading makes clear that this was not so; the psalm was written by David ‘when he pretended to be insane before Abimelech, who drove him away, and he left.’  The historical background to the psalm is found in 1 Samuel 21 and shows us David fleeing from King Saul, who was determined to kill him, and forced to hid in enemy territory, living like a fugitive, living amongst foreign kings who did not trust him, resorting to feigning insanity as the only tactic he can think of which will preserve his life. In those difficult, unfavourable circumstances, he makes a determined choice to rejoice and to boast in God, rather than wallowing in misery and moaning at the difficulties he is facing. Outward circumstances do not have to determine our spiritual response: as Rend Collective say in their song ‘Joy’: ‘pain will not define us; joy will re-ignite us.’  When we are faced with conflicting emotions, we have to decide who and what to believe. When circumstances tell us one thing and God tells us something which is directly contrary to what the circumstances are telling us, we have a choice: believe the visible or trust in God. David chooses to trust in God, focussing on God’s ability to deliver, refusing to be defined by circumstances, but only being defined by God.

Everyday worship: dependent on God

Everyday worship is dependent on who God is. Worship is rooted in God’s character. The reason we don’t have to be defined by circumstances is because God is completely independent of the circumstances of our lives. He is above and beyond the circumstances which may seem to shape us or hem us in. He is a God who can deliver out of adversity. (Ps 34:7) He is good and full of blessing. (Ps 34:8) David reflects that ‘the lions may grow weak and hungry, but those who fear the Lord lack no good thing.’ (Ps 34:10) God is ever-vigilant and ever-aware: ‘The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and His ears are attentive to their cry.’ (Ps 34:15) He is able to hear when the righteous cry out and He doesn’t just hear: He delivers us. (Ps 34:17)

This principle of focussing on God rather than on circumstances was ever present in David’s life. When the Amalekites, enemies of God, raided the Negev and Ziklag and took captive the women and everyone else in Ziklag, both young and old (1 Sam 30:2), David and his army knew sorrow and despair. David faced opposition not only from the Amalekites but from his own men who talked of stoning him, but his strategy was to encourage himself in God and thereby find strength. (1 Sam 30:7) Ultimately, worship is a choice we make. Matt Redman reminds us ‘And when the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”’ (‘Blessed Be Your Name’, Matt Redman) Kutless remind us ‘Through the best, through the worst, Jesus, we choose: we will worship You.’ (‘We Will Worship’, Kutless) Worship cannot be left to those days when we feel like worshipping, when things are going well for us and God seems eminently real and close to us. Everyday worship happens every day simply because we make it happen through an act of our wills. (see Ps 27:8, Ps 57:8, Ps 91:2)

Everyday worship: done with others

Ps 34 also teaches us  the importance of corporate worship as part of our everyday worship. Whilst faith is personal and individual, David reminds us ‘Glorify the Lord with me; let us exalt His name together!’ (Ps 34:3) Eugene Peterson says ‘The whole life, the complete life, cannot be lived with haughty independence. Our goal cannot be to not need anyone.’ (‘Run With The Horses’, P 164) Much of the psalm is written to other people and reminds them of the benefits of praising God (see Ps 34:7, 9, 10, 17, 22) As we come together in worship, our whole focus is turned to God and we are able to understand more of the bigger picture; as we pause from the busyness of everyday life to ‘be still and know that I am God’ (Ps 46:10), as we deliberately and consciously take our eyes off ourselves and look to God, we put ourselves in a place where we invite God to come and search us, to speak to us, to reveal more of Himself to us.