John spoke this morning from Nehemiah 4 on rebuilding for God. Nehemiah had undertaken the tremendous endeavour of rebuilding Jerusalem’s walls because of God’s calling to do this, a task which took him out of his comfort zone. When God is in control of our lives, we are not… which can be very uncomfortable for us, but is the best way to live.

Nehemiah’s motives in rebuilding the walls are called into question by Sanballat and Tobiah who ask five questions. We will have to face these questions too when we endeavour to build for God.

1. Purpose

The question was asked ‘What are these feeble Jews trying to achieve?’ We will always need to look at our purpose and whether we are living for God’s purpose or seeking to fit His purpose into our lives, rather than working primarily to His agenda. Nehemiah called on God to work according to His promises, for he knew that he had been called to this task (and being released from his important role as cup-bearer to the king was confirmation of this calling.) Ps 127:1 reminds us that unless the Lord builds the house, we labour in vain. We need to be sure we know why we are doing the things we are doing.

2. Protection

We can rest secure in the fact that God protects His people (see Ps 91:1-2, 7). Our safety comes from dwelling in God’s presence and we can rest secure in the fact that God fights for us and is on our side. When we walk in God’s will, we are offered His continuous protection and can be sure that He will cause all things to work together for good. (Rom 8:28)

3. Power

All work for God will inevitably involve sacrifice; it is only when we place our sacrifice on the altar that God’s fire falls. When we have abdicated our will to God’s will and surrendered our lives to Him (see Rom 12:1-2), we can experience God’s power in our lives, but this involves the painful death of the self, a daily denial of self that leads to Christ living in us.

4. Perception

How accurately have we perceived what God wants us to do? Many of us hope that God’s work will involve minimal effort and will be a short-term task, but He calls us to a marathon, not a sprint. God urges us to count the cost before we start the journey.
‘I’m saying yes to You
And no to my desires
I’ll leave myself behind
And follow You

I’ll walk the narrow road
’cause it leads me to You
I’ll fall but grace
Will pick me up again

I’ve counted up the cost
Oh I’ve counted up the cost
Yes I’ve counted up the cost
And You are worth it.’ (‘The Cost,’ Rend Collective Experiment)

5. Persistence

Nehemiah and the builders had to sift the rubble to find the stones they needed to rebuild the walls. The timber for the gates had already been provided, but now, labour was required to patiently sift through the mixture of rubble and stones. It is very easy to start projects and even to half-finish them, but God wants us to stick at it, re-assessing our work at times and keeping on working. 1 Pet 2:9 reminds us that we are living stones which have been rescued by God. Much of our labour for God appears to be unknown, unnoticed and unappreciated, but we have to continue working selflessly, secure in the fact that God knows, notices and appreciates all we do. We are all labourers together for Christ, building His church with Him and glorifying His name. We need to stir up the gift within us and continue working, even when we are mocked, threatened and challenged as Nehemiah was.

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.