Previous blogs and miscellaneous articles
This page will have all previous blogs on it. It will also have longer pieces that are too long for a blog, and miscellaneous items such as prayers and poems and reviews of books and other blog sites.
Initially, they will appear in a random order, but when they begin to accumulate – probably around the beginning of 2020 – we will begin to categorise them and also include our book titles within the category as well.
I have long considered writing something on gambling, but have wavered because it is quite likely that some of you at least will misunderstand. I have no problem in acknowledging that I do occasionally gamble. I do not do so very often, but when I do I thoroughly enjoy it.
I once read an article in a (very) evangelical magazine, which pronounced categorically that all gambling was wrong. It did not offer any biblical basis for its stance but simply stated that the act of gambling was motivated by wanting to get something for nothing and that this was an unchristian attitude. I did contact the editor and offered to show that the writer of the article was mistaken, but my offer was declined.
I have found that many, probably most Christians do consider gambling to be wrong, but none that I have had conversations with have been able to clearly explain why they hold that position. They have generally pointed out that some people gamble unwisely beyond what they can afford, and that others become addicted to it. This is obviously true. It is true in the same way that some people eat unwisely and become addicted to overeating, or that others use their phones far too much and seriously struggle when they have to stop using them. The fact that some people misuse something is an inadequate basis for saying that any use is wrong.
The magazine article was also based on error, two errors in fact. Firstly the writer claimed to be able to judge the motivation of everyone who gambled – such an obvious fallacy that it is hardly worth countering – and secondly he assumed that it is always wrong to want to get something for nothing, or at least for a very little. My wife and I have a small vegetable plot in our garden. We have planted seeds (which cost very little) in the hope that in due course we will have some free vegetables. Is that wrong, and if not, why not?
Both having a bet and planting seeds involves an element of risk, chance if you like. At times, such as the Irish potato famine, whole seasons of crops have failed nationally, causing ruin and even death. All agriculture is based on the principle of sowing a little to reap a lot with the minimum of required effort. That also appears to be the basis of investment in stocks and shares; something that virtually every major Christian institution gets involved in. If we decide that wanting to get something for nothing, or for a very little, is wrong, we have the freedom to adopt that stance, but surely we should be consistent in the way that we do so.
One argument that I have heard against gambling is that it is a waste of money. That again involves a couple of assumptions. Firstly – and again an obvious fallacy – is that a gambler will inevitably lose money, but there are many, myself included, who often win. It also assumes that either the gambler gets no pleasure from the act or, perhaps more pertinently, that it is wrong to spend money on such pleasurable activities. This is particularly relevant in my own case. I have good Christian friends who think nothing of spending substantial sums of money on tickets for a football or rugby match. They have concluded that it is legitimate to pay for such pleasure and, in practice, I suspect that few Christians (including the very evangelical) will disagree with them. But I have been challenged by some of those friends, for spending less than the price of a rugby ticket for a bet in a horse race, which for me is infinitely more enjoyable than sitting out on a wet and windy day watching a lot of grown men chasing an odd shaped ball around a muddy field.
When pressed to explain why they think what I do to be wrong whereas what they are doing is perfectly acceptable, the response has tended to be ‘well you are gambling’, which of course explains nothing. However, if they are willing to think about the matter, that means no more than that they spend say £40 on sport for pleasure and have no possibility of recovering any of that money, whereas I spend £40 on sport for pleasure and sometimes get it back with a profit.
I do not want to press the point too far. Of course some gambling is wrong and of course some people misuse it and become addicted. However I believe that if the same criteria which is used to validate or invalidate gambling, is applied to numerous other human activities, such as those mentioned of eating or watching rugby or football, then gambling will fare no worse than others.
At the 2002 Edinburgh Book Fair, Antonia Fraser attributes this saying to Marie-Thérèse, the wife of Louis XIV of France. Whilst it has been variously attributed to other French princesses, if it was ever said, it should probably more accurately be translated as “Let them eat brioche”.
‘Who cares?’ I hear you say. ‘Does it matter who said it, and does it really matter whether it was cake or brioche?’ Probably not.
On the other hand, the issue as to whether a Jaffa Cake is a cake or a biscuit has much more significance. Produced at the McVitie’s factory in Stockport, the Jaffa cake production area covers an acre and includes a production line over a mile long. They are big business, and as such, a right definition is crucial because chocolate covered biscuits carry 20% value added tax whilst chocolate covered cakes do not.
The issue was settled in court in 1991 with the Jaffa Cake being defined as a cake in spite of it being the size of a biscuit and being eaten like a biscuit. One of the factors taken into account by the court, was that, in common with other cakes, Jaffa Cakes go hard when stale whereas biscuits go soft. With tens of billions of Jaffa Cakes sold since that definition, the treasury has lost out on millions of pounds of VAT income.
Perhaps more than any previous generation, ours is happy not to place any real significance on accurate definitions. If you want to call it a cake, call it a cake, but if you want to call it a biscuit call it a biscuit.
Sometimes, it simply does not matter; a rose by any other name smells just as sweet. However sometimes it does matter and one of the most difficult tasks we face today is deciding when it does and when it does not.
Perhaps more than any other group in history, the Pharisees tried to define everything; at least as far as the law of God went. Their problem was that they took things too far. For many of us Christians today, we are struggling to find the right balance. We definitely should not copy the Pharisees, but neither should we just take on board the prevalent cultural norms of our society.
So how do we become better at judging when to insist on accurate definition and when to say, ‘who cares – it does not really matter?’. I am going to suggest four ways:
Firstly, allow our thinking to be shaped by the Holy Spirit through what God says in the bible.
Secondly, make sure we don’t ignore our inner voice of conscience. It is not infallible, but it is a helpful guide.
Thirdly, read and research things that you disagree with, not to disprove them, but to understand why others hold the views that they do.
Fourthly, don’t be afraid to disagree and argue. It will need to be done graciously, and it will require effort to ensure we are informed in what we say.
For many of us, it is perhaps too late to solve the situation completely; it can take a lifetime of learning to even begin to judge rightly on the hundreds of issues that face us. However, whatever stage we are at in life, we can all improve a little. Even from this blog you have learned how to distinguish between a cake and a biscuit.
It is difficult to be certain when the Exodus took place, but we can be pretty sure that Egypt was still a major, if not the major power in the middle east when it happened. The pharaohs ruled over vast territories and one of them, Ramases II had an exceptionally long reign, probably sixty-seven years. Some have speculated that he was on the throne when the Israelites entered Canaan under the leadership of Joshua. Whether that was the case or not, he was certainly still an impressive ruler in the early years of the people of Israel. Ramases II was also known by the name of Ozymandias taking the title King of Kings and, in keeping with this claim, he had vast monuments built in his honour.
It is possible to see a fragment of one of these monuments in the British Museum. I say a fragment, it is reckoned to weigh about seven and a quarter tons, even though it is only a small piece of the original work. The poet Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote of this statue:
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Though part of the statue remained, the empire had vanished back into the desert, and Ozymandias vanished into obscurity.
There have always been leaders, whether kings, emperors, tyrants or generals who have laid claim to greatness, and indeed in their lifetimes some may have had some grounds for such a claim, but their dominions have ultimately vanished, not necessarily back into desert, but at their best to be remembered as monuments and in museums.
The crucial thing that we all have to face is where Jesus fits into this scheme of things, for he too is given the name King of Kings and Lord of Lords. One major difference between Jesus and all the great leaders throughout history, is that they were great in their lifetimes and then became obscure in their deaths, whereas Jesus never held any position of power while he lived but became great in his death. The resurrection is the dividing line.
Whether we believe in Ozymandias is of little consequence. Though one of the longest lived and mightiest rulers in the world, all that remains are large pieces of carved stone shared between a museum and the desert. Jesus too has his share of statues and monuments, and if that is all, then who cares? But if he lives, if he has conquered death, then that has got to be pretty important and is surely worth thinking about.
I don’t know about you, but I sometimes go through periods when I find it hard to believe God. I have no problem coping with the theory of faith; I am convinced that God can do anything, but that is different from believing that God will act in reality in my life.
As far as I can tell, there are two problems. Firstly, when I look at myself, it appears obvious that I lack everything that is needed for spiritual life and godliness. Secondly, the devil, who is a liar, constantly whispers, or sometimes shouts, that God’s word is not to be trusted.
My wife and I are re-reading the stories of the patriarchs in Genesis at the moment, where God makes promises that are impossible to be fulfilled. Why does he do that? Why does God promise things that no man alive will ever be able to accomplish? It is surely in order that we learn not to look to ourselves for the strength to carry out his will, nor to listen to the devil, who always seeks to turn us away from what God has said to what he, the devil, is saying.
The nub of the matter is this. Our hopes and aspirations are no more than sand falling through our fingers, unless, and this is a big unless, unless God will keep his word and do what is impossible for us, but possible for him.
One of the lesser known Wesley hymns that was included in the early Salvation Army songbooks, is astonishingly bold in affirming the possibility of the impossible.
All things are possible to him
That can in Jesus’ name believe;
Lord, I no more thy truth blaspheme,
Thy truth I lovingly receive;
I can, I do believe in thee;
All things are possible to me.
The most impossible of all
Is that I e’er from sin should cease;
Yet shall it be; I know it shall;
Jesus, look to thy faithfulness!
If nothing is too hard for thee,
All things are possible to me.
Though earth and Hell the word gainsay,
The word of God can never fail;
The Lamb shall take my sins away,
‘Tis certain, though impossible;
The thing impossible shall be,
All things are possible to me.
When thou the work of faith hast wrought,
I here shall in thine image shine,
Nor sin in deed or word or thought;
Let men exclaim and fiends repine,
They cannot break the firm decree;
All things are possible to me.
Thy mouth, O Lord, hath spoke, hath sworn
That I shall serve thee without fear,
Shall find the pearl which others spurn,
Holy and pure and perfect here;
The servant as his Lord shall be;
All things are possible to me.
All things are possible to God,
To Christ, the power of God in man,
To me, when I am all renewed,
When I in Christ am formed again,
And witness, from all sin set free,
All things are possible to me.
I find myself in inner conflict as to whether I want to, can or dare to sing it, but actually when I do, I find my heart responding again in faith toward God. I am reminded by the writer to the Hebrews, that without faith it is impossible to please God, and that in order to please him we must both believe that he exists and, crucially that he is a rewarder of those who diligently seek him.
So I find myself turning yet again to God who is faithful. I stop looking at my own incompetence and inability, stop listening to the lies of the devil, and look to the faithfulness of Jesus to make possible that which is impossible.
During the summer before I started work in my first job, I discovered that not everyone in a position of authority is as competent as their position requires.
As young fit teenagers looking for a bit of ready cash, my friend Rik and I found out that the local council were looking for some casual labour to clean out a boating pool on the seafront near where we lived. Although the pool had a concrete surround, it had been dug out of an area of grassland and the bottom of it was simply an earthy clay. Over the years, reeds had grown in the pool and they had begun to foul the small propellers on the boats. Quite sensibly, the local council decided to drain the pool and dig up the reeds. Rik, I, and a handful of others were duly taken on for a week’s work and we set to in glorious sunshine with a sea breeze to cool us down. By the end of the week, we had uprooted all the reeds and piled them in heaps around the bottom of the pool to await removal by a council lorry. One more good day’s work would probably have had the job completed.
Then a man from the council came to assess what we had done. He took one look at the situation, and decided that there would be no need to waste money on having us shift the piles onto the side of the pool and then onto a lorry. Instead, he said that if we refilled the pool, all the reeds would float and we could then rake them off to the side. So the pool was refilled, all the reeds sank to the bottom and we all got another week’s work to dig them all out again. The interesting thing, was that all of us ignorant teenagers, and also the job foreman thought the decision to be wrong, but none of us said anything because the man from the council was the one in authority and we assumed that he knew what he was doing.
A university professor by the name of Peters studied the correlation between authority and competence and came up with a formula called the Peter Principle. It was that as a general rule, people are promoted until they reach their level of incompetence. The idea is simple. For instance, a mechanic in a garage is both competent and reliable, the boss needs a new foreman and promotes him to the position. If the good mechanic turns out to be an incompetent foreman, instead of going back to his old job (which he was good at) he stays in the new one (which he is no good at). However, if he proves to be a good foreman, he might then get promoted to works manager. If the good foreman turns out to be an incompetent works manager, instead of going back to his old job (which he was good at) he stays in the new one (which he is no good at). However if he is a good works manager, he might be promoted to area manager etc. And so it goes on till he finally gets promoted to a job which he cannot do and then he stays there. In this way, positions of authority can have a tendency to be filled by people who were good at something else but who are not very good at the job they end up doing.
There are of course many notable exceptions and the principle is far from infallible. However, it is surprising how many times it does actually happen. Raymond Hull developed Professor Peter’s theory in a little book just called ‘The Peter Principle’ and it is well worth reading if you can find an old copy of it.
In local and national government, incompetence may be widely recognised by those outside the bureaucratic system, but rarely acknowledged by those within it. However, we all would do well to look at ourselves and ask whether we genuinely have the ability to match the responsibilities which we carry – whatever level they are at.
Incompetence will be minimised where an environment of honesty and humility prevails. For Christians, the Holy Spirit will always be nudging us to recognise incompetence in ourselves and then subsequently in others. Where robust but gracious challenge is welcomed, the Holy Spirit will press that home and help eliminate the Peter Principle in us and our churches.
I once worked for a man who lived with his mother in a small terraced house in London, where their front garden was just a tiny patch of ground between the house and the pavement. In spite of this, his mother, who was a keen gardener, used to try to make the best use she could of the area available. Her solution was to grass it over but also to plant it fairly intensly with daffodil bulbs. Come the early spring, the patch was a mass of bright and cheerful yellow flowers.
Their next-door neighbour had a similar patch of ground but it usually stayed as bare or slightly weedy earth. On one occasion, when their own garden was in full bloom with a fairly spectacular show of flowers, my friend came home from work to discover that since he had gone out that morning, his neighbour’s garden had been transformed and was also full of daffodils rivalling their own.
Somewhat puzzled by the apparently instant transformation, my friend leant over the dividing wall and gently plucked at one of the flowers. It came straight away from the earth, and he found himself holding a plastic daffodil head on a green covered wire stem. The neighbour had discovered a short cut to apparent beauty that eliminated the wearisome process of having to grow something from scratch.
It is often a temptation to try to imitate a work of God by producing something which, superficially at least, looks the same but which has no more reality than a plastic daffodil. Jesus said that in God’s vineyard, he is the vine, we the branches, and his Father the gardener, and that the Father will cut, prune and tend as necessary in order that the whole vine should be fruitful. From our point of view that can be both a painful and seemingly over-long and tedious process. It can therefore appear to be an attractively easy option to create something that looks like the real thing, by pressing people (or allowing ourselves to be pressed) into an outwardly conforming shape of church structure and individual Christian behaviour.
When God deals with us directly, he always ensures that we are securely rooted in Jesus, and that the fruit in our lives originates in Jesus’ life not our own. When we try to produce fruit by our own efforts (often trying to conform to patterns laid down by others) it may look similar to God’s fruit, but on close examination it will lack the life that can only come from Jesus.
There are plenty of church options around that seem slick, professional and quite pleasing to the ear and eye, but many of them do not stand up to close scrutiny. Whilst initially they may seem very attractive, when you get close, they almost appear to have all come out of one mould. But no two living things are ever identical. Even in one species like daffodils, diversity is rampant because life originates in living roots, not from the outward pressure of a mould. Real things also show the blemishes that occur in growth, often from attacks by assorted pests and insects. Insects rarely go for the plastic version. They at least can tell the difference between the real and the imitation.
I am not really a sunbathing enthusiast, but I do know that if I wanted to be, then I would have to go out of doors and expose my skin to the sun. If I did want a tan, however much I desired one, it would not happen by staying in a darkened room and simply trying hard to get one. I am pretty certain that it would not work either, by praying very hard for the sun to come indoors where I am instead of me going out to where it is.
I do understand that even in a darkened room, whilst the sun sustains me and its warmth permeates my whole environment, just because one aspect of its work reaches into that sort of situation, it does not mean that all other aspects will as well.
I am very grateful to God that wherever I am, even in the darkest spiritual period of my life, his presence and power will sustain me. However, there are some aspects of his work, which will only happen if, by faith, I walk out of that room and consciously and deliberately expose myself to the full blaze of his glory. Paul says in two Corinthians chapter three that it is as we look at the Lord with uncovered faces, the glory coming from the Lord transforms us into his likeness.
Some aspects of God’s work, especially his transforming work in us, happen as we expose ourselves to him, and they will not happen when we hide away, even though we may be trying hard or even praying hard to make it happen. We are encouraged to enter boldly into God’s presence in order to find grace and mercy to help in time of need. The transforming power of God comes from the risen Christ upon his heavenly throne. It is from there that he sends his Spirit to make the work of his Passion effective in the lives of his people on earth. If we shrink away from the exposing light of the Spirit we will not change, just as the sun will not tan us if we hide away from it.
There is only one sun which sustains our world, but the effects of the sun itself, and its light and heat are all different in the ways they function and relate to the various aspects of our needs on earth. There is only one God, but Father, Son and Holy Spirit have clear differences in the way in which they relate to us, God’s people. One of the increasing areas of confusion in the churches is how we are to respond to God who is Trinitarian, clearly one yet also clearly three.
A blog of a few hundred words is hardly the place to try to develop a right understanding of the Trinity for it is a mystery. However, it is perhaps the place to sound an alarm, that a lack of right understanding of the Trinitarian God we worship, may be part of the reason why so many of us are not seeing the growth in godliness that we long for.
We may always benefit from the light and heat of the sun even when we are hidden from it, but we cannot receive the ultra violet rays needed to give us a tan unless we expose ourselves to it. In like manner, God’s providential grace will benefit us even when we are hidden from him, but his transforming grace requires us to actively open ourselves to him in expectant faith.
I don’t know if you have noticed, but one of the puzzling things that has crept into some churches over recent years is the strange habit of welcoming the Holy Spirit into meetings. Now of course, I am as pleased as anyone to know that the Holy Spirit is present with us when we meet together. However, the Bible assures us that he is always present at those times, and even when we are not meeting together. If we are truly part of the body of Christ, then we are the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit both individually and corporately all of the time.
I struggle to get my head round the idea, seemingly implied in this new habit, that when I meet with other Christians, the Holy Spirit somehow leaves us at some point before we get there, and then waits outside until we ask him in. Perhaps I have misunderstood what people mean when they pronounce a welcome to him, but it seems an unusual practice, to welcome someone who has been with us all the time, and who will stay with us when we leave. And if, by some strange (indeed impossible) phenomenon, we were actually separated from the Holy Spirit, then it seems to me that it would be more fitting for him to welcome us back than the other way around.
I can certainly understand people being grateful for the fact that the Holy Spirit is present, and I can appreciate a thankfulness for those times when we may experience that fact in a greater measure than at other times. However, our awareness of his presence is not actually any indication of the reality of his presence (I suspect most of us are unaware of him being with us when we sleep).
I find this practice doubly confusing because it also seems to imply that the Holy Spirit is ‘out there somewhere’ hanging around waiting to be invited in. Jesus taught that when we drink from him, then the Holy Spirit will flow out from us. We are filled with Holy Spirit as a consequence of our union with Jesus (he used the illustration of us as branches attached to him and drawing life from him as the vine). There are times of special manifestations of the Holy Spirit (mentioned both in the Bible and through history) when he is described as ‘coming upon’ or in terms of wind sweeping in, but these are special times. The day by day and week by week work of the Spirit, often described as ‘walking’, originates in and is mediated through Jesus, as we live in union with him.
Perhaps we should be cautious about introducing habits and terminology that do not exist in the bible and which have not been used by Christians throughout history until the last few years. If we do decide to introduce something novel into the way we talk about God, it would be helpful to folk like me to perhaps explain what we mean by it, or maybe even to check out whether we are getting into a habit that is actually a bad one.
I have just been browsing in the latest edition of Plough. It is only published quarterly, which means that I have enough space between issues to forget just how good it is. Each edition therefore tends to have an element of surprise when I re-discover its excellence. Without question, it is the best magazine I know of.
Though I rate it very highly, I sometimes disagree with substantial parts of it, or if not actually disagreeing, simply fail to agree through lack of knowledge and awareness of the subject matter. In addition, much of the content is beyond my experience and outside my general areas of interest.
So what is it that draws me to it as the one magazine that I generally read from cover to cover? Its content is Christian, at least in the main – though perhaps sometimes only vaguely so – and it does not appear to be either evangelical nor charismatic. It covers an extraordinary range of subjects – even in a themed issue. Where else would you find an interview with a Coptic Archbishop, an article on welding and another on cryptocurrency, nestling next to a reflection on being a mercenary and a memorial of Jean Vanier working lovingly with severely disabled people? Reflecting on the reasons why I like this magazine, I find myself coming back to one word. Integrity. As I understand it, integrity means firstly that it has the quality of being honest, and secondarily that it has strong moral principles. There is invariably a total absence of hype, that extravagance of self-promotion which characterises so many publications. Also, there are no adverts. It only continues to exist because those who read it believe it worthwhile supporting, or, more pertinently, because those who publish it believe it worthwhile investing their time and money to do so.
In the recent issues of Plough there is a quote from C.S. Lewis’s school tutor advising him only to say what he meant – and nothing more or less. That finds a strong echo in my own heart – something I long for and endeavour to do, though realising it is something I often fail to achieve. However, Plough does manage to achieve this on a surprisingly consistent basis, and that may be the thing that contributes most to its integrity and to its consequent attraction.
My experience and understanding of Christianity is at variance with much that I read in the magazine, but I cannot help drinking in the complete lack of hypocrisy, which permeates its pages. Whatever else we know about Jesus, surely no one can question His love of honesty and openness, and it is that, rather than what I would consider doctrinal correctness, which I find so stimulating about this publication.
It is published from conviction and not for profit, by the Bruderhof, a group of Christians living and working together in full community. If you want to check it out for yourselves, visit www.plough.com
It is not particularly easy to explain what a dilettante is. The Oxford dictionary includes the definition: A person who cultivates an area of interest, such as the arts, without real commitment or knowledge.
A couple of hundred years ago it was generally applied to gentlemen and ladies of financial means who pursued an interest in something, usually enthusiastically, but without the need or desire to have a commitment to it. Over the years, it has mainly fallen into disuse, but when it is applied to someone, it tends to highlight an apparently enthusiastic involvement, which lacks any real depth.
When Jesus began His ministry of healing, exorcism and teaching, large crowds followed Him wherever He went. Their enthusiasm and interest could not be doubted. They were attracted both by the man and what He said and did, and they took delight (the true root meaning of a dilettante) in all the spectacular and miraculous events that were happening. However, as Jesus unpacked the truth of who He was and what would be required of anyone who decided to stick with Him, many of the crowds melted away.
It seemed that there were two aspects of Jesus’ teaching that made Him a far less attractive proposition to the once eager crowds. The first was His insistence that His hearers could only obtain life by eating and drinking his flesh and blood: superficially, an understandably repellent concept, but one which in reality focussed on union with Him as the only source of spiritual life. The second was His equally insistent demand, that anyone who wanted to be his disciple, must first be prepared to lay down and discard their own life.
A dilettante may get very enthusiastic about all that Jesus has done and continues to do, but they will draw back from any real commitment to truth and discipleship.
Many churches have at least some aspect of their activities focussed on an appeal to basic human nature. Some churches actually gear up a substantial amount of what they do in order to attract folk on that basis. The style of music, family events, messy church, aesthetically pleasing ceremonies or whatever, seemingly put together to appeal to the natural man or woman. If they are successful in drawing people in, and they often are, generally they will end up with dilettantes rather than disciples.
There is little wrong with seeking to be pleasing on a natural level. The problem comes when that is the focus of the appeal. Often, such a church will end up being mono-cultural with like coming together with like, gathering those with common interests. However, if a church is founded on sacrificial union with Jesus Christ in His death and resurrection, it will embrace a range of styles and activities that will reflect the variety of people drawn together; but the drawing will not be based on any one or more of those styles and activities, but on Jesus Himself.
At heart, a dilettante will be a fair weather follower, primarily concerned with what they can receive rather than with what they can give. A disciple however will want to serve their master come what may.
St. Ignatius of Loyola summed up the nature of discipleship when he said:
“Lord, teach me to be generous. Teach me to serve you as you deserve, to give and not to count the cost, to fight and not to heed the wounds, to toil and not to seek for rest, to labour and not to ask for any reward except to know that I am doing your will.”
If we struggle to say an amen to that, perhaps we should consider whether we are mere dilettantes rather than disciples.