My adopted family

It is sad to be back in the situation I found myself in as recently as summer 2010, when this blog began - saying farewell to a church I have been serving as pastor. Once again there is the impression that the arrangement wasn't working out; once again the dismal feeling that nothing would change unless I made the first move. Last time the move was to temporary unemployment, this time early retirement.

Not that I have any wish to retire. It is simply an acknowledgement that pastorates are hard to come by and I am older than the age normally thought desirable. When I first heard God calling me to the ministry, though, I understood it to be for life. It was quite dramatic. I was in France for the third year of my degree course at Uni. You had the choice of studying at a university overseas supported by a grant, or taking a post as an English assistant at a school and being paid. It was a no-brainer: most of us went as English assistants. A staff member at the school where I worked the most hours was a practising Catholic. He invited me over for a meal and we must have talked about religion. I can't remember any of that conversation. All I can recall was him suddenly asking, "Why don't you become a pastor in your church?" Suddenly my eyes were opened to the lifelong challenge and interest it would prove to be! I have never looked back from that day to this. How can I now just lay it aside at 60?

Yet the depressing experience of having to leave a pastorate that has lost its point has come round once more. So again the last Sunday morning service comes round, with the goodbyes and the anxious enquiry, "Where will you go?" Well, first of all, to stay with my adopted family for a few days. That is my instinctive response when life changes happen. They will welcome me and give me the space I need to adjust and move on.

How come I have an adopted family? I have no living relatives left of any closeness. A child of my parents' advancing years, I was bereaved of my father in 1983 and my mother in 1997. All other kin have died out. Perhaps it is natural for a single man to seek out a household of kind folk who see him as part of the family. A farming couple in Oxfordshire, where I spent the longest and happiest days of my ministry, willingly fulfil that role. Theirs is a home from home for me, and a base from which to visit the numerous friends I still have in that area.

The adoption has never been formalised. No papers have been signed and it is even hard to know which of us has adopted the other. But "adoption" is a word we are all happy to use for the arrangement. Indeed, even the next generation of the family is supportive too, a state of affairs which I find deeply touching and a real blessing.

Adoption is a word with clear resonance in connection with the Christian's relationship to God's Son Jesus Christ. Galatians 4 compares children who have privileges in a Roman household with slaves who have no standing there. "God sent forth his Son ... to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, 'Abba! Father!' So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God" (Galatians 4:4-6 ESV).

To be able to claim the position of son or daughter with a heavenly Father who would otherwise be your implacable judge is a rare privilege. I glorify God that it is possible through the work of Jesus Christ on the cross. I also thank Him that being in a sense adopted into a human family is a constant reminder of what He has done for me. It gives me greater confidence and poise as I face the next uncertain chapter of my life.

A little knowledge ...

Those on the recent Spanish Experience trip with the Spanish Gospel Mission who brushed up on their knowledge of the local language made a wise choice. We travelled to the heartland of Spain, the high plateau in the centre of that large European country. Everyone assumes that Spanish people are so used to welcoming British tourists that they have all learned to speak English. True enough, many in the popular tourist destinations may well do so, but this is not the case in places off the beaten track.

As it turned out, I am not sure that any of the church pastors in the small group of churches we were visiting had fluent English. If you did not speak their language, you could not communicate with them – not directly, at any rate. To speak Spanish is therefore a huge advantage.

However, there is a snag. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. You may well learn how to talk to the Spanish, but that means they are going to talk back to you. Now Spanish is spoken very fast - and it is not the easiest language for a foreigner to follow! You have made your best effort to communicate only to be faced with a torrent of words that you have no chance of piecing together. You have no choice but to ask the speaker to repeat what he or she has just said. There is no guarantee even then that it will make sense the second time round.

There are places in the Bible, too, where a little knowledge backfires. In Acts 19 we read of Jewish magicians who tried to use the name of Jesus in order to exorcise demons. They had picked up that the name of Jesus was powerful, yet when they used it they found that they had bitten off more than they could chew. They were taught a very sharp and salutary lesson. I believe they are not alone. Many of the secret societies in this country who seek to play at, or play with, religion fail to understand the forces that they are messing around with as they do so.

Here is the story of the Jewish exorcists:

And God was doing extraordinary miracles by the hands of Paul, so that even handkerchiefs or aprons that had touched his skin were carried away to the sick, and their diseases left them and the evil spirits came out of them. Then some of the itinerant Jewish exorcists undertook to invoke the name of the Lord Jesus over those who had evil spirits, saying, "I adjure you by the Jesus whom Paul proclaims." Seven sons of a Jewish high priest named Sceva were doing this.

But the evil spirit answered them, "Jesus I know, and Paul I recognize, but who are you?" And the man in whom was the evil spirit leaped on them, mastered all of them and overpowered them, so that they fled out of that house naked and wounded. (ESV)

How do we counter the problem of having that little knowledge which is a dangerous thing? Well, obviously, to learn the basics well, but also to keep on learning. We need to make it our business to reach the point where we can move confidently yet humbly in the experiences of faith. To help us, we need to live, move and breathe the company of those who have been forged in the fires of experience and now walk closely with God. We do not idolise them, but we take note of what they say. They may be able to help us when we get our fingers burned in the religious contacts that we make. It is a shame to see anybody suffering bad experiences in a church for lack of knowledge of how to do the right thing. We need to be well practised in our skills and look for that day when everything will be transparent. On that day we shall lack no knowledge. All shall be clear to us. Best of all, everything about us will be clear to God.

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:12