Author: Sodwana Bay

At a time when Christians all over the world are openly and unapologetically making it clear that they accept Jesus as their saviour, we’re also reminded of how one of Jesus’ followers denied him just before his death. During yesterday’s Palm Sunday Masses and church services, congregations would have been retold the story of the Passion, which includes Jesus foretelling that Peter would deny him three times before the rooster crowed (Luke 22:36). For Christians who are committed to their faith and actively taking part in Holy Week, at this moment, the thought of denying Christ would likely result in a reaction very similar to Peter’s initial response to Jesus – a firm disbelief that they would ever do it (Matthew 26:35). But the reality is, even if we feel we have a strong faith, there can be times when we indirectly deny Jesus. Last week, I was in a bar and the topic of Christianity came up and I was asked if I was a Christian. I answered yes without hesitation. There’s a high probability that we’ll respond in the same way when questions about our faith are asked this directly. But denying Christ can be a lot more complex than Peter’s example, and the circumstances of the denial can occur in a much more veiled way than mine. Not talking about your faith. We talk about the things we love, that excite us and that mean a lot to us – our faith should be no different. Jesus told his disciples, “Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven,” (Matthew 10:32-33). Just because we might have never vocally renounced our beliefs, doesn’t mean that we’ve never denied Jesus. Not speaking out can be just as much a form of denial. Not defending or believing elements of your faith because you’re afraid of people’s reactions. When we’re put in a position where we have to defend certain controversial elements of our faith, a refusal to do so can be a form of indirect denial. Peter denied Jesus because he was afraid to be associated with him at a time when Jesus was in danger and close to death. He was afraid of what people might have said about him or done to him if he admitted that he was one of Jesus’ disciples. Just like Peter, we can also avoid associating ourselves with particular aspects of our faith in situations where we’re faced with unfavourable consequences. Do you really believe in the Holy Spirit? Do you really believe in the virgin birth? It’s a lot easier to refute particular elements but doing so leads us to deny Christ. Denying Christ through our acts. Our lives should reflect the impact Jesus has had on them. This doesn’t mean that everything is perfect or that we need to be, but it does mean that our actions should imitate his. Essentially, we need to walk the walk as well as talk the talk. “They claim to know God, but by their actions they deny him. They are detestable, disobedient and unfit for doing anything good,” (Titus 1:16). Do your actions match up with Jesus’ teaching? Do you love your neighbour? If our outward behaviour is the complete polar opposite to how Jesus lived and how he taught his followers to live, then we’re denying him through our behaviour. Our faith can recover from the instances in which we fail to acknowledge Christ, just as Peter’s did. But we need to identify what constitutes indirect denial if we have any hope of avoiding it in future. Originally posted 2016-03-21 16:44:48.

I know a girl who aspired to become a classical pianist. She had natural talent. She spent hours in practice. Then one night a man broke into her house and attacked her with a knife, badly disfiguring her hands. Today her piano sits silent. I know a man who had a promising career in publishing. He had a gift for words. He was rising through the ranks. Then a religious cult persuaded him to quit his job to preach in the streets because the world would soon end. The world didn’t end. And the publishing world never opened to him again. I know men and women who dream of marrying but remain single. A friend of mine dreamed of her brother’s recovery from cancer, but that dream was laid to rest last August. To dream is to be human, but to be human in this world is to experience a dream broken. And as the years stretch on with our dreams unfulfilled, it can feel like we’re lost in the wilderness. Broken Dreams in the Wilderness During this season of Lent we remember Jesus’ 40 days in the desert – itself a re-enactment of the Jews’ 40 years in the wilderness (Matthew 4:1-7; Deuteronomy 8:1-9). Both experiences hold a profound lesson about recovering from broken dreams with God. To the Jews the wilderness was a place of trial – a wasteland of confusion where one walked in circles, a desert of frustration where one’s dream was denied. After their momentous liberation from Egyptian slavery and their divine encounter on Mount Sinai, the Jews had set out for a Promised Land of plenty. But what started as adventure soon became adversity, with an 11-day trek becoming 40 years of wandering (Exodus 12:31-20:21; Numbers 10-36). The Jews felt vulnerable in the wilderness. It was a place of dry stones and fruitless ground, blazing sun and weariness. It was a place of wild animals, circling vultures and shadowy forces that whispered in the winds. It was a place of seeking and searching, ever on the move and never content. The wilderness was a place of restlessness. The Jews felt tempted in the wilderness – tempted to renounce their God, or at least question his goodness; tempted to scuttle back to the world that enslaved them. When Jesus the Jew had his own wilderness experience he too heard the Tempter’s voice – to turn the stones around him into tasty bread, misusing his power to fulfil hunger; to leap from the temple and be caught by angels, proving his ‘specialness’ to others, and to bow to the Devil and gain worldly power, avoiding the pain of his future. But the Wilderness is a Place of New Beginnings The wilderness feels like a place of desertion. Our souls are dry, there’s sand in our eyes and we feel vulnerable, tempted and restless. But as the Jews reflected on their wilderness wanderings they saw more in the experience than suffering: As much as the wilderness was a place of vulnerability, it was also a place of provision – with manna and quail and clothes that didn’t wear out coming from God’s hand for their need (Deuteronomy 8:3-4). As much as it was a place of temptation, it was also a place of testing – God testing their hearts to reveal their devotion and teaching their hearts to trust him (Deuteronomy 8:2). And while they felt restless and insecure in the desert place, they end up becoming someone new – God revealing himself as a ‘father’ to them there for the very first time, and describing them as his ‘children’ (Deuteronomy 1:31; 8:5). For as much as the wilderness is a place of trial, it is also a place of transition (Deuteronomy 8:7-9) – where slavery becomes freedom and immaturity becomes wisdom, where our proud demands are humbled and our insecure selves become children of God. In the wilderness we become people we could never have become, and move into the next phase of our lives. After 40 years in the wilderness, the Jews entered their Promised Land. After 40 days in the wilderness, Jesus launched his world-changing mission. An Easter Reflection So, what if this wilderness season of ours – with its silent pianos and lost careers, with its sadness, singleness and loneliness; with its crushing diagnoses and hospital wards and its doubts and tears and brokenness – was leading us to become someone we couldn’t become without its trials and testings? What if God was using it to test our faithfulness to him, and through it affirm us as his ‘child’? What if it was the transition point to a new Promised Land, a new phase of life, a new mission? God has a habit of making the wilderness a place of new beginnings. Originally posted 2016-03-17 09:56:40.

Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, a virgin will be with child and bear a son, and she will call His name Immanuel. Isaiah 7:14 When Mary and Joseph were engaged to be wed, something happened that would change their lives completely. Of course, what we often forget is that the impact that Jesus’s arrival would bring had the potential to actually be either completely positive or destructive for the parents-to-be. I can only imagine Mary being told, “I’m going to give you the son of God, and He’s going to be ‘Immanuel’ or a promise to the whole world that God is with us,” and then Mary probably thinking, “Well, that’s great for the world, but what’s going to happen to me?” During this time, premarital pregnancy was not only embarrassing but could also mean the end of a mother and her child’s life. On top of that, all she had to go on was that she was pregnant because the Holy Spirit gave her a child. So aside from being labeled immoral, people could most likely call her crazy. And imagine what Joseph must have been going through as well. His fiancee was pregnant with a child that was not his and the choice to have her stoned or have his name stained forever was in his hands. In all of this, one can only imagine what weight and magnitude the promise of Jesus being “Immanuel” must have been to them. God was not only with the whole world. He was also with Joseph and Mary, and they held on to that every step of the way — when Mary got pregnant, when they had to travel miles on her due date and when they ran out of rooms when she was giving birth. Often, we hear God speak to us that He is Emmanuel, that He is “God with us,” but what does that do to us? Does it just become another name to add to the many sets of names that Jesus is given? Or does it assure us of the character of God, thus giving us the faith to hope and trust that in every situation, God is indeed with us? Life can get a little challenging at times, and the world, our circumstance or even our own minds will tell us that God is nowhere near us, but God made it clear that Jesus is our “Emmanuel.” Just before He was taken to heaven, Jesus gave us the promise that “I will be with you until the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:20), solidifying the assurance we have that He is indeed Emmanuel. Originally posted 2016-03-17 09:23:35.