God Speaks

Listening, Connecting, Relating

David Smith, Richard Alldritt

• Publisher: IVP
• Year: 2013
• Print ISBN:
  9781844748419
• eBook ISBN:
  9781844749102
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Christianity

David Smith surveys the modern missionary movement, examines critical issues concerning the gospel and culture, reflects on mission in the context of violence and suffering, and explores the 'translation' of the gospel for today's globalized world.In his letter to the Romans, Paul makes striking use of the phrase 'the kindness of God' (11: 22). The apostle to the Gentiles warns non-Jewish believers in the imperial city of Rome to beware of arrogance, counselling them to 'be afraid' that the kind of spiritual pride which led to the downfall of biblical Israel will also be their undoing. In the deeply troubled times in which we live, this text speaks powerfully to Christians throughout the world, summoning a global church to prioritize what really matters and to discover its unity in the service of the Christ whose life and death revealed in human form precisely the 'kindness of God'. Taking his starting point from Lesslie Newbigin's analysis of the contemporary historical and cultural context, David Smith explores issues in, and challenges to, the practice of Christian mission and witness today. He surveys the modern movement, starting with the World Missionary Conference in Edinburgh in 1910; examines critical issues concerning the gospel and culture; reflects on mission in the context of violence and suffering; and explores the 'translation' of the gospel for a globalized world. He also examines how Scripture was used to justify the political and economic expansion of European power at the dawn of the modern world, and argues that mission today demands both a new hermeneutic and a revised theology of mission, within which Paul's letter to the Romans will play a significant role.

1. Fumbling around in the dark

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.

Genesis 1:1

Imagine a room. You have just woken up, and you can’t remember anything before about ten seconds ago. The room has no windows. The door is locked from the outside. There are no books. Just some sparse furniture, a few necessities. And you.

Pretty soon the cogs are going to start whirring. Why am I here? How did I get here? Who am I? How should I live in this room?

First up you accidentally ‘invent’ science. You fall out of bed and discover gravity. You hit your knee on the table and you discover pain receptors. You fix up your bowl of Fruit and Fibre and discover the constitutional benefits of bran. But what you don’t discover are the answers to those big questions. Explaining the physical laws that govern the room is one thing; solving the why-are-we-here type questions is quite another.

So next you invent philosophy and begin to speculate. Is this room all there is? If so, where did it come from? If not, what is outside? At this point you invent tea – this philosophy stuff is really beginning to hurt your head.

Looking for the light switch

Every culture throughout the ages has tried to find the answers to the big questions of life. That’s why there are so many different philosophies, religions and worldviews out there. There’s atheism and agnosticism, modernism and post­modernism, materialism and live-for-the-weekend-ism. And so on. They might all sound highbrow and intellectual (well, some anyway), but don’t be fooled by the long words. They’re just our attempts at making sense of life, and the world we live in.

And that’s the problem.

A philosophy is the product of someone hazarding a guess at what life is all about. Some place their confidence in science as the means of finding the answers; others rely on logic and reason. Either way, many people assume they are capable of figuring out life on their own. But can that be right? Are we really as competent at finding truth as we’d like to think we are? Let’s think about that for a moment.

Human beings are limited.

We are limited by time. We have a beginning. Rich was born on 17 March 1979; Ash on 25 April 1979. We weren’t there when Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon. We didn’t witness the Battle of Trafalgar. We certainly didn’t experience the beginning of the universe. History happened before us, and (most likely) will happen after us too.

We are limited by geography. When Ash visits his parents in Canada, he finds it difficult to keep up with the football results. When Rich is out windsurfing, his sole focus of attention is which way the wind is blowing. Stuff happens that we’re not aware of. Even with the advent of the internet, we still can’t see everything that takes place in the world. It’s hard enough remembering all that we did this morning.

We are limited by wisdom and knowledge. We like to think of ourselves as reasonably intelligent guys, but we’re a million miles away from mastering all of the different disciplines out there. We know a bit about business and finance – that’s what we used to do for a living. Rich knows about Scottish mountains, and Ash can make fresh pasta, but ask us about Shakespeare or the properties of a quasar, and we’re seriously out of our depth. We don’t know everything there is to know within the created order, let alone anything that lies beyond it.

We are limited in power. When was the last time you tried to stay awake for twenty-four hours without falling asleep? When was the last time you got through the winter without getting a cold? We get tired; we get sick. And no matter how much moisturizer we apply, we can’t halt the ageing process. Scientists still haven’t found a cure for cancer, despite the billions they’ve spent trying. We certainly can’t prevent our own deaths. We’re not really in charge of our own lives. We don’t have as much control as we’d like to think.

Human beings are limited. Granted, the human race has achieved some extraordinary things, in science, medicine, technology and exploration. The list goes on. We do get a lot of stuff right – after all, we’ve been made in God’s image, and human beings are intelligent. But when it comes to the big questions of origin, meaning and purpose, we’re just guessing. We’re finite. We live at a particular moment in history, in a specific corner of the cosmos, with limited powers and abilities, for a very tiny period of time. We can’t possibly hope to answer the big questions.

Rich’s favourite books are from the Sharpe series by Bernard Cornwell. Imagine Rich on his holidays, picking up the latest best-seller to find out about another of Sharpe’s escapades in the Peninsular War. Finally, he gets a moment’s peace – the kids have gone to bed. He settles down on the terrace, glass of wine in hand. When will Sergeant Harper fire his seven-barrelled gun? Which city will be under siege? Which senior gentry officer will Sharpe offend this time? Let the relaxing begin! But then, to his horror, the first page of the book is blank. And so is the second page. And the third. And so on and so on. It looks like the printers have bound a blank copy. Except, that is, for one single sentence, sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of the book.

What are the chances of Rich figuring out the plot? He just doesn’t have sufficient information to answer any of his questions. He’s just guessing. And that’s exactly the position we’re in when it comes to figuring out life. For all that we get right, there are pages and pages beyond our reach. Inside the room we’re fumbling around in the dark. Within the room there are no answers.

Unless...

A time before time

What if there was somebody out there who didn’t suffer from any of our limitations?

The first chapter in the Bible teaches that there is such a person. The opening words of the whole story transport us to a time before time: ‘In the beginning, God...’

God isn’t just a bit older than us, with a few extra grey hairs, a few more wrinkles. He hasn’t just been around the block a bit, seen more of the world than we have. He was there before the world was created. He is the alpha and the omega, the first and the last. He is eternal. Nothing happened before him.

And God didn’t hang around just enjoying his pre-existence. He had a plan: ‘In the beginning, God created...’

He spoke a word, and the universe sprang into existence, stars were formed, planets began to orbit, the water cycle began to turn, forests shot up, animals began to roam. And then, to cap it all off, human beings were formed from dust. That means that everything that exists falls into two categories: the Creator and the creation. You could travel to the far reaches of the universe, plumb the deepest depths of the ocean, catalogue every insect in the Amazon, and you’d never find anything that God didn’t make. There’s nothing in the universe that doesn’t have ‘Made by God’ stamped on the bottom. He made everything.

What’s more, being the Creator means he’s in charge of his creation. He owns it, and everything belongs to him (Isaiah 66:1; Revelation 4:11). He spoke, and it came into being. He said, ‘Let there be light’ – and ‘there was light’ (Genesis 1:3). He said, ‘Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens’ – and ‘it was so’ (Genesis 1:14–15). As the Bible story unfolds, the extent of God’s rule is revealed by his control of history. Nothing happens without his ordaining. Kings and armies march to his drumbeat (Isaiah 10:5; Daniel 2:21). The death of his Son was no accident, but planned before time began (Acts 2:23). Even the date of the end of the world has been fixed in God’s calendar (Acts 17:31). And it’s not just the big events of history that demonstrate his control; it’s the little things too. The thoughts of our hearts are known to him (Psalm 139:2–4). He forms each and every embryo, and appoints the days of its life (Psalm 139:13–16). It is impossible to escape his presence (Psalm 139:7–12). He is Lord over everything.

The point is that God is not like us. All the limitations that we suffer from are not true of him. He is all-powerful. All-knowing. Everywhere. All the time. Infinitely wise. He understands the storyline of history because he wrote it. Every second unfolds according to his plan. There is no limit to his knowledge.

He alone has the answers.

Staring into the abyss

A couple of months ago I (Ash) visited some friends in York. Their daughter had started asking her parents those simple-yet-profound questions that sooner or later every five-year-old begins to ask. Why are we here? What is the point of everything? Tragically, her atheist parents had no answers. It made me weep. That kind of existence drives you to despair.

Playing children’s games in the dark might be fun for a while, but living that way is miserable. Without answers, there is no meaning or purpose, no right or wrong, no hope or goal. Life simply doesn’t make sense. We’re desperate. When you’re in a deep-water submarine down in the Mariana Trench at 35,000 feet below sea level, it’s pitch black. You can’t see anything out of the window. But that’s like being in bright sunshine compared to living life without the answers.

If we’re too limited to come up with answers, then we need the answers to be brought to us. We need God to speak. We need him to unlock the door, step into the room and turn on the lights.

Fig. 2

2. No such thing as a neutral

For the wrath [anger] of God is revealed from heaven against all...[people], who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth.

Romans 1:18

Imagine your house is on fire. And we are passing by. Your smoke alarm isn’t working, and you and your family are sound asleep. We try shouting, but you don’t hear. We call the fire brigade, but they’ll be another fifteen minutes. In desperation, we throw stones at your window, and finally you wake up. The window opens. ‘YOUR HOUSE IS ON FIRE!’ we yell.

Now you have a choice.

The sensible thing to do is get out of the house as fast as possible. But it’s cold outside, and your bed is nice and warm and it’s night-time. Your pyjamas are embarrassing. You could jump out of your window. Or go back to the comfort of your bed. You don’t really want the hassle of dealing with this, not tonight anyway.

What if you had a hard-wired inclination to believe that we were liars? What if you had an inbuilt bias to doubt our goodness? You’d think we were out to get you. You’d be inclined to ignore us, maybe even call the police to come and get rid of us.

All of us are, by nature, like the person who goes back to bed.

Tell me lies...

In this book we’re thinking about how we can know God and hear his voice. We’re starting off by looking at the problems that need to be addressed if we are going to hear God speak. In ‘Fumbling around in the dark’ we thought about the first major obstacle: our limited access to truth. In this chapter we will look at the second major obstacle: our preference for untruth.

When we were teenagers, the Britpop era was at its peak. Bands like Oasis, Blur and Pulp sang songs about freedom, liberty and choice. Their songs shaped our culture. Those lyrics resonated in our hearts, and echoed a sentiment to which we all related. We were free. Free to decide. Free to choose. Free from bias. Free from prejudice. Free from influence. We rejected the influence of other people, events or inclinations. We thought of ourselves as blank canvasses. Each one of us an island, an independent state. We were able to face the world, to work it out for ourselves. We were totally neutral.

Then we read the book of Romans, and the apostle Paul blew all our misconceptions out of the water. It wasn’t comfortable reading – the apostle doesn’t exactly pull his punches – but we needed to hear it:

For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all...[people], who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse. For although they knew God, they did not honour him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened.

(Romans 1:18–21, emphasis ours)

Ouch!

Paul’s subject is knowing God. He says that God has revealed himself in creation. God has made himself known in the things he has made. ‘His eternal power and divine nature’ are reflected in the work of his hands. Clearly, Paul is not saying that God is fully revealed in creation. We can’t know everything about God by sitting on the beach in Ibiza. We can’t work out how to be saved by climbing a mountain. Nevertheless, God does reveal some stuff about himself in creation.

Take a look, though, at what Paul says we do with that knowledge. Do we treasure it? Do we marvel at it? Do we put it on the mantelpiece and cherish it? Paul’s point is pretty obvious. We all reject it. Indeed, we hate it. We see the truth, we know it, but we suppress it. We bury it in a hole, build a patio over the top, sit back in the chair, open a beer and pretend it isn’t there.

What’s more, Paul goes on to say that this is not a conscious decision. It’s not that we’ve weighed the evidence and decided to reject the truth. The point is that we cannot do anything but reject it. Our minds are broken. At the very core of our being we’re hard-wired to suppress the truth. As Paul puts it in Romans 1:28, we have a ‘debased mind to do what ought not to be done’.

So when it comes to the big questions of life, we don’t want honest answers. We prefer lies. If I’m asking, ‘Why am I here?’, I’m going to prefer an answer that paints God out of the picture. If I’m asking, ‘How did I get here?’, I’m going to prefer an answer that paints God out of the picture. If I’m asking, ‘Who am I?’, I’m going to prefer an answer that paints God out of the picture. You get the idea. We’d rather stay in the dark than have the light switched on. Even when we’re handed the truth on a plate, we cast it aside. We really don’t want it. We cannot trust ourselves to answer questions of meaning and purpose. We can’t rely on our own judgment. Every bit of us – mind, body, soul – is depraved.

That doesn’t mean that we are as bad as we could be. By God’s grace, we can still do good. It just means that there is nothing about us that isn’t tainted by sin – we’ll do anything to promote ourselves and relegate God. We are incapable of neutrality. We don’t want to listen to God. We prefer the sound of our own voice.

If there was a real fire, nobody would stay in bed. The evidence would be too strong. There would be too much at stake. But when it comes to the big ques­tions, all of us go back to bed, spiritually speaking. We all have an inbuilt bias to reject the truth about God, and to replace it with lies. Like a corrupt judge, we deliberately misread the evidence. We prefer to turn a blind eye to anything that doesn’t quite fit with how we want the world to be. We have an interest in the answers turning out a certain way – our way.

So there’s no such thing as a neutral.

You either love it or you hate it

Ash loves it; Rich hates it. The makers of Marmite (or Vegemite if you watch Neighbours) have banned fence-sitting. They’d have us believe that their sticky brown paste is the ultimate issue of bias. You either love it or you hate it. But we’ve argued in this chapter for something much more important. An issue that cuts to the core of who we are. Something that exposes our hearts.

Where God is concerned, there is no such thing as a neutral.

All of us tell a story about where we are from and where the world is going. We look at this world and try to answer the questions about what is wrong, how to fix it and how we fit into the story. But the problem is that the story we tell has no place for God. We suppress the truth and instead make up our own version. We persuade ourselves that we’ve got it all sorted.

Here are some examples...

We like to think that God doesn’t exist, so we make TV shows that paint a godless picture of human existence. Science programmes that have no room for God. History programmes that relegate Jesus to the margins. We talk up human progress. But we never talk about Go...

Table of contents

• Dedication
• Contents
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• 1. Fumbling around in the dark
• 2. No such thing as a neutral
• 3. Bridging the gap
• 4. You can’t have one without the other
• 5. God is history
• 6. Cross-examining the witnesses
• 7. It’s personal
• 8. All you need is...
• 9. Floodlights and shadows
• 10. The world’s best-selling author
• 11. An audience with the author
• 12. Spiritual open-heart surgery
• 13. Not just ‘what’ but ‘why’
• 14. The good portion
• Appendix: The goldmine
• Notes