Mr Moneybags and the Big Issue Seller

 

An old friend, revisited.

Once upon a time, there was a really big city gent, known as Mr Moneybags.
You might have seen him, dressed in an Armani suit,
with a Philippe Patek watch on his wrist,
being driven through Brixton in a really smart car to his offices in the City, or perhaps in Canary Wharf.
Mr Moneybags did a great deal for charity;
he always gave a handsome cheque to Children in Need and Comic Relief, and quite often got himself on the telly giving the cheque to the prettiest presenter.

But in private he thought that the people who needed help from organisations like Comic Relief were losers.
Actually, anybody who earned less than a six-figure salary was a loser, he thought.
He despised his five brothers,
three ex-wives,
ten children,
twenty-five grandchildren
and the hordes of mistresses,
secretaries,
assistants
gofers
and general flunkies
who surrounded him –
and they knew it, too.
Especially, though, he despised homeless people and beggars,
who he thought really only needed to pull themselves together,
to snap out of it,
to get a life.

Particularly, he despised the Big Issue seller
who he used occasionally to come across in the car-park.
He would usually buy a copy, because, after all, one has to do one’s bit, but once in the car would ring Security and get the chap removed.

Laz, they called him, this particular Big Issue seller.
Not that Mr Moneybags knew or cared what he was called.
I’m not quite sure how Laz had ended up on the streets,
selling the Big Issue
or even outright begging.
It might have been drugs, or drink,
or perhaps he was just one of those unfortunate people who simply can’t cope with jobs and mortgages and families
and the other details of everyday life that most of us manage to take in our stride.
But there you are, whatever the reason,
Laz was one of those people.
He was rather a nice person, when you got to know him;
always had a friendly word for everybody,
could make you laugh when you were down,
knew the way to places someone might want to go, that sort of thing.

But what he wasn’t good at was looking after himself,
keeping hospital appointments,
taking medication,
that sort of thing.
And so, one morning, he just didn’t wake up,
and his body was found huddled in his bed at the hostel.
They couldn’t find any relations to take charge of it,
so he was buried at the council’s expense, very quietly, with only the hostel warden there.
But the warden always said, then and ever afterwards,
that he had seen angels come to take Laz to heaven.

At about the same time, Mr Moneybags became ill.
Cancer, they said.
Smoking, they muttered.
Drinking too much….
Rich food….
So sorry, there was very little they could do.
Now, of course, Mr Moneybags wasn’t about to accept this,
and saw specialist after specialist,
and, as he became iller and more desperate, quack after quack.
He tried special diets,
herbal remedies;
he tried coffee enemas,
injections of monkey glands,
you name it, he tried it.
But nothing worked and, as happens to all of us in the end, he died.

His funeral wasn’t very well-attended, either.
Funny, that –
you’d have thought that more of his
five brothers,
three ex-wives,
ten children,
twenty-five grandchildren
and the hordes of mistresses,
secretaries,
assistants
gofers
and general flunkies
might have wanted to be there.
But no.
In the end, only the ones to whom he had left most of his money were there,
and a slew of reporters,
hoping to hear that the company was in trouble.
Which, incidentally, it wasn’t –
whatever else Mr Moneybags may have been,
he was a superb businessman, and the company he founded continues to grow and flourish to this very day.

Anyway, there they were,
Mr Moneybags and Laz the Big Issue seller, both dead.
But, as is the way of things,
it was only their bodies which had died.
Mr Moneybags found himself unceremoniously told to sit on a hot bench in the sun, and wait there.
And he waited, and waited, and waited, and waited,
getting hotter and hotter,
thirstier and thirstier.
And he could see the Big Issue seller, whom he recognised,
being welcomed and fed and made comfortable by someone who could only be Abraham, the Patriarch.
After a bit, he’d had enough.
“Abraham,” he called out, “Couldn’t you send that Big Issue seller to bring me a glass of water, I’m horrendously thirsty?”

And you know the rest of the story.
Abraham said, not ungently,
‘‘Remember, my son, that in your lifetime you were given all the good things, while Lazarus got all the bad things.
But now he is enjoying himself here, while you are in pain.
Besides all that, there is a deep pit lying between us,
so that those who want to cross over from here to you cannot do so,
nor can anyone cross over to us from where you are.’’
And he pointed out that Mr Moneybags’ five brothers,
three ex-wives,
ten children,
twenty-five grandchildren
and the hordes of mistresses,
secretaries,
assistants
gofers
and general flunkies
wouldn’t listen to Laz if he were to go back and tell them –
they really knew it already, thanks to Moses and the Prophets.
You note, incidentally, that Mr Moneybags didn’t ask if he could go back!

---oo0oo---

Jesus had a lot to say about money, and our relationship with it
didn’t he?
And about our relationship with other people, too, for that matter.
Do you remember the story he told about the sheep and the goats?
This was when he reckoned that at the Last Judgement it would be those who had cared for Jesus in the persons of the sick, the prisoners, the hungry and, yes, the Big Issue sellers who would be welcomed into heaven, and those who had ignored him, in those guises, would not.
“For whoever does it unto the least of one of these, does it unto Me”, he said.

It must have come as a shock to Jesus’ hearers.
They had been taught that if you were rich and successful, it meant that God favoured you, and if not, not.
I am always rather amused when I read Matthew’s version of the Beatitudes and compare them with Luke’s –
Luke says, frankly, “Blessed are you when you are hungry, or thirsty, or poor”, but then, he was a Gentile and didn’t have the background that Matthew, a Jew, had.
Matthew can only bring himself to write “Blessed are you when you are poor in spirit, or when you hunger and thirst after righteousness.”
For him, still, poverty is not a sign of God’s favour, but rather the reverse.

Even today, you know, there are those who preach prosperity, they preach that if you are God’s person you will be rich and healthy.
But that isn’t necessarily the case.
Jesus never said that!
Okay, so he healed the sick, but he had a great deal to say about the right attitude to possessions and to other people.

It’s in this sort of area, isn’t it, where what we say we believe comes up smack bang against what we really believe.
We discover, as we study what Jesus really had to say, that being His person isn’t just a matter of believing certain things, it’s about being in a relationship with Him, and about letting him transform us into being a certain kind of person.
It’s no good believing, says St James, if that faith doesn’t transmute itself into actions.
And this seems to be what Jesus says, too.

It’s no good saying you believe in Jesus, and ignoring the very people Jesus wants you to look after –
the dispossessed, the refugees, the downtrodden, the marginalized, the exploited.
It’s not easy, I know.
We do hesitate to give money because of the very real possibility it might be spent on drugs or drink.
The other day I bought a sandwich for the beggar sitting outside Lidl on Acre Lane, and when I came out with it, she had gone!
But there are other ways of giving.
There are various charities we can give to,
or even lend a helping had at.
Brixton Hill’s foodbank on Wednesdays always needs donations, and volunteers, too, for that matter – contact Rev Kristen or my Robert to find out more.
Of course, one can even buy the Big Issue!

Seriously, though, we need to take this sort of thing seriously.
Quite apart from anything else, our very salvation may depend on it.
We say that salvation is by faith, and so it is –
but what is faith if it doesn’t actually cost us anything?
What is faith if it is mere lip-service?

And anyway, what sort of picture are we giving to the world if we just talk the talk, and don’t walk the walk?
Do you remember Eliza Doolittle, in My Fair Lady, exclaiming “Don’t talk of love, show me!”
I reckon the world is saying that to the Church right now.
Don’t let’s just talk about Jesus, let’s show people that he is risen and alive and dwelling within us by the power of his Holy Spirit.
The best way to cultivate a right attitude to money, people and spiritual things is to see the “beggar outside our gate” –
quite literally the Big Issue seller, if you like, but basically anybody who is not like ourselves.
Although, mind you, the other day I bought a sandwich for the beggar sitting outside Lidl and when I cam out she’d gone, so I was left with a sandwich I didn’t want!
You can’t win, sometimes.
But mostly they are thankful for the odd sandwich or pasty or similar.
And we must remember that it could have been us….

The miracle is that the more loosely we hold our possessions, the more we enjoy them,
the more we serve the needs of others, the more we value them, and the more we listen to God’s words, the more we value ourselves.
And, of course, the more we are able to show people Who Jesus Is, and that he is alive today.
Amen.

Children of God

 

I thought that today, for once, we wouldn’t look too closely at the Gospel reading,
as Luke’s account of Jesus’ appearance to the disciples after the Resurrection
is very similar to the account in John’s gospel,
which I expect you looked at last week.
We certainly did at Brixton Hill!

The only thing I will point out is that Luke says Jesus actually ate with them –
ghosts, after all, don’t eat!
So that particular detail is, for the gospel writer,
just another proof that Jesus really was raised.
He wasn’t just a ghost;
he wasn’t just a figment of their imagination.
He ate some fish –
and there’s the dirty plate!

You may have read the first chapter of this letter from John last week, too.
I want to focus on the passage we read today, in a minute.
It isn’t quite a letter, is it –
it’s more of a sermon.
He doesn’t put in the chatty details that Paul puts into his letters,
nor the personal messages.
Nobody seems to know whether it was really the disciple that Jesus loved that wrote the Gospel and this letter,
or whether it was someone writing as from them, which was apparently a recognised literary convention of the day.
But have you ever noticed that right at the very beginning of the letter, or sermon –
hey, let’s just call it an Epistle and have done –
right at the very beginning, he says:

“We write to you about the Word of life, which has existed from the very beginning.
We have heard it, and we have seen it with our eyes;
yes, we have seen it, and our hands have touched it.
When this life became visible, we saw it;
so we speak of it and tell you about the eternal life which was with the Father and was made known to us.”

In other words, the writer, too, claims to have seen, known and touched Jesus!

But to today’s passage.
“See how much the Father has loved us!
His love is so great that we are called God's children –
and so, in fact, we are.”
“See how much the Father has loved us!
His love is so great that we are called God's children –
and so, in fact, we are.”

We are God’s children!
You know, when you come to think of it, that’s a pretty terrifying concept.
People tend to think of themselves as serving God, or as worshipping God.
But to be a child of God?
That’s a whole different ball-game.
After all, if we worship God or serve God,
that doesn’t necessarily imply that God does anything for us in return.
But if we are God’s children?
That’s different!
That implies that God is active in caring for us,
in being involved in our lives,
in minding.

Many of us here this morning have had children of our own.
And all of us have been children!
Perhaps some of us didn’t have very satisfactory childhoods,
or our parents weren’t all they should have been.
The model of God as Father isn’t helpful to everybody, I know.

But I still want to unpack it a bit, if I can, as I do think it’s important.
We are all children of God, so we are told.
We are not servants.
We are not just worshippers.
“Children” implies a two-way relationship.

Actually, it almost implies more than that.
It implies that God does the doing;
we don’t have to.
No, seriously, think about it a minute.
I have a daughter –
she’s grown up and married now, of course,
but for eighteen years she lived at home,
and for many of those years she was totally dependant on Robert and me for everything, and her own boys are on her and her husband –
for food, for clothing, for education, you name it!
And babies need their parents even more than older children do.
Until they are about two or three, they can’t even keep themselves clean, but have to have their nappies changed every few hours.

Parents look after their children.
Quite apart from the seeing to food, clothing, education and so on,
it’s about the daily care –
seeing to it they get up and so on.
All the things we need to remind them to do or not do each day:
Have you washed your hands?
Have you cleaned your teeth?
Put your shoes on.
Put your coat on.
Pull your trousers up, please.....
Don't bite your nails!
And so on and so forth.
But it is, of course, because we care for and about our children,
and want them to grow up to be the best possible person they can be.

And parents do this because they love their children.
Ask any new parent –
all those sleepless nights,
the pacing up and down, the nappies, the lack of sleep –
and yet, they are delighting in that precious baby,
and will show you photographs on the slightest provocation.
And that is just how God feels about us!
Pretty mind-blowing, isn’t it?

And yes, God does want us to grow up to be the person he designed us to be.
And sometimes that will involve saying “No” to us,
as we have to say it to our children.
“No, you mustn’t do that;
no, you can’t have that!”
Not to be mean, not because we are horrid –
although it can feel like that sometimes when you’re on the receiving end –
but because it is for their best.
You can’t let a child do something dangerous;
you can’t allow them to be rude;
they can’t eat unlimited sweets or ices.... and so on.
When my elder grandson was about five, he once said, with a deep sigh, when reminded that sweets weren't very good for him:
“Is anything good for me?”
And the same sort of thing with us.

God loves us enormously and just wants what is best for us.
And because we are, mostly, not small children, we tend to be aware of this, and allow Him to work in us through the power of the Holy Spirit.

John goes on to comment about sin and sinfulness.
It is rather an odd passage, this;
we know that we do sin, sometimes, because we are human.
And yet we know, too, that we are God’s children and we abide in Him.
Yet John here says nobody who sins abides in God.
If he were right, that would mean none of us would, since we are all sinners.

But then, are we?
I mean, yes, we are, but the point is, we are sinners saved by grace, as they say.
God has redeemed us through his Son.
We don’t “abide in sin” any more.

St Paul tells us that when we become Christians, we are “made right” with God through faith in his promises.
I believe the technical term is “justified”, and you remember the meaning because it’s “just as if I’d” never sinned.
However, we also have to grow up to make this a reality in our lives.
That’s called becoming sanctified, made saint-like.

One author described it like this.
Suppose there was a law against jumping in mud puddles.
And you broke that law, and jumped.
You would not only be guilty of breaking the law,
you would also be covered in mud.
My grandsons seem to have spent most of lockdown rolling in the mud in Epping Forest, according to their mother, and they do seem to enjoy getting filthy!
Anyway, when you are justified, you are declared not guilty of breaking that law –
and being sanctified means that you wash off the mud!

So we no longer abide in sin, but are we washing off the mud?
That’s not always easy to do –
the temptation to conform to the world’s standards can be overwhelming at times.
We all have different temptations, of course;
I can’t claim to be virtuous because I don’t gamble,
since gambling simply doesn’t appeal to me!
But I am apt to procrastinate, and can be horrendously grouchy at times, particularly when stressed.
And I am very prone to self-pity.

These lockdowns have been stressful for all of us, I think, and many of us have found it all too easy to get cross at the slightest provocation.

And even now there is light at the end of the tunnel, we know we’re not out of the wood yet – we could easily still be locked down again.
Look how all Lambeth residents have been told to get a PCR test because there have been a few cases of a variant of the virus –
and we are all supposed to get two lateral flow tests a week, too,
though quite why those of us who have been vaccinated must do so escapes me.
But the point is, it’s stressful, and I’m finding it all but impossible to make plans more than a couple of days in advance.
And I know I’m not the only one to have found it all very difficult –
I’ve had it easy, of course;
I’m retired, so I haven’t had the worry about a job;
I live within a few metres of a large supermarket, so shopping hasn’t been an issue, and so on.
But even still, I can’t pretend it’s been easy, and there have been times when I’ve had to cling on to the fact that my relationship with God depends far more on God than it does on me!
But once, some years ago now, I posted a very self-pitying status on Facebook – can’t remember now what I said.
But a couple of posts down on my feed, someone had posted “Cast all your cares on Him, for he cares for you!”
So I laughed, deleted my status, and tried to do just that.
But you know, and I know, that it’s not always easy!

And, of course, there are those who have not said “Yes” to God,
who perhaps have no idea of doing so.
In this model, they are not God’s children –
but that doesn’t mean they are not loved!
Indeed, God so loved the world that he sent his Son while we were still sinners, so we are told.
God loves the worst and most horrible person you could imagine,
just as much as he loves you or he loves me.
Even terrorists.
Even paedophiles.
Jesus died for them, too.
Just as he died for you, and just as he died for me.

And we, we are Children of God.
We are God’s precious Children.
We are not just servants of God.
We are not just worshippers.
We are children.
And the Risen Christ calls us his friends. Amen.

Children of God

powered by podcast garden 

Very similar, but not quite identical, to one preached in 2009 with the same title.  Moreover, the presence of two small boys in Church meant that I departed from my script more than somewhat, so the podcast is different again!

I thought that today, for once, we wouldn’t look too closely at the Gospel reading,

as Luke’s account of Jesus’ appearance to the disciples after the Resurrection

is very similar to the account in John’s gospel,

which I expect you looked at last week.

The only thing I will point out is that Luke says Jesus actually ate with them –

ghosts, after all, don’t eat!

So that particular detail is, for the gospel writer,

just another proof that Jesus really was raised.

He wasn’t just a ghost;

he wasn’t just a figment of their imagination.

He ate some fish –

and there’s the dirty plate!

You may have read the first chapter of this letter from John last week, too.

I want to focus on the passage we read today, in a minute.

It isn’t quite a letter, is it –

it’s more of a sermon.

He doesn’t put in the chatty details that Paul puts into his letters,

nor the personal messages.

Nobody seems to know whether it was really the disciple that Jesus loved that wrote the Gospel and this letter,

or whether it was someone writing as from them, which was apparently a recognised literary convention of the day.

But I noticed last week that right at the very beginning of the letter, or sermon – hey, let’s just call it an Epistle and have done –

right at the very beginning, he says:

“We write to you about the Word of life, which has existed from the very beginning.

We have heard it, and we have seen it with our eyes;

yes, we have seen it, and our hands have touched it.

When this life became visible, we saw it;

so we speak of it and tell you about the eternal life which was with the Father and was made known to us.”

In other words, the writer, too, claims to have seen, known and touched Jesus!

But to today’s passage.

“See how much the Father has loved us!

His love is so great that we are called God's children –

and so, in fact, we are.”

“See how much the Father has loved us!

His love is so great that we are called God's children –

and so, in fact, we are.”

We are God’s children!

You know, when you come to think of it, that’s a pretty terrifying concept.

People tend to think of themselves as serving God, or as worshipping God.

But to be a child of God?

That’s a whole different ball-game.

After all, if we worship God or serve God,

that doesn’t necessarily imply that God does anything for us in return.

But if we are God’s children?

That’s different!

That implies that God is active in caring for us,

in being involved in our lives,

in minding.

Many of us here this morning have had children of our own.

And all of us have been children!

Perhaps some of us didn’t have very satisfactory childhoods,

or our parents weren’t all they should have been.

The model of God as Father isn’t helpful to everybody, I know.

But I still want to unpack it a bit, if I can, as I do think it’s important.

We are all children of God, so we are told.

We are not servants.

We are not just worshippers.

“Children” implies a two-way relationship.

Actually, it almost implies more than that.

It implies that God does the doing;

we don’t have to.

No, seriously, think about it a minute.

I have a daughter –

she’s grown up and married now, of course,

but for eighteen years she lived at home,

and for many of those years she was totally dependant on Robert and me for everything, and her little boys are on her and her husband –

for food, for clothing, for education, you name it!

And babies – my younger grandson is only just a toddler, rather than a baby – need their parents even more than older children do.

Nicholas can't even keep himself clean yet;

someone has to change his nappy for him every few hours.

Parents look after their children.

Quite apart from the seeing to food, clothing, education and so on,

it’s about the daily care –

seeing to it they get up and so on.

All the things we need to remind them to do or not do each day:

Have you washed your hands?

Have you cleaned your teeth?

Put your shoes on.

Put your coat on.

Pull your trousers up, please.....

Don't bite your nails!

And so on and so forth.

But it is, of course, because we care for and about our children,

and want them to grow up to be the best possible person they can be.

And parents do this because they love their children.

Ask any new parent –

all those sleepless nights,

the pacing up and down, the nappies, the lack of sleep –

and yet, they are delighting in that precious baby,

and will show you photographs on the slightest provocation.

And that is just how God feels about us!

Pretty mind-blowing, isn’t it?

And yes, God does want us to grow up to be the person he designed us to be.

And sometimes that will involve saying “No” to us,

as we have to say it to our children.

“No, you mustn’t do that;

no, you can’t have that!”

Not to be mean, not because we are horrid –

although it can feel like that sometimes when you’re on the receiving end –

but because it is for their best.

You can’t let a child do something dangerous;

you can’t allow them to be rude;

they can’t eat unlimited sweets or ices.... and so on.

My elder grandson once said, with a deep sigh, when reminded that sweets weren't very good for him:

“Is anything good for me?”

And the same sort of thing with us.

God loves us enormously and just wants what is best for us.

And because we are, mostly, not small children, we tend to be aware of this, and allow Him to work in us through the power of the Holy Spirit.

John goes on to comment about sin and sinfulness.

It is rather an odd passage, this;

we know that we do sin, sometimes, because we are human.

And yet we know, too, that we are God’s children and we abide in Him.

Yet John here says nobody who sins abides in God.

If he were right, that would mean none of us would, since we are all sinners.

But then, are we?

I mean, yes, we are, but the point is, we are sinners saved by grace, as they say.

God has redeemed us through his Son.

We don’t “abide in sin” any more.

St Paul tells us that when we become Christians, we are “made right” with God through faith in his promises.

I believe the technical term is “justified”, and you remember the meaning because it’s “just as if I’d” never sinned.

However, we also have to grow up to make this a reality in our lives.

That’s called becoming sanctified, made saint-like.

One author described it like this.

Suppose there was a law against jumping in mud puddles.

And you broke that law, and jumped.

You would not only be guilty of breaking the law,

you would also be covered in mud.

So when you are justified, you are declared not guilty of breaking that law –

and being sanctified means that you wash off the mud!

So we no longer abide in sin, but are we washing off the mud?

That’s not always easy to do –

the temptation to conform to the world’s standards can be overwhelming at times.

We all have different temptations, of course;

I can’t claim to be virtuous because I don’t gamble,

since gambling simply doesn’t appeal to me!

But I am apt to procrastinate, and can be horrendously grouchy at times, particularly when stressed, as I am at the moment.

Robert is to retire next week

– NEXT WEEK, oh help

and our lives are going to change in unimaginable ways.

And my parents are selling the house they have lived in since 1958, and that is also going to bring huge changes.

I am not very good at change!

I am also very inclined to suffer from self-pity,

and the other day I posted a really self-pitying update on Facebook because of all this stress.

And two posts down, someone from Brixton Hill had posted:

“Cast all your anxiety upon Him, for he cares for you!”

That was me told, then!

I laughed, and deleted the status, and have tried to do just exactly that, but it isn't always easy, is it?

And, of course, there are those who have not said “Yes” to God,

who perhaps have no idea of doing so.

In this model, they are not God’s children –

but that doesn’t mean they are not loved!

Indeed, God so loved the world that he sent his Son while we were still sinners, so we are told.

God loves the worst and most horrible person you could imagine,

just as much as he loves you or he loves me.

Even terrorists.

Even paedophiles.

Jesus died for them, too.

Just as he died for you, and just as he died for me.

And we, we are Children of God.

We are God’s precious Children.

We are not just servants of God.

We are not just worshippers.

We are children.

And the Risen Christ calls us his friends.

Amen.

Children of God

I thought that today, for once, we wouldn’t look too closely at the Gospel reading, as Luke’s account of Jesus’ appearance to the disciples after the Resurrection is very similar to the account in John’s gospel, which I expect you looked at last week. We certainly did at King’s Acre! The only thing I will point out is that Luke says Jesus actually ate with them – ghosts, after all, don’t eat! So that particular detail is, for the gospel writer, just another proof that Jesus really was raised. He wasn’t just a ghost; he wasn’t just a figment of their imagination. He ate some fish – and there’s the dirty plate!

We read the first chapter of this letter from John last week, too. I want to focus on the passage we read today, in a minute. It isn’t quite a letter, is it – it’s more of a sermon. He doesn’t put in the chatty details that Paul puts into his letters, nor the personal messages. Nobody seems to know whether it was really the disciple that Jesus loved that wrote the Gospel and this letter, or whether it was someone writing as from them, which was apparently a recognised literary convention of the day. But I noticed last week that right at the very beginning of the letter, or sermon – hey, let’s just call it an Epistle and have done – right at the very beginning, he says: “That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched – this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us.” In other words, the writer, too, claims to have seen, known and touched Jesus!

But to today’s passage. “How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” “How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!”

We are God’s children! You know, when you come to think of it, that’s a pretty terrifying concept. People tend to think of themselves as serving God, or as worshipping God. But to be a child of God? That’s a whole different ball-game. After all, if we worship God or serve God, that doesn’t necessarily imply that God does anything for us in return. But if we are God’s children? That’s different! That implies that God is active in caring for us, in being involved in our lives, in minding.

Many of us here this morning have had children of our own. And all of us have been children! Perhaps some of us didn’t have very satisfactory childhoods, or our parents weren’t all they should have been. The model of God as Father isn’t helpful to everybody, I know.

But I still want to unpack it a bit, if I can, as I do think it’s important. We are all children of God, so we are told. We are not servants. We are not just worshippers. “Children” implies a two-way relationship.

Actually, it almost implies more than that. It implies that God does the doing; we don’t have to. No, seriously, think about it a minute. I have a daughter – she’s grown up and married now, of course, but for eighteen years she lived at home, and for many of those years she was totally dependant on Robert and me for everything – for her food, for her clothing, for her education, you name it! When she was a tiny baby, she needed us even more, as babies do. They can’t even keep themselves clean without a parent or other carer to see to that for them.

Parents look after their children. Quite apart from the seeing to food, clothing, education and so on, it’s about the daily care – seeing to it they get up and so on. There’s a video doing the rounds on YouTube at the moment, called “The Mom Song”, where a woman sings all the things she’s apt to say to her children over the course of a day to the tune of the William Tell Overture. It’s extremely funny; do look it up sometime. And okay, so we do say the same things over and over again: Have you cleaned your teeth? Have you done your homework? Have you fed your hamster? Don’t talk with your mouth full. And so on and so forth. But it is, of course, because we care for and about our children, and want them to grow up to be the best possible person they can be.

And parents do this because they love their children. Ask any new parent – all those sleepless nights, the pacing up and down, the nappies, the lack of sleep – and yet, they are delighting in that precious baby, and will show you photographs on the slightest provocation. And that is just how God feels about us! Pretty mind-blowing, isn’t it?

And yes, God does want us to grow up to be the person he designed us to be. And sometimes that will involve saying “No” to us, as we have to say it to our children. “No, you mustn’t do that; no, you can’t have that!” Not to be mean, not because we are horrid – although it can feel like that sometimes when you’re on the receiving end – but because it is for their best. You can’t let a child do something dangerous; you can’t allow them to be rude; they can’t eat unlimited sweets or ices.... and so on. And the same sort of thing with us.

God loves us enormously and just wants what is best for us. And because we are, mostly, not small children, we tend to be aware of this, and allow Him to work in us through the power of the Holy Spirit.

John goes on to comment about sin and sinfulness. It is rather an odd passage, this; we know that we do sin, sometimes, because we are human. And yet we know, too, that we are God’s children and we abide in Him. Yet John here says nobody who sins abides in God. If he were right, that would mean none of us would, since we are all sinners.

But then, are we? I mean, yes, we are, but the point is, we are sinners saved by grace, as they say. God has redeemed us through his Son. We don’t “abide in sin” any more.

St Paul tells us that when we become Christians, we are “made right” with God through faith in his promises. I believe the technical term is “justified”, and you remember the meaning because it’s “just as if I’d” never sinned. However, we also have to grow up to make this a reality in our lives. That’s called becoming sanctified, made saint-like.

One author described it like this. Suppose there was a law against jumping in mud puddles. And you broke that law, and jumped. You would not only be guilty of breaking the law, you would also be covered in mud. So when you are justified, you are declared not guilty of breaking that law – and being sanctified means that you wash off the mud! Or, to be more accurate, God helps us (through the power of the Holy Spirit) to get rid of the mud, just as we would help a muddy child to have a shower and get some clean, dry clothes.

So we no longer abide in sin, but are we washing off the mud? Are we allowing God to help us wash off the mud? That’s not always easy to do – the temptation to conform to the world’s standards can be overwhelming at times. We all have different temptations, of course; I can’t claim to be virtuous because I don’t gamble, since gambling simply doesn’t appeal to me! But I am apt to procrastinate, and can be grouchy at times! And so it goes.

And, of course, there are those who have not said “Yes” to God, who perhaps have no idea of doing so. In this model, they are not God’s children – but that doesn’t mean they are not loved! Indeed, God so loved the world that he sent his Son while we were still sinners, so we are told. God loves the worst and most horrible person you could imagine, just as much as he loves you or he loves me. Even terrorists. Even paedophiles. Jesus died for them, too. Just as he died for you, and just as he died for me.

And we, we are Children of God. We are God’s precious Children. We are not just servants of God. We are not just worshippers. We are children. And the Risen Christ calls us his friends. Amen.