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Yesterday, at something we call ‘Root Group’, which is roughly a café-styled youth church, we took a look at Psalm 105 as part of a series of looking at the Psalms. The basic theme was God’s faithfulness, even when times are tough.
The reading for morning prayer this morning was the same Psalm, along with Deuteronomy 6. That particular chapter of Deuteronomy is most well known for the fact that it contains the ‘shema’, something of a high point of Jewish liturgy. This is the prayer that is prayed daily in morning and evening prayer, and is usually taught to children before they go to sleep. The title comes from the first word, ‘shema’ meaning ‘hear’,
‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone…’
The rest of Deuteronomy 6 on the surface seems to go against the grain of a Gospel of grace , particularly verse 3,
‘Hear therefore, O Israel, and observe [the commandments] diligently, so that it may go well with you, and so that you may multiply greatly in a land flowing with milk and honey, as the Lord, the God of your ancestors, has promised you.’
It seems as if we need to obey in order for things to go well with us. This is a challenge to our Christian faith that often, and rightly, places an emphasis on grace. But if we believe in a Gospel of grace then surely God is with us unconditionally? Do we really need to obey before God will look after us?
A recent trip abroad involved what for me is always a unwise and tricky task of eating an oyster – I am not a fan. Sure enough a few days later I was sick (it may not have been the oysters, perhaps I am being a little unfair to the little slimy shell fish). This led to the question of if we had said grace (which I would normally do, but sometimes forget), would I still have been ill? But surely God knew that I was thankful in my heart even if I did not go through the organisational duty of expressing that thanks vocally; a day of sickness and aching seems a harsh lesson for my forgetfulness.
And I think that we are now getting close to the truth of the matter. Saying grace before a meal is similar to the command in Deuteronomy 6:7-9,
‘Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.’
It is liturgy. Liturgy is public worship, worship changes us not God. Obeying the commands is worship too. If we obey the commands and if we worship God it does not change God it changes us. Our lives are shaped by the liturgy.
Food poisoning does not mean that it did not ‘go well in the land’ (we had a great time); and there is a difference between going through tough times but walking in obedience with God, and going through tough times without God.
As we allow the liturgy to shape our lives we find that we are more and more walking with God, and I guess the beauty of the received liturgy (apart from it being 99.9% the Word of God) is that it reflects this previous paragraph: it is not just about the good times, but about the tough times too, and celebrating God with us. So perhaps it is not that surprising, that someone raised in a Pentecostal church as I was, does find myself turning to the liturgy and appreciating it. It does not depend on my circumstances or my emotions (unlike some charismatic worship). My circumstances change, my emotions change, but God does not change. Therefore what we say about God does not change, the words we say don’t change and the fact that we say them does not change God…but it does change me.
It is hard to say the liturgy when a close family relative is diagnosed with an incurable disease, when you fail an exam and don’t know what the future holds, or when you lose your job. We know the truth of this if we read the Psalms and reflect on the laments and complaints we find there. But I will praise the Lord, for the Lord my God is the only Lord. And He is faithful.
