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On the second day of Christmas… two awesome free apps

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12days

YouVersion

Also known as The Bible App, YouVersion is just amazing: you get access to a host of translations of the Bible, and you can have some of those off-line.

You can comment, or highlight verses in different colours, although this is not carried across various translations. You get to share those verses to various social networks or apps, including Evernote –  which is very useful if you want to get back to them later!

You get existing plans where you can track your progress, and this  is a real help to get into a routine, rather than having to flick to the right page.

Finally, there is a browser version that is synced with your phone, so you can get back to your own notes on all platforms!

Evernote

And I mentioned it above, Evernote is just the amazing on-the-go notebook. Use it to record thoughts, organise them, move them around.

Use them to store Bible verses. Expand on them, jot down your thoughts. Upload pictures, which you then download onto your computer. Write down recipes. Or addresses for Christmas cards.

I used to use GMail’s drafts to keep such snippets of information; EverNote is much more convenient! But don’t take my word for it – take Ben Reed‘s, or, better, try it yourself!

Two awesome apps, and a fun fact about the Bible

On the first day of Christmas… a little-known fact about the Bible

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12days

The Wicked Bible

Have you heard of it? It so happens that in the days when printing Bibles was expensive, some mistakes happened. So, at the start of Bibles, you would find a “List of faultes escaped”, i.e. all the typos that were to be found inside the Bible.

One such typo happened in a very unfortunate place: a “not” was missed out. The so-called “Wicked Bible” therefore read “Thou shalt commit adultery”

More info on Wikipedia

There was no space at the inn… a tale about predestination

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As Christmas is coming very, very soon, we all tend to look back to stories of Nativity. Jesus was born in a manger, in a stable because there was no space at the inn.

nativity

Photo – Evelyn Simak, reused under CC license

Surprising? Let’s ignore the historical elements for a bit, and go with the culturally overwhelming view: many people had gone back to Bethlehem for the census, and poor Mary and Joseph did not book ahead because, obviously, they had no smartphone to do so (seriously, how did they cope?). Still surprising – and of all the places that God could choose to be born in, why choose that specific time and place?

The easiest interpretation is to go for the poverty argument: Jesus, siding with the poor and coming to dwell with us, should also dwell with the poor. Simples, makes sense. Except he then goes on to receive Kingly gifts… Ah, the contrasts of Christianity! But that is for another post altogether.

So there is still some surprise. Let us, still imagining the inn as an ancient day Travelodge, suppose there was room at the inn. Joseph (or Mary!) would have given some money and stayed at the inn. He would have been entitled to stay. It would have been a contractual relationship: one where he receives shelter in exchange for money.

That they were allowed to stay in the stable is extra-contractual. It comes as a freewill offering of whomever the stable belongs to: in short, Joseph and Mary weren’t entitled to stay the night there, yet they did. Welcoming the Incarnate God was not forced upon anyone; rather, it was the outcome of a free decision.

The situation may be worse, however. See, as I found out while researching for this post, there was (probably) no inn; rather, Luke was talking about a guest room.

The word κατάλυμα, seemingly, refers to a guest room; whereas inns involving payment are referred to with a different word (πανδοχεῖον). A common interpretation is that Joseph, returning to his hometown, had relatives there who could (and should!) lodge them all. So what happened? We’re just told there was no room in the guest room. Admittedly, the possibility remains that Joseph had siblings (we don’t know about them!), and that they also came back, thereby filling up the guest room. But it seems unlikely that it was so full there was no space at all for Joseph and Mary; especially considering the greater need of a pregnant woman (although that may be a modern Western view).

What this means is that Joseph’s relatives (let us assume) came up with an excuse not to welcome them in, and allowed them, possibly grudgingly, to stay downstairs with the animals. After all, Mary had conceived outside of wedlock, and well-to-do villagers could not possibly allow an unmarried pregger in. So they did the very minimum they could do and allowed them to stay at arm’s length, with the animals.

Rejected, scorned by the ones who should have welcomed him. It’s not a matter of making the positive choice to accept Jesus into the kataluma; it’s a matter of actually refusing to do what we were elected to do, refusing to welcome him into our hearts, minds and souls. That grace may not be irresistible, does not allow us to boast in receiving it, because it is still undeserved and our response is what we ought to do anyway.

Just like Joseph’s relatives, we’d need  an excuse. We find that easily. We say, sometimes, that there is no room for religion, no room for prayer, no room for a relationship in our lives – or that we’re not ready; but that sometime, maybe, we might take the time to look into that. I wonder, what our excuses are sometimes, and whether we make sure there is room nor just in our mind, but also in our heart and soul.

Do we allow Jesus into our stable or do we let him in to our innermost?

9 myths about baptism

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Baptism is still considered by most denominations to be a very important moment; yet there is relatively little teaching about it in churches and much confusion about it still abounds. Here are 9 myths about baptism

baptism

Photo by ucb, reused under CC license

1. You have to be ready to be baptised.

Why is it a myth? Because we couldn’t get ourselves ready. We couldn’t make ourselves acceptable in the sight of God. The idea that you’d have to be a shining example of good behaviour before being allowed to get baptised, is just wrong.

So, you might tell me, “ah, but you have to know what you’re getting yourself into before you can make the decision”. A bit like knowing whom you’re marrying. And whilst there is some truth in that, the argument can be pushed to the extreme: why not complete a doctorate in theology before making the decision?
Within the Anglican church, a simple set of six questions is asked to candidates for adult baptism. They’re simple enough and they are most definitely sufficient. I would even argue they ask too much, in too theologically loaded phrasing, and that the word “candidate” in that setting is incredibly misused (as if you could fail at baptism!)

We love,  because God loved us first. That love is not conditional upon our actions, our theological knowledge, or any such thing. The same goes for baptism: as soon as we are able to recognise that love and where it comes from, we are as ready for baptism as we’re going to be.

2. Once you’re baptised, you stop sinning.

If only! Baptism is no magic wand. It is not something that turns you instantly from a sinner into a saint. It marks symbolically the start of the sanctification process, the death to the old self and the birth to the new self. But being baptised does not make us perfect. Church remains a hospital for sinners rather than a museum of saints.
Crucially, though, thinking that sin stops after baptism reinforces the (wrong) idea that you have to be ready for baptism: ready to give up sin, and strong enough to do so. But all that is asked is a willingness to do so – to turn to Christ and to realise that we have something better to hold on to.

3. Baptism is, first and foremost, an opportunity for evangelism.

I have heard that one before, and more than once. Some churches encourage this by getting the baptised-to-be to give a testimony of how they came to Christ at the baptismal service. It is true that baptism is a public affirmation of a private change.Yet imagine the same sentence with “baptism” replaced by “marriage”. Or “Christmas”. It would sound weird to treat either of these occasions as primarily opportunities for evangelism. It is true that they are moments when unchurched people may attend a service; and as such they do constitute opportunities for evangelism. But that’s not what they are about.
Just so with baptism. Leaving the God-directed part of baptism, the commitment to God out of it, makes baptism a hollow shell.

4. Baptism is a private affair.

Faith can be seen as a private affair in secular countries. On top of that, baptism is something very intimate, and personal: it can be seen as either the start or a significant stage at least in a very personal journey. Therefore, some could argue, baptism should remain between me and God, and whosoever is baptising me.
If baptism were private, though, it would be a private affirmation of a private change: in other terms, it would simply be a validation of what has already happened. A bit like receiving your degree certificate through the post. Is that validation necessary, though? Considering baptism as something private is both giving the event too much importance, and the process of sanctification too little.

5. If it’s not full immersion, it doesn’t count.

A lot of modern, evangelical churches insist on baptism being full immersion. I find that quite ironic, given the same churches’ reticence to follow set liturgy, but are so deadly intent on doing other things the “proper way”. Yes, βαπτίζω, whence we get the word baptism, does mean “immerse”. And yes, symbolically, full immersion implies the entire person, body and mind; and therefore reflects the fullness of the commitment made to Christ in baptism. And refusing full immersion for the sake of keeping your sinning hand from this commitment denotes a lack of willingness to submit to Christ altogether!
But while full immersion should not be shunned, it should not necessarily be insisted on: the apostles gave specific guidance on baptism, which recognises baptism by affusion as a proper way to proceed, and suggests other parts to baptism which aren’t really adhered to; and – most importantly, what is it supposed to count for?

6. If it’s not said with the proper words or by the right person, it doesn’t count.

This is the opposite end of the low/high-church spectrum. There is an authorised liturgy for baptisms in the Church of England – but this is more for the sake of unity than on theological grounds (I hope!). After all, in all that, the same as above applies: what is it supposed to count for?

7. Baptism is not really important, so it doesn’t matter whether you get baptised or not.

This is a tough one. If baptism is not what you get saved by, why the hell should you get baptised? After all, it’s not like you’re going to stop sinning afterwards…
While you’re at it, why should you take communion? Or worship?

And it is true – some denominations do not practise baptism. But then the question comes up: why did Jesus get baptised? What was the point, other than showing us the way, and marking his acceptance by his Father?

Baptism is a mark of submission, it is a step forward, an important stage in a journey – and a public commitment to which we can be held to account. That, in itself, makes baptism important – without even needing to use scripture as back-up.

8. Baptism is so important that if you don’t get baptised, you’ll rot in hell. Therefore, babies should be baptised.

Again at the opposite end of the spectrum, some denominations hold that baptism is necessary for salvation; and therefore baptise babies just to make sure they will make their way to heaven. Yet grace, not baptism, is what saves us. And that grace is through faith, not through baptism. (And, in any case, those who are saved were predestined… what? :-P )

9. Infant baptism is an abomination/plainly repugnant to the Bible

While infant baptism seems to suggest that salvation is obtained through reception of sacraments, it is not necessarily the theology behind the practice. Baptism denotes more than a one-way process where an individual declares their informed decision to follow Christ. It also marks a welcome into the Christian church; and there is no reason to withhold that welcome from children. How Jesus deals with children goes a long way to show that.

What are your thoughts? How do you see baptism?

Death is a bitch

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I wonder how you felt when you read this title. Which word shocked you the most? Was it the mention of death? Or was it the cursing?

Photo: Martyn Gorman, re-used under CC license

There is a certain rawness to cursing which cannot be carried across by polite language. Because curses, when unexpected, shock. Just like death: when it happens unexpectedly to someone close to you, it shocks you. And it wouldn’t do the bereft justice; it wouldn’t be kind or loving towards them to sweeten it up with polite words. Saying words such as “A passing is a difficult moment” is plainly repugnant to the pain that the bereft feel. Nearly as bad is “My condolences“: all of these make the suffering an abstract object and simply hide its reality, alongside death’s.

But death that surprises – sudden death: that has the same sort of rawness to it. The kind of shock that makes you go back and check in disbelief. The kind of shock that makes you want not to believe it happened. You are left completely perplexed: why did it happen? How is it fair? Where does that leave… me?

And there’s no answer to give to these questions, none that will bring solace. The promise of a heaven up there somewhere does not bring any form of answer to these questions – it is simply placing hope in a distant future, boxing in our pain with a hope that can never be tested, and with a hope that is, if considered independently of the rest of the promise, incredibly fragile.

So that’s why I picked this title: because I did not want to sugarcoat death into something that “just happens, and life goes on.” And, in more than a way, I think this title sums up perfectly what I want to say about death.

There’s more to that statement, too: death is a bitch. It has been submitted. We can look at death, and it will still bite, but it cannot hurt us – not really: death has lost its sting. This last sentence is far more offensive than the title, though: it appears to say that the pains that people feel at the death of loved ones is imaginary or faked. No, these pains are real.

But their truth is passing. See, the main stinging power of death is that it reminds us that we’re not in control. But death is not the victor; death is not the one in control; and neither are we. We don’t own our lives. The things that make us feel secure are just passing, transient illusions; until we realise they are not for us to hold on to. In giving ourselves over to the One who saves, we can see death for the submitted bitch it truly is; and that has the power to comfort.

And once death has lost its sting, we enjoy life eternal, and we enjoy it now.

Note: for any friends who may worry after reading this, I want to make abundantly clear that I did not personally suffer a bereavement. But I was told of someone getting run over and the pain was so visible it was impossible not to be moved.