Muslim followers of Jesus…

There has been a bit of a buzz around the blogosphere triggered by this article (HT TSK!)

It points us to a long tradition of followers of Jesus within the Muslim faith. Many of us kind of know something of the fact that Jesus is regarded as a messenger sent by God within Islam. The Qu’ran makes direct reference to Jesus around 25 times.

It records his miraculous birth to the Virgin Mary.

His mission to point people back to God.

His death and resurrection.

And a promise of his second coming.

But even if we knew something of this, we also knew that Islam denies the deity of Jesus, or that he might have been the Son of God.

And most Christians, for thousands of years, have sought to demonise all followers of the Prophet- not just as misguided, but as something darker and more scary.

In this time of war and terror, an examination of the engine of faith on the actions of individuals and whole societies has never been more urgent- certainly not in our life times.

Back to the article.

What Joseph Cumming dared to do was to ask whether it was possible to be a follower of Jesus AND a Moslem. He makes a specific comparison to Messianic Jews, who are able to reconcile their Jewish identity with a faith in Jesus. He points to a movement in the 1980’s of Muslim believers who sought to live out their faith in Jesus within their Islamic context- some even facing persecution along the way.

Now this debate will no doubt trigger many polarised responses- and a whole lot of technical theological debate. What is interesting to me is that this article was placed on the Lausanne Movement website– staunchly Evangelical, with it’s roots in the life and work of Dr Billy Graham.

But what remains for me out of this discussion  is a fragile bridge that may allow the passage of pilgrims who are prepared to work for peace and justice- that may allow again discussion, mutual appreciation and respect between the great ideological faith blocks that oppose one another across the ‘Bethlehem curtain’ (to coin a phrase.)

Many of my friends will recoil in horror. A watering down of faith! An allegiance with the Devil! Syncretism! (I suspect that there are many on the Islamic side of the debate who would use exactly the same phrases.)

Well you know what- If I err, I am going to try to make sure that my error is on the side of grace, and peace, and forgiveness.

Isa would have it no other way.

Squirm…

My mate Andy laughs

Because of a 15 year old boy

He sees inside me

Who makes too many

Risky decisions

And so a leap that ends in mud

Can become analagous

For middle age

Unsuccessfully evaded

Today I made this journey

Through the town where I was born

(But also in my head)

Along scruffy streets

Whose memories

Are monoblocked

Overshadowed by MacDonalds

Pretentious

Under new street furniture

And just underneath my skin

An adolescent

Squirms

Slightly surreal…

We are back home.

Today we spent around 10 hours in the car- driving first to collect Emily from Tocaster, then driving back up to Scotland. The detour to collect Emily was enforced by the chaos caused to air transport by a few specs of dust…

I took the photo above of a sky clear of vapour trails- a rare event these days…

Yesterday was my father-in-law’s funeral. A rather harrowing day- but also full of rather unreal moments, even humourous ones.

One of Michaela’s many cousins following the funeral car on his BMX, with no apparent realisation that anything out of the ordinary was happening- shouting ‘Aunty Mary- that’s my Aunty Mary…

Conversations about all sorts of things that seem to be totally irrelevant to the matter in hand with people that I ought to recognise, but did not. People trying to fill the void with nervous trivia, which serves only as a wafer thin veil of British decorum. And I am partly grateful, whilst at the same time slightly scandalised.

A visit to the graveside later on to be alone and quiet, to discover that the grave next door is being visited by a family who brought their lunch, in the form of chips and mushy peas. One of them lays down their dinner at the foot of Roberts recently filled grave whilst they fiddle with a recently installed set of plastic flowers on the grave of their grandmother. I overhear them proudly describing how they light up at night.

And now I am home. I have almost forgotten what home is like- the last two weeks seem to have stretched over months.

Exhausted- I need to go to my bed (Ahhhh- BED!) but before I do that, I needed to download.

Yesterday I delivered the eulogy at the funeral. The church was packed with people standing outside too.

Robert was a man who had no firm faith- even though he asked questions. He would never see past the starving children and the earthquakes that bury whole villages. So dealing with the end of life, and comforting those around- this had a flavour that constantly brought me up against an inability to be fully open about my own hopes.

I did find a form of words that attempted to gather these things together. I said something like this-

…Today we may have many different ways of understanding what happens to us when we leave this earth.

For some, we live on only in the memories of those who loved us.

All the more reason for us all to cherish our memories of Robert today.

Many others (including me) have a hope that the story of life is not defeated by death.

A hope that there may yet be more laughter and loving and sharing and memories to make.

Death is close to us all.

May it be for us, the next great adventure.

But may there also be comfort and love and hope for those left behind…

Blogging break…

I’ll not be blogging this week- we are still down south, helping prepare for Robert’s funeral- which is now fixed for Friday at 2.00, Pinxton Village Church.

Thanks again friends for your support…

Here are a few photo’s from Robert’s computer.

Robert Bunn, 1945-2010…

 

My father in law Robert passed away today.

A good man, gone on a new adventure.

We are all in shock, as despite his long illness, the end came so quickly.

He was a man of skilled hands.

And a soft heart.

Who knew the most precious thing in life to be- family.

Family…

We are all down in England, spending some time with family.

Michaela’s step father, Robert, is seriously ill in hospital after a second course of chemo-therapy for his leukemia. In the absence of any kind of immune system, he has pneumonia and so things are very scary at the moment. Thanks so much to all of you who are praying and wishing us well…

He is remarkably positive, but very tired.

I’ll let you know more as I know it…

Holy week- darkness…

So, it is almost Easter.

Last night in housegroup we continued to read and discuss the Gospel of Mark, and by some quirk or accident (or design), we came to Mark 14.

The bit that describes how the  Sanhedrin  gathered together anddecided to kill Jesus, even before Pesach if possible.

In the meantime, Jesus was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the leper. Here he was anointed on the head, probably by Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, with very expensive ointment of spikenard.

Some of the disciples were furious; the oil could have been sold to support the poor.

In this context, Judas went to the Sanhedrin and offered them his support in exchange for money. From this moment on Judas was looking for an opportunity to betray Jesus.

Darkness.

It settled on us as we read. It was tangible.

There is a tradition in the church to mark this darkness by celebrating Tenebrae. A service in which candles are gradually extinguished, and then as the darkness falls, a book is slammed shut. It is the end.

There is this verse in Mark where Jesus predicts the terrible effect the next few says will have on us, his followers- “All of you will have your faith shaken” or as the NIV puts it-

“You will all fall away,” Jesus told them, “for it is written:
” ‘I will strike the shepherd,
and the sheep will be scattered.” (v 27)

Faith and doubt. Doubt and faith. Mingled.

Light gets swallowed in darkness.

For a while.

Aoradh wilderness trip 2010- update…

Just to confirm where things are up to with the plans for our trip to Jura on May 1st.

In discussion with the boat operator, I have opted for Pig Bay rather than Glengarisdale. This means that we miss out on having a Bothy, which may have come in useful, but there are caves, and I will take a tarp to rig up if we really need some shelter to cook/commune under. Glengarisdale was just too much of a risk in terms of safe landing and (more particularly) pick-up once landed.

In terms of numbers-

6 people signed up through ‘Emerging Scotland’ site.

3 of us from Dunoon

2 from Preston

2 others from Glasgow

Plus Terry coming out for the boat trip on either the send or the return

(And two dogs!)

Plus 3 possibles-

One bloke from Bute, who has said he wants to come.

Simon M?

Nick- does not think he can make it.

Should be a nice mix of people- and this time, there are 3 WOMEN as part of our gathering!

This gives us the nice problem of needing more than one boat trip. At present, I have provisionally booked an outward trip at 7AM and 8AM on the 1st. Have not been able to confirm returns yet for the Monday, but in the past these have been mid morning.

So- can you please confirm whether you are definitely coming.  If you say yes, then I am afraid you are committing to paying your share of the boat costs even if you drop out!

There are also still be a few places left if you know of any others who might want to join us yet… It would be good to fill the second boat as well…

Really looking forward to the weekend!

Mountain eats man…

I took a walk yesterday with a mate. And the mountain ate us.

They do that.

There is this real tendency to see oursleves as significant. We make the things of our small lives into megaliths. We wall ourselves in with worries and concerns that come to tower over us, and the risk is that we become so accostomed to the shadows that we forget that the sun ever shines.

But today, the mountain was bigger than me.

Hallelujah.