One of the children’s songs I remember best from growing up has the line, “He’s got the whole world in his hands”. But sometimes the stark reality of life going on around us can make us question whether that’s really true. Whether it’s some disaster or crisis happening in the world ‘out there’, or a personal tragedy closer to home, we can begin to question whether God is really good – or whether he’s actually in control. 

And so I think it’s great that pastor & writer Christopher Ash has written a new book, Where Was God When That Happened?, engaging with some of these issues. It comes in The Good Book Company’s bitesize Questions Christians Ask series, and Christopher kindly took the time to answer a few questions about relating to God – and to each other – when events  make us question God’s grip on the world.

First-off, for those who don’t know you Christopher, could you tell us a bit about yourself?

God kindly enabled me to hear and respond to the gospel as a teenager, while in the sixth form at school. I was shaped by excellent nurture in Christian summer camps (what is now Titus Trust) and then learned practical ministry as a teacher in two secondary schools before training to be a pastor. I am married to Carolyn and we have been entrusted with three sons and a daughter, all now grown up, and three grandchildren. After serving as an Assistant Minister in Cambridge and leading a small church plant, I was responsible for the Proclamation Trust’s Cornhill Training Course in London from 2004-2015. Carolyn and I are now back in Cambridge, where I am self-employed as “Writer in Residence” at Tyndale House and “Ministry Trainer” at St.Andrew the Great church. I enjoy playing tennis and don’t so much enjoy supporting Swansea City F.C. (this season so far!).

The book is about a subject that could be very personal, as well as one that’s inevitably theological too. What led you to write this book?

It is not that I have experienced any great suffering, but rather that, in Christian pastoral work, you are so often alongside brothers and sisters who are going through tough times. I have had some myself, though pretty mild by comparison to others. Studying, preaching, and writing about the book of Job (Job: the Wisdom of the Cross and Out of the Storm) have helped me grapple with these deep questions both theologically and experientially.

In your experience, what stops us as Christians from believing God is really in control?

Well, we believe it in theory. We tick the “I believe God is in control” box. But when we are blind-sided by some shock, we forget what we believe. The suffering, disappointment, trauma, or distress numb our feelings and confuse our thoughts, so that our emotions are in such turmoil that what we know gets archived into some backwater of our consciousness. At least, that is what I find. It is pathetic really, but I may not be alone.

How can we learn to trust God more in the midst of situations that seem awful and contrary to life as it was created to be?

I think we need one another in this, as in so much of the Christian life. Although I ought to preach the truth to myself, I find I need brothers and sisters gently to tell me, remind me of what I already know in theory. And I should learn to do this with others. We need a brother or sister to come alongside us, pray for us, listen to us, be patient with us and gently turn our gaze from the destructive inwardness of self-pity into the faith-building focus on the promises of God.

What would you say to someone who feels like they can’t begin to grasp how God being in control of a horrific situation could ever come out well for God, or be something to celebrate?

I might not say anything much to start with, but I hope I would listen and pray. But what I want to say is this: don’t worry about grasping it, let alone celebrating it; it’s true whether or not you grasp it. Your security in the love of God does not depend on your grasping it; God the Father loves you with an unchanging love in Christ (and your or my erratic or even desperate feelings cannot change that). The time will come – most likely at the end of time – when we will freely and gladly celebrate; but let’s not worry too much about that now. Otherwise feeling we ought to understand and celebrate becomes just another burden to bear.

What advice would you give to those seeking to be faithful friends to those who are facing tragedy?

Be patient, be practical, be kind. Don’t pretend you understand their suffering, let alone why God has done it. Reassure them of the goodness and love of God in the Lord Jesus. Point them to the Cross. Above all, love them and let them know that you love them.

Lastly, did anything surprise you about writing this book?

I think the need for patience. Maybe I expected the bible answers, and in a way I think I have found and summarized them. But the whole thing of time – God’s instrument to work patient perseverance in us. In a hurried culture, I think that surprised me and corrected my hurry.

Thanks for asking me. I hope my reflections will prove helpful to someone.

Christopher, thank you very much for your time – both in sharing your reflections here, and in writing this book.

You can pick up a copy of Where Was God When That Happened? from the publisher here. At £3.31, it’s a bargain – and you can pick up ten for less than £3 each.

It’s fairly easy to hype-up a decent book with inordinate adjectives such as ‘prophetic’ or ‘profound’, but with A Better Story, it seems that such labels might well be due praise. Glynn Harrison has written a compelling and constructive account of how Christians might go about communicating what the Bible has to say on the topic of ‘God, Sex and Human Flourishing,’ and all because he thinks it’s imperative that we take seriously how our cultural moment shapes how we engage.

Consequently, this book is not so much designed to convince you of the traditional Christian sexual ethic (which is the position Glynn holds to), as it is intended to inspire and guide those of us who hold these convictions as we seek to articulate them in a way that better engages with our cultural landscape. In that sense, A Better Story is really a reflection on how we go about living as exiles in a culture that rests upon presuppositions significantly opposed to a traditional Christian framework.

Recognising the Revolution

But why does this even matter? Because a ‘revolution’ has occurred, to use Glynn’s often repeated term. As he puts it later, the home team suddenly feels like the away team, and we’re not quite sure how it happened. And not only do orthodox Christians find themselves in the minority, but they are often cast as an “immoral minority”. As such, we simply can’t keep operating in a way that pretends this isn’t the case, nor is the solution to just shout louder.

Even the events of the past week, in which the Church of England’s House of Bishops have affirmed a traditional understanding of sexuality and marriage and have been generally vilified in response, shows just how ‘far back’ the Church is perceived to be. But Glynn argues the real problem lies not in being a minority, but rather in not recognising that we are a minority, and therefore not acting accordingly. And so he suggests three action steps, which form the main sections of the book: having a better understanding; thinking through a better critique; and then offering a better story (which in turn requires being better storytellers).

Anyone who has read Glynn’s excellent first book, The Big Ego Trip (essentially a Christian approach to the self-esteem movement) will not be surprised by his acute awareness and appreciation of history and culture. This is captured powerfully in his initial section as he unpacks how the gradual shift regarding how sex is considered within the culture has occurred. This is framed within a wider narrative of autonomy. Glynn argues that, if we haven’t already done so, we need to acknowledge that what the revolution offered was for “something better, more inclusive and life-giving than what the Church offered in the past”.

A Legacy Exposed

In his second section he turns to critique, with Glynn modelling both self-awareness and nuance, whilst still also offering a devastating exposure of the state of affairs of society. Take these two snapshot sentences:

“The vision of sexual liberation, supposedly set free from its broader Christian narrative of commitment and responsibility, simply doesn’t have enough ‘beef’, enough intrinsic meaning and purpose, to motivate and sustain sexual interest over the longer term.”

…“The bravado of the sexual revolution… has turned out to be a weak, vulnerable thing needing costly coddling by an army of agony aunts and sex therepists. And because it never quite delivers, people end up tumbling through a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey, or making yet more swipes of the Tinder app, or another visit to a pornography site…”

Telling A Better Story

As we finally turn to application, we get to A Better Story’s raison d’être. This is Glynn at his most passionate and most compelling. The temptation for those who (quite rightly) prize orthodoxy will be to default to articulating ourselves solely in terms of statements and propositions, and thus merely engaging minds (albeit, if those minds are even bothering to listen). Instead we need to speak into the culture in a manner that seeks to cast a compelling narrative that engages hearts. Ultimately stories matter because our identities are often rooted in “the story we tell ourselves about ourselves, an inner narrative that gives a sense of meaning and coherence to our lives.” And so we need to respond to the story of revolution with a ‘better story’.

But this isn’t just about how we speak about sex in the culture ‘out there’. For a start, Glynn is concerned that our lack of substance in this conversation is resulting in a generation of young evangelicals “salami-slicing their convictions about the authority of the Bible”. However there is also the alternative danger of Christians basing their opinions simply on an emotional response to an issue. This is concerning at best, and bigotry at worst. Instead, “orthodox convictions around sexual ethics need to be based in reason and calm analysis, not elephant-based gut response driven by fear and disgust”. Similarly, Glynn is mindful of the ‘double-jeopardy’ being faced by Christian young people already struggling to live distinctly amidst the potent air of the revolution, who are then made to also feel shame from their own Christian culture for just wanting to actually talk about these issues. Either way, saying nothing is just not an option; no story still comes across as a story, just not a very attractive one.

And this isn’t just about pragmatics or packaging. I found A Better Story to be theologically rich; Glynn’s account of the five theological convictions that should shape a Christian account of sexuality were both deep and astute. Likewise, the image of our Christian identity as a two-sided coin, both created and redeemed, was one that has gone straight into my illustration kitbag. There’s a very stimulating chapter on how Christians contribute to a vision of human flourishing, and Glynn also helpfully reflects on the current debate concerning the so-called ‘Benedict Option’ and the ‘Wilberforce Option’, two opposing visions of how Western Christians should position themselves in their culture.

A Game-Changer

The bottom line is that I’d love for everyone involved in Christian ministry to spend some time marinating in this book. To not think through this issue strikes me as simply remiss. The whole premise of A Better Story is that this isn’t just something for youth workers or student workers to consider (although they certainly should); it is about the water we swim in and the air we breathe.

For that reason, I’d commend it to anyone who’d be willing to read it. I can’t imagine any Christian not getting something from this book. Certainly don’t be put off by the notion that this could be a complicated book. Although the nature of the subject matter requires some significant thought and engagement, Glynn wears his learning lightly. His tone is friendly and each chapter ends with a bullet point summary of its key ideas, allowing the reader to easily track the journey from start to finish.

And for all his perceptive cultural analysis, I think ultimately the book is so brilliant because Glynn has a real gifting to inspire. A Better Story is a book full of hope, ultimately rooted in a confidence that the Christian ‘story’ about sex is one that is neither something to be ashamed of, nor something that is meagre and small. And this humble confidence that the Christian ethic is ‘good news’ oozes from the pages. It’s a great tonic. Whether we’re single or married, the Bible portrays sexual desire as an “inbuilt homing instinct for the Divine, a navigation aid showing us the way home”. (And if that’s left you surprised, then even more reason to pick up a copy.) The point of the book is not to be a final word, but to stir and equip us all to be better at ‘telling this story’, and I think Glynn is going to achieve his aim. The story continues…

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You can pick up A Better Story from the publisher here.

Disclaimer: The publisher has sent me a free copy of this book, but I hope this is still a fair and honest review.

Life is often disappointing. And therefore disappointment can so easily be a feeling that comes to dominate our lives. That’s why I think it’s brilliant that pastor John Hindley has reflected on this issue, and how the Bible addresses it, and written a new book called Dealing with Disappointment – How to know joy when life doesn’t feel great. John has kindly taken some time out to answer a few questions on the blog about the issues covered by the book.

First-off John, some people might recognise your name as being the author of Serving without Sinking, which is arguably the best book written on how to play underwater tennis – sorry, lame joke. But tell us a bit about yourself, for those who haven’t got to know you.

I like the joke! It’s often referred to as Sinking without Serving, which is a whole different issue. As for me, I am a Yorkshireman originally but you wouldn’t know it from my accent. I grew up in a Christian home, moving around the country with my dad’s work as a bank manager. I would always have believed the facts of the gospel, but had no real faith in Christ growing up because I saw myself as good without him. I was a judgmental and hypocritical young man, quite like the older brother in Jesus’ parable in Luke chapter 15.

The Lord changed that while I was in my third year at university. I was in church, and the pastor preached a sermon on the death of Christ on the cross. The Spirit convicted me that I was a sinner, and for the first time I saw and felt the wonder of Christ dying in my place, carrying my sin, enduring the judgment that I finally saw I richly deserved to free me for himself. He saved me, twenty years ago now.

I am married to Flick, a delightful godly woman and a generous gift from my Father. We have three lovely girls, Daisy, Eliza and Sylvia who give me much laughter (and frustration!). I also get to serve as a pastor, which is a satisfying, exhausting and wonderful calling. Our church is called Broadgrace (www.broadgrace.org.uk), planted in 2010, and we meet in Coltishall in the Norfolk Broads. Being part of this church is also a blessing and gift to us.

On one level, Dealing with Disappointment sounds like a title born out of experience! Do you mind sharing a bit about what led you to put pen to paper with this particular book?

It is, but not that much of it is mine! My life has been remarkably easy and satisfying so far, although I think this helped me to understand the disappointment that often comes when we feel we have gained much of what the world can offer. Disappointment can come from a lack of something we desire (a promotion at work, for example) but it can also be the result of the emptiness when we find that the promotion didn’t give the satisfaction we hoped (and neither did buying our house, getting a new car, being married or having children).

The experience that led me to write the book was simply the levels of disappointment I saw around me. With people I know locally, in the church and outside, and friends and family more widely, I saw huge disappointment. It is probably a symptom of getting older (I turned 40 as I was writing the book) but I saw a growing sense of despair among lots of people. Not an acute suffering, but the cynicism and bitterness that comes when there is no hope.

Before Norfolk, we lived in Manchester and served in a church with lots of young people, students and young workers. For many there were good things to look ahead to, like marriage, work, getting a house, going on a foreign holiday. The world held out a lot of hope. But now I know a lot of people in their thirties and forties as well as older and younger. Among them I see little hope. These dreams have either failed to materialise or, worse, they have been achieved, but not given the peace they promised.

In the book you talk about being ‘rightly disappointed’, which might seem a strange phrase. What do you mean by that and why is it important?

This is important because we need to understand disappointment if we are to see beyond it. When I began writing, I assumed that disappointment might simply be a form of idolatry. I thought it would be along the lines of, ‘I am disappointed because I am not married, and marriage is where joy and satisfaction lie’. The problem with this simple analysis is that the Lord is disappointed, and he is not an idolater! In Matthew 23v37, Jesus laments, ‘Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing’.

Jesus feels disappointment as Jerusalem fails to submit to his kind desire to gather and care for her. Disappointment is a right response to life in a world that the Lord has subjected to frustration as a result of the sin of Adam (Romans 8v20; Genesis 3v18). This world is disappointing, and we should feel it as such. There is wrong disappointment, and over disappointment with right things. The importance of seeing that we should be disappointed (perhaps moreso than we are!) is that it helps us see how we should see disappointment in the wider picture of Christ’s kingdom, how we stop disappointment becoming overwhelming.

We do that by looking to the future, to the day Christ returns and ushers in the resurrection age, the new heavens and the new earth. Then there will be no disappointment, and the disappointments we have carried will be redeemed and will become part of the heights of joy that we feel as we see Jesus and feast with him. There is more to it than hope, but hope is the first step on the path away from bitter disappointment. However great, however real, even however right our disappointments, they will not be the end of the story. Christ will. He will come for us, he will raise us from the dead, he will wipe away our tears and he will never disappoint us. He has bought this for us on the cross, and he has bought us for himself. He cannot fail us. He cannot disappoint us.

By talking about disappointment, I think you put your finger on a live issue for many of us, and yet it’s not one we perhaps freely acknowledge. How do you think as Christians and churches we can change that?

It is hard to talk about disappointment. You can ask your small group to pray that you would get a job, but it feels selfish to ask them to pray that you would get promoted to a senior position. It feels churlish to say you find your work dull if you know there are others with harder jobs. Even more tricky is that most of our disappointments are with people. We are disappointed at times with our husband or wife, children or parents, friends or family, church or colleagues. How do we share these things?

It is a hard question, but we must answer it. We must strive to have church families where we can talk about these hard things, where we can be honest. It doesn’t mean airing every disappointment with everyone, but we must be truly known by all and fully known by some. As far as we know ourselves anyway! This is part of the gift of the church, and also a terrifying challenge. To be known is liberating, and terrifying!

Imagine a church where there was no bitterness, no cynicism. Imagine a love so great that it could bear being disappointed and still love those who let you down. Imagine a love so great that it could disappoint someone terribly and believe the forgiveness they offer. This is the church, and it is no figment of the imagination but ours to grasp and be, by the grace of Christ.

Obviously, it’s one thing for Christians to acknowledge disappointment. Has writing this book changed whether you see disappointment as a way to engage unbelievers and share the gospel with them?

It has been hugely important in my personal witness. Talking about disappointment has shown me how prevalent it is, just below the surface of so many lives. I now enter into conversations assuming friends and family are disappointed, and with confidence that Christ offers real hope in the face of it.

I was talking to a very honest man a couple of weeks ago, who thought that God simply wanted us to do our best, and that those who tried would go to a good place when they died. He was honest because he agreed with me when I said my problem was that I often didn’t try my best. When I then talked about the possibility of forgiveness and life with Christ eternally he simply said that forgiveness would be an incredible thing to have. He was disappointed with himself. He had done nothing unusually wicked but, like me, he knew he was not the man he ought to be or wanted to be. What hope it is to know that Christ has forgiven me the meanness that makes me enjoy seeing my wife hurt just because I think I’m right or want to exasperate my children so that I can feel righteous as I discipline them just because I have had a frustrating day.

I think that for sharing the gospel with my contemporaries, and probably with most people, assuming disappointment and leading with hope may well be a way of serving them by showing them just what Christ has done for us on the cross and given us in his resurrection.

John, thank you – this has been really thought-provoking stuff, so we really appreciate your time. Just to finish, you mention in the book that you’ve just turned 40, and obviously as a culture we often talk about mid-life crisis, or even quarter-life crises. What would you say to your 21-year old self in light of this issue?

I relied heavily on Solomon’s work in Ecclesiastes in writing the book, and I would encourage you to read it, as I am sure one of the reasons the Spirit wrote it was to help us understand disappointment and put our hope in Christ. My advice to my 21-year old self would be from chapter 12, verse 1:

‘Remember your Creator
in the days of your youth,
before the days of trouble come
and the years approach when you will say,
“I find no pleasure in them”’

We cannot avoid disappointment. Indeed, we should not seek to avoid it, as it is a right response to a broken world. The way to avoid it making us bitter or cynical, though, is to remember our creator. The heart of all Christianity is Christ. To live, to grow, to know peace, joy and hope is to know Christ. The more we see him, know him, follow him and delight in him, the more we will live in hope rather than bitterness of heart.

Remember your creator in the days of your youth, in the days of middle age, in the days of old age and in the day of death whenever it might come. For he has remembered you. He remembered you when you were dead in your trespasses and sins, he remembered you as he died your death and bore your sin. he remembered you when he called you out of darkness into the kingdom of light. He remembers you now and intercedes for you at the right hand of his Father. He remembers you, and he is coming back for you. He will not disappoint you, he will remember you, so remember him.

If hearing from John has whetted your appetite, I’d encourage you to pick up Dealing With Disappointment direct from the publisher, The Good Book Company, here. You can also follow John on Twitter.