If trials are how God transforms us, then telling each other ‘You Got This’ isn’t enough to get through the year ahead.

Life Goals

As we stumble through these early weeks of the new year, I wonder if you’ve had a chance to consider what would count as a successful 2021 for you?

As Christians, we’d probably recognise there’s a number of ‘unhealthy’ answers to that question: getting rich; winning the plaudits of my peers; sculpting my body to resemble the images that bombard me online.

Whilst we might find ourselves tempted by the allure of those answers now and again, we’re likely to agree that they’re not what a Christian should be setting their heart on.

But what if we put the question in more Christian terms: ‘What would it look like to end the year more spiritually mature?’

How would we answer that?

And this is where I’ve been pondering whether even our ‘Christian’ answers may still reveal somethings gone amiss. 

Welcome to the Real World

I’m quickly learning to love the book of James in these disorientating times. It’s a part of the Bible often praised for being delightfully practical, offering an everyday faith.

But more than that, it’s also a portion of Scripture that is absolutely realistic about life. Take how James begins:

‘Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.’ (James 1:2-3)

Right from his opening gambit, James doesn’t hold back that life is full of hard things. Many kinds of hard things in fact. There’s no Instagram filter or rose tinted glasses here.

But to speak of joy alongside trials might seem a bit of stretch to our ears. How does one even consider the idea of rejoicing in the midst of pain?

The Posture of Perseverance

And even when we consider James’ rationale, noting that joy lies in trials producing perseverance (1:3), we might still raise an eyebrow. 

After all, in the midst of hard things, perseverance can seem like a pipe dream. Surely times of suffering are when we feel least like keeping going? Maybe you feel that right now? You’re hanging on with your fingernails here!

But maybe that phrase reveals the crux of the matter: after all, who are we hanging onto in such times? 

What if spiritual perseverance is less about the internal ability to resolutely persist come what may, but rather about having such an awareness of our weakness that we have ‘come to the end of ourselves’ and have thrown ourselves on something external to ourselves: God. 

To put it another way, as we feel weak and cling to the Lord, this is actually what it means to be steadfast. This is the posture of perseverance.

We learn to lean.

The Surprising Shape of True Maturity

Often we act like growing as a Christian means having it all together. But James connects this perseverance to the greater work of how God is shaping us:

‘Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.’ (1:4)

In other words, true Christian maturity is not about having it all together, but rather realising that we don’t – but knowing where to turn in the midst of that.

Of course in many areas of life maturity looks like becoming more independent – think of the small child walking without a hand to hold, or the employee no longer needing to be spoon-fed their tasks. But I think James would say that actually Christian maturity means becoming more dependent.

Yes, we want disciples of Jesus to have their own renewed minds, reflecting on their own circumstances and desires and days through the lens of the gospel. But let’s not kid ourselves into thinking that the cry of our self-determined age – ‘You got this!’ – is a vaguely Christian exhortation. 

Leaning into the Future with God

So as we scan the horizon for what 2021 may hold – for ourselves, for our churches, for the Church in this disorientating season – know that there’s few greater things that God could do for us than teach us to lean on him through hard times. 

Christian growth does not work like a board game, where if we land on the right space we can skip ahead to the finish. As we say in the UK, we can’t avoid the ‘hard yards’. 

In other words, James is adamant that we can’t get to Christian maturity without perseverance. And we won’t discover perseverance without trial. Learning to lean is the Christian life.

The Best Place To Be

But if we under any doubts about whether it’s worth it, just a few sentences later James crystallises where such leaning will lead us to: ‘Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.’ (1:12)

Wherever this year takes us, leaning on the Lord is the best place to be, because ultimately it’ll get us to the best place we can ever be: receiving the crown of life from the God we love.

Yes, there will be things we’ll face this year that we’d never have chosen to face.

But despite how hard those times may be, we can be confident that God is forming us through them as we learn to lean upon him.

He got this. And we can consider that pure joy.

No surprises if we feel rather glad to see the back of last year. 2020’s been plenty. Disorientating. Hard. Relentless. Sure, there have been unexpected blessings to give thanks for, but we grieve the life and lives that have been lost.

And is it me, or does the fact that it’s been such a tough year only increase the pressure to make the next 365 days altogether different? Of course, we all welcome a fresh start. And there’s some great gags about lowering our expectations for 2021. Apparently there’s some great odds for an alien invasion and gravity turning itself off…

But the reality is I’ve often found New Years Day slightly overwhelming. So much positivity and hype, yet part of me wakes up on 1/1 feeling unsure. Do you know that feeling when you’ve planned some epic hike, pulled into the car park, put on your boots & rucksack, and then find yourself looking up… I can just about glimpse parts of a path in the distance, leading over towering craggy peaks and into long tiring valleys. A new year?  I’m not even sure I’ve caught my breath from the last one.

But where is our Hope going forward? The dawning of 2021? The turn of a calendar? The prospect of a ‘new me’? I love a good sunrise and I’d love it to be that simple. But despite the Counting Crows song, rolling a dice and hoping the next twelve months will be ‘better than the last’ seems a recipe for disappointment.

So here’s a thought. At the start of the Christmas story, a bloke called Zechariah says that, ‘Because of God’s merciful compassion, the dawn from on high will visit us to shine on those who live in darkness and the shadow of death and to guide our feet into the way of peace‘ (Luke 1:78-79). In other words, we want a fresh start, a new year, but God gives us Jesus. As Eric Geiger puts it, ‘He is our dawn‘.

What will breathe life into this weak and weary heart? The warming rays of the love of a Saviour who goes before me, up every steep mountain and through every dark winding valley. And my weakness and weariness are not limiting factors but the terms of the deal, as he works in me to make much of His grace. Indeed, lining up behind him, little by little, actually I find begin to change. My drooping hands and buckling knees are lifted by the One who pioneered a way through this creaking and often cruel world. All the way to the darkness of a cross and the dawn of an empty tomb. Yes, he rallies my faint & fearing heart, giving me a selfless confidence as I stare into the unknowns of 2021.

More than self-confidence, ambition, and a fresh diary, what I need is to stick close to Jesus. So I join his dawn chorus: ‘His love endures forever‘. Yes, he is strong and kind.

Preparing for Christmas with Ruth

I like to think of the Old Testament book of Ruth as ‘the story behind the Christmas story’…

If we’re half familiar with this little book, we’ll know that it culminates in the arrival of a baby, also born in Bethlehem, and who incredibly ends up being the great, great, great (add a few more!) grand-father of Jesus.

But there’s so much more to Ruth than its famous ending. So much more that will help us prepare for Christmas.

For a start, it all begins with famine.

The Cupboards Are Bare

Now, I know that’s a bit of a gear-change at this time of year.

We tend to think of Christmas as a time of feasting: platefuls of mince pies, chocolate stashed in every room of the house, marzipan-lined cake, and turkey with all the trimmings (don’t tell me it’s an overrated bird – haters gonna hate…).

And so the opening verse of Ruth can feel like a contrast: ‘…there was a famine in the land.’ (1:1)

But if we linger here, we’ll see that this prelude has an important, and even refreshing, word for us today.

The ‘land’ here refers to ‘the promised land’, Israel, a haven of blessing, provision and security that God had promised to Abraham and his descendants. It was the place into which God’s people had finally staggered during the book of Joshua, but only after forty years of wandering in the desert, a punishment for their disobedience.

So if this was meant to be a land of blessing, why on earth was there a famine?

Great question.

Warning Lights

We need to read between the lines here. We’ve already been told that Ruth is set in the time ‘when the Judges ruled’ (1:1). As a quick glance at the final verse in Judges will indicate (21:25), this was short-hand for God’s people being on a downward spiral of disobedience and idolatry.

But we also need to know that in the Old Testament, a famine represented something very specific.

When God outlined the nature of his covenant relationship with his people, he gave them the Old Testament law to set out what that relationship looked like. Within the law were clear consequences if God’s people disobeyed him and turned after false gods. Crucially for us here, one of these consequences was famine (take a look at Deuteronomy 28:15-29 to see this explicitly).

In other words, God’s people experiencing national widespread hunger was like a warning light flashing on the dashboard. It was a visible sign alerting God’s people to the reality that all was not well with their relationship with God.

And like all warning lights, it was meant to evoke a response…

Meet the Family?

Now, as we’re introduced to the initial characters, it’s notable that the very first thing we’re told about this family is not their names or characters or occupations, but rather where they’re from and where they go. In other words, we’re told their response to the famine. And we’re meant to see it’s not a particularly wise response.

Bethlehem was a small town within Judah, the promised land. In fact its name literally meant ‘house of bread’. But Moab on the other hand was one of the enemies of God’s people. We might rush past these place names as if they were irrelevant details, but the very first readers of Ruth would have raised their eyebrows at this family’s choice of destination: ‘You’re going where?! Moab?!’

And just to emphasise their decision, the narrator repeats it in verse 3, sandwiching it around the family’s names: ‘They were Ephrathites from Bethlehem, Judah. And they went to Moab and lived there.’ (1:3)

Of course, we might think, ‘But aren’t they just doing what any reasonable people would have done in the face of famine?’

But, remember, this wasn’t any normal famine. It was a God-given warning light indicating that Israel needed to turn back to him in confession and repentance. It certainly wasn’t an invitation to flee further away.

Denial Strategies

But isn’t that what we do? When faced with the cold reality of our brokenness and corruption, it’s all too easy to turn away. To escape, rather than face the truth.

The narrator doesn’t dwell for long on the folly of this one family’s decision, although as we’ll see if we read to 1:5, it hardly leads to life-giving blessing. Given the context of Judges, you could say that Elimelek and Naomi’s move was just one lived-out example of a whole nation’s systemic denial of their real problem: a broken relationship with God and their desperate need for forgiveness.

All this might not seem very ‘Christmassy’, but that’s exactly why Christians have traditionally valued the period of Advent.

Remember, Christmas was the twelve days of celebration that began on December 25^th – hence the song! In contrast, Advent is about preparing for Christmas by facing up to the darkness. The darkness of a broken world and the desperate news that without Jesus all cannot be well with our relationship with God.

Escaping Advent

Of course, we don’t need to be legalistic about this. Marking Advent isn’t in the Bible. But it is biblical to face reality and see our personal and corporate need for a Saviour.

So what if the way that our culture rushes past Advent, or at least is so eager to bring Christmas in early, is symptomatic of trying to escape the reality of our brokenness? We turn away, rather than face the truth.

Tish Harrison Warren speaks of this ‘unhealthy escapism’, where we ‘run at breathless pace from sugar-laced celebration to celebration’:

“We suffer from a collective consumerist mania that demands we remain optimistic, shiny, happy and having fun, fun, fun.

But life isn’t a Disney Cruise. The tyranny of relentless mandatory celebration leaves us exhausted and often, ironically, feeling emptier. Many of us suffer from “holiday blues,” and I wonder whether this phenomenon is made worse by the incessant demand for cheer — the collective lie that through enough work and positivity, we can perfect our lives and our world.”

Look Hard at the Cracks

But who can do that for long? In a world that aches with sin, pretending everything is ‘endless cheer’ is both deceptive and exhausting.

As Warren puts it, instead we need the opportunity to ‘look long and hard at what is cracked and fractured in our world and in our lives.’

Things aren’t the way they’re supposed to be. The very fact that there was a famine in the ‘house of bread’ should have been a clear wake-up call to this truth.

And so Advent presents us with a choice: will we face up to that reality, or will we try and escape past it?

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Why not take some time to reflect upon the ways you feel the world’s brokenness today. Acknowledge that things aren’t as they should be. This might be at a global, national and personal level.

Confess your own sin as part of this – are there ways in which you’re seeking to ‘escape’ from this truth? 

Give thanks that the Bible faces the reality of an aching world head-on, rather than pretending ‘all is fine’. How could this inspire conversations you have today? 

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This post was adapted from a daily email Bible reflection for Advent from the book of Ruth, ‘Finding Hope under Bethlehem Skies’. You can sign up for these here. Each reflection will also include links to previous reflections.