history
Learning gentleness
Michael Haykin
In recent days, I have been again impressed with the significance of a name that was well-known among British evangelicals in the last decades of the long 18th century, but today is mostly forgotten, namely, that of Abraham Booth (1734–1806).
The son of a Nottinghamshire farmer, Booth became a stocking weaver in his teens. He had no formal schooling and was compelled to teach himself to read and to write. His early Christian experience was spent among the General, i.e. Arminian, Baptists, but by 1768 he had undergone a complete revolution in his soteriology and had become a Calvinist. Not long after this embrace of Calvinism he wrote The Reign of Grace, from Its Rise to Its Consummation (1768), which the 20th-century Scottish theologian John Murray regarded as ‘one of the most eloquent and moving expositions of the subject of divine grace in the English language’.
the ENd word
What are you hoping for?
Elizabeth McQuoid
As winter turns to spring, what are you hoping for? To get the vaccine, the end of restrictions, to get back to work, to take a holiday?
These glimpses of normality have been dangled in front of us for months like the proverbial carrot. The waiting has led to frustration, despair, and often a sense of hopelessness. But, perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps, among all the other lessons to learn from this pandemic, God wants to reorient our hope – for us to see the ultimate fruitlessness of earth-bound hope and long for something better.
pastoral care
Intimate prayer in a pandemic
Steve Midgley
Restriction is a key part of our new vocabulary. We are restricted in our activities, in our social gatherings, restricted in our travel, and even restricted in church.
There is so much that we cannot do, and the experience is tiring, irritating and not a little disorientating. We know there is ministry to be done, but we just can’t get to do it. We know there are friends to encourage, but we have such limited access to them. We know there is a Lord to be worshipped, but we can’t even sing His praises. It is all so frustrating. When good things are out of reach, frustration is appropriate.
Want spiritual resilience? Try this...
I live near a Christian retreat centre equipped with a labyrinth made of turf. A labyrinth is not a maze. In a maze there is more than one path so you can get lost or finish up in a dead-end. If you like, a maze can picture life without Christ, choosing your own way and living with the consequences.
By contrast a labyrinth has been used for centuries as a metaphor of the Christian way. There is only one path through, you make no choices about your route, you will reach your destination if you just keep going.