Numbers, numbers, numbers

Numbers... Currently doing the Wesley BRD and it is not easy getting through this book. As it was with Leviticus. Even one of my friends who likes to talk at length about the Bible, making numerous references to commentaries said he didn't really dwell too much on it and has read it only a few times.

He said this in response to a question from me about which parts of the Old Testament are still valid for us. Some clearly are no longer needed, such as sacrifice for atonement, but there are other issues such as dress, food, and even forgiveness of debts. He did however say that we should focus on the holiness of God, and also interpret the Old Testament's emphasis on holiness through  Christ. Not quite what I was getting at but a useful perspective nonetheless.

As I read this morning's reflections in the Telegram app, I was struck by how the writer focused exclusively on the Psalm that was in the reading, and ignored the OT segment, and realised that it happens quite often. Most of us struggle to understand the relevance of those books, or at least find it difficult to extract meaningful reflections for today's audience.

I suppose you can only say so much about how every one of us matters to God, just as every one of the Israelites mattered to him such that they are all mentioned in the book. But they are still useful reminders when we read them - or skim through heh...

My reflection this morning was about roles. The chapter was about how each tribe was given a specific role, clearly described in detail and it then struck me that this message strikes at the heart of modern society today. People are constantly bombarded with messages that they can be anything they want, even though this is clearly deluded - including gender. Just go with what you feel. Your feelings matter most, even at the exclusion of how others may feel.

And Christians are of course not immune from this. The reflection on Psalms was about how the writer felt threatened by hostility towards Christian beliefs and values (I'd say the ancient Jews had it worse in Roman times). Here I would say that the world responds as well to what we say about them. And if our words are not motivated by love, but rather by what sets us apart, it is understandable that those who are on the outside, also feel our hostility (in some cases expressed directly, in others implicitly) or perhaps a better way of putting it, our lack of love and compassion. And they respond in kind, with unkindness. And a vicious circle starts.

So many are clamouring for attention, to get the last definitive word in, that we lose our way. The only way to be heard in the cacophony is to become even more extreme in today's world. The quiet nuanced meditative argument is lost.

The book of Numbers tells us not to seek our own glory, but to glorify Him with whatever role we are given, no matter how 'small' or 'insignificant' it may seem. Why did God have to do this? Because of what we are. We are sinful creatures who want to dominate, to make more of ourselves than we are, to deserve better than what we have, to want more than what we are allocated. Some in the community would no doubt have challenged Moses' authority, if not openly then at least in their hearts. Some would say they played greater roles in the Exodus, and deserved more than just looking after the tabernacle.

God makes it clear. He is God, and all are to serve Him, not themselves. All will be given specific roles, and no nonsense about how they may FEEL about the role assigned.

Returning to the fold

This weekend in May was different. I did not play golf on Sunday and decided to go to church on my own. I haven't done that in a long time. At least not in the UK since the pandemic. Before I would go to Methodist Central Hall in Westminster, more out of a ritual if I were honest, than any real longing for fellowship because there wasn't any there.

Initially I went to Methodist Central because not going felt strange. Church had become such a part of my life that I felt something missing if I didn't go. And being alone for the most part, it was a comforting habit to have a routine. But as the weeks went by, I just didn't feel any welcome - I am sure people would have recognised me as a regular by then (7-8 months) but no one ever really came forward to speak to me, to find out where I was from, and so on.  But I still went until covid brought it to an end.

And of course covid brought something of a good change in that services went online and I could connect back to Wesley again. I had been thinking of going back to Methodist Central however in recent months - going home periodically and being able to attend church in person made me realise I still preferred to go in person.

It was great that Mummy and I went to St Helen's in Bishopsgate (thanks Ethan!) because it was like finding a spiritual home away from home. The first time we stepped in, we were welcomed by Alex, a young man from Hong Kong. He didn't know us but took the time to come and speak with us. That is fellowship at its best, something that not even Wesley does very well. Kathryn, the only usher that spoke to us regularly, did so because she was a colleague. Other ushers would smile and greet us, but never struck up a conversation.

We had stopped going to Wesley years ago because no one came to speak to us and we slowly drifted away. We weren't in a small group and felt no connection.

Such connections are powerful. You yearn for it when you don't have it, and it makes you want to go back. Each time you go, more connections are formed, even if only transient, lasting for those few minutes of conversation before the service starts. And they give you the hope for more in the future. And I have not been disappointed here. Every time I've been back to St Helen's, I've had these conversations with total strangers.

You would know I am not the most social of creatures - I tend to prefer to listen, and am not likely to be the one to strike up a conversation with a stranger. And yet I have been moved to do this. It's a bit like that popular slogan - Be The Change. You know? Don't just complain about it. Do something. It seems to me like there's a powerful spirit at work here in this church - the people who spoke to us weren't even ushers.

And that made me wonder about the ushers at Wesley. Perhaps it's a question of how their roles are defined for them (or maybe how they choose to do so themselves). They greet people, hand out the order of service, and direct people to where the empty seats are. I wonder though, are they missing the big picture? What should be their real or primary role?

On a related note, attending service again made me restart the Wesley Bible Reading Drive. And maybe, just maybe, going to church again reminded me to be a little less self-centred, and to pay attention to others around me. Being too self-absorbed isn't helpful. I had been feeling a little lost, a little depressed again. One of the key issues of the world today is the constant harping on how wonderful your life can and should be. We ignore how wonderful it already is, how blessed we are. Being reminded of how we should love others, brought me out of my funk.

One day while walking along Rochester Row, I tied the shoelace of an old lady - I think she was a bit surprised when I stopped her and told her that her laces were untied. I think she said she was sure she had tied them before she left home. She looked further surprised when I asked if I could tie them for her. It may not seem like something you would think twice of doing, but for me I have always been more wary of negative reactions than actually about helping people.

I was liberated! On the day I went to St Helen's alone, I took the Tube home from Monument station. I went to the platform and saw a strapping young Caucasian man (real bodybuilder type) with two large suitcases, looking at his phone, looking round the platform and then back to the phone. I sensed he was not sure which train he should be taking but did not do anything.

Why? Sometimes I overthink it. There was a similar incident once at St James station when a young Chinese woman walked up and down the platform, also with a phone in her hand. She glanced at me a few times as she passed. I sensed she needed help but I did not volunteer to do so. She probably saw a Chinese face, felt that it would be less intimidating to talk to me than another person. so she finally approached me for help. I tried but I was not very sure and felt bad for not being able to sort out her problem. This is a well known behaviorial issue because people often feel others are more qualified to assist.

But back to this young man. I was still thinking about whether I should approach him, or maybe I should mind my own business. My train came, and I was going to board it but somehow I just couldn't leave without at least trying. So I went to him and asked if he needed help. We managed to get him sorted out and he was very grateful and said something to the effect that there should be more people like me, who saw/sensed that he had needed help and came forward. It was a powerful moment for me, not only because he appreciated my help, but more so the struggle in me to even offer the help. It made me realise how far I am from the command to love others.

And that's the reality isn't it? This is such an easy example and yet I had to will myself to do it. What more if someone really needs our help? What if someone needed our last dollar? A place to stay for the night?

When I went to M&S at Victoria after getting off the train, I saw a short Chinese old lady struggling to get hold of a pack of vegetables from the top shelf - typically, she didn't want the pack at the front but was trying to get one of those in the back :). I reached out and got it for her and she smiled and gave me a friendly tap on the arm. And so this was another lesson. Sometimes if we are not too caught up in our own world, if we are observant, if we are not too worried about what others might think (what's the worst that could happen if our help isn't needed or appreciated?), we see all the wonderful opportunities to show love for others. (I could not help but think of Groundhog Day, when Bill Murray finally realises that he cannot win the love of Andie McDowell by manipulating her - and because it was meaningless to do so. And so he ends up spending his day(s) trying to do the most good he can, even though he is cursed to repeat the day again the next morning. It is in essence, the most Biblical reference in the movie, because he is saved when he finally puts the love of his fellow men above everything else.)

(The sermon that day was Matthew 15:21-28 The Faith of a Canaanite Woman. It was really insightful for me as that was a passage I had had difficulties with in the past. Why were those discouraging words said to her? Sometimes, the situation has to evolve or unfold, for a greater truth to emerge. A Gentile, told that she was not his intended audience, persisted with her great faith (confirmed by Jesus) and give us hope that He loves all who worship him.)

P.S. The struggle to love others is real. Once I encountered someone in church, in the toilet. This person had sat in my car before, we've had conversations before, but on this day, I was invisible. I even said "hello" but there was no acknowledgement. I felt sad, at first for myself because I wondered how I had become a non-entity to him. But after my reflections above, I felt sad for him, a person who could wax lyrical on the Bible but yet struggled to show love or extend a hand of fellowship. In church.