The story of Gideon is part of nearly every Sunday School curriculum. Who doesn’t love the story of how Gideon’s big army became a small group of 300 men who, by God’s power, overcame Israel’s enemies, the Midianites? It’s a story that sparks our imagination.

Less known is the part of the story where Gideon chops down the altar that was dedicated to Baal and builds an altar to the Lord. This was a neighbourhood altar, and he was afraid of his neighbours’ negative reaction, so instead of making the destruction of Baal’s altar a public spectacle, he and a few of his men did the job at night. When morning came, Baal’s altar was gone and the remnants of Gideon’s sacrifice to the Lord remained on the new altar.

When the people woke up in the morning, they were rather upset that their centre of worship had been torn down and a new one was standing in its place. They did a little investigating and discovered quite quickly that it was Gideon who had destroyed their community altar, and they demanded that Gideon’s father, Joash, hand him over so that they could punish him. Joash refused, saying instead that if they really believed that Baal was the most powerful god, then Baal could defend himself. This made quite a bit of sense, and the townspeople left Gideon alone. They also gave him a nickname, Jerub-Baal, which means “let Baal contend.” If anything happened to Gideon, they could say that Baal had punished Gideon for his sacrilegious act. We know the rest of the story: Gideon, aka Jerub-Baal, went on to defeat Israel’s enemies because the Lord was on his side, and he died an old man. Baal never did anything to Gideon, proving to his worshippers that he was a very weak god, not truly worthy of the worship or even the attention of anyone.

In sharp contrast the Lord could take care of himself. Or could he? We are told that the Midianites had overrun the land of Israel, forcing the Israelites to become refugees from their own homes to live in caves and makeshift shelters. They cried out to the Lord for help, and God raised up Gideon to provide that help. Gideon did accuse God of not keeping his promise to protect his people from their enemies, but he was not justified in so saying. God had sent a prophet to tell the people that the reason they were suffering was because they had abandoned him, and because they had abandoned him, he had no obligation to protect them. Nevertheless, he would provide a leader (called a judge in Judges) to lead them to victory over their enemies.

But can the Lord take care of himself, or does he need people to help him out? Gideon wasn’t sure. It sounded like the Lord needed the help of people to rid the land of the Midianites, and Gideon wanted to confirm that the Lord was asking for his help. Three times over he asked for a sign to confirm that the Lord truly had called him to fight the Midianites, and three times the Lord provided a sign, first by consuming a meal Gideon had offered with fire and second and third by first making a fleece wet and then keeping it dry as it lay on the ground through the night. Gideon was not a man of great faith, and he wanted to be sure that he could take God at his word. God accommodated him by giving him his signs.

And, to prove that he (God, not Gideon) was going to contend with the Midianites, he had Gideon reduce his army from 32,000 men to a mere 300. Against impossible odds, the Israelites defeated the Midianites so thoroughly that they never bothered the Israelites again. (Recall that the Midianites had been the first army to attack Israel after they were freed from Egypt, and they continued to find ways to destroy God’s people.) The Midianites had disrespected the Lord, and the Lord dealt with them. God’s action stands in striking contrast to Baal’s inaction, proving that the Lord truly is God.

The Lord can take care of himself, and he does. In fact, it is quite clear that he doesn’t need us to fight his battles. The odds were so stacked against Gideon and his 300 men that it is foolish to think that they had any real part in winning the battle. Without a doubt, the battle belonged to the Lord.

Although the Old Testament there are many other examples of how God contended for himself, often by using his people, but nearly always in situations where his people could never have been victorious had he not been doing the actual work. This is most certainly true in Jesus Christ who should not have been victorious but yet was. As a man he would have been defeated, but as God he won the victory over the most powerful of enemies, one who has overrun the world, the devil himself. God defended himself and provided salvation for his people.

Since Jesus ascended into heaven left behind his church, empowered by the Holy Spirit, to do his work of building his kingdom. Another way of saying, “building the kingdom,” would be to say, “showing God to be victorious.” In the past (and perhaps also in the present), the church has attempted to defend God’s honour by taking up sword and spear. We need only look to the ill-conceived crusades of 1000 years ago as an example in which Europeans attempted to free Jerusalem from the “infidels” and defend God’s honour. The crusades were an unmitigated disaster and remain a blight on Christianity and, by extension, on Jesus himself. Perhaps Christian leaders were calling the church to fight in the same way as was done in the Old Testament. It is always dangerous, however, to take Old Testament examples of Israel and use them as instruction for how we ought to act today.

How does the church respond to this world being overrun by evil and sin? It lets God contend with those who disrespect him and even seek to overthrow him by tearing down his altars through the marginalization and persecution of the gospel. That doesn’t mean we don’t have a task, but our task is not to defend God. Perhaps the song, “Lead On, O King Eternal,” which has seemingly military overtones captures well our role: “For now with swords’ loud clashing or roll of stirring drums, but with deeds of love and mercy, the heavenly Kingdom comes.” We don’t have to defend God, for God will defend himself, quite capably, in fact. It seems impossible that by being kind and simply caring for people we will win any victories. And it is impossible. But, of course, it is not up to us to win victories. We are simply called to be faithful to the calling Jesus has placed on our lives and trust that he will contend for himself. And he will. And he does. By his grace.

The English word, “martyr,” comes directly from the Greek word, and when it is found in the Greek, it usually is translated as “witness.” In secular usage Greek speaking people in biblical times would refer to someone who gave evidence in a court room as a martyr. Someone who witnessed the signature of a legal document would be named a martyr. A martyr was normally a person, but sometimes a written historical account could also be called a martyr. A martyr was anyone or anything who witnessed something and could give testimony to others about the authenticity of what they had observed. A martyr was one who knew the truth and testified to that truth. It is appropriate, then, that the Greek word, “martyr,” is translated to the English as “witness.”

While Greek speaking people still use the word, “martyr,” to refer to a witness to the authenticity of an event, the word in English has taken on a very specific meaning. Martyrs are those who have suffered death because they refuse to renounce their faith. Thus, in the common English usage of the word, all Christian martyrs are dead because they remained faithful to Jesus Christ even when they knew they would die for their faithfulness.

From time to time, I have read the stories of martyrs, and I wonder what I would do in a similar situation. If it were demanded of me that I renounce Jesus or be killed, how would I respond? I would hope that I would respond by being faithfully stalwart to the end, and that is certainly a goal I would set for myself, but I don’t know if I would be able to reach that goal. We can read many stories of those who died for their faith, but there are also many stories of how now long-forgotten people who renounced Jesus in the face of persecution and did not remain faithful. I would not want to be among them, but I can’t make any guarantees that I would not. Perhaps like many of you, I have reflected on how I would respond if it became dangerous to be a follower of Jesus Christ.

Perhaps there is a way that we can practice becoming a martyr, should that need arise. We reserve the term, “martyr,” for those who have given their life because they would not renounce Jesus, but we can also use the broader sense of the word to think about someone witnessing to the authenticity of Jesus even while they are alive. In the broader sense of the word, a martyr is not only one who dies for Jesus; a martyr can also be one who lives for Jesus. And this, perhaps, is the way we can practice for becoming someone who dies for Jesus.

I suspect that if we would go back into history and examine the lives of those who died for their faith, we would discover that those great heroes of the faith also lived faithfully for Jesus. In other words, they practiced for their martyrdom by being faithful to Jesus when not confronted with their own deaths. It would be harder to study the lives of those who did renounce Jesus in the face of persecution, for their stories are not often told, but I would suspect that we would discover that they denied Jesus when facing death because they were also not faithful to Jesus when living their lives. So, if I really want to know if I would die for Jesus, I must ask myself how willing I am to live for Jesus. Living faithfully for Jesus would make dying for Jesus more likely.

There is another facet to this whole discussion that we must not forget. Often, we make martyrs (those who died for Jesus) into heroes, elevating them above the rest of us. Without a doubt their stories need to be told, but I suspect that most martyrs would not see themselves as heroes. I had lunch with a man once who nearly died for his faith. Living in a place where being a Christian was allowed but witnessing for Jesus was not, this man had been speaking to others about God’s grace in Jesus Christ. For his witness, he was arrested and after a short trial, was sentenced to death by having his head chopped off with a sword. On the fateful day, he was taken into the courtyard, and the executioner made himself ready. In the minutes before he was executed, he asked to pray, and he prayed for those who were going to take his life. What happened next, this man does not fully understand, but his execution was delayed, and he was released from prison a few days later. As he told the story, the rest of us were amazed, but he did not see himself as a hero. He was only being faithful, for that was all that was being asked of him.

When he gave his testimony and told his story, what became clear was that he not only was willing to die for Jesus, but he was also eager to live for Jesus. I met this man in seminary, and I know that after his studies he returned to his country, but what happened after that, I do not know. I suspect that he continued to witness to those around him of God’s grace in Jesus, and he may have faced the executioner’s sword once again. I do not know, but this I do know: for him Jesus was the one who should receive the glory. In his mind, Jesus was the hero, for it was Jesus who had brought salvation to this world by giving his life for us.

I do wonder if I would be a martyr, giving my life for Jesus, or if I would be ranked among the cowards. I also know that my chances of being a martyr increase, not as I fortify myself and make myself strong but as I humbly submit to Jesus Christ and live for him. In living for him, I also can practice for the event of dying for him, if that should come. I imagine that if we live for the Lord, we won’t find dying for him such a bit stretch. Living as a martyr (witness) should make it possible for one to die as a martyr. If, however, if we don’t live for him, dying for him might well be beyond us should that need ever arise. So, like you, I need to continue to practice for martyrdom, for, while it may never happen, I need to be prepared for it. The only way to prepare is to live humbly and obediently for the Lord Jesus Christ, witnessing to his death for us in our lives so that we can witness to his grace in our deaths.

Whether or not whipping boys really existed is up for debate, although there are several recorded incidents where whipping boys may have been part of a royal household. The expression, “whipping boy,” has this back story: princes did not go the regular school, but, rather, were educated in their homes by private tutors. As we can imagine the little princes were not always angels, and the tutor might be required to exercise a little discipline, mostly in the form of corporal punishment, a slap or spanking or, as was commonly practiced, a whipping with a willow branch or some equivalent instrument. Being that his prodigy was of royal lineage and from a family of significant power, the tutor might be hesitant to administer the appropriate punishment. The story goes that the tutor ask that young boys of the prince’s age be invited to join in the classroom and befriend him. If the prince did something wrong or did not apply himself to his studies, instead of punishing the prince himself, the tutor would administer a whipping to one of the friends. Hopefully, in seeing his friend suffer, the prince would realize the error of his ways and learn to behave. The unfortunate friend was called the “whipping boy.” Again, it is uncertain how common this practice was, although there are records of others being punished by proxy in place of the prince, including incidents in France, England, and China.

I’m sure I am not alone when I think about how this system could break down. What if the prince is an entitled little imp and revels in the pain of others? Pity his “friends,” for they would receive multiple beatings. Or what if the prince is a bit of a loner and has not become close to his chosen friends? The beating would not arouse the appropriate emotional response in the prince. What if the prince hated school and didn’t apply himself? The whipping boys would become quite familiar with the willow switch.

For the system to work (and perhaps the reason that it wasn’t used all that often was because it didn’t work) a couple of factors had to be in play: the prince must be of the compassionate sort, and he would have to have cared for his friends. If the prince was not, the whole system would fail, and the whipping boys, although they would have received a privileged education, would not have appreciated the role assigned to them.

We have adopted the term, “whipping boy,” often to refer to someone who is punished for something they did not do. or, sometimes, we use it to refer to someone who is the constant object of bullying in the school yard even though they have done nothing to invite the abuse. To be a whipping boy is to receive undeserved punishment. I wonder if there were any boys who welcomed the invitation to become friends of the prince where whipping boys were employed to discipline the prince.

Some have compared Jesus to a whipping boy. He acts in proxy for us when he takes the punishment of the cross. But to what effect? Can Jesus be compared to a whipping boy? It is appropriate to think of him in this way?

Remember the purpose of the beating: it was to move the prince to behave. In the 2004 movie, The Passion of the Christ, the beating of Jesus lasts for a long time. People complained about the gruesomeness of the scene, but it did evoke a visceral (very physical) response. Many were horrified by the depravity of humanity that allowed some to so cruelly torture another human being. I don’t recall if the movie stated either implicitly or explicitly that Jesus was suffering for our sins, but even if it did, would it move anyone to better behaviour? Does Jesus’ suffering result in better behaviour on our behalf? Is Jesus’ suffering meant to cause us to behave better?

Perhaps some who watched the movie were moved to say, “He suffered for me, so I should behave better.” But is that why Jesus suffered on our behalf? Did he suffer the beatings and the crucifixion so that we would be moved to compassion and behave better? I think that that misses the whole point of Jesus’ suffering and death.

Jesus was not our whipping boy. True, he stood in our place and bore our sins, but he didn’t do that so we, out of compassion, would work a little harder at avoiding sin. Jesus’ death was much greater than that, for in his death, he actually took away our sin. Not only did he take the punishment that we deserve, he also took away God’s memory of our sin, at least figuratively speaking. God doesn’t remember our sins anymore, meaning that he will never go back to them and remind us of them again. When forgiven, they are also forgotten.

Watching the beating, as it was depicted in the movie, might give us pause and make us consider what we do. But that was not the goal of Jesus’ death. His goal was to free us from our sin, not to make us behave more appropriately. He did not come to this world to become our whipping boy, suffering so that we could behave. He came to this earth to bring forgiveness.

One of the hallmarks of the Reformed tradition is that our good behaviour is not an act of contrition (sorry, Jesus, that we caused your suffering and we won’t do it again), but as an act of gratitude (thank you for taking my sin and its punishment on yourself). Jesus did not suffer and die so that we would learn to behave. He suffered and died so that would be forgiven and as a response to that forgiveness, we would gratefully serve him.

I don’t think Jesus could be called a whipping boy, although some have done so. He didn’t suffer to move us to better behaviour. He suffered so that we could be forgiven, and, hopefully, that may move us toward gratitude so that we serve and obey him. It is because we are forgiven that we are moved to good behaviour, and forgiveness is a much more powerful motivator than watching someone suffer on our behalf.

In the past few months I have met people who have come to Canada from a number of places in the world. A man from Pakistan prepared and sold me my lunch. Someone from the Philippines tried to sell me a vehicle. I have been spending some time mudding drywall with a man from Ukraine. I bought some plywood from a man whose roots are in the Netherlands. I enjoy talking with people where they come from, for they often have interesting stories about what brought them to Canada.

Often, when we talk about places of origin, we refer to them as our being the place where we are rooted. In that case, my roots are in the Netherlands, and I could also say that they are in Ontario. Our roots tell us and others where we come from, or so we say.

But, as we know, roots do not actually speak of our origins. A seed may be the origin of a plant, but the roots rarely are. Roots are as much part of the plant as is the stem and the flower and the fruit. For a plant, roots gather nourishment and stability for the plant, but, technically speaking, they do not reveal our origins, even though we use the word in that way.

If we use that definition, I would have to say that my roots are in Alberta. My life is here, and the nourishment and stability for my life are here, not in Ontario or Holland. I am rooted in Alberta, even if I am a transplant. As a transplanted person, my roots may not be firmly rooted in Alberta, but I suspect that will change the longer I am here. In time I might even be considered an Albertan, although considering how it seems that some Albertans are slow to accept people “from away,” I might not live long enough for that to happen. (The people of the Maritime provinces are equally slow in their acceptance of “come-from-aways,” as they call transplants.)

Instead of using the term “roots” to talk about our origins, it might be more helpful to use the term “origin” for that purpose and instead use the term, “root,” to talk about that which gathers nourishment and provides stability. Thinking of things that way helps us understand what Paul means when we ought to be rooted in Christ (Colossians 2:7). Instead of thinking of Jesus Christ as being the one who originates us (although he does that as well), we are encouraged to think of Jesus being the one who provides us with nourishment and stability that we need to live. He is the soil that wraps around our roots and provides us what we need for all of life.

When we think of our roots in that way, we are encouraged to consider what it is that we are rooted in. We are presented with many different options as to where we may want to sink our roots, and we want to look for the best one. As any farmer knows, the soil that surrounds the roots must be fertile, and it must be of the right texture to grasp hold of the roots so that the plant does not fall over. Both of these are essential if a plant is going to grow and thrive and produce a crop.

Poor soil will not produce healthy plants. Most often we think of physical nutrients, things like money and health and housing and clothes, and most of us perceive that we get these through our own efforts, by working hard so that we can have what we need to live. Of course, it is somewhat of an illusion to think that what we have comes from our own efforts. In reality, if God, through Christ, is the soil in which we are rooted, he is the one who supplies us with health so that we can work, with stores so that we can buy food, and an appropriate supply system so that the shelves of our stores remained stocked. We are beneficiaries of these important things, and we cannot say that we have obtained them ourselves. Christ makes our blessings available to us, and the greatest blessing, of course, is our salvation. If he did not make that available to us, we would remain spiritually dead. God is the source of all that we need for life (nutrients), both physically and spiritually, and we cannot live without him. Jesus Christ is the soil which supplies nutrients both for our physical and spiritual lives.

The soil supplies nutrients for the roots, but it also gives stability to the plant. Anyone who has pulled weeds from their garden in the summer time knows how difficult it is to dislodge the roots. The soil grabs onto the roots and it won’t let them go. From time to time, however the soil does not do its job. A tree may appear to be thriving in the soil, but its stability and longevity is nothing but an illusion, for when a high wind blows against it, its roots dislodge and it topples over and dies. We might compare the wind to the trials of life. Unless our roots are held tight by something, there will come a time when we will not be able to withstand the pressure. Some things in life might topple us over: a broken relationship, the diagnosis of cancer, the death of a loved one, and certainly death itself is impossible to withstand. Unless something is holding our roots tightly, we will not survive the storm.

Thus, I am obligated to ask, “Where are my roots?” I am not rooted in Ontario or the Netherlands although I could say that those places are my origins. I should not even be rooted in Alberta as the place which keeps me alive and stable. Only Christ truly supplies what we need for life and he is the one who will sustain us as we face the challenges and trials of life, including the greatest trial, our own deaths. If we are rooted in Christ, we can be sure that he will hold onto us come what may, and he will provide us with the nutrients to remain vibrant and healthy and strong. Being rooted in Christ means that we know who sustains our lives and who provides us the strength to face the winds that are sure to come.

About a year ago I became interested in making wooden gears in my workshop. I was hoping to design and build a wooden clock, and while I haven’t begun, it is still on the backburner. Wooden clocks have multiple gears, and there are two ways to make gears out of wood. The first way is to print out a sheet of paper with a gear on it, paste that paper to a piece of wood and cut it out with a scroll saw. Depending on the size of the gear and the number of teeth, it can be a tedious task, and it takes a great deal of accuracy, for if you accidentally make the tooth of the gear too small or too large, it won’t mesh with another gear. The second way is to develop a jig that enables one to cut the teeth of a gear using a table or band saw. It’s quicker and more accurate. I came across a YouTube video with someone doing that, but no explanation was given. I knew that if I were going to develop such a jig, I would have to understand how gears are designed.

I initially thought the concept couldn’t be too hard, but the more I studied the geometry of a gear, the more I became aware that there was a lot to know. The shape of the tooth determines how well the gear will mesh with another, and I was introduced to the concept of the involute of a circle. The literature said that the gear which followed the involute of a circle was the best shape of a gear. I almost stopped reading because I had no idea what they were talking about. But I persisted, and I found some further definitions and I realized that I needed to understand a whole lot of other terms: pitch, root, reference, addendum, dedendum, and something called the module. These terms were confusing me, and I found I had to do more and more reading. Thankfully I have access to the Internet (how did we survive without it?), and I gradually I gained a basic understanding of how an involute gear is designed. I also became convinced that the guy who posted the YouTube video of himself cutting an involute gear on the table saw was an absolute genius. I still haven’t figured out how to build the jig to cut gears on my table saw, but sometime I may be able to do so.

If the above paragraphs confused you, you are probably not alone. I am sure that if I talked to some qualified people in a machine shop, they would not be confused because they use this kind of language all the time. But for me, a beginning, my head was spinning. I do know, however, if I would immerse myself in the field of involute gears, I would soon become able to converse with the pros.

When in seminary, our professors warned us that we need to watch the language we use from the pulpit. They were not talking about bad language, but, rather, something they called Christian-speak. While in seminary we threw around words like justification, sanctification, predestination, and the like, always knowing what they meant. For those who have been in the church for years, perhaps these words are quite familiar, and they can define them quite readily. However, the seminary professors warned us, a lot of people are not entirely familiar with these words, and if we were going to use them from the pulpit, we need to define them clearly and often or else people will get confused. Our professors went on to say that we not only had to be careful about the language we used, but when we referred to biblical stories, we had to assume that not everyone in the congregation would know what we were talking about, and we would have to give a bit of background. So, if we happened to mention Abraham or David or Paul or James (we could assume that people would have a pretty good idea of who Jesus is), we should tell a little bit about them as we referred to them.

I can imagine that someone who did not grow up in the church or to whom one’s parents did not read the familiar Bible stories when they were young, would have the same level of confusion as I did when I was first introduced to the idea of involute gears. I do try to be careful to explain theological terms and introduce people from the Bible as I refer to them so that I do not cause undo confusion among those who may not have had access to these words and persons. After all, a sermon should be clear to all, not just to those who have years of experience in the faith.

Of course, as we spend time reading our Bibles and learning the concepts from the Bible (theology), we will grow more familiar with names and terms, and we will become confused less quickly. That being said, there is something else that is equally important and that is putting what we know into practice. I might know exactly how an involute gear works, but if I don’t ever figure out how to design and create one, that knowledge is virtually useless. In the same way, if we know the Bible forward and backward, and if we can correctly define all the biblical terms but never incorporate them into our lives, what is the point?

I said at the beginning that there are two ways to make gears for a wooden clock. The second was to understand how a gear works and then develop a way of making that gear. The other way is to find a pattern, paste it to a block of wood and then cut it out. This method also results in a gear, and most people who build wooden clocks use this method. In other words, they may not have the faintest idea as to what all those terms mean but they take what they do know, and they put it to good use. I’m not saying that we should use this as an excuse not to learn the stories of the Bible or not seek to be able to define biblical words. Knowing these things deepens our appreciation for God and his work. However, we do not need to wait until we know everything to be a faithful Christian, for we can be faithful even if we know a little.

Jesus spoke highly of the faith of a child. Pasting a picture of a gear on a piece of wood and cutting it out is what a child would do. They simply trust that the one who designed the gear knew what they were doing, and they follow the lines with the saw. Perhaps what Jesus wanted to impress upon us when he talked about the faith of a child was that while we should learn and grow in knowledge, we should also be like children and simply put into practice what we do know. Living faithfully doesn’t mean that we have to know everything. It simply means that we put into practice everything we know. While some of us might have a better understanding than others, all of us can put into practice what we believe, often with the exact same results.

In Acts 6 we read that the Hellenistic Jews complained to the apostles because their widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food. (The Greek name for Greece is Hellas or Hellada.) Hellenistic Jews were Jews who spoke Greek and who had adopted more of the Greek customs and culture than had the Hebraic Jews who spoke Aramaic, a language more closely associated to Hebrew. Many of the Hellenistic Jews had migrated to Jerusalem over the years to be close to the temple, and they had formed their own community, and some of them had become Christians. Because the early Christians had pooled a significant portion of their possessions, they also relied on mutual support and could draw from the pot if needed. Hellenistic widows, because they were more likely to have migrated to Jerusalem with their husbands earlier in life, were often left without familial support structures and thus were reliant on the gracious donations of the Christian community. For some reason, they were being overlooked in the distribution of food, and they were starving.

The apostles, who were quite busy with leading the church in spiritual matters, decided to appoint seven Hellenistic men to ensure that the needy in the Christian community, in particular the Greek-speaking widows, had the care that they required. And, thus, it seems that the office of deacon was born. Deacons were to look after the physical needs of those who did not have resources to support themselves.

Among these early deacons was a man named Stephen. Not only did he have the kind of compassionate heart required of a deacon, but he also was an accomplished speaker. When he was arrested on trumped up charges of blasphemy, Stephen gave a lengthy speech (sermon) in which he accused the Jewish leadership of ignoring God’s Word spoken through the apostles just as the leaders of God’s people had ignored God’s Word spoken through the prophets centuries earlier. He so enraged the Jewish leaders that they took him outside the city and stoned him to death.

The Christian church has long recognized Stephen’s commitment to the Lord and his compassion for the poor, and centuries ago established one day every year to recognize him and celebrate his life. St. Stephen’s Day is celebrated on December 26, the day after Christmas. St. Stephen’s Day became a day when those who were rich blessed the poor with gifts of food, clothing, and money. It was also a day when employers gave their employees a bonus as a way of recognizing their faithful service.

Thus, Boxing Day was born. Although the origin of the word, “boxing,” is not certain, it appears that it was called that because alms boxes were placed in churches to collect donations for the poor. Boxing Day, thus, was a time when those who had received gifts on Christmas (the greatest gift being Jesus) blessed others from the blessings they had received. Boxing day became a day for intentional charity.

Scarcely anything of that history remains today, for Boxing Day, recently a holiday used by many to visit family and friends, has become a day when retailers open their stores so that people who have already received gifts can acquire more possessions. Boxing Day has been usurped by the retail world for the sake of profit, and people use the opportunity to buy things for themselves. Rarely, if ever, is Boxing Day thought of as a day when we intentionally give of our blessings so that others can be blessed.

Boxing Day (now Boxing Week) has become a retail event closing a month-long season that began on Black Friday. Black Friday, an American event which has spilled over into Canada, was developed by retailers to begin the Christmas shopping season. Black Friday falls on the day after American Thanksgiving, a day when people give thanks to God for his provision of physical blessing. Like Boxing Day, Black Friday is also a day when people who are full of God’s blessings are urged to acquire a little more for themselves. Similar in nature these two events, Black Friday and Boxing Day reveal the true heart of western culture. We are only too happy to forget the needs of others as we seek more for ourselves. When the economic growth is the mark if a healthy world, we should not be surprised that this has happened.

My mother used to tell how, in Holland, they would attend church on Boxing Day. I have always wondered what the pastor would have to say after having preached two services on Christmas Day (yes, she and her family attended those as well), but I think that I now know. I suspect that the pastor would take the opportunity to prepare a sermon that would encourage the congregation to engage in acts of intentional Christian charity. And, perhaps, he might use the story of Stephen, the committed, compassionate, godly man who gave his life as a martyr as he followed Jesus.

A little more than a decade ago Charlie offered to take me for a ride in his airplane. Charlie was in his early 80s, and he had built the airplane himself after selling a couple of others he had also built. In other words, he knew what he was doing, and because of his years of flying, he was an experienced and confident pilot. When Charlie offered to take me on a half hour flight to another town (2 hours by car), I took him up on his offer.

The plane was small, a two-seater, one behind the other. I sat in the back seat, my legs on either side of Charlie’s seat which was in front of me. There was a joystick that was uncomfortably close to my belly, and the canopy that covered us was made of thin plexiglass. The wings seemed to be little longer than my arms, and I guessed the steel body was less than a millimetre thick. As we took off, we were not more than 10 feet into the air, and I realized I was in trouble. As we quickly climbed, my fear of heights began to manifest itself. By the time we had reached 2000 feet, the maximum there because of proximity to the Toronto airport, I was terrified. Charlie, sensing my fear, asked me three times over if I wanted to return, and three times I refused. However, when he asked the fourth time, I could not refuse, and knowing that if I got out of the airplane at our destination, I would never get back in. We returned, and we landed about 15 minutes later.

Charlie invited me to the small airport lounge for a cup of coffee, and we discussed why I had become so afraid. He had experienced this before, and he told me that it was because I had to put my life in the hands of another. I assured him that I thought he had done a good job building the plane and I found him to be a competent pilot, but it was still difficult for me to put my life in his hands and my body in his plane. My fear of heights was the real problem, and as competent as he and the airplane were, my fear could not be overcome by trust.

This past Sunday in the catechism class, we talked about growing in our faith, and I used this illustration to talk about what faith is. Faith is putting our lives into the hands of another. It is one thing to say that we believe, it is often another thing to put what we believe into practice. There is a song that contains these words, “Faith begins by letting go, giving up what had seemed sure, taking risks and pressing on, though the way feels less secure: pilgrimage both right and odd, trusting all our life to God.” When we put our faith in God, we also are making the commitment to follow him where he leads and to live in a way that pleases him. This kind of lifestyle might feel odd, and following Jesus may take us places where we would not go if we relied on ourselves. Living faithfully, in fact, can be a little bit scary.

While our ability to believe in Jesus Christ is a gift of the Holy Spirit, we also have a responsibility to cause our faith to grow, and there are several methods we can use to do exactly that. The first would be to know who God is and understand what he has done. I am fully convinced that the first cause of little faith is a lack of understanding of who God is. The best way to know God, of course, is to turn to his revelation of himself and listen again to the stories of what he has done and hear again the promises he made to us. I would never have gotten into the airplane if I didn’t trust Charlie. (I did ask around to see what others thought, and they gave good reports.) In the same way, we are not going to trust God if we don’t really know who God is or what he can do. Thus, if we feel our faith is weak, a good starting point might be to discover again who God is.

But when we have done that, we also need to practice our faith. I could probably overcome my fear of flying in little planes (big ones don’t bother me) if I would do it more often. It is one thing to say that I believe that an airplane and its pilot are qualified to take my high off the ground, but it is another thing to feel confident. Head knowledge is great, but experience makes head knowledge real. If we want our faith to grow, we need to step out in faith. The song that I just mentioned tells us that we need to live as God called us to live, caring for others, often sacrificing ourselves to do God’s work so that we can learn experientially that God is faithful. I am sure that I am not alone when I say that I know a lot about God from the Bible but I don’t always live as if what I know is true. When called by God to live selflessly, to perhaps give up the sure and tested way, we find that difficult, so difficult that we may well ignore God’s calling on our lives. Saying we are Christians and living the Christian life may become two different things for us, and, of course, that is not at all what God expects from us.

Faith in God means that we put our lives in his hands, and we make ourselves willing to do and be whatever it is that he asks. Is that a frightening prospect? Yes, it is. But, again, this becomes more and more possible if we have been learning about who God is, what he has done for us, and what he promises to do. If we can trust that God is faithful, we are far more likely to be able to step out in faith. We might think of growing in faith as an upward spiral in which, as we learn more about God, we intentionally put our lives in his hands, and, as we do, we experience that he is faithful. As we experience his faithfulness, we come to know him more, and as we know him more, our faith grows. Our faith should never stop growing, and it never will stop growing as we put our lives into God’s hands, trusting that he will be faithful to who he is and what he has promised.

Why are you here? This question seems too open-ended, and if asked the question we will try to narrow down the “here.” Is “here” being on earth or is “here” being in the room where you are now sitting? Depending on how we define “here” will determine how we answer the question, “Why are you here?”

Genesis 3 gives us the account of Adam and Eve’s fall into sin. They ate the forbidden fruit, discovered they were naked and made rudimentary clothes for themselves, sewing fig leaves together. As evening fell, they heard the footsteps of the Lord God as he walked in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid among the trees of the garden. Although we can be sure God knew where they were, he called out, “Where are you?” Adam and Eve could have responded with the obvious answer, “We’re over here, hiding among the trees,” to which God could have replied, “And why are you there?” Adam seems to have anticipated God’s obvious second question and he answers it first: “We heard you in the garden, and because I was naked, I was afraid.” God’s interrogation continues: Who told you that you were naked? Did you eat the forbidden fruit? What is this that you have done? Adam and Eve’s answers were unsatisfactory. Adam blamed Eve, and Eve blamed the serpent. And, as we know from the opening verses of Genesis 3, God had made the serpent. Was Eve inadvertently blaming God?

If we go back to God’s first question, it is as if he is asking, “Why are you here?” What are the circumstances that led you to this situation? Adam and Eve refuse to take responsibility for what had happened, not repenting of their sin, but we know it was only because they disobeyed God and ate the fruit that they found themselves in their new and undesirable situation. Even though they refused to take responsibility, it is evident that they were where they were because of what they did, not because of what God had done.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree when it comes to refusing to take responsibility, for we can be found doing the same. Increasingly we lay the blame at the feet of others or upon circumstances or even on God. Psychology does a good job of helping us understand why people behave as they do, but psychology can also go a step further and use that understanding to say that we have little choice in the matter. We are victims of circumstance, we are told, and no one should judge us for acting as we do. In other words, we have used science as a justification to pass the blame so that we can excuse ourselves of sin. We tend to be quite like Adam and Eve, blaming others. Yet, we cannot avoid the reality that we must shoulder the blame ourselves. We are “here” because of what we have done.

A Christian can also ask the question, “Why am I here?” Why am I part of God’s family? Why have I been brought close to God? Why am I not hiding from him anymore? Strangely, many people, though they are loathe to accept responsibility for sin, are quite happy to accept credit for why they have been brought close to God. “I have lived a pretty good life.” “God accepts me as I am.” “I’ve made some good decisions, including the decision to follow Jesus.” It is ironic that while we have little desire to take responsibility for what leads us to hide from God, we are quite happy to be at least partial responsible for being close to God.

If we are honest, however, we would have to admit that we are here, in Christ, not because of what we did but because of what God has done. We were “there” because of what we did, and we are “here” because of what God has done. God cannot be blamed because we hide ourselves from him, but he can be praised for calling us back to himself.

I find God’s response to human sin to be quite profound. His “Where are you?” is designed to have us confront our present reality, but it also begs the question, “And why is it that you are where you are?” If we are distant from God, we can blame no one but ourselves. If we have become close to God, it is because God sought us out, asked his Son to carry our blame, and drew us back to himself. The “Where are you?” is a probing question, but it is also a question that God asks us so that we can be confronted with our sin but, at the same time, be drawn back to his presence. When we ask the question, “Why am I here?” let’s be sure to take responsibility for what our contribution to our situation is and give God credit for his.