City Prayer Breakfast 2005
How do we react to that trumpet call in this ancient hall?
The shock of it may have been a bit like the coming of Jesus as Messiah 2000 years ago.
I wonder if there are parallels between how we just reacted and how the people back then might have responded.
- Some would have been excited, animated at the unfolding opportunities.
- Some would have been excited, but embarrassed, at something so out of place.
- Some would have been upset, cross about the Messiah's violation of tradition and culture.
- And some - perhaps those who understood best just how profoundly revolutionary he was - those who had most to lose, would have thought that the only way they could save themselves, and everything they'd worked for, the only way they could preserve the status quo that allowed them to carry on their lives as they liked them, was to ignore him, or worse.
How do we, as men and women of the Christian faith, respond to the trumpet call of Jesus, here and now, in the City of London?
We normally respond to questions like that by responding individually. How does it affect me? What am I supposed to do? What is my responsibility?
But I want to encourage us to consider this question as a group, as a company of friends and believers, as a community together. How should we, as the body of Christ together in this place and with a shared responsibility, respond together?
We're all here, I know, this morning because we care enough to get up and come to a prayer meeting. We, together, along with others, care for this City.
We love its energy, its creativity, its inventiveness. We love the way it takes risks and rewards success. We love the deal-doing, the buzz, the people.
We love being part of a City that leads the world in so many areas: foreign exchange, international equities, shipping, insurance - the statistics are endless.
We love being part of a community of just a few hundred thousand people who come here every day to work together to make this place a success. We love the networking, the togetherness, the common purpose.
So when we consider our response to the clear and sharp note of Jesus' call, we're not doing that as those who see this place in terms of the tabloid press stereotypes, of insider dealers and fat cats. We are fans, not enemies, of this place.
But for many of us, to be honest, we're not quite sure how our faith fits in. We know we should tell the truth and not steal the pencils. We know we should be honest, and look for opportunities to share our faith.
But we're still left with that nagging feeling that there must be more to it than that. Where's the adventure?
We're not satisfied with a Christianity that just makes us respectable, a Christianity that just turns us into people who obey the rules better than anyone else.
We want a faith that's much more real, more practical, more dynamic than those pale imitations.
And we're troubled by that deep, base note that tells us all is not quite right in this place.
How is it that we love working in a square mile so dominated by money? Are we supposed to embrace this place, or live in tension with it? Does God love the City, or does he want to judge it? Does he want to change it, transform it, destroy it - or simply abandon it to its own devices?
Does "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done" have any meaning here? And if it does, what does it mean?
Do the Beatitudes - that wonderful part of the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus explains how the Kingdom operates - blessed are the poor, blessed are the humble, blessed are the merciful - do these things mean anything up here?
What does it feel like as we look around the City - and see it as it really is - and then listen to that trumpet call from God?
Just as Jesus arrived in a powerful and complex empire, we too live and work in a City that's like an empire. It controls with money what used to be controlled by force. Its grip is everywhere. It's like a mighty aircraft carrier, powerful beneath the waterline and well-armed above, dominating any battlefield it comes across.
And, like any empire, once it's in place, it's difficult to imagine the status quo ever changing, or a new dawn ever arising.
But imagine we can, and I never want to underestimate the power of imagining a different future; the power of dreaming.
We just need to reflect for a moment on what the Bible would look like without its many windows on the future, to see how barren our faith would be without glimpses of the future. Imagine Genesis without Noah seeing the coming flood; Joseph without his dreams of years of plenty and famine; Moses without his hope for the promised land; the prophets with no Jesus to foretell.
So can I ask us to dream, together, some dreams for this City of ours?
What might our dream look like as we begin to imagine this City - this empire - being permeated by the fragrance, and by the power, of Christ?
- We'd see a City that's increasing influenced by self sacrifice, not defensiveness; by love, rather than grudges; by peacemaking, not office politics; by transparency, not manipulation.
- We'd see a City where the upside down, frustratingly impractical tools of the Kingdom are increasingly used, instead of the weapons of empire - freedom of choice, not pressure; servant-heartedness, not domination; fairness, not duress.
- We'd see a City that takes responsibility for the money it raises; a City that doesn't pretend moral choices are not its responsibility. A City based on relationships, not just on loan covenants.
- We wouldn't live under a banner that says "Success demands more". We'd have learnt the meaning of words like "sufficiency", "restraint", "enough".
- We'd trust God for our old age more than our pension adviser.
- We'd work in places where it was natural to share the Gospel, and people would be falling, not being pushed, in to his Kingdom.
- We wouldn't be overawed by the invincibility that seems to emanate even from the very architecture of this place. We wouldn't be subdued or intimidated. No, we would celebrate the invisible power of God to shake the hill tops and to move mountains.
- And we would celebrate small and humble beginnings, knowing that it's from a mustard seed that God builds his Kingdom.
- We'd be part of a system with an increasing bias towards the poor, the disadvantaged, the oppressed and the marginalised. We'd be making money that gives opportunity as much as it does riches. We'd be working in a City of hope, not cynicism.
- And we, together, as the body of Christ in this place, with all of our faults and shortcomings, but with all of our faith and prayer and diversity and witness, we would literally be the gospel of Christ.
- We would, as a community of God's people, by our love and our commitment to each other, model a better way of being.
Is this an impossible dream? I don't think so. But dreaming is not enough. We need to move forward. We must work with God to make our dreams become a reality.
We must be deliberate in our agenda - as Jesus was when he deliberately took on the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Herodians and the Romans.
We must aim for change, not just for survival.
We must make space for God to move in mysterious ways - not reducing every decision to our limited understanding of effectiveness.
In fact, we need a new definition of "effectiveness". A definition that is in tune with a God who gave up the levers of power, and recognised that defeat was the almost inevitable outcome of his choices. A God whose victory only comes through defeat on the cross.
So, we must make choices, even when we know that defeat is more likely than not.
We need a definition of effectiveness that's full of the paradoxes of the Kingdom - the last shall be first; lose your life to save it; blessed are the persecuted. These are not the ways of empire. This is what it means to take up our cross.
We must put our trust in a way of being, and of doing, that is in tune with the way that God says his world is ordered. We must work with the cosmos as God says he has ordered it, not according to the way that the world says that things get done.
We don't need to do more; but what we are doing, we need to do differently.
We must value those we work with based on love, not on status. A love that is limitless, undeserved, unconditional, selfless and costly.
We must weep with those who weep, as well as rejoice with those who rejoice.
We must recover and share that first passion that we had when we first became Christians.
We must wash the feet of those in our office who we know will one day betray us; we must forgive those who have wounded us.
We must be generous beyond generous, with our lifestyles, our friendships, our time and ourselves.
We must make beginnings, experiment, explore.
We must be persistent, but patient, knowing our calling is to serve and leave the timing to God.
Let's tell each other stories of how we've seen God at work.
Let's redefine the miraculous for this spiritual desert.
Let's embrace, and not define, our differences.
Let's understand the Kingdom as a radical, reforming, revolutionary energy.
Let's not reduce it to just another 21st century tool for effective leadership or post-modern management.
Let's take risks in working for peace and reconciliation.
Let's release the resources of this City - its skills, its money and its connections.
Let's be an ever-present plumb line of conscience for what is just and true and honourable.
Let's be deliberately counter-cultural.
Why me, why you, why now, why here? It's simple. It's because it's us that's here. There isn't anyone else. The sun is shining on us.
Let's respond as individuals, but let's respond together as well. Let's work out together how we, as the body of Christ, respond to his trumpet call.
You have on your tables little cards that ask the question "Why am I here?" I'd encourage you to keep the card in your wallet for a while.
You'll see on the back that it says SPQR - Senatus Populus Que Romanus - the senate and people of Rome. The emblem that was carried everywhere by the Roman empire, the logo fixed to every legion's standard. The hallmark of empire.
Taking a bit of a liberty with the Latin, we've highlighted the letters SQ status quo. The way things are is the way things are. You can't change them. The City is as the City is. It's immoveable. That's the false claim that permeates every empire.
But there's a question mark. Will we believe instead in a God who shakes every foundation and sweeps away every empire but his own?A God who does not accept the status quo? A God who is determined, with our help, to build his kingdom?
Will we step into the void and embark on the adventure? Will we wade out beyond our depth? Will we jump from the ledge? Will we believe in, and pray for, a different future?
James Featherby
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