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“Imagine a police force which is just.” Hours of playing with words had come down to these seven to begin my sermon. I must admit, I was pleased with it. “Every crime solved, every misdemeanour punished…” Surrounded by books, the last rays of sunlight lit my desk making the old lamp redundant. I remember smiling at the image of true light shining in this dark, secular world as I put pen to paper, scribbling out those three words which would provide such illumination: “…every wrong righted.”
It was going to be the type of sermon which would apply the gospel to today’s society. “Why do criminals get away with murder? If only, we had a just police force. Why do rapists get less time than burglars? If only…” My preaching voice would reach a crescendo at this point; a tumultuous sound echoing from the far corners of our old building. “Thy Kingdom come…” My audience wouldn’t know if it were a prayer or a command as I preach that in God’s kingdom a just police force will exist, that nobody will get away with anything, that every wrong will be righted.
A slight breeze shifted the papers on my desk; I looked up, my eyes making the journey to the window first, followed by my hands as I slammed the shutter down. It was the type of sermon which would be printed in the newspapers, which would be heard on local radio, which might even make a list of bestsellers before the end of the year. A sigh of satisfaction as I again picked up my pen, imagining God using my words, lifting them, transforming them with His divine breath. I wondered how the apostle felt as he penned Holy Scripture; whether He felt God speaking through him; whether he knew just how important his words would be.
I sat there that day, thinking about Paul, about Scripture, about the Kingdom of God. I may have fallen asleep, I may have dozed off, but in one moment I met God. He revealed Himself. In that moment I fell before God, a penitent sinner, knowing that it is He alone who sustains me. What happened in that moment? Well, God can appear in a cloud of glory, on a throne of sapphire, with a voice like thunder, but sometimes he appears in a newspaper article, on a DVD, or with the ringing of a telephone.
“Hello... . Oh, yes... . Yes…I understand. Thank you.”
I didn’t actually see God; I felt Him. Imagine an ocean, wave after powerful wave: rushing, gushing water pounding loudly down on you. You’re in a dinghy; no, not a dinghy, you’re on a piece of driftwood; no, not on driftwood, you are the driftwood. A turbulent, tremendous, tormenting wave about to crash over you; rising, rising, building, growing, seeming to growl at you. That is God. He may be the babe in the manger, the good shepherd, the hero of the piece, but to me He is righteousness, He is holiness, He is capable of righting every single thing that I’ve done wrong, and punishing me for every one.
The telephone call? Oh, it was just the bank. Someone had copied my credit card details, bought a new television, but they’d been caught and the bank was sending me a new card. Of course, real life isn’t that quick. In real life, you have time to think, time to wonder, time to imagine. You have time to hear that it’s the bank on the phone, to imagine that they’d seen you keep the £20 that came out of the ATM when you only asked for £10; to hear that a television had been bought, to imagine they knew that you refused to buy food for the homeless person, instead buying a new computer; to hear that you’d been caught, to imagine that every thought was being judged, every sin punished, every wrong righted.
“Imagine a police force which is just. Every crime solved, every misdemeanour punished, every wrong righted”. I must admit, it scares me. He knows everything I’ve done; at any moment that phone call could come and this web of humanity could be swatted away, burnt and cursed. In the end, my sermon didn’t address the issue of criminals or murderers or thieves; it dealt with His holiness. Nothing else seemed important.
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