nothing is written

There are temptations all around us. The chances are that it won’t take you too long to remember some of the ones that have drifted through your mind over the last 24hours. But while some of them are obvious, there’s a range of temptations that are subtle and sometimes harder to spot.

Take this one, for example: our prayers don’t matter that much.

This myth comes in many forms, plaguing us with thoughts about God being too busy, that we are too small or that the world’s problems just too great.

Giving into these temptations leaves us muzzled, blindfolded and deaf, like those three brass monkeys all wrapped up in one. Giving up on prayer cuts into our potential and reduces our impact. Giving up on prayer is giving up on God.

There’s more to being a Christian than being a brass monkey.

In the days of the early church with its ever increasing roll call of martyrs, the numbers of Jews and non-Jews joining the Christian sect grew with phenomenal power. By the end of the first century – and not more than seventy years after Christ’s handful of followers were told to go and make disciples – there are as many as one million Christians spread across the Roman empire. Within another three centuries 40 million people would count themselves As Christians – almost a quarter of the world’s population.

The numbers are different today. There are even more of us: almost one in three of the world’s 6 billion people are Christians. Within the next week we could do more to change the state of the word than any single government could do in a decade.

Amnesty International’s new anti-waterboarding advert

I think that Amnesty does an important job, and I think that provocative campaign videos have the power to prod us into action in ways that so many direct mail pieces don’t.

But I’ve watched this twice now and have yet to do anything about it. I’ve not ‘un-subscribed’ and I’ve not moved on from being anything other than a spectator and admirer of the way that it leaves me stirred.

So what’s the problem here? Am I over-stirred or just plain lazy? Too much voyeurism on my part or do these edgy videos put us in the place of observer far too well? In aping Hollywood, do they make it harder for us to break free from the sofa?

There are only so many conspiracy theories that I can take in any one given conversation. Last night I got three in as many minutes. It left me a little shaky.

Our friend Missy came over and told us about the friend of hers who had recently had a conversation with someone who gave his job title as FBI Biochemist. She left weighed down with the following info:

1. That cancer’s been beaten and cured already. All that’s stopping the treatments getting out is the greed of the pharmaceutical companies. Although, Mr FBI Biochemist suggested, if you’re rich enough you can get around the system.

2. That nano-technology is just around the corner, offering the opportunity for an individual to be coated in invisible yet impenetrable nano armour. Assassin’s bullets would be useless against the wearer.

3. That the only reason that flying cars aren’t commercially available yet is because the FAA can’t get their heads around how to map out a route system that will bring order to the skies.

Assuming the guy was genuine – that the conversation actually took place – I’m left with a number of uncomfortable reactions by way of response, mainly based on the lengths to which blokes will go to try and get themselves into the sack with women they’ve only just met.

But the conspiracy theory theme has developed into something else as this day has gone by. I’m spending my days at the moment thinking about the potential of the church to offer tangible, practical hope to those that need it most. It’s something that I spend quite a bit of time thinking about, only this situation is different: I’m drawing inspiration from conversations with very wealthy Christians.

The fact that there are worship leaders and musicians selling millions of albums has always struck me as a potential conspiracy theory in the making. I have to be honest and admit that I’ve done more finger-pointing and bitching than I should. I’ve been pretty judgemental and am not particularly proud of the fact.

I’m not so sure it did me much good. I mean, all that negativity with nowhere to go just seems to fester, right? Like conspiracy theories about cancer treatment, invisible armour and flying cars it just leaves us ranting on the sidelines, staring like wide-eyed crazies with matted hair and too much space in our heads.

I think I’d rather take a different approach, and look instead for the good, believe the best. And, you know what, having bent my mind round to that way of thinking of late it’s left me prouder and more hopeful and more excited about what we’re capable of.

‘The local church is the hope of the world’ – it’s a phrase I want to repeat and re-type until it becomes a cliché. If it can become a familiar truth, reinforced by constant examples and clear evidence, then maybe, just maybe, we’ll start to see quite how great our potential is. Perhaps some time sleazy guys in elegant bars might ditch the FBI Biochemist routine in favour of something far more impressive: ‘my name’s Chuck and I work for a church. Let me tell you about how great we are…’

Yeah, maybe not. But you never know…