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All this daily writing, posting and commenting is enormous fun, but after all of one month, I'm thinking it would be good to take Sundays off. Let's just all go to church enjoy some propinquity. Back again tomorrow.

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Dear Sola Panel readers,

Will you do me a favour and take part in this two-part blog posted titled ’Noosa not Newletter’? If you would be so kind as to answer the question below by submitting a comment, I'd be grateful. Here's the question I want you to answer:

If you were to ask your pastor/senior minister/<insert ecclesiastical equivalent of Captain Coach here> this question, what would he say in response to “What is the hardest part of your job?”

Now, you might be scrambling to find last week's newsletter or bulletin to research Pastor Perry's latest prayer points, perhaps thinking, “That'll surely give me a clue”. No. Don't hunt up the newsletter. I'm thinking more Noosa than newsletter; I'm thinking, “What would Pastor Perry share with a trusted confidant while he was on holidays, away from the rush and the bother? What would he say in one of those reflective moods that occur on holidays on beautiful beaches like in Noosa, Queensland, Australia?” Imagine Pastor Perry turning to his wife and saying, “Sweetheart, it really is a wonderful privilege to shepherd God's people, but gee I find it hard when ...”

Let me know by submitting a comment and I'll read them in preparation for ‘Noosa not newsletter (Part 2)’!

PS If you are the senior pastor, I'm particularly keen to get your answer!

PPS This is not a elaborate ploy to win the Sola Panellists ‘Most Comments Trophy’ for 2008 (although it would be a great spin-off).

PPPS A ‘Most Comments Trophy’ doesn't exist, just in case you were horrified by the thought.

PPPPS However, as a result of PPPS, a mate of mine has decided to make one (Cool!!!)

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Having promised three posts on ‘social action’, here at last is the final instalment (Read Part 1 and Part 2.)

Part 3 has been difficult to polish off—not only because we are getting to the rough terrain of practical wisdom, but also because it's so easy to be self-deceived. Am I wanting to play down what social action means in reality because, for all my lofty talk about love, my heart is in fact cold, and I don't want to have to put myself out for others? Or am I wanting to play up social action because, for all my lofty talk about proclamation being central, I don't in fact want it to be central, and would rather do something else instead—something that seems both more immediately useful and more acceptable in the eyes of the world?

In weakness and trembling, then, let me try six propositions on what ‘social action’ looks like for the average Christian:

1. It starts at our door.
   ‘Social action’ is really just godly Christian love in response to the needs that we meet every day. As James puts it, “If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, be warmed and filled,’ without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that?” (Jas 2:15-16). John says much the same in his letter (1 John 3:16-18). The chilling example of Lazarus and Dives in Luke 16:19-31 also comes to mind. You see a need, you open your hand and meet it.
2. It extends further afield.
   There is a special theological (or salvation-historical) background to Paul's collection for the suffering saints in Jerusalem, but it is, all the same, an important New Testament example of contributing generously to the needs of others farther from home. Wanting to be generous and open-handed to others is a sign that we have been gripped by the gospel of grace (see 2 Cor 8:1-9). There are all sorts of ways that Christians can help and contribute to the welfare of others in our streets and our local communities, in our nations and in the world. Of course, the further afield we go, the less direct our knowledge of the situation can be, and the less able we are to offer concrete and effective help. It's no accident that it has often been Christians who have gone and lived in places of great need, and set up aid societies and structures to help in those areas.
3. It's all good.
   If our theological foundation (in parts 1 and 2) was correct, there is no meaningful distinction between helping others on a small scale (making a meal for a sick neighbour) and helping others on a larger scale (providing food aid for flood victims). We shouldn't underestimate or despise the small, nor fail to take opportunities for the large when they arise. However, our ability to act in ways that really help others appears to diminish in proportion to the complexity of the problem and our distance from it. (In this light, it's interesting to read Doug Wilson's critique of NT Wright's passionate argument that Christians must campaign for the abolition of third world debt.)
4. It's variegated according to God's gift.
   The ethical demand to love others and serve them is singular. Its outworking will be variegated because of the different people we each are, the different gifts we have, and the different circumstances, needs and opportunities that we confront. We will make different decisions at the level of what we think will do most good. We should not guilt-manipulate other Christians into one particular kind of social action and love, nor baptize our own political leanings into a call for other Christians to think and act as we do. I find it curious that in the US, evangelical Christians ‘getting involved socially and politically’ tends in the vast majority of cases towards the promotion of of ‘right-wing’ causes; in the UK and Australia, the opposite seems to be the case. So a poll of, say, Sydney evangelicals would, I think, find a majority pro Kyoto protocol, anti the Iraq war, pro FairTrade, pro relaxed entry conditions for asylum seekers, anti the former Howard government's workplace reforms, and so on. A similar poll on similar issues in, say, Chicago or Dallas would, I suspect, turn up very different results.
5. Serving through politics is a valid and good secular activity for Christians.
   The nature and extent of political engagement and activity obviously depends on the society in which we live. The options for us would doubtless be different if we were living in first century Rome. We engage in the political structures and activities of our society as Christian citizens—by voting, by expressing a view, by running for office or supporting those who do. However, I don't think ‘political engagement’ is a special form of social action, unless one is also prepared to include becoming a doctor or joining the army reserve as ‘social action’. I don't think Christians have a special calling or responsibility to be involved in politics. Some of us will, and that's a good thing. Some of us will become plumbers too, and that's a valuable service to our society. And some of us will serve by setting up or working in relief agencies of different kinds.
6. Let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.
   If we believe that proclamation is central to God's purposes, let us give ourselves to it. Let its centrality be evident in our lives and ministries. But likewise, let us not simply talk about the value of loving others through social action: let's give of ourselves cheerfully and sacrificially for the good of others, like the Christ who was rich beyond all splendour, but who, for love's sake, became poor.

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From (almost) the beginning of the Bible to the very end, the Bible is a book about judgement. The idea that judgement might come functions in the obvious way: to scare sinners. But it is also paradoxically comforting for angry people. It is especially comforting to those who are angry over the injustice they see in the world.

Two examples from the beginning and end of Scripture come to mind, and they both involve unjust loss of life. The first example comes from the beginning of the Bible: Genesis 4. Here, Cain murders his brother Abel. What does Abel do in response? Well, clearly he is not able—to do anything, that is. Or is he? God contradicts our normal understanding of what dead people are capable of when, in verse 10, he speaks to Cain with these terrible words: “What have you done? The voice of your brother's blood is crying to me from the ground”. He then proceeds to punish Cain for his sin. This is not good news for Cain. But it is surely comforting to Abel, who according to Hebrews 11, continues even to this day to look forward to a heavenly reward.

(Not everyone takes Genesis literally, of course. But this is a mistake, since other parts of the Bible also confirm the ability of the dead to speak with great clarity, even making reference to this very incident. So Hebrews 11:4 says of Abel, “And through his faith, though he died, he still speaks”. Two verses later, the writer to the Hebrews comments, “And without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him” (v. 6). So it seems that the ability to speak after death is one of God's rewards for those who trust him. It may be that God is the only one who hears them, but that should be enough for us.)

The second example comes the other end of the Bible—from Revelation 6, where those Christians who have died for the cause of Christ call out for vengeance and are comforted by the idea of God's justice (I discuss that here).

There is one more example of how God's judgement comforts dead people who have suffered injustice, and it's very important. As Jesus dies on the cross, he quotes the words of Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”. This is clearly a Psalm of judgement where the psalmist recognizes that he is surrounded by “dogs” and “evildoers” who, by the psalm's end, have been frustrated in their desire to hurt and to harm the faithful servant of God. In turn, the servant sings praise in the congregation to the one who rescued him.

The Lord Jesus was comforted on the cross by the thought that his heavenly Father would save him from wicked people. He was not just comforted by that comforting thought, he was comforted by God himself who, three days later, raised him from the dead, thus answering his prayer.

Indeed, the fact that God answered Jesus' prayer by raising him from the dead is also the comfort we have—that, like Abel and the saints of Revelation 6, our angry prayers for injustice to come to an end will be answered. When? On the day when the risen Lord Jesus comes as the Saviour of his people, and as the avenger against those who rejected his rule when he first came to earth. In Paul's words:

This is evidence of the righteous judgment of God, that you may be considered worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you are also suffering—since indeed God considers it just to repay with affliction those who afflict you, and to grant relief to you who are afflicted as well as to us, when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with his mighty angels in flaming fire, inflicting vengeance on those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus. They will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction, away from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his might, when he comes on that day to be glorified in his saints, and to be marveled at among all who have believed, because our testimony to you was believed.

(2 Thess 1:5-10.)

To sum up: the idea that God will judge people and cast them into eternal destruction—hell—for all eternity is a great comfort to anyone who is angry about injustice. Those of us who teach the gospel or tell it to others have a wonderfully comforting message of damnation that will bring hope to all who put their trust in God. The more we speak of it, the more comfort we offer.

UPDATE: Welcome to those who are visiting from Ben Myers' blog. If you want to see some related posts, begin with this post on 'Preaching Hell to Depressed Teens', and continue on to the other links in that post. This issue is not unimportant, and will repay prayerful homework.

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Say it in a whisper, but Zechariah is not the first book that I would turn to when dipping into the Old Testament. Some books are easy to understand, and some books are not. Zechariah is not.

So when Tony Payne tossed me Tim McMahon's studies on Zechariah about a month ago, in order for me to edit them, my feelings were mixed. Yes, I thought it would be exciting to scale Everest and take in the view, but parts of the climb were going to be seriously hairy and, given some of the weirder excesses of apocalyptic interpretation, possibly life-threatening. I didn't want to read Zechariah and end up in present-day Israel fighting angry Palestinians. But some readers of Zechariah in modern times have read it, and clearly then felt compelled to take that path.

What do we do when confronted with the hard, harder and hardest parts of the Bible—especially if (like me) you sometimes feel yourself to be in the ‘dumb and dumber’ category of Bible reader?

First, the best advice of all, in my experience, is to say a quick prayer, and start reading. If God really is God and the Bible really is his word (the ‘Sword of the Spirit’), and he really does want to use it to save us, then, whatever else happens, we mustn't allow ourselves to be put off by the incredulity of our friends and the sneers of unbelievers: “Study the Bible? Study Zechariah? Surely not!” God spoke his word and inspired others to write it down because he intended it to reach an audience. It was an audience greater in scope and extent than the original hearers could possibly have imagined. To pick the book up and read it, to feel confused and disoriented, and then to pick it up and read it again is a great act of faith. And it is a faith that will not be disappointed—if God is true to his own word and if he has given us his Holy Spirit to help us.

Second, however, I'm not saying that we should do this without help. Other Old Testament readers have the potential to be great friends to us. I include and mention especially the writers of the New Testament. For them, as for us, the Old Testament was an ancient text by the time they got to work on interpreting it: it was well over 500 years old for them, and, in some cases, considerably older. Zechariah was a relative new kid on the block, but still further from them than Shakespeare is from us. And the New Testament writers had clearly read him. Jesus quotes or refers to Zechariah in the days and even moments before his arrest, trial and crucifixion. Furthermore, the New Testament writers have this advantage on us: their interpretations are divinely inspired whereas ours are not.

Third, you will want to turn to other friends outside of the New Testament and ask for their help too. Tim McMahon's studies, still in their editing stage (I'm nearly finished, Tony—nearly finished!) have been just brilliant for me in this respect—not least because Tim appears to have followed my first two steps! That is, he has read Zechariah prayerfully and has consulted the New Testament. Tim would not mind me saying that, unlike the New Testament writers, he is not divinely inspired and error-free! But having worked through Tim's studies several times, there is no doubt in my mind that God's Holy Spirit has given him significant understanding of God's prophecy through Zechariah. And now, working through Tim, God has helped me as well.

Oh, just one afterthought: people who struggle with reading may even want to get someone to read the Bible for them. This is not nearly as demanding or embarrassing as it used to be. The Bible can now be downloaded as mp3 audio files (e.g. this). Those of us outside the US may even grow to love an American accent. (US readers will no doubt retort, “What accent? Y'all are the ones who talk funny!”).

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