Many are called. Few are Chosen.
And some are not quite as Chosen as others.
A couple of Parish Notices before we get into St Andrew’s Day:
There’s no such thing as Black Friday. Not a thing. Sorry. But if there were such a thing, I’d mention my so-called ‘Black Friday’ offer: three of my signed books plus a bonus book (of the best thing I’ve ever written) with free postage if you order before noon on 9th December. Might sort a few Christmas presents?
Also, I’m starting to get bookings for my new stand-up theology show, God, the Bible and Everything. If you’d like me to come to your church, that can be arranged. Get in touch. But don’t hang around if you want a Friday or Saturday before the end of June as they are being booked up.
On 30th November, the Church of England, along with many other churches, remembers St Andrew, one of Jesus’s twelve disciples. He was said to have been martyred on an X-shaped cross which we see on the Scottish national flag. But how did St Andrew end up being associated with Scotland, on the edge of the known world during the time of the early church?
The small town of Kilrymont in Scotland is said to be the place where St Regulus – also known as St Rule – arrived with the Apostle Andrew’s kneecap, an upper arm bone, three fingers and a tooth. He had had a dream in which an angel told him to take some of St Andrew’s bones from Constantinople to ‘the ends of the earth’. Scotland seemed to fit the bill and so off he went. Regulus took a shipwreck off the coast of East Fife as guidance to stop and establish his shrine to St Andrew there. The place became known as St Andrew’s, attracting pilgrims from many miles away. Eventually, a cathedral was built and the town became a centre of learning and the seat of an Archbishop as well as a site of pilgrimage.
In some church traditions, the historic veneration of Andrew speaks for itself. For those like me who like to see the Christian faith through the lens of scripture, Andrew seems to be a peripheral character. He says few things recorded in the gospels, and he is somewhat overshadowed by his brother, Simon Peter. He’s hardly a ‘main character’.
To me, that’s what makes him interesting. Peter, along with James and John, formed the inner ring of disciples with whom Jesus had a closer relationship. For example, Peter, James and John witnessed the Transfiguration and were sworn to secrecy until after the resurrection. But why is Andrew not in the group? James and John were brothers. Andrew was Simon Peter’s brother. Would he have expected to be included in the smaller group? Was his exclusion a little awkward? As a sitcom writer, I am naturally drawn to this tricky relationship.
I Saw Him First
What might have been galling for Andrew is that he saw Jesus first, at least as far as John is concerned. Having been a follower of John the Baptist, Andrew heard Jesus described as ‘the lamb of God’. In John 1:40-42, we read:
Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, was one of the two who heard what John had said and who had followed Jesus. The first thing Andrew did was to find his brother Simon and tell him, “We have found the Messiah” (that is, the Christ). And he brought him to Jesus. Jesus looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You will be called Cephas” (which, when translated, is Peter).
Within moments of meeting his brother, Jesus is suddenly giving him a cool nickname, ‘the Rock’. What about Andrew? Could he be ‘paper’ or ‘scissors’? Actually, he did get a nickname in some later Christian traditions: ‘protokletos’ which means the ‘first apostle’. According to John, and John would know, that is exactly what Andrew was.
Some are born great. Some have greatness thrust upon. Some introduce their brother to someone who makes them great. Our human nature and current culture of envy makes it hard to even consider that Andrew was content as the first disciple and thrilled for his brother, and for the Kingdom of God. In his old age, author Somerset Maugham said, “Now that I’ve grown old, I realize that for most of us, it is not enough to have achieved personal success. One’s best friend must also have failed.”1 It’s funny because it’s true. We are the worst.
There is no place for petty jealousy and rivalry in the Kingdom of God. That is because it is not about us, but Christ and his glory. He takes all our efforts – great or small – and uses them to build his Kingdom. One of Andrew’s few lines in the gospels can be found in John’s account of the Feeding of the Five Thousand. Confronted with starving masses, Andrew says:
“Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?”
What a daft thing to say. The line almost feels like he’s bailing out half-way through. But the result is wonderful. With Christ, five small barley loaves are enough. The bread is broken and passed out until everyone is satisfied. Everyone. Five thousand men. Plus women and children. Maybe ten thousand? Who knows? (We will, one day)
Andrew was there at the start of this miracle with his measure of faith, although no-one is high-fiving him afterwards. He had no idea what Jesus was going to do. But he was open to Jesus doing something. And Jesus did something.
You’ve probably not heard of Maria Millis. She was a housekeeper in a loveless upper-class British family. She showed the love of Christ to a little boy starved of affection. That boy came to faith in his teens and grew up to dramatically improve the lives of children, miners and animals. God used a humble, faithful housekeeper to bring blessing to many through that boy, Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury, celebrated philanthropist and social reformer. Lord Shaftesbury has a long Wikipedia page. Maria Millis doesn’t have one at all even though ‘she started it’.
Today’s banal management speak would call Andrew – and Maria - ‘a team player’. The far superior language of the Psalms (84:10) put this way:
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness.
This is something we need to dwell on now. It feels like our culture is at the end of something, and at the start of something else. Right now, Christians need to be faithful, bring up their kids in the faith and rebuild churches and institutions. We may well not see the fruit of these in our lifetimes. Maybe our children won’t either. There won’t be many blue plaques to our generation. And even if there are, who cares? Let us join with Andrew in being doorkeepers, housekeepers and ‘protokletes’ for the Kingdom of God and the glory of Christ as we await his return.
Was that encouraging? It was meant to be. Is there an Andrew or Maria that you use some encouragement? Why not send them this right now?
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On my other blog - in which I write about writing situation comedy - I’ve started a series about nine types of comedy characters, loosely based on enneagrams. And I’m turning them into YouTube videos but there’s a link to the blog below:
Beautiful. The Lord Shaftesbury line was surprisingly timely; we're reading about him in homeschool. Tolkien got it too, with Sam Gamgee and hobbits in general. Who wants to be the one everyone remembers anyway?
Wonderful. You're on a roll James. Keep it coming.