stars

 

One of my favourite painters is Dutch preacher Vincent van Gogh. ‘The Starry Night’ was one of several paintings he created while recuperating from a mental health breakdown. It depicts a night sky, with stars, moon, and the bright planet Venus, over a sleeping village. In the centre of the village, a church spire points to the heavens. We know the window from which van Gogh painted this scene. We know that the village existed only in his imagination. The spire is a visual sermon, pointing us to hope in the darkness.

In Genesis 15, we read that God came to Abram in a vision, saying, do not fear. In response, being safe in God’s presence, Abram makes himself vulnerable before God. He says, I can’t see any future. Abram pours out his pain, his hurt and anger and bitterness, that he and his wife are childless. God listens, and then invites him to step outside of his tent. Look up at the night sky, God says: count the stars in the heavens, if you can: I will give you descendants as numerous as these.

Luke records a conversation between Jesus and his apprentices, where Jesus tells them that they do not need to be afraid, for it is the good will of the Father — his way of referring to God — to establish them as a kingdom, to give them treasure in the heavens — referencing the conversation between God and Abram about descendants as numerous as the stars. Jesus expands on this nocturnal imagery, inviting his apprentices to see themselves as servants waiting through the night for their master to return, at an unknown hour. Those who wait actively will experience the master coming to them and serving them: the servants find themselves guests and the master, host. But, Jesus warns, it is also possible to fall asleep, and to experience the treasure God bestows stolen away.

Last week Jo and I were camping in a field far from much light pollution. One night, the sky was cloudless. It was extremely cold, but you could see every star visible to the naked eye. The following night there was a blanket of low-lying cloud. It was markedly warmer, but not one single star was visible. The next night, there were some clouds, and some stars visible. The difference was the conditions.

After many generations of decline, there is surprising but statistically-significant evidence to suggest a marked increase in church attendance in England and Wales since the COVID pandemic, including a three-fold increase among young women and a five-fold increase among young men. The reasons seem to be multiple and complex, as are the reasons why my own age group continues to leave the church. But the narrative of inevitable decline — the extinction of the church in this part of the world in the near future — no longer seems, well, inevitable. People are questioning the secular script, and looking for alternatives, including though by no means only in the church.

We need the Vincent van Goghs, who will point to hope, specifically in the person of Jesus, in the darkness, holding hope and despair, faith and unbelief in honest and creative tension; who will help us imagine what we do not yet see with our eyes.

The Abrams, who are honest about their pain and their falling short — what we call sin — and in bringing these things to God receive, in exchange, comfort and peace, hope, forgiveness, cleansing for shame, renewed identity and purpose.

The apprentices, who prepare to receive Jesus turning-up in the face of the stranger, and in particular generations who have been estranged from the church.