Redeeming a Nation (Timeless Teaching)

by Philip Quenby

  Conclusion.

  The growth of Christian influence in the Roman Empire is one of the most remarkable stories in all of human history. It is almost literally incredible that a small and persecuted group could have overcome the might of Rome, not by force of arms but by the power of an idea. That this was achieved by an idea that flew in the face of all that the pagan world stood for makes the story more extraordinary still. Yet such was the extent of Christian influence that in AD 313 Emperor Constantine signed the Edict of Milan, which extended tolerance to Christians throughout the Empire and began the Christianising of the Roman state itself.

  There are many reasons for the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, but one thing is clear: a Christian Rome was bound ultimately to collapse under the weight of its own contradictions or become something fundamentally different from the Rome of old, for the contrast between the attitude of Seneca and the things that Jesus said and did could not be starker. Time and again we read of Jesus having compassion on the people who came to him: Matthew 9:36, 14:14, 15:32 and 20:34; Mark 1:41, 6:34 and 8:2; Luke 15:20. His teachings are full of compassion – there are blessings in the Beatitudes for those in mourning, those who hunger and thirst and for the merciful – and his actions were full of compassion, both in his healing ministry and ultimately through his death on the cross. Thus were fulfilled words spoken by and through the prophet Isaiah: “He who has compassion on them will guide them and lead them beside springs of water” (Isaiah 49:10); “’with deep compassion I will bring you back ... I will have compassion on you,’ says the LORD your Redeemer.” (Isaiah 54:7-8).

  The gulf between the values of our society and those of the pagan world is a measure of how our sensibilities have been shaped by Christianity. It affirms the central role that this faith has played in the formation of England. It is fundamental to understanding the wellsprings of our nation, because ideas shape societies and societies shape those who live in them. From William Wilberforce seeking the abolition of slavery to Elizabeth Fry championing prison reform, the history of England is full of Christian compassion in action transforming individuals, the nation and even the world. Of course, those whose names have come down to us through history were generally exceptional people and most of us feel anything but exceptional. Yet we should never underestimate the difference that the smallest of contributions can make.

  Compassion is one of the centrepieces of God’s standards. That is why we are called to offer it to others. Christian compassion has been behind much of what is greatest and most truly memorable in the life of this land. It is up to us to make sure that we continue to make it so. Never again must we live in a country or in a world where educated men and women treat compassion as a moral defect.

  2. Beginnings

  Isaiah 9:1-7.

  Key word: truth.

  The last legions were withdrawn from the province of Britannia in AD 410 to defend Rome from the Goths. They left behind the infrastructure of some three and a half centuries of occupation and a highly Romanised elite. For all its outward sophistication, however, this Romano-British world was fragile within and without. Soon, the rich pickings it offered were attracting barbarian adventurers from across the seas. Amongst those who terrorised the coasts were tribes from northern Germany and southern Denmark: Angles, Saxons and Jutes. Their names are preserved in English regions and counties such as East Anglia, Sussex (land of the south Saxons) and Essex (land of the east Saxons). England herself is Engla-lond, land of the Angles.

  In common with their former masters, Britons sought to divide and rule by paying one group of enemies to fight another. Thus was a Jute war-band led by Hengist and his brother Horsa invited to settle in Kent, to serve as mercenaries in defending Britannia against incursions by the Picts.[3] In AD 449 these Jutes landed at Ebbsfleet on the Isle of Thanet and in due course helped their masters to a great victory over the raiders from the north. Yet within a short while employer and employee came to blows. In the ensuing conflict Horsa was killed,[4] but in AD 455 his people were victorious at the battle of Aylesford. So tradition has it that the English conquest began. It was bloody and bitter. In contrast to barbarian conquerors in continental Europe, the newcomers seem to have conducted a campaign of what we would now call ethnic cleansing, dispossessing and driving back the people they overcame. The invaders were pagans. They were pitiless.

  They remained so until the coming of St Augustine in AD 589 and their subsequent conversion to Christianity. The arrival of the missionary from Rome was attended by strange correspondences and coincidences. He landed at the very spot at Ebbsfleet where Hengist and Horsa had disembarked one hundred and forty years earlier. Augustine was sent by Pope Gregory the Great, who some time before had seen fair-haired slaves for sale in Rome and had asked where they came from. On being told that they were Angles from Deira, he replied: “Not Angles, but angels,” and “plucked from God’s ire, and called to Christ’s mercy!”[5] When informed that the name of their king was Aella, Gregory seized on this as a good omen: “Alleluia shall be sung in Aella’s land!” he cried. So it was.

  Walking in darkness.

  Our earliest forefathers worshipped gods common to German and Scandinavian tribes: Odin (Wotan), Thor, Frey and a dozen more. The names of some were given to the days of the week: hence Thursday (Thor’s day) and Friday (Frey’s day). Like all pagan gods, these were made in the image of man, with human foibles and weaknesses. They were idols: capricious, calculating and cruel.

  The tribes which began the English conquest walked in darkness. The prophet Isaiah describes what this means: there is gloom and distress (Isaiah 9:1), darkness and the shadow of death (Isaiah 9:2), the people are burdened, like an animal under the yoke (Isaiah 9:4) and oppressed (Isaiah 9:4). The hand of God is against the people, whom he humbles (Isaiah 9:1).This is not ancient history. It is with us now, for this is the experience of all too many in our land today. Idols are not just for yesteryear. They exist at all times and in all places and they take many forms. They need not bear the name of gods: anything that usurps the place in the human heart that should be occupied by the one true God is an idol.

  In Isaiah 9 these things are together characterised as “Midian” (Isaiah 9:4), the great enemy and oppressor of Israel in the days of the judges, overcome after seven years by Deborah and Gideon (Judges 6-7).

  Breaking free.

  Isaiah tells what happens when we break free of the things that enslave us and turn in true worship to God. The contrast could not be starker: there is honour (Isaiah 9:1) instead of degradation, light and dawn (Isaiah 9:2) instead of darkness and death, a shattering of the yoke (Isaiah 9:4) instead of enslavement, enlarging, rejoicing and victory (Isaiah 9:3) instead of oppression, gloom and distress. A great harvest is brought in (Isaiah 9:3) and the enemy is plundered (Isaiah 9:3).

  The wording makes it clear that transformation of people and societies comes about at the initiative of God, not through any act on our part. Thus “a great light ... has dawned” (Isaiah 9:2), “you [God] have enlarged the nation and increased their joy” (Isaiah 9:3) and “you [God] have shattered the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor.” (Isaiah 9:4). More than that, redemption comes in spite of what we have done, not because of it: the very first word of the first verse of Isaiah 9 is ‘nevertheless’ – that is, despite all that has gone before. The High King of Heaven is not petty, mean and vindictive like the deities of the pagan world: “The LORD is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love ... as a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion” (Psalm 103:8 and 13).

  Peace and new government.

  Above all, there is peace. In fact, the English word ‘peace’ does not do justice to the wealth of meaning contained in the Hebrew word ‘shalom.’ It encompasses wholeness, health, wellbeing both spiritual and material. So great is the peace that God ushers in that “Every warrior’s boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood will be d
estined for burning, will be fuel for the fire.” (Isaiah 9:5).

  With peace comes new government (Isaiah 9:6), reflecting the character of God himself. There will be “justice and righteousness” (Isaiah 9:7). Since this new government will be the opposite of what has gone before, we may surmise that there will also be freedom, life and health, light and joy. There will be order instead of chaos and growth instead of decay: “Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end.” (Isaiah 9:7).

  The zeal of the Lord.

  These are astonishing promises. They are not made lightly. We are told that “the zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this.” (Isaiah 9:7).[6] The dictionary definition of ‘zeal’ includes “ardour, earnestness, enthusiasm, intense and eager pursuit or endeavour to attain or accomplish some object.”

  Reference elsewhere in Isaiah to the ‘zeal of the Lord’ emphasises the fact that God takes the first step in rescuing humanity from the consequences of its own sinfulness: “The LORD looked and was displeased that there was no justice. He saw that there was no-one, he was appalled that there was no-one to intervene. He put on righteousness as his breastplate, and the helmet of salvation on his head; he put on the garments of vengeance and wrapped himself in zeal as in a cloak ... The Redeemer will come to Zion, to those in Jacob who repent of their sins” (Isaiah 59:15-17 and 20). We see in these verses what is required for mankind to take hold of God’s free gift of salvation: to “repent of [our] sins” (Isaiah 59:20), to turn decisively from what is wrong and to the loving God who longs for our return.

  The Messiah.

  The means by which God brings his promises about is through the Messiah (the Christ, the anointed one). Again, the language brooks no doubt. The transformation from bad to good hinges on the word ‘for’, which introduces the coming Messiah: “for to us a child is born, to us a son is given” (Isaiah 9:6). We are told that the Messiah will be a king: “He will reign over David’s throne and over his kingdom” (Isaiah 9:7) and this king will bear four throne names: “he will be called Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9:6). His reign will be eternal: “He will reign ... from that time on and for ever.” (Isaiah 9:7).

  The throne names given to the Messiah and the description of his reign are truly extraordinary. “Wonderful Counsellor” and “Prince of Peace” might perhaps have passed in Isaiah’s day for the hyperbole expected in describing royalty. “Mighty God” and “Everlasting Father”, however, are of quite a different order altogether. Pagan nations might claim that their kings were gods or the descendants of gods, but such a thing would have been the vilest blasphemy in Israel. The specific identification of the Messiah with the divine was still an issue of contention in the time of Jesus, more than six and a half centuries after Isaiah’s death. In the prophet’s day it would have been a cause for astonishment amongst those who heard it.

  To God alone belongs that which is eternal and everlasting. There can be no mistaking the meaning of this passage: God will himself come to rule and reign amongst us and over us. For “The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14).[7]

  Harvest and plunder.

  The images of harvest and plunder that appear in Isaiah 9:3 are later used by Jesus. Harvest describes the great crop of souls that God will bring to salvation: “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.” (Matthew 9:37-38). Any soul harvested for God is a soul lost to Satan, whose house is thereby plundered: “no-one can enter a strong man’s house and carry off his possessions unless he first ties up the strong man. Then he can rob his house.” (Mark 3:27). Again, the work of God is clear: without his binding of Satan through the redemptive work of Christ on the cross, salvation for mankind would not be possible.

  When the Lord “enlarge[s] the nation” (Isaiah 9:3) he extends his own kingdom at the expense of Satan’s. We are put in mind of the physical and spiritual enlargement that is envisaged by Jabez when he prays to the Almighty: “O, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.” (1 Chronicles 4:10). God holds out the prospect of growth in all that is good and worthy: growth as individuals, growth as a church and growth as a nation, but most of all growth of the Kingdom of God itself.

  Conclusion.

  As England became Christianised, so the nature of the English conquest began to change. Campaigns of extermination and dispossession seem gradually to have given way to increased readiness to live alongside the conquered British. Christianity during this period was not yet so deeply rooted that it stopped conquest altogether, but already there appears a greater gentleness about the English than before. Seeds of growth were planted amongst this people by God, working through St Augustine and those who came after him. Through the lives of generations of godly English men and women, huge transformations have been wrought in our land and in the world. No-one could seriously claim that England has ever been a place of Christian perfection, yet our direction of travel has been clear to the present day: with much stumbling and backsliding, we have moved from darkness towards the light.

  Something has changed in the recent past. Our direction of travel has altered. Many changes have been subtle, almost imperceptible. The cumulative effect is undeniable. Our response as a nation has largely been concerned with symptoms, not the underlying cause. It is time that we looked ourselves full in the face and recognised honestly that we have taken a wrong turning.

  There is a great lie stalking our land. It says that one set of ideas is just as valid as another. It whispers that there is no objective truth and that morality is in effect merely a matter of opinion. If that were really true, there would be no basis on which to condemn murder, rape, child abuse or any other crime. Such foolishness has already cast a shadow over England. If we persist in acting as though it were true, we will once again find ourselves walking in darkness. Here is our challenge, for we risk slipping back towards paganism and idolatry. Isaiah tells us where that road leads. He tells us also how to turn from it: through Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, who “is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word.” (Hebrews 1:3).[8]

  3. Survival

  1 Samuel 22:1-5.

  Key word: action.

  Alfred, king of Wessex from 849 to 899, is the only English monarch to bear the epithet “Great.” It is a title he amply deserves, for without him there would quite simply be no England.

  In 793 Danish raiders attacked the monastery at Lindisfarne on the east coast of Northumbria, putting the defenceless monks to the sword before looting priceless manuscripts and works of art. Thereafter, Danish raids became more frequent and daring year by year. In 865 pillage turned to conquest as a large Danish army landed in Kent.[9] By 876 the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms of Northumbria, Mercia and East Anglia had been destroyed in battle and their lands settled by the rank and file of the Danish armies. Only Wessex remained outside their control. Alone of the English kingdoms, she had offered resistance stiff enough to turn the invaders’ attention elsewhere, but the respite was short. A renewed Danish assault came in 878. The Viking leader Guthrum launched a surprise attack in the depths of winter, striking deep into West Saxon territory. Alfred was caught off balance and driven with a small band of followers to seek refuge in the marshes of Athelney in Somerset.

  The king was on the run for several months, launching hit and run raids against the Danes. Then, seven weeks after Easter, he emerged from the marshes and called his people to join him. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (the great early history of the English) records that when he did so: “there came to meet him all the people of Somerset and Wiltshire and ... Hampshire, and they rejoiced to see him.” In this sparse account we see the strength of Wessex and the regard in which the people held their king. In the depths of defeat a
nd despair, they rallied to him.

  Soon afterwards, Alfred led his nation to a resounding victory at Edington, where a white horse was carved into the chalk hillside on the king’s orders after the battle.[10] In the course of the fighting, the English captured the Danes’ standard, a banner depicting a raven (representing the ravens said to attend on their war god, Odin). The spiritual symbolism was powerful. It was underlined a fortnight later when Guthrum sued for peace and agreed to be baptised. The Danes were expelled from Wessex.

  For the next eighteen years Alfred was engaged in continual warfare against the Danes, yet never again was the survival of his kingdom seriously threatened. Gradually, he began to take the offensive and to expand the areas under his control. England was kept alive and, in old age, Alfred at last enjoyed a measure of rest and security he had rarely known: the final three years of his reign were ones of peace.

  Taking refuge.

  In the marshes of Athelney, Alfred found the strength of mind and will to sustain him through a truly bleak midwinter. We have no record of what passed through the king’s mind at this time, but his suffering would have been familiar to another king from long ago and far away, a king whose words perhaps comforted and inspired Alfred as he pondered.

  Like Alfred, David had to flee for his life and seek refuge in wild places. Threatened by the jealous and unhinged king Saul, he too kept on the move lest his enemies learn of his whereabouts and seek him out. For a while, David even lived amongst the Philistines, arch enemies of the Israelites whom he had many times encountered in battle, until his position became too precarious and he again had to move on. So we are told that: “David left Gath [one of the five main Philistine cities] and escaped to the cave of Adullam.” (1 Samuel 22:1).