The Move is dead (almost)

In my last post I pondered what makes a Christian church part of the true Church. And in a previous post I have referred to the Move with which our church has been loosely connected. There are a number of preachers who get invited to visit Move groups and one of these "travelling ministry" has recently spoken in our church here. Chatting with him, it appears that Move groups the world over are in a state of flux: that it is not just in our own group that foundations we thought had been laid good and solid are now being questioned and often torn down. And so I suppose that the end-time Move of God (to give it a fuller title) is near its end.

Am I bothered? In one sense no, and neither am I surprised, because the true Church is built on a better foundation. But I grieve for its effect on folk who have grown up under its teachings and have invested all their life, energies and funds in an edifice which is now crumbling. Personally, I do have unanswered questions but I have few regrets: I think the experience has left me stronger, wiser.

Here's one of the early Move songs. Ironically the founder of the movement was killed in a plane crash.

People of God, it is time to arise

And proclaim to creation we're not going to die.

Let it ring from the valleys and the mountains so high,

God's people proclaiming we're not going to die;

All heaven's rejoicing, now hear them all sing,

Grave, where's thy victory? O death, where's thy sting?

The saints down the centuries have all come to pass,

Each one fulfilling his God-given task;

To His sons God has spoken, and witness His cry,

And proclaim to creation we're not going to die.

The prophets of the Lord had a line that they laid,

Though they were steadfast they all died in faith,

But they spoke of a people that would one day arise,

And proclaim to creation we're not going to die.

So take courage now, brethren, and close in your ranks,

Stand on the promises, giving God thanks;

For Satan will fight us, or surely he'll try,

But he can't beat a people that aren't going to die.

Of human bondage

Somerset Maugham

I have just finished reading the book "Of human bondage" by Somerset Maugham.  It is generally agreed to be his masterpiece. The Guardian and Penguin expose some of Maugham's life story behind this partly-autobiographical work and paint a pathetic picture of a weak man without hope. And yet in so many ways I identify with his pseudonym Philip Carey in the book. I too am weak and hopelessly affected by what I think other people think. The book underlines human frailty and its dependence on fate even if, for the sake of the reader, Philip is left in a positive state as the book closes. We are left thinking that, for all his manifold failings, Philips is a good man.

Maugham's lack of foundation stands in stark contrast to "Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God..." John 13:3-5. The author and Philip, early on, express pride in freeing themselves from religious bondage, but seem to miss the point of true religion.

I come away from book book with a mixture of identity, sadness but a kind of "new year's resolution" to be different.

Incidentally the fact that I have enjoyed this somewhat long and stodgy book supports my theory that books and films and music (indeed art generally) that appeal to me are those which I can identify with in some way. The joy of sharing the appreciation of a landscape, a face, a musical transition or melody, a character trait - of the discovery that someone else in the world thinks or has experienced just a tinsy bit like I have.