What is the story of the gospel that you tell?

What, for you, is the good news?

The answer to that question will be different for each one of us, because there are many different ways of being Christ-like. In fact, there are so many ways of being Christ‑like that none of us can capture the full image of Christ in our lives. Now that’s not a bad thing; that’s just a thing; that’s just reality. The full stature of Christ, to which we are being drawn, which is being unfolded for us and with us and within us, is waiting for us beyond this world. What we live by, and what we reflect, is but an imitation of Christ. It is that reflection that we offer the world; it is that reflection which is our own good news. That’s what we live for; that’s what we known for; that’s (theoretically, at least) what we are prepared to die for. It’s the insight into our souls that we offer other people. And it’s the invitation that we give to others against which they may judge us: judge our thoughts and our words and our actions and our omissions.

The ultimate vision, the goal, the destiny for every follower of Jesus can be summed in those words from John’s gospel:
 

That we may have life, and life in all its fullness.

But how does that get unpacked in your life? How do you describe that to others? Each of us have our own gifts and our own limitations; our own experiences and those things that have just not crossed our paths … it’s not our fault, it’s just that I’ve never been there, it’s just not part of my experience package. We are not seeking to re‑write the gospel new for this generation. That’s not what this is about.

What we are saying is that none of us can bear the full image of Christ here and now. But we are saying also that this is the image of Christ that I bear here and now. It’s this image, not that image.

So what is your good news?

Is it to remember Jesus? Now remembering can be understood in two different ways. Remember as the opposite of forget: I shall never forget Jesus, I shall always remember him. Or is it remember as the opposite of dismember: re-membering, putting back together the body of Christ, as we do every Sunday, week by week, as we share bread and wine together and we re‑member ourselves as the body of Christ.

Or is it something to do with Jesus the man; the invitation we have been given, the relationship he calls us into. Or is it to remember Jesus Christ, Messiah, prophet, priest, king, the anointed one. Or is it to remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead. Really dead, not some trick of the light; not some fantasy fairy tale of a stolen corpse and an empty tomb. Really dead and yet, somehow inexplicably yet totally conventionally, alive once more.

Is it to remember Jesus Christ raised from the dead, descendent of David. This is not just any old Messiah, who happens to be plying his trade. This is the Messiah, for the Messiah will be an heir of David, foretold throughout what we call the Old Testament.

Is it to remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, descendent of David? Is that your good news? Is that the way you would tell the message? Is that the purpose of your life, the guidelines by which you are open to be evaluated, judged and appraised? It wouldn’t matter if you were rich or poor, if you were driving a Porsche, a Peugeot or a pushbike; whether you were living in a house or a hovel. Those aren’t the things that matter. It’s not about what hardships you would suffer, even to the point of being chained, chained like a criminal, perhaps. If that’s the good news.

Is that the good news? Is that your gospel? It was for Paul, as we heard in that reading from the letter to Timothy:
 

Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, descendent of David. That is my gospel.

That’s what Paul was about. So what’s your good news?

For Naaman, the king of Aram’s army commander, that we encountered in the story from the Old Testament, his good news would have had something to do with dramatic signs; his good news keeps the lowly in their place and important people above them in a clear hierarchical system; his good news means dramatic things offered to important people. For he became angry and went away from that very simple challenge to go and wash in the river; he went away and said:
 

I thought that for me Elisha would surely come out (he’d sent a messenger, a servant) and stand and call upon the name of the Lord his God and wave his hand over the spot and cure the leprosy.

That was an insight into Naaman’s good news: dramatic signs and wonders, at least for important people.

For me? My good news? Well, it has something to do with an attractive invitation from Jesus Christ; that in Jesus I catch glimpses into the divine; that in Jesus I see a model of what I want to be remembered for. And that has got something to do with the equality of worth of every human being; that we are each made in the image and likeness of God, unique from one another yet inseparably linked to one another; that we are each created by love, for love, out of love; that we came from love and will be enfolded in love.

What that means as I walk the streets, or drive the car, or deal with the nineteenth interruption, is that this isn’t just a person in front of me; this is an individual of unique worth and value in the sight of God, who bears the image of their creator in their soul. That’s my understanding of the good news. Which, I hasten to add, doesn’t mean I get it right all the time! In fact I am sure there are people here today who will be able to give me time and date when I haven’t got it right. But that’s the measure to which I would open myself to be judged, evaluated and appraised.

So what’s your good news?

Hold fast to it, and live by it. For that is what you are offering to those amongst whom you live and move and have your being; and through that you are saying that this is where life can be found; and even more than that, that this has the potential for
 

life, and life in all its fullness.