Holiness rooted in the heart
Michael Reeves
The difference between an evangelical and a non-evangelical understanding of holiness can be seen well in a difference between the 17th-century Puritans and their contemporaries, the high-church Caroline Divines. Perhaps the most influential of the Carolines was William Laud (1573–1645), Charles I’s Archbishop of Canterbury.
Laud loved what he called “the beauty of holiness”, by which he meant liturgical orderliness. He strictly insisted that the clergy must follow all the rubrics of the Church of England’s prayer book, and was deeply concerned with clergy attire and the maintenance of church buildings and their physical beauty. And it was a particular sort of building he preferred: despising the Reformation – or “Deformation,” as he called it – he preferred new churches to be built in the pre-Reformation, Gothic style, with an architectural emphasis on an altar instead of a Communion table. For, he said, “the altar is the greatest place of God’s residence upon earth, greater than the pulpit; for there ’tis Hoc est corpus meum, This is my body; but in the other it is at most but Hoc est verbum meum, This is my word.”
Immigration: who is shaping our response?
I’ve been reflecting on a moment in Luke 7. A woman comes to Jesus with an alabaster jar of costly perfume. She breaks it and pours it all at His feet. The disciples complain about the “waste,” but she holds nothing back. She doesn’t compartmentalise Jesus; He is everything.
That story has been on my mind as the UK wrestles with a heated immigration debate once again.