A troubling incident this morning. Apart from a couple of spots, I accomplished my whole morning walk today without getting rained on. Then I got in and doffed my boots and cag, and came into our main room. When I got in, I could see that it was pouring. I was lucky. Some people would say I was blessed. But I can’t have that. Think of all the people in this village* who got in ten minutes later – are they cursed? What about me tomorrow, or yesterday? It’s a trivial example, but it gets more serious. How is it decided who gets cancer? Is wealth a sign that God has blessed you – or is it a sign that you are a more ruthless operator? Is your national success in wiping out the indigenous peoples and occupying the land a sign of God’s special favour? As soon as I say the word ‘blessed’, I feel as if there’s something unfair going on.
And yet I am blessed. My Creator has given me life and breath and the ability to fix some of people’s hurts listed above. If I serve God, I can prosper in that enterprise. Jesus has put a new spin on the word: not the wealthy, but the poor are blessed in the kingdom of God.
And I can see fragments of real faith even in the ‘prosperity gospel’. If you are working some desolate, dust-dry farm in the American midwest, of course you’re going to pray, you’re going to have that kind of faith that’s close to despair, which Jesus sometimes seems to hold up as an example…. similarly if your life takes on the bleak colours experienced by someone poor and living in west Africa.
* I don’t know what to call it – it’s quite populous – it has the lion’s share of two council wards. It has a railway station (terminus no less!). It never had a market. It has a big garment warehouse and various other industrial bits. It has a few shops which are enough for day-to-day needs.