The current Charismatic claim (but only since the particular flavour of that theology that came in with John Wimber in the 1980s) is that God speaks to us during prayer if we listen hard enough. My response, so far unrefuted, is that nothing in Scripture teaches this (and what is not in Scripture is, of course, unscriptural teaching). But the justification for it is that Scripture may have been jolly good for “then,” but we need to hear God’s word for now.
This, of course, is a false comparison – otherwise the Bible would have advocated listening out for God’s voice rather than studying and meditating on Scripture, n’est ce pas? Here’s a different analogy that I think is more accurate. I’ve met just a few of my heroes, whom regular readers may not be surprised to hear have primarily been musicians. But the same observations will be true if your love is great literature, great art, great science, great generalship or anything else.
They say you should never meet your heroes, but I’ve not been disillusioned as such by any of my brief encounters, but neither have I been enlightened. The reason is obvious: to be a great artist is not the same as to be a great conversationalist.
I met the late great acoustic guitarist Bert Jansch once, when I was buying a guitar from the shop he then had in Fulham. His girlfriend was doing the sales, but he came in from the pub as I was trying out all the famous stock, and offered me a cup of coffee. That was very nice, and has remained an occasional conversation starter. But what I admire about Jansch I heard on records and in live performances, not through meeting him. Even his biography by Colin Harper was more interesting to me in the fact that I appeared briefly in it (regarding that very purchase), than for the psychology and circumstances behind Jansch’s music. It’s the music that reveals the man.
The same is true of Gentle Giant’s keyboard player Kerry Minnear. I’m a huge fan of Gentle Giant, and love not only Kerry’s inspired keyboard playing, but his “madrigal style” tenor voice, unique in rock music, and even more his song-writing and arranging genius. His music is both complex and beautiful, and (like much of the best “progressive” rock) provides new delights and insights even fifty years after first hearing.
A friend of mine was once playing in a worship band with Kerry, years after the glory days, and I got the chance to meet him, and to say the inevitable, “I love what you did with Gentle Giant.”
His shy reply was, “A lot of it was a bit weird, wasn’t it?” Since then, the original band has gained something of a cult status, with German or Danish groups of music students striving to perform versions of the complex arrangements, souvenir boxed sets and Steven Wilson remixes. Kerry Minnear has become something of a curator of the band’s heritage.
Yet, even in extended interviews he comes across as self-effacing to the point of appearing to lack any confidence in his own contribution to music. This is admirable as the Christian virtue of meekness (he is a believer and still plays in his local church band). But I would suggest that if you want to appreciate his greatness, you should listen to the albums, or watch the videos, rather than meeting him for lunch, pleasant as I’m sure that would be. I suppose you might get really lucky and collaborate musically with him (or any other hero of your choice), but that too would be to gain from the music, not the conversational small-talk.
Now, the Bible is not only the record of God’s work on earth. Not only is it the revealer of the character of Christ our Lord from Genesis to Revelation. Not only is it “able to make us wise unto salvation,” and “God-breathed,” and hence “useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.” Not only is it a “lamp unto our feet,” making us “wiser than our enemies,” “more insightful than our teachers,” and “more understanding than the elders,” but it is “living and active, sharper than a two edged sword, dividing soul and spirit.” And more.
Like great art, literature, music, or science, or philosophy, the word of God transforms us into the likeness of its author as we immerse ourselves in it. The meaning goes beyond the surface of the words both in the manner of its composition, and the divine interpretation in our hearts by the Holy Spirit.
Unlike Bert Jansch, Kerry Minnear, Beethoven, Leonardo da Vinci or Thomas Aquinas, winning the prize of a lunch with Jesus would be more than simply an experience with a possibly inarticulate speaker to tell your grandchildren. But anything even he could communicate in words over a pizza – or after a time of private prayer – would be, shall we say, severely limited.
In reality, since Scripture does not promise verbal communication from God in prayer, the words you hear in your head are a lot more likely to come from your own imagination than from the Lord. When God speaks through a prophet, “I feel the Lord may be saying…” doesn’t come into it. And to judge by the “words” that Charismatics say they get from God, they would be a lot better off spiritually by meditating on a psalm or striving to understand a parable of Jesus.
In fact, if God’s written word doesn’t appeal to them they’d possibly be as blessed chatting with Bert Jansch, even after one of his renowned liquid lunches at the pub.
