This is a reprint from an article published in Worship Leader Jon Seccombe is a musician and Christian composer who has been writing Christian Worship music and carols for 4 decades and has led music in a number of Sydney churches. He trained at the NSW Conservatorium of Music & has an Honours degree in Ancient & New Testament History. Experiencing a Chinese Christmas Some years after China opened up to foreigners, I had the opportunity to visit my brother and his young family who lived in Beijing. It was Christmas time and I brought goodies with me: Christmas pudding, gifts and above all, lots of affection for these children who I saw so rarely. I don’t know really what I expected to see in Beijing but it certainly wasn’t this. Everywhere shops, restaurants and community areas were loaded with Christmas decorations and the spirit of gift giving was well and truly on display. Some of the decorations were so heavy that they threatened to pull the ceilings down. It had a distinctly Chinese atmosphere but at the same time it was so very Western. Later I did meet Chinese Christians and saw the amazing work God was doing there. However, at the time I was curious about a nation which had encountered the trappings of the season but until very recently had not legally been allowed to hear the message of Jesus. A Christian Christmas. An amazing opportunity to reach people with the best of news. My experience in China gave a new perspective about my own society. Where I had personally been taught to value Jesus as the meaning of Christmas time in a Christian household, much of my society has never encountered this great truth. I had always assumed that the acknowledging a Messiah’s birth into our world was the central purpose of Christmas Day. If I spoke to someone, I used to start from the presumption that that somehow, they would be returning to my understanding – the true meaning of Christmas. But that wasn’t so. I have realised my Australian community is very much like the Gentile one that Paul reaches out to in Acts, especially the Athenians who had no knowledge of Jesus’ birth or existence. I could not start out assuming in a slightly paternal way that non-Christians needed to respect this day and come to church and that even the government agreed with this when they made it a public holiday. In my post-Christian society, there are a great many people who know nothing about Jesus and tragically, whose sole encounter has been when His name is used as a swear word. But once a year, they go with their children to sing Christmas carols in the parks throughout the country. Some are televised events with many thousands attending, accompanied by symphony orchestras and with Australia’s most famous singers. For many it is the one time of the year they are in a place to discover Jesus. And here is such an amazing opportunity to reach out and tell them about the astonishing love of Jesus and it is where my personal experience ties in. A New Christmas Carol for Your Church Last Christmas, Australia’s No 1 rated crossover artist, the Dutch/ Australian soprano, Mirusia, known internationally for performing with Andre Rieu, encountered my carol, Christmas is Here Again. She recorded then later performed it with the Brisbane Symphony Orchestra at one of these large events. The carol was also released on a CD which had a range of popular and secular carols from other top recording Australian artists. When I wrote this carol, I wanted to try a new approach to reaching people based on my Chinese and Australian experiences. I started by including images that were completely familiar to people without a church background; stockings, candy-cane and gift-wrapping. Gradually, I drew listeners in deeper into another way of seeing Christmas, adapting some beautiful words from Reginald Heber. You may remember his hymn, Holy, Holy, Holy. Heber, the missionary bishop of Calcutta, lived 200 years ago and consequently some of his images no longer connect for people today. One case in point was, ‘odours of Edom’ for which I substituted the more recognisable, ‘perfumes of Paris.’ Through this I was able to subtly introduce audiences to the Jesus who was born with the specific purpose of giving them the gift of life. A life-long friend and artist, Lee Byrne created a stunning sand art narrative to go with the carol so that it can be played in churches and secular concerts and reinforce this crucial biblical message. It is specifically designed to attract children. If you would like to play it for your church at Christmas, you can see the carol here: The real spirit of Christmas So much about our contemporary Christmas is wonderful and should not be discounted. There is a spirit of generosity and excitement in the air and a desire to rebuild family relationships. People who have been caught up in the concerns of daily life catch the sense of a need to look outwards and to consider others. (Part of the Dickensian Christmas revolution.) It is the one time of the year when briefly, bad news can be put aside. As holidays approach there is the time to reflect on what the past year has been like: perhaps hectic, perhaps unsuccessful. Yes, there are things which can be condemned. The overt commercialism is an obvious example and it is easy to become cynical about it. However, if we become negative and defensive about the lack of focus on Jesus at this time then it may well blind us to the opportunities we have to talk to others about the wonderful Christmas story in the carols we sing. And follow it with the even-better Easter story. If you would like some other beautiful new carols that your congregation can sing, I’d suggest Rise we Now or Child in The Manger. Sheet Music and further blogs on

(This is a reprint from an article published in ETERNITY MAGAZINE) by Jon Recently I was blessed to see Da Vinci’s painting of the Last Supper based on the gospel of John. It has gone through difficult times: the paint was experimental and hasn’t lasted well and it has been badly affected by poor restorations. During WWII most of the buildings where it was situated were reduced to rubble. It seems that even the survival of the painting has been a miracle. Yet to the casual observer or historian, the original event on which it is based is an even greater miracle: that a small group of people meeting for a meal would change the history of the world and become the pattern for a ceremony that would touch every corner of the planet. How odd this success might seem given the uproar and chaos that appeared to be governing what should have been a calm and relatively straightforward dinner that was taking place in most other Jewish households at this moment. Da Vinci’s picture is a strange one for two reasons. Firstly, all of the participants are seated on one side of the table. Secondly, as described, there is great consternation and animation amongst the diners. This repast was not a tranquil and respectful gathering, remembering when God rescued His people out of Egypt. I have been to a shabbat dinner and worked in a Jewish environment, so can confirm that Passover meals are generally far more sedate. Certainly, the Last Supper was not the kind of meal that I would have signed up for. In explanation of the first strange aspect, Da Vinci painted this picture (based on John’s gospel) so that an audience would feel like participants in the event. When it later became a refectory, that is a dining hall for the monks of the attached church, they were meant to feel as if they were eating with the apostles and Jesus. This unravels the first mystery and explains why the disciples were all on one side of the table as the leading guests at a wedding reception are in our society. The picture encouraged the monks to feel that they were very much part of a heavenly banquet and that each time they ate, they did so as part of God’s kingdom, having a direct link with Jesus’ first followers who sat at the higher table. This is a truly amazing thought: here were the disciples dining with the God of the universe! What an unbelievable privilege! But this is not how the disciples are feeling. Instead, they are greatly upset, as they have had a terrible and unsettling accusation made by Jesus against them: one of their number is a traitor and they are in an uproar. The Passover lamb; the blood painted on the doors; the miraculous rescue from the plagues have all been forgotten in their angst. There is more than one traitor in this midst. With the benefit of hindsight, we can quickly identify the traitor where the disciples couldn’t: our gaze is directed towards Judas, who sells his leader for a handful of coins, a pitifully small amount for the God who was about to provide a ransom that the world with all its wealth couldn’t afford. Yet Da Vinci was an insightful artist: he knows that there is more than one traitor in this midst. Before the weekend is finished, Peter will deny even knowing Jesus and the others will all flee – a physical demonstration that they don’t want to be identified with Jesus. I wonder at what point over the next few days these blustering, self-justifying men reached the point of profound understanding and acknowledgement of their personal betrayal, where the attitudes on display at the supper changed radically. “Is it me? I certainly couldn’t betray you!” is the prevailing attitude recorded in John’s gospel. How easily Jesus could see through all of his disciples. Yes, it’s very easy to point the figure at Judas at this table, as many have over the centuries. It’s much harder for me to point the finger at myself. I wonder, if I were sitting at that table, how I would be reacting. At the core of my being there is fear of being found out as a fraud. I would like to pretend to Jesus that I was a good mate and that I couldn’t possibly betray his trust; in fact, that I could be recognised for my good qualities and hopefully be high in his esteem. That’s what I would like others to see about me anyway. How easily Jesus could see through all of his disciples though. They loved him (how could you not?), but we know from previous behaviours that they had never really understood. When they ask for places of privilege in God’s kingdom, they are as far from understanding repentance as anyone. But at some point – as my song suggests – they, and I, and all of us must confront the awful reality that we are terribly flawed and don’t deserve to be at the table, let alone have any special place. I cannot point the finger at anyone else when I am really a disaster. It is reallyI! Only then will I stop condemning others and pointing fingers and be ready to receive forgiveness. At some point, I must collapse and admit to God what I really am: perhaps even crawl to God on my hands and knees; face the fact that my heart and innate desires are desperately sinful and deceptive, always wanting the wrong things, and that all my actions have been seeking to protect myself or promote my place in the world or maybe have even been stupidly justifying why I have a right to a seat at the table with God. Every waking moment must be based on this reality: that God has persevered with me even though I am prone to self-deceit. Then I am reduced to