Encountering Jesus III

Christmas Day was the beginning of the end. We don't like to think of it that way, but Jesus' coming was a catalyzing event that would ultimately divide the entire world into two opposing camps. 

What do we do about Jesus? The Gospel of John is all about the reactions of people as they encounter Him for the first time. John contains several discourses, during which Jesus explains Himself; the first was to Nicodemus. 

In John 3:14-21, Jesus says to Nicodemus, "Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because he has not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son. This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God.”

I find John 3:16 so much more interesting in context. And I find this passage very challenging in light of Christmas. A few days ago I wrote about light, and quoted Isaiah 9:2: "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light." Jesus tells Nicodemus, "Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of the light . . ."

What do you do about Jesus? It's more than just an intellectual question; it's a choice whether to live or die. Ever since the creation of the world, all of history has been about the mighty cosmic struggle for control of the souls of men. Jesus's birth was the point where victory became inevitable for those who love God. 

The evil that we live with is Satan's desperate attempt to stave off disaster. Our own encounter with Jesus will determine whether or not we go down with Him.

Jesus came once, and died. He will come again, and rule. So this question is one everyone on earth will answer, no matter how they try to avoid it now.

Encountering Jesus II

What do you do about Jesus? The shepherds went to worship him, and then returned to their work filled with gratitude.

Herod had a different reaction. Matthew 2:13 says, "When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. 'Get up,' he said, 'take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.'"

To Herod, Jesus was a threat. Herod wasn't going to let anyone else rule; the news of a newborn king made him furious. His solution was to kill the baby; when the magi failed to return to tell him which one, he killed them all.

There are a lot of people today who see Jesus as a threat. Some are outright sinners: pornographers and gamblers and addicts who can't acknowledge Jesus because they don't want to give up their sin. Some want control of their own lives, and can't let Jesus be Jesus because that would make him their Lord. Some want to live in ways that, while legal, are immoral; for them, Jesus and His followers are an external guilty conscience that won't let them have their fun.

They can't kill Jesus, so they attack Him in other ways. They try to banish Him from public life. They try to prove scientifically that He doesn't exist. They mock and marginalize His followers, as if He only has power if we do.

That all seems ridiculous, until I look at my own life. Are there times that I set Jesus aside? Are there times I leave Him behind? If so, why?

What do you do about Jesus? His birth, and death, demands an answer every day.

Encountering Jesus I

The Christmas story raises one question that everyone in the whole world needs to resolve: What do you do with Jesus?

The shepherds had to decide. They heard the choir, they went to see the child, and then what? Luke 2:17-20 tells us,  "When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told."

The first thing they did was spread the word. They told people, a lot of people. And the story they told amazed everyone who heard it.

The second thing they did was go back to their lives. They returned to the flock and fields, and resumed their jobs guarding and nurturing the sheep.

But notice how they did it: Glorifying and praising God. The same lives, lived now in the sense that a momentous change had taken place. Sheep herding was a little different now, because they had been given a glimpse of God at work, by God himself. Of all the merchants and religious leaders and tradesmen who could have been the ones, it was the shepherds to whom God revealed the baby Jesus.

What do you do with Jesus? That's one good choice, and it's the one the magi took too, as did Simeon and Anna.

It wouldn't be a bad one for us either. Spread the word. And get back to work, doing all those things that people depend on you for, but with a spirit of gratitude. I guess in their own way the shepherds were wise men too.

No More Darkness

Luke 2:6-7 "While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger. . . ."

Hallelujah! Jesus is born.

This is the season of parties and presents and special services and family get-togethers, and those are great ways to celebrate. But to me, the very best way to mark the season is with lights. I'm partial to white ones, or candle light, but light is what it's all about.

My favorite Christmas verse is Isaiah 9:2 "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned."

Only Jesus knows the darkness of my heart, and the dark places my wayward feet have taken me. Only He sees the dark smears all over my soul. And the amazing thing is that He not only cared so much that He endured that miserable manger, but He also cares less than anyone else. He loves me anyway.

So on Christmas morning, I'll be in church singing "Joy to the World," but I'll be looking at the Advent candles and thinking, as I do every year, that a Light has dawned.

And then I think about what the angel (hmmm . . . could it possibly have been Gabriel?) showed the apostle John about our ultimate destination: "I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple. The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it. On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there." (Revelation 21:22-25).

Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly. I see the light dawning, and I can't wait for full noon.

No room

There was no room in the inn, Luke 2 tells us.

Too many people in Bethlehem, and maybe only one inn. So there they are, 100 miles later, Mary as pregnant as you can get, sitting in the straw in a stall. We remember the innkeeper as a decent man, who did the best he could, and the best he could do was the barn.

And of course, we draw the obvious conclusion every year and talk about making room for Jesus in our hearts. Good point, but I'm wondering about other things.

A friend of mine (never actually met him, but we've spoken on the phone and talk online almost daily) had a serious car crash a few weeks ago. He'll recover, but he has big bills. He evidently has spoken of me enough that his friends and family decided to contact me. He's a great guy, leads a church, helps a lot of people. I want to help him. But I want to help my brother too, and we support a guy at a camp in Colorado and a Compassion child and the missionaries of our church.

All good things, all part of God's work. So how much room does Jesus get in my wallet?

And I have all kinds of electronic ways to manage my time. I use Google Calendar to keep family informed of my schedule, and my Outlook calendar syncs with my new Android phone. At regular intervals through the day my phone vibrates or my computer dings to let me know the next thing I have to be at. Yet some things are conspicously absent. No colored spaceholder for devotions. No reminders to pray. No prompting to praise or ponder or plead.

So how much room does Jesus get in my day planner?

Metaphorically speaking, right now when it comes to time and money, do I give Jesus the barn, or a hotel room? Or do I take Him home, give Him the master bedroom, let him use the kitchen, pick the TV channel, actually live with me like family?

The heart's the easy part. Giving Him due space in my life gets a lot harder. But it's an axiom of detective work that if you want to know what someone's into, get a look at their checkbook and their calender and you'll soon know their loyalties. Without me there to explain a lot of things, I don't think either of mine screams "JESUS IS LORD."

Pledged

I'm still thinking about that trek Joseph took with Mary, from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Yesterday, I wondered at how difficult it must have been. Today I'm again impressed that Joseph did it at all. Because I'm thinking about the word "pledged."

Luke 2:5 "He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child."

Does that mean they weren't yet married? I suppose a wedding vow is also a pledge, but our understanding of the term would be more like engaged. I don't know which is more accurate, and I'm told that Jewish weddings of the time were a lot more drawn out, with nuanced stages, so that we don't really have the right words for all of it. But in this passage, it makes me think maybe Joseph had an option: if he wasn't married yet, couldn't Mary be enrolled back at home? 

Those are idle wonderings until I get to the other thought that this word prompts: Joseph made a promise, and he carried it out. No matter the pregnancy that he had no part of, no matter the difficulty of dragging an incapacitated woman halfway across the country. Joseph promised Mary he'd be her husband, and circumstances won't change that. Maybe he needed a little help from the angel to see his course, but once he saw it, he didn't waver.

As I wait for Jesus, I'm struck by all the commitments I've made - to wife, to church, to God - that I have yet to carry out. There are a lot of reasons, some good and some bad, but the fact remains that there are some things I still need to follow through on. 

Wo knew that part of Advent would be to reflect and re-commit to things I said more than three decades ago at my profession of faith? Yet somehow, as I consider Joseph's active faithfulness to his pledge, I'm drawn to think of my pledge to the baby Joseph so carefully nurtured.

David

Luke 2:4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David.

Caesar Augustus did his task - out of vanity or a desire to control or just simple curiosity, he ordered the census. The un-named angel did his job - he convinced Joseph to remain committed to Mary. The outcome of all of this is that Joseph puts Mary on a donkey and trudges from Nazareth to Bethlehem.

Ever wonder why God did it that way? We're not sure exactly where the roads ran, but the distance was likely close to 100 miles. With a pregnant woman, it probably took a week or so. A week on a donkey, within days of delivering? That must have been really hard for Mary, and it can't have been easy for Joseph either. Surely there was a manger and some shepherds in Nazareth, and as far as the magi had to come, another 100 miles wouldn't have been that big a deal. Why did God plan it this way?

I don't know. Maybe it was to spare Nazareth from Herod for some reason. Maybe it was God's graciousness to one particular shepherd or innkeeper whose life was changed. We know it was to fulfill prophecy, but God could have prophesied anything. 

It just reminds me that, although God doesn't make our lives harder for no reason at all, He won't hesitate to make us do something hard. If a tough assignment serves Him best, or serves someone else who needs it, or helps us grow, then that's what we'll get. 

Following Jesus will be rewarding, and we'll be blessed and will prosper as God defines the term, but we should never expect it to be easy. 

Used

As much as I agree that good Christian leaders for our country would be nice, I sometimes get uneasy about the way we pursue that goal. Actually, I wonder to what extent God thinks it's important. 

In Jesus day, the Roman Caesar was possibly the most powerful man on earth. He didn't honor the Jewish God, but that didn't make any difference to God. Caesar did what God wanted anyway: Luke 2:1 "In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. 2 (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) 3 And everyone went to his own town to register."

We see it over and over again in scripture: the Assyrians, the Edomites, the Babylonians, all used by God for His ends.

Caesar only matters in the Christmas story for the effect he has on Mary and Joseph. Caesar sent them to Bethlehem, and Caesar's decree filled the inns. Thus, the baby would be born exactly as God had planned.

I think as we wait for Jesus to come, God would probably tell us to tend to hearts, not nations. You can't legislate faith; even if every executive and lawmaker in government was a Christian, that wouldn't make us a Christian nation. Jesus rules hearts, not political organizations.

When people come to know Jesus, they voluntarily do all the things we want to legislate now. If enough of us know Jesus, the law becomes irrelevant.

And it doesn't really matter who's leading; no president or Congressman can thwart the will of God. Sometimes God will give us Godly leaders to bless us. Sometimes He'll give us unbelieving leaders for His own purposes. Either way, we live obediently, and those men and women will do God's will. They can't do anything else.

Some day, every knee will bow to the One who once lay in a manger. It won't matter a bit what they believed the moment before; in the end we'll all Tebow.

Waiting

Simeon seems to me to set one of those examples that are just impossible to follow. 

Luke 2:25 Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. 26 It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Christ.

The great task of Simeon's life was to wait. He probably did a lot of other things in his life, but waiting is the only thing he did that God wanted us to know about. His job was to show us how.

So the first thing I notice is that Simeon was righteous and devout. That makes me think of all the people I know who want to sow their wild oats, or who plan to settle down some day. Their reasoning seems to be that there's enough time for righteous living later on; after all, as long as you make your peace with God on your deathbed you'll be OK, right? 

But Simeon's example suggests that part of waiting is living faithfully to the thing you're waiting for. It's the same idea as waiting for marriage, instead of saying you'll be good once you're married. Simeon waited his whole life, which he lived as though he was in the presence of the Messiah the whole time.

The second thing I notice is what Simeon was actually waiting for: The consolation of Israel. Unlike those who wanted the Messiah to come and restore political power to the religious elite by booting out the Romans, Simeon wanted relief for the anguish of the people. Simeon isn't looking for power and a palace. Simeon is waiting for the One who would heal the relationship between God's chosen people and God.

Finally, notice that Simeon waits in complete confidence. He knows he'll see the Messiah; God said so.

That's my model as I wait for Jesus: Live faithfully to Him even before he gets here. Want Him to come for the same reasons He wants to come. And wait without doubt. That's not the passive waiting we're used to; no playing Angry Birds just to kill time. There's a lot of work in waiting.

Obedient

I say it all the time at the plant: "It's not what you can do, it's what you do." An experienced paint maker who doesn't make much paint doesn't do me much good. I have come to really value employees who show up every day on time and do what they're asked to do. Obedience has a lot of value.

That's why, despite the little bit that we actually know of Joseph, I like him. He seems like a good guy who's really trying to live right. And he's obedient: "When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he had no union with her until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus." Matthew 1:24-25.

Think about it: Joseph went to bed with a plan. He woke up and did the opposite. He didn't waffle (that we know of), didn't try to cut corners. In fact, he not only married Mary as he was told, but he abstained from the physical benefits for quite a while. Joseph put his own plans and desires under God's. He not only did what he was told, he did the best he could.

In comparison, I'm not all that impressed with myself. I tend to obey on my own terms. Blackaby says that whenever I see God at work, that's His invitation for me to join it, yet I still decide what I want to do and what I'll pass up. I decide the terms of my involvement; do I have to go to every choir practice, or every council meeting? In the end, my service can be pretty self-serving.

I also am selective as to how I use my gifts. There are all kinds of things I can do: sing, pray, preach, teach, rake, paint . . . But it's not what you can do, it's what you do.

No Fear

I've commented on this before, but I'm always struck at how frequently God tells his people not to be afraid. We're not nearly as tough as we want people to think we are, I guess.

And it's interesting to think about the kinds of things we're afraid of. 

In Matthew 1:20-21, I read this: "But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, 'Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.'"

Joseph evidently was having more than second thoughts about Mary. There was something in the situation that made him afraid, and it was probably the obvious. He likely feared the impact on his reputation. After all, people would talk; either they would think he, Joseph, had jumped the gun, so to speak, or that he had been cheated on. 

For a Jew of the day, that was a bigger deal than just getting laughed at, or scorned. It might harm his business; if there was a more devout competitor, the people of Nazareth might shun him. It also might disqualify him from participating in religious discussions at the temple, or political discussions at the city gate.

What Joseph probably feared was loss of his position in the community. He feared not being able to be Joseph any more.

That's a pretty substantial fear, but God's angel (hmmm . . . Gabriel?) says don't be afraid. Take your bride. Notice he doesn't say, "Don't worry, no one will laugh. I'll protect your reputation." He simply says, "There are amazing blessings in store for you in return for doing this hard thing." Possibly God did also guard Joseph's standing in Nazareth, but scripture doesn't tell us that so it's not the point. The point is, God asked obedience, and in return promised blessing.

That's one of the hardest things for me to do: To trust that any blessing other than the one I already have my sights set on will be good for me. Yet my vision is so limited; God's blessing for me has to be the best possible blessing. If only I didn't fear the loss of control. If only I didn't fear the sacrifice of earthly things.

"Do not be afraid . . ."

A Righteous Man

Matthew 1:18 This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. 19 Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.

It's interesting to me that God made sure Jesus' earthly father was a righteous man. After all, Jesus was God; a bad parent wasn't going to mess Him up. And you could argue that living in a dysfunctional home would make it easier for some to identify with Him.

But God gave Jesus a righteous father, as he did with so many of us. And righteousness produces fruit.

In the context of Matthew 1, the fruit is courtesy, respectfulness. Even though he has reason to think Mary had been a false partner, Joseph wants to treat her well. He doesn't want to harm her; he simply is acknowledging, regretfully, that she will not be a good mate for a righteous man. Remember, even though the word divorce is used, they may not have been wed yet in the sense we think of it.

Jospeh's behavior is striking in contrast with our world. We live in a get-even society. If someone hurts us,  we want to cause a little pain ourselves. I've never observed the break-up of a relationship where that was not true; both parties try to hurt the other. But even in our day to day lives, we so often let someone else's behavior toward us justify things that we know are not Christlike.

Do we really believe that the presence of sin in this world justifies our own sin? Aren't we called to live differently, to be pure even in the face of everything a sinful world throws at us? That would be righteous behavior. 

What should we do?

Despite John the Baptist's flame-throwing rhetoric, the crowds respond. They dread the idea that the long-awaited Messiah might find them lacking. So they ask the question that we all should ask when confronting the reality that our lives might not please Jesus: "What should we do?" 

I think John's answer is fascinating.

Luke 3:10 “What should we do then?” the crowd asked. 11 John answered, “The man with two tunics should share with him who has none, and the one who has food should do the same.” 12 Tax collectors also came to be baptized. “Teacher,” they asked, “what should we do?” 13 “Don’t collect any more than you are required to,” he told them. 14 Then some soldiers asked him, “And what should we do?” He replied, “Don’t extort money and don’t accuse people falsely –be content with your pay.”

Missing are some interesting things we might expect John to say. "Go be a missionary in A. . . frica. Start a ministry. Spend your days in devotional meditation." These are the lives that we think of as pleasing God, the years spent on the mission field, or the days spent helping the needy, or the sequestered holiness of the abbey.

But John doesn't tell the people to change what they're currently doing, he just says they need to change how they do it. Instead of piling up stuff, share what you have. Instead of looking for advantage in business, want only what's fair. Instead of using your power to get more, be satisfied with the blessings God gives you.

Be good, John says. Be loving. Help. Serve. Be kind. 

That kind of living pleases God. If we do that, all the time acknowledging God's providence, putting our faith in Jesus' sacrifice, and listening carefully to the Holy Spirit, our lives will please Jesus. 

Vipers

It seems like we've entertained a fairly constant stream of guests lately, with more to come. Standard procedure: clean sheets, clean floors, clean bathroom, grocery shopping, cooking and baking.

Sometimes standard procedure has to be modified. For example, when Dawn's folks come for dinner, in addition to cleaning and cooking, we remove evidence of those parts of my character that embarrass my wife. That comes down to hiding my computer gaming (there, now that I've outed myself . . . .)

When John announced the coming of Jesus, he didn't say, "Get ready! Go home and clean your house." Listen to this from Luke 3:7-9: John said to the crowds coming out to be baptized by him, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire."

You have to understand a couple of things about Israelites of that day and vipers. First, it was commonly thought that vipers were born by eating their way out of their mother's belly; vipers were mean. Second, when a field would become infested with vipers, common practice in the off season was to burn the field and kill or drive out the vipers.

So John's message to prepare the people for Jesus was something like this: "You guys are so ornery and low-down you don't care about your own mothers, and you're going to pay for it! Who warned you to get out before the field burns?"

Not exactly a winning message, but it was a spiritual version of my wife's prohibition against playing a Medal of Honor where her folks can see it. John knew that Jesus was coming not to visit homes, but to win hearts. It was the lives of the people that needed attention, not their houses.

The Messiah was coming to make everything right, and restore the people to God. That called for the ultimate clean-up: Repentance.

Camel hair

 My sister Judy made an interesting comment a week or so ago. She's an artist, among many other accomplishments, and she said she always looks for the arts in scripture. Music and art and literature are easy to find, but she was always disappointed that she couldn't find drama.

Then, she said, it dawned on her that the prophets were God's use of drama. She's right. The prophets often acted in attention-grabbing (OK, maybe bizarre) ways that dramatized sin and God's reaction to it, in order to make people think.

I thought of that again today as I read in Mark about John the Baptist. "And so John came, baptizing in the desert region and preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to him. Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River. John wore clothing made of camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. And this was his message: 'After me will come one more powerful than I, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.'" (Mark 1:4-8).

When Mark writes "camel hair," I don't think he means an expensive blazer. It would have been a rough, woven, scratchy garment, and it probably didn't look real great. John may not have been the only guy to wear camel hair, but it seems a safe bet that most of the wealthy religious establishment didn't.

And when John ate locusts and wild honey, that connotes to me a couple of things. First, it was a basic natural diet of proteins and sugars, but simple foods - kind of like Daniel and his friends ate. It makes me think of a pure, wholesome way of eating. Second, a lot of people probably turned their noses up at locusts, even though nutritionists assure us they're great sustenance.

So when I observe John's behavior and wonder about it, here's what I come up with: John acted distinctively different than the culture around him, a counterpoint to the Israelites who had compromised the faith of their religion in favor of forms that let them feel pious while still indulging themselves.

He's there to proclaim the coming Messiah, and he's getting all ready to call them to repentance and obedience. Anyone looking at him would see backing for that message. His life screamed, "All you need are the basics of life; after that you shouldn't concern yourself with the things of this world." It's a great prequel to the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus will say, "Look at the birds and flowers. They want for nothing; can't you trust me to care for you in the same way?" (Greg Standard Paraphrase Version).

That's what art is - it's holding up some aspect of life, or our behavior, in a way that makes us look at it anew. John the Baptist's desert performance was dramatic art.

Sent

John 1:6-9 "There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe. He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light. The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world."

John's life purpose was pretty clear. He didn't need any self-help books, or to go somewhere to find himself. No plan, no organizer or time management system focus on roles and goals. John's parents knew from the get-go why he was here, and so did he.

I think it's hard for us to imagine what it must have been like to be John. We were raised with the idea that we could do anything we wanted. We chose our educations, and our careers, and our spouses. In fact, it can be hard to know God's will for our lives because most of the time His call is to a close relationship with Him rather than a specific place or job.

We don't know what it's like for there to be a single reason for us to be here, a single thing for us to do. We get lost in the choices.

John's job was to witness, to make sure people didn't miss the fact that the Messiah was coming. He came to testify, that "through him all men might believe." In that way, he was second fiddle, kind of an advance man sent to draw attention not to himself, but to Jesus.

I wonder if we should feel so different from John. Is it a stretch to say we're sent here for a single reason? After all, we exist for the glory of God; that's the sole purpose for our lives. It involves things like praise and obedience and, yes, following in John's footsteps by pointing to Jesus. But there really is only one reason for our presence here on earth.

Makes me wonder why it seems so hard to figure out sometimes. And why so many other things bog me down. Maybe if Gabriel had showed up to announce my purpose to my Dad (and struck him dumb, because Dad would have had something to say back) I'd feel like I was sent, too. But the fact is, I only have to open scripture for the announcement to be made.

Word

Young folks, when agreeing with something, sometimes simply respond, "Word." It's a cool (or whatever they're using to mean cool these days) way of saying "That's the truth."

I thought of that while reading about Jesus in John 1 (vv1-5 and 14): "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. . . . The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth."

A stretch from Gen Y slang to scripture? Not at all. I think it's another amazing example of the way scripture remains relevant through time. Why should my kids be different than the Hellenistic Greeks?

You see, in Jesus' day Greek philosophy was all about trying to make sense of the world through knowledge. They pursued Logos, which we're taught in school was Logic. However, the actual translation of Logos into English is . . . Word.

In some mysterious way Jesus is the Word through which God spoke the world into existence. Just as God is Love, Jesus is the Word. And the Word became flesh and dwelled among us.

So when Paul went to the Greeks to tell them the good news, he could say, "You know this Word you've been trying to understand for generations? Let me tell you about him . . . He died on a cross to save you." In addition to connecting us to creation, referring to Jesus as the living Word made the gospel relevant to the Greeks. And it gives us the chance to say to young people today, "You're right to say Word when you mean truth - let me tell you about the Word who lived among us, and who said, 'I am the Truth, and the Truth shall set you free.'"

If the Bible were just another book this would all be a stretch, but it isn't. It's supernatural; it isn't a book at all, it's God revealing himself to each of us in our own place and circumstance. The Word is there in all those words; why should we be surprised that they live and breath?

Troubled

There are a lot of words that pop into my mind to describe Mary, but "skeptic" isn't usually one of them.

This morning, reading in Luke 1, I came to verses 28 and 29: "The angel went to her and said, 'Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.' Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be." I wonder why she was so skeptical.

On the face of it, that's an awesome greeting. What's wrong with being highly favored, or the Lord being with you? I've always assumed she was troubled because it was an angel - they must be scary, because everyone who saw one was frightened. But that's not what scripture tells us; Luke says she was troubled at his words.

I could understand it after she heard the actual message. "Mary, you're all excited about getting married and setting up your own home and all that, but God has a different plan. How does out-of-wedlock, unplanned pregnancy sound to you?" That's the time to be troubled, but when she hears that part Mary just says, "I am the Lord's servant."

What was there about Gabriel's initial words of greeting that were so troubling? 

Maybe it sounded like mockery. Mary saw herself as a simple village girl, someone relatively low on the prestige scale in her society. She wasn't rich, she wasn't male, she wasn't mature, she wasn't from Jerusalem. In no earthly way was she highly favored.

Maybe there was some kind of connotation with the phrase "The Lord is with you." After all, those words were said to many in Israel's history as they were sent off on adventures (defined as something that, when you're having it, you wish you were home.) Think Gideon and Daniel, for example. Maybe Mary thought, "If he's saying that, he wants me to do something hard."

I'm sure the experts have all kinds of explanations for this verse, but these posts are my unstudied reactions to scripture, and without their help I just don't know why Mary was troubled. But it's a useful question to me because it reminds me of my own reaction to many of God's invitations.

When someone talks to me about an opportunity to partner in ministry, I want to put one hand over my wallet. "Use your gifts," can easily sound like "I can't get anyone else to do this." Ask me to read in church, and I wonder if I'll end up having to sing and dance. To be fair, with Janie that last one is warranted, but the rest are just examples of my own skepticism.

Skepticism is the opposite of trust. Mary responded well to the hard part of the message because she knew who it came from, and she trusted God. She may have been troubled at first because she didn't trust a stranger. I get skeptical when I think I need to watch out for myself; that should never be the case with God.

Families

One of the many things my family thinks is weird about me is that I like the very first part of Matthew 1, that long genealogy of Christ. But I do; in fact, it's one of my comfort passages.

You see, Jesus' family was just as dysfunctional as mine. Not only that, but a few folks who sinned as much as I do played roles in God's plan to bring us a savior.

In this list you find harlots, philanderers and killers. Rahab, lady of the night who committed treason to save herself; Judah, who slept with his daughter thinking she was a temple prostitute. And oh by the way, he also took part in selling his own brother to slavers. I fit right in.

And there are a bunch of unknowns. Oh sure, Jesus' forebears included Abraham and David, and some others whose lives are fairly well chronicled. But Shealtiel? Azor? Matthan? These are men who didn't do anything that would have been helpful to include in scripture.

They may have lived quiet lives of dedicated faithfulness, in which case they motivate me not to worry too much about huge acts of faith, but instead to live each moment faithfully. Or maybe they were rogues and scoundrels, which reminds me that God uses even the godless to accomplish His ends. No failure on my part will change one detail in His mighty plan.

But the best part, for me, is the stories of God's faithfulness embedded in this genealogy. Boaz, the faithful kinsman-redeemer of the poor Moabite widow Ruth. Isaac, for whom God provided a wife and life partner who shared his faith when he lived among the heathens. Abraham, who was ready to kill his son, and was given a wild ram (hmmm, could that angel have been Gabriel?). Solomon, God's blessing to His people given to David through the wife he stole, Bathsheba.

It just amazes me that through all the centuries, as God worked out His master plan to defeat Satan and save us, He also strewed blessings in every direction, every step of the way. He patiently taught and faithfully provided and sometimes surprised and shocked His people with His goodness. As He brought history to the day of victory, He also gave joy to husbands and wives, comfort to widows and orphans, strength to those He called to serve Him. With God, everything is about more than just one thing, but one of His favorite things is to bless homes and families, and ordinary people in their ordinary lives.

There's a huge amount of hope for me in this genealogy of Jesus. It's always a perfect start to Advent.

Messenger

I usually shift my devotions during Advent, so I'm taking a month-long break from Peter. 

I have the same thought every Advent season: I think Gabriel had a great job. This is what he told Zechariah in Luke 1:19: “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to tell you this good news."

Gabriel was God's messenger. He stood in God's throne room, heard God's plans, and sometimes God would turn to him and say, "I need to you take a message to so-and-so." In addition to his role in the Christmas saga, we know that Gabriel appeared to Daniel in his visions; he's the one who explained what the visions meant. That makes me wonder how many other times in scripture, when an un-named angel brought a message from God (Abraham, Jacob, Gideon, Balaam), it might have been Gabriel.

Even if it was only the few instances when he was named, think of it. Gabriel knew the whole plan. He might have been there the day Satan and his followers were cast down; he certainly understood what Jesus would do here on earth. He had to have know about the cross, but he also likely knew all about the new Zion as described in Hebrews 12, where angels and the saved will rejoice together in the streets.

Knowing all of this, taking messages to Zechariah and Mary that foretold the birth of the Messiah and the one who would prepare the way for him must have been a lot of fun. I don't know if angels experience emotions like we do, but if it were me, I'd feel like a little kid taking part in a great surprise, something you know is going to be really good.

But if it looks like that much fun, why don't I do it? I've been entrusted with the same great message, only after the fact. I've been sent by the same God. But the sad fact is, I like to be the messenger to the ones who have already heard. I don't get excited about telling it to the ones who need it most.

Loyalty

It's funny sometimes how God gets me thinking.

I'm playing a computer game with my sons right now that has strong themes of loyalty. You can choose to take part in a rebellion, presented as liberating the people; you can support the existing government. You can join groups based on your race, or your profession, or your religion. 

This is a secular game set in an alternate world with strong Roman Empire overtones, so all of the religions are pagan, and every clique uses situational ethics. Bad things you do to your enemies are OK, if they result in good things for your friends. 

But what has me thinking is this idea of loyalty. When interests conflict, how do you choose what's right? Life is frequently like that, so it's a question that's been stuck in my mind.

So this morning, the very first sentence I read in Peter is this: "But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord." (1 Peter 3:15).

Conflicting loyalties and situational ethics can bog us down when we forget where our true loyalty lies. When we're trying to avoid stressful confrontations, or disappointing others, or making them dislike us, or emotional or physical pain, all those situations in life are hard to figure out.

But our Lord has a pretty simple set of rules. With Him, it usually isn't hard to figure out what's right, so much as it is to convince ourselves that's what we're really going to do.

Loyalty to Christ means that earthly wealth, position, or relationships are secondary to heavenly ones. We want only as much as we need to live obediently; the rest we give away. Positions of power are of little use; work in soup kitchens becomes more attractive. And the relationship that gets clear priority over every other one is our relationship with God.

It's easy to see in the end where most people's loyalties are. Is it obvious to the world which Lord I serve?

Blessed

Sometimes it's easy to worry. We worry about a lot of things we can't control, like the weather or the economy. We worry about a lot of things that never happen, like losing the farm or an axe murderer ringing the doorbell.

I don't worry very much, but when it comes to the thought of standing up for my faith, sometimes I do. I think may be my peers will think less of me. I wonder if being visibly Christian will make anyone complain - these days you have to be careful about religion at work. I wonder if other managers might respect me less.

When I was a 17-year-old in Basic Training, it took me a week to dare to pray over my meal in the mess hall. I thought I'd be eaten alive; turned out no one really cared, as long as I didn't expect them to.

I need to hear Peter's advice, given in 1 Peter 3:13-14: "Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good? But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. 'Do not fear what they fear ; do not be frightened.'"

My problem: I can see people disliking me, or mocking me, as harm. Maybe that's what Peter means when he says not to fear what others fear. We're so sensitive about what people think of us; we want to be respected, valued. We want to be popular.

In my own (possibly peculiar) context, this verse sounds to me like God saying, "Don't worry about what people think; don't be afraid of possible damage to your professional reputation. Most people are going to accept you because everyone likes a good person, and if a few don't, well, that's your chance to prove your faith."

I want to be more like my parents - I can't picture either of the being wishy-washy or apologetic about their faith. They certainly seem to have the blessing this verse promises.

Paybacks

There used to be a saying in the Infantry that paybacks are hard (actually, most soldiers used a different H word, which could also be relevant to these reflections). It was meant as a warning; mess with the Infantry, expect payback.

This morning, though, I thought as I read Peter how true that statement is, but in the opposite way soldiers meant it. If you engage in paybacks, things get hard for you, and may even lead to that other H.

Listen to Peter (1 Peter 3:8-12): "Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing. For, 'Whoever would love life and see good days must keep his tongue from evil and his lips from deceitful speech. He must turn from evil and do good; he must seek peace and pursue it. For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer, but the face of the Lord is against those who do evil.'"

That's why it's wrong to use someone else's bad behavior to justify our own - that's repaying evil with evil. Jesus followers don't get even, Peter says. Our Lord expects us to be a blessing to everyone, no matter how they treat us. That's how we inherit the great blessing of salvation.

This passage suggests that vengeful people should not expect to love life, they shouldn't plan to see good days. In fact, they could wind up with the Lord's face against them. By contrast, God's ears are attentive to the prayers of those who respond to insults with blessings.

That's scary. Paybacks are indeed hard - on the ones delivering them.

Considerate

I think Peter let husbands off easy. Of course, he may recognize that he can't expect as much from men.

But, compared with his instructions to wives to be submissive, he gives this seemingly easy charge to the menfolk: (1 Peter 3:7) "Husbands, in the same way be considerate as you live with your wives, and treat them with respect as the weaker partner and as heirs with you of the gracious gift of life, so that nothing will hinder your prayers."

Be considerate. All I have to do is consider her. Consider her desires, her viewpoint, her feelings, her moods, her needs . . . OK, maybe not so easy after all. Because being considerate is more than just considering, it's changing things so they line up with what you perceive about the other person's wants.

So on the way home, instead of thinking about how tired I am and what I feel like doing, I should be thinking about what I know of her day, how she's probably feeling, and what she would like me to do. For me, that's really hard. Maybe, as a friend once pointed out, God specifically mentions the things He knows we'll struggle with.

I don't know what to make of the reference to "weaker partner." Maybe I can lift more than Dawn, but I don't think I'm stronger than her in any other way. She's a tough cookie, and I don't think God puts a lot of value on which of us can do more push-ups. Maybe in some way wives are more vulnerable because they love their families so much.

What scares me a little about this verse is that it ends with a warning of sorts, a suggestion that not heeding could result in hindered prayer. Those days when I'm a self-centered jerk, that will impact my prayer life. Obviously I may not be as inclined to pray when I'm being like that, but Peter makes it sound like there's more. Maybe less of my prayers will accord with God's will when I'm being selfish.

Even though I don't always feel like chatting, or cuddling, or a concert, there's more to giving in than just keeping the peace or being nice. There's something about being considerate that she needs spiritually and that I am to provide as part of my obligation to her and my service to God.

Wives

I almost skipped over a passage today - the first time I've wanted to. The passage is 1 Peter 3:1-6: "Wives, in the same way be submissive to your husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives, when they see the purity and reverence of your lives. Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful. They were submissive to their own husbands, like Sarah, who obeyed Abraham and called him her master. You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear."

A wise man doesn't attempt to instruct his wife on how to be a better wife. Or even to try to make a point about it with women in general. And even if I felt competent to do so, I'd be uneasy because it's obvious that I benefit. So, I'd like to be let off the hook today.

But it is scripture and I need to understand it. The phrase "in the same way" points back to the part of Peter's letter relating to Jesus not retaliating, but trusting to a just God. That and the final phrase "do not give way to fear" make us husbands sound like a pretty unpleasant bunch - "When your husband treats you like a slave or is mean to you, doing those frightening things, submit." I suppose for a newly converted Christian woman in Peter's time, married either to a pagan or a devout Jew, it could be rough.

A takeaway for me is that I should never make the submission God requires of my wife a burden for her, and certainly not a cause for fear, or something that tempts her to retribution.

I think the part about beauty doesn't prohibit things that make women look and feel beautiful - there's nothing wrong with looking your best. The point here is just as valid for men: The peace and kindness and gentleness that comes from being Godly will be more appealing to the kind of person you want to be with than whatever physical bait you're trolling with. Conversely, the partner you attract solely with your physical self is likely to disappoint you somewhere down the road.

What I want to say to my wife is, "Submit to God." I'll happily live with the outcome. But that's a cop-out, because scripture says she should submit to me. I just want to be worth it.

No retaliation

I'm not very good at turning the other cheek. It's not that I get even, but I'm not inclined to take a lot of guff. When people start in on me, I can usually find a way to make them back off.

Sometimes that seems like a good thing. After all, this is America, where we admire rough individualism, where a man is expected to stand on his own two feet, to pull his own weight, not to need help from anyone. Our society doesn't think much of you if you let others get the best of you.

That's not Christlike, though, not the way Peter describes Christ. 1 Peter 2:23-25: "When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly. He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed. For you were like sheep going astray, but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls."

Jesus let people dis him; he let them hurt him, and he never said a word. It takes a tough man to do that. It takes a huge amount of self-confidence to let other people yammer at you and not respond. And it takes patience and tolerance. In Jesus case, it also was love; he took a lot from people because He loves us. Kind of like when a long-suffering wife excuses what her husband does when he's drunk, Jesus knew that we behave badly because we're under the influence of Satan.

So what's a guy to do? What Jesus did: " . . . entrusted himself to him who judges justly." Trust God, the ultimate fair Judge. That worked for Jesus because he had nothing to lose or fear from being judged; He was perfect. It works for us because of what's stated in verses 24 and 25: Jesus already took the judgment for our sins.

So there's no need to retaliate, nothing to gain by striking back. I'm covered, my judgment has been made, in my favor. That frees me to be concerned about the other person, and what I can do to help him.

Beatings

Sometimes scripture seems so relevant for today. Sometimes, not so much. Today I was really tempted to write some things off as in-applicable, but I have learned to be cautious in doing so.

Here's the passage I'm wrestling with (1 Peter 2:18-20) "Slaves, submit yourselves to your masters with all respect, not only to those who are good and considerate, but also to those who are harsh. For it is commendable if a man bears up under the pain of unjust suffering because he is conscious of God. But how is it to your credit if you receive a beating for doing wrong and endure it? But if you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God."

Obviously the idea of slavery and beatings are abhorrent, and the easy answer is that we are now in a new time and these things don't exist anymore. Slavery is far from dead in this world, and beatings a commonplace. I wonder what Peter would really say to a modern-day slave?

What I struggle with is that I understand God to be un-changing, and principles are supposed to be timeless. So if there was ever a time when God condoned slavery, then dare I say He changed His mind? That's one of three alternatives facing me. The other two are just as hard for me to grasp: that Peter made a mistake that somehow got incorporated into scripture, or that God is willing to overlook sins that are societal norms.

Obviously, I haven't resolved this question. The rest of the passage is actually pretty easy for me. Suffer unjustly? Of course that's going to happen; I've seen it hundreds of times. In those cases, I can choose to fight back, to get even, but then I look just like the world. That brings no glory to God. If I choose to accept the injustice in the name of a greater principle, there are two good outcomes. My strength and character grows because I chose obedience over my own rights, and the world sees and wonders.

But the whole slavery-beating thing? Even without understanding, I just have to accept that God is God, and He is good. Sometimes faith takes faith.

Authority

You can tell Peter wasn't an American.

Listen to this (1 Peter 2:13-17): "Submit yourselves for the Lord’s sake to every authority instituted among men: whether to the king, as the supreme authority, or to governors, who are sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to commend those who do right. For it is God’s will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish men. Live as free men, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as servants of God. Show proper respect to everyone: Love the brotherhood of believers, fear God, honor the king."

See? I mean, really. Submit? Hey, not only do I question whether the guy's a Christian, he's a Democrat! And my boss? Nice guy, but some days he's not smart enough to pour water out of a boot (potentially job-saving disclaimer: this is rhetoric; my boss actually is brilliant). And then there's my wife - so emotional (potentially marriage-saving disclaimer: more rhetoric). If I submitted to everyone in authority positions, I wouldn't have a life at all.

Besides, the ignorant talk of foolish men is our national pastime, our favorite spectator sport. We call it "Internet." Or maybe talk radio.

Peter doesn't care about that, because God doesn't. Do good, to silence the foolish. Don't use freedom as a cover-up for evil. This kind of life is God's will, not whether or not I get home in time to watch the game.

So unless it's an unlawful order, I should submit. Does submitting include not undermining? No backstabbing, no griping, no gossip? Aw, rats . . .

As usual, probably best to focus on the action items: respect everyone, love the believers, fear God, honor Obama. A short, simple list that even I can remember.

War

As a society, we're pretty averse to war, and I guess that's a good thing - we do, after all, follow the Prince of Peace. But I wonder sometimes if we just don't want the sacrifice and hard work that is necessary to fight. I have thought frequently over the past decade that we don't have enough willpower and discipline to sustain a war.

I thought that again this morning, when I read this from 1 Peter 2:11-12: "Dear friends, I urge you, as aliens and strangers in the world, to abstain from sinful desires, which war against your soul. Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us."

Usually this verse makes me think about being alien, but this morning the word "war" leaped out at me. War is more than just a fight, it's a sustained, focused effort that will involve multiple battles, with a lot of preparation and resources put into them. War is serious business, and defending yourself in time of war takes as much diligence and sacrifice as attacking.

In this case, I need diligence against sinful desires, because through them Satan makes war on my soul. I think the business about being aliens is just to remind me that what seems good in this world isn't good for me, because I don't really belong here.

I like to live as though I were a native, though. I want to belong here; truth is, I'm not in any hurry to get back home.

Maybe that's why it's easy to be casual about sin. Sometimes it doesn't seem like a big deal if I do it once; it seems likely there will be many days between now and Judgment Day, a lot of chances to get it right. And sometimes it seems like such a minor sin: one bad word, or one little tidbit of gossip, or one gluttonous meal, or one extra drink. I don't often think of sin as mortal danger.

But it is. I'm in a war, and if I don't want to lose I have to stay safe inside the defenses. Because that's what sin does: it lures me outside the wire, where I'm vulnerable. God is a mighty fortress, one Satan can't come close to threatening. His only viable strategy is deceit. If he can get me to think it's safe out there, and lure me away from God, he knows I'll be easy meat.

Peter's strategy is the opposite. He says I should live such a good life (which means completely resisting sin's temptation) that the pagans, the ones Satan thinks he already owns, can see what a great God I have. If I do this, I'll win some of them over, a victory for God and a defeat for the devil.

Chosen

1 Peter 2:9-10: "But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy."

These verses make me uncomfortable. Being chosen is usually good, like being picked for the team. But that implies something of worth that I would bring, a reason that I was chosen. In this case, I know there is no more value to me than in the person God didn't choose, so that makes it feel random, like a great spiritual lottery. That isn't right either, because God doesn't do random. So there was a reason for choosing me that really has nothing to do with anything I bring to the table. It's confusing and doesn't seem fair.

Since I don't understand the how, maybe it's best to look at the why: So that I can praise God.

After all, if he picks me because of my rugged good looks or ability to do one-armed push-ups, then I can brag about myself. Since He chose me even though there's not a single thing I can do that He needs, all that's left is to tell people," Wow! Can you believe it? He just came along, lifted me out of the mud, cleaned me up and gave me new clothes, and took me home with Him. I still can't figure out why, dirty and smelly as I was."

God took me from darkness into light. My response shouldn't be to obsess over the fairness of it, or to look for something in me that makes me a good choice. Just like I tell everyone about the great deal I got on my last purchase, or about the incredibly lucky thing that happened to me, I should be eager to tell the world about God and what He has done for me.

Destined

1 Peter 2:6-8 says "For in Scripture it says: 'See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame.' Now to you who believe, this stone is precious. But to those who do not believe, 'The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone,' and, 'A stone that causes men to stumble and a rock that makes them fall.' They stumble because they disobey the message–which is also what they were destined for."

Peter was talking about building us into a spiritual house, and now he adds Jesus as the cornerstone. But things stop feeling good pretty quickly. For those who trust, this is good. For those who disobey, this is the rock that will trip them up.

The chilling part is that Peter says disobedience is what these people were destined for. This was God's plan - remember, "Jacob have I loved, and Esau I hated." Some were created to show God's mercy, others to show His judgment.

I don't like thinking about this. For one thing, it doesn't seem fair (although the only really fair thing would be to destroy us all.) For another, I disobey. When you take into account what I think and not just what I do, it feels like I disobey a lot. Just because I try not to make it the pattern for my life, that doesn't seem enough to justify my election vs. someone else's damnation.

Election is one of those things where I just have to trust God. Give me half a reason from scripture and I'd like to become a universalist - I'd like everyone to end up in Heaven. But scripture doesn't support that, and Peter doesn't either.

In the end, I'm grateful that to me the cornerstone is precious, because I know I didn't put myself in that group. By grace, God did.

Built up

No deep thoughts today, just some pleasurable reflection on God's providence.

1 Peter 2:4-5 is only tangentially about providence. "As you come to him, the living Stone –rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him– you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ."

My gratitude for providence relates to two things.

First, I'm being built up, not building myself up. I'm grateful that this work, so important to me, doesn't have to be done by someone as weak as me.

Second, the building involves fitting me into the group. Peter uses the analogy of a house, with each stone fit into place, and also of a holy priesthood. I relate a little better to the second example, because it makes me think of a group of like-minded people joined together in a common purpose - kind of like an Army unit. I'm grateful that I'm not expected to do the work alone, but that I am a part of something bigger than me.

I also like the work: offering spiritual sacrifices. Sacrifices of time, of money, of love . . . all my work is really an offering. And if i bring my best offering, God will accept it because Jesus will make up the difference between what I do and perfection.

That's why I'm thinking about providence: God takes this Mission Impossible of renewing Greg into something useful and acceptable, and makes it doable by joining me with the saints, and with Jesus Himself. The simple act of coming to Jesus results in me being built up.

Tasting

Peter writes in 1Peter 2:2-3, "Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good."

Any parent is going to relate to this. We've all gone through the process of getting a three-year-old to try something new. "Taste it!" we urge. But if it has sauce, or is green, or looks different in any way, or even just sounds different (my grandson loves pork chops but refused pork roast), it can take a lot of coercion to get them to stick it in their mouths the first time.

Kids are that way because they have to decide to trust mom over their own lack of experience, and because they want to go for the sure thing, something they know is good because they've had it before. Moms are usually right because they know and love their children. The result: once the child tries it, they like it. Often they crave it.

That's what Peter is saying. "Now that you're given God a try and found out how good He is, crave that spiritual nourishment that you need to grow." As infant believers, we need milk, but even adults should drink milk along with the more complex foods they eat. What a shame if we were ever to lose our love for the basic goodness of God,

The word "crave" is an interesting choice here - it's an extreme word. People lost in the desert crave water. Addicts crave drugs. That word suggests an all-consuming need; nothing matters as much to a person with a craving as finding satisfaction for it. Is that how we are with God? It would be nice to think so, but sometimes there are so many choices on the buffet line that the attraction to God isn't that overwhelming.

Crave, Peter says, so that you can grow. Lay off the junk food and eat right.

To don't

1 Peter 2:1 is one of those great live-like-this lists, although this one is really a not-to-do list. Peter says, "Therefore, rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind." The "therefore" refers to what he says in chapter one about our salvation. Because of God's grace, Peter says, I need to clean house, throw out some stuff I won't need anymore.

Malice - that's wanting bad things to happen to others. No more hoping that opposing player gets knocked out of the game. Or that a rival embarrasses herself in front of the world.

Deceit - misleading others about what you do or think. Don't lie, don't imply. Instead, open up a window to that inner room of secrets and let everyone see. Tell the truth about what I did and why. Admit things. Let the sun shine in and kill the mold. Of course, living so I don't want to lie about it is the bigger challenge.

Hypocrisy - that's pretending I'm better than I am. The trick is, I get so good at going along with expectations, it's hard to know when I'm being a hypocrite. The difference probably is in whether or not I'm trying to impress anyone.

Envy - that's being jealous when something good happens to someone else. Paul often pairs it with malice (see above) to describe how we relate to others outside of grace - there's an example early in Titus 3. I should rejoice in the good fortune of others; our God has an abundance of blessings, enough for all.

Slander - saying bad things about people. Peter adds "of all kinds" so I can't infer, or just pass on what someone else told me. We're supposed to build people up, not tear them down.

Think of the potential impact on my relationships: just being myself, totally transparent, harming no one and rejoicing with everyone. Looks like I have a lot to don't today.

Purified

When Peter talks about us purifying ourselves by obeying (1Peter 1:22 "Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for your brothers, love one another deeply, from the heart."), I feel uncomfortable. I've been taught to avoid any semblance of works-based salvation, so I get uneasy whenever anyone says I can do part of it myself. Jesus purified me; the Holy Spirit continues to purify me. But me myself?

But I have to admit that I can make myself impure through disobedience. I've done that experiment often enough to have validated the theory. So doesn't it follow that I should be able to do the opposite?

I guess to the extent I am able to obey, I become more pure. That I don't obey more is a mark of my own weakness. When I do obey, it's because I rely completely on God.

That may be what Peter is getting at. The act of obedience comes from complete reliance on God. That's the only way I can do it. And it results in a better understanding of God's will. It results in a strengthened ability to obey, to do God's will.

Maybe that's what being purified really is. And maybe the part that I do is to rely fully on God, since that's the only way I can truly be obedient.

Reverent fear

Again, Peter with the terse, meaning-packed sentence. "Since you call on a Father who judges each man’s work impartially, live your lives as strangers here in reverent fear." (1 Peter 1:17)

This sentence has a what (the second part) and a why (the first part).

The what: I am to live here on earth as a stranger, in reverent fear. A stranger, because I don't belong. This isn't my culture, and if I go native then I break faith with my Father and Lord. That part we hear a lot about, and I get it, although I don't always live it very well.

But reverent fear? Do we still revere God the way Peter means? His name, as represented by the ubiquitous text-speak acronym OMG, is a part of popular culture in a way that's anything but reverent. It's easy to become casual about God; too often even those who believe in Him look at Him like a spiritual Gentle Ben, and great big pet grizzly bear who is powerful and dangerous, yes, but not to us. He's our friend; He helps us and does what we want.

And fear? I can't say I fear God. I know, we've decided that Biblically the word fear doesn't mean be afraid, it's just an old-fashioned word meaning to reverence and obey. I disagree; I think the word fear is meant to convey a certain amount of fear. It's meant to recognize the mortal danger we're in when we trifle with God.

It's easy to focus on God's grace and love, easy to look past the fact that He ordered entire towns slaughtered and personally destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah. It's easy to forget how passionately He hates our sin, and how willing he is to bring us suffering if that's the best thing for us.

So, Peter says, live here as strangers, in reverent fear. Why? Because we have a Father who judges our work impartially. He loves us, yes, but He doesn't play favorites. Or maybe, more accurately, He does but we're all His favorites.

In front of an impartial Judge, we will get exactly what we deserve. Outside of Jesus, that's death. That realization puts the fear back in reverent fear.

Holy

I cringe whenever I read a "be" directive in scripture. I like obedience that involves doing - give your tithe, serve others. Those are things I can make myself do even on the bad days.

But when Peter writes, "But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: 'Be holy, because I am holy.'" (1 Peter 1:15-16), I get uncomfortable. You can't fake being something, not to God anyway.

See, here's the problem: I often go to worship grumpy. I frequently rush through my devotions and cut short my prayers. I usually do good with mixed motives. I've mastered the art of looking a lot more holy than I am. But I don't think I'm anywhere near as holy as I should be after this many years to work on it.

It doesn't help much that Peter gives some good advice on how to be holy. In the verses immediately preceding, he says, "Therefore, prepare your minds for action; be self-controlled; set your hope fully on the grace to be given you when Jesus Christ is revealed. As obedient children, do not conform to the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance."

Preparing my mind would be helpful, but it might take time away from the things I want to read and watch and think about. Putting my hope in grace makes a lot of sense too, except I like to be in control instead of relying on someone else. Not conforming to evil desires is also good advice.

I guess there is a lot of "doing" for me to do in pursuit of "being." As with so many things, it comes down to effort and focus. Too much of my effort goes into other things, and not enough focus on God. Maybe if I fix the focus, there's a way to "do" myself into being holy.

Searching

Sometimes I mislay something. If it's minor, I may just wait for it to show up. If it's important, I look. If it's something like my car keys or billfold, I turn the house inside out and don't quit until I find it,

That, in a small way, is what I pictured when I read this from Peter (1 Peter 1:10-11): "Concerning this salvation, the prophets, who spoke of the grace that was to come to you, searched intently and with the greatest care, trying to find out the time and circumstances to which the Spirit of Christ in them was pointing when he predicted the sufferings of Christ and the glories that would follow."

I imagined this small group of godly men, separate from society because God asked them to do such weird stuff, knowing that there is something great coming, knowing that somehow they and the people of Israel have missed it and are on the wrong track. They're searching for the truth much more earnestly than I look for lost car keys; it was a lifelong obsession for them. They knew, because the Spirit told them, that the Messiah was coming and they wanted desperately to know when and where.

And look what they discovered with all their searching (v12): "It was revealed to them that they were not serving themselves but you, when they spoke of the things that have now been told you by those who have preached the gospel to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven. Even angels long to look into these things."

All that looking, and what they found out was that they would never see the Messiah. Their job was to point the rest of us to Him; their great search was for our benefit, not theirs. In the end, in this great, life-consuming quest of the prophets and the fervent excitement of the apostles like Peter, what we really see is God.

The Spirit revealed to the prophets that the Messiah was on His way, and gave them the prophecies that were so helpful for the rest of us. And that same Spirit enabled the apostles to preach the gospel after the Messiah came. This story of prophets and apostles is really a story of a different search: God's pursuit of His lost sheep.

Every once in a while I run into something that shows me again that all the centuries of history have been about one thing: The salvation of the elect. It's so amazing it scares me. My soul is that thing so important to God that He'll devote great effort to get it back. I need to put a little more effort into that myself.

Trials

You can't be brave if you've never been scared. After all, being brave is acting even though you are scared. Fright is a key component of bravery - if there's no fear, there's nothing to be brave about.

Peter makes a similar point about faith and trials (1 Peter 1:6-7). He says, "In this [our heavenly inheritance] you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith–of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire –may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed."

Peter is simple to the point of bluntness here: you grieve and suffer trials to prove the authenticity of your faith.

After all, it's easy for me to rave about God and His providence when life is good and I have everything I want. It's easy to proclaim my faith in Jesus in church on Sunday morning. Why not? I'm happy, and I'm in sync with everyone around me. But that's not really faith.

Would I appreciate God's providence if I lost my job, burned up my savings, had to sell the house and the only work I could find was digging ditches? In those circumstances, would my faith be sufficient to recognize His goodness, and how He was by my side working all this together for my good?

Do I proclaim my savior as boldly when I'm at a convention far from home, with people who want to party? How about when it might actually cost me something? I'd like to think so; I remember in Basic Training I had the choice of going to Chapel at 4:30 on Sunday morning or getting an extra hour of sleep. I went, but was that faith or the sure knowledge that somehow my mom would know if I didn't?

My faith is proved every day in how I handle the things I don't like. That includes things as mundane as waiting in traffic, and as significant as breaking relationships. In all of those circumstances I can choose to focus on God and His goodness, and my grateful obedience, or I can become frustrated and feel sorry for myself. Ironically, I probably do better in the big things than the little ones.

And I can't overlook the last part: my genuine faith is important because it is for Jesus' glory. That means in order to glorify Him I have to have faith, and in order to have faith I have to suffer. In that context, it's embarrassing how little suffering I actually experience. If I were in the right places doing the right things, I'd probably encounter more of it.

Shielded

Any Star Trek fan knows that shields are important. The first thing Captain Kirk does when things start heading south is to order the shields up. Or, if sci-fi isn't your thing, think of the popular image of the Spartans in ranks with their shields held high and together, warding off the rain of arrows.

I was thinking of both those images this morning as I continued on in 1 Peter 1. Again, I didn't get very far before I stopped reading and started thinking, this time about shields.

Peter wrote (vv3-5) "In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade –kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time."

We looked a little bit yesterday at the first part of this, about the inheritance kept in heaven for us. Today we add the who - those who through faith are shielded.

The part about being shielded by God's power is kind of a no-brainer, although very comforting. I have always believed that God was powerful enough to shield me. One of my favorite Old Testament images is that in Psalms of sheltering under God's wings.

I got stuck this morning thinking about what my faith has to do with it. My faith doesn't make God more powerful, and it doesn't make God more or less desiring to shield me. Yet Peter is clear: I am shielded through faith.

If I think of the shield of faith Paul wrote to the Ephesians about (Ephesians 6), I think of a one-handed shield that a warrior would wield in his off hand. So maybe the role of my faith is that I trust the shield enough to pick it up and use it. Or if I think of God's shield as a protective wall (a mighty fortress is our God) then maybe my faith keeps me inside the wall, in the place of God's blessing.

Either way, it seems to suggest that I can make a choice to be shielded or not to be. God's protection never fails; my desire to be protected sometimes does. Sometimes I'd rather leave the fort and go mingle with the natives. Sometimes I want to sneak away and do something bad.

God knows that; He knows me. That's why He gave me the Holy Spirit, so that with only a little bit of weak desire, I can be empowered to stay where it's safe.