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.

Praise be

Peter is a much more concise writer than Paul. Paul was gifted in his ability to thoroughly explain complex points of doctrine, or to craft beautiful passages of praise. Blunt, direct fisherman Peter was gifted in his ability to say a lot with a few words. That's why I never get very far reading him before he engages my thoughts. 

And that's why this morning, intending to read more, I quit after just two verses (1 Peter 1:3-4) "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! 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. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you."

Wow, there's a lot there. God's great mercy . . . New birth . . . Living hope . . . Jesus' resurrection . . . An indestructible inheritance . . . Kept in heaven for me. Any one of those would make a sermon.

It's like Peter can't help himself. He meant to say, "Praise God," and then he needed to say why, and this whole amazing thing of salvation and eternal life just comes bubbling out. Remember, it was all brand new for Peter, and so it was still very exciting,

I wish I was that excited. I wish every time I started saying something simple, like hello, I wound up pouring out my excitement about the most significant and important thing in my life. And I wish when that did happen, that thing was my salvation and not some earthly triumph.

All from a simple working guy, Peter, someone I'd probably look down on if I met him. If God used Peter, He can use me. He's probably trying to; I may just not be as cooperative.

Elect exiles

I love the way the apostles started their letters. I used to just skip over the intros, but if you pay attention, there's a lot there.

Look at how Peter starts 1 Peter: "Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ, To those who are elect exiles of the dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, in the sanctification of the Spirit, for obedience to Jesus Christ and for sprinkling with his blood: May grace and peace be multiplied to you."

When I read that this morning, I was struck by two things. First, he addresses Christians in these far-flung places as "elect exiles of the dispersion." The dispersion, of course, was that displacement of Christian Jews when they fled Israel under persecution. These displaced persons, rebuilding their lives in far-away places, Peter calls "elect exiles." He could just mean elect in exile, but it sounds like he may mean elected to be exiled. That isn't a bad reading, because the dispersion was God's way of quickly spreading the Gospel and growing the early church.

The second thing that hit me about this introduction supports that viewpoint, and that's Peter's description of the involvement of the Trinity. Peter says these elect were dispersed according to the foreknowledge of God, in the sanctification of the Spirit, for the obedience of Jesus and for the sprinkling of his blood.

In other words, these Jews were far from home because God planned it that way. They were sent out in obedience to Jesus' call to go into the world and spread the gospel. And they were equipped, and were continually becoming better equipped, by the Holy Spirit.

You probably see it already: that's a great definition of us. Elect exiles, here on earth to do Jesus' work of spreading the Gospel, guided by the Spirit, according to God's great plan of salvation. We're just the latest in a long line of faithful followers stretching all the way back to places we've never heard of.

Curses

There's something curious at the end of 1 Corinthians.

Paul does his usual thing, passing on greetings from various churches and people. "The churches in the province of Asia send you greetings. Aquila and Priscilla greet you warmly in the Lord, and so does the church that meets at their house. All the brothers here send you greetings. Greet one another with a holy kiss." (1 Cor 16:19-20)

These greetings, standard as they are in the New Testament letters, are pleasant because they suggest a sense of community we don't have. Separated by days worth of travel, these churches still felt closer to each other than to the communities they lived in. In fact, many of those early Christians, separated by miles of rough geography, knew each other by name - Aquila and Priscilla, for example.

But then Paul writes something unexpected: "If anyone does not love the Lord –a curse be on him." (v22).

Wow, really? It's OK to curse people? Remember, Paul isn't cursing at these folks, like using bad language to let them know how unhappy he is. He's cursing them, as in the opposite of blessing. Putting a curse on someone was to make (if you believed in supernatural powers, which most people did back then) or at least want something bad to happen to that person. Maybe they would break a leg or get boils, maybe something worse.

To put a curse on someone seems vindictive and mean. To me, there's a connotation of vengefulness, as if Paul would like to get even with all those who stoned him and jailed him. But that would be completely out of character for Paul.

Knowing Paul, I'd bet he means people who have heard the gospel but still don't love God. And it seems likely, in the context of this book, that he has on his mind those who lead others astray with their divisiveness and false teaching. Even so, this whole curse business makes me uncomfortable, just like God's orders to the Israelites in the Old Testament to slaughter entire towns.

I don't claim to understand it, but it reminds me that sin is serious business, and that sinners deserve death. Jesus said that someone who causes a child to sin would be better off jumping in the ocean with an anchor around his neck. We have such a nice faith, one characterized by love, that we forget that the justice side of it calls for our blood.

Sobering, but if we forget that, the cross is of no use to us. Jesus blood only has meaning in the context of my sin. I dare not take that lightly.

Submission

I hate to submit. I don't always want to lead, I just don't want to have to listen to someone else. I especially don't like having to change what I want to do because someone else wants something different.

In 1 Cor 16:15-18, Paul describes two kinds of people the Corinthian Christians should submit to. "You know that the household of Stephanas were the first converts in Achaia, and they have devoted themselves to the service of the saints. I urge you, brothers, to submit to such as these and to everyone who joins in the work, and labors at it. I was glad when Stephanas, Fortunatus and Achaicus arrived, because they have supplied what was lacking from you. For they refreshed my spirit and yours also. Such men deserve recognition."

The household of Stephanas had been doing God's work the longest. It's easy to see why Paul might direct the church to submit to them - they'd paid their dues, they had more experience, they had seniority. You might assume Paul is saying, "These folks have earned their spurs; pay attention to them and learn."

Except the second category of people Paul calls the church to submit to is "everyone who joins the work." That's a little harder to swallow; that means some guy who just converted yesterday can direct me.

I wonder about the point Paul is making here. Is he saying that any Christian who is diligently laboring should be heeded? That's a valid interpretation. I remember Blackaby (Desiring God) writing that every time we see God at work, that's an invitation to join. Maybe these busy beavers have every right to ask us to jump in and expect us to comply.

Or maybe this is just a more general point about submitting to one another in order to avoid conflict. Remember, this letter started out with Paul challenging the divisions caused by followers picking their favorite teacher, Paul or Apollos.

Or maybe this was something specific to the church at Corinth; Paul does say that these diligent workers provided what the Corinthian church couldn't, or at least didn't: they refreshed Paul's spirit and that of other Christians. In other words, they came and served, and encouraged. In that case, I need to look at how I support fellow Christians to know if that applies to me.

In any case, this instruction points out something that Paul, and presumably God, values. Obedient living means serving, which among other things will refresh fellow believers. If I'm doing that, I have a right to expect others to help. If I'm not, I'd better find some worker to join. At that point, they have every right to lead, and I should follow.

Unwilling

Paul also has a personal word about Apollos, and this is one of those things that make me wonder why God wanted some things included in scripture. Paul says (1 Cor 16:12) "Now about our brother Apollos: I strongly urged him to go to you with the brothers. He was quite unwilling to go now, but he will go when he has the opportunity."

You might remember Apollos as the other leader that some in the church preferred over Paul. That makes me think a few things about this verse.

First, Paul really must not have cared about this rival. He not only wrote elsewhere that it didn't matter who got credit, that it was God at work, but he actually wanted Apollos to go to Corinth when Paul couldn't. I think that shows that Paul just wanted the gospel to be spread and the church to be served. No empire-building there.

Second, I wonder what Apollos had going on that made now a bad time. Obviously Apollos didn't feel compelled to do what Paul asked him to; he wasn't in a good position to go at the moment but would when he could. Maybe that little fact is in the Bible just to let us know that sometimes our calls aren't immediate or time-specific. Maybe a closed door today just means wait a little bit,

There are some good things to ponder here. The first is how my feeble attempts at ministry compare to Paul's all-consuming passion. I'm more likely to exclude competitors and rivals, or, more accurately, people I just don't like very well. And I like the idea of my own empire, a little Kingdom of Greg where everyone loves me and thinks I'm brilliant. I'm afraid any honest evaluation of my motives would make my efforts to serve actually look self-serving.

The second is that maybe I need to look at calling(s) not as a once-and-done sort of thing. Maybe what God wants me to be doing is more fluid than that. Maybe it changes by the month, or even the day. Maybe what He has me doing today is just to prepare me to do something different tomorrow. Instead of settling into a comfortable place, maybe I need to be asking for orders every day.

And maybe once I'm done with this book I need to move on to a different author. Paul's unrelenting energy for obedience is a hard example to follow.

No fear

Paul's instruction to the Corinthians regarding Timothy is kind of strange. "If Timothy comes, see to it that he has nothing to fear while he is with you, for he is carrying on the work of the Lord, just as I am. No one, then, should refuse to accept him. Send him on his way in peace so that he may return to me. I am expecting him along with the brothers." (1 Cor 16:9-10)

See to it that he has nothing to fear? What should make him afraid? What threat should there be in visiting fellow Christians? Paul suggests they might not accept him, and tries to assure the Corinthians that Timothy is one of the good guys.

It's interesting to me that this problem of acceptance was already a feature of the early church. It seems to me that we have it in spades. I know I can be pretty skeptical of a speaker who isn't Calvinist, and I've even been known to refuse to listen to someone who's too charismatic or conservative. I don't think that makes me abnormal.

But it's sad to think that we in the church can be so close-minded that some might fear to come to us. At a minimum shouldn't we be able to worship and fellowship with anyone who follows the same Lord we do? How much better wouldn't it be if we were secure enough to listen to new ideas.

Debate or even open conflict among believers should be nothing to fear if we model ourselves after Jesus. The only ones who were afraid of Jesus were demons and those who opposed His rule.

Paul saw that unless he ran some interference, Timothy was likely to have an unpleasant experience in the church at Corinth. I need to ask myself who I make feel unwelcome in my church. It's probably more people than I realize.

Opposition

I wonder if Paul saw anything the way I do.

In 1 Corinthians 16:5-9, he's making plans. He got through the business part of the letter and now he's passing on a few personal messages, and he starts by letting the Corinthians know he's coming for a visit. He says he'd like to make it a good long visit, but he's going to go to Macedonia first. And he intends to stay in Ephesus until Pentecost.

Why? Because he has this great opportunity to do work a lot of people are opposed to. Really - listen to verses 8 and 9: "But I will stay on at Ephesus until Pentecost, because a great door for effective work has opened to me, and there are many who oppose me."

Like most folks, I sometimes talk about doors opening and windows of opportunity. But to me, one of the characteristics I use to define that opportunity is the fact that there's not much resistance. I never say, "I knew that was God's leading because I had to kick the door in."

When I encounter resistance, I re-evaluate. I ask why I seem to be out of sync with so many people. I probe to learn why people don't seem to value what I'm trying to do. And in the end I often decide that God is signaling me to spend my time somewhere else.

But Paul's example makes me wonder about that approach. Paul has only one criteria for plowing ahead: are there souls to be won? The more the better. The opposition just means it will take a little longer.

That challenges me, because I think there's a key difference between how Paul and I approach ministry. Paul never forgets his role as co-worker with God, or more accurately foot soldier in the Lord's army. Paul discounts opposition because he knows nothing can stand against the will of God.

I think about what I can get done in my own strength. I say with my mouth but don't really expect to see in reality that God can change hearts, He can provide resources, He will sustain me with energy and enthusiasm. I say those things, but when I'm doing my relative combat power analysis I seldom take Him into account. Then it's me against the world.

No wonder I retreat so often.

Collection

Interestingly, after 15 chapters of "elders' business," Paul starts chapter 16 of Corinthians with some "deacons' business." He gives some very practical guidance on collecting and disbursing aid.

He writes (vv 1-4), "Now about the collection for God’s people: Do what I told the Galatian churches to do. On the first day of every week, each one of you should set aside a sum of money in keeping with his income, saving it up, so that when I come no collections will have to be made. Then, when I arrive, I will give letters of introduction to the men you approve and send them with your gift to Jerusalem. If it seems advisable for me to go also, they will accompany me."

Boy, in comparison to his rant on gifts, his eloquent exposition of love, and his detailed discussion of the question of the resurrection, this is pretty brief and straightforward. I think that's maybe because for Paul and the early church, there wasn't much controversy over the offering plate.

There is no question in Paul's mind that the Corinthians will give; he just has some advice on how to make it easier. Take out a little money every week, whatever makes sense based on your income, he says. Then when I come we'll empty those savings accounts and get it shipped to where it's needed.

Notice, no debate over percentages, no talk of before or after taxes, no discussion of all the other ways they're already supporting the church. Giving is what Christians do, Paul seems to be saying, the only thing left to talk about is how. And the Corinthians must have agreed, or there would have been more.

Our whole process is a lot more complicated than that, but we have more structure than the early church. We have a building and paid staff, which they didn't. Those things are huge blessings, but it means we have to have a certain amount in the offering plate. So we get into a lot of measurements trying to make sure we get enough money.

It makes me think there are a couple of things we don't do well. Church leadership isn't always as careful as it could be about where the money goes. And church members don't always see giving as automatic.

Maybe the point isn't really about money. Maybe money wasn't controversial for the Corinthians because the church was their first priority, so that's naturally where their first fruits went. Maybe we have to talk about it so much because there are a lot of other things higher on our list, usually things that make our lives here more comfortable.

Giving isn't a question of whether or how much for a truly obedient Christian. Whether is "Of course," and how much is "whatever's available." After that, as with Paul, it's just a matter of mechanics.

Imperishable

One thing you learn quickly in the military is the need for good supply lines. During field operations nothing lasts. Ammo and fuel get used up, food rots, boots wear out, uniforms tear, tanks throw their tracks. A lot of research goes into making things last longer because it's so hard to keep enough stuff coming. That's where things like MREs and stainless steel come from.

That's a reflection of the truth of our earthly lives: everything decays. Everything dies. All of this world is on a trajectory that ends in death.

Because of that, I don't think we really get the fill import of the promise Paul writes about in 1 Cor 15:50-58. It's a familiar passage, "Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed – in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed." (vv51-52). Can you imagine what it really will be like, to exist as beings who don't get old or wear out? To start each day feeling strong and able, to do the things God sets us to without wearing out, to fulfill our purpose with no limitation from our physical selves - it's more really than I can get my head around.

It will happen, Paul says, in a flash, at the last trumpet. What a day that will be! That's the victory over death, and the decay we see around us and the aging we feel in our own bodies are just the slow work of that great enemy.

"The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law," Paul says. "But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain."

Ever wonder if it's worth it, this struggle to live obediently? Just think of the imperishable, never-aging, immortal you that will be. Yeah, more than worth it.