on our side

I watched an interview with a famous actor recently who is an atheist. His basis for rejecting the possibility of a God is that to him the world looks like no one cares. He sees pain and evil as proof that there couldn’t possibly be a God who is love. My reaction is to imagine a world where God actually didn’t care, and to think how much different things would be. My life experience is full of times when God’s love was evident.

I thought of that man again this morning as I read my devotions, because Psalm 124 raises that same question. The first four verses of that Psalm go like this: “If the Lord had not been on our side— let Israel say— if the Lord had not been on our side when people attacked us, they would have swallowed us alive when their anger flared against us; the flood would have engulfed us, the torrent would have swept over us, the raging waters would have swept us away.”

It seems an odd Psalm to associate with Advent, but I think the main question is quite relevant: What if God hadn’t been on our side? What if he decided to wash his hands of us? What if he opted out of the struggle we have with Satan and unbelievers and left the world to do to us whatever it wishes? Or worse yet, if he abandoned me to my sin?

The reference to raging waters of course immediately brings to mind Noah, and how God’s people were miraculously saved during the flood. That story reveals God to us as a God who saves, a God who would never leave us or forsake us. Our God goes to extreme lengths to restore us to him. 

If the Lord had not been on our side, he certainly would never have sacrificed his son. But God is on our side, so he called his people and led them, and fought for them against the corruption of sin and the attacks of sinners. And he promised a Savior, and urged the people to watch and wait. One day the rescue would be complete. 

So I watch, and I wait. As it should, it all gets jumbled in my head. Christmas is coming, the Savior has come, Jesus will come again. I and so many others take this annual walk in the sandals of God’s people who lived before the first Christmas because nothing else grounds us in our true hope like this story that begins with a manger and some shepherds and a virgin birth. 

What if God hadn’t been on our side? The flood would wash over me, every day, and then finally when I die. Hope would have left the same day Adam and Eve were kicked out of the garden. But Hallelujah, the promised Savior comes.

watching

I wonder if I would do any better than the Pharisees and Saducees when it comes to being ready for Jesus to come. They pretty much blew it; they weren’t looking for Jesus, despite the prophesies, and when told by the Magi that he had been born, they didn’t bother to look for him themselves. 

Other than Jesus’ statement that he will return, I don’t have the helpful indicators of prophesy to help me. In fact, Jesus says I should expect to be taken by surprise:  “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left.

“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come.” Matt 24:36-42.

In defense of the Jewish religious leaders, the prophets had been silent for four centuries. It would have been easy to grow complacent, to move from wondering if he would ever come to that place where you just really don’t think it will happen any more. With a few minor exceptions, it seems most of the Jews felt that way.

On the other hand, even with scripture to remind me and faithful pastors to call me to be attentive, it would be easy for me to start thinking the same way. After all, Jesus last spoke on the subject a couple of centuries ago. What would make me think that his thief-in-the-night return is coming in my lifetime?

So if Jesus does come soon, will I do any better than the Pharisees and Saducees did at that first Advent? I want to; it would be worth taking some time to think about what might have to change to make that true.

beginning

Once Thanksgiving is past, we move to Advent. We start looking toward Christmas, and that often involves looking back into the Old Testament. I was reminded this morning that the entire Bible is the story of Jesus, so in a way it’s all about Christmas.

So the Lord God said to the serpent, “Because you have done this,

“Cursed are you above all livestock

and all wild animals!

You will crawl on your belly

and you will eat dust

all the days of your life.

And I will put enmity

between you and the woman,

and between your offspring and hers;

he will crush your head,

and you will strike his heel.” Genesis 3:14-15

This is where it  really starts. The moment God realized Adam and Eve had made that original bad choice, he started to make it right. They chose evil and corruption; they listened to that first lie from the Father of Lies, and as a result their relationship with God was fractured and their souls were in jeopardy. And all descendants of Adam and Eve, including me, from that moment were born with a bent toward sin.

But God was determined from the very start to redeem his people. The first prophesy of the Messiah came from God himself, in the Garden of Eden, at that moment when original sin was revealed. Everything else in scripture was the detail of how God’s plan was worked out.

All of history from that moment was about the enmity between the offspring of Eve and of the serpent. All the wars, all the poems and paintings, all the yearning and searching and exploring, all of the scientific inquiry relates to this cataclysmic struggle, this realization that we’ve been banished, this longing to find our way home. And opposed to that is Satan and everyone he can pervert to his cause of destroying God’s goodness wherever they find it.

But the offspring of the woman would one day crush the serpent’s head. And that hero, our Messiah, would be born at Christmas. One day I’ll live eternally the glory of that historical fact; until then, I look forward longingly toward Jesus’ second coming just as the Jews did for the first.

God with us

This morning I finished my annual read-through of the Bible. I try to wrap up by Thanksgiving because reading Revelation during the Christmas season seems a little odd. But this morning, I decided that the end of Revelation is an awesome transition into Advent.

Take this excerpt from Revelation 21:1-4, for example: “Then I saw ‘a new heaven and a new earth,’ for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death” or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’”

God with us – Immanuel – is the name of my church. It’s one of the names by which Jesus is prophesied in the Old Testament. And here, in this vision of heaven, is the key fact that what makes it heaven is that God dwells with his people. 

This is the basic promise of Christmas – that after centuries of separation from God, begun with the original sin in the Garden of Eden – we will once again be re-united with God. That chasm created by our waywardness, bridgeable only by our blood, has been spanned, or better yet, filled in by the cross. God walked with Adam and Eve in the garden, and he will be with us again in the new heaven and new earth. 

In the words of the children’s bible we read to our grandkids, this is the start of God’s great rescue plan. We enter the Advent season, pointing us toward Christmas. God with us, the promise, became reality – that’s what we commemorate. We live that reality in part now, with free access to an ever-present God and the constant companionship of the Holy Spirit – that’s the outcome of Christmas. And all of it is a foreshadowing of what awaits us in the new Jerusalem. 

No more death or crying or pain. God dwelling among us. The amazing ending to the greatest story ever told – our story.

thankful

It’s Thanksgiving – happy Thanksgiving, everyone! By now I’m sure your kids have brought home their pilgrim crafts, and the turkey is on its way to the oven, if not there already. 

This year, I’m having a little trouble with the holiday. I’m discouraged that for so many, it’s a day of food and football. A lot of people won’t make it to church today, and devotions won’t be a prominent part of many meals. In fact, an informal poll I took at work showed that the most common thing people are thankful for is a long weekend. What happened to being thankful for a job?

I’m so well off that sometimes I forget to be thankful. But today, tinged with a feeling of sadness for the secular way most of the country observes the holiday, I feel profoundly grateful.

I’m spending my first Thanksgiving in a brand new house, something I never thought I’d own. Together, my high-school sweetheart and I are making it a home, the fifth in our 34 years of marriage. 

She and I will go to church in a while - she plans worship and plays piano, and I’m going to help lead. I know it will be a wonderful service. My best friends will be there, as well as my mom and dad and my daughter and her family.

Then I’m going to spend today with family, people I love one and all, and even though we probably voted for at least three different candidates we won’t care enough to talk about it. The fellowship is going to be as great as the food. 

These are blessings I’ll enjoy today, but they’re part of my life always, along with good health, a great job, and peaceful community, and material wealth. But the greatest blessing of all is the one I read about this morning, in Revelation 20:11-12 “Then I saw a great white throne and him who was seated on it. The earth and the heavens fled from his presence, and there was no place for them. And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Another book was opened, which is the book of life.”

So I just want to take a moment and say, “Thank you, Jesus, for writing the book of life and putting my name in it. That would have been more than enough, but thank you too for all these amazing things in this awesome life I have.” Amen.

lady

Once, years ago at a business seminar, I heard a speaker talk about how he achieved exemplary service at the hotel chain he worked with. He explained that all of the staff, from the managers to the maids, were rigorously trained in one key concept: “We’re ladies and gentlemen serving ladies and gentlemen.” That was a powerful idea for people not used to being seen in those terms. It implied a level of behavior that came to define the entire chain of hotels.

I thought of that this morning as I read from 2 John. John starts his second letter this way, in chapter  1 verses 1-3 “To the lady chosen by God and to her children, whom I love in the truth—and not I only, but also all who know the truth— because of the truth, which lives in us and will be with us forever: Grace, mercy and peace from God the Father and from Jesus Christ, the Father’s Son, will be with us in truth and love.”

I love it that John addresses the church as “the lady.” If that’s who we are, we should act like it.

Ladies are well-mannered and gracious, even with – especially with – those who can do nothing for them. Ladies are modest. They are a model of appropriate deportment, in dress, appearance, and conduct, in all situations. 

One of the defining characteristics of a lady is that she welcomes everyone, is kind to everyone, and therefore is admired by everyone.

Today I’m thinking of the great ladies I’ve known, and seeing in them a model for the church. I think that captures what is meant by doing things appropriately, and with good order. If we’re a lady, let’s act like it.

wholesome thinking

Is it possible for a truism to get more true over time? It seems like the longer I live, the more powerful the concept becomes that what I put in my mind, and what I choose to think and think about, has a profound influence on how my day goes.

This certainly isn’t a new idea. Peter wrote about it thousands of years ago, in II Peter 3:1-2: “Dear friends, this is now my second letter to you. I have written both of them as reminders to stimulate you to wholesome thinking. I want you to recall the words spoken in the past by the holy prophets and the command given by our Lord and Savior through your apostles.”

What we put in our heads is so important that Peter wrote two letters with the purpose of making sure we were looking at the right things. He wanted to direct the early church, and all Christians, to dwell on the writings of the holy prophets and the words of Jesus they brought to us.

In a typical day I absorb a lot of information, and I’m sure some or maybe even much of it is suspect. We’re learning that what we see on TV is brought to us with some bias. We’re learning that what passes for news on social media is at best likely to be one-sided, and could very well be completely made up. And even the true things I expose myself to often are not likely to focus me on the things of God. I know more about the deviant behavior of evil men and the amoral actions of celebrities than I do about the lives of our missionaries, for example.

So how do I correct that? How do I make sure that the words of Peter, Paul, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John are dominating my thoughts? How do I keep what they teach us about Jesus foremost?

It’s an important question because these are the things that will shape my desires, my attitudes and my actions. If I get wound up in the secular prognostications about social or political issues, if I get sidetracked by what they’re calling identity politics, if I wander too far down the pop culture bunny trail, I’m going to lose my focus, and lose my way.

Obviously I need to immerse myself in scripture, but I can’t spend the whole day there. Eventually I have to put down the Bible and go to work. Life demands my attention. So how do I continue to think wholesome things in an unwholesome world?

It’s another thing I’m going to have to work out. 

submit

 “Submit yourselves for the Lord’s sake to every human authority: whether to the emperor, 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 people. Live as free people, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as God’s slaves. Show proper respect to everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, honor the emperor.” 1 Peter 2 13-17

It’s worthwhile to note that at the time Peter wrote this to the Christian churches, pretty much  all of them were under Roman rule. They lived under the boot of an occupying power that they longed to be free of. They had plenty of reasons to think their emperor, as well as Caesar, were illegitimate rulers. They had all kinds of reasons to resist.

Yet Peter tells them to submit to every human authority. Actually, he lays out four different relationship guidelines: respect everyone, love believers, fear God, and honor the emperor. So this admonishment is not just a matter of respecting the office but feeling free to trash-talk the person. We’re called to honor them. 

I think this is going to be hard for a while. There are some leaders in my denomination whose motives I question. I wonder sometimes if some of my managers at work are mailing it in.  There is a newly-elected state representative that didn’t impress me much during the campaign. And, of course, there’s national politics. 

So how do I do this? How do I honor people I think are amoral, or power-hungry, or out of touch, or bought and paid for? 

I think the how is closely linked to the why: that by doing good I should silence the ignorant talk of foolish people. We can do that by living as free people, meaning that we recognize that now that we’re free of sin’s bondage, no leader can enslave us again. 

God’s people should be above reproach. We shouldn’t give either side cause to point fingers, and we do that by following that simple set of four guidelines: respect everyone, love believers, fear God, and honor our leaders. 

I can see what’s expected of me. I’m going to need a lot of help to do it. Another thing to pray about.

mercy and peace

Sometimes real life comes closer to satire than any comedian. I read yesterday of a high school “Love Trumps Hate” demonstration that ended when several demonstrators beat a Trump-supporting classmate so badly he had to go to the hospital. No doubt the victim tried in some way to provoke the crowd, and high school logic didn’t see the compromise to their message in this disproportionate response. That story seems to me to capture our reactions to this election season – all the nonsensical beating at the air and each other, the desire for the affirmation of our own kind and the discomfiture of all others. And the ready acceptance that people deserve pain and suffering for disagreeing with us. It flows both ways.

It occurred to me this morning as I read through James that that book would make an excellent handbook on relationships, especially relationships between groups. It seems like the vaccine against identity politics.

Take this little gem, from James 1:12-13: “Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment.”

Two things here. First, we should extend to those we disagree with the same respect and consideration, the same mercy, that we want to receive, because we’ll be paid back in kind. Second, mercy can defuse and deflate a judgmental attitude; in the end, mercy wins people over while judgment just widens the gap. 

Here’s another, from James 2:17-18: “But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness.”

Those who seek peace, who try to bring peace, are the righteous ones, and they will be rewarded. That suggests that those on either side who take a “no compromise, no fraternizing with the enemy” approach aren’t righteous and should expect much of a spiritual reward. We need to avoid rhetoric like “there’s no such thing as a good Trump voter” or “time for all those liberals to make good on their threat to leave.”

I think these two passages, along with all the things James says about good works and telling the truth and praying, would make an excellent lens for us to view this transition through. When we consider calls to limit rights to demonstrate, or defund colleges who provide safe spaces and counseling, or register people based on religion, or disband the Electoral College, we should ask if they represent mercy or judgment. We should look for the proposals that are designed to bring peace rather than punishment. Paybacks are playground logic.

A lot of Trump folks are pointing at a different sort of transition in 2008, but I remember whining and angst and “not my president” back then too. Conservatives felt excluded because liberals gloated. Both sides need to remember what that felt like. And we all need to remember that being right isn’t as important as being merciful or peaceful.

hospitality

A while back I picked up a hitch-hiker. I ended up wishing I hadn’t – he was drunk, he badly needed a shower, and his filthy backpack made a mess of the back seat. But I rode with him for four hours, from just north of Cedar Rapids to the junction of Highway 20 and Highway 4. And I listened.

He was homeless, on his way to the West Coast where he though it would be easier to winter over on the streets. He’d been in Coralville where an old friend had offered him a room and got him a job, but he messed that up by sleeping with the friend’s wife, so he was back on his own again. He had a daughter – wife left him years ago – but she had given up on him too. I had no idea how to engage this guy, so I just listened.

But then he talked about his hope – he knew Jesus, and knew that there was hope in Jesus. He’d been trying to make Jesus happy in Coralville but it had been so long since he’d had an intimate relationship he couldn’t handle the temptation. He was so devastated and discouraged by what he’d done to his old friend that he crawled into a bottle and wasn’t sure he’d ever crawl out again. But he wanted to, and he wanted to become a person who could please Jesus.

I offered to help him find an agency that could help him, at least with a hot meal and a bed for the night, but he didn’t want that. So at the truck stop I bought him a meal and we ate together, and I prayed for him in the parking lot.  The car reeked of cheap beer and body odor the rest of the way home. 

But I felt cautiously good about it. I felt like I’d encouraged him. I felt that Jesus would certainly know about this man who want to please him, and Jesus wouldn’t leave that man by himself. I want to believe he somewhere found a safe place to be. 

This morning, on my way through Hebrews, I got to chapter 13 verse 2: “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.”

I doubt this man was an angel, but he was a brother and a fellow image-bearer. Maybe there was an angle somewhere in the vicinity; maybe for a minute I did the work of an angel. I know for sure that I haven’t been able to get this man out of my mind; he has forced me to think a lot about homeless people and how much glee Satan must have when his whispered lies succeed in running lives into the ditch. 

Hospitality takes many forms, but I think its most precious manifestation is when it is offered to strangers, especially strangers in need, strangers with nothing to offer. If the pessimistic are right, we’re going to see more and more of them. Even if they’re wrong, there are more than enough needy strangers right now. 

So I’m watching for more opportunities. I’ll even accept the body odor and stained seat – it’s a fair trade for a chance to be Jesus’ hands and feet to a wandering soul.

love and good deeds

As much as I want to care for the people who are obviously hurting after the election, I have to confess I’m getting to a point of overload. As a white man, I don’t experience this the same way they do, even though I’m didn’t get my preferred outcome to the election either. I get that. I also get that racism and sexism and a lot of ugly things exist. But after a week of blogs and Twitter posts about surviving the election and providing safe spaces, it’s starting to feel like so much wheel-spinning. 

As a guy who left home a few weeks before his 18th birthday to go to Basic Training (no safe spaces there!) and never went back, I may not be the best one to nurture less-resilient 18-year-olds through this, much as I’d like to. I’m willing to wear a safety pin if that’s what people need, but it doesn’t seem like much. I want something concrete, something I can do. 

Reading from Hebrews this morning, I read this familiar passage again, in chapter 10 verses 19-25: “Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”

For whatever reason, this is helpful to me, especially the part about encouraging each other – no, spurring one another on – toward love and good deeds. That, after all, is both eminently practical and by far the best thing we can do for those who feel marginalized. 

So, after reading several dozen blogs and articles outlining plans to resist the new administration, and to cope with Thanksgiving dinner with family who voted wrong, and to do good self-care to work through the devastation and uncertainty, I’ve finally found a plan that resonates with me: love and good deeds. 

So that's my plan, for the Make America Great Again crowd and the NeverTrump group, for Republicans and Democrats, for men and women and children, for all races and nationalities and abilities and identities. Love and good deeds. And, hopefully, I can also spur a few others toward the same thing.

appropriate

I guess I’ve always thought that doctrine was about belief. I don’t think I ever really considered the question, but it just seemed right. Now, reading in Titus, I realize that it also has to do with behavior. I’m wondering which is more significant.

Titus 2:1-6 says, “You, however, must teach what is appropriate to sound doctrine. Teach the older men to be temperate, worthy of respect, self-controlled, and sound in faith, in love and in endurance. Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can urge the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God. Similarly, encourage the young men to be self-controlled.”

Paul urges the teaching of what is appropriate to sound doctrine, and then gives a list not of things to think but of ways to live, of behaviors. Temperance, self-control, business, kindness . . . These sorts of things, Paul says, are appropriate to our doctrine.

This means that there are also behaviors that aren’t appropriate. I know that, but this is a new reason for me: some things are inappropriate because they don’t match my doctrine. 

I think of doctrine as what I believe to be true about God and what he expects of me. Theology is knowledge of God; doctrine goes beyond that and describes what that means for life. I think of the doctrine of election, for example, which describes how Christians are drawn into a relationship with God. Or the doctrine of the Trinity, which reconciles for us the persons that God reveals in himself. 

So what’s the link between those beliefs and my behaviors? I guess there has to be consistency through all of it. A person who believes the right things will live the right things. A person who doesn’t live the right things calls anything he believes into question. 

It’s kind of weird to think that my angry words can compromise the catechism, but I guess it’s so. It reminds me that there is a lot at stake in the words I let escape my mouth, and the things I let myself do. 

loyal

I write often about the obscure heroes sprinkled throughout scripture. This morning, I noticed another one.

Paul, writing to Timothy in one of the last letters that we know of, had this toward the end (2 Timothy 1:16-18): “May the Lord show mercy to the household of Onesiphorus, because he often refreshed me and was not ashamed of my chains. On the contrary, when he was in Rome, he searched hard for me until he found me. May the Lord grant that he will find mercy from the Lord on that day! You know very well in how many ways he helped me in Ephesus.”

For all I know, Onesiphorus was one of those great Christians who served everyone all the time. Every church has them; my wife is one. Or maybe, he was one of those people who doesn’t seem to ever do much. 

Whichever, to Paul this man was, literally, a Godsend. Even if the only thing he ever did was to help Paul, that was enough to ensure his legacy would endure through the ages. And he did a great job: already a dependable support in Ephesus, Onesiphorus, once he knew Paul was in need, traveled to Rome and searched persistently until he finally located Paul. There he resumed his service to Paul, enabling further one of the greatest ministries the church has ever known.

I’m impressed by a couple of things Onesiphorus didn’t do. He didn’t decide that Rome was too far away, even though by any rational measure it probably was. The travel would take time and be expensive, both factors that would reduce Onesiphorus’ personal wealth and security. But he went anyway.

He also didn’t walk away from Paul because of his reduced status. Paul was a prisoner, and likely never knew physical freedom again. He was a victim, pretty much helpless and fair game for a lot of abuses. There was no advantage whatsoever, and the risk of being judged guilty by association, yet Onesiphorus still helped.

It’s a great reminder to me that, in a time when so many are in need and so many feel marginalized, personal hardship is no excuse for not helping. Neither is concern over what others might think. This singular focus on serving one man, even if he didn’t do anything else, was enough for Paul to enshrine his name in scripture. That’s how much God values our kindnesses to each other.

family

Wearied, as everyone is, by endless post-election rhetoric, little of it loving or even friendly, I was struck this morning by some outstanding relational guidance from Paul to Timothy. In 1 Timothy 5:1-2 he says, “Do not rebuke an older man harshly, but exhort him as if he were your father. Treat younger men as brothers, older women as mothers, and younger women as sisters, with absolute purity.”

What a great concept – let’s just treat everyone we meet like family! Talk to them the same way you would your father, mother, sister or brother!

I know, a lot of us can be pretty snarky with our family, but we don’t really mean it. And as much as we might criticize them, no one else better. We defend them against all outsiders.

So what if there were no outsiders? What if we defended everyone? What if we reasoned respectfully with mature men? What if we cherished and heeded women just like we do our moms? What if young men and women were given the help and protection we give our brothers and sisters?

I can tell you what wouldn’t happen – we wouldn’t flip people off anymore, or flame them on social media. We wouldn’t think it was OK to leer at pretty women, or make those innuendo-laced comments to waitresses or barmaids. We’d head off self-destructive behavior as soon as we noticed it. Abuses of all kinds would pretty much come to an end. 

And we wouldn’t stand by while other people are treated badly because of their gender, skin-color, abilities, or even beliefs. Especially beliefs. Christians know that beliefs are important, and that getting them right is literally a matter of life and death. But we’re the ones who also know that what Jesus modeled for us is to lovingly persuade people who aren’t thinking right. 

When I was a boy divorce was unusual, and we tended to judge those who divorced quite harshly. Then all of us had it happen within our families, and we saw the reasons it happened and the anguish it caused. All of a sudden we couldn’t just turn our backs on them, and our graciousness toward a group of people was greatly increased.

We need, Paul says, to treat everyone that way. In the church, sure, but outside the church too. In the church this guidance deals with how we resolve our differences and do mission together. Outside the church, it’s great advice on how to love people who think differently. Instead of writing them off, or condemning them with harsh language, we should work with them  like we would a wayward brother or sister.

Even if they were dumb enough to vote red, or blue, or third-party, or not at all.

fruition

I’m reminded today that often-times our dreams are the wrong ones. 

In 2 Thessalonians 1:11-12 Paul wrote, “With this in mind, we constantly pray for you, that our God may count you worthy of his calling, and that by his power he may bring to fruition your every desire for goodness and your every deed prompted by faith. We pray this so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

I’m going to assume that Paul knew what he was doing, and that his prayer was in line with God’s will. If so, then it begs a couple of questions.

First, since God isn’t bringing about my every desire, does that mean the unfulfilled ones aren’t truly for goodness? Second, are my deeds that seem fruitless then prompted by something other than faith?

I’m sure it’s more complicated than that, but as I and millions of others are wondering what the next four years looks like, these seem like legitimate questions. I thought what I wanted out of this election was the good of our country. I thought the things I did to engage the process and other voters were prompted by my faith. And yet it feels like rather than fruition, we are, as Jesus once said, being sifted like wheat.

One thing I know: God’s will is that his name be glorified. That’s also Paul’s purpose in this prayer. So maybe God is still in the process of bringing to fruition my good desires and faithful deeds. Probably there are things to come in this presidential term that will be blessings. 

If my worse fears are realized, and government chooses not to include all of God’s image-bearers, the church still can, and I can. That may be God’s purpose in this.

quiet lives

I wonder how many Americans aspire to a quiet life. I’d guess not many, and probably most of those skew toward the senior end of the age demographic. We tend more to think The Most Interesting Man in the World is a better role model than Mr. Rogers. We don’t want to fade into the woodwork, we want to be noticed. We want a voice, we want to be treated with respect. We want to be in the middle of things. We want others to look up to us.

Paul disagrees, which makes me suspect that God does too. Paul wrote this to the church in Thessalonica, in 1 Thessalonians 4:10-12 “. . . .  make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody.”

I have had a lot of ambitions in life, and there are a few left, but they tended to be either accomplishments or experiential. I have had ambitions to military rank, to command, to climbing the corporate ladder. I have had ambitions to travel, to see all the national parks, for example. But I can’t claim to have ever had a quiet life as an ambition.

Mind your own business, Paul says, but he didn’t live in the time of Facebook and Twitter. On social media, everyone else’s business is my business. In fact, memes were invented to make it easy for me to make my disdain for others known. And haven’t we all made other people’s votes our business?

Work with your hands, Paul says, but he didn’t live in the information age. We’re a first-world country. We’ve moved beyond agriculture and manufacturing as the core of our economy, and even beyond being a service economy – we’re an information economy now, where most of our economic advantage comes from our ability to amass and leverage data. Work with my hands? The essence of the American dream is to get past that.

What I hear Paul saying to me is not to be so full of myself. I shouldn’t aspire to have power or influence over people, or to out rank them. I should be happy with honest labor and a focus on my own affairs; what other people are up to is out of my lane.

There are two good reasons for that, Paul says. If I truly live in such an unusual way, people will look at me with admiration and respect, which reflects glory back to God. And also, such focus and willingness to work will ensure that I don’t have to depend on others to support me.

So, a quiet life is a God-honoring life. It’s the opposite of our “look-at-me” culture, our “don’t dis me” demand for that others treat us like we're special. But it’s perfectly in keeping with the revolutionary example of Jesus’ life. 

pleasing God

I don’t really think of myself as a control freak. I’m not OCD, or even CDO (which, as the joke goes, is OCD in alphabetical order like it should be.) I have, however, been accused of both things, and I think it’s because I am a fan of clarity and order. I like to understand why, but most of all I just want to know what to do.

That can make reading Paul hard sometimes, but at other times he shows a real gift for communicating practically about life, packing a lot into a few concise verses. I ran across a passage like that this morning, in Col 1:9-12: 

"We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives, so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light."

These verses are so straightforward: Paul continually prays for a specific thing (knowledge of God’s will) for the Colossians, with a very specific goal (that they may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him). And then, here’s the really good part. Paul gives four concrete ways that my life will please God. He lists bearing fruit, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened, and giving joyful thanks.

That’s what I want! Tell me what obedience looks like. Tell me what I need to do. Sure, there’s a lot to talk about relating to how to do these things, but at least I have something to compare my life to.

Are there good works or behavior changes that qualify as bearing fruit? Do I know more about God as he has revealed himself in scripture? Am I being strengthened daily by living in his strength? How joyful or thankful am I?

This all seems concrete enough to live by. It’s sort of a checklist, but not really – I think of these four as different facets on the same gem of living right. Or maybe different dimensions (think height, width, depth, weight) of the same object. There’s a lot of figuring out still to do, but there’s enough here that I can know if I’m on the right track or not.

I kind of summarize a few actions points: Do (bearing fruit), read (growing in knowledge), pray (being strengthened and giving thanks) and sing (more joyful thanks.) Life and faith are both a lot more complicated than that, but sometimes I need things to be simple enough to remember.

forgetting

I have the worst kind of memory: I can remember in excruciating detail embarrassing or disappointing things I did years ago, decades even. For example, I put in 25 years in the Iowa Guard and had a reputation as a good officer; I achieved things as a part-time solder that most full-timers don’t. And yet, my strongest memories are of those times I messed up, and I wonder if my soldiers thought I was really a light-weight.

That’s why I struggle with Paul’s example, explained by him in Philippians 3:13-14: “But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

How did Paul do it? How did he let go of a lifetime of being a Pharisee, and especially of the baby churches and new Christians he destroyed. What was his secret? Knowing Paul, it had something to do with his ability to make himself completely secondary to the work of Jesus.

As I said, I struggle with that, to the point that it can distract me from the second part of Paul’s actions: straining toward what is ahead. I get distracted from the future, sometimes by the past, and often by the present. I don’t even look at retirement as often as I should, much less what comes after this life.

I should. The prize, as Paul describes it, for which God has called me heavenward is the best thing imaginable; in fact, it’s so good I can’t really imagine it. But I know it’s better than anything in my past, or anything I’m doing today. So why can’t I keep my mind there?

Paul probably had his bad days too. He probably writes this because it’s true more times than not. I should think about the fact that in his human struggles he was still able to write this, because that suggests that, with all those faults and flaws that I still struggle to forget, I can live up to his example.

While I work on forgetting, I need to also work on remembering. I need to let go of my past mistakes, but I need to remember that they’ve already been accounted for by Jesus. My worst sins are forgiven. As someone once said, it takes a special kind of arrogance to refuse to forgive yourself the things that Jesus has.

no Gentiles

One of the most dramatic things about the cross is how it changed the signs in the temple. During Jesus’ time, the temple was posted with “No Gentiles” signs. In fact, these signs warned that any Gentile who tried to enter the temple would be put to death. Paul was arrested one time in Jerusalem because people thought he had taken a Gentile into the temple.

Gentile, of course, is the word Jews use to refer to non-Jews. I would be a Gentile, and so would most of you. So that part of the law was really bad news for us.

But Jesus came, he died, he rose. Eventually he sent Peter to Cornelius as the first welcome of the Gentiles into the new Christian faith. And he sent Paul as a missionary to the Gentiles.

And then we get to this, explained so well in Galatians 3:26-29: “So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.”

The “No Gentiles” signs were changed into “there is neither Gentile or Jew.” Literally, “No Gentiles” now means there aren’t any. What a great sign for the temple – there are no longer any people who are excluded! There’s no longer a reason for Jews to have a word for non Jews. In God’s eyes we’re all the same. And slaves and freemen are equal, and so are men and women. We all are brothers and sisters in Christ, with a new descriptor: Christian.

It's good for me to be reminded that there was a time when my kind were not welcome in God’s house. It should help me be more sympathetic to those I might want to exclude. And it should motivate me to make sure that all people everywhere get the invitation.

giving

Money is one of those touchy topics, but I think Christians need to feel free to challenge each other about appropriate uses for wealth. I say that because Paul really held the early churches accountable for giving.

This morning, in 2 Corinthians 8 and 9, I ready a lengthy passage Paul wrote on just this topic.  He starts out with this challenge (8:7): “But since you excel in everything —in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in complete earnestness and in the love we have kindled in you —see that you also excel in this grace of giving.” 

Two things struck me right away. First, Paul seems to value giving just as highly as he does faith, speech, knowledge, earnestness and love. Second, he calls giving grace, which not only notes that it will likely go where it’s not deserved, but echoes the great gift of our salvation, the ultimate gift of grace.

Then, a little later on, he addresses one of the main points of resistance to giving, then and now. In 8:13, he writes, “Our desire is not that others might be relieved while you are hard pressed, but that there might be equality.” I admit, I cringe at this a little, because it smacks of things we hang negative labels on, like socialism. But it’s possible that Jesus might think more highly of socialism than I do. I’m pretty sure I think too highly of things like personal wealth and advantage.

Paul ends with this promise, which I love, in 9:11: “You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.” Isn’t that great? As an outcome of generous giving, we’ll be enriched in every way, but with a specific purpose: so that we can be generous every time there’s a chance. And there’s a good reason for wanting to do this. The result will be that all those people we give to will give thanks to God.

It’s a reminder that God blesses me not just for my good, but so that I can bless others. It makes me feel like a grumpy old curmudgeon when I critically judge people who need some of my blessing, especially when the government doesn’t give me a choice about who I give to. 

So here’s another goal to add to my list of things that will make me more Christ-like: I want to excel in the grace of giving. If I’m getting Paul right, that means that I’ll look at my wealth as something given to me to use as much for others as myself. And I’ll give it where there’s need without considering whether there’s merit. After all, isn’t that how Jesus gives to me?

veiled hearts

The Jews of Paul’s day had a problem. They were so focused on following rules, they couldn’t see Jesus.

Paul wrote about it to the church in Corinth, 2 Corinthians 3:15-18: “Even to this day when Moses is read, a veil covers their hearts. But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.”

I think Paul is writing about what Jesus did in destroying the veil to the Holy of Holies. Prior to that, our relationship with God was defined by our failures. The laws described what men should do, but the sacrifices acknowledged that men couldn’t. In order to even worship God, blood had to be shed to atone for sin. And the Holy of Holies, that place where once a year God met man, only one man could enter, and it was possible that he might be struck dead. 

Jesus took care of all that. Jesus lived perfectly, obeying every law of God. Jesus died, paying the ultimate blood price for all sin, for all of time. Jesus tore down the curtain that kept men from God’s presence.

People who try in any small way to earn their salvation are still the law-followers; their veiled hearts keep them from seeing what Jesus did. People who put their hope in Jesus have unveiled faces, and are transformed. The image of Moses, whose face was transformed by God’s glory, made to glow so that he had to wear a veil, is such a rich one in this context.

So which kind of Christian am I? Do I every veil my heart? Do I look to the things I do as important to save me? Do I consider following rules a part of salvation? Do I ever feel secure because I’ve lived a good life, or done good things?

Or do I see myself clearly, as a sinner-made-saint by the grace of God alone, a man who becomes more saintly every day that I remember my debt to the God of grace? 

I think mostly I’m the second kind, but I can remember times, recent times, when I was lured back to that old way of thinking. It’s easy to look at the doing side of faith rather than the believing. 

judgment

It’s easy to get the whole judgment thing wrong, backwards even. I want to judge all those people out there who can’t see the truth about Jesus. I want to judge the pagans.

It’s good to be reminded this morning that Paul refused to go down that road. In 1 Corinthians 5:12 I read these words he wrote: “What business is it of mine to judge those outside the church? Are you not to judge those inside? God will judge those outside.”

There are two critical errors I make that Paul points out here. The first is, I tend to give my fellow church members a pass. After all, we in the church like to say, “Don’t judge each other.” If someone shows up on Sunday and supports all the right causes, I’m likely to look at questionable behaviors and think, “That’s between them and God.” 

Paul says here that if someone else chooses to carry the name of Christ, then I and other Christians should hold them accountable. We need to help each other make our faith look as attractive as possible to the world, and at the same time never compromise the hope that it holds.

My second error is what I said at the start: I’m pretty quick to judge all those other people. I’ll judge slow drivers, people with bad grammar, or followers of pointless (to me) hobbies. If I’m that curmudgeonly with these harmless things, imagine how I can get when there’s actual sinning going on.

Again Paul corrects me: My job as it relates to non-believers is to win them over. Of course they sin – they don’t know Jesus yet! They’re still falling for all the things the Father of Lies whispers in their ears. They need to be rescued. 

Today I pray for good judgment, as in, being able to see those instances when I’m the right person to judge. I suspect it will turn out there aren’t very many.