open door

It seems like a scene from a movie: “After this I looked, and there before me was a door standing open in heaven. And the voice I had first heard speaking to me like a trumpet said, ‘Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.’” Revelation 4:1.

I imagine a large door, more like a gate, at the head of a flight of stone steps. It cracks open, blinding light streaming through, and then swings wide. And a voice booms an invitation. Do I go or not? Even knowing I’m in heaven, is that a threshold I want to cross? 

And the invitation isn’t for tea; it’s to see the future. After passing through the door John saw a throne surrounded by 24 other thrones, and strange, flying multi-eyed beasts who constantly praised Jesus. And that’s just the start of a lot of strange things to come. John was going to see the Apocalypse itself.

I think even in a vision it took a lot of courage to walk through that door. And it makes me think of all the invitations from God I’ve received in my life. Sometimes I knew it was God, sometimes I didn’t realize until after, but always there was a thing to do or a place to go. Every time there was a person or people. And it was always clear that what was wanted was an action, a step that would commit me. Sometimes it was to go to a meeting, sometimes to intervene in a conflict. Once it was to put in an application for a license to exhort. 

In all these times, I had doubts. Sometimes I didn’t do it. Often I did. Many times I wished I hadn’t – following where Jesus leads can take you to some messy, uncomfortable places. But every single time I accepted an invitation from God what happened changed me and blessed me and grew me. It was always a good thing in the end.

We talk a lot about doors opening and closing; it’s a useful metaphor. When we do that, we’re talking about opportunities. Sometimes when God pushes a door open and invites me through, it doesn’t look like opportunity. It looks more like that eerie door in the abandoned house that creaks open in the suspense movies. It looks like uncertainty and risk and work, and the reward isn’t readily apparent.

But there is no risk or uncertainty with Jesus, just things he knows that we don’t yet. And trusting him is its own reward.

John reminds me today that God will again at some point open a specific door and invite me to join him in a specific thing. He never compels or coerces, and it’s always my choice. But it’s always a good choice. In the end, I’ve never regretted accepting an invitation from God. I’ve always regretted the ones I looked past.

wretched, blind and naked

Some scriptures are so familiar that they’ve become a part of the language we use. Sometimes when I read them in context I’m surprised at the part we don’t necessarily know.

Take, for example, the warning to the church in Laodicea, when Jesus in this vision called them lukewarm. Look at the passage from Revelation 3: 14-18: “I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth. You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.”

What makes these Christians lukewarm? They think their wealth is enough to meet their needs. They believe because they’re living a good life here on earth their eternal future will be as comfortable. They live without urgency because there isn’t anything they want that they can’t buy.

That’s really sad, because most of the best things in life can’t be bought. Certainly, nothing that will avail against our sin, nothing that will free us from our chains, can be acquired with money. In fact, we can be rich as Croesus and still be wretched, blind and naked in a spiritual sense.

The sweet lure of affluence is it feeds our pride and supports our indulgences at the same time that it numbs our true need. That was the snare that entrapped the church in Laodicea. It seems a legitimate risk for me as well. 

where Satan lives

I live in a small midwestern town, but we’re not as sheltered as we used to be. We still don’t have much crime, but you can find pretty much any sin you go looking for. Maybe what still makes small towns different these days is you have to go looking for sin.

It wasn’t that way in Pergamum. In that Ancient Greek city, there was a church, and this is how Jesus commended that church in Revelation 2:13: “I know where you live—where Satan has his throne. Yet you remain true to my name. You did not renounce your faith in me, not even in the days of Antipas, my faithful witness, who was put to death in your city—where Satan lives.”

Imagine trying to be a church in the city where Satan lives. Historians tell us that Pergamum was full of pagan temples, include no less than three to the Roman emperor, and separate ones for the Roman gods Zeus and Athena, and  one to Asklepios the Greek snake god. As a result, the city abounded with religious rites that involved sex and drugs and drunkenness and all kinds of excess.

Still, there were other cities like that. Pergamum must have been pretty awful for Satan to have made it his home. Unlike God, Satan isn’t omnipresent; he has to be someplace and, according to John’s vision, for a while at least that place was Pergamum.

Even in this wicked place, though, there were faithful disciples of Jesus who stayed true even to the point of death.

I think this is an encouraging word for the American church. Sometimes it seems like my brothers and sisters are falling at an alarming rate. Prominent evangelical leaders seem to succumb to the lure of power, dear brothers and sisters give up their marriages for sex that looks more exciting, and young people explore the darker sides of so-called pleasure made readily available on sites like Craigslist. Hardly a week goes by without news of another banner-carrier for Christ compromising their witness with an unfaithful lifestyle.

Yet in the most evil of places in the ancient world, God preserved for himself a remnant, strong men and women whose staunchness in the face of Satan himself earned a word of commendation from Jesus. He’s doing the same thing here and now.

It makes me remember that there isn’t any temptation I’ll face that can’t be resisted, and that all evil and the Father of Evil himself are powerless against Jesus. The church in Pergamum didn’t conquer that wicked city, but they didn’t give in either. And that was good enough.

There’s a lot of compromise in our churches these days, a lot of going along with bad things that for various reasons look good. But there are still those faithful ones who don’t give in, and we need to find each other. There’s strength in numbers.

word and testimony

I wonder, do I really dare to ask God for an important mission? Do I really want what might come if I make myself fully and freely available for him to use?

The Apostle John wrote Revelation as a testimony; in fact, he starts it this way, in Revelation 1:1-2: “The revelation from Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place. He made it known by sending his angel to his servant John, who testifies to everything he saw—that is, the word of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ.”

That’s pretty standard stuff for the New Testament. But, remembering that John was exiled as punishment for evangelizing, I was struck later on, in verse 9, by a repeated phrase: “I, John, your brother and companion in the suffering and kingdom and patient endurance that are ours in Jesus, was on the island of Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus.”

The word of God and the testimony of Jesus were at once the reason for John’s hope and the passion that drove him, but they were also the cause of his persecution. Following Jesus had gained him, in his words, suffering and patient endurance. What’s more, his readers were living the same things.

Is that what it means to be a Jesus-follower? When I live for the word of God and the testimony of Jesus, do I have to be ready to suffer for it too? The answer is, of course. That’s something I learned in catechism classes and from sermons ever since. Jesus said his followers would be persecuted.

So why, after all these decades of faithful following, do I still hope it never happens to me?

And, if I’m a true disciple of Jesus, why hasn’t it yet?

all glory

Jude is one of those books I hardly ever read. It’s a hard letter, very negative, all about sin. This morning I was drawn to the the final lines, in verses 24 and 25: “To him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy— to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen.”

I was attracted to the idea that Jesus would keep me from stumbling and present me to God one day. That’s comforting. But as I re-read those verses, I realized that they pointed me to my own sin.

Here’s my problem: I want glory and power and authority for myself. I wonder this morning, as often as I’ve read or prayed or sung words giving these things to God, how often I’ve meant it completely.

How do I reconcile giving all glory to God with my thirst for praise from other people? And if I really want him to have the power and authority, why do I so often resent his leadership?

This morning these words seem a direct challenge to my desire to control my own life. They’re a call to humility and servanthood when I want to be the hotshot business executive who made it to the top of the ladder. 

“To the only God our savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen.” Today I’m praying for strength to live as though I really mean those words.

examples

Often as I read the Bible, there’s casual mention of people I wish I knew more about. For various reasons they seem interesting, or sometimes they just seem so normal that they’re very relatable.

John’s third letter has several of these people. He addresses the letter to Gaius, who must have been a pretty good guy. Gaius, unlike many of us, had no fear of strangers and aliens. Here’s what John wrote about him, in verses 1: “To my dear friend Gaius, whom I love in the truth. . . . It gave me great joy when some believers came and testified about your faithfulness to the truth, telling how you continue to walk in it. I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.

“Dear friend, you are faithful in what you are doing for the brothers and sisters, even though they are strangers to you. They have told the church about your love. Please send them on their way in a manner that honors God.” 

Gaius wasn’t the only good person in that church. In verses 11 and 12, John wrote about another man, Demetrius, who everyone liked, and the context is interesting here: “Dear friend, do not imitate what is evil but what is good. Anyone who does what is good is from God. Anyone who does what is evil has not seen God. Demetrius is well spoken of by everyone —and even by the truth itself. We also speak well of him, and you know that our testimony is true.”

John, in effect, is saying, “Be like Demetrius. He’s a guy who does good and not evil; everyone says so, even God.”

But this is a normal church, and not everyone is commendable. In fact, it looks like in this church the leadership might be problematic. In verse 9 here’s what John had to say: “I wrote to the church, but Diotrephes, who loves to be first, will not welcome us.” Here’s a person who sees John as a threat; he likes being the biggest fish in this little pond, and fears that if an actual apostle shows up people won’t treat him that way anymore. 

I think John offers us some examples here. We can be self-centered like Diotrephes, but notice that even though he’s clawed his way to the top, he still doesn’t seem secure. He sees others as threats. That can’t be much fun.

Or we can be like Demetrius, who just plain does the right thing almost all the time. Demetrius the good. Another great example would be Gaius, who shows hospitality to people that other people shun. Either way, two men who are trying to live like Jesus.

Interesting, isn’t it, that the man who wants all the attention has, in the end, earned only negative remarks, while the other two are praised. I think that tells us a lot about how Jesus sees his church.

fellowship

Happy Thanksgiving! Today should be a day of church and fellowship; that’s what John would have said, anyway.

Reading 2 John this morning I was struck by how John ended this letter, in verse 12: “I have much to write to you, but I do not want to use paper and ink. Instead, I hope to visit you and talk with you face to face, so that our joy may be complete.”

For John, face to face was best. Physical presence was necessary if you wanted complete joy. John was a great letter writer, and I assume he got letters as well, but that couldn’t begin to substitute for the happiness of getting back together. And he addresses this letter to “the lady chosen by God and her children” – the bride of Christ, the church, and it’s members – and signs it “the children of your sister, chosen by God” – a sister church. To him, complete joy came from fellowship with the family of God.

That’s a great reminder for today. We could choose to stay home and watch the parade on TV. We could choose to hole up and watch TV. We could hook up with friends and family on Facebook, safely separated by distance and a tiny screen, able to disconnect any time we want.

But the joy of Thanksgiving comes from everything we share with each other. Our fellow brothers and sisters and cousins, all the children of Christ’s dear ladies, know the same gratitude we do, thankfulness that can only come from finally being free, or at least in the process of becoming free, of all the bad outcomes of our bad choices. Our families know our history, almost every detail of it, and have been there through it all. We need to be together today; we have so much to share, so much to say to each other, and we need to do it face to face.

So I hope your worship is wonderful, and the food is plentiful, and you get to be with people you like and there are lots of laughs and maybe some tears. I hope the people you spend your day with are people you can pray with. If not, you’re probably doing a good thing but it won’t be fellowship the way God meant it to be.

not heavy

You know the biggest mistake people who don’t know Jesus make about Jesus? That’s he’s a hard Lord to follow. That he’s all about demands and sacrifice and just wants to forbid anything fun. That ultimately he judges and condemns.

John knew better. Look what he wrote in 1 John 5:2-5: “This is how we know that we love the children of God: by loving God and carrying out his commands. In fact, this is love for God: to keep his commands. And his commands are not burdensome, for everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith. Who is it that overcomes the world? Only the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God.”

Anyone who has lived with Jesus for any amount of time knows better. We know, as John knew, that even though obedience is hard sometimes, obeying never makes life harder. Life always gets easier and better when we follow God’s commands.

There’s a good reason for that, an obvious one. God made this world and he made me. He knows how life works. He is very aware of what will make things go smoothly and what will bring pain. And so he gives us, the ones he loves, instructions in how to life a joyful, productive, meaningful life.

There are a lot of liars in this world, people who repeat the propaganda of the Father of Lies. They tell us that God has it wrong, that casual and variable sex is more fun than marriage, and drunkenness is necessary to have a good time, and cheating is an advantage as long as you don’t get caught. But that kind of disobedience is, unlike obedience, extremely burdensome. That life brings addictions and diseases and loneliness and broken relationships and guilt. That’s a heavy load.

God’s commands aren’t burdensome. Someone once said, “God only tells us to do what we would do anyway if we knew everything God knows.” Obeying God gives us clear consciences and wonderful relationships and true joy. Where Satan would hand us a backpack full of bricks, God picks up the load for us, and let’s us walk through life unburdened. 

What John is telling us is Jesus makes us winners at life. Over-comers. His requirements aren’t heavy at all.

false teaching

There are a lot of different things said about God these days, ranging from “He doesn’t exist,” to “He’s going to take everyone to heaven.” Most of them are obviously wrong, but sometimes it’s hard to be certain. Are people bringing us true words of God or not?

It turns out there’s a way to know that, too. John tells us how, in 1 John 4:6: “We are from God, and whoever knows God listens to us; but whoever is not from God does not listen to us. This is how we recognize the Spirit of truth and the spirit of falsehood.”

Ever notice there are some people you can’t even talk to? They dismiss everything you say at best; at worst they won’t even discuss things with you. Well, John says that’s a surefire way to identify a false prophet.

That’s because humility is a consistent trait of God’s true servants. No real Christian will ever refuse to sit and seek the truth from scripture with you, or pray over your differences. People who are really living close to God will be gentle and patient in persuading you, and will also be open to counsel themselves. 

So, no mic-drops between Christian brothers and sisters. No one-way conversations or lectures. No final words or destroying opponents or shutting them down. Jesus-followers are always willing to listen to others.

You can see why it’s a clear way to spot someone bringing false teachings. It’s so counter-cultural, so radically different from the way everyone else acts.

It’s also a good way to tell when we’re getting off track. When we’d rather shut down someone else than listen, it’s a good time to ask if we’re talking truth or just our opinion or preference.

how we know

I think every Christian wonders once in a while whether he or she is really saved. Often, we wonder because we look at the way we live, or maybe just all the things hidden inside.

When we do that, we’re on the right track. Look at this from 2 John 3:24: “The one who keeps God’s commands lives in him, and he in them. And this is how we know that he lives in us: We know it by the Spirit he gave us.”

There is, John says, a way to know for sure. If we sense the Spirit, then we know that we belong to Jesus. The Spirit, after all, is a way we know the triune God, so that evidence is as conclusive as it gets.

But how do we know if the Spirit is in us? Well, Paul told us that in Ephesians. He explained that the Spirit will produce fruit in our lives, and he even told us what that fruit would be. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

You see why we wonder?

Sometimes, in traffic or at work or when we disagree at church, we don’t see the fruit. Those are barren seasons, times of no harvest. Our spiritual tree seems bare. But even in those bad times, there are signs of green life.

Because other times we see fruit. Maybe not on every branch, and maybe it isn’t very big. But sometimes we’re thoughtful and kind and generous. Sometimes we have gentle words instead of harsh ones, and joyful thoughts instead of cynical ones. Sometimes we promote peace instead of conflict. On certain days we can even wait patiently instead of demanding answers or solutions. And we know, because that’s not how we are by ourselves, that the Spirit is at work.

There is a way to know for sure. Jesus himself told us you’ll never get good fruit from a bad tree.

adjectives

One of the rules we were taught in office training was this: write it first with no adjectives or adverbs. Just verbs and nouns, subjects and objects. That will communicate information at it’s most basic. Then, add the descriptors only where the basic message doesn’t communicate adequately. It’s hard to do, but in a bureaucracy like the government rules encouraging plain communication are helpful.

Maybe for that reason, I tend to pay attention to the absence of adjectives. Those missing words caught my eye this morning in 1 John 2:9-11: “Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates a brother or sister is still in the darkness. Anyone who loves their brother and sister lives in the light, and there is nothing in them to make them stumble. But anyone who hates a brother or sister is in the darkness and walks around in the darkness. They do not know where they are going, because the darkness has blinded them.”

Notice there are no adjectives related to “brother or sister.” It doesn’t say good or godly or honest or friendly or hard-working or beautiful. It doesn’t say bad or untrustworthy. There is nothing here to hint at whether our brothers or sisters deserve love or hatred.

I can’t believe the Holy Spirit, guiding John in this letter, was not aware that an adjective is a good way to add necessary meaning. Instead, it seems more likely that in this case adjectives would add nothing at all. If true, that would mean that to John, and to God, the degree to which our brothers and sisters deserve love or hatred has nothing to do with the topic at hand.

This isn’t about them, it’s about me. Showing love proves I’m a person of the light, a person close to God. Hatred shows the opposite. This isn’t about what others do to provoke a reaction in me, it’s about how I reflect God’s nature to people around me. God is love, therefore Christians love.

I wanted there to be adjectives because I’d like this piece of God’s word to give me a little more wiggle room than this. But it doesn’t.

light and darkness

My dad used to say, “Nothing good happens after midnight.” He’d say that when we were discussing my curfew, so I don’t think he was making any grand metaphysical statements, but regardless how narrow the scope of his argument, it captured a core truth. Bad things happen in the dark because bad people don’t like to be seen.

The John used darkness and light as a major theme in his letters, starting right away in 1 John 1:5-7: “This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.”

I sometimes think of God as a flame. Close to him there is light and warmth, but the farther you walk from the fire, the more shadows there are. Eventually you move out of the light and into the darkness where no one can see you.

But here’s the thing: you can’t be in the darkness and be in the light. You have to choose either the fire or the dark. In the same way, if you metaphorically live your life in the darkness, you can’t claim to be a child of the light. If you shun the firelight and love the shadow, that reveals what you really are.

That’s because evil cannot exist where God is, just as bright light drives away darkness. In fact, darkness isn’t actually a thing by itself; darkness is just the absence of light. Anywhere light goes, darkness recedes. Darkness has no power whatsoever against light.

That’s really cool, for this reason: even a small candle, like I am compared to God, pushes back the darkness. When I’m close to God there is no darkness at all. When I enter someone else’s darkness, even my little bit of reflected God-light is enough to start pushing the evil back.

Light and dark are absolute opposites, which is why no matter what we say, our deeds show our true selves. True Christians are drawn close to the light; anyone who is drawn to the dark therefore is lying if he claims to be a Christian.

So the key is to make my actions and my affinities, the things I’m attracted to, prove my claims to be a Jesus-follower. And if that’s hard, I’d better start digging into why.

spotless

It’s been a long time since I was a cadet (officer in training, not Calvinist Cadet Corps, which was even longer). I was reminded just how long recently when I listened to a young former officer talk on one of the news networks. This young man obviously went through a different training regimen than I did.

When I went through, personal honor was a big deal. Right was right and wrong was wrong, situational ethics were not a thing, and officers were expected to do the right thing. “An officer does not lie, cheat or steal, or tolerate those who do.” The military code of honor and your personal code of honor defined who you were, and officers routinely did hard things to ensure there wasn’t the hint of a blot on their honor. 

I don’t think I have to explain why this way of training and thinking makes me feel old. We’re in a different world now.

We shouldn’t be, but not because of out-dated notions of military honor. 2 Peter 3:14 says, “So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him.”

The “this” that Peter explains we’re looking forward to is the culmination of our salvation in heaven. But his expectation is the same as my tac officers all those years ago: not a spot on my name. Blameless behavior. Not because my own name is so important, but because I bear the name of Jesus. 

God’s standards are higher than any expectation I faced as a cadet, yet I’m far less concerned about an occasional smudge on my Christian honor. I care enough not to let others see them, but I know God can tell. I need to think about that. 

springs without water

Boy, Peter really didn’t like false teachers. Anyone who argued a different way of life than following Jesus was a bad person in Peter’s book.

Look at the names he has for them just in 2 Peter 2: followers of corrupt desires, bold and arrogant, blasphemers, unreasoning animals (born only to be caught and destroyed), blots and blemishes, experts in greed, an accursed brood, springs without water, mists driven by a storm, slaves of depravity, dogs that return to their own vomit, sows that return to wallowing in the mud.

Is Peter too hard on people? Because we’re more tolerant than that. We call them unfortunate and misguided. We say they’re just followers of a different lifestyle, making different choices than us. We say they have illnesses or disadvantages. But we would never use harsh terms like the ones Peter used.

I can put a name to drunks and partiers, to idolaters and adulterers, to atheists and syncretists and greedy people and power-mongers who live their lives unchallenged as part of our churches and communities. It’s probably OK that we don’t challenge unbelievers in the community, but I wonder if we shouldn’t be bolder calling out sin in the church.

Because isn’t that a courageous form of love? Peter not only is right, he points out in verses 4 through 10 of 2 Peter 2 how God has judged unrighteousness in the past. Do we really not love each other enough to want to save each other?

Because Peter isn’t saying sinners aren’t worthy of love. He says God’s wayward people are so precious that anyone who lures them away from God through bad teaching or bad examples is an especially heinous person. Peter is against all those voices in our culture who, like the woman Folly in Proverbs 9, lure others to join them in their sin.

Here’s the thing I’m wrestling with this morning, though: when we as the church wink at sin in the church, we may not be encouraging it but we aren’t discouraging it either. So when have we crossed the line and become springs without water ourselves?

everything we need

I don’t always have life together, but when I don’t, it’s my own fault. God provides generously, and he has never shorted me the things I need.

Peter put it this way, in 2 Peter 1:3-4: “His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.”

I don’t lack anything necessary to live well and please God. I have it all. If I don’t live that way, it’s because I didn’t do my part. If I work at knowing God better, then I’ll remember and tap into everything he’s promised me. That’s what Peter reminds me of here, that knowing God and his promise in some mysterious way helps us be more like God and less like this world. 

So on my hard days, I can remember that God has promised that he has a plan to prosper me, and that he’ll work all things together for my good. I can recall his promise to always give me a way out of temptation. I can remember his promise to be a loving God who provides for me. And if I remember those things, then I can live the way God wants me to live. I’ll be able to resist evil desires and escape corruption.

Everything I need, if I just live out what I know to be true about God and what he’s committed to. But I have to have that knowledge to start with. If I’m not spending time reading about him and getting to know him personally, I won’t have anything to fall back on.

As with so many things, it comes back to Scripture and prayer.

humility

I was teaching safety the other day and we were talking about having a safety-first culture. Everyone assured me that safety was the most important thing, until I pointed out the reasons employees do unsafe things: trucks are waiting, customers need paint, they’re in a hurry and the safety gear is in another room. In the end, a lot of things are put before safety.

This morning, my reading from 1 Peter made me realize that the same dynamic of human nature is at work with call to humility. Look at this from 1 Peter 5:5-17: 

“All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because,

“‘God opposes the proud

but shows favor to the humble.’

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”

We all know that Christians are supposed to be humble, and we claim our commitment to humility whenever the topic comes up. But are we putting actions behind our words? Humility involves putting others before ourselves, after all. Do we do that?

Am I really a humble person in traffic or in checkout lines, all those times when waiting for other people to go first or be served first grates on me? Isn’t my impatience and frustration an indication that I really think I should go first?

At work, do I want others to succeed before I do? Do I spend my days building my own empire, or pouring into others? Do I speak first and listen second? 

How about at church? Do I complain about the music and criticize the pastor? Am I that naysayer who’s always against change? Or do I think first of what will bless other people, and get my fulfillment from their joy?

Humility is hard, because I want to put myself first, but self-first is just another way of saying I think I’m most important, and if that isn’t pride, I don’t know what would be. And the Bible clearly says that God opposes proud people and favors humble ones. 

I think I’m more humble than I used to be, but I still see it wrong. I see it as something I work at, when Peter teaches me in the end that humility is found in resting in God. Instead of feeling like I have to assert myself in traffic or at work or church, I trust that God will meet my needs. I let him take care of all the anxious things I think I have to control. When I do that, I no longer compete with other people, so I can truly care about them.

That still doesn’t sound easy, but it’s a way to get started.

loving sinners

A friend of mine often says, “My church is full of dirty, rotten sinners, and that’s why I fit in.” It’s his way of saying Christians, himself included, aren’t any better than anyone else. Apart from Jesus, we struggle with sin.

Fortunately, one key characteristic of Christians that may be found less often outside the church is love. 1 Peter 4:8-10 says, “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.”

Love works two ways in the church. It covers over my sins because by my love I help others see the best in me and not the worst. But in loving, I’m prompted to see others at their best and excuse their worst.

Peter also tells us some good ways to love. We can offer hospitality. Although some are especially good at it, this is a basic requirement of every Christian.When we see people who are lonely or don’t have much, we can always invite them in for a meal and some fellowship.

But each of us has specific gifts too, and those were give to us not for our own benefit, but for the church’s. Whatever that special area is, it’s a direct way that God intends us to show love.

It makes for a neat formula, the kind of thing I find nice for applying scripture to life: in order to cover over a multitude of sins, mine and other people’s, I show love through hospitality and by using my gifts. Sounds simple, but imagine if we all did it.

good answers

I was taught once, and took to heart, that if you serve people and live gratefully, that will look noticeably different and eventually people will ask why. That’s when you have a chance to tell them about Jesus.

I think whoever taught me that may have learned it from 1 Peter 3:15-16: “But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander.”

Always be ready to tell people when they ask what you hope in and why. Peter is pretty sure that we’ll be asked this question, and he wants us to think about it ahead of time. What will we say when the moment arrives? If we’re surprised, we probably won’t answer very well.

There’s one catch, though: we have to obviously have hope. Hopeless people will never be asked this question. No one is interested in hearing from defeated or cynical or bitter people; those kinds of people can’t tell us how to live fuller lives.

This world gives us plenty of reasons to live negative lives. It can seem like evil is winning. It can seem like most people are bad. It can seem like life is random.

It can seem like it, but none of those things are true. Jesus is Lord, and Satan and death are already defeated. All of life is under his control, and by God’s common grace most people want to overcome their worst nature. 

Jesus is the source of our hope, and he’s the only source of hope that makes sense in a world like ours. So let’s live like victorious, hopeful people. If we do that, then we’d better take Peter’s advice and be prepared to tell people why.

keeping it simple

Sometimes scripture is so remarkable in it’s clarity that it can, in a single well-drafted sentence, completely simplify something that I make too complicated. 1 Peter 2:17 is just such a sentence: “Show proper respect to everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, honor the emperor.”

One simple, declarative statement that clears the fog on four key relationships.

To all other people on earth, I am to show proper respect. That doesn’t mean I agree with them or even like them, but regardless of the differences we have, every single person deserves to be treated with dignity and kindness. I should find ways to interact, whether that interaction is neighborly or transactional or some sort of conflict, that reinforce the basic, God-created value of every person.

To other Christians, I must show love. They might be too charismatic, or not give enough money, or too bossy, or want the wrong kind of music. It doesn’t matter; these are the beloved bride of Jesus and he he expects me to love all of them.

God is to be feared. While I love him as a Father and value him as a friend and provider, I must never lose sight of the reality that he is, in fact, God. If I make him a buddy, I lose the healthy respect I should have for his power and his holiness. The angels covered their faces when in the presence of God, and I’m supposed to retain that fear as well.

And I am to honor the emperor. Really, that’s what scripture says. Donald Trump, by virtue of his position, is to be upheld. Had Hillary Clinton been elected, the same would hold. What Peter is calling for here is that we stand in support of authority because God instituted political authority to provide order. The opposite is chaos, and chaos is where the devil does his work. So honoring the emperor is the way we respect God’s plan for ordering our societies.

There it is. Every relationship I have and will ever have, explained to me in just a handful of words. The lack of qualifications is telling; Peter doesn’t give us any exceptions. There are no cases where we can exclude someone. For every person on earth, we have a simple rule to follow. Every situation that screams for civil disobedience or confrontation or separation, as justified as those things might be, can therefore somehow be accomplished without diminishing the other people involved.

It’s a high bar, but then every standard given by Jesus is high. At least it’s not hard to understand.

going native

There’s a lot you can read these days on how to live your life. Prosperity, fitness, leisure, and power are all big-money industries, with books and seminars and trainers and life coaches. Many of my fellow Christians are living in pursuit of one of these lifestyles. We so easily are led to believe that money and beauty and power and recreation are the sources of joy.

In his first letter, Peter reminds us that all of these things are distractions at best. Here’s what he wrote in 1 Peter 1:17-19: “Since you call on a Father who judges each person’s work impartially, live out your time as foreigners here in reverent fear. For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect.”

Peter points out several facts that should make us stop and think. First, God judges our work, what we do. We want him to look at our intentions, but he wants to see fruit. Second, God is an impartial judge, at least when it comes to our works. He’s partial to anyone saved by Jesus in terms of salvation, but when he judges our lives here on earth, he’s impartial. He won’t give us all the benefits of all the doubts that we give ourselves.

So, Peter advises, we shouldn’t live like this is home. We should instead consider ourselves foreigners. And we should live here in reverent fear, remembering that God has expectations and that one day, like little children who were told to wait until daddy gets home, we’ll have to explain ourselves face to face.

As a soldier, I think of it this way: we’re on deployment. We’re in foreign lands, here with a mission to do. It’s a nation-building operation, and the nation we’re building is God’s kingdom. But we’re only here as long as it takes to get the mission done.

Now, some deployed soldiers go native, find a local wife, and stay on when their tour is up. But most carry pictures of their boyfriends and girlfriends, wives and husbands, children and parents, and they look at them every day. Most call home whenever they can, video chat if that’s an option on their base, write letters when there’s not another option. They love the care packages that seem like a touch of the motherland. Most never forget where home really is, and live for the day they get to go back.

When I’m tempted to go native, Peter reminds me that one day I’ll be going home, no matter what I want. And on that day I’ll face a Father who will judge my work, not on how good a guy I was, but on how faithful a soldier I became. 

prayer and praise

“Well, there’s nothing left to do but pray.” Ever heard that, or even said it. I have. In fact, it’s almost axiomatic for good Dutch pragmatists like me: first, you do what you can. Then you ask for help. After all, we mention work first in the old saying, “Work like it’s all up to you and pray like it’s all up to God.”

That’s not a Biblical understanding of prayer, though. In James 5:13 it says, “Is anyone among you in trouble? Let them pray. Is anyone happy? Let them sing songs of praise.”

James says two things about prayer that are different than the way I practice it. 

He says pray first. Happy? Before you go celebrate, give your praises to God. Before you tackle your problems or starting building your defenses pray. Pray and then act. But be aware that this is going to become a cycle: pray, act, feel blessed, pray. 

And he says pray always. Pray when you’re joyful, when you’re troubled, when you’re worried. In fact, there isn’t a time if your life, or your day, or your moods, when your first and most effective course of action would be something other than praying.

It adds up to one thing: I need to see prayer as my natural and first response to all of life, not the thing I try when I’ve done everything else.

quarrels

Why do we fight with people?

I used to think it was because other people are wrong, and have to be set straight. James disagrees. He says this, in James 4:1-2: “What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight. You do not have because you do not ask God.”

Using a Root Cause Analysis methodology call the Five Whys, James argument breaks down like this:

Why are there fights and quarrels among us? Because we have covetous desires.

Why do we have covetous desires? Because we don’t have the things we want.

Why don’t we have the things we want? Because we don’t ask God.

In this case, it only took three whys to find the root cause of why we fight: because we don’t rely on God for the things we want and need. 

Root cause analysis is a powerful thing because it enables you to fix actual problems instead of putting Band-Aids on symptoms. Without root cause analysis, I think I fight because other people are wrong. I think I have to fight to protect myself. I have to fight to get my share.

With James’ incisive insight into actual cause, I can see that all these reasons are prompted by flawed thinking. The only effective way to get others to see truth is to turn to God, who is the only one who can change hearts. Likewise, I won’t ever feel safe and secure apart from God. And I’ll never think I have enough until I learn to rely on God and his providence. I fight because I don’t turn to God.

If I think it through, all of the fights I can remember I got into because I though I had to take care of something that God has promised to take care of. He called me to speak truth, but he never required me to convince naysayers. He never told me to ensure my own safety by making sure I can defeat other people. He never said that I had to fend for myself. God promised to be my God, to be my fortress, to provide for me, to set everything right in the end. The only thing I have to do as my part of the deal is put my faith in him and live accordingly.

Why do I fight with people? Because I’m trying to live my own way instead of the way God told me to. But that means I don’t really trust that his way will get me what I want. Could it be that I don’t really trust him? Or is it just that I know he doesn’t approve of the things I want?