Membership

I want to briefly sketch a picture-argument for the public installation service of new Church members. "Why, make it public? Why not just list the names in the bulletin?" you might ask, and that's a very valid question. There is no direct command to do so in the Bible. And there isn't really any pressing need to do so other than, perhaps, what I take to be a minor failure on the part of our culture. But I do think that a public service would make a powerful statement, impressing on our hearts and minds the importance of membership life in the midst of a fallen world.

First, quickly, what is it to be a member? Paul loves to use body parts as examples for God's idea of membership. I'm an arm, you're a leg, that other guy is an eye. All well and good. But the reason Paul does this is to bring out some rather startling implications. First, the head can't say to the foot, "I am better than you." The head is built differently than the foot and for a different purpose. So it's nonsense for a head to make such a value judgement. Second, the head can't tell the foot, "Not only am I better than you, I have no need of you." This betrays a gross misunderstanding of the utter dependance the head has on the foot. The head can make all the plans he wants, but won't get very far without the foot. Paul likes this metaphor because it shows instantly how interconnected we are, and therefore just how important our membership is to both our relationship to God and to one another.

If our membership to one another is this real, and we are really this interconnected, then the local Church can only be effective to the degree that its people both understand and seek to live this out. Paul says in Romans 12:4-6a: For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another. Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them... If I am called to be a member of a Church (and I am) then I am also called to be, as a member, united to the other people in the building. Furthermore, I am called to throw in my gifting to serve the rest of the body. Paul says again in Philippians 2 that we are to put the needs of others before our own. This means that the other folk with whom I worship are more important than myself, their needs more pressing than my own.

Ok, that said, what's all this about public installation? When an individual or family comes and joins a local Church, they are doing three things. First they are submitting themselves to God (James 4:7). They are acting in obedience to Him who desires for us to live in community, and to partake in the nature of His Triune Life (Hebrews 10:25; 2 Peter 1:3-4). Secondly, they are putting themselves under the authority of the elders (Hebrews 13:17). As God's appointed leadership team, they are responsible for the souls of their flock. Our job as members is to make their rule a joy by being submissive and cheerful in the process. The third thing new members are doing by joining a local Church is submitting to one another (Ephesians 5:17-21; Philippians 2:3-4). We are called to cast ourselves fully into the whole, to be used by God in whatever way He deems appropriate, given our talents and personalities. When the individual or family comes forward for membership, they are adding their hearty Amen! to what Paul lays out for us.

So, what would the installation service look like? It would be a simple question-and-answer dialogue between the Pastor and the new members, spoken in front of the congregation. Something like this:

Pastor: Have you, [Newbies], submitted yourselves to the Love of the Father, the Lordship of the Son, and the sanctifying work of the Spirit, trusting in Him alone for your salvation?
[Newbies]: We have
P: Do you willingly and without compulsion place yourself under the authority of the elders of this Church, recognizing that they are the fallible shepherds God Himself would have you submit to, not blindly, but in love and good hope?
[N]: We do
P: Furthermore do you commit yourselves to this congregation, to uphold the work of this Church as a whole, and to participate in its ministry by means of the talents and personalities our Maker has given you?
[N]: We do
P: Congregation of [name of Church], I turn to you and ask, do you willingly embrace [Newbies], and commit to love them by means of your giftings, putting their needs before your own, considering them more important than yourselves? If so, please respond by saying Amen.
Cong: AMEN!

This publicly enacted dialogue is powerful. It is a 'ritual' signifying something real: the weighty glory of membership in the body of Christ. And it speaks the story of Jesus: one Man sacrificing everything for me. It is the story we are supposed to live out toward one another. Furthermore, this drama lifts me outside of myself. It puts me in the context of something bigger, of which I am just a small part. It shows me the cathedral, and points to the individual stone that I am, some way up the south wall. I may be an integral part, but I rest on the shoulders of thousands of other stones, and millions more will come after I am gone.

The minor failure in our culture I mentioned at the beginning is our tendency to place the individual above the whole. We are constantly told to "Be your own person!" It's easy to swing the other direction, however, and find comfort in sameness. As long as we are part of the herd, no one will notice us, or require anything of us. But our God is Triune. He is both Individual and Community. And He desires us to partake in this Triune nature. In fact, by dwelling one with another and echoing this Divine relationship, we show the world what this balance looks like. When the local body publicly welcomes and affirms one another, it strongly Amen's the reality of our membership in Christ, and powerfully reflects the nature and love of the Triune God.

Musings on 2 Peter (1:3-4)

3-4: His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.

These are some of the most amazing words in all of Scripture. Here is found the Gospel, the promise of the Gospel, the hope of the Gospel, and the glory of the Gospel all in one sentence. In seasons of doubt, these words are like warm water on cold hands, warm words to thaw shivering hearts. Indeed, these capsules of truth build us up and remind us that God is God. He is sovereign over all things. But He does not simply sit afar off governing history as a judge, presiding from a distant height, over the cases of men. Rather, He has come down from His chair, and has wrestled with us on our own soil. He has entered into the sphere of our lives and shown Himself not only to be God, but to be our God. He has given us Himself, and is immediately present with us at all times for He gave us both His very own book, and His very own Spirit. This is our God. In Him we live.

By the divine power of God we have been both justified and sanctified: all things that pertain to life and godliness. Both our life and our piety are gifts from the hand of divine power. These are not things we achieve in our own strength. As seen above, the dead man cannot learn to live by reading Grey's Anatomy, even if the book is read to him. And if he cannot learn to live by reading, then he certainly can't learn to live well by reading either. The strength is not in us to do this thing. This is not accomplished by any means we ourselves possess. In our own strength we lie dead. Deader than dead, for we were not simply victims of death, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. We were active servants of death, partaking in its unholy nature. To escape it was neither in our power nor in our desires. But here we see the kindness of our God. We have been pulled up out of the grave. The strongman has been bound and gagged, and sits against the wall waiting for his doom. As he sits he witnesses his own devilish house being plundered, goods not of his making, but only of his marring, being taken away. We were rescued and brought home. We chose death. Our great God chose us for life.

And this life is given to us. Life that can no longer live in filth. And so our piety is given to us as well. One confusion that plagues reformed churches in our day concerns our belief in total depravity. We understand well enough that every aspect of our humanness is touched by the fall, and therefore every aspect of our humanness must be redeemed by the blood of Jesus. The confusion comes when we start believing in continuing depravity. By His stripes we are healed. Our sins are forgiven, the old man has been put to death, and our inability to obey has been taken away. Furthermore an active desire to obey has been given to us. But we Calvinists sometimes like to pick at scabs. We sit in the corner, head buried in our chest, wanting so much to be like the publican and not the priest, we forget that he stood up, and walked home justified. Yes, you have sinned. Yes, you continue to sin. But it is forgiven. It is washed. Your God would have you know peace and joy. There is not one unforgiven sin you will commit. So rest, dear sinner. Allow the scabs to heal. The more you pick, the more you will scar.

We need the divine power to wash over us like a wave, breaking on the shores of our stubborn hearts. He has given to us everything, and everything we need for life and godliness has been given to us. We return to knowledge. Through the knowledge of Him who called us we were given these things. Through the gift of hearing His voice we were given even more. This knowledge we did not stumble upon, as one walking in the forest at night might trip over a fallen tree. Rather, in this word picture, we are the fallen tree, uprooted and dead. Christ came walking through the dark night of our soul and sang words of life into our limbs. What was the theme of His song? Glory and excellence. This is what we are called to. But praise our God and Father that He does not leave us to find this glory alone. We are not blindfolded, spun three times in a circle, and pointed in a line just left of the donkey. We are called to enter into His very own life and piety, His glory and His excellence. This is not a location we can find. It is destination He is bringing us to.

But Peter speaks in the past tense. So this must mean that even though we don't see glory and excellence with our fallen eyes, indeed, all we see is our own sin, it must remain true. And surely this is the beauty of the Gospel. The precious and very great promises that have been made to us are solid and can be taken to the bank. By means of these promises we partake in the divine nature of our God. Even though we remain in fallen flesh, and physically the check has yet to clear, simply possessing the promissory note propels us into the nature of God. This does not mean we become gods ourselves, nor does it mean that the Creator/Creature distinction somehow evaporates. We remain finite, and God infinite. But what it does mean is that we, by grace through faith, learn to have the same posture as God. How does He see this world? How does He view sin and rebellion? What does He love? How does He love? These questions get to the heart of His glory and His excellence. His posture towards all things is an outworking of who He is. As we are brought into His nature, we are made like Him, and so take on this same attitude toward others. As Paul says, we are to work out what He is working in. It becomes clear then that we cannot remain in our filth, nor can we remain in a perpetual state of contemplation over it. There is too much to be done. Yes, manure stinks. But our Farmer God has deemed it right and good to use the manure we are to fertilize His world. We are to be agents of growth and plenty. Once we were manure. Now we begin to bear fruit. But we cannot expect fruit to appear all at once, nor can we expect the oder of manure to immediately disappear. These things take time. And so the span of 70 years is given to man, and by reason of strength, 80. Our life here and now is the adolescent stage of an apple tree. We are growing toward something full and lovely. We are pruned and clipped and cut back. But in this training time we find purpose and meaning. The gold has no ground to resent the fire of the forge, nor the apple the gardener's knife. Rather than resent it, we rejoice in it, for we see with eyes of faith the life it brings us to.

We have escaped, we have been rescued from the decay that is in this world by means of lust. Again, we still sin. But no longer are we held captive, bound in chains, languishing in that house of corruption. The strongman himself was bound, past tense. His house plundered, past tense. We, the goods of the strongman, were rescued, past tense. Now, present tense, we are free. So what does this mean for us here and now? What the knowledge of Him whose glory and excellence we are being brought into gives us is the freedom to look past the sin in our lives and see the goodness and kindness of our God. It gives us the eyes to see our God using us as a farmer uses a scythe. It widens our perspective and gives us both assurance in our future glory, and confidence in our purpose here in this wide field, full of ripe, unharvested wheat.

Musings on 2 Peter (1:2)

2: May grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord.

As one who confesses that Jesus is Lord and believes that God raised Him from the dead, Peter sends you grace and peace. But it is grace and peace that is rooted in something firm and specific. In the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord, may grace and peace be multiplied to you. Peter is asking that God would grant us wisdom. "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight" (Proverbs 9:10). But the true import of these words has been sorely forgotten. These terms have been hijacked and are currently in the hands of the kings from Psalm 2, who desire to cast off their cords and free themselves from the hand of the Anointed One. But they will not succeed. And we must be proactive in reclaiming the words which belong to us.

Knowledge is much praised in our day. It has itself become a savior in our secularist culture. Ignorance has been named the great demon of our age, and therefore knowledge is the only answer. Knowledge is power, we read on many bumpers across our land. Our schools are founded on the principle that kids who know more will make better choices. If they know about STD's they wont want to mess around. If they know about drugs, they wont want to take a hit. If they know the consequence, they will not step out of line. And when kids do, which they do, ignorance is the scapegoat. It makes sense, given a godless, evolutionary mindset. If there is no God, then we are all by ourselves, and must do all we can to better our position. The problem is that real life does not give this theory any credence. The more we know of what we shouldn't do, the more we want to do it. It is human nature. Every mother's son, coming out of the womb, wants what he wants without respect to consequences. True, we have become shrewd with age and have figured out ways to disguise the action, so that the consequence is legal, or turns to our favor. For the short run at least. But this way of thinking leads to death. Ignorance is not the problem. Defiance of a Holy God is. The Ancients had a word for this attitude of the heart: sin, they called it. And if a heart that is predisposed to hate a holy God is the problem, no amount of knowledge will fix it. If a man is dead, no amount of reading Grey's Anatomy to him will bring him to life. "But see, sir? All you have to do is inhale air into your lungs. We call that breathing. Let's try it on three..." Knowledge by itself will not fix a single soul. We need something far more radical than that.

Enter Jesus stage right. In Jesus the dead man not only breathes, but picks up his mat and goes home, glorifying God. In Jesus death has been defeated. In Jesus life has come. But again we are tempted to attribute salvation to a mere knowledge that 'In Jesus life has come.' We say we know about Jesus and therefore will be saved. If knowledge plays any part in our salvation its from the other end. Does Jesus know you? "Many in that day will say, 'Lord, Lord,' but I will say to them, 'Depart from me, for I never knew you.'" Therefore it is not our knowledge but His that counts. Does Jesus know you? As we saw earlier, if you confess with your mouth Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. If you confess and believe, then, dear Christian, Jesus knows you. End of story. Our salvation is not based on how much we know Him. Because He is infinite and we are not, we cannot hope to know Him fully. Therefore rest.

But there is a ditch on both sides of the road, they say. If we come to the realization that knowledge of God does not in itself produce salvation, we are tempted to dismiss knowledge all together. "I believe in Jesus, what more do I need to know?" We grow lazy and complacent. Because we have no desire to read the Word, to grow in the knowledge of God, we miss the parable about the seeds falling among different soils, and the cares of the world quickly come and pluck the seed up and fly away. "Well, how can I rest now?" you might say. The answer to assurance is simple. An apple tree grows apples, not lemons. Do you confess and believe? Very well. Look for apples. If you are an apple tree, you will bear fruit. Your life will be defined by love, joy, peace, and patience. The Holy Spirit is the master gardner, and He will prune and trim and fertilize you so that you bear fruit abundantly, some thirty, some sixty, some a hundredfold. But if you are growing lemons, if your life is defined by anger, malice, lust, and immorality, then chances are you are not a apple tree. Check the box. You probably have the wrong plant.

Peter shows us the path between the two extremes. In the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord, may grace and peace be multiplied. It is not salvation that is multiplied, but rather the tools for living a saved life. A man may be declared a farmer, but if he is not given a shovel or hoe, tractor or combine, then precious small will be his farm. We may be saved, but if the Spirit does not multiply within us grace and peace, then precious small will be our hope. How does the Spirit do this then? Through knowledge. The more we know, the more we rest. Say there is a big math test coming up. If we know the formulas backwards and forwards, then we will not stress about the test. But if we refuse to study, and commit the formulas to memory, then we will freak out and worry. We are a math student either way. The amount of knowledge a student has does not affect that. What knowledge does do is produce peace.

Therefore, may grace and peace be multiplied to you, in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord. Strive to know more of God and of Jesus your Lord. Read the Word. Study it. Immerse yourself in the poetry, in the story, in the letter, in the history. Know the Gospel backwards and forwards. Then when life sends you pop quizzes, you will have peace.

Musings on 2 Peter (1:1)

Chapter One
1: Simeon Peter, a servant and apostle of Jesus Christ, To those who have obtained a faith of equal standing with ours by the righteousness of our God and Savior Jesus Christ...

Peter has written another letter. Here he styles himself not only an apostle, but also a servant, or slave. At first the two words might seem redundant. An apostle is someone that is sent out, and implies obedience to a sender, and therefore further implies a servant. But I think that Peter wants to communicate his own sense of perspective here. Yes I am an apostle, he says. But more than that I am a servant, a slave, in no way more special than you, dear reader. He emphasizes this point in the next sentence: You have obtained a faith of equal value to mine, dear reader, a faith equally precious to the faith of the apostles. Peter is concerned with those who would attribute to him and the other apostles more honor than their standing deserves. We do honor the apostles. In a similar vein we honor our own elders and teachers. But not in such a way that regards them as super-Christians, with a super-faith, unattainable by us Christians of a "lower order". To think this way falls into two errors simultaneously. First, it mistakingly assumes that God gives different qualities of faith to different people. A stronger faith He gives to one, and a weaker, more tenuous faith He gives to another. This is foolishness. There is one common faith, one common Lord, and one common baptism, Paul tells us in Ephesians. This does not mean there aren't stronger and weaker Christians. There are. God meets us all where we are, and some have heavier burdens than others. But the faith itself is the same faith as that of the apostles, and of every saint through the courses of time. Secondly, this assumption of different faiths for different people would seem to indicate that the faith-holder has done something in his own strength to merit a larger portion of faith, as if faith were a prize pie, and some got a bigger piece because they came in first place. This too is foolishness. Faith is binary. Faith is an on/off switch. Either you believe Jesus, or you don't. Either you love God or you don't. Do you love Jesus? Then you have a faith of equal standing with the apostles, honored though they may be.

Faith is a gift. Faith is all of grace. And this is why it cannot depend on us, in any fashion. It is only by the righteousness of Jesus that any of us can receive faith at all. Every last human being on this earth shares this in common: we are dead in the water of our sin. All of us lie on the bottom. There aren't some super humans floating closer to the surface, more fit in their own strength to receive the grace of God. That is just silly. Dead is dead. When God takes us out of our grave, and gives us new life in the life of Christ, then we are made alive. We have been given new eyes, and a new heart. This is faith. The assurance of things hoped for, and the conviction of things unseen. Do you believe the promises of God to be true with regard to you, based solely on the mercy of the Father, the blood of Jesus, and the working power of the Spirit? Then this letter is for you.

Musings on 1 Peter (5:12-14)

12-14: Peter has written a letter. A letter for a suffering Church. A letter of encouragement and hope. His aim has been to reveal the true grace of God, and to build us up in it. We too are pilgrims dispersed in a land that is not our home. We too know trials and hardships. As with the exiled Jews in Babylon, we are called to seek the welfare of our cities, to set roots down, to live, work and play in the homes and places God has given each of us. Our lives should be full and rich, with traditions of joy and long seasons of laughter. Our lives should always be pointing outward, seeking to engage others with the joy of our salvation. Our lives are no longer our own, and in this we find peace. Peace in every trial, peace in every shadowed valley. Peace because the One to whom our lives do belong is the Author of all things. In Him we rest. In Him we are being transformed, as a community, into a glorious citadel. We are the bricks and living stones that make up the walls, and battlements. At times this hurts. Especially as dirt and straw must be scraped off for the stone to fit. But we are in the hands of the Master mason. And we take comfort knowing that whatever it is He is doing, however long it takes, and however much it may hurt, the final product will be beautiful. This is our peace. This is what all our toasts and odes and stories point to. As a compass points north, so our lives point to beauty. Every aspect of our nature is being transformed into loveliness. Therefore stand firm, knowing the One whose hands you are in.
As Peter sends his final greetings, he sends peace. This should be the make up of all our final words as well. Peace. If God sits on His throne, then we can have peace. Justice is not an obscure maybe. There will be justice. Every wrong will be made right, every hurtful word will be reckoned for, every debt will be paid, every tear will be dried. We believe these things to be true. We show a desperately discouraged and despairing world that these things are indeed true, by our peace. This peace is beyond understanding. This peace guards our hearts and our minds. This peace is woven into the very structure of our home. For our home is found in the Prince of Peace. Our home is Jesus.

Musings on 1 Peter (5:10-11)

10-11: So if God is loving, why do we suffer? Why isn't our life a can of peaches? Hopefully the asking of the question puts things into perspective. The first answer is, of course, whoever said that's what life was supposed to be? Where is it written that everyday will be chocolate milk and ice cream? It seems to me that as fallen creatures living in a fallen world with fallen bodies surrounded by fallen sinners, we are bound to have our fur rubbed the wrong way sooner or later. A friend once said, its not a question of if you will suffer, but when and how much. Strife and friction lie at the very heart of what it means to be human. Lets back up. We were created perfect in a perfect Garden, given everything we could possibly need. God walked with us in the cool of the day. And in that very real utopia, we decided that it wasn't enough. We needed to have some say over what we did or did not do. We needed some autonomy. And so we threw away the perfect gift of life that was given us. The result has been pain. Our original duty was to be fruitful. To grow. Men tilling the ground, and women tilling their children. Now, all fruitfulness would be fraught with pain. Thorns and screams. Pain and frustration are the consequences of sin. One can't acknowledge the one, and be indignant at the other. It doesn't follow. And so if we are honest with ourselves, and if we take the fall seriously, we must acknowledge that suffering is a reality that is not to be wondered at.
When we sinned, we took the image of God, and we covered it with tar and pitch, rolled it in the dirt, and dusted it with fine bits of gravel. Then we mashed it all up so that the tar and dirt was evenly spread throughout the whole lump. So now, ever since the fall, God, whose kindness and mercy truly are everlasting, has set His mind on plucking out every bit of dirt. Its as if He made a perfectly clean lump of clay, and that lump decided to jump off the table and roll in the filth. Now, after picking the lump back up, He washes it, and proceeds with sharp tweezers to remove every grain of filth. Does the lump of clay really have anything to complain about? And yet that is exactly what we do. Stop it! we scream. Ouch, too deep! we whine. And still the Maker, in His kind patience continues to remove the dirt.
How kind is our God! How patient are the ways of the Almighty! He who sits enthroned in the Heavens, He gave the world to us His children, and we spat it back in His face. We, tiny specs of nothing, in the same breath defy the will of our Maker and demand our own wellbeing. Who are we? Who do we think we are? And how great is our God to smile at us and pour Himself out on the cross for us. To say to us, "Yes, within its first hours my perfect world has seen great evil. But I will make sure that I bear the brunt of it. I will take the ultimate consequence upon My own back, so that you, My children, may see My glory, and share in it with Me. Rejoice My people, therefore. You have acted foolishly. But come. Be undone by My grace."
Jesus is the answer. Jesus on the cross is the answer to every pain and every sorrow. Jesus on the cross not only bore our sins, but our griefs as well. He took upon Himself the worst of the pain so that everything we experience would be for our growth and not our destruction. This is our hope. Our suffering is the fire stoked to such a heat, that dross cannot help but rise and be scraped. And so we see that our God has turned even our punishment into grace, using the consequence of sin to sponge the sin away. It hurts, just as picking the dirt out of a fresh scrape on the knee hurts. But just as the knee heals, so do we.
Boot camp, I'm sure, is a horrible place, where horrible things happen. But they happen in a controlled space under close supervision with the purpose of training men for war, a horrific place where horrific things happen. The pain of boot camp pays off when the instincts that have been drilled into the brain, show themselves in the heat of battle, and lives are saved. Our 80 years on this groaning rock is our boot camp. Now the new heavens and the new earth are no war. Much the opposite. But we need to be prepared for it all the same. God is teaching us to trust Him, and to do so instinctively. He is tearing away the layers of self reliance and self worship. He is stripping us bare to where we have no false image of ourselves, where we can see ourselves for what we really are: jars of clay, created to carry glory.
So what is Peter's final encouragement to this crowd of suffering sinners, dispersed throughout the known world, far from their homeland? What words does he have for us, who pitched our tents in the midst of idolatrous living, but are called to be separate from it? What hope is there in this fallen world for fallen sinners such as us, redeemed though we may be? Peter's words are firm. And glorious. After we have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called us to His eternal glory in Christ Jesus, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen and establish us. Let those words sink in.
We will suffer for a little while. Its true. The word 'little' throws it into perspective. Compared to eternity, time on this earth is brief. And while we are here this side of the grave, we will suffer. It is the reason Paul called his suffering, 'momentary, light affliction.' Placed in the scales against the weight of glory that is ours in Christ, our own hardships might as well be as light as air for all the resistance they give. At the same time, suffering is not something we blow off, or simply disregard. We weep with those who weep. Our heart aches, with all of creation, to be free of this fallen shell, to be made whole once again. But only seen in the light of eternity does pain not turn into despair.
The God of all grace. Everything is grace. Everything is gift. All of life is God's present to us, wrapped in shiny paper with a bow. Every moment is given to us from the hand of a Father who has His glory and our good in mind at all times. Therefore every moment is a opportunity for us to say thank you. Every moment sees us either honor God as God, or lifting self up. Murphey's Law is God's humorous training ground for our gratitude. Do we acknowledge in our hearts that God is the one who tangled all those cords, forcing you to choose between being offended that this inanimate object does not recognize the importance of the one trying to untangle it, or laughing at the silliness of this world. The choice is ours. What does it mean to give thanks for all things?
Who has called us to glory in Jesus. We were created for glory. We fell. He sent His Son to bear the brunt of the punishment, so that in Him we might receive the glory after all. This is what we were purposed for, and what we now are repurposed for. It is our end. Paul calls us jars of clay. As clumsy, anything-but-special vessels, we hold the treasure of the gospel. Red wine in paper cups. And yet, the power of the wine is to transform our paper cup into bejeweled chalices, fit for the King.
Will Himself. He does not wait for us to do it. He knows we never could. Not only did He create us in the first place (completely unnecessary), but He proceeds to pay the ransom, after we go and screw things up. It is all a work of God. First to last. Even now as we work out our salvation, we only work out what He Himself is working in. We are the branch bearing the fruit of the Spirit. Not fruit we mustered up in our own strength. He is the Lord. He will surely do it.
Restore. He Himself will restore us. He restores us to the garden. But a garden in which He has sweat blood on our behalf. He does not bring us back to simple innocence. That was never the plan. The garden has become an urban garden, a great green city. We fell at a tree in a garden. Jesus redeemed us at a tree in a garden. He brought us back to Himself, with an eye to graduate us to maturity in Him.
Confirm. He will confirm that what we experience is not without purpose. Nor are we alone in our pain. We have both brothers and sisters, and a God who share in the weight of our woe. Our suffering is not without an end. It is the road we take to reach the garden. He will confirm that the source of our pain is the font of mercy and not simply the cruel hand of fate, or the evil designs of the devil. Our suffering is valid and real. This was confirmed on the cross.
Strengthen. Do not fear, Isaiah tells us. Do not be dismayed. For the Lord is our God. He will strengthen us, He will help us, He will uphold us by His righteous right hand. With God on our side, who can stand against us? This is the source of every encouragement. The gospel is true. The God of all things is our God. Therefore do not fear. Let your heart be strengthened. Let your soul find courage.
Establish. He will set our feet on solid ground. This world will be shaken. And the kingdoms of this world will crumble and fall. But our feet will be secure. For He Himself will establish us in truth. He has set His Anointed on His holy hill. Jesus is established forever as the sovereign ruler of all nations. In Him we are established forever as the heirs to this kingdom. We are like the oak planted by streams of living water. Our roots go deep. Our leaves will not whither. The wind may rise, but we will stand firm. Indeed, the birds of the nations will rest in our branches.
Us. He does this for us. The weak and sinful creatures that rebelled against Him. Us. We are the ones He wishes to make new. We are the ones He has chosen to bless as His people. Not from anything we have done. Not because were in any way special. Simply from the goodness of His heart, it was the pleasure of His will, to do all things for us. At this point Peter cannot help but break into doxology. The faithfulness and the mercy of Lord is from everlasting to everlasting. To Him be dominion and all glory forever and ever. May Jesus forever have the dominion and the glory. May we always be ready to give both in all areas of our lives.
This Gospel is ridiculous. The weak confound the strong. The way up is down. The humble are exalted. Life after death. By all human standards, this does not work. But then again, human standards are broken and have never worked themselves. But the Gospel is what makes life worth living. It is also what makes death worth dying. Daily picking up our cross, we share in the suffering of Jesus that remains for us. We find in this suffering our deepest joy for it unites us to Him. The more acute the hardship, the closer He draws near. The steeper the pain, the sweeter the grace.

Musings on 1 Peter (5:8-9)

8-9: Once again, we are to be sober minded. That is, we must think about things. We must consider what is going on around us. But we must do so in light of what we know to be true about the future. The fact that we know the end of the story is the very basis for our sobriety. Sobriety here does not mean subdued sullenness. Rather Peter is calling us to simply be alert, don't live like you are drunk with wine. Be a people who see and understand what is happening around you. The man who is drunk has no clue about his surroundings. And we can be drunk with more than just wine. Drunk with money, sex, worldly pleasures, accumulation of stuff, power over others. Even the officers of the church are not immune. They can be drunk with the right liturgy, the right confessional standard, the right translation. All good things to think through, but when they fill the horizon of one's thought to the exclusion of what it all points to, then they become the means to drunkenness. The key word is perspective. Liturgy is great. It is inescapable, really. But if we become so consumed with the liturgy that we forget that we are supposed to be worshipping God, then we have fallen into this trap. We become like the Pharisees who sought salvation in the Scriptures themselves, instead of seeing Who the Scriptures pointed to. They were too drunk with their own codes and laws to see when Salvation came and poked them in the eye.

Therefore live life now, propped up and supported by what happened 2000 years ago on a Roman cross on the hills outside a Jewish city in the middle east. God put the climax of history smack in the middle of the book. We live in the denouement. We live in the time of resolution. The Son of Man has been lifted up, and He is in the process of drawing all men to Himself. This is the bedrock of our sobriety. And it is why our sobriety cannot be sour. It must laugh. It must belly laugh. For the power of the world is crumbling. We see it happen every time the Spirit brings a soul to repentance. The kings of the earth have set themselves against the Lord and against His anointed. But what does the Almighty one do? Does He freak out, thinking, "What's going to happen now?" No. He holds them in derision. He sets His face against theirs and laughs. The kings are not strong enough for this. Anger they could have dealt with. Fearfulness would have been ideal. But laughter? Being made ridiculous? This they cannot abide. We become like what we worship. The God we worship is a God who laughs. Therefore we must be a laughing people. But this takes great sobriety. It takes watchfulness. And it takes true discernment. We still must mourn with those who mourn, and weep with those who weep. But we do not weep as those who have no hope. Our weeping finds joy at the bottom of the tears. However, when the devil tries to sit on the throne we get to be the giggling boy in the crowd who points and cries out, "But he's naked!" It is our duty to get the townsfolk laughing at the ridiculous prince who was trying to take us all in with his show of power. He is not the king. Why do we tremble at him? For Lo, his doom is sure. One Word has fallen upon Him, and is crushing his head.

But those who do not watch are prone to fear the roaring of lions. Those who forget the chain around the lion's neck are susceptible to fear and doubt. Peter's words to them are clear. Resist him. Remain firm in your faith. Remember his end. Remember that though kings set themselves up, the Lord has set His King on His holy hill, where He reigns with a rod of strength. The prowling lion is just a big defeated cat.

We must be careful, though, for this defeated cat still has the ability to shake our faith. If we are not sober minded, if we are not watchful, the purring lies of this great puss can catch us off guard. One of his favorite lies to whisper in the middle of the night is this: If God is so good and loving, why are you suffering? The correct response is to laugh in his face because we play that game of chess, and know that we will say, "Checkmate," in only just a few moves. But if we do not know where the pieces are on the board, then we will be easily deceived and begin to fear. Peter's encouragement in light of this particular tactic is to remind the saint that everyone suffers. You have not be singled out of the crowd to endure pain and hardship while everyone else watches and sniggers. Not only are you not alone in your suffering, the very kind of pain you experience is not unique. The same kinds of suffering you are subjected to are experienced by your brothers and sisters around the globe. Suffering is simply a reality in this fallen world. So when the devil tempts you to disbelieve the goodness of God on the grounds that you are suffering, give him the raspberry. Remind him of the cross. Remind him that the worst of all sufferings was endured, not by us, but by the very God whose goodness we rest in. Remind him that that very act of pain made our own pain endurable and infused it with meaning. A servant is not greater than his master. So if our God has suffered and felt pain, how can we expect less? Has God ever promised that we will not pass through fire and water? No. But He has promised that the fire will not burn, and the water will not overcome. So tell that stupid devil that it is in the very midst of suffering that we see the goodness of our God most clearly. It is as if suffering is the window cleaner that removes the smudges and grime, giving us a clearer glimpse of the Lord's Anointed.

We live in the warming rays of a late winter sun. It is still very brisk, yes. But snow is melting on the ground. Bare branches are preparing for new buds. Birds are huddled in their nests, doing vocal exercises. And waiting. All of the thawing creation is waiting. The silent air is thick with anticipation. Spring is coming.

Pentecost 2012

It is a somewhat surprising reality that Pentecost is so little celebrated in Protestant Churches. It is, after all, our collective birthday. We celebrate the coming of the Long Expected Jesus. We sing songs and lift glasses in remembrance of His birth. We celebrate with high feasts His resurrection. It is curious we do not celebrate with the same enthusiasm the day He sent His Spirit to live with us and in us for the rest of human history. It is true, that the glory of the Spirit is to point away from Himself, and lift the name of Jesus on high. But should we not remember with shouts of joy the day He opened the very ears of our soul, the day we heard the Gospel in our own tongue?

What must it have been like, that early morning in the upper room? Huddled together, praying, hoping, expecting. The eleven had been told to wait for the power to come. They did not say how or when, for they did not know themselves. But perhaps they had an inkling. Perhaps Pentecost, they thought, perhaps on the Feast of the Weeks. It would make sense. The festival commemorated God giving the law to the people on Mount Sinai, 50 days after the Exodus from Egypt. And of course, they might have thought, the Quickening happened right after they celebrated Passover. That was the real Exodus. The real release from bondage. And now, 50 days later, God might speak again from the Mount. That would be too much. We would be consumed in flame. But what if He did? And with the nations gathering at our very doorstep. What was that? Did you hear that rustling?

Once again, as He had done so many centuries before, the Father Spoke. But this time, there was more than one Moses. More than one Moses for more than one nation. A new race was being formed. A new kingdom was being forged. A new people, at the foot of the mountain, being made ready to journey to a new promised land. But first they must cross the wilderness. First they must learn to trust, as their fathers before them had failed to do. But this time was different. This time God Himself breathed on them. Slowly, bone joined to bone, and sinew to sinew. As flesh crept over muscle, dry bones become human once again. As they stood in the courtyard, He breathed the Breath of the Spirit upon them. A resurrected army, a mighty and holy host. And about 3000 were joined to their number that very day. This is what we celebrate on Pentecost. We celebrate the city where construction has only just begun.

Musings on 1 Peter (5:6-7)

6-7: The call is to humility. The whole Christian life is a call to humility. It really is the only valid response we as creatures have before us. We have been given absolutely everything, even down to the hairs on our head to keep us warm. And yet, in our fallen pride, we have grown to feel entitled to all our stuff. We have come to think, simply from the simple presence of everything that somehow we have a right to it. And so when disappointment ensues when we are deprived, we throw a fit. Where are my rights, we cry. Why is this happening to me, we rant. I don't deserve this, we declare. How can we be so blind? Where is it written that all this actually, in the final analysis belongs to me? Where do I get off saying that I have earned any of it? Did I give myself breath? Did I cause my limbs to grow and strengthen? Can I truly take credit for any possession? Even the things I buy. Where did I get the money? Where did I get my job? Who enabled me to work and earn a wage? We are again presented with the either/or. Either God is sovereign over every last thing, like my getting my job, or He is sovereign over nothing. We cannot acknowledge Him on Sundays, and accept His sovereign rule over abstract, spiritual things, like salvation from a rather remote and unseen lake of fire, only to take back the reigns on Monday, assuming that we have the right to our time in the drivers seat. How often do we give thanks for grace and mercy, but then take credit for all that we have accomplished, such as the petty successes we have? Do we not accept all things from the hand of the Lord, Job asks?

No. In every area of our life we fall into pride. We take credit for absolutely everything. And just the opposite is true. All things are gift. Every minute is a gift. Every bite of food, every job that is obtained, every song downloaded from iTunes, everything is gift. How often do we thank God for the air we breath? How often do we thank Him for the involuntary muscles that keep our lungs pulsing, drawing the air into our bodies? How often do we thank Him for the blood cells that carry oxygen from our lungs to the rest of our body allowing us to function and do things without thinking about breathing? We are creatures. We have been created. Just because we are the product of our parents does not mean God did not create us. As creatures we owe everything to our Creator. When you sculpt something out of clay, do you expect that clay do anything, or be anything apart from what you designed it for? God is God. We are not. Be humble therefore. Know your place. Realize that in the grand scheme of time and the universe, your 80 years are as substantial as mist in the wind.

But the incredible thing about the Gospel is that though we be nothing, we have been exalted in Christ. We loathsome sinners, breakers of the law, literal pieces of dirt, have been created and fashioned for glory. Real substantial glory too. Peter knows what is coming. Perhaps because he was given a glimpse of the Transfigured Son of Man. He knows, at least dimly, the glory that is waiting. So be patient he tells us. Wait on the Lord. He who is humble the Lord exalts. The one who understands his place in this world, that is the one whom the Lord can use. In His perfect time He will lift you up.

There are two types of pride that we easily fall into. The first is the obvious one, the arrogant self-worshipper. Their pride will be their fall. But the other side is not as obvious. The other form pride takes looks like humility, from a distance at least. These folks know their place in this world, they know they are dirt, they know they are miserable creatures. In fact they know it so well they cant stop talking about it. Everything is "woe is me". And everyone is sure to hear about it. It is still pride though. It still looks to self as the center of the universe, even though its rotten to the core. Humility is so much easier. Humility simply accepts the gifts God has given, and accepts the ones He hasn't. Humility looks outward, while pride looks in. Humility sees the loving hand of the Father. Pride sees the empty hand of self.

But again, God exalts those who humble themselves before Him. And this is the remarkable thing. This is the point at which the Gospel goes crazy. He does so because He cares for us. Us. The very piece of dirt that took the gifts He gave and used them to spit in His face. Us. The very ones who received every gift of life and prosperity and used it to try and convince ourselves that we really do sit on the throne of our lives. This wild God, exalting His own because He cares. He loves. He holds us as dear children. Therefore in your humility, acknowledge Him. He is the Author of your story. Trust Him. He is writing those hard parts that make you groan. Love Him. He is stoking the fire beneath you. Honor Him as God. He is scraping the dross off the top. Give Him thanks. This life is not easy. But it is our loving Father that makes it so. It is hard now, so that after death, when the real story starts, Life will be abundant. Therefore cast all your anxieties on Him. Be at peace knowing that He is in control of your life. All He wants from you is your trust. He'll take care of your sin, your finances, your relationships, your family. Just trust that He is God, and thank Him for it. Live all your days in that attitude, and He will lift you up in His proper time. Maybe that time will be next year, or in twenty years or maybe in glory. But His Word is true. He is faithful. He will surely do it.

Musings on 1 Peter (5:1-5)

Chapter 5
1-5: As Peter comes to he end of his letter, he turns his attention to his fellow elders, his fellow shepherds. He reminds us, in these verses, that the office of elder is a high office. To be an elder is a high calling, not one to be thought of lightly. It is not an office for the educated, or for the experienced based solely on their acquired education or experience. It is not an extracurricular activity, something to do in your spare time. It is not even a part time deal, something done on the side. To be an elder means to live before all men. To be an overseer means that every aspect of your life is lived in full view of a watching congregation. To be a shepherd one must live with the sheep. To be a pastor, one must live with the people. This is the thrust behind Peter's encouragement to live as a pattern, or as an example, for all to be encouraged by. The word for pattern is our word 'type' that we saw in Chapter 3. The literal sense of the word is this: All that Peter has been talking about, suffering with hope and serving without deference to self, is the mold that shapes that which is cast. And that which is cast is shaped as a picture or as a reflection of what living as God's people should be. It is a type. This is what Peter tells his fellow elders they need to be. Types that show in real time what it means to trust God. Models that reflect in every day life the joy and contentment that trusting in God produces. Pastors that practice what they preach, in other words. This is what it means to be a type, or a pattern, or an example. To model on behalf of the congregation the hope that you are trying to instill in them through the proclamation of the Word.

Now obviously some qualifications need to be made. We still live on this side of glory, where fallen natures battle redeemed hearts and minds. So no pastor can achieve this perfectly, because no human being can achieve it in this life. It is not meant for us achieve perfection this side of the grave. The goal of this life is to find rest in Jesus in spite of the sin that remains, and to share the good news that peace is possible with all the world. So a congregation cannot and must not expect a perfect type when seeking elders. What they should be concerned with is finding a man who desires every area of his life to be transformed and laid bare before the cross of Christ. As mentioned above, the office of elder is not a side gig, something to do on the weekends or the first Monday of every month. It bears a resemblance to the way healthy eating is achieved. One cannot simply eat whatever they want without moderation, and then diet to regain a lost level of health, only to repeat the cycle all over again. That swing from excess to starvation back to excess leads to physical breakdown. The better path lies with a lifestyle change, where everyday is approached with moderation and self control. In this way a healthy balance is achieved. Same with our spiritual lives. You cannot live not trusting God for 6 days out of 7, hoping that the 1 day of spiritual diet is enough to keep you healthy. Everyday must be lived honoring God as God, and thanking Him for it. Every moment of everyday provides an opportunity to exemplify this for others. This is the high calling of eldership.

We, by nature, are imitating creatures. We learn by imitation, even from day 1. The good Lord has seen fit to provide us with not only His Word which is rich with examples, and His world, which functions in a particular way, also exemplifying God's nature, but also with Fathers and Mothers, both biological and spiritual. From our biological parents we learn to walk, talk, to believe, to enjoy, to laugh, and to cry. From our spiritual parents we learn how faith works through the entire loaf of our life, transforming how we approach every situation. As fallen creatures we are born with a natural set of instincts. These include, but are not limited to, self-preservation, self-enrichment, self-satisfaction, and self-importance. One readily sees the unifying theme, and it's not simply hyphenation. We are born with a predisposition to love our own self more than anything else in this world, to place on the throne of our heart and mind, our own self. This is the root of sin, and it is the orientation that Christ challenged on the cross. And so we are born having to learn how to take our eyes off our own needs and see the needs of others as more important. This can only be achieved, by grace, through imitation of others. And those we have been given to imitate are our parents, both biological and spiritual. Here lies our office of elder. A spiritual father, who, among other things, is given to the Church to live before them as a guide, as someone who has traveled the hard path and has returned to lead others along the cliff's edge.

Peter also encourages his fellow elders to be cheerful in this task, to do this willingly with alacrity. It is not an office fit for the one who grudgingly serves. It is not for the man who feels forced to participate, or guilt-tripped into it. This is why the office of elder involves the whole man, the whole time. There isn't a compartment that an elder is allowed to partition off for private thoughts and attitudes. You play as you practice. How you act in private is how you eventually will act in public as the years of false pretense droop with age.

In light of the context, Peter's fellow elders were overseers of suffering congregations. These were hard times for the Church. Prolonged periods of persecution, long seasons of suffering. The Christians dispersed throughout the empire lived hard lives, with little comforts. The people looked up to their elders for guidance and leadership. These men would need to have been hearty and tested, tried and found firm in the faith. These were men not in it for the money, or any such "shameful gain." These were fathers and brothers who knew the story behind Peter's choice of the word 'shepherd.' For to be an elder was to act like Jesus, the Great Shepherd. They were to show Jesus to their flock, willingly and with great eagerness. And what qualities did the Great Shepherd show? Compassion, strength, fierce protection, and, among others, love beginning and ending in sacrifice. This was their calling. This was to be their job description. Compassion steeped in empathy. Strength that withstood the accusations of the roaring lion. A protector who watched the walls surrounding his flock and guarded them fiercely from false teachers. Love that saw the needs of others as more important than his own. And when the Chief Shepherd comes again, an unfading crown of glory will be given to those who would have done it even without the reward.

To be fair, these are pretty high words, and a steep standard. Obviously there must be wisdom involved. We are but frail, finite creatures, even our pastors and elders. Wisdom must dictate the when, where, and how much of ministry. It would be easy for an elder to give himself faithfully to the standards here listed, and no longer be of use to anyone within a twelvemonth. Therefore one must exercise great caution, but caution without fear.

It is a common story in the early centuries of Christianity for men, who would later become Church Fathers, to be dragged, kicking and screaming, and forced into their leadership roles. However, once ordained, they performed their duties with enthusiasm and great care, giving their all to their post. They truly understood the weight of the position and what it meant. It was not something they sought after, for they knew the implications. They knew they would become the solitary beacon on the cliff. They knew all eyes would be looking to them, that their lives would be an open book from that point on. Lonely is the road that leads through the multitude.

Therefore the onus is on us congregants, on us sheep, to make their job easy, to make their burdens light. Peter admonishes us to show honor to our elders, to show deference and respect. We need to understand the high calling that has been laid on them, to understand the weight of their position before God as teachers and preachers of the Gospel. To feel the gravity of the standard to which they are held. This should be the posture of our honor. In other words, as Peter continues, be humble, all of you. Lets not have any glory seekers, or anyone elbowing for the best seats, even if its the one behind the pulpit. Rather, be adorned with all humility, again putting the needs of others before your own. This means us congregants putting the needs of our elders before our own. And not simply expecting and waiting for the elders to put our needs ahead of their own. Again though, we are an imitating people. Monkey see, monkey do. Same with sheep. Therefore, everyone act like a Christian. But, of course, for this we need Jesus. We need grace upon grace upon grace. With a little extra grace on the side.

Musings on 1 Peter (4:17-19)

17-19: Learn and love these words of comfort and encouragement because the time has come for judgment, and it will begin with the house of God. Peter is, in effect, summing up the reason for this letter to the dispersed. More than a simple 'hold fast,' he confirms that all suffering has purpose. Our God is the great Author of all life. This means our lives are a story. They have a beginning, a middle, and an end. There is rising action, falling action, climax and denouement. As with any story worth reading, there is tension throughout, and a wedding at the end. And as any good story shows, the tension is the very element that makes the wedding so satisfying. As characters in God's story, we must learn to read the events around us as elements of His story. Where there is tension, we find allusion to The Fall. And where there is resolve, we find foreshadowing of the Great Restoration. In the middle we find our lives, bobbing on the stream between the banks of tension and resolve, from Fall to Restoration. We sin, we stumble, we suffer. God forgives, God restores, God exalts. More than that, our Father the Author writes in the dark parts, writes in the tension with purpose and intent. As fallen creatures we are like gold that is filled with imperfections. The tension in our story, the pain and suffering, the trials and hardships, these are the fires of the refiners forge. Without them the story goes nowhere, and the gold remains drossy. Through the trials we travel, sometimes page after page, sometimes chapter after chapter. But if we have read the story rightly, we know that no pain is without purpose, there is no tension without resolve.

What is this purpose you speak of? What good can possibly come from this? Here we must be sensitive because living in this fallen world truly is difficult. Dealing with fallen people day after day gets tiresome. Constantly falling into our own petty sins is infuriating. On top of that our fallen natures are continually crying out in despair at the seeming purposelessness of it all. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope. The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. His mercies never come to an end. In fact they are new every single morning. Great is the faithfulness of our God. Great is the faithfulness of our God. First, this must be where our thoughts dwell. Let your mind dwell on truth. These things are true: God is sovereign over all things. All things means all things. God is a Father who desperately loves His creation. We are His creation. God has decreed from before time began, every event of our lives. This means even the tension-filled hard parts. God has a purpose in telling His story the way He does. His purpose is twofold: All things are for His glory, and for our good. Glory we get, mostly, but for our good? How is this trial for my good? If this is our response the first question we should ask ourselves is, by what standard are we declaring something good? Is our own personal comfort the standard? Or is God's glory the standard. If the first is true, then I dare say we will never achieve 'good' as long as we live. Living in a fallen world has its downsides. Our own personal comfort will forever be plagued with sickness, external pressures, and eventually death. But if God's glory is our standard, then everything is found to be for our good. Our God knows our needs better than we do. He knows our true needs because He knows our true end. What you need depends a great deal on where you are going. God has glory in mind for us. He alone knows what it takes to bear the weight of that eternal glory. Therefore He is in the process of training us. The tension we experience in our life is just that, training. We are being taught how to trust our God. Do we see every minute of every day as a gift from the hand of a Father who loves us? Including the hard minutes? Do we honor God as God, and give Him thanks in and for every one of those long and hard minutes? Do we recognize that we have no right to the reins, our lives not being our own? I would venture to guess not always. Thus the need for training. God wants to prepare us. And so, not to make light of our sufferings, this whole world is, in a way, training wheels. When we die, the training wheels come off. When we die, we get to see what bikes were for.

Someone might shout from the back row, "It's all very good for you to say these things, but you don't know how hard this trial is," or "You don't know how long I've been suffering." And they would be absolutely right. I don't know. I only really know the trials and hardships the great Author has written into my story. I can relate only as far as our pains are similar. But here is the crux of our comfort. Jesus does. Jesus knows every bit of your pain. He knows every hour of your suffering. He has numbered everyone of your tears. More than that He has born the brunt of it for you. On the cross Jesus not only took upon Himself our sin and the wrath we deserved. He bore our griefs and our sorrows as well. When you weep, He weeps. When you are wronged, He is wronged. When you hurt, He holds you with nail-pierced hands. So look to Jesus when you suffer. Look to Jesus when you hurt. You'll find in Him One who knows your pain.

This is the thrust of Peter's entire letter. In these verses he is saying that purification begins with God's own people. The refiners fire burns hottest where the gold is most precious. We feel the heat, but we do not despair, for we look forward to a better country, our own country. But if we have the hope of glory, and still suffer the way we do, then what must it be like for those who do not obey the gospel? To suffer in this world without hope, without peace, this must be terrifying. Twice Peter asks this question, what will be the outcome of the ungodly and the sinner? From the eternal perspective, eternal destruction awaits the wicked. But from our own earthly perspective, the hope of the gospel is for all peoples, all tribes, all nations. I believe Peter is giving even more purpose to our pain here by showing us the ripe harvest, not yet gathered in. We suffer, and are made ready for glory it is true. But we also suffer and are suddenly and uniquely equipped to minister to others who are suffering in the same way we are. We suffer, but with hope. Others suffer in similar ways without the hope of Jesus. I believe Peter's purpose here is to say, "Yes you are suffering. Yes it hurts. It is true. But you trust in the God of your suffering. You have been given the peace that trumps the pain. Therefore get off your duff, and help your fellow creature. Share with them the hope you have been given. Share with them Jesus." Again, I don't wish to make light of the sufferings of this life. I know too well the pain that strikes deep, the crying out, "Why?", the doubts that bring into question the goodness of God. But the answer really is the Gospel. The answer always is the Gospel. So look away from self. Look to the needs of others. Just as Jesus did on the cross. See your suffering as a new shiny tool the good Lord has put in your toolbox. You have the tools. Go therefore, make disciples of all the nations. Go and build God's house.

Peter concludes His thoughts on this theme with the simple encouragement to trust. If all else fails, trust that God knows what He is doing. Trust that He knows the end from the beginning. Trust that He knows every hair on your head, and the lifespan of each of them. He also knows when each one will turn grey, whether prematurely or not. Trust that He is a good story teller. Trust that your story is worth living, no matter how hard it is, because it reveals the goodness and beauty of our God. Trust that simple obedience cannot help but bear fruit. Trust that a life lived in the presence of God is its own reward.

Musings on 1 Peter (4:12-16)

12-16: It makes sense, coming on the heels of Peter's exhortation to living outward focused lives, for him to switch gears, and encourage us to not be shocked when we are persecuted. The world's fundamental disposition toward grace is revulsion. They can't imagine a life not focused on one's own needs. It is suicidal to consider the needs of others as more important than your own. Why, they say, that might lead to personal discomfort, or letting go of the niceties we have come to feel entitled to. Niceties such as designer clothes, or more expensive cars, or even cable TV. After all, we've worked hard. We deserve some comforts in this life. Caring for others is alright in its way, but what do we get out of it? Is it tax deductible? Against this grain of thought grace cuts deep. So deep it hurts. The world sees it and rebels against it. Doing something not necessarily beneficial to self, for the sake of Someone you can't even see, is complete nonsense to the natural man. And so, when this becomes our life code, those around us will balk, then laugh, and finally shun. Therefore don't be surprised when it happens, Peter tells us. Don't look for a different outcome. You knew this was coming, in other words. Its part of what we signed up for. The Christian life of grace is so antithetical to everything the world stands for that friction is a necessary byproduct.

Furthermore, this friction is not only necessary but healthy. If nothing in our lives ever causes an unbeliever to feel awkward or resentful or just plain mad, barring our own sin of course, then it would do well for us to check our own position. If we are Christians, then we have been pulled out of death, and placed into life. As living, breathing examples of Holy Spirit filled life walking in the shadows of death, we should stand out like sore thumbs. If not, if you blend in with the shadowy surroundings, it's possible that you have not cast yourself on the mercy of Christ. If that is true, do so now. I'll gladly wait.

This is what Peter is speaking of when he talks about our faith being 'put to the proof.' When the cup is shaken, what spills out? When the sponge is squeezed, what liquid escapes? Is the sponge of your life soaked in the lifeblood of Jesus? Does grace gush out when you are squeezed? This is our faith being put to the test. Not so that we will despair at our sin. Rather, we are shown our sin so that the Father can scrape it off the top. We are being purified in this life. The dross of our sin is rising to the surface as we undergo the painful heat of tribulation, and the cold fire of suffering. It is precisely for this reason that Paul counts all the pains and hardships of this life as 'momentary light afflictions.' After darkness, light. After winter, spring.

More than this, suffering for righteousness sake is our glory. For if we suffer for our faith, and in our faith, we suffer with Jesus. We are united to Him in the Garden. His blood sweat becomes our own. He identifies with us, and allows us to participate with Him in suffering in this world. For if we suffer with Him in this world, we will be glorified with Him in the next. Therefore rejoice! Dance, Sing! Sing a song of joy! Our graves will lie abandoned. Our tombs, like His, will be empty.

So laugh when you are insulted. When someone throws the name 'Christian' in your face with the intent to make you ashamed, or to make you feel stupid, laugh. Not for spite, but simply for joy, for it means the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you. Therefore glorify God with your laughter. Honor Jesus with your joy. To be named a Christian by the onlooking world is a great honor, and should be seen as a sign of heading in the right direction. It is the same lifestyle that will cause the ones God is drawing to Himself to ask you about the hope within you. If you by your faithful and loving life of grace are not drawing scorn from the hateful and spiteful world, you will not be drawing searching questions from those God is bringing to Himself. It must remembered of course, we are to live quiet and peaceable lives, seeking peace with all men as far as it depends on us. But if we live in obedience to God first, and man second, some men will necessarily be disobeyed, and that will not sit well with them. And so we find the great chasm that separates the City of God and City of Man. In this way we show our allegiance. In this way we honor our King.

Musings on 1 Peter (4:10-11)

10-11: Having been exhorted to be "lovers of strangers" in verse 9, leading us all to be givers, Peter brings the command into clearer focus. We all have been shown grace. All of life is grace. The air we breath, the water we drink, the loveliness of a sunset, the beauty of a pastoral scene. Not only the essentials of life that we take for granted are grace, but also the very aesthetic quality of those essentials as well. Our God does not dole out grace. He dumps it out. Deluge and not sprinkle is the proper term. Every minute, I am fond of saying, is a moment in which we as living creations experience grace. We are completely surrounded. The expedient thing to do is to surrender. To throw up the white flag of truce. To realize that the castle of our own self-will has been besieged by the manifold Grace of God, is to find life. But more than this, each of us have been shown particular graces as well. Some are given to speaking, and are given tongues that proclaim with bold words the grace that supports it. Some are given to serving, and are given hands that hold cups of clear and cool grace, refreshing the thirsty soul. Some are given to praying, and are given knees that know the grace of the worn floor beside the bed. Each of us has not only been given life, but a means to share it. Not only are we given water, we are given a cup as well. Grace comes in many shapes and sizes, for our Father has a different purpose for each of us.

The Author of all things speaks to us in story. He speaks to us both in the Revealed Story of Scripture, and in the story we call our life. As mentioned above, our lives are not our own. They are not ours to do with as we like. It is not as though the Father rents time from us every now and then, paying us for time spent in His presence. Rather, our lives, bought with a purpose, belong to Him, to do with as He likes. This means every part of our life has meaning behind it. There is nothing accidental about our existence. This in itself is most comforting, but it leads to something far more amazing. It means we as characters in His book, actually participate with Him in the ministry of His Grace to the world. As a Father He wants a thirsty child to have water to refresh his spirit. Therefore He has gifted another child to hold out clear cups of grace at the right time and in the right place. In this way He has made us interdependent. We are all connected and given to one another. My cup, holding the grace that I have been given, is perfectly suited to offer refreshment to your need. And the cup you have been given is shaped in just the right way so as to quench the thirst that has been welling up in me. In other words, the Author of all things uses indirect methods of blessing His people. Even this is grace in that it builds up a bond between believers, and bond no army can undo.

So what are we to do? Know the story being written around you. Who are you? What graces have you been shown? What vessel has been given to you so that you may meet very particular needs? This requires us to actually see others as more important that ourselves. With us at the center all we look for is what others can do for us. All we notice is the shortfall in their cups ability to meet our needs. But that's the magic of grace. When pursued for self-serving reasons, grace, when obtained, always turns to ash, and will not quench. But when one keeps others in front at all times, the grace shown him, no matter what size cup it comes in, nor what shape, will quench his need beyond all the wells in the world. Therefore let us pursue others, showering them with the grace we have been given. This way of life honors our Maker more than anything.

How? How does this way of living honor our Maker? For one thing it means a life of obedience, and obedience is sweeter than sacrifice. More than that though, and closer to Peter's point, a life which showcases grace is a life that makes manifest the incarnation of Jesus. We are the Body of Christ. He has made us His incarnate presence on this Earth, through the power of His Spirit. Now of course, Jesus still has a physical body, which we have argued thoroughly above. But, in a very real sense, we are His body. Every time we put grace on display we are telling the truth about who God is to the world. Every time we live for self, we lie concerning the name we have been given. Every clenched and grasping fist is Peter before the cock crowed, denying his association with His Lord. Every upturned hand, open to the story being told, is Peter saying, "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God." In other words, our actions are our theology. What we say with our hands is truer than anything we say with our lips, concerning our real heart attitude. And there is no neutral zone. Either we brush our teeth to the glory of God or we don't. Either we wash the dishes to the praise of His name, or we don't. Granted, actions fall on a graded scale in terms of importance, but nothing happens without meaning or story behind it. Everything we do is accompanied by attitudes and motivations. Despite our best intentions they are often thinly veiled, and so speak volumes to those who watch. Either they speak truth, or they lie. Either they align with what we say we believe, or they prove us to be hypocrites. And someone is always watching. Even if it is only the Lord of all things. Therefore let your actions be true.

We serve "as one who serves by the strength that God supplies." In other words, when we do anything we are to do it as a representative of the One who enables us to do anything at all. In this way, Jesus is made manifest, and through Him the Father is glorified. Peter supplies that common and annoying clause, 'so that in everything.' This does not mean only in big ticket items like our jobs, or our marriages, or our finances. It means in everything, down to the way we tie our shoes. In everything, if our lives reflect the grace that we have been shown, then Jesus is preached, and the Father is glorified. Peter explains why this is necessary. All things are already under His dominion anyway. All glory belongs to Him already. Therefore wake up. Don't be the child who covers his eyes and says, "I can't see you so you must not be there." Look around. See with your eyes that Jesus is Lord. Show with your hands that you see.

Musings on 1 Peter (4:9)

The three commands of verses 7-9 are set in the context of the immediacy of the end of all things. The first two commands make sense in light of this imminent reality. First, be self controlled, or don't flip out because the end is coming. Our security is not found in this world, and so the coming destruction of this material world should not burden on our souls. Second, love each other. This also makes sense as we live in communities as reflections of Christ. We show Christ to one another without care for seasons or days. We have been filled with the Spirit and so love is simply our new way of living. But the third command might seem strange to our modern, individualistic ears. Sure, we love people...out there. Our home though is our home, after all. Our sanctuary from the outside world. Right? So when Peter tells us all to love strangers and foreigners, to be a friend to them and to do so without grumbling and complaining, and when we realize the implication is that we do this in the context of our home, our personal sanctuary, we might start looking for ways to turn this command into a metaphor. But that would be playing Twister with Scripture.

Our modern, enlightened minds have told us that we are the number one priority in our lives. Existence begins at home, Descartes might have put it. We have been taught from and early age that what we want and how we feel are the two most important things in our life. It is our desires and our self esteem that make up the bulk of reasons that lie behind the actions of our everyday lives. I want ice cream, and ice cream makes me feel good. Therefore I will go have an ice cream. Innocuous enough. But in the context of the end of the world, in the context of strangers and foreigners, in the context of loving all without ceasing, perhaps there are other considerations that need to be made before we go get ourselves an ice cream. Now, I am not saying there is anything wrong with getting an ice cream. What need to be challenged, or at least brought out into the daylight and examined, are the unconscious gears that churned out that particular action. Was it merely to satisfy personal, fleshly foodlust? Perhaps to gratify the "You deserve a break today" thought that we have been inundated with these past decades? What drives our actions? What lies behind our motivations to do whatever it is that we do? Paul calls us to consider the needs of our neighbor more important that our own, to consider others as more important than ourselves. How does this factor into our thought processes? Is "Does this bless others?" a box that we check off before we do anything in particular? More to the point of this verse, does "Is my house a place where others feel comfortable?" every cross our minds? How about this: "Is my life, and thereby, my personal space focused on blessing me, or on blessing others?" Or this: "Do I actively pursue blessing others with my goods and my spaces, or do I think that blessing others chiefly means staying out of their way?" What is the aroma of our homes? Is it welcoming and inviting, comfortable and outward focused? Or is the outside of the front door the only space we are willing to share with strangers? What is our own attitude, an extension of our personal space, homes in miniature we might say, as we move in and through society and culture? Are we good hosts?

Important questions that are not often asked. Especially when life is busy with work and family and hobbies. All good things with which the Author of Life has loaded up our plates. But our Author does not load up our plate simply to see if we can get through it all. He is more interested in how we get through it all. What is the fundamental attitude we carry through life? Do we make ourselves Grand Central Station, with everything starting here, with us, and then moving out? Do we decide what we export and import, and how much, and when? Or are we simply a railroad car, carrying cargo from the true Central Station, from Him, out into the world, traveling on the tracks He has laid for us? There are only two orientations in the world. Either we are looking at self or we are looking at the Father. Furthermore, there is not one area of life where this orientation does not manifest itself. Even in eating an ice cream.

As with everything we rely entirely on the Gospel. First and foremost because we do not have the right orientation in and of ourselves. We cannot live in such a way that puts others first unless we have been born again of the Spirit. Only with new hearts can we look outward. The cargo container, which is our life, must first be picked up and placed on the train. Then we can live oriented in the right direction. But if we have been born again, and the Spirit is at work in us, in what ways do we impede His work? In what part of our gardens do we refill, with the dirt of our sin, the holes He has dug to plant new fruit trees? How are we getting in His way? To stay on topic, we do not live 'gospel-y' lives when we see our homes as belonging to us. When we take private property to the absolute, and declare our homes free from the annoying interference of the Spirit, we are most definitely getting in His way. When Jesus bought us with His blood, He did not just buy our souls, keeping our name on the books until we get to heaven, as if salvation is merely reserving a table for Friday night at 6:30. He bought our entire lives, and He bought them for the here and now. Even our salvation is not intended for us. Our salvation plays a small bit part in a much larger story. We have been repurposed. When He bought our entire life, that included every extension of it. It included our homes, our own sacred personal sanctuaries. In other words, our homes are not our own to do with as we like. They belong to God, to do with as He likes. On the broad scale this means He can take it away from us at any point in time, and we can still trust His goodness. But this is covered in the first command, to be sober minded in all things and to not place the substance of our hope in these material things we are surrounded by. But what about the home He has allowed us to keep? What about the home He has obviously put us into? How do we reflect the Gospel there?

The first principle to always remember is that all things are gift. Everything you have, everything you eat, everything you see, everything you smell, everything is gift. This world is gift. Every minute in the day, every day in the year, every year of our lives is gift. This lies at the heart of understanding the world and our part in it through the lens of Gospel. We deserve nothing that we have received. Even the hard and painful consequences of our sins are gracious gifts, for every sin deserves instant and immediate death, followed by eternal and unending separation from God. But this is not what we receive. Far from it. We are given breath every day. We are given the means to live, every day. Beyond that we are given unnecessary joys and blessings every day. Gift. Complete gift. This is what grace looks like: a thrice holy God who cannot stand the sight of sin, becoming a man and living in the very pit of sin for 33 years. Surrounded by sin daily. Watching it express itself every minute. And then, taking all that sin and putting it on like a cloak, He bares the shame that sin carries with it. All so that you and I can continue to breath, without fear of death. This is grace. This is gift. A gift always has a giver. The giver of all these things is the Father. He actually does deserve everything, and yet His orientation is to give. Therefore Christian. What do you do with this gift? Do you also give? Do you also look a sinner directly in the face and give? Give of yourself, give of your property? If our very lives are a gift to us, is it not height of arrogance to not give of our lives to others? Remember, our lives were bought for a purpose. Our lives were given to us, not for us to keep for ourselves. We were granted breath, both physical and spiritual breath, with the purpose of taking life to others. Every aspect of our life, not one of which we can declare ours by right, is purposed for others. This includes, most inconveniently our own homes. So what do we do with them? How do we love and befriend the alien and stranger with our homes? Once we have answered that question, all that is left is to not grumble about it. He who complains is giving with his hands while grasping with his heart. But both hands and heart were bought by the blood. And so with every part of our self, none of which belongs to our self, with every extension of our self, none of which belongs to our self, let us give and make gift, and let us do so cheerfully. In light of the empty tomb, how can we do otherwise?

Resurrection Day 2012

We feasted last night. A royal feast it was too. Succulent lamb, slow roasted over open coals with a rosemary-white wine-mustard sauce. Potatoes Rosti with garlic and rosemary. Onion Gratin with gruyere. Butter lettuce with pear and gorgonzola. We feasted with joy and laughter. Delight was at our right hand, and festal pleasure at our left. It was a feast to remember. Grand though it was, last night was a mere preamble to this morning. All of last night was an appetizer, a small plate, shared among friends as we awaited the main course. Last night was the teaser plate the waiter brings to show off their specials. Last night, our mouths watered at the sight of it. Today we feast for real.

Its hard to imagine what the women in the garden must have been feeling that first of all Sunday Mornings. We have been living for 2000 years in Resurrection light and so our eyes have grown accustomed to the beauty. But for them, the sun had only just risen, as Mark's Gospel says. This new daylight was foreign to their eyes. Staring, open mouthed at the stone rolled away, terror must have filled their minds. Not only was their teacher dead, but now someone has stollen the body. Even the rights and privileges of the mourner were taken away from them. As they stooped to enter the tomb to make sure the body was not still there, they received a shock. The tomb was filled with light. Not light from the day outside, nor light from an oiled wick. A different kind of light altogether. A light that made our own sun look like shadow. It was coming from a young man dressed in white, apparently having waited just for them. The light must have thrown them to their faces. Even reflective glory is too magnificent to look at for long, when the glory comes from Him. Then words were spoken. Unthinkable words.

Today we feast at the table of our Lord. He himself has laid the table with his own pierced hands. From His pierced side came water and blood. We have been washed in that water, made clean and fit, granted access to this table. As we sit we find our goblets filled with His lifeblood, and on our plates, the bread from Heaven. It is on the body and blood of our Risen Lord that we feast. Only the Risen Body can make such a feast. Here we find true life. Life full and rich. Lasting life that sustains well beyond the grave. Life that gives us empty tombs as well. Therefore as we worship our Resurrected Lord today, let our worship be strong. Let our cheeks grow red with laughter. Let us feast with Joy, for Joy himself has come and joined fellowship. Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.

Musings on 1 Peter (4:8)

8: This is one of the most oft quoted verses of Scripture. For good reason too, but perhaps without fully understanding what we are saying. Peter notes the high importance of his own phrase by beginning with 'above all else', 'before anything else', or perhaps, 'if you don't get anything else out of this letter, get this.' He has heightened our anticipation. What is it that he wants us to understand 'above all else?' It is what everything he has been talking about boils down to. It is the gospel response in miniature. Love one another, or more literally, always have unceasing and intentional love among yourselves. Why? Because love covers a plethora of sins. How though? How does love cover sin? What does he mean by cover? Sweeping sins under the rug? Ignoring sin? Well, actually, to a certain extent, yes. The word for cover literally means, to cover, or hide. Uncomfortable as we are with the thought of hiding sin, let's start with what Peter does not mean. Throughout the Word we are given exhortations to judge others, especially leaders and teachers, by their fruit. By judge I mean examine or discern. This can only be done with a complete and honest understanding of their faults. So in this sense, we are not ignoring sin or sweeping sins under the rug, but rather holding them up in order to discern whether or not it is wise to listen to or follow a certain leader. Nor does Peter mean that when we cover sin, it magically disappears and all consequences automatically and instantly vanish. You can hide a bowling ball under the rug, but people will still trip over it. So we cannot use this verse to justify ongoing sinful behavior leading to annual harvests of bad fruit. Nor can we bring this verse to our aid when we want the inevitable consequences of major sins to simply fade gently into the forgotten past. Sin is still sin, and it is serious, and it will be judged, either on the cross or on the last day. We cannot ignore this all important truth.

So what does Peter mean? As always, context is key. The main phrase in this verse is to love one another. It is odd that it is never quoted when the subsequent phrase is. And the love covering sins bit only makes sense if this first phrase is what it is referring to. We are a new people, a new humanity, forming a new culture. Peter has gone to great lengths already to establish this point. We are a holy priesthood, with a new way of living. Our lives are different now because Jesus has been born, has died, was buried, has risen and ascended to His throne. All things are new. As His growing city on a hill, we are called to emulate His grace. We become 'little Christs' to an onlooking world. And our love for one another is our most potent testimony. Indeed it is one of the primary ways our nation-discipling takes shape. Around the central tenants of our Faith, a community is built up, manifesting itself in local expressions. We call these local visible manifestations of the great community local churches; local bodies that are part of the much larger whole. In these communities Christians live in close proximity to one another. We share our lives and share our bread. We indwell one another, living as one even as the Father and the Son are one. In this context we live in the presence of one another's faults as well. Thus Peter's exhortation is spot on. Unceasing and Intentional love. Both words are fit for the human existence. Unceasing because we grow tired. We don't see any growth in our friends and so we want to give up loving them. We want to throw in the towel because we are tired of their faults and failings. But Peter is firm. Unceasing. Don't stop. The thought that hides just under the surface of this verse is this: Did Jesus cease loving you? Did Jesus throw in the towel because He was tired of you? Of course not. How can we, then, stop loving one another when Jesus never did? Especially when the offenses against Him were far, far greater than the offenses against us. Therefore our love for one another must know no bounds.

Our love must not only be unceasing, but intentional as well. The word translated as 'fervently' comes from the Greek word meaning, to put forward, or to cast out. Either way the direction is the same. Love must come from within and move outward, and we must be the ones to do it. When a man goes fishing, he does not simply hold the pole upright at the edge of the lake, hook and lure dangling from the top. He winds up his arm, and throws the hook and lure as far out as he can. With purpose and intention he casts his bait into the environment before him, with hopes of catching a fish. Our love for one another must be the same. Too often we take a passive approach to love, which says, "Just don't get in their way." Or we define love as 'not offending'. But these are weak and anemic non-loves. Love must take initiative, love must be purposeful. We need to be casting our love into the environment before us, with the hopes of catching a friend. Again, Jesus did not simply 'leave us alone'. Nor did He seek to 'not offend'. He put Himself forward, while we were yet sinners, while we were still dead in our sins, while we still were lying in the Lazerine tomb He cast Himself upon the cross. And praise God He did.

Here we begin to see the meaning of sin-covering love. Among other things it is a matter of perspective. Being forgiven of our million dollar debt, how can we demand the quarter from our neighbor? Our sins against a thrice Holy God having been forgiven, how can we hold in contempt the sins of a imperfect saint against another likewise imperfect saint, namely ourselves? We cannot. It is hypocrisy. It is two tongues in one mouth, and God hates a double tongue. Our love for the brethren looks past the particular brother and sees the Spirit that dwells there. We all are a work in progress, and the same Spirit is at work in each of us. How can we get impatient with each other then? How can we cease loving without unwittingly growing impatient with the Spirit who is at work within them? Do not our demanding natures and our bitternesses speak lies about the Spirit's work? We return to perspective. The Father is infinitely patient with us. He gives us each breath, even the ones we use to complain and grumble about our brother. Does it make sense? No. Grace is far to wild and crazy for us to comprehend. But its not too crazy to emulate. We are called to. It is what we are remade for. In this sense, in so far as it can be, we do ignore the faults of one another. We emulate the grace that remembers iniquity no more. We must see the Lord first when we see our friends and brothers. When we see one another through that lens, love truly will cover a multitude of sins.

Peter is writing to the dispersed Jewish Christians who are scattered throughout the known world. They are without physical homeland. We are in their shoes. Our homeland is Jesus, and He is not physically present with us. He has given us as tokens of His presence both His own Spirit, and His own Body. The Spirit is at work to grow the body up into maturity, to prepare it for the eternal weight of glory that lies just beyond the great river. He has called us to live with one another in such a way that reflects the holiness and the beauty of the Father. When we hold on to grudges or do not let love cover offenses against our own self, we are not reflecting the love shown to us on the cross. We are reflecting instead the pettiness of our own sinful hearts. We, the pot, in the end, call the kettle black. How then can we reflect His grace? Let your love for one another be intentional and unceasing, because Love Himself has covered our sins. In this way the new community is built. Upon these stones the walls of this new kingdom are erected. With this foundation, this holy house cannot fall. It is the very soil in which the mustard seed grows into a giant tree, giving shelter to all the birds of the air.

Musings on 1 Peter (4:7)

7: We live in a fallen world. A world that has been ripped apart by sin. Through our sin, Death has entered. Our enemy and our deceiver. But though he be our foe, he lies on the ground both conquered and vanquished. His sword is dull, and his shield is beaten down. His armor is all but gone. O Death, where is thy Sting? Where is thy Victory? The Death Slayer stands poised, with His holy heel firmly pinning Death's head to the blood soaked ground, the shadow of a cross stretching out before his face. Death no longer holds the keys. He no longer claims his victims. He is forced to watch as his most dreaded fears come to pass. His only trick, the death of the human body, has become the means by which his Enemy, the Father Almighty, ushers in mankind to eternal rest and glory. And if that wasn't enough, Death will go to his destruction knowing that his gift to mankind, the corruption of the flesh, the dark night of the soul, will be once and for all resurrected into perfected and reflective light. The whole man will be whole again. No longer will the Spirit wage war with a fallen nature so deeply imbedded. Death despairs. Millennia of work, completely undone. Millennia of work, shown in the end to accomplish His good plan all along. Death's humiliation is complete. He is a stooge, a fool, the court joke. He is shown to be ridiculous. Holy laughter will reign down on his beaten and crushed head. Good wins. The story ends in marriage. All live happily ever after. All is comedy. Further up and further in.

Here is the backdrop for Peter's words of encouragement, "The end of all things is at hand..." This phrase refers either to the end of this created world, the end of the reader's life, or the end of Judaic age in 70AD, with the fall of Jerusalem. Either which way these words are taken, the encouragement stands. Death comes to us all. Either at the last trumpet, the martyr's flame, or in the wave of violent persecution, death will find us. We will cross the great river. When it comes to living on this earth, there is a 100% mortality rate. But what is death? Has not death simply become a door? Our modern philosophers want death to be final, complete, the end game. If death truly is a wall and not a window, then there can be no justice. A lack of final justice leads to complete and utter relativity and chaos. Nothing truly matters. And it is where self aware, honest, materialistic atheists end up. A dismal prospect. Also a lie about the world we live in. It is the lie that whispers in our ear in the final moments of life, "What was it all for?" "Did your life really matter?" It is the fear of these 'sweet nothings' that cause us in our youth to cry out with vigor, "Carpe Diem!" We must make something of ourselves. We must make our mark in the world. For death will come and then we will be gone. Kaput. No more. Lights out. Game over. And for many, many people that scares them, no pun intended, to death. To dwell on utter futility, utter meaninglessness. For in the absence of a God and without final and complete justice in the world, the universe is simply apathetic to your insignificant efforts to make a name for yourself. It's as if a grain of sand somewhere rose above the rest and declared, "I am Sand. And I matter," blithely unaware of the massive wave quickly, and unfeelingly, descending upon his podium. To the man without God, this is what his attempts to distinguish himself amount to. But there is a God. There is final and complete justice. And therefore, there is final and complete peace. Thus we rest in the justice of our God, for in a world governed by His just hand, there is meaning and purpose. We are no longer surrounded by chaos but by story. And if it is His story that we are surrounded by, and it is, then there is nothing in this world that can bring us harm. For we are the beloved children of the almighty and sovereign Author of all things. And that is comfort.

This is the thrust of Peter's exhortation to be sober minded, and self controlled, or watchful. We remember that Peter is writing to the Dispersed. Those Christians who were blown to the four winds of the known world, to the Christians suffering severe persecution. For many of them the end of all things was in deed very near, for them at least. Death was approaching quickly. And their persecutors, their murderers would have taunted them with these words of hopelessness. But their hope was this: death had lost on Golgotha. Therefore their own deaths would be mini-victories that embraced and partook in that Great Death, where Death itself received its first death blow. With each of our own deaths, the heel increases downward pressure. When the last saint dies, heel and ground will meet. Sisera, twice nailed to the floor of Jael's tent. So be sober minded. Think about these things. Be aware of what the implications of the cross and the empty tomb are. Not only understand it, but live in obedience to it. Be self controlled. Do not let fear of death, fear of unknown, fear of uncertainty bring despair into your life. Control the fear. Say to the Deceiver, "I see the cards you are holding, and they are nothing. You have shown your hand. You are bluffing." We have been given a spirit, not of fear, but of power, love and self control. This becomes our life: a life radically redefined by the empty tomb. We become invincible. Who can touch us? Who can harm us? If God is for us, who can stand against us? The answer is simple: no one.

Peter then adds the odd clause, "for the sake of your prayers." I believe Peter's goal is to lay the ground work for a life of dependancy. Pay attention, he is saying. Be aware of the story you are in. If we are with brutal immediacy aware of the human condition, and at the same time with ecstatic humility aware of the empty tomb, our prayer life will simply be our life. We will know our place before the throne. We will simply assume our dependance on Jesus is complete and touches every area of life. Through this dependance, the Gospel goes out and changes the world. Through this dependance, our lives begin to look like Jesus.