Category: Church Life

Rejecting autonomy is accepting responsibility

everything is the sum of every thing

and the space between is important

every thing is not everything but

everything

is

every

thing

the designed interweaving of individuality and totality cannot be unwound but it can be defaced by the refusal of one thing to revel in what it is

or for it to be not

or for it to be what shouldn’t be

that thing is the undoing of everything

every thing is connected in everything

and everything depends on every thing

and you are one

No pressure.

Stretching conjunctions to make the point that even in a culture of divisive “Or” choices, “And” can help us find common ground

We are people of Or.

Consider the type of questions we ask each other:

“Do you like vanilla Or chocolate?”

“Would you rather visit Hawaii Or Alaska?”

“Are you an early bird Or a night owl?”

“Are you a Republican Or a Democrat?”

“Do you drive a Ford Or a Chevy Or a Dodge Or one of those foreign cars?”

Or is a word that helps us to categorize. It helps us make decisions. It’s a good word.

But it is also a misleading word that can get us into trouble.

If we are not careful Or confuses us by simplifying complex things and complicating simple things:

“Is killing people good Or bad?”

Or can be used to reinforce divisions and foment tribalism:

“Do you agree with me Or with those idiots?”

We live in a culture of Or. It is a culture driven by revolutionary technologies whose united purpose seems to be segregating humanity into smaller and smaller demographic units, utilizing bits of them and bytes of their data to foster isolation, incite constant fear-based consumption, and reduce life to a nonstop series of Or decisions.

Or can be a good word, but it can also supplant another good word: And.

And also helps us categorize, but instead of looking for differences like Or, And is driven by the search for common ground. And helps us make decisions without forcing us into dichotomies.

I admit that I am biased by my history to prefer the word And to the word Or.

I received my education in private school, public school, And home school. I have worked in both blue And white-collar jobs in both for-profit And non-profit sectors. I have lived in the Eastern United States And the Western United States, in what some consider the North And in what some consider the South. I like vanilla And chocolate, want to go to Hawaii And Alaska, like staying up late And getting up early, and have voted for both Republicans And Democrats And other parties’ candidates And often on the same ballot, and I have owned and driven Ford And Chevy And Dodge And foreign.

Give me a choice between Or and And, and I will pick And almost every time.

I can’t be alone in this preference. Are there others in this crazy, polarized Or world who, like me, want to see people come together over the core they have in common rather than divide over the fringes that they don’t? I’m fed up, and maybe you are too.

If so, I invite you to join me in adopting the following Manifesto:

We, the people, being sick of teapot tempests, manufactured tribalism, social media manipulation, conflict culture, coercion by force, and the teaching of hate hereby refuse to conform any longer to arbitrary divisions based on non-essential differences fraudulently passed off as the meaning of existence and the foundation of reality. Instead, we will gladly cross boundaries, extend grace and kindness, and love our fellow humans the best we know how, even when we do not agree or approve of one another’s conclusions, positions, or lifestyles.

Furthermore, we insist that it is consistent and appropriate and important to befriend people who vote like we do And who vote differently than we do, to cultivate both breadth And depth in our relationships, and to admit the possibility that we might be wrong And they might be wrong And we might be right And they might be right.

Additionally, we will refrain from condensing complex humans into mental cardboard cutouts based on their preference for the things we don’t prefer, resist assuming complete understanding of othe people based on their shopping habits, and reject any attitudes that indicate that anyone is worthy of less consideration than anyone else.

We also affirm that it is possible to like both vanilla And chocolate, coffee And tea, Ford And Chevy, Star Wars And Star Trek, country And pop, and both sides of any other false dichotomy the advertising engine running the attention economy has attempted to institute.

In short, we choose to pursue a world in which And remains an option.

---

Resist the Machine,1 engage with the real people around you,2 and love like your life depends on it…because it does.3

Connecting silence, speech, and action.

As the water stilled by wind’s ceasing, footfall’s lacking, creature’s resting

So is the right mind in its silence

A mirror, reflecting made and Maker

A cover, concealing, protecting, inviting

As the pond stirred by trout’s rising, leaf’s alighting, rock’s skimming

So is the right word in its moment

A pattern, altering plane and perspective

A ripple, rebounding, expanding, inviting

As the bank struck by wave’s lapping, with sands’ moving, life’s growing

So is the right action in its response

A shift, coming from speech and silence

A transformation, touching, beginning, inviting

How Jesus fulfills all of mankind’s hopes, fixes everything that we broke, and finishes the work Creation started.

“Well, that went downhill quickly.”

If that is your initial thought when reading the Bible starting in Genesis, trust me, you’re not alone. It is a thousand-page book, and everything is broken by page three.

It was off to such a good start, too.

• Genesis 1: God creates everything “very good.”
• Genesis 2: Mankind has the tremendous privilege of filling the earth with more of God’s goodness and love.
• Genesis 3: Mankind listens to one of the beasts they are supposed to reign over and chooses to rebel against God, breaking everything for everyone.

It’s a tragedy and not a very long one.

Or, it would be a tragedy if not for God’s promise while speaking his judgment against the snake, the woman, and the man.

In Genesis 3:15, a verse it is easy to skip over, we see a ray of hope for the future:

“I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” (ESV)

It’s tempting to read that and interpret it as a vague antagonism between women and snakes or humans and snakes. Except for the last clause: “he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” That is a singular, masculine pronoun.

And that is important. God promises that one day, a man will come along who will gain victory over the serpent. To be sure, the snake would get his blow in and bruise the man’s heel. But the man will bruise the serpent’s head.

The implication is that the man will suffer, but that suffering will not prove ultimately fatal. However, the blow to the snake’s head will lead to his demise.

See? We may merely glance at the statement, but it is essential: God is giving humanity hope! When Adam and Eve heard this promise, they understood that while the serpent’s deception had led them to lose everything, God’s promise would one day restore everything.

As God clothed them in animal skins, they understood that God would make a way for their lives to be redeemed.

Driven from the Garden of Eden, they understood that God would someday grant them safe passage and a return to his presence.

They understood these things because of God’s promise in Genesis 3:15.

How do we know? Because of what follows. In Genesis 4, Adam and Eve’s sons, Cain and Abel, appear. Cain is born first, and Eve’s reaction is telling: “I have gotten a man with the help of the Lord.” (ESV)

Why did it matter that she had gotten a man? Did Eve, a woman, believe that a man was inherently better than a woman? Maybe, though God had created both man and woman in his image. Did she merely rejoice because a man would be more useful in the labor of daily sustenance? Maybe, but not necessarily.

It is far more likely that Eve remembered God’s promise of a future male offspring who would break the curse of sin by triumphing over the deceptive serpent, Satan.

But Cain wasn’t the promised one. Nor was Abel. We know that because of what happens next.

We see them worshipping God by each giving an offering to him. Abel’s offering to God is in line with what God had revealed in Genesis 3 by killing animals and clothing Adam and Eve: a blood sacrifice. Cain’s offering is the fruit of his labor in the fields: vegetation.

Both are worshipping God. Both are making an offering. But God accepts Abel’s offering and not Cain’s. There may not have been anything wrong with Cain’s offering, but we quickly see that something was wrong with his heart.

When God rejects Cain’s offering, it reveals jealousy and rage that drive Cain to kill Abel. God deals with Cain, but we need to see his mother’s response to understand how Adam and Eve understood God’s promise. Genesis 4:25 records Eve’s reaction to the birth of her third son, Seth: “God has appointed for me another offspring instead of Abel, for Cain killed him.” (ESV)

Eve was still looking for the promised “offspring.” She trusted God and knew Abel couldn’t be the promised one because he was now dead, unable to strike the blow to the serpent. And she knew that Cain, though still alive, couldn’t do it either: he had sullied his hands with his brother’s blood and was no longer worthy of spilling the blood of the snake. The promised one would have to be pure, unstained by the serpent’s lies and rebellion against God.

But she had another son, by God’s hand, so she had hope.

But Seth wasn’t the promised one. Nor was his son Enosh. Nor was his grandson Kenan.

But humanity kept looking for the fulfillment of God’s promise. That’s why the genealogies in the Old Testament are there: to help God’s people, those who trusted his promise, in their search for the promised one.

Generation after generation, name after name, there was hope for humanity because God had made a promise. And God always keeps his promises.

Some stand out from others. A descendant of Seth named Lamech thought he had the promised one identified. He said about his son, in Genesis 5:29, “Out of the ground that the Lord has cursed, this one shall bring us relief from our work and from the painful toil of our hands.” (ESV)

That son was Noah. Noah was important, and God used Noah to preserve the human race through the judgment of the flood, but Noah wasn’t the promised one. His deliverance of humanity from sin didn’t last: he fell into drunkenness after the flood.

The promised one would be like Noah in that he would provide sanctuary for all who would take refuge within his protection, but he would have to be better than Noah.

So, the search for the promised one continued. It zoomed in on the land of Ur, on a man named Abram. God called Abram to leave and to move to Canaan. God promised to bless the whole world through Abram and renamed him “Abraham.” But for all his obedience, Abraham struggled with letting God’s promises come about in God’s way: he continually manipulated the situation to try and bring about the promise on his own. So, Abraham wasn’t the promised one, merely one through whom the promised one would come.

The promised one would be like Abraham in that he would do whatever the Lord told him to do, but he would have to be better than Abraham.

At least the scope of the search was narrowing: the promised one would be Abraham’s descendant.

But it turned out not to be Abraham’s son or his grandson.

Years later, however, Abraham’s descendants found themselves enslaved in the land of Egypt. And God called one of them, Moses, to lead them out of slavery and out of Egypt and back to the land of Canaan. But Moses had a problem with his temper: he killed an Egyptian and disobeyed God in leading the people towards Canaan. He wasn’t the promised one.

The promised one would be like Moses in that he would lead God’s people out of captivity, but he would have to be better than Moses.

God’s people enter God’s promised land, but the promised offspring doesn’t appear. The people get into a cycle of ignoring God, falling into the hands of their enemies, repenting, and being rescued by a judge raised by God to save them, only to forget God again as soon as they are safe. Each of these judges had the potential to be the promised one in the eyes of the people. One, Shamgar, killed 600 enemies with no weapon but a wooden ox goad. But his victory didn’t last, and God had to raise another judge after him. So, Shamgar wasn’t the promised one.

The promised one would be like Shamgar in that he, too, would use an instrument of wood to conquer his enemies, but he would have to be better than Shamgar.

Eventually, God’s people grew tired of the never-ending cycle with the judges. They asked God to give them a king. God warned them that they wouldn’t like it, but they insisted. The first king, Saul, didn’t work out very well, but the second king was promising. His name was David, and the Bible tells us he was “a man after God’s own heart.” Surely, he was the promised one. Unfortunately, he wasn’t. David failed to keep himself pure, committing adultery with a friend’s wife and then arranging to have that friend killed. David wasn’t the promised one.

The promised one would be like David in that he would indeed be a man after God’s heart, but he would have to be better than David.

And on and on. God’s people, those still clinging to his promise of the coming one who would be God’s man, grew weary of watching and waiting. Waiting for a hundred years was a long time, but thousands were passing. Every time a potential promised one appeared, he failed.

It was becoming clear: no one was good enough. The best and the brightest of humanity had tried and failed. If God were to keep His promise, He would have to do something remarkably different than what people had seen before.

One group of God’s people realized this quite clearly. The Sons of Korah were servants of God and helped to write some of the Psalms that we find in the Bible. These were worship songs sung by God’s people as they praised and trusted him. In Psalm 49, the Sons of Korah realize something significant: the promised one couldn’t just be a man. In verses 7-9 of that Psalm, they write, “Truly no man can ransom another, or give to God the price of his life, for the ransom of their life is costly and can never suffice, that he should live on forever and never see the pit.” (ESV)

The Sons of Korah looked at this dismal record of failed promised ones and recognized something vital: a mere man wouldn’t be enough to fulfill the promise. To ransom humanity from their enslavement to evil, the promised one would have to be someone who wasn’t under the curse, who wasn’t bound by the lies of the Father of Lies, Satan, that old serpent.

But to fulfill God’s promise, the promised one still had to be the woman’s offspring. In other words, he couldn’t be merely human, but he had to be still human.

The Sons of Korah suggest a solution, whether they recognized it or not, in verse 15 of Psalm 49: “But God will ransom my soul from the power of Sheol, for he will receive me.” (ESV)

They recognized that a mere man could not ransom another man, but they rightly discerned that only God could and would be able to ransom them.

God knew that, too. All the “failures” that happened along the way weren’t God’s: he allowed the hope to build and his people to look expectantly at each new candidate. People may have been surprised by the failures, but God wasn’t. God wasn’t crossing his fingers as David was eyeing Bathsheba, thinking, “Man, I hope he doesn’t do it!” God wasn’t biting his fingernails as Moses stood before the people at the rock, whispering, “Please, oh please, don’t hit the rock!” Their failures aren’t God’s failures. God knew they weren’t the promised one; he knew they weren’t good enough. But he was preparing us for the one who would be. He was preparing us for the GodMan.

See, God could fulfill His promise only if the promised man were also God.

Many missed it, but that’s what eventually happened.

After thousands of years of delayed hope, of waiting and watching kings, prophets, and judges, of praying for the promised one, God sent his promised one.

He was a man born to a young peasant girl named Mary. His birth was just the same as every other human’s: messy. His first breath was like every other human’s: a prelude to a newborn’s squall. He grew. He learned. He got hungry, and he ate. He got thirsty, and he drank. He got tired, and he slept. He was human, an offspring of the woman.

He was also God. In the beginning, he was with God, and he was God. Before Abraham was, he is. He is the creator and sustainer of all things. He is the first and the last, the Alpha and Omega. He receives worship as God and does not correct the worshippers. He is God, able to ransom us from sin and death.

God’s man is the GodMan.

Jesus Christ is the only name given among men by which we may be saved because he is the only offspring of the woman who is also the one who created the woman.

Jesus Christ is 100% God and 100% man to finally fulfill the promise of God and reconcile humanity to himself.

Jesus Christ was the only one who could fulfill Genesis 3:15. He was wounded by the serpent and died on the cross. But he struck the serpent’s head by rising through the power of his divine perfection.

Jesus Christ opened a way for humanity to return to the presence of God, not by setting an excellent example for us, but by bringing the presence of God to us and taking the punishment we deserved.

Time and time again, we fail. But the GodMan, Jesus Christ, invites us to put our trust in Him, His incarnation, His life, death, burial, and resurrection.

And He will return one day and rebuild a new heavens and new earth where He and His people will reign and rest forever.

That’s how Jesus finally fulfills all of mankind’s hopes, fixes everything that we broke, and finishes the work Creation started.

Do you want in?

A short post (that is late and should have been posted last week: sorry) on an important topic

I recently preached 1 Peter 1:3-11. Afterward, someone said it seemed like I was close to preaching “works-righteousness,” and they were glad I had clarified that “salvation is by grace.” 

I thanked them and went on my way. 

But that conversation has stuck with me. As I’ve been mulling it over, I wonder if what I clarified was essential. I concluded that if my amendment blunted the impact of Peter’s point, it wasn’t helpful. 

We may need more works and less clarification. 

Now, before you write me off as a heretic, consider the following quotes:

“So if you ignore the least commandment and teach others to do the same, you will be called the least in the Kingdom of Heaven. But anyone who obeys God’s laws and teaches them will be called great in the Kingdom of Heaven.”

“So now we can tell who are children of God and who are children of the devil. Anyone who does not live righteously and does not love other believers does not belong to God.”

 “I see very clearly that God shows no favoritism. In every nation he accepts those who fear him and do what is right.”

Now, even though I didn’t attribute them, the astute among you will have already recognized that I am simply quoting from the New Testament. Above, from the New Living Translation of the Bible, are quotes from (in order) Jesus, John, and Peter. 

Are those guys heretics for talking so? 

And before you say anything, Paul agrees with them: 

“Well then, since God’s grace has set us free from the law, does that mean we can go on sinning? Of course not! Don’t you realize that you become the slave of whatever you choose to obey? You can be a slave to sin, which leads to death, or you can choose to obey God, which leads to righteous living.”

And before you say anything again, you should know I am not cherry-picking the juiciest verses. The New Testament condemns fruitless fake faith more than cautions against misunderstood motives for works. Over and over again, we are urged to “make every effort,” to “obey,” to “do.”

So why the nail-biting and over-frequent clarifications between works and grace? Why are we afraid to issue a clear call demanding works from professing Christians? 

We must understand the difference between the rightness of works and earning rightness by works. 

The New Testament’s call to works is not a call to earn our salvation but a call to demonstrate it. For that matter, the Old Testament call to works was the same. It’s not like works saved Israel and grace through faith saves the church: salvation has always been by grace through faith! The demand for God’s people to work has never been an attempt to make them earn God’s favor; it’s always sprung from the fact that they have received God’s favor. 

My goal from now on? Make no apologies for what the Word makes clear.

I encourage you to “make every effort” as well. 

Digging into the subversive message revealed in Peter’s introduction to his second letter.

Like many in my generation, I grew up watching Sesame Street. I loved Big Bird, Elmo, the Count, and their friends. One of my favorite recurring segments was “One of These Things.” If you know, then you know, but if you don’t, check out this sample:

https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/rsRjQDrDnY8?rel=0&autoplay=0&showinfo=0&enablejsapi=0

The idea was to help kids understand how to classify things: compare and contrast, reason and make inferences, and discern differences and similarities. Unfortunately, we may have learned too well.

Differentiation is a valuable skill, but it shouldn’t be applied equally in all areas. This fact is especially true when it comes to our faith. Christians have a rich heritage and a long history filled with people who show us what it means to follow Jesus. However, we tend to distinguish their faith from our faith. We imagine that those following Christ in the first century were somehow better than we are, more connected to the source. Or we suppose that there is little connection between their faith lived, we think, in simpler times, and our faith, living as we do in a complex and increasingly chaotic world.

But what Peter says in 2 Peter 1:1 indicates no distinction between their faith and ours. In his introduction, Peter writes:

“To those who have received a faith equal to ours through the righteousness of our God and Savior Jesus Christ.”

That statement catches us off guard. “Wait a second,” we exclaim, “Peter, you walked with Jesus. You ate with Him. You saw Him die and saw Him breathing again. Surely your faith is better than what we have based on second and third-hand testimony.”

But, it is we who are mistaken, not Peter. The value and worth of Peter’s faith, and that of other first-century believers, is not found in their closeness to the events of the New Testament but in the source of that faith: Jesus. Grasping that we have received an equal faith does much for our pursuit of Christ.

And much of what it does is destructive (but in a good way).

An equal faith destroys pride

Pride is the archnemesis of faith, taking on both egregious and insidious forms in its attempt to derail discipleship. On the blatant side, it puffs up our chests and elevates our noses, causing us to compare our best moments to others’ worst and conclude that we really are as impressive as we think. On the sly side, it weighs down our shoulders and drags at our feet, causing us to despair over our every failure as we observe others’ success, and we believe that we really are as horrible as we imagine.

The high and low versions of pride die when we realize that our faith equals Peter’s and those first-century saints’. God wants neither self-idolization nor self-immolation from us; He wants Christ’s transformation for us. So, He gives us an equal faith, based on His righteousness instead of our own, on His performance, not ours. He frees us from the comparison game at the heart of prideful self-focus by putting us all on a level field, from which we may all look up to an empty cross and an occupied throne.

An equal faith eliminates excuses

Peter died for his faith; I hesitate to mention mine lest someone make fun of me. That’s acceptable if Peter’s faith is better than mine. But it’s not; therefore, my cowardice is not excused. If a first-century believer’s access to eyewitnesses of the resurrection grants them a greater faith, then surely I can’t be held to the same standard 2000 years later. But I am. I don’t get to make excuses.

That’s because the equality of a received faith means that what Peter could do for Christ is the same as what I can do for Christ: be a bold steward of the resources and opportunities given to me for the sake of the Kingdom. I can respond to a crazy culture with faithfulness like those first-century believers because we have been given the same faith. Instead of being a prisoner of space and time, unable to change or influence either, we are given genuine freedom through a faith that transcends both. The early church received the faith and “turned the world upside down,” and they didn’t have anything more than we do, faith-wise, and had a lot less than we do, resource-wise. Where are our excuses now?

An equal faith obliterates idols

Peter and his church didn’t have an incredible worship team. They didn’t have Bible study resources written by world-renowned scholars (in fact, they didn’t even have what we usually consider the most crucial part of the Bible yet: the New Testament). They didn’t have podcasts, radio stations, or the Internet. But, somehow, they saw the Kingdom grow, lives changed, and good done.

That’s because they weren’t distracted by good things as they pursued the greatest thing: Jesus.

Too often, our contemporary, consumer-culture-reflecting Christianity presents stirring praise songs, in-depth Bible study, or engaging personalities as the (hashtag) goals for our discipleship when they were only ever meant to be means.

We make tools into idols, and then the power of an equal faith comes in with a hammer.

Worshipper, your faith is not meaningful because you get goosebumps when the worship team plays that one song; it is meaningful because Jesus is its source.

Student, your faith is not strong because you have armed yourself with arguments and facts; it is strong because Jesus is its origin.

Preacher, your faith is not remarkable because you were handed a microphone and a platform; it is remarkable because Jesus is high and lifted up.

Once we recognize that we share a common faith from a common source, we find our focus redirected to where it should have been all along: to Jesus. When that happens, we are able to enjoy worshipful songs, insightful commentaries, and engaging speakers as servants, not saviors. These things only help us see (but are not required for us to see) Jesus’ splendor, which an equal faith has already revealed.

Praise God, we have received an equal faith that destroys our pride, excuses, and distractions!

Peter’s final thoughts in his first letter urge us to pursue humility. Why is that so hard?

“I’m humble and proud of it.”

That was one of my favorite quotes when I was in youth group. Sure, I was speaking tongue-in-cheek, but there was enough truth in the second half of that statement to ensure the first half wasn’t true. 

Humility has always been the one virtue that I aspired to most of all but have never truly grasped. And the problem is that even writing that sentence wraps me up in internal conflicts: 

If I say I’ve never been humble, will I be perceived as humble? 

If I say that I aspired to humility, is that humility or pride? 

I admitted that I’m not humble. Does that mean I’m getting more humble? 

Welcome to my brain; apologies for the mess. 

As I’ve walked with Jesus alongside others, however, I’ve realized that my struggles in this regard are not unique. Like an old well, the deeper spiritual conversations get, the more gunk gets revealed. And most of the gunk in me and others that these conversations have revealed seems to relate to the lack of humility. 

The main issue for Peter’s first-century readers is likely the main problem for his twenty-first-century readers: we need to remember that it’s not all about us. I think that’s why he closes his first letter with instructions on humility:

“…All of you clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble. Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your cares on him, because he cares about you.”

There are several factors that I want to highlight in Peter’s instructions here. 

First, he uses a word picture that speaks volumes. He tells us to “clothe” ourselves with humility. In the original Greek, the word is egkomboomai (ἐγκομβόομαι) and was frequently used for slaves tying on an apron, or the mark of their servitude. So, Peter is intentionally equating the Christian putting on humility with a slave putting on the very thing that marked them as a slave. The mark of Christianity is humility.

Second, Peter tells his readers why Christians are to be clothed with humility: because God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. Peter quotes from several Old Testament passages in Isaiah and Proverbs, but he could have drawn this teaching from many Scripture references. God sets Himself as an opposing army towards the proud but allies Himself with the humble. Salvation is found in the confession of our inability to save ourselves and our utter dependence on God’s provision for us in Christ. Humility “comes with the territory,” so to speak. 

Finally, Peter tells us the result of our humbling: God will exalt us. And the reason He will do that is that He cares for us. People get the wrong idea about God. They think He is a cosmic killjoy, just waiting for us to screw up so He can give out a good ol’ smiting. But that’s not right at all. God doesn’t take pleasure in casting down; He delights in raising. Why would He bother to create us if only to destroy us? No, God rejoices in building His people up. 

This means His people ought to delight in lowering themselves down. 

Maybe that doesn’t make sense. How about this: 

“Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He will exalt you. And wherein does the exaltation consist? The highest glory of the creature is in being only a vessel, to receive and enjoy and show forth the glory of God. It can do this only as it is willing to be nothing in itself, that God may be all. Water always fills first the lowest places. The lower, the emptier a man lies before God, the speedier and the fuller will be the inflow of the divine glory. The exaltation God promises is not, cannot be, any external thing apart from Himself: all that He has to give or can give is only more of Himself, Himself to take more complete possession.”

Andrew Murray

Christ-follower, Peter calls us to humility because Christ calls us to humility. We can relate to one another and the world humbly because Christ showed us the way and because we want more of Him in us. 

Make it your delight to humble yourself and let God delight to exalt you in Christ. 

How Peter (and Jesus) offer us a slightly different approach to preparing for and surviving the apocalypse.

I haven’t had my finger on the pulse of Christian pop culture for a while now, but I once did. Regular trips to the representative local bookstore, with its racks overflowing with CDs from the latest sanctified knockoffs of popular secular music, its shelves replete with fictional mutterings mimicking J.K. Rowling, R.L. Stine, S.E. Hinton, and more, and with vaguely spiritual tchotchkes sprinkled throughout as garnish, kept me up to date. 

There was a time when those trips to Family Christian Bookstore were motivated by a particular obsession: locating and purchasing the next installment in the bestselling series, Left Behind. And there were a lot of next installments.

This novelization and serialization of the end times visions of John, author of the Book of Revelation, took the church scene by storm in the 90s and early 00s. Like every other “good” Christian then, I got caught up in the excitement. 

The series imagines what the seven-year Great Tribulation would be like—the answer: terrible. Death and destruction follow the surprising disapparation of millions in the Rapture. Antichrist, one world government, syncretistic religion, plagues, starvation, the Mark of the Beast…this series has all the good stuff, and it hooked thirteen-year-old me, along with millions of others, if the sales reports are accurate.

And it was all just a “flavor-of-the-month” thing. You can hardly give your original twelve-volume set of Left Behind to Goodwill because they’ve already got three complete sets on their shelves. 

It turns out that obsession with the “end times” is nothing new for Christ’s people, but the results have not always been as benign as a glut of cheap paperbacks. Consider:

Paul tells the Thessalonians that they should imitate him and not be idle. Scholarly tradition tells us that the Thessalonian believers were quitting their jobs to wait for Jesus to return. Those who continued working were forced to provide food and shelter for those who didn’t.

The Children’s Crusade was a movement of, well, children in the Middle Ages marching to Jerusalem where they would preach the gospel, the heathens would be converted, and Jesus would return. Jesus didn’t, and most of the kids ended up sold as slaves or drowned when their ships sank. 

William Miller, Baptist preacher, and end times guru, drew a line in the sand and stated that Jesus would return on October 22, 1844. He didn’t, but Millerites went on to start several new cults, anyway. 

It’s not just the Christians: apocalyptic, dystopian imaginings are in vogue in the popular conscience right now. Everyone is obsessed with the End. 

This makes Peter’s words in chapter four of his first epistle even more relevant:

“The end of all things is near…”

Based on Christian and non-Christian history, a statement like that should be followed by doomsday ranting, detailed prepper notations, or some other craziness. But Peter doesn’t tell his audience to steal food and hoard ammunition. Instead, his prescription is a bit more shocking: 

“…therefore, be alert and sober-minded for prayer.”

Really, Peter? The end is near, so keep your head on straight and pray? That’s your advice? 

Well, that’s not all. Peter tells his readers to love one another, be hospitable, serve others, share God’s Word, rejoice, trust and glorify God, and do good. That’s all a little bland for the “end of all things,” don’t you think?  

But Peter’s instructions are surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) much like Jesus’ teaching about the end times. When the disciples come to him, desperate to have their eschatological itch scratched, Jesus disappoints them by saying something shockingly unapocalyptic: Be alert, keep working, don’t freak out. 

“Watch out that no one deceives you… see to it that you are not alarmed…if anyone tells you, ‘There he is’…or, ‘Here he is…’ do not believe it. For as lightning that comes from the east is visible even in the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man…keep watch…be ready…It will be good for that servant whose master finds him doing [his job of caring for others] when he returns.”

The end of all things isn’t something we need to worry about. Peter and Jesus say we must greet it with steadfast obedience, not panicked shouting. 

It’d be hard to write a best-selling novel series with that premise but think how it would change our homes and churches if we believed and lived it. 

Why 1 Peter 4:2 shouldn’t freak us out, and how knowing God’s will is a lot easier than we make it out to be.

“…live the remaining time in the flesh no longer for human desires, but for God’s will.” – 1 Peter 4:2

That’s a bold and clear statement from the Apostle. Unfortunately, “God’s will” inspires much apparent confusion and hesitation amongst Christians today. Kevin DeYoung calls attention to this fact in his excellent book, Just Do Something, when he quotes the following from larknews.com (a Christian satire site, now defunct): 

Man, 91, Dies Waiting For the Will of God

Tupelo, Miss. – “Walter Houston, described by family members as a devoted Christian, died Monday after waiting 70 years for God to give him clear direction about what to do with his life. “He hung around the house and prayed a lot, but just never got that confirmation,” his wife Ruby said. “Sometimes he thought he heard God’s voice, but then he wouldn’t be sure, and he’d start the process all over again.” Houston, she says, never really figured out what his life was about, but felt content to pray continuously about what he might do for the Lord. Whenever he was about to take action, he would pull back “because he didn’t want to disappoint God or go against him in any way,” Ruby says. “He was very sensitive to always remain in God’s will. That was primary to him.” Friends say they liked Walter though he seemed not to capitalize on his talents. “Walter had a number of skills he never got around to using,” says longtime friend Timothy Burns. “He worked very well with wood and had a storyteller side to him, too. I always told him, ‘Take a risk. Try something new if you’re not happy,’ but he was too afraid of letting the Lord down.” To his credit, Houston, who worked mostly as a handyman, was able to pay off the mortgage on his modest home.”

That story resonates with me. It’s probably because my life could have easily been the same as the fictional Walter Houston. In my case, however, life’s track was rerouted by the wonderful woman God gave me as wife who, as I was dithering about what to do, took my face in her hands and said, “I don’t care what you do, just do something.” (Yes, I laughed when DeYoung’s book came out later: I’m still convinced he stole the title from her, somehow). 

The humor of satire comes from the sting of its truth. I’m not sure I can put my finger on the universal reasons why many Christians view figuring out God’s will as tricky, but I can tell you in my case that I didn’t fear making the wrong move; I was afraid of making any move and failing. Saying I wanted to “discern God’s direction” freed me from taking any responsibility for my life. Could it be that I’m not alone, that others would have the same fear of definitive action? 

For whatever reason, many Christians struggle to act on their faith, and some say it’s because they are still trying to figure out what God wants them to do. 

The strange part of all this handwringing about finding God’s will is that He has never hidden it from us. The Bible is chockful of references to what the Lord “wills,” and that’s even before we add in synonyms like “desires,” “wants,” “commands,” “asks,” “loves,” “seeks,” and more. Consider the following verses: 

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” Micah 6:8

“For this is the will of my Father: that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him will have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.” John 6:40

“For this is God’s will, your sanctification…” 1 Thessalonians 4:3

“God our Savior, who wants everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.” 1 Timothy 2:3-4

“The Lord…is patient with you, not wanting any to perish but all to come to repentance.” 2 Peter 3:9

Those are the tiniest sampling of verses revealing God’s will to us. If I could condense them all, I would say that what God wants us to do with our lives is to join Him in restoring human relationships, with Him and with one another. It’s simple, and you don’t need to pray about it. 

“Hold on,” you say. “Don’t I need to discover whether or not I’m called to ministry?” 

No. If you’re a Christ-follower, you’re called to ministry. Ministry is not an optional occupation for super-Christians; it’s the expectation for every Christian. Doing God’s will is for everyone. 

That said, the actual work of restoring relationships will look different in different people’s lives. We are all gifted differently, wired differently, and will have different opportunities. It’s tempting to measure our lives against others. Don’t fall into that trap. We all have the same purpose in Christ, but how it plays out in our lives will be unique. 

Work in the factory. Love the 12 kids God gives you. Share garden produce with your neighbors. Go on a mission trip. Teach Sunday School. Sell everything and move to Africa. Surrender to preach. Rock some babies. Sweep the floors. Stack the chairs. Bake the bread. Write some books. Host some dinners. 

Augustine is frequently misquoted as saying, “love God, and do what you want.” While I do not favor misquoting historical personages, I appreciate the sentiment expressed in this misquote. Instead of debating, discussing, discerning, and dithering, love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength and do something. When you love God with everything you are, you will naturally want others to discover the surpassing joy of knowing Him. Everything you do will be tinged with the light of grace and purpose as you seek to connect others to the source of life and goodness. 

Do you love God? Live in such a way that, no matter what you are doing, it points others to their Heavenly Father, who loves them and offers restoration. That’s His will. That’s all He is asking you to do. 

How weird is it if I can talk about a football team but can’t talk about my Lord and Savior?

As I write this post, I look forward to an event that will take place seventeen days from now: the first game of the Boise State football season. While I am nowhere near as obsessed as I once was with the BSU Broncos, I still regularly read articles about them, follow their recruiting, and anticipate celebrating their victories and lamenting their defeats. 

The trouble is, I live far from the scenic vistas of Southern Idaho and the striking blue turf of Albertsons Stadium. Virtually no one living in western KY shares my fandom or spares a second thought for the Broncos. When everyone is talking about the Southeastern Conference and its football dominance or wondering if this will be the University of Kentucky’s year, I find myself struggling to shoehorn BSU into the conversation. Most people look at me strangely and then go on, but sometimes someone will engage, usually to say how poorly Boise would perform in a real conference like the SEC. But I keep trying because someone occasionally asks me why I like BSU, their blue field, or why I keep talking about them. Then I get to share the good news of the Blue and Orange with them. 

Boise State is special to me, and no matter how people react, I want others to see them as I do. 

That’s a sliver of an analogy to what I think Peter is saying in the third chapter of his first letter. Writing to those he calls “those chosen, living in exile,” he tells them:

But even if you should suffer for righteousness, you are blessed. Do not fear them or be intimidated, but in your hearts regard Christ the Lord as holy, ready at any time to give a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you. Yet do this with gentleness and reverence, keeping a clear conscience, so that when you are accused, those who disparage your good conduct in Christ will be put to shame.

He’s writing to those persecuted for their faith and his encouragement to keep their focus on Christ’s Lordship and on his holiness. “Holy” carries the idea of being “set apart,” being “lifted up,” being “most important.” 

If you’ll permit me to paraphrase: 

It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks or how they mistreat you for loving Jesus. You know He is unique, set apart, and different from anyone else: focus on Him, your Master, and don’t worry about what they do to you. Your fearless faith will make them curious, so make sure you can tell them why you’ve placed your trust in Jesus when they ask you why you’re not afraid. Just don’t be a jerk about it. 

Peter’s call is for Jesus’ people to make Jesus preeminent in their lives. When something has that pride of place in our heart, we find it easy to talk to others about it, we will suffer if needed to continue enjoying it and continually think about it. 

I am ready to talk about my Boise State fandom when people ask me about it. But when people ask me about Jesus, do I clam up? How weird is it if I can talk about a football team but can’t talk about my Lord and Savior? As much as football looks like a religion in certain parts of the country, its significance pales compared to the “pure and faultless religion” that keeps Jesus at its heart. 

When we suffer for following Jesus or when our culture mocks us and Him, we should remember who He is: He is in charge and set apart. When we remember, we can endure the worst the world will throw at us. And when we do so with joy, peace, and hope, we invite curiosity and will get to share the Good News. 

“Go Broncos” is fun.

But “Go Jesus” is life-changing.