After I got out of the Navy at the end of 1976, I worked at a gas station for several months. I didn't have any training as a mechanic, so my duty was to pump gas, check oil and wash windows (there weren't many self-serve stations yet, so those things were expected as part of the deal). One day I was filling a man's tank and I saw on his bumper a sticker that said, "Read Your Bible." I was hoping for a few minutes of fellowship while the pump was running, so I asked him, "are you a Christian?" And he jumped, turned, and said (very aggressively), "yes... why?" I was so startled by the harshness of his response that I just muttered something and walked away. I think he was startled too; he thought I was ready to pounce on him for identifying himself as a Christian and he wanted to be ready to fight back, if necessary.
I thought about that man after he drove away. Why did he react the way he did? And if he was so easily threatened, why did he put that bumper sticker on his car? I suspect he struggled with the very thing Paul has been warning Timothy about since verse 8: "Do not be ashamed of the gospel." He didn't want to be ashamed, so he hoped that sticker would provide him with opportunities to speak openly to the world. But his basic outlook was still one of huddled defensiveness. It's easy, in a world that rejects the gospel, to slip into a defensive mentality.
We saw, earlier in chapter one, that Timothy is in danger of becoming ashamed of the gospel. That's why Paul is putting so much emphasis on this in these verses. Timothy, by nature, tended to be reserved; he seems to have been easily intimidated. And, as a minister of the gospel in the Roman empire, there's good reason why he might be nervous and defensive. In a world that worships power and success, Timothy's mentor is wasting away in prison and His Lord had died in apparent powerlessness and defeat.
So Paul tells Timothy, "don't be intimidated." The value of the gospel can't be measured by the priorities of this world. Those who rejected Jesus will also reject us when we speak in His name. Those who value power and wealth and status will see the gospel as foolishness (or they'll try to twist it into something more consistent with what they want). Paul is saying, "don't be ashamed of this seemingly foolish message, and don't be ashamed of your association with me, a prisoner for the Lord – an apparent failure; be faithful in exercising your spiritual gifts in Jesus' name, and join with me in suffering for the gospel." That's the main thing Paul is saying in this chapter.
The danger is not only that Timothy will feel personally intimidated or that he will react defensively when someone asks him a question. The danger is that, if he gives in to the temptation of shame, Timothy will begin tampering with the message. He'll try to adapt it into something more respectable, something less at-odds with the mentality of the surrounding culture. This is what Paul is thinking of when he writes to the Galatians: "It is those who want to make a good showing in the flesh that try to compel you to be circumcised – only that they may not be persecuted for the cross of Christ" (6:12). He's saying that the false teachers are motivated by their shame of the gospel, so they've distorted the message. They've turned it into something more respectable, less at-odds with their society.
So Paul urges Timothy, in verse 13: "Hold to the standard of sound teaching," and in verse 14: "Guard the good treasure entrusted to you." Timothy is a steward. He's been entrusted with something that doesn't belong to him. This deposit, or treasure, that Timothy's been entrusted with includes two things: the content of truth, and the gospel lifestyle rooted in the truth. Paul has both of these things in mind when he urges Timothy, "guard the good treasure." We need to keep these things together, because there's a strong temptation to separate them. On the one hand, there's the anti-theology approach: "I'm not interested in all that stuff; just tell me what I need to do to get to heaven. I don't care about creeds, or the teachings of the Church; I've accepted Jesus Christ as my personal savior and that's all that matters." But the other extreme is no better. It sees Christianity as an interesting collection of ideas to think and talk about. Several years ago, I read a very good book on the theology of Paul, and on the dust jacket there was a comment from a prominent New Testament scholar saying "these things need to be thoroughly discussed." Well, yes, there's a place for sitting down and discussing ideas, but if those ideas are true we need to do a great deal more than talk about them. One day we're going to stand in God's presence, and He's not going to ask whether we thoroughly discussed all the ideas He gave us. He's going to ask, "how is it that you knew all these things and didn't put them into practice?"
The good deposit that Timothy is to guard is not only a collection of ideas. It's not only a body of doctrine. It is that, but this body of doctrine is not given just to inform us intellectually. Paul makes this clear by two phrases he adds in verses 13 and 14: "Hold to the standard of sound teaching... in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus" (v. 13); and "Guard the good treasure... with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us" (v. 14). Paul is talking about the body of truth that he taught in the Church and the way of life he both modeled and taught. I used to work in the home office of a mission organization. The business manager was a man who'd been trained at Wharton; he'd spent most of his adult life in the business world, then he had joined this mission. He was very conservative theologically; he was concerned to always fellowship in "Bible-believing churches" that were rooted in God's Word. But in the office, he was critical, unkind to co-workers, autocratic and overbearing. One man who'd known him in church before he came to work for him was shocked at the difference. This man was concerned about holding to "the standard of sound teaching," but he hadn't allowed that teaching to affect the way he treated other people in the workplace. Paul is saying that these things need to be kept together. Timothy has heard Paul's teaching and he's seen Paul embody a lifestyle consistent with that teaching. Now that Paul's near the end of his life, he reminds Timothy to do the same, not by the power of his own determination but "with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us."
In verse 15, Paul shows that this danger isn't just something he dreamed up. When we're in difficulty, as Paul is at this point, our perception can become clouded. We can imagine that everyone is against us and that things are worse than they really are. We can overstate the danger and become paranoid. After Elijah had his great moment at Mt. Carmel, he fled from Jezebel because she threatened to kill him. And when he was praying about his situation, he told the Lord, "I'm the only one left, and now they are seeking to kill me." But God corrected him: "I have kept 7,000 for myself who have now bowed the knee to Baal; you're not the only one." Elijah's perception had become clouded. He'd lost his sense of perspective.
But that's not the problem with Paul. He says, in verse 15: "You are aware that all who are in Asia have turned away from me, including Phygelus and Hermogenes." Many of his co-workers are deserting him at this point. The question is, why have they deserted him? Barnabas, years before, had separated from Paul over a disagreement. But Barnabas had continued to faithfully preach the gospel. Paul was difficult to work with, I suspect. But something different is going on here. Remember what Paul is emphasizing throughout this section: he begins with "Do not be ashamed... of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner, but join with me in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God" (v. 8). And we can see that he still has this in mind by what he says a little later, about Onesiphorus: "he was not ashamed of my chains." He's contrasting Onesiphorus with these others from Asia, because they did the very thing he's been warning Timothy about: they turned away from Paul because they were ashamed of his suffering. But they weren't only ashamed of Paul; they were also showing that they were ashamed of the Lord Himself: "Do not be ashamed... of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner." They were ashamed of Paul, not as a person, but as a "prisoner of the Lord." They had stayed with him until he was thrown in prison, then they left.
It's not that they were embarrassed to be associated with him because of some defect in his personality. William Barclay has a good description of what was going on: "When Paul was imprisoned his friends abandoned him – most likely out of fear. The Romans would never have proceeded against him on a purely religious charge; the Jews must have persuaded them that he was a dangerous troublemaker and disturber of the public peace. There can be no doubt that in the end Paul would be held on a political charge. To be a friend of a man like that was dangerous; and in his hour of need his friends from Asia abandoned him because they were afraid for their own safety" (The Letters to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon, p. 155). They were afraid for their safety and were unwilling to "join with [Paul] in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God."
Then, in verses 16-18, Paul encourages Timothy with a positive example. He's saying, "yes, there are these who've turned away in fear, but look at Onesiphorus; he exemplified the very things I've been talking about." It seems likely, from the language Paul is using, that Onesiphorus has died: "May the Lord grant mercy to the household of Onesiphorus," followed by references to him in the past tense." In v. 18, Paul says, "may the Lord grant that he will find mercy from the Lord on that day." He seems to be speaking here about someone who's no longer living.
Onesiphorus had taken a considerable risk in seeking out Paul. All these others from Asia had departed in fear, but Onesiphorus "searched hard for me until he found me." This would have put him in danger, asking questions about a convicted criminal (especially one who, very likely, was held on a political charge). He "wasn't ashamed of [Paul's] chains." Then, when he found Paul, he "often refreshed" him. But that seems to have been a consistent pattern in his life, because Paul goes on to say, "You know very well in how many ways he helped me in Ephesus." Onesiphorus modeled the things Paul is concerned about in these verses, so Paul encourages Timothy by pointing to his example. The author of Hebrews, writing to people who were suffering and who were tempted to turn away, said: "Remember your leaders, those who spoke the word of God to you; consider the outcome of their way of life [these also seem to be people who've already died], and imitate their faith" (13:7). When we're in difficulties, it's helpful to think about others who've faced similar things and who have persevered in faith.
There are some who question whether Onesiphorus was dead, and it is true that Paul doesn't come right out and say that he is. His language sounds that way, and most of the commentators I consulted believe he was dead at the time of Paul's writing. The main problem is in verse 18: "May the Lord grant that he will find mercy from the Lord on that day!" If Onesiphorus is dead, it sounds like Paul is offering up prayers for the dead. We don't have time to go into this in detail, but it doesn't seem to be a terribly serious problem. Surely it's appropriate to express such wishes in God's presence, whether a person is living or dead: "May the Lord grant that he will find mercy from the Lord on that day" (he's looking forward here to the future day of Judgment). William Barclay's comments are helpful: "This is a subject on which there has been long and bitter dispute; but this one thing we can and must say – if we love a person with all our hearts, and if the remembrance of that person is never absent from our minds and memories, then, whatever the intellect of the theologian may say about it, the instinct of the heart is to remember such a one in prayer, whether he is in this or in any other world" (p. 157). Paul is grateful for the memory of Onesiphorus, so he lifts him up in God's presence. We don't need to sort out all the theological questions connected with this; we're free to bring those we love – living or dead – into God's presence in prayer. We don't need to feel theologically bound to exclude from our prayers those who've passed out of this life. "May the Lord grant that [they] will find mercy from the Lord on that day."
So Paul's message to Timothy, in this first chapter, is "do not be ashamed... of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner, but join with me in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God." Part of that involves holding firmly to the body of truth he received from Paul the apostle and living in the light of that truth. Satan's goal is not just to embarrass him or make him feel stupid and foolish; Satan's goal is to destroy him, and in destroying him to also destroy the faith of those under his spiritual care. Satan wants to make him ashamed of the gospel, so that he'll tamper with it and make it into something more palatable, something less offensive to sinful, rebellious people (and also, something different from the true gospel). Timothy needs to be aware of the danger, and he needs to exercise diligent care, relying on the power of the Holy Spirit.
We don't live in the Roman empire, as Timothy did, but we still live in a world that, by its very nature, is hostile to the message of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We still live with the temptation to be intimidated and to begin twisting the gospel into something more consistent with what we (and others) want. How do we resist that temptation? 1) By reminding ourselves often that the gospel doesn't belong to us. It's something we received. We've been entrusted with a precious treasure. Our business, in the Church, is to be faithful stewards of this message we've received. 2) By seeking to order our lives in obedience to the gospel. Disobedience to the truth is just as serious as refusal to believe the truth. It's not insignificant that in the book of Acts, Christianity is referred to as the Way: "Meanwhile Saul... asked... for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way... he might bring them bound to Jerusalem" (9:1-2). Christianity is not just a content of belief; it's a way of life. Faithfulness to the gospel includes holding firmly to the doctrines we've received and ordering our lives in the pattern revealed in the New Testament. 3) Look for negative examples and learn from them. Take note of those who've fallen away and ask, "how can I avoid falling into the same trap? Are there things in my life that, over time, will lead me in the same direction?" 4) Look for positive examples to follow. We need more than biblical principles to learn how to live a Christian life. We need to see the gospel embodied, or incarnated, in the lives of real people. Spend time with people like that; read biographies of godly people; spend time meditating on some of the great examples in Scripture. If your immediate response is, "I don't want to do that sort of thing," recognize that as the sin of sloth, repent of it, and stir yourself to obedience.
J.I. Packer, near the beginning of his book, Knowing God, says this: "I walked in the sunshine with a scholar who had effectively forfeited his prospects of academic advancement by clashing with church dignitaries over the gospel of grace. ‘But it doesn't matter,' he said at length, ‘for I've known God and they haven't.'" Obedience to the truth had cost him something. Those who commit their lives to the gospel, who seek to be faithful stewards of this treasure, do not look back with regrets, even when faithfulness to God results in great personal cost. Paul is writing this letter very near the end of his life, and he's saying to Timothy, "it's worth it to keep going; do everything within your power to hold firmly to the gospel of grace, but do it all looking to the Holy Spirit for strength; don't be ashamed or intimidated by the sufferings I'm enduring." Those who make it their aim to be faithful to God in both thought and action, and who persist in this till the end of their lives, don't get to the end with regrets. They're able to say, as Paul says near the end of this letter, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing" (4:6-7). May God grant us grace to hold firmly to the unspeakable treasure He's given us.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Not Disappointed in God, 2 Timothy 1:11-12
As we've seen already in our studies in 2 Timothy, Paul is suffering. He's in prison because of God's call on his life – to be a preacher, apostle and teacher of the gospel. He's suffering in a way that he wouldn't have, if God had left him alone and let him follow his own inclinations. Remember that Paul had been a successful Pharisee; he was trained by Gamaliel, a very prominent Rabbi; he had a good career. He had gone beyond many of his contemporaries and was an up-and-coming leader. He was held in high esteem. But now he's in prison.
I suspect, at times, that he's felt the temptation to be disappointed in God. Is this the way God cares for His servants? Once, when St. Theresa of Avila was on a journey, she was sick and one thing after another had gone wrong. Finally, she reached the end of her rope and cried out: "‘Lord, amid so many ills this comes on top of all the rest!' The voice answered her: ‘That is how I treat my friends.'" And then she replied: "Ah my God! That is why you have so few of them!" (quoted by Martin Thornton, in Christian Proficiency, p. 95). I suspect Paul has felt the same temptation. Why isn't God taking better care of him? Why is he wasting away in prison when he could be doing so much good on the outside?
These two things are often difficult to reconcile: God cares for us and has promised to provide for our needs; and God very often doesn't do what we want Him to do, or even what we think we need. I often think about Mary, having to travel to Bethlehem at the end of her pregnancy (without the comfort of modern transportation). I suspect she was tempted to ask: "why now? Couldn't this trip have been made earlier, when I wasn't ready to deliver my baby?" And then, arriving in Bethlehem and being turned down by one place after another. How did she feel when they finally had to settle for a stable? She had experienced, in her body, the most extraordinary miracle in the history of the world. Surely God was with her; she was carrying the Second Person of the Trinity in her womb. So why didn't He provide a better place for her to give birth?
Paul is suffering as he writes 2 Timothy, and it will become apparent later in the letter that he is near the end of his life. He's soon going to be executed by the Roman government, this man who not too many years before had been a gifted, promising young Pharisee. But he doesn't say, "oh no, I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere; there must be some mistake." He says: "For this gospel I was appointed a herald and an apostle and a teacher, and for this reason I suffer as I do." His suffering is a direct result of his faithfulness to God's call. And he goes on: "But I am not ashamed, for I know the one in whom I have put my trust...." His suffering is not a cause for shame, because he knows God and is confident that He will be faithful, that God will care for him until he arrives safely in the Kingdom of Heaven. Whatever may be going on in our lives right now, God will not disappoint us in the end. He is faithful and powerful, and we can trust Him to care for us.
Notice, first, that Paul's life has been completely rearranged by God's call. He didn't choose his career as an apostle by weighing his options and deciding on the most promising profession. He had already chosen his profession in becoming a Pharisee, but then God had interrupted his plans. Jesus had appeared to him on the road to Damascus, where he was going to arrest Christians, and he had been temporarily blinded. Then Ananias, a believer in Damascus, had been sent to pray for him to receive his sight back. This is what the Lord said to Ananias: "Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name" (Acts 9:15-16). Jesus didn't sit down and make a deal with Paul. He called him: "he is an instrument whom I have chosen." Because of who He is, He has the right to interrupt our plans and rearrange our lives.
Think about this in the light of how we often promote our churches: "We've got what you are looking for, come get it" (quoted by William H. Willimon, "It's Hard to be Seeker-Sensitive When You Work for Jesus"). I want to say, when I hear this sort of thing, "are you sure?" Is this what Paul was looking for: "I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name"? The gospel is unspeakably precious, but not because it gives us what we're looking for. We're often looking for the wrong things anyway. The gospel isn't just an offer, like other offers we receive in the marketplace. The gospel is God's call, and His provision, for us to be reconciled to Him. And in responding to the gospel's offer of grace and mercy, we also accept God's call on our lives, the God who has the right to interrupt all our carefully laid plans, the God who often redirects our lives in ways we never would have planned for ourselves.
Mary was chosen to give birth to the Son of God, and she responded to God's call with faith and submission: "Behold, the handmaid of the Lord; let it be done to me according to your word." The immediate result was that she was suspected of adultery, and her husband-to-be was ready to divorce her. He was restrained by a direct revelation, when God spoke to him in a dream, but in the meantime don't you think this was a painful experience for Mary? Who would have believed her story? And then, even after Joseph was convinced, what about the others who knew? They still thought she had been guilty of unfaithfulness.
Mary's life, like Paul's, was completely rearranged by God's call. No doubt, at first, she thought she was giving birth to the One who was going to deliver the nation from Roman rule. But it hadn't turned out that way. In addition to being widowed at a fairly early age (Joseph is not around any more during Jesus' public ministry), she had to watch her Son, who had been born miraculously to her as a virgin, be rejected by the nation and then suffer a horrible death. It's easy to read these stories year after year and lose sight of the fact that these people had to live through these experiences by faith, without knowing how it was all going to turn out. In responding to the gospel's offer of grace and mercy, we also accept God's call on our lives, the God who has the right to interrupt all our carefully laid plans, the God who often redirects our lives in ways we never would have planned for ourselves.
Notice, second, that there's a direct connection between Paul's obedience and his suffering. We don't want to lose sight of this, because suffering too easily takes us by surprise and throws us into confusion. We naturally wonder what we've done wrong to end up in this condition. Is God displeased with us? Is He punishing us? Have we taken a wrong turn somewhere? Peter knew of this danger, so he wrote these words to Christians who were suffering: "Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you are sharing Christ's sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed" (1 Peter 4:12-13).
Suffering is not just something that we bear with because it's inevitable. Because Jesus suffered, suffering can be redemptive. Because we are united with Jesus as part of His body, He invites us to enter into communion with Him in His suffering on behalf of the Church. Paul says: "I am now rejoicing in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church" (Colossians 1:24).
In this society, that sees suffering as an unmitigated evil, something that should be avoided at all costs (even to the extent of forcing doctors to give a lethal injection to those who are in great pain), we need to remind ourselves of this. Pope John Paul II, in the last years of his life, saw suffering as part of his vocation, part of his calling as the universal pastor of the Catholic Church. He had been a physically strong person. He loved the outdoors and worked at a pace that exhausted those around him. But then his health had begun to decline. He was in constant pain, and Parkinson's disease made his body uncooperative. I suspect most of us would have concluded that it was time to retire and let someone else take over. But he believed that he was called to follow Jesus in the way of the cross, and he has provided us with a great example of patience and grace in direct contrast to this society that wants to flee suffering at all costs. There was a direct connection between obedience and suffering for the apostle Paul, and also for Pope John Paul II; we need to know that this can also be the case for us.
The third thing is that Paul isn't disappointed in God because he understands that God's focus is larger than the present moment; God is at work preparing him for the life of eternity: "But I am not ashamed, for I know the one in whom I have put my trust, and I am sure that he is able to guard until that day what I have entrusted to him." Paul isn't disappointed in God's care for him, first of all because he knows God. It's not just that he knows certain things about God. That would be helpful, but it wouldn't be enough. Paul is saying I know Him: "I know the one in whom I have put my trust." The KJV and NIV read, "I know whom I have believed," but the NRSV is probably clearer in this context: "I know the one in whom I have put my trust." Paul has not only believed in the truth, he has placed his trust in God. Because he both knows the truth about God and also knows Him, Paul is confident: "I am sure [or, I am convinced] that he is able, that He has all the power necessary to care for me until that day when I arrive safely in His presence."
In looking beyond the present moment, Paul is following Jesus. The author of Hebrews is writing to Christians who are suffering for the gospel, but they've grown weary. They've lost their sense of perspective and are being severely tempted to turn back. So he reminds them, in chapter 11, of all the great saints in the past who've suffered in the path of obedience, and then, at the beginning of chapter 12, he says: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such hostility against himself from sinners, so that you may not grow weary or lose heart" (12:1-3). Jesus disregarded the shame of the cross, because He was looking ahead to what lay on the other side of the crucifixion.
These things are true, not only for people like the apostle Paul; they're also true for us. Suffering is part of this life, for Christians as well as non-Christians. But there's also suffering that comes to us because we belong to Jesus Christ and because we're committed to following Him. Much that's in the New Testament is written to encourage believers who were suffering for the gospel. These verses can help prepare us to endure suffering as disciples of Jesus Christ, rather than becoming bitter and disillusioned. We'd do well to meditate on these three things: 1) Our lives are not our own. We've been bought with a price, and God has the right to rearrange our lives according to His purposes. When we see what God has done for us, the natural response is to offer ourselves to Him in gratitude. 2) There is often a direct connection between obedience and suffering. When we draw back from the path of obedience because we see that it might lead to suffering, we're endangering our souls and the souls of those around us. We're refusing to follow Jesus in the way of the cross; we're saying, in effect, "I'm glad you suffered for us, but you're asking too much if you expect me to suffer for you." 3) God is looking beyond this present moment, preparing us for the life of eternity. If we know Him and are continuing to cultivate His presence, we'll be better able to trust Him when things are going wrong in our lives. He has indescribably good things planned for us and is going to wipe away all the tears from our eyes, and the sorrows of this life will be a thing of the past.
About 50-60 years after Paul wrote this letter, Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch, was on his way to Rome to be executed. He wrote seven letters on his journey, some of the earliest Christian writings outside the New Testament. Here's something he wrote to the church in Rome, anticipating his arrival there: "From Syria all the way to Rome I am fighting with wild beasts, on land and sea, by night and day, chained amidst ten leopards (that is, a company of soldiers) who only get worse when they are well treated. Yet because of their mistreatment I am becoming more of a disciple.... Fire and cross and battles with wild beasts, mutilation, mangling, wrenching of bones, the hacking of limbs, the crushing of my whole body, cruel tortures of the devil – let these come upon me, only let me reach Jesus Christ! Neither the ends of the earth nor the kingdoms of this age are of any use to me. It is better for me to die for Jesus Christ than to rule over the ends of the earth. Him I seek, who died on our behalf; him I long for, who rose again for our sake" ("The Letters of Ignatius," Romans 5-6). May God give us grace, whatever happens in our lives, to say: "It is better for me to die for Jesus Christ than to rule over the ends of the earth. Him I seek, who died on our behalf; him I long for, who rose again for our sake." If we know God and are seeking to live under His lordship, He'll enable us to say with Paul: "But I am not ashamed, for I know the one in whom I have put my trust, and I am sure that he is able to guard until that day what I have entrusted to him."
I suspect, at times, that he's felt the temptation to be disappointed in God. Is this the way God cares for His servants? Once, when St. Theresa of Avila was on a journey, she was sick and one thing after another had gone wrong. Finally, she reached the end of her rope and cried out: "‘Lord, amid so many ills this comes on top of all the rest!' The voice answered her: ‘That is how I treat my friends.'" And then she replied: "Ah my God! That is why you have so few of them!" (quoted by Martin Thornton, in Christian Proficiency, p. 95). I suspect Paul has felt the same temptation. Why isn't God taking better care of him? Why is he wasting away in prison when he could be doing so much good on the outside?
These two things are often difficult to reconcile: God cares for us and has promised to provide for our needs; and God very often doesn't do what we want Him to do, or even what we think we need. I often think about Mary, having to travel to Bethlehem at the end of her pregnancy (without the comfort of modern transportation). I suspect she was tempted to ask: "why now? Couldn't this trip have been made earlier, when I wasn't ready to deliver my baby?" And then, arriving in Bethlehem and being turned down by one place after another. How did she feel when they finally had to settle for a stable? She had experienced, in her body, the most extraordinary miracle in the history of the world. Surely God was with her; she was carrying the Second Person of the Trinity in her womb. So why didn't He provide a better place for her to give birth?
Paul is suffering as he writes 2 Timothy, and it will become apparent later in the letter that he is near the end of his life. He's soon going to be executed by the Roman government, this man who not too many years before had been a gifted, promising young Pharisee. But he doesn't say, "oh no, I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere; there must be some mistake." He says: "For this gospel I was appointed a herald and an apostle and a teacher, and for this reason I suffer as I do." His suffering is a direct result of his faithfulness to God's call. And he goes on: "But I am not ashamed, for I know the one in whom I have put my trust...." His suffering is not a cause for shame, because he knows God and is confident that He will be faithful, that God will care for him until he arrives safely in the Kingdom of Heaven. Whatever may be going on in our lives right now, God will not disappoint us in the end. He is faithful and powerful, and we can trust Him to care for us.
Notice, first, that Paul's life has been completely rearranged by God's call. He didn't choose his career as an apostle by weighing his options and deciding on the most promising profession. He had already chosen his profession in becoming a Pharisee, but then God had interrupted his plans. Jesus had appeared to him on the road to Damascus, where he was going to arrest Christians, and he had been temporarily blinded. Then Ananias, a believer in Damascus, had been sent to pray for him to receive his sight back. This is what the Lord said to Ananias: "Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name" (Acts 9:15-16). Jesus didn't sit down and make a deal with Paul. He called him: "he is an instrument whom I have chosen." Because of who He is, He has the right to interrupt our plans and rearrange our lives.
Think about this in the light of how we often promote our churches: "We've got what you are looking for, come get it" (quoted by William H. Willimon, "It's Hard to be Seeker-Sensitive When You Work for Jesus"). I want to say, when I hear this sort of thing, "are you sure?" Is this what Paul was looking for: "I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name"? The gospel is unspeakably precious, but not because it gives us what we're looking for. We're often looking for the wrong things anyway. The gospel isn't just an offer, like other offers we receive in the marketplace. The gospel is God's call, and His provision, for us to be reconciled to Him. And in responding to the gospel's offer of grace and mercy, we also accept God's call on our lives, the God who has the right to interrupt all our carefully laid plans, the God who often redirects our lives in ways we never would have planned for ourselves.
Mary was chosen to give birth to the Son of God, and she responded to God's call with faith and submission: "Behold, the handmaid of the Lord; let it be done to me according to your word." The immediate result was that she was suspected of adultery, and her husband-to-be was ready to divorce her. He was restrained by a direct revelation, when God spoke to him in a dream, but in the meantime don't you think this was a painful experience for Mary? Who would have believed her story? And then, even after Joseph was convinced, what about the others who knew? They still thought she had been guilty of unfaithfulness.
Mary's life, like Paul's, was completely rearranged by God's call. No doubt, at first, she thought she was giving birth to the One who was going to deliver the nation from Roman rule. But it hadn't turned out that way. In addition to being widowed at a fairly early age (Joseph is not around any more during Jesus' public ministry), she had to watch her Son, who had been born miraculously to her as a virgin, be rejected by the nation and then suffer a horrible death. It's easy to read these stories year after year and lose sight of the fact that these people had to live through these experiences by faith, without knowing how it was all going to turn out. In responding to the gospel's offer of grace and mercy, we also accept God's call on our lives, the God who has the right to interrupt all our carefully laid plans, the God who often redirects our lives in ways we never would have planned for ourselves.
Notice, second, that there's a direct connection between Paul's obedience and his suffering. We don't want to lose sight of this, because suffering too easily takes us by surprise and throws us into confusion. We naturally wonder what we've done wrong to end up in this condition. Is God displeased with us? Is He punishing us? Have we taken a wrong turn somewhere? Peter knew of this danger, so he wrote these words to Christians who were suffering: "Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you are sharing Christ's sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed" (1 Peter 4:12-13).
Suffering is not just something that we bear with because it's inevitable. Because Jesus suffered, suffering can be redemptive. Because we are united with Jesus as part of His body, He invites us to enter into communion with Him in His suffering on behalf of the Church. Paul says: "I am now rejoicing in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church" (Colossians 1:24).
In this society, that sees suffering as an unmitigated evil, something that should be avoided at all costs (even to the extent of forcing doctors to give a lethal injection to those who are in great pain), we need to remind ourselves of this. Pope John Paul II, in the last years of his life, saw suffering as part of his vocation, part of his calling as the universal pastor of the Catholic Church. He had been a physically strong person. He loved the outdoors and worked at a pace that exhausted those around him. But then his health had begun to decline. He was in constant pain, and Parkinson's disease made his body uncooperative. I suspect most of us would have concluded that it was time to retire and let someone else take over. But he believed that he was called to follow Jesus in the way of the cross, and he has provided us with a great example of patience and grace in direct contrast to this society that wants to flee suffering at all costs. There was a direct connection between obedience and suffering for the apostle Paul, and also for Pope John Paul II; we need to know that this can also be the case for us.
The third thing is that Paul isn't disappointed in God because he understands that God's focus is larger than the present moment; God is at work preparing him for the life of eternity: "But I am not ashamed, for I know the one in whom I have put my trust, and I am sure that he is able to guard until that day what I have entrusted to him." Paul isn't disappointed in God's care for him, first of all because he knows God. It's not just that he knows certain things about God. That would be helpful, but it wouldn't be enough. Paul is saying I know Him: "I know the one in whom I have put my trust." The KJV and NIV read, "I know whom I have believed," but the NRSV is probably clearer in this context: "I know the one in whom I have put my trust." Paul has not only believed in the truth, he has placed his trust in God. Because he both knows the truth about God and also knows Him, Paul is confident: "I am sure [or, I am convinced] that he is able, that He has all the power necessary to care for me until that day when I arrive safely in His presence."
In looking beyond the present moment, Paul is following Jesus. The author of Hebrews is writing to Christians who are suffering for the gospel, but they've grown weary. They've lost their sense of perspective and are being severely tempted to turn back. So he reminds them, in chapter 11, of all the great saints in the past who've suffered in the path of obedience, and then, at the beginning of chapter 12, he says: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such hostility against himself from sinners, so that you may not grow weary or lose heart" (12:1-3). Jesus disregarded the shame of the cross, because He was looking ahead to what lay on the other side of the crucifixion.
These things are true, not only for people like the apostle Paul; they're also true for us. Suffering is part of this life, for Christians as well as non-Christians. But there's also suffering that comes to us because we belong to Jesus Christ and because we're committed to following Him. Much that's in the New Testament is written to encourage believers who were suffering for the gospel. These verses can help prepare us to endure suffering as disciples of Jesus Christ, rather than becoming bitter and disillusioned. We'd do well to meditate on these three things: 1) Our lives are not our own. We've been bought with a price, and God has the right to rearrange our lives according to His purposes. When we see what God has done for us, the natural response is to offer ourselves to Him in gratitude. 2) There is often a direct connection between obedience and suffering. When we draw back from the path of obedience because we see that it might lead to suffering, we're endangering our souls and the souls of those around us. We're refusing to follow Jesus in the way of the cross; we're saying, in effect, "I'm glad you suffered for us, but you're asking too much if you expect me to suffer for you." 3) God is looking beyond this present moment, preparing us for the life of eternity. If we know Him and are continuing to cultivate His presence, we'll be better able to trust Him when things are going wrong in our lives. He has indescribably good things planned for us and is going to wipe away all the tears from our eyes, and the sorrows of this life will be a thing of the past.
About 50-60 years after Paul wrote this letter, Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch, was on his way to Rome to be executed. He wrote seven letters on his journey, some of the earliest Christian writings outside the New Testament. Here's something he wrote to the church in Rome, anticipating his arrival there: "From Syria all the way to Rome I am fighting with wild beasts, on land and sea, by night and day, chained amidst ten leopards (that is, a company of soldiers) who only get worse when they are well treated. Yet because of their mistreatment I am becoming more of a disciple.... Fire and cross and battles with wild beasts, mutilation, mangling, wrenching of bones, the hacking of limbs, the crushing of my whole body, cruel tortures of the devil – let these come upon me, only let me reach Jesus Christ! Neither the ends of the earth nor the kingdoms of this age are of any use to me. It is better for me to die for Jesus Christ than to rule over the ends of the earth. Him I seek, who died on our behalf; him I long for, who rose again for our sake" ("The Letters of Ignatius," Romans 5-6). May God give us grace, whatever happens in our lives, to say: "It is better for me to die for Jesus Christ than to rule over the ends of the earth. Him I seek, who died on our behalf; him I long for, who rose again for our sake." If we know God and are seeking to live under His lordship, He'll enable us to say with Paul: "But I am not ashamed, for I know the one in whom I have put my trust, and I am sure that he is able to guard until that day what I have entrusted to him."
Friday, May 4, 2012
The Power of the Gospel, 2 Timothy 1:8-10
Several years ago, I heard a Christian author giving his testimony to a group of kids. Following Jesus, he claimed, had given him a glamorous life. He had not only published popular children's books, he had also made a number of videos. He spent a lot of time in Hollywood, associating with famous people. He was happy and prosperous, all because of his faith in God. The clear implication of his message was, "if you follow Jesus, He'll give you a glamorous, exciting, prosperous life."
A.W. Tozer, writing more than 50 years ago, commented on a similar mind set in the Evangelical churches of his day: "The flaw in current evangelism lies in its humanistic approach. It struggles to be supernaturalistic but never quite makes it. It is frankly fascinated by the great, noisy, aggressive world with its big names, its hero worship, its wealth and its garish pageantry. To the millions of disappointed persons who have always yearned for worldly glory but never attained to it, the modern evangel offers a quick and easy short cut to their heart's desire. Peace of mind, happiness, prosperity, social acceptance, publicity, success in sports, business, the entertainment field, and perchance to sit occasionally at the same banquet table with a celebrity – all this on earth and heaven at last. Certainly no insurance company can offer half as much. In this quasi-Christian scheme of things God becomes the Aladdin lamp who does the bidding of everyone that will accept His Son and sign a card. The total obligation of the sinner is discharged when he accepts Christ. After that he has but to come with his basket and receive the religious equivalent of everything the world offers and enjoy it to the limit. Those who have not accepted Christ must be content with this world, but the Christian gets this one with the one to come thrown in as a bonus" ("The Key to Human Life," in Born After Midnight, p. 22).
This appeal, "come to Jesus; He has just what you're looking for," exists in many forms. The expectations aren't usually as extravagant as those of the author I mentioned. But the claim is that Jesus will give us what we want in this life: success at work, a good marriage, financial security, happiness, emotional stability, ecstatic experiences in worship. The gospel is relevant, from this perspective, because it connects with our felt needs and provides us with a happier life.
But it doesn't seem to be working that way for the apostle Paul. He's writing this letter from prison, and he's following One who, just a few years earlier, was executed by the Roman government. His message to Timothy, in these early verses, is "do not be ashamed." Why? Because, on the surface of things, Timothy is likely to be tempted by shame. In a world that worships power and success, Timothy's mentor is wasting away in prison and His Lord had died in apparent powerlessness and defeat. So, because he knows how easily we become discouraged when things aren't going the way we want them to, Paul reminds Timothy: "do not be ashamed... but join with me in suffering for the gospel."
But Paul isn't just speaking to Timothy. Earlier in his own ministry he had said to the Romans: "I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek" (1:16). The gospel is relevant, not because it gives us what we want. The gospel is relevant in every age because it gives us something we desperately need (although we're unaware of that need much of the time). It's a message that's worth suffering for. It may appear foolish and ineffective from the world's perspective, but it is the power of God for salvation.
So Paul tells Timothy, "don't be intimidated." The value of the gospel can't be measured by the priorities of this world. Those who rejected Jesus will also reject us when we speak in His name. Those who value power and wealth and status will see the gospel as foolishness (or they'll try to twist it into something more consistent with what they want). Paul is saying, "don't be ashamed of this seemingly foolish message, and don't be ashamed of your association with me, a prisoner for the Lord – an apparent failure; be faithful in exercising your spiritual gifts in Jesus' name, and join with me in suffering for the gospel." Then, having given this exhortation, he launches into a brief statement of the gospel, in verses 9& 10.
First, Paul reminds us that the gospel is a message of grace. God doesn't come to us "because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace." As we saw at the beginning of this letter, the word translated "grace" is often translated as "gift." The promise of God comes to us in the form of a gift, which both gives us access into God's presence and begins the process of healing the effects of our lostness. Grace brings us into God's favor and begins transforming us into the image of Jesus Christ. Paul says, in Romans 5, that we are standing in grace. Our whole relationship with God is permeated by a sense of givenness; the promise of life comes to us in the form of a gift which sets us free to become the kind of people God created us to be.
The gospel is not rooted in anything we've done. It's not even rooted, primarily, in our need. God is responding to our neediness and guilt, but it doesn't begin with us at all. It begins with Him, with His own purpose and grace. We need to remind ourselves of this, because as soon as we start talking about God's concern for our needs, we're tempted to take over. We live in a consumer-oriented culture, so we know instinctively how things are supposed to work. Service organizations are there to meet our needs. In fact, they compete with one another to provide us with their services (for a fee, of course). If we're dissatisfied with the service we receive from one company, we shift to another. And there's nothing wrong with this. In dealing with service-oriented businesses, there's a sense in which we are in charge. We're paying for what we receive, and if we aren't happy with the results we can pay someone else.
The danger is that we begin to look at God in this way. We begin to see the Church as a service organization that's there primarily to meet our needs (and it doesn't help that so many churches market themselves in precisely those terms). God has graciously responded to our needs, but we're not in charge. He has saved us – rescued us from our guilt and lostness and alienation. But that's not all He's done. He has also "called us to a holy life." God has called us to become the kind of people He created us to be; He's called us to be transformed into the image of Jesus Christ. The problem is that this process of transformation is difficult and slow, and it's frequently painful. It goes against our natural inclinations. It often means doing without things we want and putting the needs of others first. It means following Jesus in His self-emptying love and bearing with others patiently.
If we're approaching the Church as consumers, as soon as things become difficult or painful, as soon as someone does something that displeases us, we'll want to leave and go somewhere else. "This church isn't meeting my needs; I'll just find one that will." God has graciously responded to our needs, but one of our most desperate needs is to be delivered from our own selfishness. The Church is not a place where we go to have our felt needs met. The Church isn't a place where we go to get something. God has already given us an unspeakably precious gift. The Church is a place where we go to worship God, no matter what is going on in our lives, and where we hear His Word (whether or not it says things we want to hear). And as we worship God and offer ourselves to Him in obedience, over and over for a lifetime, we are transformed into the image of Jesus Christ. God, in His grace, has saved us and called us to live a holy life (whether or not we find that idea appealing). The gospel is a message of grace, and that grace both gives us new life and sets us free to become the people God created us to be.
Second, Paul tells us that the gospel is rooted in a Person. This grace that we receive was "given us in Christ Jesus." We don't receive grace by following a formula, but by coming to Him. A friend told me that several years ago a well-known children's ministry called him and wanted to speak in the church that he pastors. The representative said: "children are more likely to respond to the invitation to receive Jesus as their Savior, then, whatever else happens in their lives, we at least know they are going to heaven because they've been saved." This is the gospel of Jesus Christ reduced to a formula: accept Jesus Christ as your Personal Savior at some point in your life, then you're at least assured of going to heaven.
It's interesting that those who use this formula talk so much about a "personal relationship with Jesus." The truth is that we all, as creatures made in God's image, have a personal relationship with God. Our relationship with Him may be negative: we may be resisting His lordship, or denying that He even exists. But our relationship with Him is personal, because it's impossible to escape the fact that we live in His world as people created in His image. The gospel doesn't offer us a ticket to heaven that we put into our wallets and forget about until we need it. The gospel reconciles us to God. It heals our broken relationship with our Creator. We receive grace "in Christ Jesus," not apart from Him. It's only in coming to Him, and remaining in Him, that we have life. He is the source of our life.
Paul calls Him "Christ": the anointed, chosen One of God, who fulfills all the promises of the Old Testament. All the promises point toward Him, and everything now either looks back on what He did in the past or forward to what He is going to do in the future. But He's not only Christ; He's "Christ Jesus." The promise of life is fulfilled in this particular man, the Son of the Virgin Mary, who grew up in Nazareth, worked for most of his adult life as a carpenter, ministered publicly for three years in first-century Palestine, was crucified under Pontius Pilate and then rose from the dead on the third day. "This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus."
The third thing Paul tells us is that the gospel is a message of life: "Christ Jesus... has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel." Death is the one thing we can't escape, no matter what we do. The best efforts of medical science may lengthen our lives in this world, but we still spend all our days living in the shadow of death. The author of Hebrews reminds his readers: "Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death – that is, the devil – and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death" (2:14-15). Jesus destroyed death by tasting death for us.
The gospel is a message of life to people living under the shadow of death. "Since the appearing of our Savior, nothing could be plainer: death defeated, life vindicated in a steady blaze of light, all through the work of Jesus" (The Message). So many of our efforts to demonstrate that God's Word is relevant for the modern world seem pathetic: "look at all the wonderful gadgets we have; we're really with it; come listen to our great music." Do we really think that the relevance of this message is so difficult for people to grasp? The question isn't whether we are using enough technology in our presentation of the gospel. The question is whether we've tasted the power of this message in our own lives. If we have, then we're able to "testify about our Lord," no matter what our musical preferences are, and whether or not we look like the kind of people who are esteemed in the business and entertainment worlds. And if we haven't tasted the power of this message in our lives, then no amount of technology, no amount of tinkering with our style of presentation, will make up for that lack.
I often think the frantic efforts of contemporary evangelicals to show our relevance to the modern world contradict, in a fundamental way, our identity as the Church of Jesus Christ. We're trying to compete with the business and entertainment worlds on their terms, because we've forgotten who we are. The quest for relevance, in a success-intoxicated society, very quickly leads us away from the truth of the gospel, which is rooted in self-emptying sacrificial love. Listen to these words by Henri Nouwen: "The leader of the future will be the one who dares to claim his irrelevance in the contemporary world as a divine vocation that allows him or her to enter into a deep solidarity with the anguish underlying all the glitter of success and to bring the light of Jesus there" (In the Name of Jesus, p. 22).
The gospel is a message of grace that transforms us into the kind of people we were created to be, that restores us to peace with God and leads us into a growing relationship with Jesus Christ, and that promises unending, abundant life. To people who believe in this message, Paul says: "do not be ashamed to testify about our Lord, or ashamed of me his prisoner. But join with me in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God." This is a message that's worth suffering for. The problem isn't that this message is irrelevant; the problem is that people don't believe it's true (maybe because we don't act like we believe it's true); or, they reject it because it doesn't give them what they want; or, they reject it because they're not willing to be humbled before God as needy sinners who come to Him with empty hands. We're not in charge, and neither are those who come into our churches demanding to have their needs met. The gospel is rooted in God's own purpose and grace. He knows our real needs better than we do, so the place to begin is listening to Him and submitting to His wisdom. In His mercy and grace, He has "destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel." Because this is true, we can say with Paul: "I am not ashamed of the gospel; it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith."
A.W. Tozer, writing more than 50 years ago, commented on a similar mind set in the Evangelical churches of his day: "The flaw in current evangelism lies in its humanistic approach. It struggles to be supernaturalistic but never quite makes it. It is frankly fascinated by the great, noisy, aggressive world with its big names, its hero worship, its wealth and its garish pageantry. To the millions of disappointed persons who have always yearned for worldly glory but never attained to it, the modern evangel offers a quick and easy short cut to their heart's desire. Peace of mind, happiness, prosperity, social acceptance, publicity, success in sports, business, the entertainment field, and perchance to sit occasionally at the same banquet table with a celebrity – all this on earth and heaven at last. Certainly no insurance company can offer half as much. In this quasi-Christian scheme of things God becomes the Aladdin lamp who does the bidding of everyone that will accept His Son and sign a card. The total obligation of the sinner is discharged when he accepts Christ. After that he has but to come with his basket and receive the religious equivalent of everything the world offers and enjoy it to the limit. Those who have not accepted Christ must be content with this world, but the Christian gets this one with the one to come thrown in as a bonus" ("The Key to Human Life," in Born After Midnight, p. 22).
This appeal, "come to Jesus; He has just what you're looking for," exists in many forms. The expectations aren't usually as extravagant as those of the author I mentioned. But the claim is that Jesus will give us what we want in this life: success at work, a good marriage, financial security, happiness, emotional stability, ecstatic experiences in worship. The gospel is relevant, from this perspective, because it connects with our felt needs and provides us with a happier life.
But it doesn't seem to be working that way for the apostle Paul. He's writing this letter from prison, and he's following One who, just a few years earlier, was executed by the Roman government. His message to Timothy, in these early verses, is "do not be ashamed." Why? Because, on the surface of things, Timothy is likely to be tempted by shame. In a world that worships power and success, Timothy's mentor is wasting away in prison and His Lord had died in apparent powerlessness and defeat. So, because he knows how easily we become discouraged when things aren't going the way we want them to, Paul reminds Timothy: "do not be ashamed... but join with me in suffering for the gospel."
But Paul isn't just speaking to Timothy. Earlier in his own ministry he had said to the Romans: "I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek" (1:16). The gospel is relevant, not because it gives us what we want. The gospel is relevant in every age because it gives us something we desperately need (although we're unaware of that need much of the time). It's a message that's worth suffering for. It may appear foolish and ineffective from the world's perspective, but it is the power of God for salvation.
So Paul tells Timothy, "don't be intimidated." The value of the gospel can't be measured by the priorities of this world. Those who rejected Jesus will also reject us when we speak in His name. Those who value power and wealth and status will see the gospel as foolishness (or they'll try to twist it into something more consistent with what they want). Paul is saying, "don't be ashamed of this seemingly foolish message, and don't be ashamed of your association with me, a prisoner for the Lord – an apparent failure; be faithful in exercising your spiritual gifts in Jesus' name, and join with me in suffering for the gospel." Then, having given this exhortation, he launches into a brief statement of the gospel, in verses 9& 10.
First, Paul reminds us that the gospel is a message of grace. God doesn't come to us "because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace." As we saw at the beginning of this letter, the word translated "grace" is often translated as "gift." The promise of God comes to us in the form of a gift, which both gives us access into God's presence and begins the process of healing the effects of our lostness. Grace brings us into God's favor and begins transforming us into the image of Jesus Christ. Paul says, in Romans 5, that we are standing in grace. Our whole relationship with God is permeated by a sense of givenness; the promise of life comes to us in the form of a gift which sets us free to become the kind of people God created us to be.
The gospel is not rooted in anything we've done. It's not even rooted, primarily, in our need. God is responding to our neediness and guilt, but it doesn't begin with us at all. It begins with Him, with His own purpose and grace. We need to remind ourselves of this, because as soon as we start talking about God's concern for our needs, we're tempted to take over. We live in a consumer-oriented culture, so we know instinctively how things are supposed to work. Service organizations are there to meet our needs. In fact, they compete with one another to provide us with their services (for a fee, of course). If we're dissatisfied with the service we receive from one company, we shift to another. And there's nothing wrong with this. In dealing with service-oriented businesses, there's a sense in which we are in charge. We're paying for what we receive, and if we aren't happy with the results we can pay someone else.
The danger is that we begin to look at God in this way. We begin to see the Church as a service organization that's there primarily to meet our needs (and it doesn't help that so many churches market themselves in precisely those terms). God has graciously responded to our needs, but we're not in charge. He has saved us – rescued us from our guilt and lostness and alienation. But that's not all He's done. He has also "called us to a holy life." God has called us to become the kind of people He created us to be; He's called us to be transformed into the image of Jesus Christ. The problem is that this process of transformation is difficult and slow, and it's frequently painful. It goes against our natural inclinations. It often means doing without things we want and putting the needs of others first. It means following Jesus in His self-emptying love and bearing with others patiently.
If we're approaching the Church as consumers, as soon as things become difficult or painful, as soon as someone does something that displeases us, we'll want to leave and go somewhere else. "This church isn't meeting my needs; I'll just find one that will." God has graciously responded to our needs, but one of our most desperate needs is to be delivered from our own selfishness. The Church is not a place where we go to have our felt needs met. The Church isn't a place where we go to get something. God has already given us an unspeakably precious gift. The Church is a place where we go to worship God, no matter what is going on in our lives, and where we hear His Word (whether or not it says things we want to hear). And as we worship God and offer ourselves to Him in obedience, over and over for a lifetime, we are transformed into the image of Jesus Christ. God, in His grace, has saved us and called us to live a holy life (whether or not we find that idea appealing). The gospel is a message of grace, and that grace both gives us new life and sets us free to become the people God created us to be.
Second, Paul tells us that the gospel is rooted in a Person. This grace that we receive was "given us in Christ Jesus." We don't receive grace by following a formula, but by coming to Him. A friend told me that several years ago a well-known children's ministry called him and wanted to speak in the church that he pastors. The representative said: "children are more likely to respond to the invitation to receive Jesus as their Savior, then, whatever else happens in their lives, we at least know they are going to heaven because they've been saved." This is the gospel of Jesus Christ reduced to a formula: accept Jesus Christ as your Personal Savior at some point in your life, then you're at least assured of going to heaven.
It's interesting that those who use this formula talk so much about a "personal relationship with Jesus." The truth is that we all, as creatures made in God's image, have a personal relationship with God. Our relationship with Him may be negative: we may be resisting His lordship, or denying that He even exists. But our relationship with Him is personal, because it's impossible to escape the fact that we live in His world as people created in His image. The gospel doesn't offer us a ticket to heaven that we put into our wallets and forget about until we need it. The gospel reconciles us to God. It heals our broken relationship with our Creator. We receive grace "in Christ Jesus," not apart from Him. It's only in coming to Him, and remaining in Him, that we have life. He is the source of our life.
Paul calls Him "Christ": the anointed, chosen One of God, who fulfills all the promises of the Old Testament. All the promises point toward Him, and everything now either looks back on what He did in the past or forward to what He is going to do in the future. But He's not only Christ; He's "Christ Jesus." The promise of life is fulfilled in this particular man, the Son of the Virgin Mary, who grew up in Nazareth, worked for most of his adult life as a carpenter, ministered publicly for three years in first-century Palestine, was crucified under Pontius Pilate and then rose from the dead on the third day. "This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus."
The third thing Paul tells us is that the gospel is a message of life: "Christ Jesus... has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel." Death is the one thing we can't escape, no matter what we do. The best efforts of medical science may lengthen our lives in this world, but we still spend all our days living in the shadow of death. The author of Hebrews reminds his readers: "Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death – that is, the devil – and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death" (2:14-15). Jesus destroyed death by tasting death for us.
The gospel is a message of life to people living under the shadow of death. "Since the appearing of our Savior, nothing could be plainer: death defeated, life vindicated in a steady blaze of light, all through the work of Jesus" (The Message). So many of our efforts to demonstrate that God's Word is relevant for the modern world seem pathetic: "look at all the wonderful gadgets we have; we're really with it; come listen to our great music." Do we really think that the relevance of this message is so difficult for people to grasp? The question isn't whether we are using enough technology in our presentation of the gospel. The question is whether we've tasted the power of this message in our own lives. If we have, then we're able to "testify about our Lord," no matter what our musical preferences are, and whether or not we look like the kind of people who are esteemed in the business and entertainment worlds. And if we haven't tasted the power of this message in our lives, then no amount of technology, no amount of tinkering with our style of presentation, will make up for that lack.
I often think the frantic efforts of contemporary evangelicals to show our relevance to the modern world contradict, in a fundamental way, our identity as the Church of Jesus Christ. We're trying to compete with the business and entertainment worlds on their terms, because we've forgotten who we are. The quest for relevance, in a success-intoxicated society, very quickly leads us away from the truth of the gospel, which is rooted in self-emptying sacrificial love. Listen to these words by Henri Nouwen: "The leader of the future will be the one who dares to claim his irrelevance in the contemporary world as a divine vocation that allows him or her to enter into a deep solidarity with the anguish underlying all the glitter of success and to bring the light of Jesus there" (In the Name of Jesus, p. 22).
The gospel is a message of grace that transforms us into the kind of people we were created to be, that restores us to peace with God and leads us into a growing relationship with Jesus Christ, and that promises unending, abundant life. To people who believe in this message, Paul says: "do not be ashamed to testify about our Lord, or ashamed of me his prisoner. But join with me in suffering for the gospel, relying on the power of God." This is a message that's worth suffering for. The problem isn't that this message is irrelevant; the problem is that people don't believe it's true (maybe because we don't act like we believe it's true); or, they reject it because it doesn't give them what they want; or, they reject it because they're not willing to be humbled before God as needy sinners who come to Him with empty hands. We're not in charge, and neither are those who come into our churches demanding to have their needs met. The gospel is rooted in God's own purpose and grace. He knows our real needs better than we do, so the place to begin is listening to Him and submitting to His wisdom. In His mercy and grace, He has "destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel." Because this is true, we can say with Paul: "I am not ashamed of the gospel; it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith."
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