One of the most crucial questions any generation can ask is the question of security.  How can I protect myself?  How can I maintain my personal rights?

These aren’t bad questions.  A free and just society serves the interest of its citizens, which includes defending their personal rights.  But scripture never guarantees that we’ll find such justice and security in the here and now.

Where does that leave us?  For some of us, it leaves us clinging to the hope that somehow, someway, we can secure ourselves.  And the things that make us feel secure therefore become our idols: relationships, career—even the conceal-carry permit that grants us the feeling of protection against those who might seek our life.  None of these things are bad.  In fact, as we noted earlier in our series, some of these things might even be a legitimate source of “immediate hope.” It’s just that when we turn these things into a source of “ultimate hope” we are effectively telling God that our comfort, our security lies elsewhere.

In 1 Peter, the early Christians were facing a similar set of questions.  Let’s remember that at the time that Peter was writing, the government had yet to enact a full-on assault on Christianity.  Instead, believers struggled to follow Christ in a world that saw such belief as weird or even shameful.  In his study of 1 Peter, Frank Thielman tells us:

“Peter is writing to people suffering the plight of ‘aliens and strangers.’  Conversion to Christianity has separated them from their traditional ways of life and placed them on the margins of their societies.  Like literal exiles, they need consolation…They need a mental map on which they can place their suffering in order both to make sense of it and to move beyond it….[1]

Their options were limited.  What could they do?

REALIGN YOUR LOVES

Peter has a clear piece of advice: “arm yourselves:”

Since therefore Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the same way of thinking, for whoever has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin, 2 so as to live for the rest of the time in the flesh no longer for human passions but for the will of God. 3 For the time that is past suffices for doing what the Gentiles want to do, living in sensuality, passions, drunkenness, orgies, drinking parties, and lawless idolatry. (1 Peter 4:1-3)

This is a great paradox: we are called to “arm [ourselves]”—but not with power but with vulnerability.  It’s as if Peter is saying that the greatest weapon against the greatest of our enemies—sin and death—is the cross.  Security lies not in strength but in weakness.

Why would this matter for issues of morality?  In verse 2 Peter anchors human behavior in the language of “human passions.”  The issue at hand is a simple one: what do you love?  Our hearts follow our loves—whether for good or for ill.  Peter is telling us that left to our own devices, our hearts end up in the frat house with all its “drunkenness” and “debauchery.”

In many cases, we can imagine how some Christians allow themselves to slide into morality because, let’s face it, certain behaviors might have a powerful pull on our desires.  If they didn’t, the entire advertising industry would collapse.  But in other cases, the pull doesn’t come from the desire itself, but from the community that surrounds you.  When your friends, coworkers, classmates are all clamoring to—as just one example—go see a movie containing nudity and coarse humor, you choose to ignore your conscience and attend.  Why?  Because social comfort can be purchased through social conformity.

Let me be very clear on this point.  Graceless religion tells us that certain things are “good” and certain things are “bad.”  If you engage in something “bad,” you become bad.  The gospel doesn’t deny the existence of moral absolutes, but the gospel approaches the issue through the lens of love.  After all, Peter is concerned with “human passion” here.  The gospel says that you will never flourish unless God is your first and most cherished love.  When Jesus consumes your mind and consumes your heart, then things that don’t align with his character become less significant.

Maybe an analogy would help.  When you’re on a diet, the beginning is always the hardest.  Everything looks delicious.  You begin having impure thoughts over the Wendy’s commercial.  But give it time (maybe even a lot of time!) and your tastes will begin to follow your habits.  So much so that cheating on your diet won’t seem as fun—and even if it is you might later find yourself missing your whole grains.

Ah, says the gospel.  Following Jesus is like that.  The things that Peter lists here might seem appetizing at times.  Maybe even following the crowd offers us a sense of security and comfort.  But if we turn our eyes upon Jesus, look full at his wonderful face, then the things of this world grow strangely dim, in the light of his marvelous grace.

Now, a point of clarification is surely needed, here.  When Peter says that this change in attitude enables us to “cease from sin,” I think he means that we cease to be enslaved by it.  All believers will stumble as part of their walk—even Paul seems to have had this experience at times.  But what we can be assured by is that by focusing on Jesus our desire for him grows even as our desire to serve self shrinks.

JUSTICE IS COMING

So what hope is there?  Peter writes:

4 With respect to this they are surprised when you do not join them in the same flood of debauchery, and they malign you; 5 but they will give account to him who is ready to judge the living and the dead. 6 For this is why the gospel was preached even to those who are dead, that though judged in the flesh the way people are, they might live in the spirit the way God does. (1 Peter 4:4-6)

Peter acknowledges that a different lifestyle can result in ridicule.  But don’t lose hope, Peter tells us.  Justice is coming.

Peter’s emphasis on God’s future is a major thread throughout the book of 1 Peter.  Here, he seems to use it as a source of comfort.  First, that those who are wrong will received final justice in the end.  But second, that the gospel is effective.

This leads us to the confusion of verse 6.  What does it mean that “the gospel was preached even to those who are dead?”  Some have taken this to mean that Jesus somehow descended to Hell to offer the dead a second chance.  But nowhere else in Scripture do we find such an idea, so this idea seems pretty flimsy.  It might be merely a metaphor, referring to those who are spiritually dead.  This is more helpful, but if you think about it, it’s not that helpful for those struggling with social pressures and persecution.  In his study of 1 Peter, Wayne Grudem takes note of the past tense here.  He says that Peter must be referring to those that heard the gospel when they were alive, but have since died.  This is Peter’s way of answering the obvious question: “What happens if they kill us?”  And the answer, Peter says, is that they are transformed into life.  It’s like my friend Jared likes to say: “Cheer up; the worst they can do is kill us.”

As Christians, then, we “open carry” the cross—we arm ourselves with vulnerability and weakness, because those values are at the center of God’s plan to bring life to the dead and hope to the hopeless.

[1] Thielman, 583.

Finally, Peter turns his attention to the subject of marriage:

Likewise, wives, be subject to your own husbands, so that even if some do not obey the word, they may be won without a word by the conduct of their wives, 2 when they see your respectful and pure conduct. 3 Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— 4 but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious. 5 For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves, by submitting to their own husbands, 6 as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord. And you are her children, if you do good and do not fear anything that is frightening. (1 Peter 3:1-6)

Like yesterday’s passage on slavery, here’s another example of where we need to wrap out heads around some cultural issues.  But as much as we might initially recoil from this kind of language as an outdated throwback to a Leave-it-to-Beaver-style America, Peter’s instructions here were actually quite counter-cultural.   In the ancient world, the man’s religion dominated the household.  But Peter is saying: Look, ladies—you have an opportunity to witness to your unbelieving husbands.  And that was huge in that society.  So let’s not miss just how culturally progressive this passage is.

Second, we might be challenged by the admonition against adornment.  I can imagine that contemporary feminism might cringe at the thought of a man like Peter telling women what they should or should not wear.  Why can’t women just be themselves?  But this, too, misses the point unless we consider the cultural setting.  An ancient historian lamented that when women “see that they have nothing else but only to be the bedfellows of men, they begin to beautify themselves, and put all their hopes in that.” [1]  In other words, women in the ancient world were valued for their looks—how “sexy” they were—and nothing more.  Thank goodness we don’t live in a world like that anymore, right?  If you missed my sarcasm, consider the way that even recent celebrities and trends have pushed against the superficial and artificial world we find in magazine ads and supermodels.  Actress Kate Winslet, for instance, recently made waves by insisting her photos for Elle magazine be published with “no retouching.” [2] This kind of thing can be ennobling to women.  Peter is saying something quite similar: that in a world that measures women by superficial standards, women can demonstrate their value through their character.

ASYMMETRY AND SUBMISSION

Christianity has traditionally emphasized two things about gender: that both men and women are made in the image of God (Genesis 1:26) and that men and women reflect this image in different ways.  We therefore can say that in men and women, we find equality but also a sense of asymmetry. And because of this asymmetry, women and men interact differently within the context of marriage.

In recent years, we’ve begun to see this asymmetry as something negative or even oppressive.  Surely, we’ve assumed, women would be better served in marriages where there was a completely equal distribution of roles and responsibilities.  A pair of researchers from the University of Virginia put this theory to the test.  Their results were published under the title: “What’s Love Got to Do with It?”  Their results were surprising:

“[Researchers] find no support for the theory that [completely sharing roles] promotes wife’s marital quality.  It is important for wife’s marital happiness that husband and wife have shared ideas about marriage, that they both commit to the institution of marriage, that they are integrated into an institution (like the church) that also has these same ideas about marriage, and that the marriage and the husbands are emotionally invested in marriage.”[3]

In other words, the message of Peter is not as radically conservative as we might fear.  There remains value in pursuing traditional gender roles, and the way these roles play out in marriage reflects the design of God.

THE ROLE OF HUSBANDS

Peter is saying, then, that Christian wives can be used by God to draw their unbelieving husbands to saving faith in Jesus.  Reflecting the character of Jesus is the highest value and highest purpose of marriage—a purpose also reflected in the love of husbands and their wives:

7 Likewise, husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel, since they are heirs with you of the grace of life, so that your prayers may not be hindered. (1 Peter 3:7)

Men are charged to treat their wives honorably.  Why?  Because, Peter says, they are the “weaker vessel.”  What could this possibly mean?   Naturally we recognize that there are many areas in which men are (generally) stronger than women.  But we might also recognize a constellation of strengths that women possess that men do not.  So how could Peter dismiss women in such a categorical fashion?  In her commentary on 1 Peter, Karen H. Jobes points out that Peter may very well have been making a sociological evaluation.  In other words, Peter is pointing out that in his culture, women tend to have less value and less worth and less honor than men.  Peter stops short of trying to fully reverse this—though his commandments seek to affirm the value and dignity of women even though the rest of society seems to think them as mere sex objects.  What’s more, Peter affirms their equality by sharing that yes, women are “heirs with you of the grace of life.”

Peter concludes with a statement of purpose: that honoring one’s wife helps us avoid “hindered prayers.”  In his commentary on 1 Peter, Wayne Grudem suggests that we—that is, husbands in particular—should take this very literally:

“So concerned is God that Christian husbands live in an understanding and loving way with their wives that he ‘interrupts’ his relationship with them when they are not doing so. …no husband may expect an effective prayer life unless he lives with his wife ‘in an understanding way, bestowing honor’ on her.  To take the time to develop and maintain a good marriage is God’s will; it is serving God; it is a spiritual activity pleasing in his sight.”[4]

It’s tempting to think that privilege is about social power or about personal worth.  But the message of Christian marriage is that our greatest privilege comes from our love for one another reflecting the love of the Savior.

[1] Epictetus, Encheirodon 40.

[2] http://nymag.com/thecut/2015/10/kate-winslets-loral-contract-no-retouching.html

[3] W. Bradford Wilcox and Steven L. Nock, “What’s Love Got to Do with It?  Equality, Equity, Commitment, and Women’s Marital Quality,” Social Forces 84, no. 3 (March 2006): 1321-45.

[4] Wayne A. Grudem, 1 Peter, p. 154.

Having addressed the need to “be subject” in the world of politics, Peter now turns his focus to another sphere of public life:

18 Servants, be subject to your masters with all respect, not only to the good and gentle but also to the unjust. 19 For this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly. 20 For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. (1 Peter 2:18-20)

Now, if we’re to apply a text like this, we have to wrap our heads around the ancient practice of slavery.  Why would writers like Peter (as well as Paul—Colossians 3:22) claim to love Jesus yet seem to wink at the practice of slavery?  It’s not an easy question to answer, but we must first recognize that slavery in the Roman world was very different from the slavery of America’s recent past.  For starters, we need to recognize just how many slaves there were.  Daniel Wallace of Dallas Theological Seminary estimates that about a third of the first-century Roman population was slaves.^[1]  While many became slaves by being born into it or even through piracy, provisions existed in which people would sell themselves into slavery.  The second-century jurist Florentius spoke of selling oneself into slavery with confidence that you could later be freed.[2]  Other writers defined slavery through decidedly contractual terms—meaning slavery was something like the “indentured servitude” of our recent past.[3]  Yet another writer said that slavery provided him physical necessities (food, clothing, shelter, medical care) that he would not have had otherwise.[4]  Granted, abuses ran rampant; the increasing tension between city and country life in Rome meant that there was a lot of moral ambiguity surrounding the practice.  But—unlike the slavery of the pre-war south—slavery in the ancient world was not anchored in systemic injustice or racial hatred.

So if we recognize this cultural difference, we can apply this text to our jobs, our careers.  This is what Christian writers have historically called “vocation”—the manner by which we fulfill God’s calling by using our gifts, skills, and abilities for some public good.

OCCUPATIONAL IDOLATRY?

Peter, however, seems to recognize that—perhaps owing to injustices within the world of ancient slavery?—there was a need for harmony to exist between “master” and “slave.”  In the same way, there is a need for harmony between employers and employees—even when we feel as though we are receiving unjust treatment at work.

What might this look like?  Well, it might start with repenting from “occupational idolatry”—that is, finding our ultimate worth and value from our careers.

Peter writes:

21 For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. 22 He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. 23 When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly. 24 He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed. 25 For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls. (1 Peter 2:18-25)

Our ultimate source of security and comfort comes not from the approval of our boss or co-workers; it comes from God.  This is why we are able to follow Christ’s example, because we are confident that we don’t need to repay injustice with evil but instead demonstrate humility.

SHOWING LOVE THROUGH VOCATION

One of the key dangers in talking about our jobs in a Christian setting is that we tend to think that there are “secular” jobs and there are Christian ministries—as though these are worlds apart.  Part of Peter’s point—at least when applied to us—is that our character can be a powerful testimony to those around us.  Therefore all jobs can become a ministry, so long as we see our careers as a stage on which we enact the love and character of Jesus.  Nancy Pearcy makes this point in her book Total Truth.  She writes:

“Ordinary Christians working in business, industry, politics, factory work, and so on, are ‘the Church’s front-line troops in her engagement with the world,’ wrote Lesslie Newbigin. Imagine how our churches would be transformed if we truly regarded laypeople as frontline troops in the spiritual battle.”[5]

What about you?  Do you “use” your coworkers by seeking approval and admiration from them?  Or do you love and honor them by performing your job with integrity?  Do you show honor to your employers?  Or do you cut them down when they’re not around?  The gospel promises us that we have God’s approval and we need no one else’s—that true justice comes in Christ’s kingdom and not our own.  Our careers, therefore, become opportunities to demonstrate eternal values rather than sources of a weekly paycheck.

[1] Daniel Wallace, “Some initial reflections on slavery in the New Testament,” appearing online at https://bible.org/article/some-initial-reflections-slavery-new-testament

[2] Florentius, Iustiniani Digesti 40.12.7

[3] Dio Chrysostom

[4] Epictetus, Dissertations, 4.1.37.

[5] Nancy Pearcy, Total Truth

Peter instructs his readers to “be subject” to human authority, beginning with the world of politics:

13 Be subject for the Lord’s sake to every human institution, whether it be to the emperor as supreme, 14 or to governors as sent by him to punish those who do evil and to praise those who do good. 15 For this is the will of God, that by doing good you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish people. 16 Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God. 17 Honor everyone. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the emperor. (1 Peter 2:13-17)

Now, bear in mind that even though Peter wrote his letter before the official persecutions that would come later, there had been at least some localized persecutions that had been sanctioned by the Roman government.  So the instruction to “be subject” to both “the emperor” or his various “governors” must have been a bit abrasive.  Then again, the command to honor our political leaders is still abrasive to us.

How do Christians relate to the world of politics?  On the one hand, God spoke through Jeremiah and commanded his people to “seek the good of the city” of Babylon (Jeremiah 29:7).  On the other hand, Jesus told Pilate that God’s “kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36).  With Peter’s repeated emphasis on resurrection and future hope, what reason might we find for honoring political leaders?

A TALE OF TWO CITIES

Some of you may be familiar with a man named Augustine, who in the early days of the Church famously penned a massive work called The City of God.  In this book, Augustine declared that there are two cities: the City of Man and the City of God.  You might say that Christians possess a sense of dual citizenship: inhabitants of the City of Man, though inheritors of the future City of God, that shall one day descend to earth as a bride adorned for her husband (Revelation 21:2).

But as even Jesus points out, a man cannot serve two masters.  Which city receives our allegiance?  Which city’s values should be our own?

To understand this, let’s get some help from an ancient thinker named Aristotle.  Aristotle lived a few hundred years before Jesus, but it was in Medieval Europe that his ideas would eventually be applied to Christianity.  Aristotle’s ideas enable us to distinguish between an “immediate hope” and an “ultimate hope.”  That is, there are things we trust in for the present—though our trust lies ultimately elsewhere.

Think of it this way: the Bible tells us that God is the “sustainer” of life (Psalm 54:4).  This means that we trust that in every circumstance, he is in control of our destiny.

Amen?

So…why do you wear a seatbelt?  Why do you lock the doors of your home?  Why do you take medicine rather than ask God to remove the illness?

The answer is simple: placing ultimate hope in the authority of God doesn’t prevent me from placing immediate hope in the provisions of man.  In fact, when the people in the city of Thessalonica got confused about the nature of Christ’s return, Paul reminds them of the importance of working hard in the present (2 Thessalonians 3:10—“if you don’t work you don’t eat”).

Applied to the world of politics, we might say that the Christian places his ultimate hope in the resurrection and coming kingdom of God, and places his immediate hope on life in the here and now.

I know this is a bit challenging, but this way of thinking is enormously helpful.  Because the City of God is my ultimate hope, it prevents me from sourly gazing at my TV screen during the election cycle.  And because the City of Man is my immediate hope, it prevents me from dismissing the world of politics as “unspiritual.”

POLITICAL IDOLATRY

Of course, the fact that Peter has to tell his readers to “be subject” and to “honor the emperor” tells us that we seem to have a natural bending toward rejecting authority.  One of the great challenges today is not that we abandon any notion of political honor: it’s that we only selectively honor our leaders—and vilify those we dislike.

When the City of Man ceases to be an immediate hope and becomes an ultimate hope, political idolatry is born.  In his wonderful book Counterfeit Gods, Tim Keller points out that there are three basic warning signs of political idolatry:

• First, our lives become dominated by fear and by anxiety over losing or gaining power in the public sphere. We are constantly on edge about the next political decision and political leader, and the peace of God is far from our hearts.
• Second, when we encounter those who differ from us politically, we see them as not only wrong, but deeply evil. Now, in fairness, there are political positions—on say, abortion—that Christians would label as morally evil.  But rather than love our political adversaries, we’re more likely to engage in name-calling or heated arguments.
• Finally, we tend to see our greatest problem not sin and death, but see our political opponents as our ultimate enemy. “Things would go so much better,” we say, “if the [democrats/republicans] were in charge.”

This matters—not only because all forms of idolatry cause our souls to wither, but because political idolatry can be corrosive to the Christian witness.  When doing research for their book unChristian, David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons found that non-Christians were likely to describe Christians as “too political,” among other things.

This is a tragedy.

So what about you, right now?  This morning you’ve probably already heard the results of the Iowa caucus.  Are you sad?  Angry?  Frustrated?  Elated?  Enthusiastic?  Are you hitting the “share” button on political memes mocking your opponents?   Are you lamenting that “it’s over?”  Some of these reactions reflect an abiding concern for the City of Man—and this is a just and right response in preserving our immediate hope.  But ask yourself: is this dominating my attention and my thoughts?  Are my children seeing me express a trust in the City of God, or do they see my concern resting on the City of Man?  Where is my ultimate hope—my ultimate source of security and confidence?  Does it come from the world of the Bible, or from the electoral college?  The cross, or my conceal-carry permit?

God is in control.  One day his eternal city will come, and all will be set right.  Until then, we say Maranatha—come quickly, Lord Jesus.

Is Christianity good or bad for society?  It really wasn’t that long ago that the public square resonated with injunctions toward “tolerance.”  Now these conversations have been replaced by the language of power and privilege.  Christianity, it’s been assumed, has held too much power for too long.  All religions contain positive elements just as all religions are stained by hypocrisy and social evils.  So why elevate Christianity to a position of cultural privilege?  For example, in April of 2015, Frank Bruni wrote a piece for The New York Times in which he described “Biblical interpretation”—specifically in regard to human sexuality—as “debatable.”  But, wrote Bruni, “beliefs ossified over time aren’t easily shaken.”  His solution?  He joins his voice with a political advocacy group, saying that Christians “must be made” to change their minds with regard to their views on marriage and family.[1]  Not “must be encouraged;” not “must be encouraged.”  No; Christians “must be made.”

Christians have wrongly assumed that their faith has been pushed to the margins of human society.  This is no longer the case.  Now, Christianity is being brought into the public square—not for the purpose of dialogue but for a public flogging.  Christianity is the problem, we’re repeatedly told, not the solution.

Peter seems to have been experiencing something very similar to this in his own day.  He writes:

11 Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul. 12 Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day of visitation. (1 Peter 2:11-12)

Peter sees Christianity as having the potential for a positive impact on the world around him.  This meant two things.  First, it meant that Christians demonstrate character by not being ruled by earthly passions, and secondly, it meant that Christians demonstrate character through “honorable living.”  Why?  Look at the text: the phrase “so that” tells us his purpose.  Christian character testifies that the gospel is not simply true—though it is—but that it also is good.

Peter unpacks this command toward ethical character with a series of commands—or, more accurately, one command that he applies to three different spheres of life.  “Be subject,” he says—and he repeats this command in the world of (1) poltics (2:13-17), (2) vocation/career (2:18-25), and (3) marriage (3:1-7).  We’ll unpack each of those areas as we move forward this week.  But first we have to understand the relationship between Christian hope and Christian character.

Earlier in his letter, Peter unpacks the gospel this way:

3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 4 to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, 5 who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.  (1 Peter 1:3-5)

What serves as the basis for Peter’s faith?  It is the “living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ.”  The resurrection is a sure thing; it really historically happened.  Without it—well, without it we’re left to vague spiritual language and wishful speculation.  But because Christ literally rose from the dead, because he promises us “an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading,” this changes our outlook.  How?

First, the resurrection of Christ tells us that if we compare religions based on their impact on society, we’re asking the wrong question.  The issue is not: “Which religion offers the greatest social benefit?”  The issue is not even “Which religion has caused the least amount of violence?”  These kinds of questions may dominate the talking heads of nightly news; they may generate venom in social media debates.  But they are the wrong kinds of question. The issue is not primarily about which religion is “good,” but about which religion is true.

Secondly, there are commands in scripture that we may find culturally backward or even morally offensive.  The idea that I am to “be subject”—that is, to revere and obey authority—runs counter to my treasured value of personal freedom.  Such demands are difficult.  But again, the question for us is not: “Do I find Christianity culturally sensitive?   Do I find Jesus’ commands easy or hard?”  The question is: “Did Jesus rise from the dead?”  Because if the answer to that question is “yes,” then my objections don’t matter—or at least they don’t change the nature of Christ’s demands.  Instead, they press me to consider faith as an all-or-nothing venture.  I can’t selectively follow Jesus based on which commands seem best to me; I must devote myself to following Jesus because he has demonstrated victory over sin and death and invites me to share in that victory through daily living.

Such self-denial would seem almost cruel unless we consider the broader landscape of eternity.  If this life is all we’re given, then living for myself seems my best shot at being fulfilled.  But because the gospel provides us a grander vision of God’s eternal kingdom—coming at Christ’s return—then the surrender of my freedom for this paradise is less a burden than a bargain.

This week, we’ll look at how these kingdom values take shape on the stages of politics, career, and marriage.

[1] Frank Bruni, “Bigotry, the Bible, and the Lessons of Indiana.”  The New York Times, April 3, 2015.  http://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/05/opinion/sunday/frank-bruni-same-sex-sinners.html

Things have come a long way since Atari.  In 2012, a 23-year-old man collapsed in an internet café in Taiwan while playing video games.  The other gamers were too engrossed in their online fantasy worlds to notice.  His death went unnoticed for 10 hours.[1]

The opposite of certainty isn’t doubt; it’s fantasy.  The human mind seems uniquely wired to find meaning amidst shattered pieces.  In Douglas Coupland’s novel Generation X, one of the characters laments that “either our lives become stories, or there’s just no way to get through them.”[2]  But—as our gamer friend teaches us—if we live for the wrong story, we may find ourselves as dead men.

Peter begins his letter with a magnificent description of the hope of the gospel.  He then draws an application:

13 Therefore, preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. 14 As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, 15 but as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, 16 since it is written, “You shall be holy, for I am holy.”  (1 Peter 1:13-16)

You caught his “therefore?”  The word connects Peter’s thoughts: we have hope, Peter is saying, so let’s live like it.  Look at his three commands:

• Preparing your minds for action
• Being sober-minded
• Set your hope fully on the grace

Peter’s call is a turn away from the fantasy world of idols and toward the certainty of God’s master story.  Peter is deeply concerned for men and women who would be “conformed to the passions of your former ignorance.”

Maybe for you, video games present no temptation.  But there’s a very real chance that you and I can find ourselves being “conformed” to our “passions.”  For some it’s sports; for others it’s career.  Maybe for you it’s the mere approval of others.

Go back and take a look at Peter’s three earlier commands: “preparing minds…being sober-minded…set your hope…”  So much of our spiritual trajectory begins in the mind and extends outward into life.

Yet it isn’t until verse 15 that Peter actually issues his command: “be holy.”  Biblically speaking, the word meant to be “set apart.”  It’s the polar opposite of being “conformed.”  You can conform to society, Peter is saying, or you can be holy.  You cannot be both.

That sounds easy, doesn’t it?  Until you consider that conformity also meant comfort.  Holiness would mean being misunderstood, socially rejected, or worse.

But Peter says that the call toward holiness is a reflection of God’s character.  The consummate shepherd, Peter pulls from the pages of scripture:  “You shall be holy, as I am holy” (Leviticus 20:26).   Orthodoxy leads to orthopraxy—that is, what you think about God changes how you live.  Think about it: could it be that your exhaustion stems from a misunderstanding of God’s character?  For instance, the story you might be living might be one of the following:

• “You shall keep busy, as the Lord your God expects perfection.” If God demands your performance, then you might find yourself in a whirlwind trying to keep everything together to avoid incurring God’s anger.

• “You shall stay under the radar, as the Lord your God is a harsh judge.” Alternately, if God is ready to blast you for your failure, you might find yourself withdrawing from spiritual practices because, let’s face it, who wants to pray when they feel like they’ve let God down?  Ironically a judgmental God might not promote ethical behavior, but for us to hide in fear.

• “You shall be open-minded, as the Lord your God is tolerant.” On the surface, an open mind seems a welcome alternative to the judgment we often associate with Christians.  But think harder: if we value justice, if we value wrongs set right, does this not demand ethical standards and judgment?  Tolerance that leads to complacency does not promote the flourishing of virtue, but can inhibit it.

No; Peter isn’t saying any of that.  Peter is saying: “be holy,” because this reflects God’s character.  He’s saying there’s more to life than video games, sports, relationships, or the countless other idols to which we might “conform.”  Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once said that “the arc of history is long, but it bends toward justice.”  What does your story “bend toward?”  Toward holiness?  Toward God’s kingdom?  Or to the world of your own fantasy—of your own comfort?

The things that captivate our attention don’t always reflect God’s master plan for the world.  They may, in fact, be a fantasy world that has ensnared us.  They are but shadows cast by a greater light.  We have but to shed our chains and turn from the flickering images to see Reality in all its splendor.  When we do, everything changes.  We conform not to our fantasies, but to the image of a God who loves us, who cares for us, and who romances us to be set apart in the same holy manner as he.

[1] “’League of Legends’ Gamer Dies In Taiwan, Corpse Goes Unnoticed For Hours In Internet Café,” Huffington Post, February 3, 2012, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/02/03/taiwan-internet-cafe-corpse-gamer-died-dead_n_1252766.html

[2] Douglas Coupland, Generation X: Tales of an Accelerated Culture.

The most immediate danger of idolatry is not spiritual death (though that comes later) but spiritual boredom.  When we measure our spiritual experiences against the yardstick of comfort, our idols possess limited effectiveness. Idols, after all, wear out; their effects wear off.  The result is an unending thirst for novelty: a new worship album, a new Bible study, a new religious project—even a new church community.  It’s little wonder why Americans change churches as often as some might change drycleaners.

This also might prompt us to mistake spiritual “busyness” for genuine intimacy with God.  We assume that if we’re happy, God must be pleased with us. And if we’re unhappy, then perhaps it’s time to try something new.

Worse, when suffering inevitably comes, we are confronted with the inadequacy of our tokens of comfort.  Where does that leave us?

Peter says that nothing—nothing—compares to the promises of God himself.  He says that if anything, Christians should rejoice in knowing that God’s promises came true in the person of Jesus:

10 Concerning this salvation, the prophets who prophesied about the grace that was to be yours searched and inquired carefully, 11 inquiring what person or time the Spirit of Christ in them was indicating when he predicted the sufferings of Christ and the subsequent glories. 12 It was revealed to them that they were serving not themselves but you, in the things that have now been announced to you through those who preached the good news to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven, things into which angels long to look. (1 Peter 1:10-12)

In her commentary on 1 Peter, Karen Jobes points out the great contrast between the past and present.  In the past, prophets looked forward to the arrival of Jesus; in the present we celebrate it.  In the past the Spirit revealed God’s future through prophets; in the present the Spirit told us of their fulfillment.  In the past, God’s messengers strained to know God’s future with certainty; in the present even the angels strain to gaze into the truths of the gospel.

So, Peter is saying, the sufferings that Christ experienced wasn’t an interruption in God’s plan; it was a vital part of it.  That means that the suffering that you and I might experience is likewise a part of an unfolding story.

Boredom produces a wandering eye—always flitting to “what’s next.”  But Peter said that even though God’s messengers spoke of “what’s next,” the arrival of Jesus is a joy that surpasses their anticipation.  What other message could possibly bring this kind of satisfaction?  What other hope is there?

Angels never get bored with the gospel.

And neither should we.

“Crisis reveals character.”  This was the sentiment of C.S. Lewis, from his famous meditation on suffering called The Problem of Pain.  Suffering comes in many forms, perhaps most broadly divided into the natural evils that seem random—ranging from hurricanes to cancer—to the moral evils that are far more malicious—such as persecution and war.

Peter was dealing with a culture that had become increasingly and openly hostile toward Christianity.  Though it would be some years yet before the government sanctioned persecution toward Christians, early believers still felt the sting of life as “chosen strangers.”

For most of our lives, you and I have inhabited a world that labeled itself Christian by default.  Now, it’s increasingly common to feel the social pressure of a world that demands we keep our faith to ourselves—and ostracizes us for bringing our values to the public sphere.

How does the gospel help us cope with that?

WHEN CHARACTER REPLACES COMFORT

First, Peter tells us that our attitude toward suffering should be one of joy:

6 In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, 7 so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.  (1 Peter 1:6-7)

“In this” refers back to the “hope” of the previous section.  We “rejoice” in hope, Peter tells us.  If you could read this in the Greek, your hair would stand on end.  The word “rejoice” is used in the New Testament to communicate a deep spiritual joy—the kind Mary felt when the angel announced her pregnancy (Luke 1:46-7).  And that’s sort of weird, because now Peter is saying that the same feeling you experience over the birth of a child is the feeling you and I are meant to experience when our faith is ridiculed and belittled.

To have one’s values stripped from the public square is hard to take.  Peter doesn’t say “Well, try and make the most of it.”  When our values or freedoms are threatened, we have a host of talking heads that comfort us by stirring our anger towards our political opponents or by dismissing them outright through political jokes.  But no, Peter says, we “rejoice.”  We dance like we’ve just received a birth announcement.  But why?  We find the reason in verse 7: the words “so that” tell us about the purpose of suffering.  Suffering has the capacity to reveal the deepest character of our spirituality.  Suffering—much like fire—has a refining effect; it’s why the Old Testament writers so often used it to refer to God testing the purity of the human soul (Psalm 66:10; Proverbs 17:3; Zechariah 13:9).  Peter is saying that yes, we can have our comfort stripped away from us.  But the character that’s left is far more valuable—at least inasmuch as it resembles the character of Christ.

WHEN INTIMACY REPLACES TRANSACTION

Secondly, Peter turns to the related theme of knowing God:

8 Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, 9 obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls. (1 Peter 1:8-9)

Do you see how these ideas are related?  If I value my comfort above all else, then my relationship with God takes the form of a transaction.  I do spiritual things hoping that I might achieve God’s blessing.  I look to God as a way to comfort my anxiety, improve my financial dealings, or offer me assistance in a relationship.  Mind you, your faith might very well do all of those things—but that’s not the point.  The goal of Christianity is to know God.  If you follow God for his blessings, then you love God for being useful, not for being beautiful.  In a strange yet very real way, you’ve turned God into an idol: because you’ve mistaken his good character as an emblem of the American dream.

The message of the gospel is not that by loving God he will give you what you need to face your circumstance.  The message of the gospel is that God loves you and he gives you himself—and he is what you need regardless of circumstance. 

This is the essential, counter-cultural message of Christianity.  Yet it’s a message that stirs the soul and lifts the eyes beyond the frayed horizon of Self.  And by casting our vision on him—his character, his grace, his future—we find satisfaction that we could never have dreamed of on earth.

We use the word “hope” far too casually.  Most often, we use “hope” as a synonym for “wishful thinking,” the verbal equivalent of crossing our fingers.  “I hope this recipe turns out ok,” we might say, or “I hope my team can maintain a strong defense in the last quarter.”  While these might be a way of looking forward to future events, we usually grant them no more than a week’s worth of significance—if that.

Columbia professor Andrew Delbanco uses “hope” as his way of defining “culture.”  A culture, Delbanco would say, is a group of people who share the same hope, or at least the same vision for the future.  For Americans, this means that we grow up bombarded with the “gospel” message of the American dream: get ahead; get rich; get what you want.  And, as we pointed out yesterday, we’ve allowed this message to strip away any true hope for the future for the tyrannical demands of Now.

When the early Christian writers used the word “hope,” they did so very carefully and very precisely.  For early Christians, the word “hope” was never rooted in some abstract fantasy, but rather in the certainty of God’s activity in human history.

In Peter’s letter, his first true lesson for the “chosen strangers” living in the hostile city of Rome was one of hope:

3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 4 to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, 5 who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. (1 Peter 1:3-5)

Do you see the beauty of Peter’s language?  We can see phrases like “great mercy,” “born again,” “living hope.”  This was a hope anchored in the historical reality of the resurrection of Jesus.  For early Christians, hope was certain: the physical resurrection of Jesus promised them that they, too, would one day be changed and would live again.

This was, at least in part, the “inheritance” that Peter speaks of.  In the Old Testament, the word “inheritance” was often used to speak of Israel receiving the Promised Land (Numbers 32:19; Deuteronomy 2:12; Joshua 11:23).  In the New Testament, this sort of language testifies to our share in God’s Kingdom (Galatians 3:18; Ephesians 1:14).

Why does this matter?  Because hope replaces fear.  Look at Peter’s letter.  How does it describe this future inheritance?  It is imperishable, undefiled, unfading.  If you lived in a place like Rome—which Peter had pointed out had become the social equivalent of Babylon (1 Peter 5:13)—you were displaced from all sense of safety and comfort.  Your hostile social setting left you feeling like the ground was constantly moving beneath your feet.  What does Peter say?  He says that believers like you and I “are being guarded through faith for a salvation to be revealed.”  If my hope rests in the American dream—if my hope is in money, success, comfort, a relationship, politics, etc., then I have placed my hope in something that is “perishable,” “defiled,” “fading.”  I live in constant fear of losing that source of satisfaction and security.  I worry that the next political leader will “take my guns away,” or limit my capacity for religious expression.  True, there may be many things that would grieve us—and perhaps rightly.  But if my hope lies in my salvation, in the city of God and not the fading city of man, then that changes everything.  This new hope prompts me to find joy and satisfaction not in my present, but in God’s future—and to find joy in the knowledge that this promise can never be tarnished or stolen.

Our story begins in a boat.  The year was 33 A.D., and a man named Peter had chosen to go fishing with his fellow disciples.  Fishermen were known for being tough entrepreneurs; Peter had undoubtedly spent a lifetime devoted to the task.  At least until he encountered a man named Jesus, a man who asked him to no longer be merely a fisherman, but a fisher of men.  Peter followed Jesus with unrivaled zeal—yet when Jesus was betrayed and arrested, Peter chose to deny him three times rather than endure the social and physical consequences.  He fled then and in all likelihood, he was fleeing now.

At the end of John’s gospel, we learn that Jesus had returned from the dead.  The disciples were amazed at this—yet we can’t help but imagine that for Peter, this joyous news lay on his shoulders like a burial shroud.  True, the disciples were never forbidden from going fishing, but the raw emotion of this scene pushes us to see something deeper at work in the heart of Peter.

After an unsuccessful fishing venture, a mysterious figure calls to them from the shore, encouraging them to cast their nets on the right side of the boat.  The miraculous catch of fish made them realize just who this man was.  When Peter heard that this was the Lord, he put his clothes on, then dove into the water—in that order.  He arrived soaking wet, only to find Jesus already there with food prepared.  By the fire Jesus asked Peter: “Do you love me more than these?”  And Peter said that he loved him.  Three times Jesus asked this—as though undoing Peter’s earlier denials—and three times Jesus gives Peter the simple command: “feed my sheep.”

In the presence of grace, this would-be failure became one of the church’s greatest shepherds.  Years later, Peter would write at least two letters to the churches of the ancient world—letters we know today as 1 and 2 Peter.

1 Peter opens with a customary greeting:

Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ,

To those who are elect exiles of the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, 2 according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, in the sanctification of the Spirit, for obedience to Jesus Christ and for sprinkling with his blood:

May grace and peace be multiplied to you. (1 Peter 1:1-2)

No one in the ancient church doubted that Peter was, indeed, the author.  A few scholars today have raised an eyebrow as to how a mere fishermen would have such polished Greek, but in reality a skilled fisherman living in a Hellenized (that is, Greek-dominated) world would have had ample opportunity—and reason—to learn the language.  Paul wrote many letters to various churches throughout the ancient world.  Peter’s letters were much fewer, yet were aimed at a broader, non-specific audience—it’s why we call them “general letters.”  What was it that Peter wanted to say?  What was Peter trying to communicate?

LIVING IN A STATE OF EXILE

The greatest clue actually appears at the end of Peter’s first letter.  There, we find that Peter alludes to the presence of the church “in Babylon.”  Babylon?  Surely this couldn’t be the Babylon we know from the Old Testament—that area had been deserted long before Peter was even born.  There had been a Roman military colony named Babylon, but Peter wouldn’t have been writing from there, it seems.  So where was Babylon?

Babylon was Rome.  Early writers used the word “Babylon” to refer to the self-serving opulence of this great city, not far from the way we might shake our heads and marvel at the decaying values of “Hollywood” or even “Washington.”   In Peter’s day, there had yet to be any official persecution of Christians—though history tells us of some localized events.  But Rome was hardly friendly to early believers.  In a culture dominated by the competing values of “honor” and “shame,” it would have been shameful to associate oneself with a rival religion—especially one that sought to bestow honor on a crucified Savior.

Peter’s concern, then, is articulated in the word “exiles.”  To be a Christian in such a world is to run against the flow of an increasingly hostile culture.  They were exiles, in Peter’s day.  And we are increasingly exiles now.

How so?  If you are a follower of Jesus, you occupy a world that has grown increasingly hostile toward people of faith.  We can see that in two distinct ways:

• “Athens” became “Babylon:”[1] A decade or so ago we assumed we lived in a world like Paul encountered in the city of Athens. We dealt with the question: “Is Christianity true?”  We read books about “worldviews” and philosophy.  We equipped ourselves to answer tough questions.  But the world we live in is more like Babylon than Athens.  We’re less concerned with the question “Is Christianity true?” and more concerned with the question: “Is Christianity good?”  And many would say: “No.”  A recent study was just released in which young people were asked if religion had a positive impact on society.  In 2010, 73% said “yes.”  Now, only 55% say yes—an 18% drop in five years.[2]

• “Present shock:” NPR analyst Douglas Rushkoff said that technology has pushed us to become obsessed with the present. We are unmoored from a sense of story and direction.[3]  It’s not far from what CBS correspondent Peggy Noonan had lamented in the early 1990’s.  She said that ours was the first generation “that actually expected to find happiness here on earth.”  Past generations shared some cultural expectation of heaven and the afterlife.  We’ve come to value instant gratification.  Believe this lie, Noonan warns, then you are not disappointed when the world does not give you a good measure of its riches, you are despairing.”[4]

Thus we can carve out a simple picture of life in Babylon: unhappily unmoored from the promises of eternity, yet openly hostile toward those who place their hope in it.

ELECT EXILES

Yet we are what Peter calls “elect exiles.”  We are strangers to the world, true—but we are quite equally chosen by God.  Think about what this means for a second: it means that no matter how much believers are pushed to the frayed edges of society, we remain confident in possessing the approval of God even though we lack the approval of man.

This is why Peter makes specific reference to the act of “sprinkling,” an obvious nod to the covenant promises of old (Exodus 24) now made final in the sacrifice of Jesus.  In her commentary on 1 Peter, Karen Jobes points out that it’s as if Peter is emphasizing the specific nature of Christianity over “some generic form of spirituality.”[5]  That is, Christianity always connects us to a story far greater—and deeper—than the false narratives offered by our culture.

Christianity therefore remains deeply valuable for a world of hostility and confusion.  This is the world that Peter speaks into, hoping his voice will be echoed back by one of the “elect exiles,” one of the “chosen strangers.”  His letter invites us to live meaningfully by casting our eyes toward a better Kingdom to come while maintaining a faithful presence in the city of man.

[1] I borrow this distinction from Steve McAlpine, “Stage Two Exile: Are You Ready for It?” http://australia.thegospelcoalition.org/article/stage-two-exile-are-you-ready-for-it

[2] Hannah Fingerhut, “Millennials’ views of news media, religious organizations grows more negative,” January 4, 2016, http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2016/01/04/millennials-views-of-news-media-religious-organizations-grow-more-negative/

[3] See Douglas Rushkoff, Present Shock.

[4] Peggy Noonan, “You’d Cry Too if it Happened to You,”  Forbes magazine, September 14, 1992, archived online at: http://www.peggynoonan.com/47/

[5] Karen H. Jobes, 1 Peter, p. 71.