He was the oldest
Christian in the room. And it wasn't a room he especially wanted to
be in. He, and not a few of his neighbors and friends, had been
summoned there quite against their will. The still-new provincial
governor, Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus, appointed by the Emperor
Trajan himself, had arrived in town a few weeks ago; he'd been making
his rounds to inspect all the province's cities, first in Bithynia
and now in Pontus. And here in Amisos, a “free and confederate”
commercial port town on the southern coast of the Black Sea, he'd
granted an exception to his general edict against all clubs and
associations. But there remained the question, then, of a more
troubling kind of association, in his eyes – a foreign cult called
“the Christians.”
The old man, standing to
face trial, wasn't wholly sure about the sequence of events that led
up to this. He'd heard that the local butchers had been making
plenty of noise about how Christians were so bad for business – the
more people converted, the fewer animals were being sold for
sacrifices, and the less demand there was for their services. The
butchers told all sorts of stories, unseemly rumors about what
Christians must really do at their secret gatherings in the
dark early hours of morning and the dim hours of evening. The local
magistrates pressed the issue on Governor Plinius. One band of
believers had already been dispatched. And now, more recently,
someone – no one knew who – had started passing around a pamphlet
accusing a bunch of other people of being members of this nefarious
cult. The old man had seen the pamphlet. Halfway down, he'd read
his own name, plain as day.
So here he was. And here
the rest of the named folks were. The elderly believer listened as
Governor Plinius interrogated them all, one by one. A few of those
in the crowd insisted they were there by mere accident: they'd never
been adherents of this “absurd and extravagant superstition” at
all. They denied all charges. The writer of the list had simply
been mistaken. There were others in the crowd – some of them the
old man recognized – who admitted they had flirted with the cult
long before. They'd joined it once, thinking it might be of some use
in their lives to try out this Christian thing, to get up before dawn
to sing hymns to this newfangled god called 'Christ' and make sacred
pledges of virtue, and then join again at night for a harmless meal
together. But they'd found it too dull, too demanding, and so
dissatisfaction led them to drop out – some as many as 25 years
ago!
The governor looked
skeptical. He ordered his guards to bring near some statues of
Caesar and the gods of Rome, and a bowl of incense. He told them all
that anyone who denied the charge of being a Christian would have to
demonstrate it by doing the things he'd heard a Christian couldn't
do: offer a pinch of incense in sacrifice to the gods, and then curse
the name of Christ, and they'd be free to go. Governor Pliny
explained, as patiently as he could, that he didn't want to risk the
reorganization of this superstitious cult after he left town. And
for those who insisted over and over again that they were Christians
and refused to obey his command to worship – well, the governor
said he'd give them three chances to repent of their Christianity.
And those who wouldn't repent – and there were quite a few of those
in the crowd – had one clear fate: The Roman citizens would be
shipped to the capital for trial, but the rest would be promptly put
to death for sheer stubbornness.
One by one, the accused
were interrogated. Tears trickled down the old man's cheeks as he
watched – he heard some in the room – even a few who'd been by
his side just this past Sunday to celebrate Christ – blaspheme the
name God set above every other name, the only name that brings
salvation. And his heart was warmed – and pounding fast – as he
listened to others continue to confess the faith, though faced with
deadly threats. And the old man knew, as the governor's attention
crept slowly in his direction, that the end had drawn near – the
end of his good conscience in Christ, if he gave in, or the end of
his earthly sojourn, if he held fast to the faith.
The older Christian
closed his eyes, tuning out the voices around him, the back-and-forth
of the governor with the rest of the defendants. He turned his
attention instead to one of his most cherished memories, almost fifty
years before. He'd been in his mid-twenties then, newly married to
his now-late bride (whom he missed dearly) and with a bundle of joy
just weeks old. The three of them had gathered one Sunday evening
into her father's home, alongside the few other Christians in their
neighborhood in Amisos, and been surprised to find a guest was
welcomed there. The man had traveled with a letter penned
in Rome. It had been written to them – written to him,
the then-young man had felt – by Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ
himself! Oh, what it was like to hear the words of that letter for
the very first time, fresh off the boat, while the ink was practically still wet! To
know that the apostle had been thinking of him,
praying for him and
his bride and his little one!
Reminiscing,
he meditated on hearing the messenger read the letter aloud to the
little church gathered around the table. He recalled how the
messenger intoned phrases like “born again to a living hope” –
beautiful words! He'd heard freshly about “the precious blood of
Christ” – how dear! He'd heard he was a living stone in God's
own spiritual house – he was a building block in a holy temple, and
he was a member of the priesthood! Wow! He'd heard the messenger
explain the apostle's advice on being subject to the governors whom
the emperor sent out “to punish those who do evil and to
praise those who do good” (1
Peter 2:14) – was that why Pliny was here now, in the present
autumn of 112 AD? Certainly, he'd unknowingly praised a few
Christians when he'd read inscriptions about their benefactions to
the city.
The
old man opened his eyes – the interrogation was drawing closer.
He shut them again and retreated back to that memory. He remembered
vividly how he felt, hearing the messenger read the apostle's words
to wives and then to husbands – remembered the apostle's directions
for him to show honor and respect to his wife as a fellow heir of the
grace of life, a spiritual equal. That had made him blush,
remembering his first marital spat; he glanced at his bride and
mouthed an apology across the room. They listened together to the
apostle's counsel to set apart Christ as holy in their hearts, and to
give no thought to fear amidst their sufferings.
And
then came those next words, floating before his mind in memory –
the same words we're here to hear this morning: “Since,
therefore, Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the same
mindset, for whoever has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin,
so as to live for the rest of the time in the flesh no longer for
human passions but for the will of God”
(1 Peter 4:1-2). Those words were every bit as true for the older
man in the year 112 as they were when Peter wrote them; and they're
equally true in the year of our Lord 2017. And the truth is this:
Jesus Christ suffered in the flesh for us. He suffered in the flesh
for you. He suffered first of all on every day of his earthly life,
no doubt – from hunger, from thirst, from stress, from sickness and
pain. He didn't have to be here, didn't have to come down. But he
came into a painful world to be with us.
And
then he went further – to the cross. And there, the Lord Jesus
Christ suffered in the flesh for you, in ways we can't even imagine –
not just the pain, not just the bleeding and the strain and the
piercing and the suffocating, but the dreadful shame and weakness.
What kind of mindset did Jesus have to deploy to face it? What kind
of mindset did he confirm himself in when praying in Gethsemane in
full knowledge of what the next twenty-four hours would bring? “Not
my will, but your will be done,”
he prayed to his Father (Luke 22:42). And Peter says, “Arm yourselves
with the same mindset” (1
Peter 4:1). This life includes plenty of suffering. I know, for my
part, I don't much care for those bits. But there they are. And
Peter tells us that, when we're suffering, at least we're not out
there sinning and committing crimes! So we should focus on the perks
of our suffering: they grant us an opportunity to confront our
desires, our “human passions,”
and to pray like Jesus prayed, adopting God's will in preference to
our own: “to live for the rest of the time in the flesh
no longer for human passions but for the will of God”
(1 Peter 4:2). Friends, when you face a difficult situation – when
you're pained, when you're tempted, when you're stressed out and at
the end of your rope, look at it this way: as you push through, if
you arm yourselves with Jesus' mindset, then you're living not for
your own desires but for God's will. Do that.
Peter went on to say, in
that letter of his: “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. With
respect to this, they are surprised”
– they think it unusual, even a foreign intrusion in your life –
“when you do not join them in the same flood of
debauchery, and they blaspheme you”
(1 Peter 4:3-4). That's Peter trying his hand at cultural
commentary. It's also the word of God to us. See, Peter is
criticizing what, for the rest of society, had become just normal
life. Sensuality and desire – normal life. Bubbling over with
wine at parties – normal life. Offering a pinch of incense to the
spirits in your home, or to Caesar's statue at a civic festival –
that was normal life in those days. Those who were baptized into the
body of Christ, though, considered “normal life” to be a thing of
the past. They withdrew from their involvement in it, stood back
from what seemed a matter of course to their neighbors. As a result,
they'd have to start turning down their neighbors' and friends'
invitations to go to these parties, celebrate these festivals,
participate in what Peter calls this “flood of debauchery.”
Consequently, people were offended. People were offended because
this whole “Jesus thing” exposed their 'normal' as a lesser way.
And in their offense, they'd blaspheme their former friend who'd
begun living a Christian life. The older man on trial before
Governor Pliny knew that all too well.
But
we might know it, too. See, in our own time, plenty of these same
things have become 're-normalized,' and then some. Spend a day
watching the latest sitcoms and dramas, and take some notes on what
behaviors are accepted there as 'normal life' – sensuality,
passions, drunkenness... it all starts to sound familiar. Or take a
look at our culture's taboos: the things it's suddenly socially
unacceptable to say, and indeed the other things it's now becoming
mandatory
to say – about free sexual ethics, or the irrelevance of biology to
'gender identity,' and plenty more. For much of the Western world,
that's now the new 'normal,' the new way of the Gentiles.
But
that's not all. What else is normal? Working forty, fifty hours a
week, draining ourselves of life for the sake of dollars? That's
pretty 'normal.' Putting ourselves first – whether us as
individuals, our families, or our nation? That's pretty 'normal.'
Returning put-down for put-down? That's pretty 'normal.' Worrying
about how to make ends meet, running to and fro after food, clothing,
bills, vacations? Pretty 'normal.' Priding ourselves on not getting
too intellectually deep? In American culture, that's pretty 'normal. '
Certain attitudes of extreme reverence, almost religious devotion,
toward the banners and emblems of our national religion? In some
sections, those are pretty 'normal.' Elevating “common sense” to
the fifth Gospel? That's pretty 'normal' around here, too. And
individualism – stressing our rights ahead of our obligations –
and plenty of other elements of the standard American credo? Again,
pretty 'normal.' Maybe a lot of that is 'normal' even for us.
Peter
tells us to put 'normal' behind us – to get in on a life that seems
absurd, seems abnormal, but is in reality a comprehensive new
lifestyle in Christ. But when we don't join in on 'normal,' we stand
out. We get called out. We may find ourselves excluded, scoffed at,
even insulted, maligned, blasphemed. But Peter points out that it's
when people get caught up in the 'normal,' in the here-and-now, in the
latest trends and cultural commonplaces, so much so they're unsettled
by our intrusions of abnormality – well, the people caught up in
the normal are missing out on how they'll be held to account on a day
that ain't so far off. 'Normal' isn't normal forever. What seems
common sense will fall by the wayside with the changing currents of
culture, the upheavals of history – or its conclusion. What people
are missing is this: “The
end of all things is at hand”
(1 Peter 4:7).
What
exactly Peter means by that has been a long-debated controversy. I'm
not really going to get into that in the cosmic sense this morning.
But he says it on the heels of making a reference to how Christ is
“ready
to judge the living and the dead”
(1 Peter 4:5). Peter doesn't say that Christ will eventually
judge the living and the dead, once he reaches it on his to-do list,
once he figures out where he filed those records, once he psyches
himself up for it, once he gets around to it. No, Peter says that
Christ, who already died and already rose, is now ready
to judge. The end of all things – their completion, their final
turn – is close at hand already. It was then, and it still is.
And we just don't know. We don't know when 'normal' will be decisively
unmasked.
But
here's the thing. Whether “the end” in general is tomorrow or
next year or next century, it's still plenty near for us – and you
might face it sooner than you think. Some of you here are,
statistically speaking, into the latter third of your earthly
pilgrimage. And as you deal with the way fleshly bodies react when
they've been in continuous use for a while, that provokes a
realization: the end may be drawing too near for comfort. Some of
our number are in nursing homes – the end is near. Others aren't –
the end is still near. Even for a relatively young person like me –
the end is still near. Not a one of us here has any guarantees that
we'll still be sticking around by next Sunday.
Later
this month, we'll mark a year since a young man from one of our
church families abruptly found that the end of his earthly pilgrimage
had come. He didn't get up that morning and think that it would be
his last race in this old creation – but it was. And, as I
mentioned, two weeks ago my twenty-year-old niece died on a hike in
Colorado. When she and her friends set out that preceding morning,
surely none of them realized that the end of her earthly journey had
arrived – but it had. Our ignorance of the time of the end, be it
the end in general or our personal encounter with the end, is no
defense against it, nor does it delay it even one hour.
And
that's significant. Peter explains to believers that what their
critics, detractors, and accusers – those living in slavery to
what's normal – don't realize is that “they
will give account to him who is ready to judge the living and the
dead. For this is why the gospel was preached even to those who are
dead, that, although judged according to men in the flesh, they might
live according to God in the Spirit”
(1 Peter 4:5-6). When we hear of a tragic death, when someone we
know passes away, when we confront our own mortality, we might wonder
if there's any point to this life, especially if this life happens to
be so short. We might wonder if the gospel offers any hope, if those
who hear and believe it just go the way of all flesh. Peter wants us
to know that the gospel was preached to those who have since then
died, and not without fruit: even though they received the same fate
common to all Adam's children, they are bound in yet closer unity to
God's Spirit, and that's life. But whatever awaits us, it's coming.
And when the end comes for any given one of us, we'll stand before a
Judge to render an account. So with that in mind, Peter warns us
that there's a definite shape that Christian hope takes when it turns
toward the end, which all of us should and many of us must keep in
mind.
So
how exactly are we supposed to prepare for the end? Do we walk
around with sandwich boards, ringing our bells, shouting out,
“Repent, the end is nigh”? That's not what Peter says. Here's
his advice on how to be ready for the One who's ready for you.
First, pray. Spend a lot of time in prayer. It's some of the least
wasteful time you'll spend. True, praying a lot, praying in all
circumstances, praying for everybody – that's not normal. Well,
good. 'Normal' doesn't pan out so well in the end anyway. So pray.
And to pray well, Peter says, you'll need to be “self-controlled
and sober-minded for the sake of your prayers”
(1 Peter 4:7). “Self-controlled” – that's the opposite of
impulsive, the opposite of shooting from the hip, the opposite of
indulging in our desires and overly treating ourselves.
“Sober-minded” – that's the opposite of the world's parties.
It's just not normal. Good. If you want to be well-equipped to live
a hopeful life toward the approaching end, that's the first thing you
have to do: Put away those things of the past; don't live in the
past, in memories of excitement gone by; but instead, live in the
present and unto the future by prayer. As the end approaches, make
prayer one of your chief activities.
Second,
there's hospitality. “Show
hospitality to one another without grumbling”
(1 Peter 4:9). Again, that's really not normal. Ours is an
individualistic age: you have your space, I have mine, and while we
might from time to time have to interact a bit on the edges – or,
heaven forbid, intrude into one another's bubbles – it's a
temporary imposition to be resented and ended as soon as possible.
Hospitality has no place in today's 'normal.' And yet there it is.
Hospitality – the word Peter uses for it means loving foreigners,
loving strangers, loving guests, loving those abnormal intrusions into our lives – is the abnormal second nature to abnormal people.
Can we really learn to love intrusions, love disruptions, love
impositions, and not even mutter or grumble or complain about it?
Peter says we can – and it's all the more important as we near the
end. Many of you have plenty of space and time, and not quite as
many people to fill it. Peter might advise you to take initiative,
to extend invitations, to offer that extra space and extra time to
guests.
Third,
there's love. “Above
all, keep loving one another earnestly, since 'love covers a
multitude of sins'”
(1 Peter 4:8). Again, not normal. In our culture, sure, we talk
a lot about love. You've seen the trite sloganeering: “Love is love,” “Love trumps
hate.” You've heard the songs: “All you need is love, love. Love
is all you need.” All well and good, but real love is a radical thing.
It's not just a kind and warm feeling of acceptance. It's a firm
disposition to seek the good welfare of others, even at a high cost –
as Jesus illustrated, even at the highest cost. Love like that –
love that's fervent, earnest, stretched out – is not people's
default setting. It's not normal. But it can win people back from a
life of sin. And if the end draws near and your time is short,
wouldn't it be all the more precious, all the more pressing, to love
like that and gain one or two final victories? Who slows down as
they approach the finish line? Don't runners often try to expend all
their energy to gain those last added seconds? Why don't we approach
life like that? Peter advises that we approach love
like that: when the finish line's in sight, pull out all the stops.
Fourth,
there's stewardship. That's a funny word: It usually referred to
household management, what we used to study in school in that class
called “Home Economics.” Peter tells us to give it a whirl when
it comes to being skillful administrators of the gifts God has given
us. “As each
has received a gift,”
he says. He doesn't say, “As some
have received a gift.” If you're a Christian, you have a spiritual
gift. There's no such thing as an ungifted Christian. No matter
your personality type, no matter your age, no matter your quality of
health or level of mobility, you were given a gift. And it came with
instructions that said, “Use this to build up my people.” That's
why it's so important to stay plugged in to the Christian community,
to the church. Intentionally holding back is bad stewardship. But,
it's true, a few of our number are legitimately shut-in – maybe not
quite as many as think
they are – and that's when hospitality becomes even more important,
so you can better exercise your gift. But no matter if you're fit
and able-bodied, or if you're a shut-in, or if you're in a nursing
home; no matter if you're an extrovert or an introvert; no matter all
that – you have a gift.
And
Peter says, “As
each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good
stewards of God's varied grace”
(1 Peter 4:10). Hey, didn't I tell you it came with instructions?
Use it to serve one another. Use it to build up God's people. Peter
says nothing about using it for profit, or using it for
self-improvement, or using it to help around the house. Peter does
say, “Use it
to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace”
– his motley grace for a motley crew. No matter how old or young
you are, you can do that. Don't embezzle the blessings that were
meant to flow through you to other people! You'll be more blessed if
you steward your gift wisely. If your gift involves speaking, Peter
says, whether that means preaching or offering words of counsel and
encouragement, then do it as somebody speaking the very words of God
– speak with all the care and panache as if you were dictating a
sixty-seventh book of the Bible. And if your gift involves more
labor with your hands, then go ahead: render it as an act of service, “as
one who serves by the strength that God supplies”
(1 Peter 4:11).
And
finally, Peter tells us, we're to “live
the rest of the time in the flesh … for the will of God”
(1 Peter 4:2), “in
order that, in everything, God may be glorified through Jesus Christ:
to him belong glory and dominion forever and ever”
(1 Peter 4:11). None of us knows how much time he or she's got left
before the end catches up to us. It could be years, even decades.
It could be months, weeks, hours. Be prepared for the end, and what
comes after the end, by living the rest of the time you've got left
for God's will, to glorify the Lord God through the Lord Jesus in all the things you
say and do, in all the circumstances of your life. That goes for
whether you race motorcycles, hike in the mountains, sit in a nursing
home, dine with family, run a business, or stand trial for your
faith.
Whatever
you do in that time: Is it just normal? Or is it the will of God?
Is it mundane? Or does it glorify God through Jesus Christ? Is it
routine? Or is it prepping you to face the One who died and rose and
is ready to return to judge the living and the dead? Are you ready?
Are you living the remainder of your time in a way that will make you
ready? The old man who stood before Governor Pliny – men and women
like that lived so as to be ready for the end. Don't let the end
catch you unprepared. Don't let it catch you caught up in what's
'normal.' Glorify God in Jesus. “To
him belong glory and dominion, forever and ever. Amen”
(1 Peter 4:11).
