Something Other

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     Several years ago a book came out that made a minor splash among historians and readers of history. I didn’t commit the title or the author’s name to memory because I was fairly sure I wouldn’t read it, and completely sure I wouldn’t recommend it – the premise was deeply flawed. The book was a revised history of the first-century Christian church, in which the author claims that the persecution of Christians didn’t happen. All made up. Fiction. No feeding of Christians to the lions, no human torches in Nero’s gardens, no martyrs. The stories were concocted by Christians to gain sympathy from non-Christians. Hmm. Thank God for minor splashes.

     I don’t usually read comments on online articles, but since I’d learned of the book through a secular source I was especially curious. There were those who congratulated the author: it’s about time somebody got the story straight. And then came the comment that defused the rhetoric, and perhaps kept a minor splash from becoming a major one. The book’s premise is a non-issue. What explains the explosive growth of the early church? Sympathy is completely insufficient to bring thousands at a time into the faith. It boils down to this: It wasn’t how first-century Christians died that drew people into the family of God, it was how they lived.

     In the twenty-first century, the same is true. Christians in some parts of the world are facing terrible persecution – nobody signs up for the maiming and murdering, yet something about the faith is so compelling that millions are willing to risk it. How inviting must the lives of persecuted Christians be to draw others into the risk? Meanwhile, here in the US and the rest of the Western world, persecution isn’t our gig. We won’t be able to play on the sympathies of our countrymen. I’m hearing more and more talk about the marginalizing of Christians in “the first world,” but it strikes me as an especially lame tactic for evangelism. I’ll bet Jesus has a better plan, a plan to make our lives inviting to non-believers, even those who think they’re doing just fine without the bother of Christianity.

     Jesus started redeeming his church before his church existed. We’re only, what, five days into our New Testament reading plan for this year, and already Matthew has brought us face-to-face with the Lord’s core teaching. The only mention of persecution is to rejoice in it, and be glad (see 5:11-12). Other than that, Jesus unrolls the blueprint for a life so compelling, unbelievers couldn’t help wanting to be around people who live it. This is the life he intends for all his disciples to lead, pursuing one attribute after another, as we are conformed to the image of (God’s) Son (Romans 8:29).

     The question, as we wrap up this four-part mini-series on “Redeeming Church,” is, “How can we best cooperate with Jesus in the full and final redemption of his church?” We want to be pulling in the same direction. I’ll put one answer, or part of it anyway, in the form of another question. As you roll into Chapters 6 and 7 of Matthew next week, ask yourself, “If I and all the people of my church were living the life Jesus describes in the Sermon on the Mount, how would our neighbors and families and coworkers react?”

     Jesus’ church in the Western world isn’t to the point of needing rescue from persecution. But looking around (and looking inward), I see that we are very much in need of redemption from a handful of other maladies: the quest for influence, the illusion of self-sufficiency, the nagging hunger to be heard on our own terms. Why does the church need redemption from these? Because they are precisely what the world strives for – and even the casual observer can tell there’s no peace, no rest, no generosity nor any confidence in the striving. If Jesus weren’t calling his people to be salt and light (Matthew 5:13, 14) – if he were OK with his church being just like the rest of the world – then those pursuits would be legitimate. But his calling is something other, isn’t it? Arrogance, hubris, and self-promotion can be had anywhere – the church must be different.

     “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (5:3). In the very first sentence of his core teaching, as he first opened his mouth and taught (verse 2), Jesus was all about the kingdom of heaven – kingdom men, women, and children living to the glory of their King… and for the benefit and potential blessing of whoever doesn’t know him yet. Every church is meant to be a manifestation of the kingdom of heaven right here on earth, compelling others to notice the difference. In one moment, our gracious God will enliven the soul of an unbeliever with saving faith; in the next moment, the brand-new believer will want to become part of a community of Christian faith, and should have a pretty good idea where to look. See how it works?

     Jesus knew, beforehand, that even his people would be tempted toward the same methods the world (supposedly) is having success with. So before he ever uttered the word “church” (Greek, ecclesia – his first recorded use is at Matthew 16:18), he preempted the temptation, began redeeming the church before she got started. He led with what the kingdom of heaven and its inhabitants are like. We would do well to wiggle into his description. We would do well to stop striving after the same things as the world. We would do exceedingly well to “seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness” (6:33), and have whatever else added to us – at the Lord’s discretion.

     There are books I’ve decided to not read. There are books I’ve thrown in the trash. At the other end of the spectrum are books that beckon to me, and I crave the time and opportunity to read them. There are books I hope to read again and again. But the best book on my reading list – and I’m sure it’s the best, by an infinite degree – will be read to me. My name is written in it. And the names of so many of you whom I love so dearly – your names are written there, too. This book is still being compiled, and as astonishing as it might seem, Jesus calls us into a kind of co-authorship with him.

     I’m happy to receive the assignment – even happier to have Jesus receive all the credit. How about you?

  

Grace and Peace (and blessedness, by Jesus’ definition),

 

John