Hey, Cobblestone,
I’m writing to you today on a topic I have no business
writing about. In fact, I’m so bad at it that I’ll be writing on the same topic
for two more letters after this one. There is no natural tendency of my own
that would make me good at the subject at hand. Therefore, I write.
Good sense is urging you to bail on this letter before it
gets any further out of hand. I would appeal to your love and our common bond
in the body of Christ to stick with it. At best, we’ll be cooperating with the
Holy Spirit. At worst, you will have wasted an 8-minute read.
To get us started, here is the Scripture to be dealt with:
Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near (Philippians 4:5 NIV).
And my soul says, “Good luck with that.” The world is a
prickly place. Eight billion people, eight billion agendas. Agendas collide at
an un-trackable pace. And collisions rarely – oh, so rarely – produce
gentleness. Unless the Creator’s grand plan is to provide each of his kids with
his or her own planet (like Beta fish, each with its own bowl), the collisions
could extend into eternity. Not a happy prospect. Or perhaps there’s a better
way.
If you know me at all, you know I’m a dedicated fan of
scientific method. Be methodical with the evidence, rather than haphazard. The
evidence won’t lie. Or, as the Bible commentator Matthew Henry once wrote: “The
practical love of truth is the most powerful preservative from error and
delusion.” For the love of truth, let’s start with a hypothesis:
“Every relational boo-boo in human history can be traced to a
deficiency of gentleness.”
Scientific method dictates that we gather evidence now. The
evidence may support the hypothesis; the evidence may work to dismantle the
hypothesis. The love of truth will push us on, regardless. Where shall we
start? Well, gee, I would rather write about your lack of gentleness
than mine. (Hmm, this could be a
collision in the making.) Tell ya what: let’s rewind to the beginning of human
history and see what evidence is to be found there.
(The Lord God) said, “Who told you that you were naked?
Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” The man
said, “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit of the
tree, and I ate” (Genesis 3:11-12 ESV).
Instead of reflexively blaming his wife, Adam might have
realized they were both in a heap of trouble, and since the Lord God was
addressing him (“you” is singular here in the Hebrew), he might have asked the
Lord God for help, which would have benefitted his bride as well. But there was
something in him, something pervasive and self-serving, that made him go with
harshness, blaming not only his helpmate but also the God who gave her to him.
On that first nugget of evidence, lets see if we can identify what was in Adam
(and might be at work in us).
The long ago Bible teacher Oswald Chambers described two
competing paradigms within each living Christian. One he called “the essential
sweetness of the Son of God”; the other is designated “the essential irritation
of myself apart from Him.” (If you care to see the terms in context, they’re in
his devotional classic My Utmost for His Highest at the May 14
installment.) If we trust in God’s work of redemption and sanctification in us,
we will also trust that the essential sweetness of Jesus is the stronger of the
two, by far. But if we’re honest with ourselves, we have to admit that the
essential irritation lives closer to the surface.
The question is: Which one will prevail? The answer is: Both,
at separate times. The goal – well, I sure hope it’s our goal – is to have the
essential sweetness of Jesus prevail more often. By way of introducing this
series of letters, I would have us consider one key thought: The very life of
Christ is in every Christian. Not just a knowledge of Christ or a resemblance
to him, but his very life. It would take a much longer series of letters than
this one to call up every biblical reinforcement on the life of the begotten
Son in every adopted son and daughter of God. So let’s go with some of the
low-hanging fruit:
I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but
Christ who lives in me (Galatians 2:20).
For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in
God. When Christ who
is your life appears…
(Colossians 3:3-4a, emphasis added).
…the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in
you, the hope of glory (Colossians 1:27).
Apart from embracing the very life of Christ in us, I have no
sweet clue as to how to keep the “essential irritation” from being the defining
characteristic of our lives. Suppression only works until the lid blows off –
meaning that it doesn’t work at all.
Next time, we’ll gather more evidence to test our hypothesis.
Meanwhile, each of us can gather evidence from our daily interactions. All the
while, let’s remember: Let your gentleness be evident to all, the
Scripture says. And it goes on to say, The Lord is near.
How much nearer could the Lord be than in?
Grace and Peace (inward and outward),
John
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