Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

 

Retired Bible Professor,

Bob Jones University

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James’s Big Ideas, Part 4: Works 

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Wisdom | Part 3: Words 

One more theme makes itself obvious in James’s little letter. Multiple times he uses a Greek verb, or its noun equivalent, to speak of our works. 

He notes a couple of ways that humans naturally “work” evil: 

  • We exhibit wrath (Jam 1.20). 
  • We discriminate against people—specifically the poor (Jam 2.9—translated “commit” or “committing” in many of the English versions). 

But God doesn’t leave us in our sorry state. The first thing James comments on in his letter is that God “works” in his people through trials, to develop endurance in them. When he has rescued us from our inborn proclivities, he begins to work on us, shaping us, trying us, so that we will be mature examples of his people. 

And what do you suppose happens then? 

We begin to “work” in ways that we were unable to before. In fact, it becomes impossible for us not to respond to God’s work in us with our works—works that provide evidence of the genuineness of our faith. In James’s memorable words, “Faith without works is dead” (Jam 2.20). 

He gives us two historical examples of believers who demonstrated their faith by their works: 

  • Abraham (Jam 2.21), who obeyed God’s command to take his promised son, Isaac, to Moriah and sacrifice him, until God stopped him at the very last moment (Hebrews 11.19 tells us that he believed that God would raise his son from the dead after he had sacrificed him.) 
  • Rahab (Jam 2.25), who protected the Israelite (enemy!) soldiers and enabled them to escape the Canaanite forces 

This kind of obedience perfectly exemplifies the attitude James has already described—and commanded—in chapter 1: that we should be doers of the Word, and not merely hearers (Jam 1.25). Abraham heard the word directly, of course; God spoke to him audibly (Ge 22.2), as he did relatively often in those days before the arrival of the Living Word (He 1.1-2) and the completion of the Written. 

But the case of Rahab is less obvious, more subtle. There is no indication that God ever spoke to her. She and her people had heard—through the rumor mill—of the parting of the Red Sea and of Israel’s defeat of the two Amorite kings (Jos 2.10). I suppose we could say that the word Rahab heard from God was general, rather than special, revelation. But while her countrymen had responded as unbelievers, in fear, she had responded in faith: “Yahweh your God, he is God in heaven above and in earth beneath” (Jos 2.11). And that faith unavoidably made itself plain in her decisions and the consequent actions. 

Here we have clear evidence of God’s working in the hearts of those who believe in him to produce evidentiary works. 

Throughout his epistle James gives us plentiful specific examples of the kinds of works we will produce as God works in us. 

  • Enduring temptation (faithfulness) (Jam 1.12) 
  • Control of anger (Jam 1.19) 
  • Responding to the Scripture’s correcting work (Jam 1.25) 
  • Helping widows and orphans (Jam 1.27) 
  • Nondiscrimination (Jam 2.1) 
  • Giving to the poor (Jam 2.15) 
  • Controlling the mouth (Jam 3.2) 
  • Sorrow for sin (Jam 4.9) 
  • Rejection of materialism (Jam 4.13) 
  • Honesty (Jam 5.1, 4) 
  • Prayer (Jam 5.16) 

And so it must be with us. We demonstrate our genuine faith through our “conversation,” our lifestyle, including both words and works, that displays the fruit of obedience. And that, James says, is wisdom (Jam 3.13). 

So here, at the end, we find that all three of these Big Ideas come together. We gain wisdom from God, and that wisdom leads us to works that are consistent with our condition as believers, including words that bring life rather than death. 

This epistle from the first generation of Jesus’ followers is as relevant today as ever. 

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James’s Big Ideas, Part 2: Wisdom 

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Part 1: Introduction 

One of James’s greatest emphases, from the beginning (Jam 1.5) to the end (Jam 5.20) of his epistle, is wisdom. James is using the Greek word sophia, from which we get our words sophisticated, sophomore, and philosopher. In the Bible, it doesn’t mean “smart” or “intellectually gifted”; there are many examples in the Bible of smart people who weren’t wise, and of wise people who weren’t particularly smart. The Bible uses the word to describe people who are good at figuring out what is the right or most effective or most appropriate response to a situation. It’s about the practical side, not the mental or intellectual side. 

Where Do You Get It? 

James begins his epistle by implying that you get wisdom from experience, specifically trials and testings (Jam 1.2-4). In the hard days of life you learn to work through those difficulties to a solution; and whether your “solution” is a good one or not, you learn from it, whether as a positive or negative example. After a sufficient number of those experiences, you find yourself “mature and complete, not lacking anything” (Jam 1.4 NIV). 

But then, to drive his point home, he speaks directly: if you need wisdom, ask God for it. God will give you all you need, and he won’t be bothered that you asked (Jam 1.5); in fact, he’ll be glad you asked. You demonstrate humility and teachability by asking, and those qualities set you up for wisdom. 

But—and here’s a fundamental qualification—you need to trust the God you ask (Jam 1.6). He will answer, and effectively, and he will bring you out at the right place. As James has already implied, wisdom comes through difficulty—and when God begins to answer your request by sending hard times, you need to trust him by expecting the hard times to come, facing them directly, and working through them to the end and the resulting wisdom. There’s no room for “going wobbly” with the all-wise and loving God when he’s acting—as he always does—in your best long-term interests. If you don’t face the difficulty and drive through to the end, you’re not going to be any wiser for the experience (Jam 1.7). 

What Happens Then? 

Wisdom has specific characteristics; when you get it, you’ll be able to recognize it. In the middle of his epistle, James tells us what it doesn’t look like, and then what it does. 

Not Like This 

James says that the world has a certain way of looking at things, a way that it thinks is “wise” (Jam 3.14-15). It’s characterized, he says, by “bitter envying and strife” (Jam 3.14). We certainly see that around us, from Tik Tok influencers to tensions between global superpowers. I want something that someone else has, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it. The world calls this “initiative” or “drive”; but what it really is is rejection of providence and lack of trust in the goodness and wisdom of the Director. 

James says (Jam 3.15) this “wisdom” is  

  • Earthly: focused on the temporary, the trivial (think pop culture) 
  • Sensual: focused on what makes you naturally feel good (think promiscuity, addiction, laziness) 
  • Devilish: focused on the selfish pride that characterizes the evil forces 

But Like This 

True wisdom, on the other hand, evidences itself in a person’s choices (Jam 3.13)—specifically (Jam 3.17), choices that reflect  

  • Purity: morally clean living 
  • Peaceableness: a tendency to radiate and encourage peace rather than conflict 
  • Gentleness: refusal to insist on your rights; tending to yield 
  • Entreatability: willingness to hear the other side and to be convinced 
  • Mercifulness: kindness to those in need; willingness to withhold punishment 
  • Good fruits: actions that are useful or beneficial 
  • Impartiality: treating others with fairness and respect 
  • Genuineness: being what you claim and what you advocate 

Did you notice that at the beginning of this post, I listed James 5.20 as advocating wisdom? Did you check that reference? It doesn’t use the word; the last explicit reference to wisdom is here in James 3.17. But if wisdom is the ability to choose the right response in a situation, then James 5.20 is talking about it, even without mentioning it. 

If you look at our current culture, you probably find it difficult to avoid the conclusion that we live in a foolish, foolish age. 

How about if we choose to go against the flow and raise our culture’s wisdom quotient rather than making the world more foolish? 

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James’s Big Ideas, Part 1: Introduction 

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Imagine having as a best friend one of Jesus’ brothers—someone who lived with and looked up to him when he was a child, who at first didn’t believe on him (Jn 7.5), maybe thought he was a little crazy (Mt 12.46-49)—but one day, the resurrected Jesus came to him (1Co 15.7), and he was never the same. Now he’s a leader in the early church (Ac 15.13; Ga 2.9); he’s a man who walks with God and prays so much that his knees have calluses like a camel’s. And he’s your best friend. Would you listen to what he says? 

As it turns out, this half-brother of Jesus has written a letter, a brief one, but one that’s filled with big ideas, thoughts that have been percolating in his head since that conversation with his resurrected older brother, the conversation that made him realize that everything he thought he knew was fundamentally far too simple. This letter is the fruit of those hours in the Temple, on his callused knees, meditating on the Hebrew Scriptures and the teachings of the brother he thought he knew but obviously didn’t. 

In this letter James has an unusual style. He writes like a combination of Teddy Roosevelt and John the Baptist, or perhaps the prophet Amos or Ezekiel, along with the sort of intense disjointedness that we find in Proverbs. He’s confident, assured of the rightness of his words, and he says what he thinks, bluntly and with no attempt to soften their impact. 

He speaks his mind, and he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. 

But at the same time, his love for his brother—his master (Jam 1.1), the Lord of glory (Jam 2.1)—is apparent in every word, even though he mentions him only twice in his letter. And his love for the readers of this letter, “my brethren” (Jam 2.1 and 7 other times in these 5 chapters), “my beloved brethren” (Jam 1.19) is evident as well. He writes directly, practically, down to earth and easy to understand; he shows no sign of Paul’s complex argumentation or John’s heavenly vision. He’s about doing—ethics—not just thinking or feeling. He says these hard things because his readers are worth the effort, the risk, the direct intervention. He is not willing to let them go. 

Because of his passionate bluntness, he doesn’t evidence the clear logical structure of Paul, say, in Romans or 1 Corinthians or Galatians, or of the author of Hebrews. As noted earlier, he reads more like Proverbs than like Paul. 

And so he says a lot of things. One commentator, Zane Hodges, sees a broad structure in the book laid out in James 1.19: “Let every man be swift to hear [Jam 1.21-2.26], slow to speak [Jam 3.1-18], slow to wrath [Jam 4.1-5.6]” (“The Epistle of James,” in the Grace NT Commentary, 1108ff). But most students of the epistle see it as much more free-flowing than structured. 

In this brief series I’d like to stop and think about three of the things James thinks are most important for you and me, his friends, to know. These three things are the core of what we need to know—and be—in order to have the very best life, the life that God has designed us for. 

The three things are easy to remember, since they all start with “w.” They are our wisdom, our words, and our works. 

To be continued. 

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On Widows in the Church 

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In the Bible James notes that taking care of widows and orphans is at the very heart of true religion (Jam 1.27). Later Paul, in a letter to his protégé Timothy, gives details on how the church should see to that duty (1Ti 5.3-16). His words are perhaps unexpectedly lengthy and detailed; he wants this done right. 

Widows with family, he says, should be cared for by their family (1Ti 5.4, 16). That’s sensible. Further, the widow needs to be at least 60 (1Ti 5.9)—presumably because a younger woman would have a reasonable chance of getting married again (1Ti 5.11)—and have lived in a way that demonstrates the genuineness of her faith (1Ti 5.9-10), something that would obligate the church to see to her care. 

How does this work in our culture? I’d like to share a story from my experience. 

In a church where I was on the elder board, one of the elders got a burden for the widows, something he just couldn’t get out of his mind. We put him in charge of putting something together that would bring some discipline to our approach, particularly so that no one would fall through the cracks of our care. 

Soon we had a list of all the widows in the church. There were 35. I was surprised at how many there were. Then an elder and a deacon interviewed each one: how are you doing? What do you need? How can we help? 

We were all surprised at what we learned. 

We expected to find financial need; that was certainly a primary concern in Paul’s day. There may have been a concern or two in our congregation, but for the most part that was not a problem. They told us that their husbands had had life insurance, and they had enough to live on. Some, in fact, were in better shape financially than they had been when their husbands were alive. 

But that is not to say there were no needs. You know what they told us? 

“We need purpose. We need to be needed. We need something to do, a reason to get up in the morning. We need to belong.” 

Wow. 

Two thoughts struck me immediately. 

First, we were completely uninformed, misinformed, on the situation in our own church. It was nothing like we thought. 

And second, how could we have missed such a serious need? 

We took immediate action. We asked the widows to come up with ideas on how they could organize and serve. That would address both the need to belong and the need to be needed. 

And their first idea surprised us. They suggested that they clean the houses of new mothers. 

I’ll confess that I wasn’t too keen on that idea. Widows are often, um, older than the population median, and were they up to it? Physical labor? 

Well, it turns out that living that long helps give a person good sense, and they were wise enough not to take on tasks that would be too much for them. And their time with the new moms gave them opportunity to share mothering wisdom with the first-timers, and they delighted in the chance to hold the newborns and marvel over their little fingers and toes. 

It was a win all around. Listening to people, and trusting their good sense and creativity, is a good thing. 

I suspect that widows’ ministry will look a little different in every church, but we can be sure that we will give account to whether we have attended to that need. 

Do you know what happened next? 

That elder? The one with the burden? He died, and his wife became a widow. And she stepped right into a ministry that was ready to help her with grief support, and a need to be needed. Eventually she became the de facto leader of that widows’ ministry, until she remarried some years later. 

Isn’t providence good? 

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On Discipline, Part 5: Mentors 

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Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action | Part 3: Dependence | Part 4: Thought 

One more item in Paul’s list of areas we should give attention to and discipline: 

Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you (Php 4.9). 

He encourages the believers in Philippi—a church that he planted—to imitate his example, to follow his practices. These days we call such a person a mentor, and those who imitate him proteges. 

Some people might find this surprising. Isn’t this arrogant of Paul—especially since Christ is the only perfect example? 

Good point. And as it happens, Paul says that himself elsewhere: 

Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ (1Co 11.1). 

He’s clearly not placing his value as an example above that of Christ. 

I’ll note that Paul’s exhortation here indicates that he has been careful to set the kind of example that the Philippians should follow. He’s been helped in that, certainly by the fact that he’s an apostle, guided by the Spirit into all truth (Jn 16.13).  

Slight sidetrack: Many interpreters would apply Jn 16.13 to all believers. I don’t, because I know that I’m not guided into all truth, and as I tell my students, I have written documentation in a file cabinet in my office that they are not guided into all truth either. I think this is a promise to the apostles that they would be inerrant in their reporting of Jesus’ life and teachings—their proclamation of the gospel. This of course would come to us through the New Testament. But since only three men in the room in John 16 wrote any New Testament, I’m also inclined to believe that the rest of the apostles, though not sinless (Ga 2.11), were inerrant in their preaching—which makes Luke’s description of the Bereans all the more remarkable (Ac 17.11; but cf 1Th 2.13). 

But to return. 

Paul here encourages the Philippians to imitate his example. 

Might this exhortation have broader significance? Should we, two millennia after Paul’s death, imitate him too? It occurs to me that we’ll have a harder time doing so, since we can’t see Paul’s example in his day-to-day life, as the Philippians did. But there are certainly a good many things we can know about him, and those things we can imitate. 

But to go a step further. Can we take Paul’s words as a general endorsement of the concept of mentorship? There are a good many Christian books on discipleship that do just that, and I don’t see a reason to disagree with them. Paul’s teaching on spiritual gifts seems to imply strongly that all believers should sit under gifted teachers and should live exemplary lives before their church assemblies. 

So, I would suggest, we can all benefit from following the examples of exemplary believers. (The apparent redundancy there is intentional and is not actually redundant.) And Paul’s words here in verse 9 indicate that we should be careful whom we choose. 

I suppose it could go without saying that we should choose as models those who follow Christ well, consistently, carefully, graciously. We should choose them not because they’re popular, or good-looking, or socially adept. We should recognize something of the character of Christ in them and then seek to integrate that character trait into our own thinking and lifestyle. We should ask them questions, and we should listen to the answers. 

I suppose it’s worthwhile to insert a caution here. 

You and I are not called to be anybody else. God has made us all different, and he has gifted us to serve in ways that are the sum of our DNA, our upbringing, our experiences, our sanctification, and yes, our gifting. I’ve known Christians who want desperately to be just like somebody they admire, and those efforts always end in disappointment. We’re called to be ourselves, remade in the image of Christ. 

But we ought to follow examples, carefully chosen, in our lifelong journey to be like Christ. 

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On Discipline, Part 4: Thought 

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Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action | Part 3: Dependence 

The next area of discipline in Paul’s list is likely the toughest one for many people. 

 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things (Php 4.8). 

Here Paul calls for mental discipline: controlling what you think about. 

This is tough. 

We’re not used to that in our culture, and in recent years it’s only getting more difficult. We naturally tend to think about whatever pops into our head. Most often those things pop in from our daily circumstances—conversations, assigned tasks, and so on. Many of those things we don’t control; they just show up, and we think about them. 

But with the rise of social media, we’re being conditioned against mental discipline. Social media posts scroll by, and we think about them for 5 or 10 seconds, and we move on. We’re passive consumers of mental stimulation; it’s all up to the algorithms, and our thoughtful choices have nothing to do with what’s being poured into our brain bucket. There’s no discipline or self-control whatsoever; it’s just random dopamine hits. 

Yikes. 

But it gets worse. Neurological research indicates that the more we engage in this kind of media surfing, the less thinking we’re able to do; our brain rewires itself for “fast-twitch” thinking rather than long-form consideration of more complex ideas. If a paragraph consists of more than 9 or 10 lines, we’re not going to consume it thoughtfully; eventually we’ll just skip it altogether. (How many of the issues that we deal with in modern society can we think through in 5 or 10 seconds? We’re being conditioned against wisdom.) 

For more information on this concept, I highly recommend Nicholas Carr’s The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains. He brings serious research to the question. 

In this pervasively “fast-twitch” environment, we’re going to find it harder than ever to follow Paul’s admonition. In a culture where many people have no mental discipline, directing your thought anywhere in particular, let alone to specific areas, is going to seem strange and foreign. 

I’d suggest some practical things: 

  • Read, regularly and repeatedly. Of course, believers should read their Bibles as their primary source of spiritual nutrition. But any long-form reading will strengthen your mental discipline. (And no, the closed captions on movies are not long-form reading.) 
  • Memorize Scripture. Memorization requires repeated review (I have a system, and I hope you do too), which will enable you to bring to mind biblical content whenever you have some mental free time—while driving, walking, standing in line, and so on. 
  • Approach casual conversations thoughtfully. Sure, small talk has its place; but if your conversations at church are all about football or politics, they could use some discipline. Direct conversations to substantial things. “How can I pray for you?” is one way to start. 
  • Use “down time” thoughtfully. While you’re waiting to fall asleep at night, direct your thoughts. 

Paul includes here a list of things to think about. I’m not sure detailed word studies on each term are what he’s after; the list could be more of a random collection of examples than a to-do list. I doubt that once you’ve thought about his list of 8 things, he’d say you’re done. Think about anything excellent; think about anything praiseworthy. Think on purpose. 

Again, this is hard. We like to let our thoughts go wherever they take us. But they do take us places, and while “the power of positive thinking” isn’t a magical formula for personal success—“if you can believe it, you can achieve it!”—the way we think does make a difference in the progress and outcome of our living. It certainly makes a difference in our spiritual success, our sanctification. 

Think on these things. 

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On Discipline, Part 3: Dependence 

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Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action

Paul now turns to a third area where we need discipline:

6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Php 4.6-7).

People come in all varieties. Some are pretty self-confident; they think they can deal with whatever comes down the pike. Don’t need any help, thanks. I got this.

But if the truth be known, even those people worry. They think about how they’re going to deal with this issue or that, and even though they don’t want to ask anybody else for help, they still spend time on the mental merry-go-round, trying to figure out the next step.

And for others, it’s even more difficult. Worry becomes anxiety, and fear dominates their thinking.

This is the human condition.

And if we humans are merely the peak of evolutionary development, with no one higher to look to, then we’re doomed to a lifetime of anxiety.

But we’re not, and we’re not.

There is a higher throne. And Paul points us there.

Don’t worry about anything, he says.

What? Don’t worry about where the rent’s coming from? About progressive degenerative disease? About broken relationships? About societal ills? About nuclear holocaust?

That’s just crazy.

No, my friend. It’s crazy only if we’re all there is.

But there is a God, and he is infinite, eternal, and unchangeable in being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth. And further, he loves us, and he invites us to bring our anxieties to him and leave them there.

He can provide the rent money, and grace to face the physical ravages of time, and relational healing, and societal peace. And he can prevent nuclear holocaust, in his good will.

Bring your requests.

I note that Paul returns to his earlier theme of thanksgiving, or rejoicing. How can we be thankful even as we recount our troubles at the throne?

Because God hears, and he responds, and always in a way that is good and wise, wiser even than the “solutions” we can suggest to him. Beyond all that we can ask or think.

Paul follows his imperative with a promise. If we’ll do what he says, then God will bring peace to our troubled hearts—peace, he says, that surpasses all understanding.

I used to think that that meant that it’s so wonderful that we can’t understand it. But I don’t think that’s it. It surpasses understanding; when our understanding has taken us as far as it can, and it runs out of gas, the peace of God takes over and keeps us going, as far as we need to go. We find that we don’t need to know it all, to understand everything that God is doing. We know him, we trust him, and we just keep going.

Paul adds one last thought. This peace he says, is not passive; it’s active. And the verb he chooses is instructive: it guards our hearts and minds. You know, that place where the anxiety comes from? The wellspring of all our fears? The peace of God stands as a sentinel at the door, muscular and armed, and it denies entry to the dangerous stuff.

So we have a choice.

We can give in to the anxiety, trying to work things out for ourselves, despite the fact that there are all kinds of things that we don’t know and can’t do.

Or we can trust the sentinel standing outside the door of our hearts, as we work diligently and wisely during the day and sleep well at night.

That shouldn’t be a difficult decision.

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On Discipline, Part 2: Action 

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Part 1: Perspective 

Here in Philippians 4, we’re surveying a list of areas that we ought to discipline as we live out our faith in Christ. In the previous post, we noted that we should discipline our perspective to be joyful, rejoicing in whatever comes our way (Php 4.4). We turn now to the second Item in Paul’s list. 

 Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand (Php 4.5). 

You may know that the KJV renders the key word “moderation.” There’s great breadth in the various reliable versions: “gentle spirit” (NASB), “graciousness” (CSB), “gentleness” (NIV). The standard Greek lexicon (BDAG) suggests “yielding, gentle, kind, courteous, tolerant.” I think we get the idea. There seems to be general idea of others-centeredness, of unselfishness, of lesser concern with one’s own rights than for the rights or needs—or even desires—of others. 

Paul says this characteristic of ours should “be known to everyone.” How does that happen? Well, practically speaking, it can happen only when this is our default—whatever we do, in whatever circumstances, with whatever kinds of people, we’re gentle, kind, courteous, tolerant. This is just the way we always act. 

That’s a tough order. It’s easy for most of us to be kind and cordial with people we like, or those who are first kind to us. But the situation is very different when someone is rude, or hostile, or childish, or self-centered. It is not my inclination, or yours, to be kind or courteous in those situations. 

How often do we see that kind of spirit in operation in our culture? How often, rather, do we see some people mocking those they disagree with—“libtards” or “snowflakes” or “RINOs” or “MAGAs”? How often do we ourselves engage in that kind of mocking and ridicule? 

Oh, but in my case it’s justified, you see, because that idiot deserved it, because he was rude to me first, or he’s a tool of the deep state, or he’s a threat to democracy. Or he’s just stupid.

Oh, no, my friend. Let your gentle default mode of action be known to everyone. There are no riders or qualifiers there. 

Let me suggest that our current polarized culture presents us with a rare opportunity to have our calm, gentle, kindness stand out from the angry, pugilistic, chaotic background of polarization and rage. When everyone is running to and fro, the one who’s sitting calmly amidst the chaos reading a book stands out; he’s impossible to miss. And in our culture the simplest act of kindness, the slightest evidence of care and attention, screams louder than all the surrounding noise. 

What a way to make a difference. What a way to be an ambassador. 

Paul’s seals the importance of this discipline with a terse observation: “The Lord is near.” 

To what is he referring here? 

The word near here is a common word, one that can refer to either time or space. 

  • Is he saying that the Lord is spatially near, as in omnipresent? “O be careful little mouth what you say”? 
  • Or that he is temporally near: coming back soon? “O, can we say we are ready, brother”? 

In his epistles Paul uses the word in both senses (Ep 2.13; Ro 13.11). In Jesus’ teaching he tends to use the word temporally, mostly because he’s frequently teaching about the nearness of his Coming. But when he says, “The Kingdom of God is at hand,” is it possible that he means to imply both? 

I don’t see a reason to restrict the word here to either sense; either or both can serve as motivation for us to do better at this.  

  • The Lord is indeed near us, both as a deterrent to sin and as a source of power for victory. In ourselves we cannot live this way consistently, but our God is near to us. 
  • The Lord is indeed coming soon, to deliver us from all the frustrations that so vex us now. That means that as vexing as these confrontations are, they are temporary; and knowing that can relieve us of much of the pressure to collapse. 

Live out grace, kindness, courtesy. By default. To everybody—especially to the really challenging everybodies. 

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On Discipline, Part 1: Perspective 

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No, I’m not referring to child-rearing, but to how we discipline ourselves. It’s a truism that if you aim at nothing, you’ll certainly hit it. Pretty much everybody understands that you have to set goals, and then persist in pursuing them, in order to accomplish anything worthwhile. 

There’s a whole industry of advisors, people who are happy to coach you on making the best of life—whether on the secular side or on the spiritual. Reading these works discerningly and thoughtfully can be highly profitable. 

More reliably, though, the Scripture addresses this topic extensively. A series of blog posts is not the place for a comprehensive survey of the biblical theology of personal discipline, but it’s reasonable to focus on a single passage that concentrates on the idea. 

I find such a passage in Philippians 4. It’s a concise presentation, and a familiar one; many Christians have memorized the passage, or at least parts of it. In verses 4-9, I find a list of five aspects of our lifestyle—what the King James translators called “conversation”—that we ought to discipline in certain ways. Lord willing, I’ll devote a post to each of the five. 

The section opens with Paul’s goal for his (and our) perspective: 

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice (Php 4.4). 

Our view of things, he says, should be consistently joyful. 

Several things to note about that. 

First, this is Paul writing. He has not had an easy life; as he has already noted in this short epistle, he has sacrificed early professional success to follow Jesus (Php 3.4-11), and a few years earlier he has listed for the church in Corinth a litany of hardship (2Co 11.23-29). Even as he writes these words, he is under house arrest in Rome, waiting for a hearing before Caesar that threatens capital punishment. He is not speaking platitudes. 

Second, he is writing to Philippi, a church founded out of a night in prison, an earthquake, and government opposition (Ac 16.13-40). He is about to say that this church has already given sacrificially to support his ministry from a distance (Php 4.16). There is nothing flippant or casual about what he is asking them to do. 

Rejoice, he says. No, I really mean it, he repeats. 

And furthermore, rejoice all the time. 

Rejoice in the good times; rejoice in the bad. Rejoice in success; rejoice in failure. 

Rejoice in house arrest. Rejoice in the inner prison. 

Interestingly, Paul lives that out. He has already written here that his arrest has yielded good things (Php 1.12-14), and he will go on to say that there are now saints in Caesar’s household (Php 4.22)—though we don’t know whether they became saints as a direct result of his appeal to Caesar. 

Now for the fifty-dollar question—how does he do it? How does Paul rejoice in the midst of suffering and injustice greater than you (probably) or I have ever experienced? And by extension, how are we to “rejoice … always”? 

The ellipsis provides the answer: “rejoice in the Lord always.” 

There’s a lot packed into that tiny prepositional phrase. 

What does it mean to “rejoice in the Lord”? 

At its purest, it means simply to rejoice in God himself—who he is, and what he does. Meditation on him brings great delight. 

But God knows that we are dust, and he understands that we are consistently motivated by self-interest. He graciously works benefits to us, in which we can then rejoice. The blessings of salvation are profitable topics for meditation, as are answers to prayer. (Sidebar: if you don’t pray much, or at all, you’re depriving yourself of the joy that comes from seeing prayers answered.) The confidence that comes from following his will, even through valleys (Ps 23.4), is reason to rejoice. It’s a great gift to know that, really, everything’s going to be OK, and the hard times will eventuate in great good. 

So our first step of discipline, according to this passage, is in our perspective: we discipline ourselves to see all things as causes for rejoicing. 

This is life-changing. 

More next time. 

Photo by Dave Lowe on Unsplash

Worth It, Part 5: Making It Worth It

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Part 1: The Greatest Cause | Part 2: The Greatest Consequences | Part 3: Another Greatest Consequence | Part 4: The Greatest Cost

Paying a price in suffering for belonging to Jesus is to be expected, and it’s well worth it, for multiple reasons.

So how do we proceed? How do we prepare for the hardships that will likely come along the way?

There are two sections of this passage that address this question. The first is in verses 13 through 17; the second is in verse 22. This is where the passage becomes largely imperative. How does Peter command us to prepare for the opposition and suffering that so often come to God’s people?

  • Get serious (1P 1.13a). Peter’s metaphor, “gird up the loins of your mind,” means simply to get ready to get to work. And with that comes the command to “be sober,” or serious. This is serious business; we don’t approach it as something trivial or a sideline issue. This is focused on the coming “revelation” of Jesus Christ himself. The New Bible Commentary comments, “This phrase pictures not so much the return of one who is absent as the unveiling of one who has been with us all the time” (p 1375). As Daniel’s three friends can testify, God is with us in the fire. We face it with serious determination.
  • Take the long view (1P 1.13b). To “hope to the end” is to be focused on a confident expectation of a positive outcome, and an endurance until it comes. This means, of course, that you focus not on the trial, but on Christ, who has sent the trial and who is using it to accomplish his good purposes. As they say, keep your eyes on the prize.
  • Reject the past (1P 1.14). You’ve already turned away from the sins that defined your life before salvation; now don’t go back. Remember Lot’s wife.
  • Cross the line (1P 1.15-16). You’ve left those old ways to join a new team—or to put it more bluntly and biblically, to become God’s servant and son or daughter. You’ve changed sides; you’re over here now, and you’re not going back; so identify clearly and publicly with your new Master, and take whatever hardship comes.
  • Stay serious (1P 1.17). This is a new life, and a lifelong commitment. You’re in for the long haul. So plan to stay on this path, in this relationship, committed to the lifestyle, all the way to the end. Peter says to pass the time “in fear.” Not cowering, defensive, expecting blows and punishment from a master who despises and abuses you—that was the old master, not this one. But rather reverently, delighted with God’s awesomeness, and determined not to think, do, or say anything that that would disappoint or misrepresent him.
  • Live out love (1P 1.22). Your new relationship involves more than just God—though he would be more than enough. He has placed you into the body of Christ, the church. And bodies have multiple parts, useful for different purposes, which all work together to accomplish the goals of the head. We’re teammates in the largest project ever conceived. So we cherish one another, help one another, encourage one another, support one another. Peter will develop this concept more in the next paragraph, which is also the next chapter and thus a different series. Which you can read here.

Maybe we’ll face persecution like that faced by the ancient saints, and by our brothers and sisters in other parts of the world. Maybe we won’t. But we’re not promised immunity, and we should be prepared should it come. We make that preparation now, before the time. And as we prepare we determine, with absolute certainty, that whatever hardships may come, the cause is Worth It.

Photo by Jose P. Ortiz on Unsplash