Faith, in Christian terms, isn't fundamentally about us

After beginning with a short salutation, the first Epistle of Peter proceeds with an opening statement, which, in its original Greek, is only one sentence. It’s difficult to render this grammatical form verbally, but it’s very important that all of what was written is understood to be one, single thought, contained as it is between an initial capital letter and, finally, a concluding period. Allow me to read it in full.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! -- By his great mercy we have been born anew to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and to an inheritance which is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. -- In which you rejoice, though now for a little while you may have to suffer various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith, more precious than gold, which, though perishable is tested by fire, may redound to praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. -- Without having seen him, you love him; though you do not now see him you believe in him and rejoice with unutterable and exalted joy. -- As the outcome of your faith you obtain the salvation of your souls. -- The prophets who prophesied of the grace that was to be yours searched and inquired about this salvation; they inquired what person or time was indicated by the spirit of Christ within them when predicting the sufferings of Christ and the subsequent glory. -- It was revealed to them that they were serving not themselves, but you, in the things which have now been announced to you by those who preached the Good News to you through the Holy Spirit sent from heaven, things into which angels long to look.”

Nine verses, one sentence. One thought. One single, but comprehensive proclamation. This, according to Peter, is the short version of Christianity, the first and smallest of steps in. How much of it do you remember? It’s the briefest of thumbnail sketches.

At the risk of doing some damage to its evident beauty and power, let me put this into more mundane language, something more like our own vernacular. Here is the same sentence again.

It is possible for us to give thanks to God because, by his own grace, shown in Jesus Christ, we have been afforded eternal life, which we may realize, in part, in our lives even now, just as we yearn for its full disclosure at a time that is yet to come. -- This promise does not erase the problems of the world nor does it resolve the difficulties we personally suffer. -- Faith does not protect us from trouble or guarantee us any prosperity; but it reveals how it is that love endures and goodness perseveres, through all things, even death. -- Seeing this in Jesus, in the testimony of the Scriptures, we have every reason to rejoice and to be glad in all of life, and this indomitable joy is what salvation means. -- This is not a dream or a fantasy, a wish that floats about without foundation. -- It has been a revelation slowly wrung out of the experience of generations. -- Its richness is mirrored by the costs incurred by all those who waited upon God, who looked for relief and redemption, who prayed for the advent of a Savior. -- Often, they searched in vain or looked in the wrong direction for precisely the wrong solution. -- Their missteps are our gift. -- They didn’t gain anything for themselves; they provided everything for us. -- From them, we have learned how we can say that Jesus is God’s Messiah, how, in him, all of the brokenness of history is not left strewn and scattered, but comes to fruition. -- Because of their witness, it is possible, too, for us to fold our own lives into this completeness – for God’s intentions are definite and his actions are specific. -- Having come to us as an individual within the world, we may trust that we, as individuals, are no less included within his mercy and his fervent compassion. -- This is a love of such magnificence, so marvelously extended to us, that even the angels yearn, too, for this kind of communion and intimacy.

One sentence. One beginning thought. What is striking about Peter’s sentence is its vast difference from what many take Christianity to be today. As far as I know, his simple statement doesn’t appear any T-shirts, and it certainly wouldn’t fit on a bumper sticker. It’s not reducible to a motto. Somehow, the proclamation, “My boss is a Jewish carpenter,” just doesn’t have the same impact or meaning.

For a while, the code letters WWJD were all the fashion: Christianity in an acronym – “what would Jesus do.” But, the more closely you read Peter’s text, the more it becomes clear that WWJD isn’t really an issue at all. It can’t be found anywhere, neither in Peter’s words nor, however vaguely, between the lines.

This week several stories ran about a Christian web site on which people could post anonymous but public confessions. It’s great reading for the prurient. In a coinciding interview, the founding minister explained the site by noting that confession is the first necessary step if you want to be successful in life. Wealth, he said, follows truth. But Peter didn’t say this either, neither directly nor indirectly. Nor did he suggest that along with faith comes a two stall garage and the cars to fill it, or great kids who will be accepted into the best colleges, or the house of one’s dreams, or the luck of the draw in a local poker game. In actuality, if you read his testimony a hundred times, you will still be unable to find any claim that God’s promise will make your life better materially. Faith is not a way to manipulate God into being advantageously on your side, suddenly bestowing extra benefits, no matter how many ingenious slogans are generated and slick marketing campaigns are conducted advocating exactly this. In spite of the popular talk in the American church, there is no quid pro quo in religion. God offers no prizes and grants no rewards, and faithfulness doesn’t lead to divine favors. Such talk is mercenary and grossly petty. I call it evangelical profanity, because it sullies what is holy.

If we listen closely to the text, faith, in Christian terms, isn’t fundamentally about us or about our condition or our particular circumstances. It isn’t even, primarily, about our faith. It is God who is faithful – who is faithful to us – and thus the worship of the church is rather, and far differently, our celebration of our inclusion in a love so broad that all the time of history is required to bring it to light. It is possible for us to perceive our own lives, not within the limited scope of the years we are given, but, more profoundly, as absolutely intrinsic to God’s eternal kingdom and infinite goodness. It is not (as many fervently declare) that God is for us and, therefore, must be against those others against whom we struggle. The truth that we are invited to see, with ever greater perspicuity, works in the opposite direction. It is that our lives are our participation in the glory of God, a glory that stretches from alpha to omega, that connects us, then, deeply, with all that was and all that will be, and that, as we profess each Sunday, in the fullness of time God will gather all the world together in reconciliation and wholeness.

This is all a long preface to understanding Paul’s concluding words from his letter to the Ephesians, which we have heard this morning. They make the same claim, and it is extraordinarily timely. “We are not contending against other human beings,” he stated. We are not contending against other human beings! Religion is not morality or politics writ large – especially when we are instructed to love even our enemies. The true foe is greater than any instance of evil or injustice. And here even Paul, the brilliant rhetorician, struggles for words. The battle is not with us, reduced to stupid debates about who’s in and who’s out. The battle is God’s alone, against “the powers and principalities and the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places,” against the deep shadow side of our world that beguiles us. And our calling, then, in the light of God’s own victory in Christ, is not to further divide an already fractious world with misguided attempts to determine who has been saved and who has not. Paul gives us a very different mission. It is, primarily, to stand fast, to live in the integrity of God’s assurance. “Let the shoes on your feet be the gospel of peace,” he said. In our present time, amid all the inflammatory words thrown about, aren’t these more important than all the rest: “Let the shoes on your feet be the gospel of peace!” Don’t be tempted into thinking that the fight is yours, Paul warns. The fight is already won, good news to which we are privileged to be witnesses, as people who may already live clothed in the grace that is God’s.

The drive of our world now seems to be an intensely restless desire for division and polarization, accomplished most severely in the name of religion. But this is not our message in any manner. Ours is, rather, to touch the truth of eternity within the time of our own lives, an eternity that gathers and redeems and loses nothing of all that was or is or will be. If we are to speak boldly, this is the only boldness with which we may speak.