May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer, Amen
 
How would you like to be known as someone’s hope, joy, crown of exultation and glory? Last week we looked at Paul’s introductory words to the believers at Thessalonica, where he commended their work of faith, their labor of love and their steadfastness of hope. Now he heaps on these additional heart-warming accolades: hope, joy, crown of exultation and glory. We see a picture of a group of persons who, having accepted the Gospel message of Jesus Christ despite severe persecution, were so sold-out to their faith that they had become examples to believers wherever word of their faith had spread.

In today’s epistle reading, we get a further glimpse into what price the Thessalonians were paying to receive such praise. And there’s more to come. Paul lets us in on several things relating to his initial ministry among them and their response to it, words that fill in some of the blanks in the historical record that we find in Acts chapter 17. Paul had embarked on the second of his three missionary journeys, accompanied this time by Silas (also known as Silvanus) and his son in the faith, Timothy. They had set out more or less to visit and strengthen some of the churches Paul had established on his first missionary journey in what we call Asia Minor, or modern-day Turkey.

But God had a different plan, giving Paul what we call his “Macedonian vision.” In that vision Paul saw a man in Macedonia, north of Greece, imploring him to change his route and come instead to plant churches in that region. And so, in obedient response, Paul and his two companions headed off to Philippi, an important city in the northeast corner of Macedonia, where the opposition to which Paul refers in our reading was so strong that they ended up in jail. There they prayed and sang a hymnfest until an earthquake freed them from their chains and opened the prison doors, with the providential result that the jailer and his entire household came to faith.

From there they went to Thessalonica, the capital city of Macedonia, where they made converts from both the Jews and the Gentiles. But once again there was opposition from the Jewish leaders, with their host, Jason, being dragged before the city authorities and Paul, Silas and Timothy having to escape to Berea, where again there was a reprise of nearly the same scene. Finally, after ministry in Athens that included Paul’s famous address on Mars Hill known as the Areopagitica, they went on to Corinth, where Paul stayed for a year and a half and wrote both of his letters to the Thessalonians.

That’s the historical and geographical thumbnail sketch of how we got to this letter of Paul, praising the Thessalonians for their extraordinary response to the Gospel against fierce odds. It helps us to understand why Paul was so justifiably proud of them. And it also helps us to see why a major theme of this epistle is the Second Coming of Messiah, the return of Jesus Christ, a subject that is addressed at least briefly in all 5 chapters of I Thessalonians. These believers yearned with all their hearts for Christ’s return to end their persecution and to establish His eternal Kingdom.
 
As we’ve seen, the Thessalonian church, like most of Paul’s churches, had a mixed population. There were Jewish converts to whom Paul had first ministered for three Sabbaths after arriving in Thessalonica. We must remember that Paul described the Gospel, of which he was unashamed, as being “the power of God for salvation to the Jew first and then also to the Gentile” (Romans 1:16). There also were Gentile converts in Thessalonica who Paul says had “turned from idols to serve a living and true God.” He adds, significantly, that they all were now waiting for God’s Son to return from heaven, the One Whom God had raised from the dead, through Whom they were rescued “from the wrath to come.” Therein lies a lot of implied eschatology, that is, teaching about the end times, though for the moment Paul is content only to allude to it. Further development is deferred until the final two chapters, which we’ll study in the weeks to come. But in concluding chapter two Paul again refers to the Second Coming simply by saying that when it does occur, these Thessalonian believers will be his crown of exultation, his glory and joy.

Clearly the Resurrection, the Second Coming of Jesus and the Last Judgment all were taught by Paul during his rather brief ministry among the Thessalonians. Apparently Paul crammed a lot of catechesis into the weeks he was there, going beyond what we expect to hear today after years of attendance in our churches. The early Christians seem to have been eager to go deeper into the things that we now tend to relegate to theologians and seminarians. Paul told the believers in the church at Ephesus that he had “not hesitated to proclaim to them the whole counsel of God” (Acts 20:27). I imagine his sermons were rather longer than mine; but he made no apologies as long as he was convinced that he was indeed sharing with them “the whole counsel of God.”

There’s nothing in the Gospel message that we should discard as being too difficult or too challenging. Quite the contrary, we should treasure every morsel of divine truth that God has chosen to reveal to us. There are good reasons why we refer to this as “special revelation,” and we should consider ourselves to be the most privileged of all persons because God has chosen to reveal so much of His eternal truth to our finite minds.

There are a few other profoundly important things embedded in these verses that we shouldn’t miss. Paul places his own ministry to the Thessalonians not only in the context of persecution but also in terms of his divine commissioning, his having been “approved by God to be entrusted with the Gospel.” I’ve mentioned before that this very phrase is the motto of Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, where I did my first seminary studies: “approved by God to be entrusted with the Gospel.”

I want to expand on this just a bit this morning by way of personal testimony. One of the concerns expressed by members of the Commission on Ministry, when they were charged with either moving me forward for ordination or dismissing me from the entire process, was whether I viewed myself as transferring my leadership skills as a musician to my ministry as a priest in Christ’s one holy catholic and apostolic Church. If they had remained convinced that this was the case, they were poised to shut down the process at once. And they would have been right to have done so! But this was so far from my mind that I found the questions I kept being asked to be jarring and puzzling. Frankly, I’m absolutely certain that the Apostle Paul would have been just as disconcerted as I. Writing later on to the Corinthians, Paul asked, “Who is adequate for these things? For we are not like many, peddlers of the Word of God; rather from sincerity, as from God, we speak before God, in Christ” (II Corinthians 2:16b, 17).

Conducting Handel’s Messiah is one thing. Speaking about Messiah “from God, before God, in Christ” is something radically different. And the answer to Paul’s question is simple: no one is “adequate for these things.” Paul goes on to say, “we have our confidence toward God through Christ. Not that we are adequate in ourselves to consider anything as coming from ourselves, but our adequacy is from God, Who alone made us adequate as servants of the new covenant” (II Corinthians 2:4-6a, slightly paraphrased).

There you have it in a Pauline nutshell: God Himself overcomes our hopeless inadequacy by His grace so that, returning to I Thessalonians, we may be “approved by God to be entrusted with the Gospel. “So,” writes Paul, “we speak, not as pleasing men, but God, Who examines our hearts” (2:4). Only then, as Paul later wrote to his companion Timothy, can we “be diligent to present ourselves approved to God as workmen who do not need to be ashamed, accurately handling the Word of truth” (II Timothy 2:15).  

Again, “our adequacy is from God,” or we must acknowledge ourselves to be woefully inadequate for these things. And when Paul says that he had not come to the Thessalonians with “flattering speech” or “with a pretext for greed” (2:5), he adds “God is our witness,” the “God who examines our hearts” (2:4). With God, there is no room for pretext or, as Paul writes in verse 3, for “error, impurity or deceit.”

What exactly was Paul’s message to these new converts in Thessalonica? Of course we don’t get a full transcript of his messages or even as full a summary as we get for some of the sermons recorded in the book of Acts. Sadly, none of Paul’s sermons was recorded or posted on the internet. But Paul gives us ample allusions to the content of his preaching. First of all he makes it clear that it was not about himself. He says in verse 6 that he was not seeking any “glory from men,” but that he was as gentle among them as a nursing mother tenderly caring for her own children. What a beautiful bit of imagery for how a pastor should relate to his flock! What a challenge for anyone who assumes that role! But Paul says that rather than puffing himself up to them, he simply shared “the Gospel of God,” the effect of which was to turn Gentiles away from their idols while also convincing some Jews that Jesus of Nazareth was their Messiah.

The Thessalonians seem to have been among those who were the most receptive and responsive to the Gospel message that Paul shared with them. And it’s for that very reason that Paul could lavish on them his beautiful words of praise. They had earned the right to be called Paul’s “hope, joy, crown of exultation and glory.” And in the process they had become “an example in every place that their faith toward God had gone forth” (1:7, 8), including to us at Grace Anglican Fellowship 2,000 years later.

May we learn to strive with all our might to be worthy of the Gospel with which we’ve been “approved by God to be entrusted.” Being entrusted with the Gospel is our extraordinary privilege. But it’s also our weighty responsibility, because it’s ours to share with others wherever we go, not to be kept to ourselves. Paul told Timothy to be ready to “preach the Word... in season and out of season” (II Timothy 4:2). Apparently there’s no season for not sharing the Gospel. We should take our stand with Paul as those who are not ashamed of the Gospel. Sharing it should be our primary task and our great joy.

May we be faithful to do that, to proclaim the Good News, always and only to the glory of God the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Grace Anglican Fellowship, Rev.  Father Alan Heatherington homily, Oct. 22, 2017:  I Thessalonians 1:1-10

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer
​What does it mean to be “a New Testament Christian?” Last Sunday we considered the 4-pronged formula Paul gave in Philippians 4 for living an abundant and victorious Christian life: 1) always rejoicing in the Lord; 2) replacing anxiety with prayer and thanksgiving; 3) dwelling on the positives, that is, things that are true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, of good repute, of excellence and worthy of praise; and 4) learning to be content regardless of our circumstances.  Today, in his letter to the church at Thessalonica, Paul writes some of the most glowing words of commendation that he ever penned to any of his churches. The Thessalonians appear to have been persons who modeled Christian living at its best. He writes that they have become “an example to all the believers, not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but also in every place (where their) faith toward God had gone forth, so that (he had) no need to say anything.” Of course this is Paul writing, and it turns out that he had rather a lot to say: things about his suffering and shameful mistreatment at Philippi, things about the Thessalonians’ eager acceptance of his Gospel message, words about how to walk and please God even more, and instruction about the return of Christ and the Day of the Lord.

But first Paul offers these amazing commendations in words that would rejoice the hearts of God’s people anywhere. Just the three things he mentions in verse 3 would be enough to trigger what our Jewish friends call “kvelling,” swelling up with justified pride and gratitude. Paul praises their “work of faith,” their “labor of love” and their “steadfastness of hope,” all of which are rooted in “our Lord Jesus Christ in the presence of our God and Father.” And it’s on this basis that Paul states his knowledge that they are “beloved by God” and chosen by Him. We think of the concluding words of Jesus in last week’s Gospel reading, “Many are called but few are chosen.” Paul can assert confidently that the Thessalonian believers are among God’s chosen, as evidenced and indeed proven by the fact that his “gospel did not come to (them) in word only, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction.”

Paul likes to state things in threes, and here we’ve had two such groupings: first the Thessalonians’ “work of faith, labor of love and steadfastness of hope,” then their reception of the Gospel message “in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction.” “Work of faith” is a very clear expression of Paul’s consistent teaching about faith. For Paul, while salvation required the articulation of core beliefs, faith itself was an active concept, so that “work of faith” could almost be heard as a redundancy. Faith, by its very nature, works. It works itself out. It expresses itself in action. Faith is not a Sunday morning thing where we gather together with persons who agree with us and then go our separate ways to live “normal” lives while waiting for our next time to be together. No, for Paul, faith is equated with the Christian’s way of life. The Latin Fathers picked up on this when they spoke of our “regula fidei,” our rule of faith, which is found in the creeds but lived out on a daily basis. The Thessalonians understood this concept and put it into practice in such a way that it provided an example “in every place (where their) faith toward God had gone forth.” It was not their doctrinal statement that was going forth; rather it was their faith in action, their “work of faith.”
 
Then Paul adds their “labor of love.” We could think that this was just a reinforcement of the first phrase, that “work of faith” and “labor of love” are basically the same thing. But to say that is to forget the things Paul so clearly expressed in I Corinthians 13, the great “love” chapter that is read at so many Christian weddings. There Paul writes that “if I have all faith so as to remove mountains but have not love, I am nothing” (v. 2). And he concludes, “So now abide faith, hope and love, these three; but the greatest of these is love” (v. 13). Paul makes this sharp distinction between faith and love. As Christians who call ourselves “evangelicals,” we need to take care that our pride in orthodox theology does not begin to take the place of our calling to be persons who live out the love of Jesus Christ in our everyday lives and witness. May the love of Jesus be seen in us as it was in the “labor of love” in which the Thessalonians engaged.

And third there’s the “steadfastness of hope,” something that suggests the believers at Thessalonica were living out their expectation of Christ’s return. In the final two chapters of this epistle Paul will give them some instruction about their hope and its proper foundations, twice exhorting them to encourage and build up each other with their forward-looking perspective. Paul was writing to the Thessalonians not more than 20 years after the Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus, and expectations remained high that His return was imminent. After telling his readers to encourage each other with those expectations, he adds that they already were doing so. Now 2,000 years have passed, and we rarely hear any mention of Christ’s return in the context of encouraging the faithful. The modern church is seldom likely to be commended for its “steadfastness of hope.” But from God’s perspective, from the perspective of eternity, the return of Messiah is just as imminent today as it was in 51 AD. And we should be living in that expectancy and encouraging one another with it. Christ is coming, and we pray always that it may be soon.

Then there’s the second trilogy in these verses, where Paul affirms that his preaching of the “gospel did not come to (them) in word only, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction.” “Power, the Holy Spirit and full conviction” form a compelling triad of ways to hear and live out the message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We often lament the lack of power in the Church today and its ever-diminishing influence in our secular culture. Yet we do so little individually to demonstrate the power of the Gospel. We leave it up to “the Church,” forgetting that we are the Church in this world. Institutions do not have power without people.

The power of the Gospel lies in the fact that it changes lives first and, only after that, changes societies. It’s been a long time in our country since the Christian faith has exercised spiritual power or has been instrumental in establishing a spiritual power base through which God’s Word can make a difference in the way we live, in the way our leaders govern and in the way we function in the world.

Former President Obama was right when he declared that America is no longer a Christian nation. We bristled when we heard him say that, and we wanted to claim that it was his own distorted opinion. But he was absolutely right. And who do we have to blame? Not Mr. Obama for his diagnostic skills. We have ourselves to blame, not just corporately but individually, because we have meekly surrendered our power base by failing to live our lives in the power of the Gospel.
 
Second there’s the Thessalonians’ reception of the Gospel in the Holy Spirit. Here Paul comes closer to a redundancy than he did when he juxtaposed “work of faith” with “labor of love.” For the believer, the Holy Spirit is the only true Source of our power.

Today we like to emphasize the power of personalities, bigger-than-life individuals who exercise power in ways that more often are frightening rather than inspiring. We see power as something that resides in governments and military might. The Church certainly is not an institution that springs to mind when we’re discussing power structures. There are still religious leaders who periodically raise their voices, but they’re not persons who wield any real power.

There was a time in the history of the Western world when the Church did indeed exercise power; but we all know how that went. The power that the Church is meant to exercise is not political power per se; rather, we are to exercise Holy Spirit power. Where is Holy Spirit power in the Church today? We tend either to ignore it or to fear it, worrying that the Holy Spirit just might make demands on our lives to which we remain fiercely resistant. If too much is required of us, we’re far more likely to run away than to submit. It’s the way we’re wired.

But that’s solely because our wiring is controlled by our society and our “old natures,” rather than by the Holy Spirit. We leave the Holy Spirit to “those charismatic people,” whose expressions of Christian faith are too “over the top” for us. But that’s very far away from the perspective of Jesus Himself and of all the New Testament writers. There is no single greater need in the Church today than Holy Spirit power. We could use more education, more theological acumen, more foundational truth, more faith, more love, better music. But what we need above all is Holy Spirit power, without which all the rest is without context and without real power. We need power, but we have a serious power outage in the Church.

Third and last, Paul mentions “full conviction.” I will confess before I say another word that this is by far the hardest one for me to address. I’m profoundly impressed by Paul’s unhesitating readiness to commend the Thessalonian believers for their “full conviction.” I would love nothing more than to be able to turn the calendar back 2,000 years and catch a plane to Thessalonica just to see what it was like to have a church filled with those who could be characterized as persons of full conviction.

Be really serious for a moment with me and, more importantly with yourselves, and ask yourselves how many Christians you know that are persons of “full conviction.” Let’s look first inside ourselves and ask whether we are persons of “full conviction.” What might our lives look like if we were? What differences would there be in the way we spend the rest of our time today after we leave this beautiful building? This is the Lord’s Day, and we tend to give Him as little of it as possible. We think that an hour and a half should be more than ample to appease the God Who gave His only Son for all of us, for our sins, for our redemption and for our eternal life with Him. What differences would there be in the way that you spend the next 6 days before you return here if your lives were driven by full conviction? If you were to walk out of here this morning saying that you would act as a believer governed and driven by full conviction, eagerly and routinely accessing the power of the Holy Spirit, fully engaged in the work of faith and the labor of love coupled with the steadfastness of hope, would your life be the same as it is right now? Seriously?

Why were the believers in the early Church so deeply committed to living out their faith? Why were they willing to risk martyrdom every day of their lives? Why did St. Iganatius, a disciple of the Apostle John whose feast day was this past Tuesday, eagerly embrace the likelihood that he would be fed to the lions in the Coliseum of Rome, as in fact he was? Why were the early Christians willing to leave everything behind to be followers of Jesus and proclaimers of the Gospel message? As Paul himself put it in personal terms, it was because the love of Christ constrained him. It compelled him. It controlled him. He said, “Woe is me if I preach not the Gospel” (I Corinthians 9:16).

What is the context of Paul’s statement that he was compelled by the love of Christ? Just listen to this verse from II Corinthians 5:

"For the love of Christ controls us, having concluded this, that He died for all, so that they who live might no longer live for themselves, but for Him Who died and rose again on their behalf" (v. 10).

What would it mean for us no longer to live for ourselves, but for Him Who died and rose again on our behalf? Every one of us would experience differences in our lives. We would experience for ourselves just what Paul goes on to say in the verses that follow:

Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, new things have come. Now all things are from God, Who reconciled us to Himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation, that is, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, and He has committed to us the ministry of reconciliation.

Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were making an appeal through us; God made Christ, Who knew no sin, to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him. (vss. 17-21, edited)

What does it mean for us to be “a new creation,” to be “ambassadors for Christ,” to be “the righteousness of God,” to live “no longer for ourselves?” It means everything. It means a life sold out to God and His work. It answers all the hypothetical questions we’ve just asked. The rest of today would be different. The next 6 days would be different. Your life would not be the same as it is today.

Do you really want to be a Thessalonian Christian, a New Testament Christian, the sort of Christian of whom Paul was so justifiably proud? Being a New Testament Christian is very different from being a 21st century Christian. It requires everything of you. But it’s what’s asked of all to whom God has committed the ministry of reconciliation. It’s what the love of Christ compels us to be and to do as His new creatures, as persons being re-made into the image of Christ, the One Who loved you and gave Himself for You. He asks you to give all of yourself in return. May we respond ever more fully to what He wants us to be, every moment of every day.

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen
 
Only to be what He wants me to be,
Every moment of every day,
Yielded completely to Jesus alone
Every step of this pilgrim way.
Just to be clay in the Potter's hands,
Ready to do what His Word commands
Only to be what He wants me to be,
Every moment of every day.

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord my Rock and my Redeemer

This morning’s Gospel reading picks up right where last week’s left off, with only a changed metaphor. Last week we had a landowner who sent his servants to check up on the tenant vine-growers, only to have his two groups of servants abused and killed. Then he sent his son, on the assumption that he would be respected. But he, too, was killed. We saw clearly that the servants represented the prophets sent by God to warn His people about the consequences of apostasy, idolatry and disobedience. Then He sent His only Son, Jesus Christ, Who, instead of being respected, was rejected and crucified.

Now we have a king who is throwing a wedding feast for his son, and he sends out his servants to round up the invited wedding guests with this simple and gracious summons: “Everything is ready; come to the wedding feast.” But once again, we have servants being mistreated and killed. Last week, the chief priests and Pharisees responded to the parable by saying that the owner of the vineyard should “bring those wretches to a wretched end, and rent out the vineyard to other vine-growers.” Today, the king sends out his armies to “destroy those murderers and set their city on fire.”

But then there’s a surprise twist: the king dispatches his servants, telling them to bring in the unexpectant guests, the uninvited guests, the unworthy guests, persons with whom the wedding hall soon became full. Did you get the “unworthy” part? Jesus says that the replacement guests were “both good and evil,” without distinction. It’s just as Paul wrote to the Romans: “The righteousness of God (is) through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe, for there is no distinction: for all have sinned and come short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:22b, 23). Sin is the great leveler that puts all of us on the same footing before God, whether we view ourselves as “good” or “evil.” The king invited both to the marriage feast of his son, and God invites “both good and evil” persons to the marriage feast of His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ.

But don’t fail to read and remember the final words of Jesus in this parable: “Many are called, but few are chosen.” There may be no distinction between the good and the evil, but there is a distinction between those who are called and those who are chosen. The first wave of wedding guests, those specially invited to the son’s wedding feast, were called, but refused to come. The second wave, people who were just “out in the streets,” accepted the invitation and were chosen to sit at the table of the king’s son. That’s what we do here every Sunday morning, and what we’ll do when Jesus returns for all who are His own: we will feast at the marriage supper of the Lamb. This is our foretaste, where we acknowledge His Real Presence and feast on all that He has given of Himself for us. Here is where we learn afresh what it means to be “in Christ.”

Now I know that some of you are waiting to see what I will say about the poor chap who showed up in the wrong clothes. You may be assured that you’re not the first persons to wonder about him, nor would you be the first to ask me about this demonstration of something so completely unfair. And you’re right to label this one of the most unfair things in all the teachings of Jesus; but that’s true only if you get trapped in the literal meaning of this person’s inappropriate clothing. It has absolutely nothing to do with his showing up in a tuxedo and a black tie when he should have worn tails and a white tie.

So what does it mean? The answer is simple: that those who are to share in the wedding feast of God’s Son, the Lamb of God Who takes away the sin of the world, the Lamb Who has mercy on us and grants us His peace, those persons will be dressed neither in tuxes nor in tails. Their only attire will be the righteousness of Christ in which we’re clothed for all eternity. Listen to this stunning snapshot in the Apostle John’s vision of the Lamb’s feast from Revelation 19:

“Hallelujah! For the Lord God omnipotent reigns. Let us rejoice and exult and give Him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready; it was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure”— for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints. And the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” And he said to me, “These are the true words of God” (Revelation 19:6b-9).

And what are these “righteous deeds of the saints”? We just heard the answer in Romans 3:22, “The righteousness of God is through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe.” Paul then adds in Romans 4, “to the one who does not work, but believes in Him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is credited as righteousness.” Only Jesus Himself can clothe us properly, in His righteousness, a righteousness that becomes ours sola fidei: through faith alone. It’s not about the right tie. As the hymn writer, Edward Mote, wrote nearly 200 years ago (1838):

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness;         
When He shall come with trumpet sound, O may I then in Him be found,
dressed in His righteousness alone, faultless to stand before the throne.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; all other ground is sinking sand.

There’s your answer! That’s our answer: the person in the wrong clothes, the one who consequently was bound “hand and foot, and thrown into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth,” was the one who was not dressed in Jesus’ righteousness alone. When we’re seen to be dressed in the “fine linen, bright and pure” with which the Lamb Himself clothes us, then it no longer will matter whether we were formerly “good” or “evil” in the world’s eyes. God sees us only in Christ’s righteousness, and invites us to His table.

Now I want to take just a few more minutes to look at Paul’s words to the Philippians, as they present an unparalleled formula for experiencing a radiant Christian life in the here and now. Here, again, is what Paul wrote: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!  Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.”

What an absolutely amazing list of things to hold at the forefront of our minds! What an incomparable formula for victorious living! And the entire secret is in the last 4 words: “dwell on these things.” Dwelling is the answer. Why is it that some Christians seem to dread every sunrise while others seem almost always to be basking in the sunlight? It’s definitely not a personality issue alone. It has everything to do with whether we’re dwelling on Paul’s list of things: things that are true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, of good repute, of excellence and worthy of praise.  

The alternative is to dwell in the shadows, in the places of gloom and doom, to dwell on the negative things that are usually beyond our control, to allow our focus to be more on the tragedies and disturbances and catastrophes that we hear about daily and that bombard our consciousness even when we try to shut them out. Yes, they’re real and they need to be addressed. But that’s not the point. That’s not Paul’s point. Look at the world in which Paul lived and consider the circumstances of his life, particularly at the very time when he’s writing this letter while facing a brutal martyrdom, the only uncertainty of which was when it would occur, not whether.

Yet he pens these overwhelmingly positive words, all prefaced with, “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!” And just two verses after today’s passage, Paul drops another essential clue as to his contentment: “I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.  I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ Who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:11-13).

I never read these verses from Philippians without a mental throwback to a book by an inspirational writer from my college days, Norman Vincent Peale. Most of you will remember that book and its title: The Power of Positive Thinking. It was first published in 1965, and since then has been translated into fifteen languages with more than 7 million copies sold. Apparently it’s been helpful to many persons. But in Christian circles, it soon spawned an unforgettable adage: “Paul is appealing, but Peale is appalling!”

Why do Christians find Peale appalling? The answer is simple: Peale’s premise is that we should develop positive thinking solely by self-actualization: pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps, being self-made successes. Peale was a principal architect of the “I’m okay, you’re okay” mentality that pervades our 21st century American society. His chapter headings included, “Believe in yourself and in everything you do.” “Assume control over your circumstances.” And “Be kind to yourself.” But how is that working out for the average person? Our society is angst-ridden, laced with out-of-control anger issues, with defiance of authority in any form, with deep divisions that threaten the very fiber of the so-called American way of life, with pervasive depression that keeps our pharmaceutical companies thriving while failing to address anything deeper than physiological factors.

Paul was decidedly not an “I’m okay, you’re okay” sort of chap. He wrote this: “All are under sin, as it is written: there is none righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless;no one does good, not even one.” “Their throat is an open grave; they use their tongues to deceive.” “The venom of asps is under their lips.” “Their mouth is full of curses and bitterness.” “Their feet are swift to shed blood; in their paths are ruin and misery, and the way of peace they have not known.” “There is no fear of God before their eyes” (Romans 3:9-18).

Now before you say, “There goes Paul at his most hyperbolic,” I will quickly remind you that nearly every word I just read was actually Paul quoting from various psalms and from Isaiah. If you put all of this in their respective historical contexts, you end up siding with Solomon who wrote in Ecclesiastes, “What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun” (1:9).

What’s our answer? I believe the answer is not nearly as complicated as we try to make it. We seek for answers in every corner while overlooking the obvious. What’s obvious is the 4-pronged Pauline formula we find in Philippians 4:

Vs. 4: Rejoice in the Lord always
Vs. 6: Replace anxiety with prayer and thanksgiving
Vs. 8: Dwell on the positives, the Biblical positives; and finally,
Vss. 11-13: Learn to be content in whatever circumstances we find ourselves

When we do that, when we truly and intentionally dwell on those things that are true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, of good repute, of excellence and worthy of praise, and when we cultivate a spirit of rejoicing in the Lord for all of those things, coupled with prayer and thanksgiving, then we will have discovered the secret of contentment regardless of our circumstances. And you know what? We’ll discover that it was not a secret at all. It’s clearly revealed by God in His own Holy Word, and we know that God always keeps His Word! To Him be all praise and glory in Christ Jesus, both now and forever.

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer. Amen

A few weeks ago I was reading a review in the Tribune of the classic play by Arthur Miller, A View from the Bridge. Theater critics often display an uncanny capacity for using hundreds of words to say something that, in the end, is completely inscrutable. Tribune theater critic Chris Jones is an unequalled master of this art; and, while I’m reasonably certain that he was trying to promote the Goodman Theater performance as something every one of us should hurry down to see, by the time he was through I was thoroughly convinced that neither the play nor the production were things to which I would ever wish to subject myself. But I found one sentence in the review so riveting that I saved it on my desk. It’s 86 words long without even qualifying as a “run-on” sentence, but here are just the last 35 words for you to ponder. Mr. Jones writes of 

...the overwhelming visual sense of all these human players flailing around and making each other miserable, even as a giant press prepares to reduce them all to coffee grounds, a fate that awaits us all.

That’s just a tiny sampling of the review, but you get the drift. Now you’re wondering why on earth I saved this review on top of my desk. The answer is simple: it made me think of today’s Gospel reading, and I was certain that it would come in handy for a sermon. If we compare Jones with Jesus, a comparison I rarely would make, you have Jones writing about our being reduced to coffee grounds as “a fate that awaits us all,” while you have Jesus saying, “the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people, producing the fruit of it. And he who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; but on whomever it falls, it will scatter him like dust.”

I think the difference between coffee grounds and dust is inconsequential. And I think Jones was being uncharacteristically and unwittingly prophetic. But Jones made one egregious error: he stated that the coffee grounds fate “awaits us all,” while Jesus makes it clear that the dust fate awaits only those who have rejected the chief cornerstone, which we know was a reference to Himself as the Messiah. Mr. Jones proclaims universal doom and gloom, the only fate rightly anticipated by those who are without faith. But Jesus fearlessly proclaimed a similar fate for “the chief priests and the Pharisees” who rightly “understood that He was speaking about them.”

Some of Jesus’ parables seem almost as inscrutable as Chris Jones’ reviews. But not this one! With 20/20 hindsight we know exactly what Jesus was using the landowner and his tenants to represent. God, in His amazing lovingkindness, withheld His judgment again and again, sending a whole succession of prophets to urge repentance, obedience, faithfulness and covenant-keeping. We know what happened to many of those prophets. Then God sent the great forerunner, the second Elijah, to prepare the way with his baptism of repentance, to make “the crooked straight and the rough places plain.” And we know what happened to John the Baptist.

Finally God, like the landowner, sent His only Son. But even though the chief priests and Pharisees knew that Jesus was speaking about them, what was their reaction? Once again it was not one of repentance for having rejected the chief cornerstone (Psalm 118:22, 23). Quite the contrary, they fell short of understanding that “the kingdom of God (would) be taken away from (them) and given to a people producing the fruit of it.” They ignored the warning that “he who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; but on whomever it falls, it will scatter him like dust.” Instead, they “sought to seize” Jesus, being restrained only by their fear of the people who, unlike them, recognized Him as a prophet.

What could possibly have caused such spiritual blindness on their part? Just ask the Apostle Paul. At the very beginning of today’s epistle reading, Paul acknowledged that he himself had all the advantages of a first-century Jew, everything one could possibly need in order to put confidence in the flesh. Yet he launched his early career as one who not only rejected the chief cornerstone but as one who actually pursued and persecuted those who bore His Name and proclaimed His word. Then something dramatic, something completely miraculous, happened to Paul that turned his life around 180 degrees: he had a personal encounter with the risen Christ.

And that encounter changed his value system forever. He wrote to the Philippians, “Whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ. More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ, and may be found in Him” (Philippians 3:7-9a). What an amazing testimony! For Paul, such a conversion in the literal sense of that word, a “turning around,” required a personal encounter none of us has experienced on quite the same level. Perhaps that’s high among the reasons why we, instead of coming to view worldly pleasures and achievements as “rubbish,” try our best to cling to them, even when we know better. We, like the scribes and Pharisees, often are too blinded to see that many things which may in and of themselves have value, are to be “counted as loss for the sake of Christ.”

Is this asking too much of us? Does it sound a bit over the top to have to surrender things we really enjoy just “for the sake of Christ?” Not according to Paul. In fact, the very thought of what he had given up in obedience to Christ’s call inspires Paul to write one of the most dense and inspired sentences in all of his letters. It might even please you to know that here Paul has whipped Chris Jones with a sentence that, in the NASB translation, actually has 113 words compared to Jones’ 86. With what, exactly, has Paul replaced his rubbish heap? Here’s his list of eight things that, by sharpest contrast, he now finds to be of “surpassing value:”

1. Knowing Christ Jesus as his Lord
2. Gaining Christ
3. Being found “in Christ”
4. Having a righteousness that’s not his own, but that comes from God on the basis of faith in Christ
5. Knowing the power of Jesus’ Resurrection
6. Sharing in the fellowship of Christ’s sufferings
7. Being conformed to Jesus’ death
8. Attaining the resurrection from the dead

Spiritually speaking, that’s a dynamite list! But does it bring a level of satisfaction that can compare with our creature comforts and our entertainment passions? How many testimonies of those who have said “yes” to serving Jesus would you have to hear to be won over to that reality? How many hymns would you need to hear that proclaim, “There is joy in serving Jesus?” How many tragic stories would you need to hear from those who have rejected Paul’s list of things that have “surpassing value,” only to discover that they’ve traded that list for a rubbish heap? What would those persons say to you this morning if only they had the opportunity?

Serving Jesus does not require ordination to the ministry. Did you know that St. Francis of Assisi, whose feast day was this past Wednesday, was never ordained to the priesthood? Yet we think of him as the very paradigm of those who have served Jesus selflessly and sacrificially. Francis was set up for life in the incredibly lucrative silk business of his father. But he chose poverty, humility and servanthood over comfort, wealth, prosperity and worldly success. His rubbish heap was spectacularly impressive. But do you think a successful silk merchant from Assisi would be revered as a saint 800 years after his death?

What did St. Francis gain when he gave up practically everything? I would be willing to guess that he might have parroted Paul’s list, on which no improvement is needed. Here it is again:

Knowing Christ Jesus as his Lord, gaining Christ, being found in Christ, having a righteousness that’s not his own but that comes from God on the basis of faith in Christ, knowing the power of Jesus’ Resurrection, sharing in the fellowship of Christ’s sufferings, being conformed to Jesus’ death, and attaining the resurrection from the dead

Read the life of St. Francis and you’ll find that this list fits him perfectly. Well, almost perfectly. What’s still missing? The prize itself. It’s just what Paul goes on to say in the final verses of this passage, where spiritual humility trumps spiritual achievement even at the very highest levels. Paul wrote, “Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect, but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus.” Who among us would have the slightest ground for boasting about what we have accomplished or about what we have given up in order to know and serve Jesus Christ? How are we doing at laying hold of that for which we were laid hold of by Christ Jesus?

Paul, while nearing the end of his earthly life and reflecting on all that belonged to his past, writes, “I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” How does he do that? He gives us just two simple strategies for pressing on:

1)   first, “forgetting what lies behind,” and then,
2)   “reaching forward to what lies ahead.”

For Paul, the forgetting part seemed already to have been accomplished. He had put everything aside for the sake of proclaiming the Gospel. Reaching forward, for Paul, soon would involve martyrdom in Rome, literally “sharing in the fellowship of Christ’s sufferings” and “being conformed to Jesus’ death.” For us, martyrdom remains highly improbable. Yet the little sacrifices we are privileged to make “for the sake of Christ” are an indispensable part of pressing on toward the goal.

And what is that goal? It’s “the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” The KJV just translates this as the “high” calling of God; but Paul’s Greek is stronger than that. It depicts an upward trajectory so clearly that some have translated it as “the heavenly calling of God.” Heaven is to be our focus. We’re to be a people who are characterized by looking up. What happens when, instead, we cave in to the all-too-human tendency to look down? We’re highly likely to drown in depression because, when we look down, we see unspeakable atrocities everywhere we look. You know the catalogue of recent ones without my having to enumerate them from this pulpit.

I would rather leave you this morning not looking down and wallowing in the sin and shame that pervade our time and fill our media, but looking up heavenward to “the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” The upward-looking Christian is the one who conquers uncertainty, spiritual myopia, depression, fearfulness and faithlessness. The upward-looking Christian does not wallow in worldly woes but rejoices in what is already ours in Christ. And, above all, the upward-looking Christian joyfully anticipates all that is yet to come when we obtain the prize. That’s our upward calling. It will get us through today, tomorrow and every day, enabling us to say confidently with Paul, “Thanks be to God, who always leads us to triumph in Christ, and through us spreads the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place” (II Corinthians 2:14).               
                                         
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer

Today’s epistle reading presents what’s known among theologians as the Kenosis, a Greek word that simply means an “emptying out” of something. It refers to verse 7 in Philippians 2, where Paul writes that Jesus “emptied Himself, taking on the form of a servant.” It emphasizes all that Jesus willingly surrendered, all that was rightfully His from eternity past to eternity future; yet, for this window of time in the Incarnation, He gave up all of that in obedience to the Father’s will and also of His own accord, all for the purpose of rescuing us from sin and death and opening the way to eternal life.

This passage from Philippians 2 is one that is specially loved by many of us, and that for very good reason. Paul may have been quoting from an early Christian hymn or creed, or it simply may be exalted Pauline prose that beautifully expresses things at the very core of our faith. There’s often a tendency to skip over the first few verses and to rush on to the verses referring to the servanthood of Christ and the imperative for us to “have this mind (or attitude) in ourselves which was also in Christ Jesus.” But this morning I want us first to look closely at the introductory verses that give us a context for all that follows:
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“Therefore if there is any encouragement in Christ, if there is any consolation of love, if there is any fellowship of the Spirit, if any affection and compassion,  make my joy complete by being of the same mind, maintaining the same love, united in spirit, intent on one purpose” (2:1,2).

Obviously Paul’s uses of “if” do not imply a hint of doubt or uncertainty, and they might better be translated as “since.” “Since there is:”

1. Encouragement in Christ, or Christ-like encouragement,
2. Consolation of love, or loving consolation,
3. Fellowship of the Spirit, or spiritual fellowship, and
4. Affection and compassion, or compassionate lovingkindness,

Since these are undeniably true, then Paul’s joy can be made complete by our same-mindedness, by our oneness in Christ: one mind, one love, one spirit and one purpose. This sets us up for seeing how in the kenosis, in the “emptying out” of His divine prerogatives, Jesus modeled all of these things for us by His humble servanthood and obedience that led Him to His death, even to death on the Cross.

Backing up for a moment, look again at the 4 things in verse 1. First there is “encouragement in Christ.” The Greek word for “encouragement” is “paraklesis,” a word with the same root as the word that Jesus uses for the Holy Spirit in John’s Gospel. We usually translate it as “Comforter,” but it literally means “one who is called alongside to help.” Here in Philippians, Paul is starting his list with the idea that “in Christ” there is that same sense of having help, comfort and encouragement directly at one’s side. Jesus gives it to us by the Holy Spirit and also enables us to share it with others. This is why, after we say the confession, we hear the “comfortable words” of Jesus, “Come unto Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

Then there’s the “consolation of love,” a phrase that again expresses the concept of comfort, a comfort that’s rooted in love. This is the only use of the word for “consolation” in the entire NT. I think it’s being used not only to reinforce the idea of comfort but also to locate this “loving consolation” firmly “in Christ,” as Paul sets up his admonition for us to have the “mind” or “attitude” of Christ Jesus. As John expressed it in I John 4:19, “We love because He first loved us.”

Next is “fellowship of spirit,” a phrase that could be translated as “spiritual fellowship.” Every one of us has attended social events that were superficially very successful but from which we went away with an empty feeling. Similarly, most of us have attended very modest gatherings of fellow believers from which we went away overflowing with a sense of having been fed with spiritual caviar or lobster or fillet mignon or avocado. That’s the spiritual fellowship to which Paul is referring here, and it’s one that we experience every Sunday evening in our gatherings as Grace Anglican Fellowship.

Finally Paul lumps together “affection” and “compassion.” These may be much more compelling words in Greek than they are in English. Doesn’t “affection” sound a bit flat? If Gayle says, “I love you,” it will hit me far more powerfully than if she were to say, “I have affection for you.” But the word might better be translated as “tender mercy,” as it’s one of the Greek words frequently used in the Septuagint to translate the Hebrew word, “chesed,” God’s lovingkindness. It’s a word that Zechariah, father of John the Baptist, uses of God the Father in his song of praise, the Benedictus, when he speaks of “the tender mercy of our God, with which the Sunrise from on high will visit us” (Luke 1:78); Paul uses it of God the Son in Philippians 1:8, where he writes, “God is my witness, how I long for you all with the lovingkindness of Christ Jesus.”

Interestingly and very significantly Paul’s next word, translated “compassion,” is yet another word used in the Septuagint to translate “chesed.” In other words, Paul is deliberately jamming together two synonyms that mean “tender mercy” or “lovingkindness,” thereby driving his point home even by his use of a grammatical construction that creates an intentional and emphatic redundancy!

The identical juxtaposition of these two words in the Hebrew original and the Greek translation occurs twice in the Psalms: “Remember, O LORD, Your compassion and Your lovingkindnesses, for they have been from of old” (Psalm 25:6), and “You, O LORD, will not withhold Your compassion from me; Your lovingkindness and Your truth will continually preserve me” (Psalm 40:11). But even more significant is that Paul himself again combines both Greek words in his letter to the Colossians, where he writes, “So, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, put on compassionate lovingkindness, goodness, humility, gentleness and patience” (Colossians 3:12). The point is that the very words that appear throughout the OT to describe God’s covenant and redemptive love for His people Israel[4] are used by Paul to describe how we as Christians should relate to each other in a Christ-like fashion. That’s a tall order, and Paul is about to tell us the only way that we can be enabled to do it.
 
There we have our backdrop for having the humble servant mind of Christ: we start out with Christ-like encouragement, loving consolation, spiritual fellowship and merciful lovingkindness. No wonder Paul says that his joy is made complete when his flock at Philippi moves on from this foundation to an additional 4 things: having the same mind, the same love, spiritual unity and again with redundant emphasis, being of one mind. If we exhibit all 4 of these things, we will indeed have the servant mind of Christ Who did nothing from selfishness or vain conceit, but humbly regarded others as more important than Himself. And, because He was the only One ever to do this perfectly, God has given Him the Name above every name, the Name at which every knee will bow and every tongue will make the confession, “Jesus is Lord.”

Now there’s a Pauline conclusion to all of this that’s intensely practical and characteristically challenging. And herein lies our takeaway this morning, our “so-what” factor, verses 12 and 13: “So then, work out your salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God Who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure.” Here Paul is eliminating any ground for either spiritual complacency on the one hand or for spiritual arrogance on the other. We’re to be occupied with “working out” our salvation. That completely eliminates complacency. We may hold differing theological perspectives on precisely what it means to be working out our salvation; but, practically speaking, there’s no disputing Paul’s point that we need to be working, and doing so “with fear and trembling,” words that unambiguously mean exactly what we think they mean.

Work definitely is involved. Salvation itself is the free gift of God, “not of works lest anyone should boast” (Ephesians 2:8, 9). We don’t have to work to achieve it. But as soon as we receive it, that’s when the work starts. And it continues right up to the time when every knee will bow and every tongue will confess the deity of Christ.

It might be a good idea to get those knees working right away as part of your preparatory work. But that would be no more than a starting point for doing all that Paul has in mind. This is where Paul in the immediately following verses takes off the gloves and challenges his Philippian believers and us to “prove yourselves to be blameless and innocent, children of God above reproach in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life” (Philippians 2:15, 16a). That’s what Paul means by working out your salvation. And it’s daunting!

We mentioned spiritual arrogance as well as complacency. The “fear and trembling” aspect of this work cures arrogance. And that’s not all. Verse 13 is the key to everything in this entire passage, and it chases away the slightest trace of arrogance. Are you proud of your Christian work and walk? Are you confident that you’ve done everything that God is requiring of you? Are you spiritually self-satisfied? If so, then you have not come to terms with verse 13, where Paul rightly says that “it is God Who is at work in you both to will and to work for His good pleasure.” We don’t even get credit for the willingness, much less for the execution. All the credit for the willing and the working goes right back to God.
 
Is that de-incentivizing for you? Then you don’t yet understand why our coming to this holy table is called a “Eucharist.” Eucharist is not just a Sunday morning activity: it’s a way of life. It’s our obedience as we follow the compelling example of Christ’s obedience, even to death on the Cross. It’s our work, but it’s done in God’s strength and entirely “to the glory of God the Father” (verse 11), just as are the bending of our knees and the confessing of our tongues.

And so here is our invitation to the Table: “Come, you thankful people, come.” Come with thankful hearts. Then, strengthened here by His abundant grace, go forth both to will and to work for His good pleasure.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen