Your Children's Children

Your Children’s Children.  Not counting the biblical patriarchs (Adam to Moses), during other more normal ancient epochs as supported by the archeological record, the average life expectancy was a scant 26 years old. Reaching adulthood, let alone parenthood, was never a guarantee. In the Roman era (100 bc to 400 ad), if infant mortality were excluded, a person on average might see 40 years. An aristocrat in Medieval Europe, if he or she reached adulthood, might have 40 more years as an adult. In contrast to 1850, where less than half the people reached their 50th birthday, after 1900 with hospitals and a better understanding of hygiene, 97% of the people in England reached their 50th birthday.

More than ever, since health records became routine, grandparents are blessedly common. The Legacy Project estimates that 70% of all adults in America will become grandparents in their lifetimes, which compared to the ancient world is a truly staggering figure. Perhaps the scarcity of grandparenting references in the Scriptures corresponds to the rarity of grandparents in the general population during biblical times. Nonetheless, what little the Bible does say about grandparents, mostly in a few psalms and proverbs, is vaulted.

“O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come” (Psa. 71:17-18). “But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children” (Psa. 103:17). “The Lord bless you from Zion! May you see the prosperity of Jerusalem all the days of your life! May you see your children's children! Peace be upon Israel!” (Psa. 128:5-6). “A good man leaves an inheritance to his children's children, but the sinner's wealth is laid up for the righteous” (Pro. 13:22). “Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life” (Pro. 16:31). “Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the glory of children is their fathers” (Pro 17:6). “The glory of young men is their strength, but the splendor of old men is their gray hair” (Pro 20:29).

Promoting from adult to parent to grandparent status is an honor that not all of us will have. If we are fortunate enough to have grandchildren, then we are fortunate enough.

Incline Your Ear

Incline Your Ear.  The outstretched arm of the Lord to save (Exo. 6:6). The outstretched hand of the Lord to judge (Isa. 5:25). The outstretched tent, or tabernacle of the Lord to provide community (Exo. 33:7). These and many more uses of the verb, “incline, stretch, bend, extend” (Hebrew: natah) show God’s action to lean toward us. Joshua, therefore, does not hesitate to challenge the people of Israel to incline their hearts toward the Lord, which in the same action involves forsaking their persistent pursuit of idols (Josh. 24:23). But one of the most prevalent ways that God stretches, inclines, bends, extends himself toward us is when we pray. Within the imagery of natah, God cups his ears, so to speak, to listen intently to his children when we call upon him in faith, and sometimes out of desperation. Notice God’s active listening posture in verse 6 of Psalm 17 in direct contrast to the wicked ones who, in verse 11, incline, bend, stretch their eyes toward self-advancement at the expense of others.

 

 ¹ Hear a just cause, O LORD; attend to my cry! Give ear to my prayer from lips free of deceit!

 ² From your presence let my vindication come! Let your eyes behold the right!

 ³ You have tried my heart, you have visited me by night, you have tested me, and you will find nothing; I have purposed that my mouth will not transgress.

 ⁴ With regard to the works of man, by the word of your lips I have avoided the ways of the violent.

 ⁵ My steps have held fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped.

 ⁶ I call upon you, for you will answer me, O God; incline your ear to me; hear my words.

 ⁷ Wondrously show your steadfast love, O Savior of those who seek refuge from their adversaries at your right hand.

 ⁸ Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings,

 ⁹ from the wicked who do me violence, my deadly enemies wh

 ¹⁰ They close their hearts to pity; with their mouths they speak arrogantly.

 ¹¹ They have now surrounded our steps; they set their eyes to cast us to the ground.

 ¹² He is like a lion eager to tear, as a young lion lurking in ambush.

 ¹³ Arise, O LORD! Confront him, subdue him! Deliver my soul from the wicked by your sword,

 ¹⁴ from men by your hand, O LORD, from men of the world whose portion is in this life. You fill their womb with treasure; they are satisfied with children, and they leave their abundance to their infants.

 ¹⁵ As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness; when I awake, I shall be satisfied with your likeness.

Opportunity to Return

Opportunity to Return.  The Fourth of July wasn’t the day that the famous signer of the Declaration of Independence, John Adams, predicted would become a day of festival for the newly formed nation. He naturally thought it would be July 2^nd, the day that the Second Continental Congress agreed upon severing all political ties with Great Britain, a decision which was considered an act of treason against King George III. Because the dozens of corrections that Congress suggested took until July 4^th for the Committee of Five, principally Thomas Jefferson, to incorporate—the document bore its revised date. It took another month (August 2, 1776) for the 56 signers to contribute their ink, a point of no return.

Of the 56 to follow John Hancock, who was the first to sign with such large letters so that the king would certainly see his name, only one reached extreme old age: Charles Carroll of Carrollton, Maryland (age 95). Yet even Carroll, like the rest of the 56, was not exempt from paying the ironic price of independence. Literally or figuratively or both, “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” often cost these men and their families life, liberty, and happiness. A quick review of their losses is worthy of review, but they saw and were sustained by the thought of a better tomorrow and a better country. All were men of means and well-educated who could have easily sent others to do the dirty work of fighting but didn’t. Famously imperfect and/or perfectly infamous in other ways (41 of the 56 were slave owners), they each did their part in the Revolution. Most of them paid dearly for it before they were ever rewarded by it or honored because of it.

Far from saying, or even implying that America or any part of it is “God’s Country,” which is theologically ridiculous to suggest, there is yet something vaguely similar between those 56 signers of the Declaration of Independence and those countless others in biblical history who dared to believe in a future that their present conditions could not feasibly support, except that they believed what God had promised more than what their eyeballs could see. “These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city” (Heb. 11:13-16). Faith was, and is, considered an act of treason by this world’s rulers.

Fulfill Your Ministry

Fulfill Your Ministry.  Millennia before the modern, secular mantra existed, which says, you do you, Paul charged his protégé, Timothy, with these words: “Fulfill your ministry” (2 Tim. 4:5). Different in nature and scope from our contemporary, secular creed, which enshrines self-expression as an inalienable human right, Paul seeks to motivate and maintain Timothy on his present course of Christian service.

Paul’s charge to Timothy is remarkably simple without being remotely simplistic. Cause to fill up completely to the point of overflowing, steel yourself toward the intentional satisfaction of your calling, entirely discharge the duty that God has entrusted you to do—this is not at all automatic, because it invokes a command. Saying Yes to this life involves saying No to ten thousand other things in life, which otherwise may be entirely good and wholesome.

A few observations make this verse stick. Notice that it is not, “fulfill ministry,” in a nebulous, all-inclusive, and unmeasurable sense. Similarly, it is not “fulfill my ministry,” in the sense that Paul had unfinished business that he is saddling upon the shoulders of young Timothy to complete. Or even worse, it is not “fulfill Christ’s ministry,” in some Messiah-complex sort of way. No, there is only one Messiah, and he perfectly fulfilled his ministry already; Christ does not need our help. Instead, the command for Timothy is “fulfill your ministry.”

Also notice that, even though it is given to Timothy, it is not necessarily for Timothy—because it is ministry. Ministry, at its very heart, is for others, to others, and with others. Therefore, Timothy’s charge is not the same as saying: “only do what only you can do,” which is incredibly self-focused and self-actualized. Timothy’s charge is not a job, but a ministry. Lastly, Timothy’s charge is contained in the grammar of the second-person singular, aorist, active, imperative—which is to say, it is not directly applicable to any person other than Timothy. Timothy’s mother or grandmother, for instance, cannot obey this for Timothy. We cannot assume Timothy’s mantle in Ephesus or elsewhere and think that his armor will fit our dimensions.

A principle, however, is transferable from Timothy’s commission to our situation. We all have a duty to discharge, a ministry to cultivate that has been entrusted to us by God himself. It may be a class of toddlers, a grandchild, a group of co-workers, or a local church—we all have some flock to tend. Timothy’s calling was explicit, while ours may remain implicit. Nonetheless, we have all been named as “God’s fellow workers” (1 Cor. 3:9).

Yes and Amen

Yes and Amen. It takes more than courage to look at how far one has come, as opposed to how far one still must go—it requires faith. Compared to faith, courage is easy, though courage is never easy. Compared to courage, faith is alien. Courage is the road less taken, so to speak, whereas faith is deconstructing the existing road to build a new one. Courage often opts for Plan B while faith checks None of the Above and puts the pencil down. Courage is important. Faith is essential, for “without faith it is impossible to please God” (Heb. 11:6). Faith both rallies around and finds refuge at the word and work of Christ. “For all the promises of God find their Yes in him. That is why it is through him that we utter our Amen to God for his glory” (2 Cor. 1:20).

With courage, reading the headline news is a terrifying obstacle to overcome. With faith, reading the headline news is a prayer list. This week alone: in addition to a funeral this afternoon locally, there is a submarine lost in the ocean depths quickly losing oxygen, a war of attrition in Ukraine, and several layers of multiple scandals that embroil many world leaders. Yet, far scarier than those examples are the everyday evils that don’t make the headline news: the crimes committed against unprotected sectors of our society, new versions of the Final Solution dreamed up in some prison cell by a warped mind against his perceived enemies, and the lies, corruptions, and predatory behaviors that gleefully ruin families, communities, and generations. Even worse than the 42 children and teachers who, this week, were hacked and/or burned in their sleep at a school in western Uganda were the 8 girls abducted by the cowards who torched the rest.

Courage says, “Something must be done. Someone must pay.” Faith says, “Hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done” even if the starting place for God’s will to be done “on earth as it is in heaven” begins with me, my sin, my prejudice, my violence imagined, my passivity, and my disbelief. Over a hundred years ago, journalist, humorist, and occasional apologete, G. K. Chesterton, delivered a similar faith-over-courage response when asked in a letter, “What’s wrong with the world?” He replied simply: “Dear Sir, I am. Yours, G. K. Chesterton.” Almost predictably and certainly indicative of our Post-Truth Age, that quote is questioned because the original letter written to The London Times cannot be located (despite two World Wars fought), although Chesterton seems to have written an entire book after the incident (What’s Wrong with the World, 1910). Regardless of provenance, courage never says, “I am the problem,” but faith never forgets it.

Peace I Leave With You

Peace I Leave With You.  Forewarning does not always prepare us for loss, insulate us from pain, or isolate us from anxiety. Yet we commonly feel that if we had known a major trial were soon arriving then we would be more ready to face it. Eh, maybe/maybe not. For the disciples, ample forewarning did not galvanize them against the reality of Jesus’ departure. Christ had told them at least three times directly that he was going to die and how it would happen (Mark 8:31; 9:31; 10:33). Yet mere hours before it happened, they were still not ready for it (John 13:37). However, which of us is truly ready for death, departure of a loved one, grim diagnosis, or sharp disparity between what we think should happen with what is about to happen? None of us is ever completely ready, but Christ is completely aware of our frailty. Therefore, it was wise and indicative of his entire ministry that Christ, even though he had given his disciples information about his end, at the last breath before the big plunge instead gave them peace. “Peace I leave with you” (John 14:27a). Christ knows that in the crucible of our confusion, even more than an antidote, explanation, or resolution to pain, what we need most is peace.

Ever the teacher, Christ adds a clarifying comment about the peace that he is leaving with them, and with us by extension. It was his peace and, therefore, his gift to give. “My peace I give to you” (John 14:27b). His peace is not one of the many counterfeits of peace that infiltrate the world’s operating system: diversions, distractions, and denials. Christ’s peace does not dilute our pain or trick the brain for half an hour that pain doesn’t matter. Christ’s peace wiggles past our armor, joins us inside our pain, and pays the bitter entrance fee. “Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid” (John 14:27c). He does not shame us about our fear but assures us through our fear that a Day awaits that will be far better than any day that ever was. Because on that Day, he will abolish all loss, pain, and anxiety. “I am going away, and I will come to you” (John 14:28), so that “you may believe” (John 14:29). By faith, pain is an opportunity for increased faith when the peace of Christ is present.

For Your Joy

For Your Joy.  Through the gospel of Christ’s grace, it is a privilege to be positioned and enabled to pray for the congregation. Ministry, not to mention ministry leadership, is exactly upside-down in this regard as compared to the other forms of leadership. Shepherds pray for the sheep, whereas wolves prey upon the sheep. 

In the wider world, the stereotypical boss steers the organization and its thralls toward his or her advancement and ease. The phrase that Jesus used of this kind of I-win/you-lose leadership style is ironic: these lords “lord it over them” (Matt. 20:25), which is to say that they leverage their position toward their exaltation. But Jesus, who is the Lord of all lords—who has the right but does not leverage it here—counters conventional leadership practice and thereby redefines it: “But whoever would be great among you must be your servant” (Matt. 20:26). According to our Great God and Savior Jesus Christ (Titus 2:13), greatness is measured not by amassing servants, but by serving others in love (Gal. 5:6). 

Paul applies Jesus’ “upside-down” servant-leadership to the church, particularly in terms of prayer, specifically during a time when the church doubts Paul’s trustworthiness as a shepherd. Obliquely mentioning a trial in Asia that “burdened [us] beyond our strength” (2 Cor. 1:8), Paul writes: “You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many” (2 Cor. 1:11). Apparently, Paul had indicated that he would visit Corinth, but when Paul was delayed, the church interpreted his absence as evidence of neglect. Pressed into an uncomfortable position of needing to defend himself, Paul measured his ministry against Jesus’ words and assured Corinth that his love was pure, and his leadership was pastoral. “Not that we lord it over your faith, but we work with you for your joy, for you stand firm in your faith” (2 Cor. 1:24).

Paul was not working against them for his own joy but working with them, even at a distance, for their own joy, even at a cost to himself. Principally, his off-site labor for them was praying for them, writing to them, and sending people to minister to them when he was delayed.