The Alelyon (one another) passages in the New Testament:

Encourage and build up each other (1 Thess. 5:11), Part 2

I was thinking that this week we would move on to a new “one another” passage, but a comment by my good friend Sam Williamson (see his excellent blog at beliefsoftheheart.com) has vaulted me right back into my now old habit of writing multi-part posts. In responding to my point that we only encourage each other to the degree that we are aware of who we are in God, Sam noted that he was stuck on that crucial aspect of being paracletes (the Greek word for an encourager) for each other. So blame today’s post on Sam …

Here’s the thing: “Who we are in him” is a not-surprisingly infinite ocean for persons of such small capacity. I don’t think the question of Christian identity can ever get old or that we can fully plumb its full meaning, even in eternity. In fact, as is true with all divine truth, experiencing our status as beloved children of God both grows and recedes as we become aware of it. It is something like C.S. Lewis’ description of the stable in The Last Battle (referring to the incarnation): What is on the inside is greater than what we see on the outside. In my own life I see that the Holy Spirit continues to unravel the internal threads of what I believe – the “faith” that reveals itself in how I think and act. It’s like particle physics or understanding about the human body: There is a huge amount of discovery going on that merely demonstrates how little we know, while providing moments of exhilaration as our vision expands. And what is it that I have learned as we go along?

Maybe foremost is a (slowly) growing humility that comes from a revelation of the Father’s great love. Who I am in him rests in complete security on the reality of God’s goodness and mercy. I expect that many of us grew up in “religious” environments that projected an image of the Lord that was quite at odds with Scripture. One of my mother’s favorite lines when some annoyance came my way was, “See, God is punishing you!” She especially brought out this anti-gospel nugget when the pain seemed to follow immediately on some transgression of mine – most often one of my frequent acts of disobedience or a verbal confrontation with her. 

My mother was not alone in espousing a view of God that was something like that of a primitive pagan who constantly sensed an overwhelming need to appease the local and universal divinities. The result was a set of attitudes that included such classics as: 1.) We need to be good in order to make God like us and bless us 2.) but whatever blessing we receive is mainly there to prepare us for the next blow of ordained suffering; 3.) which kept us in line and acted as an incentive to follow the many laws that God had invented for our betterment; 4.) but which we never really lived up to or accomplished; 5.) so we needed to work all the more arduously to at least mitigate all the bad stuff that might happen to us if we don’t do what we’re supposed to.

Maybe that’s a bit of a caricature or stereotype, but it’s not a gross one that would keep us from recognizing what many people really believe. There are plentiful variations on the theme of “Harsh Master God” that afflict us, and sometimes they are very subtle. The one thing they all have in common is that they arise from our pride and its evil spawn, unbelief. What other reasons could there be for not simply taking the Father at his word and throwing ourselves on his care? One common ploy is to play the Not Worthy card, which we deceive ourselves into believing that we have taken a posture of humility. The truth is that Not worthy is a given, a fact that we should simply accept and let God help us get beyond.

Not Worthy is a multifaceted problem. On the one hand, we convince ourselves that we should be worthy. On the other hand, we look at our unworthiness as somehow beyond the reach of grace, as if we were some kind of singular expression of human degradation. Sometimes we choose one of these distortions to indulge depending on our mood, circumstances, or personal demon attack. Today I refuse the Lord’s free gifts because my report card has less than all A’s. We actually don’t know what grades are on the document, we only know that they aren’t perfect. And we’re not really sure what to do to get an A except to take all the biblical commandments, add some of our own, and fulfill them. Our inevitable failure leads us to …

… decide that we are, in fact, unworthy. But then we distort the truth by concluding that there’s nothing anyone, including God himself, can do about it. I learned both sides of this unholy coin fro an early age. I was not allowed to make or admit mistakes. The result was that I expected to be perfect while being always conscious of the fact that I was not. Pride pressed me to think I could attain something that I knew, by force of evidence, was impossible; pride motivated me to cover up the evidence; pride resisted bringing the evidence to someone for help. I lived fully “in me,” and wanted no part of the humility that would lead me to live in him. When it comes to the lies of worthiness/unworthiness, pride declares that we must perform to some unmeasurable standard; insists that we must try harder when we fail; and concludes that we are hopeless when we continually don’t “make it.” What an intolerable burden for mere mortals.

Another sticking point that we might encounter on the way to being fully “in him” – probably related to this unworthiness trip – is a belief that the promises of God are literally too great to be true. Is the Father REALLY that committed to our welfare, to our joy, to working all things for our good. The answer, of course, is yes, but that doesn’t make the questions go away. Pride (again), in concert with the world marshals proof that seeks to contradict what God says about himself.

There are other proud places where we resist plunging into the goodness of God and thus being “in him.” One of my favorites is to essentially blame and complain or, as I like to call it, the Jonah Syndrome. Take a day in the life of Me. I might be working on a legal case or a ministry project. At some point, this, that, or the other thing aren’t working quite right. My happiness quotient has begun to decrease. Meanwhile, the Spirit is trying to get my attention, probably to slow me down and be aware of his presence, but I’m only half (or less) listening. Because I have a vague sense that I should be responding in a better way, now every small disturbance in my happiness force field increases by orders of magnitude rather than by simple linear accumulation. Computer is slow? One Argh. Phone call interrupts me? A four Argh response. I go out to run errands and forget the most important one? Sixteen Arghs. I make the mistake of reading some online news reports? Off the charts.

At this juncture the Jonah Syndrome is fully formed. The questions – “Why, Lord?” – and the complaints – “I had this morning so well planned out” – begin to escalate.  I want to go sit under my castor oil plant, out of the heat of the day. I am fully “in me,” but he is calling me to be in him. He has extended his hand and is speaking a word for me to come out, like Lazarus, and be free. If I give myself to the hand and the word, the Spirit will bring rest and contentment; the fretting and fuming recede; faith grows and empowers obedience. This is a battle of awarenesses. In the words of the old Keith Green song, “It’s so hard to see when my eyes are on me.” When I’m mostly aware of myself, I miss the consolation and strength that come from the Spirit’s presence. When I quiet myself to know that he is God, the circumstances that clamor for my attention fade and diminish in their importance and influence on my thinking and acting.

What transcends and overcomes all our resistance and pride is the fact that the Father is relentless in he pursuit of you, of me, of us. He is unalterably and entirely committed to drawing us into his own beauty and glory, arms and heart wide open to us. He wants to clear our sight to see the glory of who he is, which gives us a vision of the glory of who we are and who we are becoming when we are in him. This is the foundation on which we are built, and from which we build each other.

Father, keep coming after us until we are made completely yours, abiding always and entirely in you.