Call to Confession

The fourth chapter is the beginning of what appears to be a powerful sermon on living as a Christian in a difficult, even hostile world. Some of the writing here is poetry that tugs at the deepest longings of our hearts. Some of it sounds like a father pleading with his wayward children to come home again. Some of it provides glimpses of the kingdom of God, and it seems almost within our reach.

But this exhortation, this sermon is launched with these words:

An interesting opening line, don’t you think? The author, who called himself Paul in the opening verse, so we’ll call him Paul (in italics) to acknowledge the dispute. Paul begins his exhortation, his plea (“I beg you”) with an admission that he is a prisoner. He has surrendered his will to another. He has given over his desire to see his goals accomplished, his name broadcast, his desires met. As a prisoner, he invites us into a new way of living. As a captive, he wants to show us how to be free.

Plus, he reminds us that this life is not an achievement on our parts. This is not a goal we reach or a level we surpass. This is a gift. Salvation, new life, new freedom, forgiveness is a gift. Our job is to realize the gift and live it. Live, he says, as though you were loved because you are. Live as though you were forgiven because you have been. Live as though you are more valuable than you can imagine because you have been given a gift beyond price. “Lead a life worthy of the calling.”

That’s how Paul starts part two of the Epistle, the exhortation part. Remember? Part one tells us everything we do is a response. This call to live in certain ways works only if we understand that we aren’t doing it to receive the grace that comes from God. It becomes possible only if we understand that we aren’t doing it to earn God’s love, Christ’s sacrifice, the gift called salvation. It has to be this way. All that we do as Christians, as followers, comes only after we are set free to love.

That is the second thing the author tells us, which might sound a lot like the first thing he tells us: the ability to live the life to which we are called comes from Christ and not from us. Our natural state is one of limitation, one of captivity to our self-centered view of the world and our place in it. But now we are free to be all that Christ calls us to be. We are free to be humble and gentle and patient and loving; we are free to live in peace because the captivity of our nature has been made captive in Christ. Therefore, we can begin to approach leading a life worthy of this capturing, this calling.

What does that life look like? Humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. That’s what such a life encompasses. Now there is too much here to deal with all at once. But let me point out just two simple dimensions of this description of a way of living.

First, the purpose of patience—and all the other dimensions mentioned in these verses—is not to help us with our blood pressure problems. That is a by-product, and a positive one, ask any cardiologist. And in our culture, that “what’s in it for me” question is always in the forefront. But Paul doesn’t present this formula as a way to deal with your inner demons. Patience, as with any gift of the Spirit, is to build up the body. We exercise our patience when we live and interact with others. Inherent in this description is the understanding that dealing with people is not an easy thing to do! So, Paul is preparing us by making sure we are equipped to handle community. We need patience; but we need a patient love that enables us to bear with one another. We need that outward focus to make this work.

Patience, for a Christian, is relational.

Second, the goal of patience is unity. Our faith is unity, argues Paul: One Lord, one faith, one baptism . . . Our Christian living, then, is not a way to measure up, but a way to build community. We are patient with one another, not simply to tolerate others, but to love them.

The paradox here is that it is love that begets patience. And we learn to love those difficult to love by practicing patience. So, if love is indeed a good, I guess it is true that good things come to those who wait . . . with patience.

And some wait as apostles and some wait as prophets and some wait . . . Wait, of course, doesn’t mean sit on our hands. Wait, in this context, means work. “The gifts he gave,” it says. What a gift it is to be sent out into the world to be a sign that God is still at work – apostles. What a gift to be sent out as ones who tell the truth to a world that loves comfortable lies – prophets. What a gift to be the one who can find and proclaim good news even when everyone else sees negativity – evangelists. What a gift to be those who provide care for others, for the hurting and the broken – pastors. What a gift to be those who bring knowledge, who lift up those who don’t understand this world and their place in it – teachers. What a gift to build up the body!

While we wait with patience. Why patience in the midst of all this effort? Patience seems to mean sitting back and waiting. Well, not for Paul. Patience is claiming the larger vision and the longer hope, even as we work like mad in the here and now. It is trusting that by God’s Spirit we are not far from the Kin-dom and that what we do shares this vision and this hope. We trust that the vision is real, that the kin-dom is real. We hold on to that hope by living a life worthy of the gospel. It is a sign of our hope by how we choose to live each and every day of our lives. It is a sign of our hope, our patience in that hope, when we welcome, when we cross the boundaries of hatred and division around us. When we seek to shape the living image of the church into something approaching the kin-dom of God, we are leading a life worthy of the gospel.