Ordained (08/06/22)

There are certain words that cannot help but jump out at you.   We have one such here.  God has destined us.   If we accept this much, then I don’t see how we avoid recognizing that He has, in fact, predestined us.  He hasn’t been responding with rewards because we’ve been such good boys.  No.  This obtaining of salvation was destined by His determination, which is, frankly, the only sort of destiny that can finally matter.  If He has not so determined, so it shall not be.  You can do what you like.  Everybody can do what they like.  It will not change the outcome in the slightest.

Now, some, wanting to preserve a bit of dignity in their sense of self-will, would suggest that while indeed, God predestines us, it’s in a fashion that simply recognizes that He can see our decisions in advance, and account for them.  That is to say, God looked down the corridors of time through which Jeff travels, and saw that on such and such a date, when presented with the Gospel yet again, Jeff would actually listen and receive it for its true worth.  Well, to be sure, God does indeed see the end from the beginning.  But, if we will listen to the prophet, it’s far stronger than that.  God declares the end from the beginning (Isa 46:10).  It’s a word of bold declaration, an announcing and making manifest.  In this application, given that the things declared so boldly are yet future, it is a matter of prediction.  And what God predicts, dear ones, is not guesswork.  It is the outworking of His own determined will.  Indeed, given that declarative, vocalized sense of the word, we might very well say that here is that word which He sends forth, which shall not return to Him void, without accomplishing His desire (Isa 55:11).

What is His desire?  Well, we have it plainly here, declared both in the negative and in the positive, continuing the contrasting images that Paul has been stringing together.  God has not destined us for wrath.  That is particularly good news, isn’t it?  Bear in mind, it was only a few short sentences ago that Paul was noting the sudden destruction to come upon those who remain in the night, remain in the darkness of ignorance (1Th 5:3).  But there is also the positive.  It’s not just that God doesn’t appoint us to one end.  There is the counterpoint, the reality that we are, already were from long ages past, destined for obtaining salvation.  This is gloriously good news, isn’t it?

I can’t speak for all, but I know my own experience of that eventuality, and it was of a nature that did not permit, really, of any other understanding than that God had decided Jeff should be saved.  Pardon my odd self-referential style here.  I think I shall drop it now.  No, God came when I wasn’t particularly looking for Him, wasn’t particularly concerned over any felt need of salvation, nor even of a felt need for a better way, a better lifestyle, or some such.  I was married.  I had done right by the woman I discovered I loved, or at the very least found attractive.  Perhaps the love came later, for I couldn’t really vouch for understanding love at the time.  But something, Someone, put us together.  This we understood pretty much from the outset.  It was just so unlikely.  And now, here was that Someone putting Himself together with me, speaking within my own mind – not something, I assure you, which I was accustomed to experiencing, or even accepting.  But He made His point over the next few days, validated His parking in my head, if you will, and there it was.  As He had determined, so I obtained.  And so I have held to that faith since that day.

But here’s the thing.  I think in some ways it’s the concern of those who cringe at the idea of predestination, even more so than the seeming loss of autonomy.  If I am predestined, what is to prevent me becoming presumptuous.  You know the caricature of the doctrine of permanent election that is denounced as ‘once saved, always saved’.  That is the mindset that says, I believe, therefore I can sin with impunity.  It has in it a grain of truth, but that grain has gone off, become foul, and it festers in that mindset which Paul elsewhere decries as an utterly unthinkable perversion of grace.  “Are we to continue in sin that grace might increase?  Unthinkable!  How shall we who died to sin still live in it?” (Ro 6:1-2).  Sin mustn’t reign in you anymore, that you should slavishly obey its lusts (Ro 6:12).  You are under grace, so shall you sin because of this?  Again, unthinkable!  Whom you obey is your master.  It cannot be otherwise.  If you obey sin’s lusts, sin and death are your master.  If you obey righteousness, Christ and life are your master (Ro 6:14-16).  There’s really no room here for complacent, presumptuous faith.  And there’s a reason for that.

It comes back to the very word we have been considering:  Destined.  We might consider that this term is set before us in the middle voice, that curious Greek construct which speaks of a certain self-interest or self-involvement to the action.  In some applications, it would suggest I act for myself.  And that might actually fit here.  But in this case, the I who acts is God.  God destines for Himself, and that has distinct impact on how we should hear this word.  It has this base meaning of setting in place, not so very different from how one sets food on the table.  That’s not, I should think, a particularly exciting, nor even apt description of what’s happening in our salvation, or the obtaining thereof.  It’s not that God sets the table, and then we must decide if we wish to eat or not.  It’s stronger.  God is acting in self-interest, although we have such enormous benefit of His action.  In this middle voice of destiny, it’s a matter of God appointing for His own use.

We speak of the church as the called out, the ekklesia.  We can’t very well call ourselves out.  We are called from without, and we go in answer.  We are separated out for God’s exclusive use.  That’s what’s happening in salvation.  You are no longer servants to sin and death.  You are servants of your Lord, your God and King.  You have been appointed for His use – for His use alone.  This He has determined shall be done.  This He has ordained for you. 

You know, we have this idea that ordination is only for pastors, or perhaps for pastors along with elders, as they are the chief officers over God’s earthly church.  But what we need to realize is that every Christian is ordained – ordained by God.  Yes, there are those who are particularly equipped and selected for the greater duties of these overseeing offices.  The undershepherd has higher responsibilities, requiring a stricter accounting, but provided more effectively, I should hope, with those gifts needful to the office.  For, as we often observe, whom God ordains, He equips.  But understand, dear ones, that this applies right on down the line to the lowliest of believers.  In that moment of salvation came the chief equipage, indeed, by my understanding I would say at least slightly prior to that moment.  For, if we have indeed received this gift of grace, it is because God the Father, at the behest of God the Son, sent forth God the Spirit to take up His abode in the temple of our soul, and the first step of making that temple fit for occupancy has been this receiving of salvation.  Christ’s righteousness has been applied to your account.  Your penalties have been paid. 

But there is still the long (from our perspective) work of sanctification, and here is where the indwelling Holy Spirit of God is even more intimately involved.  It takes us to another middle voice sort of experience, where we find ourselves working together with God in the process.  We can’t possibly do it without Him.  Arguably, we can’t even make any meaningful contribution to the process.  I could go back to that image I’ve used so often, of ‘helping’ my father work on some project in the garage.  Some help.  How helpful is it to have somebody who requires three or four tries to retrieve the requested tool?  Or who contributes but grudgingly, wanting more than anything to be doing just about anything else?  And yet, a loving father makes the effort at inclusion.  And the son, though resentful at the time, looks back long years later with appreciation.  There’s something of this, I think, in sanctification.  If we suppose it a thing depending on our own efforts, we will know only frustration and failure.  If we suppose it’s going to happen without us, we slip into presumption, and that’s a dangerous place.  But as we labor alongside our God, as the Spirit goes about His work of training, cleansing, reminding us who we are and Whose we are, things improve.  The place starts to shape up rather nicely.  Of course it was going to turn out that way.  God has appointed us to salvation.  He has ordained us, as Peter says, to be a royal priesthood, a chosen people, His own possession, now a people with a purpose:  To proclaim His excellencies – He who called us out of darkness into His own, most marvelous light (1Pe 2:9).

You are on a mission, a mission from God.  You have been ordained to this pursuit.  You have been most thoroughly equipped to succeed in all that He has ordained.  That is not to say the outcome depends on you.  It does not.  God remains entirely independent, and cannot find it needful to depend on you, certainly, o, fallible one.  But He has ordained.  He has laid things out in advance for you to do them.  Not to worry.  He already knows your failures, and has those well taken into account.  Where you blow it, there are others who will not.  But those works are not about making sure His plans succeed.  They are about sanctification.   They are about improvements in your structure, in your strength of faith, in your confidence.   All of this plays out in these few verses, doesn’t it?  In the next couple of sections, I shall, Lord willing, explore some of these ideas more fully.

For now, though, rest in that assurance that is yours in this simple truth:  God ordained that you would obtain salvation through Christ Jesus your Lord.  And that, you have.  It cannot be otherwise.

A Purposeful Ambiguity (08/07/22)

Moving on to verse 10, we have once again the imagery of sleep and wakefulness, those activities associated with darkness and light, night and day, and thereby coming as characteristics of sonship.  Of course, we have had the stronger significance of these terms in view as well, as Paul has answered questions concerning what happens to those who die, and what advantage, if any, pertains to those alive at Christ’s return.

Darkness, we may recall, is largely defined by absence.  It is that condition in which light is absent.  Symbolically, it is the condition which lacks knowledge and understanding, particularly as pertains to God.  We might also see it as a condition which lacks reason, or wisdom by which to apply that understanding.  It is an altogether unhappy state of affairs, and death, presented as sleeping, is perhaps the most absolute absence of understanding, as the body lies unoccupied, devoid of thought and feeling.  It is not, as God, through Paul, has once more assured us, a permanent state.  It is not the second death.  It is but a respite.  That does not, however, make it a happy affair, necessarily.  Perhaps so, but who can really say?  I certainly can’t.  Haven’t been there.

But we are looking at sleep, or the state of being asleep, and that, even apart from the seeming finality of death, has its absence.  It is the absence of action, certainly, as we are in repose.  But it is also an absence of awareness, of preparedness.  The five foolish virgins were accounted foolish on what grounds?  Because they had fallen asleep while awaiting the bridegroom’s arrival, and as such, the oil in their lamps had gone out.  They weren’t paying attention.  They weren’t going about the necessary preparations.  And so, they weren’t ready.  It’s a dreadful scene, isn’t it?  They knocked and knocked, but no entrance would be given.  What happened?  Were they not on the list of invitees?  But, you could see their names right there!  And yet, all was lost.  Similar concerns are voiced in regard to the servant left in charge during his master’s long absence.  There are painful implications here.  There is that sense that however well he may have been doing for the larger part of that period, if he is found slacking in that last moment, all that came before will not matter.

These are images and lessons that cannot help but stir up a bit of unrest in us.  Isn’t that somewhat the mindset that the Muslim has settled on, that it all boils down to that last moment?  If the last moment is found wanting, then all of life before that will have carried no weight whatsoever.  Then there are those banking on a deathbed conversion, supposing that the reverse holds sufficiently true, and they can put off professions of faith until life is pretty much done.  Of course, that has a certain gamble to it, that there will be sufficient warning and consciousness in which to make such confession when the time comes.  So, we have this constant exhorting to alertness, even as here in this passage, or its lead-up.  “Let us be alert and sober” (1Th 5:6).  Don’t fall asleep now!  Remember where you live, what surrounds this encampment, and remain alert.  Be on guard against those spiritual forces of darkness.  Yes, the battle belongs to the Lord, but you, o, warrior, belong to His army.  You have been vested with His own breastplate, His own helmet, to stand as glorious guard in His house.

And as we saw yesterday, you have all been ordained, all who have believed on Christ, and obtained that salvation purposed and purchased for them through Him.  I review all of this because as we come to this verse, we have had both aspects of sleeping and wakefulness put before us, and the question must arise as to which it is that Paul now has in view.  “Whether we are awake or asleep, we may live together with Him.”  Had this come back at verse 4, there would be no question but that it was physical death and life that were being considered.  But it didn’t.  There was that shift to matters of slackness or alertness, frivolity or seriousness.  Day or night, lads, whose sons be ye?  Well, you are sons, then!  Show it.  Do those things you see in your Father. 

Most of our translations, where they attempt to make a choice, lean toward the death and life aspect of the image, and understandably so.  Here we have had clear-cut answer.  Dead or alive, we shall meet the Lord in the air.  The dead shall arise first, and the living shall be caught up afterwards, a cloud arising to meet our God (1Th 5:3).  Mind you, it’s not just reconstituted bodies, following after that which Ezekiel experienced (Eze 37:4-6).  This is a new creation, even as we have been made spiritually new creations.  The old is gone, and the new has come.  The corporeal body is not fit for eternity, and never can be.  It must put on incorruption, as Paul explains it later to the Corinthians (1Co 15).  Even if we are among those caught up to the heavens in that last event, there will, there must be, an end to this physical body of corruption, and a taking up of the new body that befits the new spirit that has been within us, a body like to that of our Lord at His resurrection, capable of being recognized, but with capabilities utterly foreign to this present structure.  And so, we will, at long last, be truly alive in body and soul alike.

There are, however, a few outliers that consider the alternative possibility for our passage.  The Darby translation is perhaps the most clearly seen.  “Whether we may be watching or sleep.”  Okay, even there, sleep has been left ambiguous, hasn’t it?  Perhaps he finds the contrast between being alert and being dead?  It would certainly mix the metaphors more than they have been mixed already.  But I have to wonder if Paul has been entirely intentional in leaving this ambiguous conclusion for us.  Is he speaking of being alive or dead, or is he speaking of being alert or slothful?  Is it not just possible that he is speaking of both?  He has been, by turns, considering both, so in conclusion, would he not seek to tie those two threads together?

Now we should have to be careful here, in pursuing this possibility.  Again, the dead or alive aspect is clear cut.  He’s already answered that.  And one could argue that he’s made that answer basis for encouraging the sons of the day to act like the sons they are.  You will live, come what may, but act like sons:  Be alert!  Be sober!  Go on with the business of your Father.  Walk as sons of the light.  Walk worthy.  It’s a common encouragement from Paul, isn’t it?

Here’s the thing.  All of these issues with being found worthy, with being found ready, actively pursuing a godly life, can lead us into some serious doubts, if we are not wise.  That is not to say that we ought not to be about such pursuits.  Of course we should!  God has made that clear enough, hasn’t He?  No one wants to be the foolish virgin, or the servant cast out for neglect.  No!  We are not to become presumptuous of our God’s saving grace poured out on us.  The answer to salvation cannot be to go and sin the more.  What evidence of grace can there be in that?  Oh, yes, He may forgive, if indeed salvation was ever truly ours.  Nay, He will.  But then, too, if this is our condition, we can be equally certain that our own repentance shall come, and that, as a conscious choice of our own will.  I could argue that such choice would prove impossible to us were it not for the Spirit indwelling, and in fact, I would.  But that doesn’t alter the fact that we so chose.  We repented.  We sought that forgiveness we know as our rebirthright.  But how do we know?  The Spirit brings to mind all that our Savior said and did.  And we discover anew our confidence in that bright hope.  We remember ourselves.  We return to showing our sonship.

So, I don’t find it unreasonable to hear Paul saying here that whether we have succeeded in being alert in that final moment, or whether we have indeed let slumber get the best of us, yet we shall know that salvation ordained for us.  Yet we shall live together with Him.  Now, some might take exception to this idea.  In fact, I’m quite sure many do.  But let us consider, just for a moment, the case of Peter, James, and John.  They had been with Jesus on the mountaintop at His transfiguration, and what happened?  They slumbered.  They were with Him in the garden, as He agonized in prayer, contemplating the events that must come with the dawn, and what happened?  Asked to pray, they slept instead.  Multiple times.  There with Him at His arrest, knowing because He had told them quite clearly, that He was being set up for execution, what did they do?  They ran.  In Peter’s case, they denied even knowing Him, let alone being His followers.  Now, I grant you, these were not last moments for those three men, but they could have been, couldn’t they?  Those guards could have chased them down and had retribution.  They were, after all, armed rebels, even if it was but one sorry sword.  And they had drawn blood.  No court would have bothered them for putting things to rest then and there.  Or, they could have merely suffered fatal accident in the panicked flight from the scene.  Would they have foregone salvation for that last-moment error?  I think not.

Again, none of this is excuse for becoming complacent.  Complacency is presumption, and God is not inclined to favor presumption.  Do we seek to keep short accounts?  Assuredly.  But we must also remember that our hearts are wickedly deceptive, and we are horrifyingly adept at occluding our own sight when it comes to our sins.  Oh, we can identify them readily enough in those around us, those sins from which we ourselves suffer.  Indeed, we will find them most unforgivable in those we see.  But somehow, we fail to see ourselves.  We lose sight of that warning that by the measure in which we judge, so shall we be judged.  It should make us shudder.  It should leave us exceedingly cautious of rendering judgments when the beam in our own eye is so large.

But there is also that counterbalance which John provides.  “We shall know by this [our love] that we are of the truth, and shall assure our hearts before Him, in whatever our heart condemns us; for God is greater than our heart, and knows all things” (1Jn 3:19-20).  Note well the necessary ingredient of true and active love here.  That is our assurance.  That is our breastplate, as Paul just set out before us.  But the conclusion must also line the helmet of salvation upon our heads:  In whatever our heart condemns us, God is greater.  Indeed, in this instance, our heart’s condemning message can and should stir in us the repentance that is due.  We may, if indeed we are sons of light, hear the voice of the Spirit speaking in our conscience, bringing to mind that which must needs be addressed.  The enemy might whisper in such a way as to make the warning seem condemning, but the Truth remains.  God tests in full expectation of a passing grade.  Indeed, He so equips us as to pretty well ensure a passing grade.

And so, even with this assurance which Paul supplies, and encourages us to apply to one another continuously – use as needed – so as to build one another up, we have the call to keep going.  Remain alert as best you are able.  Be on guard as best you are able.  But don’t allow proper regret over your failures to become doubts as to your salvation.  Don’t let doubts about yourself become doubts about God.  Keep going.  Get back up and get back to doing what you have been doing.  The building isn’t finished.  The enemy may make his assaults, and seek to distract you from that task, but don’t let him.  I think I mentioned Nehemiah yesterday, with that favorite footnote of mine, to the effect that what we see in Israel rebuilding the walls is what we should see in our own spiritual life.  We ought to work as if God will not, and we ought to pray as if we could not.  What am I saying?  We give it our all, even knowing our weakness.  And knowing our weakness, we pray with that urgency we would have seeing nothing we can do to avert disaster.  The power of darkness comes in like a flood, yes, but the battle belongs to the Lord.  We stand in this glorious armor of faith, hope, and love, and we remain alert to the gathering darkness around us.  But the battle belongs to the Lord.  He is our King.  He is our victorious Warrior.  His is the honor, and the power, and the dominion, and the glory forever.  And we are His, chosen by Him as His elect bride, to dwell with Him in the security and the sanctity of heaven forever and ever.  Amen.

That hasn’t come with conditions.  It has come with a promise, with an oath.  It has come with the full assurance of God Who cannot lie.  It’s been something of a theme song for me of late, but still:  “I have called you by name.  I have called you.  You are Mine.”  No doubts.  No so long as.  He has spoken.   His Word has gone forth.  And the Word has accomplished all His purpose.  “Of those whom You gave Me, I have lost not a one.”  No, nor could He, for no one and no thing can snatch us from His hand.  Hear again those final words, that one final word, really:  “It is finished!”  Debt paid, record cleared.  This one is Mine.  Now, keep going.  Keep doing what you know to do.  Keep standing in the promise of God.

Community Service (08/08/22)

Verse 11 gives us the application of this whole section from the beginning of chapter 5.  What must capture our thinking in this is that the application is not one of inward security and growth, although that is assuredly a byproduct of the whole lesson.  No, the focus is now outward.  We are instructed as to duty towards our fellow believers, our brothers and sisters who are likewise sons of God.  What have we got, then?  We have two close-coupled commands given:  Encourage and edify. 

Now, in boiling it down to those two items, I am making choices as to how the two commands are to be interpreted and understood.  The first term, parakaleite, has a fairly wide range of meaning, and we can readily see that there is connection here to the Paraklete, the Holy Spirit sent to us, to what end?  “He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I said to you” (Jn 14:26).  “He will bear witness of Me” (Jn 15:26).  He “will convict the world concerning sin, and righteousness, and judgment” (Jn 16:8).  “He, the Spirit of Truth, will guide you into all truth; for He will not speak on His own initiative, but whatever He hears, He will speak; and He will disclose to you what is to come.  He shall glorify Me; for He shall take of Mine, and shall disclose it to you” (Jn 16:13-14).

So, the term has, at base, this sense of calling alongside.  But who is calling whom?  In application to the Spirit, I think we must conclude that it is the Spirit calling us.  Psst!  Hey, c’mere kid, I need to tell you something.  There’s something you need to learn, something you’ve forgotten perhaps.  And so, we have that instructive aspect to the matter.  He teaches, primarily by way of reminding us of those things we already learned, but have forgotten, or perhaps he sheds the light of clearer understanding on something we learned but never truly understood.  Perhaps He teaches by supplying necessary correction where there has been misunderstanding of the lesson.

But we have also that understanding of the Spirit as our Comforter, which is the way the King James translates our word in those verses already mentioned.  Well, yes.  There is comfort in being reminded of God’s Truth, the Truth.  We can get all sorts of mixed up in our thoughts, in our misunderstanding, in our unintentional imbibing of the ways of the world around us.  Darkness leaks in when we let our light dim down.

I just had to replace the batteries in our driveway lights, which, after several years of duty, had lost their ability to recharge.  What happens?  The driveway lights grow dimmer.  Their light does not shine so brightly, nor for so long, and the darkness crowds in that little bit closer.  Eventually, given no replenishment, the light barely flickers for the first few moments of the evening, and then, just gives up.  It needs encouraging.  It needs building up.  And that is exactly what we have set before us here.  Your fellow lights have need of encouraging.  You have need of encouraging.  Perhaps you’ve had a dark day.  Something has snuck through and struck you a blow, and your spirits are low.  Maybe your confidence has been foolishly set on yourself rather than God, and when failure came, when opposition arose or disappointment cast you down, you forgot where your armor was and how to put it on.

But somebody came alongside.  Yes, fundamentally, we can and should give the credit to the Holy Spirit, our Helper and Counselor.  He reminds.  He recalls to mind who we are and Whose we are, and strength returns bit by bit.  But as often as not, this same Spirit indwelling our brothers and sisters, He sends another to speak aloud the reminder we need to hear.  That brother may not know that he is delivering a reminder.  That sister may not realize that her words are a healing balm to your soul in that moment.  The pastor, preaching the sermon God gave him to speak on this particular day, does not know that his words are delivering correction and healing to you, personally.  If you look up, you are most unlikely to find him giving you some meaningful look to reinforce the sense that, “This one’s for you, brother.”  No.  God arranges and ordains these things.  He Who knows the end from the beginning, and is perfect in Wisdom, is perfectly able and willing to arrange these seemingly chance encounters to apply healing to your wounds and correction to your thoughts.  He knows what you need, recall, before you even thing to ask.  He still knows, even when you completely forget to ask.

So, recognize what has happened.  Your brother, your sister, has been called alongside to you in calling you alongside to them.  Whether they do so knowingly or moved by the invisible prodding of the Spirit, they have done you the great service of bringing consolation and encouragement.  They have spoken something that instructed you in your moment of need, even if you’ve been doing your utmost to keep that need under wraps; even if you’ve been more or less successful at doing so.

But you, too, have a like responsibility to so act in relation to your brother.  You, too, are an instrument in the hands of a loving God, and equipped by Him to speak with like encouragement and like instruction into the life of your brother, your sister.  This is, after all, what we are told these gifts the Spirit supplies us with are actually for.  They aren’t primarily for self-administration.  They aren’t for amusement, certainly.  They may have their application to the self, but it is secondary at best.  No, the fundamental purpose of these gifts is that we may edify our fellow Christian, build up one another, as we have it here in the NASB.  Promote growth!  Lend your strength and courage to their task of building this temple of God in which we are set as living stones.

Hear it.  Hear it strongly.  Turn outward.  Stop wallowing in yourself and consider those around you.  They are more than just passing strangers.  They are more than mere acquaintances we see once a week and soon forget.  They are more than nameless faces in the crowd at church.  They are family.  Some, as it stands, we know better than others.  Very few, I would venture, do we know in any depth at all, let alone as we ought.  Would you say the same of your siblings in the flesh?  Would you say the same, even, of your coworkers?  I bet for many of us, we know more about our coworkers and their trials than we do about these who should be our nearest, dearest companions outside our own households.  And for some of us, it may be they should be even nearer and dearer than that.  For some of us abide in households that are not households of faith.  I suppose in every earthly family there must be a first individual that comes to Christ, at least for that subset of families for which at least one individual has done so.  It’s a lonely spot to be in, and difficult.  It was difficult for those first converts in Asia Minor, or in Macedonia and Achaia.  It was terribly difficult in Rome.  It hasn’t really gotten all that much easier in many regions of the world.  Even here in the West it grows difficult, but it has not as yet become a deadly thing to confess belief.  It’s costly, yes.  Friends and family may cut us off, or we may find it needful to cut them off.  But we have now this new family, though we find it so difficult to really connect with them.

Most of that, I dare say, is on us.  All of it, I suppose, and that, of necessity.  Who else is there to blame?  But as individuals, particularly here in the Northeast, the individualism that is somewhat inherent in American thinking is at a peak.  We don’t really have all that much to do with neighbors, with strangers and outsiders.  We become insular.  We have our tight circle, perhaps no more than one or two, and them likely of our household, and beyond that, while we may have nodding familiarity, and gladly acknowledge that here is another human being, yet we rarely get beyond that.  Tap into the average after-church conversation over coffee, and it stays on surface chatter, talk of work and weather, but rarely if ever dipping into deeper matters, let alone diving in.  Only rarely are you going to find the sort of one-on-one encouraging and building up that is not merely advised here, but commanded.

Do this.  Be constantly doing this.  The One New Man gives us the sense of it.  “You must steadily build up one another one on one.”  You must.  If you can only act from self-interest, then consider this:  If you don’t supply your part in so building up your brother, then soon, there shall be no brother to build you up in turn.  But I would hope it doesn’t need that desperate condition to move you.  It ought not have to be that way.  Make this your steady state:  Seek that one whom you can call to your side and offer a bit of wisdom, a bit of comfort.  It’s not about showing your chops, and if it becomes so, you have failed.  Your message will not be received as comfort but as advertising.  A blinking neon sign reading, “look at me!” will not comfort, will not instruct, will not build up your brother.  But a quiet word of understanding, delivered not as conscious correction, but merely as willingly shared spiritual matter, may do far more than you suppose.

Seek to be about doing that which will promote spiritual growth in your brother.  Seek to know them well enough that you might actually recognize when there is need, for he is unlikely to be breaking down in tears over at the back table.  He is unlikely to be making serious effort to let his trials be obvious.  Not around here, he’s not.  Far more likely, he’s put on his Sunday face, keeping a stiff upper lip and all that.  Ask him how he’s doing, and he’ll say, “fine,” just like everyone else will do.  But let the Spirit use you.  I don’t say let Him inform you what’s really up with your brother.  That’s not the point, necessarily.  It’s an openness to being that instrument in God’s hand that can apply the consoling Word, that can provide the comforting balm of godly counsel, or merely a word spoken at the right time.  You honestly don’t need in-depth knowledge of what’s been happening to supply that word.  You need to be godly, moved by God, and willing to what He has set up for you to do.

That is not to say that community, and deepening fellowship are not the goal, or at least a goal.  They are.  We are family, and there’s no escaping that.  We share communion as family.  We don’t, in general, take our cup and bread, and go wandering our separate ways to partake in independent isolation.  Where is the ‘co’ in that?  It’s together.  It’s mutual.  It’s shared.  There is something powerfully comforting and reassuring in hearing that unique sound of the whole congregation partaking as one.  It gives us visceral reminder of who we are.  And it turns us that much more firmly towards our God and Father, and Jesus our loving Lord.

As if to reinforce this duty just that little bit more, Paul shifts his wording just a bit in the two commands given us.  As to encouraging, we have a simple term meaning ‘one another’.  It’s all well and good to encourage yourself, I suppose, and sometimes, that’s all you’ve got.  But it’s not the intent.  The intent is outward, shared, mutual, communal.  If you are only encouraging yourself, then likely, you’re only hearing yourself.  I mean, yes, the Spirit can surely speak to you directly, and does so.  But if that’s the only way we’re getting input, then soon enough our thoughts will become corrupted.  No, we haven’t corrupted the Spirit.  That is impossible, and you know it.  But we readily corrupt our thoughts by concluding that whatever we may be thinking at the moment must surely be from the Spirit.  We fall into arrogance and presumption, and it is a terrible fall.

If, instead, we are sharing our thoughts and beliefs with our brothers, there is space for correction if our thoughts have wandered astray.  There is a place for strengthening and encouraging when our thoughts are on track.  And add to this the opportunity to receive new ideas, ways of seeing things that perhaps we haven’t considered.  For our brothers, while of the same Father and indwelt of the same Spirit, have their own unique perspectives, their own unique body of experience from which to draw and shape and supply application to what the Word has revealed.  And we need that.  We need both the correction, and the supplemental input.  So, encourage one another.  It’s insufficient, and in some ways downright dangerous to settle for encouraging yourself only.  The heart, once again, is wickedly deceptive, and its whispers may drown out what the Spirit is quietly saying.

And then, we move to edification, and we have this curious construct of ‘one and one’.  The NASB simply renders it one another again, but as I already quoted, the ONM keeps that phrase more evident.  “Build up one another one on one.”  Get this!  You can’t be building up one on one by preaching, or by sitting under preaching.  This is most needful activity, by all means.  It is how we are called to develop.  But it’s not the sole exercise of our faith, nor the sole satisfying of our duty.  We have a call, a command, to be one on one, here.  Edify one on one.  Small groups are a lovely thing, and offer an opportunity to get to know one another more fully, to have those moments of mutual encouragement and exposure to differing perspectives that simply can’t happen in the setting of a Sunday service.  But it’s still not one on one, is it?

If small groups require a bit more intentionality, this business of one on one building requires more.  For one, it’s going to take a greater expenditure of time, unless we are artificially limiting the application to a single other individual.  Even then, there would need to be more intentionality, lest conversation remain, as before, on surface things of work and household maintenance and the like.  It requires a certain amount of determined effort to move conversation into deeper channels, matters of faith and understanding, matters of exploring what God is saying and doing.  There’s risk to it, isn’t there?  If we open up, we expose ourselves.  The insight we thought to share might be rejected.  It may be that it needed to be rejected in loving correction.  That’s certainly possible.  It may be that it simply is not received due to some misunderstanding.  Or maybe it’s just the wrong time for that individual to hear that message.  Maybe it’s one of those things that might sink in later, but right now, no one’s receiving.  That can hurt, but it’s a superficial hurt, really.  It’s a blow to the ego, and may lead to setbacks requiring that same encouraging and edifying from others that we have been trying to deliver in our own right.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s part of the problem.  We’ve been trying too hard.  We’ve been speaking truth, perhaps, but from wrong motive, seeking to show our chops, display our wisdom, rather than simply speaking as God leads.  It’s a possibility, certainly.  But don’t give up.  Don’t just crawl into your shell and decide to be a go-it-alone Christian.  That’s no answer.

No, God has so wisely arranged that our life as a believer, serving in this outpost of His kingdom, is not a life spent in desperate isolation, but a life spent amongst a community of believers, a family of like faith, whether there be any genealogical connection or not.  We have friends of like faith.  We serve alongside, within a family of like faith.  We have those who can and will encourage and edify us, given opportunity, and we are given opportunity to encourage and edify others.  This is the Lord’s doing, and it’s marvelous in our sight!

You have a duty.  We have a duty.  It is a commanded duty.  Encourage one another.  Get one on one with each other and edify, and be edified.  You are not always the giver in these encounters.  Neither are you always the receiver.  Every one of your family members has been given gifts by this same Spirit, and those gifts were given to supply these very things for you, just as your gifts were given to supply those things for them.

Father, I thank You for the experience of this which I have felt in the last day or so.  It has not fallen out along lines I would have preferred or expected, but it has been very much the case that encouragement was received, instruction as well, and from it came growth, a building up, even a repairing.  I know not why matters had to take the course they did.  Perhaps I needed to see myself more clearly in order that I could see my need.  I don’t know.  I do know that You have, as always, worked things out wonderfully well, and I give You thanks.  I give You all the glory for the outcome, and yes, I ask forgiveness for my part in having made such a mess of it by my own poor response to things.  But You know.  You knew.  And You have worked all things well.  What shall I say to this?  Thank You, Lord.  I am Yours.  Use me as You will.