Provision of Fellowship (04/23/23)

My thoughts on these verses shall begin with something that remains more or less in the background of those verses.  The instructions we are given here cannot be obeyed in isolation.  They have no point if we are in isolation one from another.  I grant you, if you are alone in your home with no neighbors and no friends, you might be at peace with yourself.  For many that would not be the case, but for some, this might seem bliss, at least in the short run.  But you alone cannot be at peace among yourselves, which is our first command here.  There’s no among, so with whom would you put this into practice? 

Now, that is presenting the point in what one might suppose is a relatively positive light.  If I cannot pursue the things commanded here, at least I am not giving cause for anybody else to do so, right?  I’m just here by myself.  What harm could I be doing?  Oh, but you are doing harm to the body of Christ by your going it alone.  Barnes actually makes the point, and in such fashion as rather took me by surprise.  The experience of each Christian, he advises, is the ‘property of the Church’.  What?  He goes on to observe that your experience is a gift given you for service to your Master and ours, to be used in serving your brother.  In this fashion we sustain one another.  Now, I doubt you’ve thought of it from this perspective any more than I have, but seen this way, it’s quite the wake-up call, isn’t it?

It’s a point to consider, certainly, and I think we need to consider it in matters beyond that of allowing ourselves to become a church of one.  It has much wider application.  You have been given gifts for service.  When we think of that, we probably tend to think to passages such as those in 1Corinthians, that lay out these spiritual gifts.  And, if you’re from a Pentecostal background, you probably gravitate towards gifts like tongues, prophecy, maybe a word of knowledge, or something like that.  You want those supernatural thrills.  But here’s the thing:  All of those gifts which Paul mentions are spoken of as being manifestations of the Spirit.  And observe how he introduces his point.  “There are diversities of gifts, differences of ministries, diversities of activities; but the same Spirit, the same Lord, the same God working all in all” (1Co 12:4-7), and what is given to each one is given for the profit of all.  You can’t profit all by tending solely to yourself.

Yes, his discussion begins with those more spectacular gifts which we tend to think of as gifts of the Spirit, and then debate whether they are still extent or not.  But move further on.  God has made appointments in the church (1Co 12:28).  These include leadership gifts, like apostles, prophets, and teachers, and only after that do we discuss miracles and healings.  Pause.  Those are secondary to the proclamation of God’s Word!  Don’t lose sight of that.  Don’t get it turned around as so many have done since Christ first began His ministry!  Remember those crowds chasing after Him subsequent to the feeding of the thousands?  I am failing to find the reference this morning, but there was the point made that they weren’t following Him to learn of God, but to get the free meal.  There are those who would reject Jesus outright should He choose not to heal them of their malady.  There are entire movements within the realm of Christian faith that would suppose any lack of healing must be evidence of a concomitant lack of faith.  Never mind that Jesus Himself pointed out the fallacy of such thinking.

But even with such things as miracles and healings, Paul is not done discussing what the Spirit gives the body in its various members.  We come to the truly exciting gifts such as helps and administrations.  Ooh.  There’s the stuff to get your blood coursing.  Yet, these mundanities are every bit as much gifts of the Spirit as those more attention-grabbing, or more directly ministry-related gifts.  We need these.  The body needs administering, organization.  The body needs helps, because in every body there are members in need.  And that, I think, is where this point Barnes has been making really comes into play.  What you have been through in the course of your experience, and particularly in your experience of adversity as a believer, has given you wisdom, hopefully.  And wisdom, too, is a gift of the Spirit.  It is one of the better gifts, I think:  This not only knowing what is right and true, but being able to see how it applies to the present situation.  So often, wisdom comes by hindsight.  We’ve been through this before.  If nothing else, we know an awful lot of things that won’t work.  But, by the grace of God, we’ve also been granted to see what does, and what does is ever and always in accord with His instruction and His gifting of the power to stand, to live godly in this world, come what may.  And you, having learned your lesson, are now positioned to impart your learning to another who stands in present need of that same understanding.  How awful, then, if you are not there to be used by your Lord to provide that understanding.  Oh, He can assuredly find another to make up for your failure, but that doesn’t reduce the awfulness of it.

We are our brother’s keeper, countering Cain’s snide defense when caught by God after murdering his brother.  That was utter failure on his part, obviously, a moral failing from which he never recovered.  But look at this in the light of Jesus’ exposition on the law when He preached.  “I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother shall be guilty before the court.  Whoever calls his brother a fool shall be guilty enough to go to hell” (Mt 5:22).  This, it seems to me, fits into that same category, that same commandment.  How are you murdering your brother?  By negligence.  By failing to make use of the gifts given you that you might preserve him and move him towards maturity in this shared faith.

And if that is insufficient cause to haul you out of your isolation tank, consider this:  You might very well be the one in need.  And immediately, pride rises up and convinces you, “No.  Not me.  Never!”  And isn’t this already evidence to the contrary?  For one, I should have to say the very fact of your isolation marks you out as one of those Paul calls upon the community to correct and thereby rescue.  You may not feel yourself unruly, but by the true sense of the word, you are proving exactly that.  You are out of rank, out of position.  How can you be standing in your ranks when you won’t even get yourself to the camp?  But that is, in many ways, only the worst presenting of the disease.  These three needs that Paul sets before us:  Admonishing the unruly, comforting the fainthearted, and upholding the weak, are effectively symptoms of the same underlying malady.  We might consider them as being presented in descending order of the disease’s progress.

Consider.  When you cut yourself off from community, despondency is the inevitable result.  I don’t care how strong you think yourself, nor how introverted.  Man is a social creature, and the time will come when the need for social contact will assert itself in us.  I see it in the workplace.  Understand that I have been working primarily out of my house for well over a decade now.  I am not entirely cut off from humanity, by any stretch, but I know the sense of being cut off from my coworkers.  We don’t get that face-to-face time.  We don’t know those moments that inevitably arise in the workplace, which are hardly work-related, and yet contribute strongly to the sense of team.  And trust me, I despise those sorts of management exercises that attempt to artificially create that sense.  It either happens organically, or it doesn’t happen.  It’s one thing to provide opportunity for organic growth of comradery.  It’s quite another to attempt to program it into your individual contributors.

I do recall, however, seeing how this isolated existence produced in others a sense of being put upon, or excluded, or overlooked.  Lacking all the usual sensory clues, and left with little more than text messages, or maybe brief calls that by their nature remain focused on some immediate detail of the work, you lose perspective.  You don’t feel appreciated.  You soon become convinced that your job is under threat.  It’s all silliness, but it happens.  I looked upon it in wonder back in the day when I was still primarily in the office.  You could see it happening in this coworker who was stuck working from some distance.  Now?  I have to constantly remind myself, because I feel the exact same sort of nonsense thinking arising on my own part.  So, there are occasions where I need to humble myself enough to seek out reassurance of a sort.  It may come across as pathetic.  I don’t know.  But it is needful to get that corrective input to break the cyclical feedback of isolation.

Of late, we’ve been witnessing this reality on the grand scale.  Cut off community, and despondency results.  It cannot be otherwise.  So, what happens when you tell entire populations to stay home and avoid contact?  What happens when we intentionally deprive one another of visual cues, of cheerful interactions, of chance meetings when we greet one another and discuss such deep and meaningful subjects as the weather, and how’s the kids?  What happens is despondency.  There’s a reason we are seeing reports of increased suicide rates.  The mental health industry must be doing a booming trade, because most everybody needs therapy now.  Mind you, most can’t afford it, so there’s that.  But seriously, what a sick and destructive social experiment this has proved to be.  We shall be feeling the fallout of it for decades to come, supposing we last that long.

But let us turn back to our embassy, the Church.  The same rule applies.  Cut yourself off from community, and despondency is the inevitable, unavoidable result.  And brother, this ought not to be!  We are called to fellowship.  It’s throughout the instruction manual!  Yes, yes, you will get those who adamantly reject any idea of church membership because, “It’s not in the Bible.”  And they are right, so far as that goes.  Nowhere do we find direct instruction to maintain membership rolls, and keep tidy track of who’s in and who’s not.  And yet, how does one expel from fellowship without a clear delineation of them having been in fellowship in the first place?  How does an elder lead and rule, such as the concept of ruling applies in this setting, if there is no clear idea of who is to be governed?  Look, even in the common imagery of sheep and shepherd, we are taught that the shepherd knows his own, and his own know him.  There’s membership in the flock.  Other sheep may look the same to the less aware, but the shepherd can tell at a glance.  Nope.  That one’s not mine.  This one is.  

Then, too, we have the call not to forsake gathering together (Heb 10:25).  And do you see the reason given?  We need to be there, encouraging one another – and all the more as the day draws near.  Cut off community, and despondency results.  Gather together and put your gifts to use in encouraging your brother.  What results?  You, too, receive encouragement.  You receive it from the Word preached.  You receive it from the shared experience of worship, from the simple awareness that no, you are not alone to face the world, but are in the company of many brothers who likewise serve our Lord and rejoice in Him.  You receive it from that brother who exercises his gift to minister to your need.

We are called a community of faith for a reason, and that is because we are in fact a community.  We can’t be a community if each of us remains isolated and aloof from the others.  We cannot be a community if our only connection is via the internet.  Sorry.  Doesn’t work.  I don’t care how much the younger generation insists that this is community.  It is not.  It is a poor substitute, and feeds exactly the sort of feedback cycles I have discussed in terms of the workplace.  The necessary cues to properly interpret mood and intent are entirely missing, and emojis can’t fix it.  It’s all artificial and inhuman.  You find even those who have invented these sundry so-called social platforms are either antisocial by nature, or wouldn’t let their own kids near the stuff.  Kind of telling, I should think.  Rather like those many teachers I have seen over the years that wouldn’t dream of putting their own kids in their schools, or any other.  Nope.  Home-school them.  It’s the only safe course.  And that’s coming from the insiders.  Hmm.  Perhaps we ought to pay attention.  But I digress.

We have a duty to ourselves, a totally pragmatic, totally self-involved reason to see to it that we partake of the gift of the faith community.  Call it enlightened self-interest.  That’s not enough, but sometimes we need the less pure motives to kick us into gear.  And then, perhaps, we can remember what we’ve lost.  Then, perhaps, God can get hold of us and shake us back into useful form.  Why, after all, should you sit home alone and complain of the loneliness?  Why howl at the darkness in despondent singleness?  Light and fellowship are right there, waiting for you.  They have always been right there.  They have, perhaps, been overly polite in leaving you to yourself, that being your wish.  But listen up!  YOU are a moral agent.  You need to decide and to act.  You are responsible for your choice to isolate.  You will have to be the one to break free of that isolation.  We can’t do it for you.  We don’t take prisoners back to camp.  We break prisoners out of their imprisonment to join us in true freedom.  When you’re ready, call.

And for us in the fellowship?   Don’t lose sight of this:  Our brothers are our concern.  The commands we are seeing here are not some job description for the pastor.  They are not the requisite duties of the elder board.  They are the common, shared duty of every one of us.  Our brothers are our concern, and as Calvin advises us, we should therefore seek to admonish, correct, and encourage.  We should seek to know our brothers sufficiently well as to know what they need, where they are at spiritually.  And then, knowing, we act.  We owe it to one another.  We owe it to our Lord, Who has gifted us to minister in just such a situation as this, at just such a time as this.

And to echo last week’s sermon, Blessed is that servant who is found doing his job when his master returns.  Whether that applies properly to matters of social justice, I’ll leave for another time and place, if ever I happen to get to it. But in the house?  Isn’t that where this servant was set?  Feed your fellow servants.  See that they are equipped and at their duties.  Ah.  Okay.  Strengthen your brother.  The time will come when you are the brother in need of strengthening.  It’s never a one way street, this service of ministering to one another.  Everyone has a Spirit-provided gift, and everyone is called to put that gift to work for the good of the body.  After all, no limb, no organ, is going to survive long without being attached to the life-giving body.  Nor is any limb or organ of much use except it is thus properly attached.

Duties of Fellowship (04/24/23-04/25/23)

Somewhere along the years, I came to lay hold of a simple point of faith:  God does not lose sheep.  For a season, we had that statement hanging on the cupboard door, a constant reminder.  Such is the need of a parent when they see their child taking too much to the world.  And, as I learn, it’s not a thing that passes in time.  It is a need that remains.  God does not lose sheep.  Neither is it a matter of concern solely for our children, nor even for family.  Sometimes, beloved, we need that reminder for our own case.  Sometimes we can become so caught up in the stuff of life as to have all but lost sight of our Good Shepherd.  Sometimes the events of life may lead us to wonder if maybe, just maybe, our Good Shepherd has lost sight of us.  In such times, it is well for us to know that this is not something new, not some experience reserved to us.  Indeed, in such times, one hopes there are those around us who have taken this passage to heart, and will be there to encourage, to help, and if necessary, to admonish.  And let’s be honest; however far you may have progressed in this course of sanctification, there will remain times when admonition is most needful.

That may upset some.  It may upset us.  We don’t wish to hear of our failures.  But we need to hear it.  We need to recognize the possibility.  And indeed, it is quite likely that we need to hear it more often than we suppose.  This is more than recognizing that, “There, but for the grace of God go I.”  It’s nearer the waking up to reality, like the prodigal son, and saying, “Where am I?”  How could I let this happen?  So, step one:  You and I are moral agents.  As moral agents, we make our choices, and we follow the course we have chosen.  Where am I?  Right where my choices have led me.  If I don’t like where I have found myself then it’s clear there is need to examine those choices, to reassess desires, and take a more honest measure of myself.

There’s no use in casting about for somebody else to blame.  It’s not this woman You gave me.  It’s not my parents’ fault.  It’s not the ills of society.  And, above all, it’s not some failing on God’s part.  I chose.  I acted.  I thought it through, for certain values of thinking, and decided this was my optimal choice.  My metrics were clearly faulty, and my measurements entirely off, but they remain mine.  And if I should now find myself desiring a much different outcome, then I shall have need of reassessing, discerning more accurate metrics, and taking more accurate measurements.  I need to choose anew.  But as I choose, I need to recognize this fundamental reality in my situation:  Choice alone won’t get me where I now wish to be.

This is, I think, a first level of repentance, and even this first level is very clearly the work of the Holy Spirit far more than of the self-centered soul.  Apart from His admonitions, we won’t even get this far.  We’ll stay stuck on the previous course, careening toward the abyss and blithely unaware of the edge we are about to launch past.  But He does whisper to us, get our attention, point out the warning signs.  It becomes a question of whether we shall heed those signs, listen to the voice of conscience, and change our ways while yet there remains time to avoid catastrophe.  And if we listen, as we listen, we shall hear another note in what this inner voice is telling us:  You must choose, and you must will yourself to act upon that choice, but do so with the knowledge that both your choosing and your willing are utterly dependent upon the God Who Is.  He will provide the means.  He will provide the strength and the power both to will and to work.

Here’s the thing, though:  His provision often times comes to us in unrecognizable form.  I should note, I think, how yesterday’s sermon echoed so many of my thoughts in yesterday’s notes.  It was practically a rerun, though the text from which pastor spoke was entirely different.  No surprise there, right?  The truths of Scripture tend to be reiterated in order that our slow selves might clue in that it’s serious.  That tends to be how I receive these coordinated messages when God sees fit to so arrange them.  And that message continues with this current thread of consideration.  What Paul lays before us here are some of those means by which God provides, and these means may very well be the least comfortable.

We have a preference, I think, for more direct, more private dealings with our Lord.  If I need correcting, Father, let’s do it in these private times, okay?  It shouldn’t take my brother reproving me.  After all, I’ve got You, right?  Well, yes.  Yes, you do.  But you don’t listen to Me, do you?  You find it too easy to discount those thoughts, to laugh off the internal reproof, to devise excuses and alibis for your behavior, and convince yourself that God doesn’t really care about this.  And you are entirely wrong.  I do care.  And so, perhaps I leave you to flounder in your self-pity and helplessness, struggling to achieve true repentance by main strength only to discover that you have no strength, main or otherwise.  This is needful because you really do need to get over yourself.  This is needful because, as I have been saying, you were set within a body.  You are part of that body, and I, dear child, am its Head.  Cut off from the Head, where exactly did you suppose you would find strength?  How did you think you would come to wisdom, let alone will?

Oh, but God does not lose sheep!  And therein is our hope and comfort.  Only, if we would have His comfort, we shall have to accept His means.  If we would dwell in His pasture, we shall have need to accept the discipline of His rod.  We cannot continue wandering willy-nilly wherever our silly minds may direct our attention.  Oh, that looks tasty.  Hmm.  I wonder what’s over there.  No!  He has set you in green pastures.  Abide.  Observe that fence up ahead.  It’s not there for you to leap and get some exercise.  It’s there to set boundaries, that in your liberty, you may remain secure and at peace.  Choose to abide.  Choose to be satisfied with the means God provides for your sustenance and your security.  Here is the body in which He has placed you as a limb, an organ.  Don’t be casting about for more enticing offers.  And, for the love of Life, don’t fall for that lie that you can simply go it alone.  Oh, you can go alone, but it won’t be into Life.  It will be over the fence and headlong into danger.

You see, part of God’s provision for your wellbeing is this fellowship we have been considering of late.  You need your brother every bit as much as your brother deserves the benefit of those gifts you have been given.  God may be waiting for you to get over yourself and seek help.  But there is an equal and opposite possibility as well.  He may be waiting for you to get on with that for which you were created.  He may be waiting for you to take up your position in His body so that those around you can benefit from the gifts He has supplied through you.  It comes down to this, which I had written in my earlier notes:  If God does not lose sheep, we sheep ought not to simply leave our fellow sheep to get lost, either.  I am my brother’s keeper.  And he is mine.   And this is by the perfect plan of our perfect Lord.

And so, we have these instructions set before us.  Admonish the unruly sheep.  If they have become insubordinate, if they have taken to ignoring the instructions given them, heedless of command and warning alike, then it falls to you, with your physical proximity and your tangible presence, to admonish them.  This isn’t tyrannical imposition of your will upon them.  It isn’t angrily ranting at them for their stupidity.  It also isn’t grabbing them and forcing them onto a better course.  As if that would work for any length of time.  This is far nearer fatherly care and concern.  I might suggest, too, that it is more nearly the sort of fatherly care and concern that persists when child has become adult.  There is that aspect of reminding.  You know better.  You aren’t stupid or unaware of the danger.  You know full well what will come of continuing the course you’re on.  There is also an aspect of teaching and instruction here, but the setting supposes that such teaching and instruction have already been imparted.  Now, it’s a matter of recalling those lessons to mind, observing, perhaps, how those lessons apply to present circumstance.

You know, sometimes that’s all it takes for us.  If once we can be pulled back to awareness of what we’ve been doing, that alone will shame us and lead us to repentance.  Sometimes, we are too stubborn, though.  It may take multiple such admonitions from multiple brothers before the reality of it will sink in.  And sadly, there will be those for whom no amount of admonition will suffice.  But these are clearly not sheep.  Rather they are goats; in the fold with us, but not the property of our Shepherd.

Then, we come to the despondent, the faint-hearted.  They have faced the battle, been in it, perhaps, for a long time.  And they just don’t have it in them anymore.  They’ve seen too much loss, weathered too many crises, and they’re losing hope.  Well, much as it is my tendency to do so, the last thing that needs to be done for such a one is to tell them to cheer up.  This is not encouragement.  This is annoyance.  Nobody ever snapped out of such a state because somebody told them they shouldn’t be that way.  “Where’s your faith?”  Yeah, that’ll help.  Let’s convince them their faith is lacking.  God has abandoned them.  Is that what you’re saying?  And this is supposed to encourage them how, exactly?  Far better we should, in such cases, satisfy the need by speaking God’s Truth.

One common example of such a response is that of Elisha.  Here was a man in battle, and he had his attendant with him.  They had gone to Dothan, and the enemies of Israel had come and surrounded that city, determined to put paid to this pesky prophet.  His servant, seeing the armies gathered all around the city saw no hope.  “Alas, my master!  What shall we do?”  (2Ki 6:13-17).  Elisha did not berate him for his lack of faith.  He didn’t suggest that his servant cheer up and keep a stiff upper lip.  No!  He first spoke truth, then he prayed.  “Do not fear, for those with us are more than those with them.”  What?  You know, you have to wonder how that poor attendant reacted to such a message.  I mean, he had eyes.  He could see the vast armies outside the walls, and he could just as readily see the meager forces that the city could muster against them.  Really, Elisha?  Have you gone mad?  But then, he’d been with Elisha some time.  I suppose there must have been that within him that recognized that if this man said it was so, then whatever his lying eyes reported, so it must be.  But Elisha didn’t leave it at, “Trust me.”  He prayed.  “Lord, open his eyes that he may see.”  And the LORD did.  And he saw.  And indeed, those with them were far more than the army come against them.

Here is a lesson for us as we seek to encourage the fainthearted.  It won’t be enough to insist on the truth.  They know God’s word at least as well as do you.  They are not of inferior faith, somehow, lesser believers who should depend on your superior wisdom.  That’s not it.  But you do remind them of what is true, and lovely, and good, and praiseworthy.  And alongside of this, pray.  To depend on your words alone is to depend on reason alone, and while reason is most assuredly a very good thing, being of God’s creation, and specifically, of His creation of man, His crowning achievement in that work, still it is insufficient in the realm of faith and spirituality.  It can guide and inform, but it shall take the Spirit of the Living God to render the truths reason reveals as functional guidance for the heart of the man.  So, remind, but pray.  Speak, but seek that God shall speak, both through you and beside you.

As for the weak, lend them strength.  Undergird them with that strength with which God has provided you.   Grab hold and don’t let go.  As I said, if God does not lose sheep, we should be most unwilling to see them lost.  I have noted, as have many others, how the instructions in this passage reflect military life.  The unruly are out of their ranks; the fainthearted are more or less shell-shocked; the weak have taken a hit, and apart from our attentive care to remove them out of the way of danger, they should die in the field of battle.  But this army does not abandon its troops.  We leave no man behind.  While life and hope remain, we shall see them brought safe out of that field to recover under the ministering of the Spirit.  But there is also something of a hospital perspective to this set of instructions, though they come in military guise.  Calvin draws it out as he observes that, “Remedies must be adapted to diseases.”  What is right treatment for the unruly is wholly inappropriate to the weak.  What is needful for the weak will not serve for the fainthearted.  And that encouragement which best addresses the fainthearted would be ruinous to the unruly.

The one blanket instruction we have is that of patience.  This is always called for, as it is always needful.  I think of those nurses and doctors encountered in the last week.  They have great need of patience, for their patients will sorely try them.  Pain does not render one pleasantly open to new experiences.  Pain does not put one in the best frame of mind.  And while these nurses and doctors do their best to provide the best possible outcome for their patients, rather like discipline, many of those things are unpleasant at the time.  “All discipline for the moment seems not to be joyful, but sorrowful; yet to those who have been trained by it, afterwards it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness” (Heb 12:11).  You could readily see that same point applied to the medical field, couldn’t you?  All hospital experiences for the moment seem not to be healthful, but downright painful.  Yet, to those who have been healed by them, they yield the peaceful fruit of well-being.  Yeah, lousy rephrasing, but best I can manage at the moment.  And notice where that passage proceeds.   “Therefore, strengthen the weak hand and the feeble knee.  Make straight paths for your feed, so that the lame leg isn’t put out of joint, but rather, healed.  Pursue peace with all men, and the sanctification without which no one will see the Lord.  See to it that no one comes short of the grace of God” (Heb 12:12-15a).

This series of instructions is then summed up in the call to be patient.  And with that call, we begin to expand our scope beyond the fellowship of immediate family and interactions within the body.  For, what does he say?  “Be patient with all men.”  Now, I have to stress that the call is for patience, not tolerance.  These are two very different things, particularly as we see tolerance demanded today.  Even without the rather twisted application of the word that pertains now, there is distinction.  Tolerance would insist that we accept each individual just as they are.  They may have different views, even different ideas as to what is true and what is not, but tolerance says they’re views are just as valid and valuable as mine, and so, I must simply nod and perhaps agree to disagree, as we say.  This isn’t patience, though.  It might be avoidance, I suppose, seeking to slip past any potential conflict by simply refusing to engage.  But certainly, if only within the body, this is not the course we are instructed to follow.

We seek to live in peace, yet when dealing with the unruly, the call isn’t for tolerance.  The call is for admonition.  See the need and meet it.  Oh, but that would be judgmental.  How can there be peace between us if I’m pointing out his wrongs?  Well, I could as readily ask, how will there be peace between you if you don’t?  Let us stick with the least offense of these unruly ones, of falling into indolence, and refusing to do their part, whether in the life of the church, or even the basic necessities of life.  Will there long be peace between you if you continue in diligent pursuit of your duties and earn your way, and this one lounges about, insists you supply his needs, and then proceeds to complain because the quality of your supply is not to his liking?  Even if he proves grateful, eventually that indolence is going to grate.  Peace requires that we rightly judge, rightly assess, take the measure of this one’s disease, and then apply the correct medicine to rid him of that disease.  This is the course we pursue, and as we do so, we shall know great need of patience.  And we shall know that as it is God’s work we do, He will supply that patience.  Only, let us be as diligent to avail ourselves of His supply as we are to correct this brother.

We tend to avoid praying for patience because we know the kinds of experiences likely to come our way in order to train us to patience.  We’re back at that unpleasant business of discipline, only now it’s for us.  But patience is needful, and it is needful that we begin the practice of patience in the house, in the body, where there is at least some understanding of spiritual matters, and spiritual growth.  And here, Calvin’s application is apt.  Let us not be impatient as we minister to our brothers.  The efforts called for here will wear on you.  They will break you if you are pursuing them in your own strength and wisdom.  They require prayer, perhaps even fasting.  But certainly prayer.  If you want an exercise in futility, rather than patience, go ahead and try and bring correction to your brother’s ways by mere application of your learning and your ideas.  You will either learn patience, or learn your own sinful limits.  But withal, our call is to be patient.   Be patient and seek to help.  That’s the call here, as the Wycliffe Translators Commentary connects our thoughts.  This, after all, is but a reflection of God’s own attitude.  And isn’t this our duty in all of life, to reflect God?

Paul will later make this observation in laying out the case for faith to the Romans.  Do you take the riches of God’s kindness, forbearance, and patience lightly?  Don’t you know that God’s kindness leads you to repentance? (Ro 2:4).  Do you see it?  God’s kindness, God’s patience.  What he is calling us to do in this passage is simply that which He has done for us.  We were unruly, but He admonished us.  He did not crush as, as He could have done.  He corrected us with utmost patience, and continues to do so, with the assured hope that come the final day, it will indeed be possible for him to live in peace with us.  We have our fainthearted moments, and He is there with encouragement.  In our darkest hours, He shines His light of love, reminds us of goodness and life, and calls us out of our self-imposed tomb.  And then there is the constancy of our weakness.  Even when we think ourselves strong, perhaps most when we think ourselves strong, the reality is that we are very weak indeed.  Were we to face the powers of Satan unaided, we would soon enough recognize this.  But we are not left to do that.  We are given the armament that is needful, the breastplate of righteousness and the helmet of salvation.  We are trained to deploy the sword of the Word as we march forth with feet clad in the Gospel of Peace.

This is how we answer.  This is how we shine.  This is how we stand watch upon the wall, each one of us seeing to the well-being of our brother as we maintain our own position.  We are, indeed, a band of brothers, and by God’s design, we depend upon our brothers as they depend upon us.  Sisters, you’re in this too.  You are every bit as much at war as are we, perhaps even moreso, given maternal cares.  But we have your backs, and we count on you to have ours.  We may find it needful on occasion to minister according to these instructions when it comes to you, and we pray that we shall have the patience and wisdom to accept such ministrations from you when it is our need.

I cannot think of a better way to close out this part of my exercise than to return to that summation from the Wycliffe Commentary.  In sum, be patient and seek to help, for this reflects God’s own attitude.

 Lord, I pray it may be so.  May I be sufficiently gracious as to heed these instructions and to do so as one who reflects Your own attitude.  If I am called to correct, may I do so with patience and grace, with the same tenderness that You have so often shown toward me.  If I see one struggling, may I give gentle voice to Your great truths, remind of Your goodness and Your assured promises.  May I be such as quietly turns their attention away from their trials and upward towards heaven, recalling them to mind that this world is not our home, but merely a place we visit but briefly.  If I encounter one weak in faith, my I encourage them to greater confidence in You.  And please, God, when I am the one in need of these correctives, train me to such patience that I might receive my medicine with glad appreciation, rather than with angry reaction.

Duties Beyond Fellowship (04/25/23)

I have already begun to address this expansion of scope.  Our duty is not solely to our brother, but swiftly balloons out to encompass all men.  Be patient with all men, and don’t stop there.  Seek the opportunity for active, positive good that may be done not only for one another, but for all men.  Restraint is needful, but restraint is insufficient.  It is not enough to refrain from tit for tat responses.  There was, somewhere amongst the commentaries, reference to some apparently British perspective, that defined three categories of behavior.  The evil man returns evil for good.  The humanist returns like for like.  But the Christian returns good for evil.  It’s not just refraining, but actively seeking to be beneficent, even to that one who most spitefully uses you.  Do you suffer an ogre of a boss?  Well, certainly if there is opportunity to improve your position and find employment elsewhere, nothing in Scripture precludes your doing so.  But so long as you remain in that situation?  Beware of the desire to have your petty vengeance.  Beware the thought of malicious compliance, teaching this guy a lesson, etc.  No.  Seek to do good even to that one.

Do you find yourself dealing with surly employees, being given lackadaisical service?  Do you think perhaps these laborers and professionals are taking advantage of you?  Are you even so cynical as to suppose from the outset that they’re out to rip you off?  Watch out!  Such a mindset will only have you seeking to respond in kind.  And that is not your calling, child of God.  No, you are not to respond in kind, but to respond in kindness.  To all.  Regardless.  I love this from Barnes.  “The moment we feel ourselves acting from a desire to ‘return evil for evil,’ that moment we are acting wrong.”  Notice!  It’s not even to action yet.  It’s just the desire.  But evil desire is the seed of evil act.  Is this not exactly as Jesus taught?   It’s not enough to avoid acting on the urge to murder.  The urge itself, even in its far more benign rootstock of accounting this fellow or that a fool has already crossed the line.  It’s not enough that you refrain from pursuing opportunities for adultery.  Where are your eyes?  Where are your thoughts in idle moments?  When you can’t help but see, how do you respond?  Do you recall to mind a covenant made with your eyes?  Do you immediately seek out your Savior, and pray that these images be expunged from memory ASAP?  Or do you coddle those thoughts, tuck them away for later?  Stop!

So, too, the desire for vengeance, which I think must include in its scope the desire to be right.  For nowhere are we more inclined to return evil for evil than when it comes to opinions, and it only becomes the more fierce when those opinions touch on matters of faith and practice of Christian religion.  There’s a place for defending the faith.  There’s a place for standing on Truth.  But too often, we simply suppose our least opinion must be God’s own truth.  After all, we’ve put in the effort.  We’ve studied to show ourselves approved.  Well, then, show yourself approved.  Show it by patience, by refraining from evil and pursing every opportunity to promote the welfare of whoever it is you are currently arguing with.  Always seek to be instrumental in promoting the welfare of others, for this is your fundamental calling.

Clarke writes, “Every temper contrary to love is contrary to Christianity.”  Where, then, these heated debates over differences of perspective?  How is that ever going to achieve anything good?  Has anybody ever been shifted from their opinion by the ferocity of the counter-argument?  I think not.  The more natural response is to firm up and take a defensive stance.  No, you won’t win the argument by shouting.  You won’t convince your brother of his error by committing your own.  Clarke’s further observation on this is worth bearing in mind:  Such peevish vindictiveness is the way of the child of Satan, not the child of God.

We are, arguably, all of us from broken homes.  We have had two fathers, and in each moment we must make determined choice within our inmost being as to which of those two fathers we wish to acknowledge.  We acknowledge whichever by our words and deeds.  Therein lies good cause to deliberate, and make purposeful choice as to how we shall speak and act in every situation.  Some way, somehow, we must keep our instructions before us.  Some way, somehow, we must be constantly reminded of the office we each one of us fill as we go through this life as ambassadors of Christ, ambassadors of Light.  Think!  Think before you respond.  Recall Who you represent.  Remember that all that you have been called to do here is to observe that very rule, ‘which God himself observes’, as Barnes points out to us.  It is Him you represent, and you cannot represent Him well by doing other than He has called you to do.  You are a Christian.  Represent!  And recognize that absolutely no limit is put on the scope of this command.  Seek to do good.  Actively pursue the opportunity to benefit this other, whether brother or neighbor, or random stranger.  It makes no difference who you face.  You are an ambassador of Christ.  Show Him.  Show yourself a true son of your true Father in heaven.  Who knows but that by doing so you may discover you have led a brother home?

Let this be our story.  Let this be our practice.  Let us, as Paul directs, pursue those things which make for peace and edifying one another (Ro 14:19).  We may think edification is more an in-house activity, but it needn’t be limited to that scope.  If we would edify our neighbor, would this not be the active pursuit of their greatest benefit?  If we inform them of this Gospel while living lives that demonstrate its power and its goodness, proving the attractiveness of Christ by doing as He commands, can there be a greater good we could do?  Oh, by all means, if there are physical needs, seek to address them.  If there are tangible actions that could be undertaken to do good for them, do so.  If you are in position to offer wisdom such that it might be accepted, do so.  If an avenue opens up, though, to present this Gospel, be ready, in season and out, to give an explanation for this hope that is in you.  Then, perhaps, just perhaps, they, too, might come to know that hope.  Edify.  Build up.  Our call is not to destroy our fellow man.  Destruction is reserved for the tearing down of strongholds, for battling the spiritual forces of darkness, not for dealings with flesh and blood.  There, the command is ever, pursue those things which make for peace.  Edify.