…the moment is here: a reflection on Romans 13

“The moment is here for you to stop sleeping and wake up… the night is nearly over, daylight is on the way; so let us throw off everything that belongs to the darkness and equip ourselves for the light… Let your armor be the Lord Jesus Christ, and stop worrying about how your disordered natural inclinations may be fulfilled.”  --Romans 13: 11-14

In these verses Paul seems to speak to my life directly; middle aged, worried about my appetites and inclinations, sleep-walking through my own dark woods (i.e. mid-life crisis). But Paul assures us that that night nearly over, and daylight is on the way. Consider what that might mean to you personally.  For me, the night seems to describe the darkness that comes during a particularly difficult time: a time when I feel alone, lost, afraid.  And the daylight brings hope, the ability to see clearly what now I can only see in shadows and vague shapes –as if through a glass darkly.  

On one level the darkness, the night imagery, speaks to me of a time when our faith is challenged and we struggle to see signs of God’s presence, God’s guidance, God’s love; perhaps Paul is referring to this existence –this world. A place of spiritual darkness? A place and time wherein we cannot see God clearly, but he reassures us that daylight is coming. And it seems to me that he isn’t referring just to a sunrise tomorrow morning, but the Son rise of God’s fullness and grace.  The light of Christ.

And so, Paul exhorts us to throw off everything that belongs to the darkness, and singles out drunkenness, orgies, licentiousness and jealousy for special mention (cf.13:13). And yet, I think there is much more to this “deeds of darkness” than the easily singled out: sexual immorality (and drunkenness).  In the darkness we find ourselves afraid, anxious, insecure, confused, feeling hopeless, defensive (suspicious of every sound, every shadow that passes); in the darkness we grow tired; exhausted, we huddle together in an enclosed space seeking security –and desperate to escape from life’s troubles, how often do we long to simply fall into sleep?

All this belongs to the night, along with our revels and orgies and drunkenness –we hide them from the light to avoid witness to our shame, our fear, our vulnerability –our weakness.  In the dark, though, it is too easy to get lost. To think you are hidden, because you cannot see. Like a small child who covers his eyes and imagines the world cannot see him, we can begin to imagine our weakness and our sin is hidden –because it is kept in the darkness.  However, Paul says to us: throw off those deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light.  On the pious surface it would be easy to see this as simply: stop doing bad things and be a good Christian!

But, I think there is much more to it, and much less.  I think Paul is also saying: stop hiding yourselves! Put on the armor of light; on the one hand, (the spiritual hand, one might say) act like Christ! Yes! Of course! But on the other hand (on the more basic, more pedestrian day to day hand) put on the armor of light could also mean, don’t hide yourself! Don’t pretend to be something you aren’t.  And let the world accept or reject you because of who you really are! In a sense, there is no real armor except the armor of light.  As long as you have something to hide (something you are ashamed to have revealed) you will be afraid. Afraid it will come to light.  And yet Paul seems to be saying that “the light” is exactly what our darkness needs.

I don’t know that we need to wander the streets wearing scarlet letters, but perhaps the Puritans weren’t completely wrong.  For me, I am more interested in the concept of openness and vulnerability as strengths (as a kind of spiritual or psychological armor) and I am also interested in the sacrament of confession. We definitely need to admit to each other, privately and publicly, our brokenness and our need for Grace.  Wake up, Paul says. If you are a follower of Christ, then you need to start living like one.  But it is also clear that he knows we aren’t just going to just wake up one morning and suddenly be perfect. It seems to me that the message here isn’t about being perfect, but about being awake. Living intentionally and vulnerably.  Putting on the armor of light doesn’t mean we will be free from temptation (or that we won’t stumble into sin) but that we will be truly visible, we will be fully vulnerable, and perhaps that is how we will become light for the world.

Don’t ask yourself if you are ready. The hour is nigh. The moment is here. Stop sleep walking.  Wake up. Put on the light.

How can we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?

Friday 26 June 2015

“…the life I live is not my own; Christ is living in me…”  Galatians 2:19

“…I will make you a light to the nations
that my salvation shall reach to the ends of the earth…”  Isaiah 49:6

          Today the US Supreme Court decided in favor of a right to same-sex marriage.  And this decision, whether one approves or disapproves, is a clear signal of our nation’s further move from what was once considered a “Christian nation” toward a more and more secular nation divorced from any spiritual or faith-based influences.  Again, one may approve or disapprove of such a movement; in fact individual Christians, Jews and Muslims, members of all faiths, may sincerely disagree on the importance and societal value of this movement. But, it seems pretty clear that today we no longer live in a “Christian nation.”  And I think, as a Christian we will find very shortly that we are no longer at home in this nation, in our homeland, but instead we are in exile (whether spiritual, political or societal –I don’t know, perhaps all three). 

            Last night (Thursday) in our theology class we were studying the Hebrew prophets (mainly Isaiah and Jeremiah) and our professor offered us a series of passages from Isaiah as an example of the prophet’s style and theology.  When he came to 49:1-6 and introduced it by discussing the scholarly tradition that this passage was probably written by a second writer during the Babylonian captivity and at some point attributed to Isaiah, I became very curious about the image of Israel as a “light to the nations.” I began to wonder why would this image come to mind while a people is in exile?  Why a light to the nations and not just the Jews? Why that transition would occur in exile –during captivity.

            The professor emphasized the change in theology implied by the image, from we are the chosen people to we are a light to the nations, that all people may come to God; He’s not just for the Jews anymore.

   And I still wondered why they would come to this idea in exile? And then he went on to elaborate that some think that it was possibly in exile (in captivity) that the Jews actually gained their identity.

   And still I wondered why this change in teaching and why during captivity?

   Then I began to wonder: is it because of the captivity, because in captivity, in exile, in defeat they had to grapple with: Why? Why did this happen to us? To God’s chosen people and why would a good and loving God who made a covenant with us let this happen to us? This seems terrible! Horrible! Evil! But then someone (Isaiah or Duetero-Isaiah) had the flash of inspiration OR the Holy Spirit inspired him (or his redactors) to see that if God is good and God is love or loves us in a special covenantal way then there must be some good in this; some good in the exile and captivity and defeat and destruction of the temple, etc etc.  And not just some good (i.e. –we might as well look on the bright side) but…If we are God’s people and He loves us and this happened to us there must be a good in this that we can’t or don’t see, there must be a good intended by this that we can’t see—and that good, Isaiah somehow realized, was to become the “light to the nations…”

  The Jews were to become “…so marred…beyond human semblance…despised and rejected… a [people] of suffering and acquainted  with infirmities…” (52:13-53:3) not as a sign that God rejected them or was punishing them but as a sign to the world, a light to the nations.  Dispersed so that they could finally discover what it was God really wanted of them: a home –not in a temple—but within them, within each one of them, within the “lowly and afflicted…” (66:2) and that they could in their suffering (and perhaps only through their suffering) become truly a light to the world –a lamp not hidden behind temple walls or hidden in a bushel, but put where it can be seen –every day by any and every one. They were to become truly chosen people, but it didn’t look like what anyone expected. With no temple save their own humble and contrite hearts, they were each and every one being called to become the dwelling place of the Lord.   The land was finally truly theirs –the Holy Land was finally theirs and the covenant complete –because the Holy Land was right beneath their feet always and everywhere, wherever they stood all they could do was go from one piece of Holy ground to the next.

  And so we Christians now, (once again?), are being called to go through the refining fire of exile and captivity, that we too may finally become (once again?) truly a light to the world.  And it seems to me that our light will glow through the way we live our exile; how we live this exile will determine how bright our light glows because the glow will in fact be not ours, but a reflection of God’s love dwelling in us—and the love we reflect to the world will be reflected not in acts of confrontation and political activism, but in the love we show, the love we feel for the world, the love we will toward the world. 

  Do we act with love and compassion when we meet difficulties and feel oppressed? Or do we meet these moments with clenched teeth and forced smiles –pretended tenderness?  If so, then we won’t reflect much of God’s love. But if we meet our exile with gentleness, with sincere and tender compassion; if we are open and vulnerable and willing to embrace even our oppressors, then we will reflect God’s love more brightly and maybe through us, through our exile we will become a light that shines His glory to all the nations –drawing people to Him.  We shall see.  It won’t be easy; for many this exile in our own land will be terribly hard and bitter, as if they are being led out of Jerusalem through a hole in the wall, bound and chained, a hook through their lip, dragged away to see their home no more.  The world will never again be the same, they fear... I too suspect that the world will never again be the same, not in my lifetime… But I'm not sad about that. I know God is good, therefore out of this sea change, this fearful exile, good is coming…somehow, someday, someway…

and I know this, because the life we live now is not our own… therefore when people ask me how I think we should react to this national transformation, I can only say: do not be afraid, He is with you always. Let go of your need to prove anything, let go of your need to be right,  speak the truth with humility and compassion and be vulnerable; you may be a stranger living in a strange land, but don't be afraid --let God make of you a light for the nations, a light that will reach to the ends of the earth.