I
Peter 2:19-25
Much of our literature and most of
our movies are about how two people meet and the obstacles that stand between
them and the foregone conclusion: that they will eventually live happily ever
after. Other stories, about war, end
with victory on the battlefield. Some of
them, about business, end with somebody making a fortune. (These are, of course, the stories with happy
endings.) There isn’t much discussion or
imagination that goes into describing the aftermath. What does “happily ever after” look like?
Sadly, we’ve done the same with our
spiritual biographies. There’s always
something to be said about how
“I once was lost, but
now am found,
Was blind but now I
see,”
but
we don’t say so much about what it means to be found, or describe the sights that
meet our eyes. There are dozens and
dozens of tales about how someone went wrong, and they are all deeply personal
and give us a glimpse into (I suspect) the things that tempt us the most. The Prodigal Son’s brother, the one who
stayed at home and did what was right all the time, was angry not only at his
brother when he came home, but with his father, and it strikes me that part of
it was envy.
“Listen! For all these years I have been working like
a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your commands; yet you have never
given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has
devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!” [Luke 15:29-30]
When
we hear people’s conversion stories in our own day, there’s often the same
element of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll in the background, and that takes the
spotlight at the expense of both the troubles that it all lands people in and
(what I want to emphasize this morning) the aftermath when someone has come to
themselves. I Peter refers to us as
people who have been through our own struggles, each one, but for whom that is
in the past.
“For you were going astray like sheep, but now
you have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls.” [I Peter 2:25]
Again,
let’s look at that. What does it mean to
be home again?
For one thing, it means that we have
accepted that we have a shepherd and guardian.
To use a term that covers both of those roles, we have a savior. To be “saved” isn’t just something that
happens once and is over with. A
shepherd saves his sheep all the time.
He saves them from hunger by leading them to pasture every day. He saves them from thirst by finding them
drinkable water. He saves them by
keeping coyotes and predators away. He
saves them by shearing off the wool that, without being removed, would make them
overheat in the summer. One of the
things that we can bear witness to is that Jesus’ goodness isn’t limited to
what he did for us on the cross, although that is its ultimate and deepest
expression.
“He himself bore our sins in his body on the
cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness; by his wounds
you have been healed.” [I
Peter 2:24]
He
continues to care for us and guide us by his Spirit even now so that we can, as
it says, “live for righteousness”.
If anybody wants to borrow this book
from me, they are welcome. It’s The Journal of John Woolman. He was a Quaker who was born near Mt. Holly
in 1720, so if you count South Jersey as part of our area, he was a local
boy. The first part of his story
concerns his early life and coming to faith.
He wrote,
“About the twenty-third
year of my age, I had many fresh and heavenly openings, in respect to the care
and providence of the Almighty over his creation in general, and over man as
the most noble amongst those which are visible.
And being clearly convinced in my judgment that to place my whole trust
in God was best for me, I felt renewed engagements that in all things I might
act on an inward principle of virtue, and pursue worldly business no further
than as truth opened my way.”[1]
In
this edition, that’s on page twelve. The
rest of the book tells about how God used him to bring about the abolition of
slavery in New Jersey and Pennsylvania by speaking one-on-one with slaveholders
and appealing to their own consciences and calling to people’s attention the
terrible conditions that were being created by the Industrial Revolution that
was just beginning, warning about how the environment itself could become
polluted and the poor exploited in the mines and in the factories that were
just being built.
As he went, the awareness of being
continually shepherded remained with him.
In 1772, shortly before his death, he summarized his life this way:
“I have sometimes felt
a necessity to stand up, but that spirit which is of the world hath so much
prevailed in many, and the pure life of truth hath been so pressed down, that I
have gone forward, not as one travelling in a road cast up and well prepared,
but as a man walking through a miry place in which are stones here and there
safe to step on, but so situated that, one step being taken, time is necessary
to see where to step next. Now I find
that in a state of pure obedience the mind learns contentment in appearing weak
and foolish to that wisdom which is of the world; and in these lowly labors,
they who stand in a low place and are rightly exercised under the cross will
find nourishment. The gift is pure; and
while the eye is single in attending thereto the understanding is preserved
clear; self is kept out. We rejoice in
filling up that which remains of the afflictions of Christ for his body’s sake,
which is the church.”[2]
To
be returned to the fold is not to be kept out of danger, but to be safe in its
midst. It is not to be spared trouble,
but to know that it has a purpose, and that purpose will be fulfilled. So his Journal
finishes with a prayer for all God’s people that they may live in his
light. He prays that we all
“may be preserved in
the meek, feeling life of truth, where we may have no desire but to follow
Christ and to be with him, that when he is under suffering, we may suffer with
him, and never desire to rise up in dominion, but as he, by the virtue of his
own spirit, may raise us.”[3]
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment