2 PETER: The Other Side of the Conversation

In addition to 1 Peter, we have a second letter from Peter to what we would assume is the same region. While the first letter was written to almost all of the region of Asia and Asia Minor — which would have included a Jewish population of around 20% — it is my opinion that his next letter, while meant to be heard by both Jewish and Gentile audiences, is aimed more specifically at the struggles of these Gentile converts. I believe this because of Peter’s address:

Simon Peter, a servant and apostle of Jesus Christ,

To those who through the righteousness of our God and Savior Jesus Christ have received a faith as precious as ours:

Grace and peace be yours in abundance through the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord.

His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.

For a Jewish teacher, righteousness is the idea of generosity and kindness. I read Peter’s address to say, because of the kindness and generosity of Jesus, the Gentiles have also received a faith just as precious as the Jewish faith. His next comments really define what he’ll spend his time arguing for. Peter tells them that they (the Gentiles) have God’s divine power helping them deal with escaping the temptations of their pagan world, and their sinful desires to indulge in those practices.

Peter is going to go on to make very Jewish, rabbinical arguments, which are even rooted in the midrash. Does this mean I’m wrong in my assumption of a Gentile audience? Does it mean a trained Gentile audience? Does it mean the Jewish audience is going to assist in the reading and learning of these teachings? Or does it simply show that Peter is trying to put God’s Text into context and let His words go to work?

Either way, Peter references some real “humdingers” of teachings. The bulk of his letter is a plea to the Gentiles not to give in to the teaching of false teachers. Now, in our typical evangelical world, we immediately start thinking in terms of orthodoxy, assuming there are teachers who are teaching incorrect doctrine and enticing them into wrong belief. But this is obviously not the case with a careful reading of the letter. These false teachers are leading them into wrong practice, and Peter’s main concern is orthopraxy.

Peter and Jude (to be studied later) are going to draw on the same stories from the Text and teachings in the midrash to make their case. I am going to draw these arguments out in detail when we study the book of Jude, but for now, I want the reader to examine the second chapter of Peter’s letter and realize that Peter is talking about these false teachers in the terms of their refusal to acknowledge 1) the ungodliness and idolatry of their culture, 2) their desire for prestige, power, wealth, and influence, and 3) the sexual immorality that is incongruent with the way of Jesus.

When viewed alongside Peter’s first letter, this becomes a great one-two punch addressing the struggle of the Greco-Asian church. You have to overcome the persecution and the suffering you endure in order to be different and tell a different story in the world. But you cannot give in to the ways of culture and lose your testimony, either. You have to remain committed to the mission of God.

If any of this sounds familiar, it’s because it is. We talked about this all the way back in the books of Joshua and Judges. We were shown what it looks like in the life and ministry of Jesus. And we are reminded of it again now.

God has always wanted a people at the crossroads of the earth — a kingdom of priests ready to show the world what God is like. But the temptation to give in to the ways of culture will be strong, and we must be sure we don’t have any pig bones. The mission of God has always been the same. It has always been one story, and God has always been looking for partners. At different points in history, God has sometimes found those partners and sometimes struggled.

What chapter of history will we be?

1 PETER: Living Stones and a Spiritual House

We come to a letter I feel I have so much yet to learn about. The Apostle Peter writes two epistles that end up in our New Testament canon and I always have to step back and catch my breath before I read them. When we read 1 and 2 Peter, we are reading the late writings of the apostolic leader of the early church. If I was honest, I would say the letters of Peter occupy the same place in my mind where they sit in the New Testament — almost in obscurity, toward the back. While I grew up very acquainted with the works and writings of Paul, the books of Peter were used significantly less often. If James is the leader of the Jewish church in Jerusalem, and if John is the Pastor to Asia, then when I read Peter, I am reading the head of this early apostolic movement. But more on that later.

Peter addresses those who are chosen by God to carry our their calling in the region of “Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia”:

Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ,

To God’s elect, exiles scattered throughout the provinces of Pontus, Galatia,Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia, who have been chosen according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, through the sanctifying work of the Spirit, to be obedient to Jesus Christ and sprinkled with his blood:

Grace and peace be yours in abundance.

The region of Cappadocia

On one hand, this is a wide audience that represents the Greco-Asian church spreading readily throughout the Roman empire. But as we’ve discussed before, some of those places aren’t exactly “on the way” through Asia. Places like Galatia are far enough off the beaten path that Rome rarely finds a large presence there. Another place mentioned is even more so — Cappadocia. The region of Cappadocia was where people went in order to escape or hide. Filled with underground cities carved into the soft rock (called “toofa”), this was a place for the persecuted.

If Peter was writing this letter toward the end of his life, it’s entirely probable that the church finds itself under some of the earliest persecutions of the Roman world under emperors like Nero. Thousands of people would flee to a region like Galatia and Cappadocia to escape the cultural torrent swirling around them. While many believers chose to stay, and often die, in the face of persecution (in places like Asia, also mentioned in Peter’s address), others heeded the word of their Rabbi Jesus: “When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another.”

This seems to be the cultural context of Peter’s letter. He speaks about hope. He speaks about the need to submit to rulers and masters when the temptation is to fight back and stick up for their own rights. He speaks of suffering — a lot. Consider some of the passages we find in 1 Peter:

Finally, all of you, be like-minded, be sympathetic, love one another, be compassionate and humble. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing. For,

“Whoever would love life
    and see good days
must keep their tongue from evil
    and their lips from deceitful speech.
They must turn from evil and do good;
    they must seek peace and pursue it.
For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous
    and his ears are attentive to their prayer,
but the face of the Lord is against those who do evil.”

Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good? But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. “Do not fear their threats; do not be frightened.” But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander.

Unbelievably powerful words when one considers the likely context of this letter. Peter will also say this:

Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you. If you suffer, it should not be as a murderer or thief or any other kind of criminal, or even as a meddler. However, if you suffer as a Christian, do not be ashamed, but praise God that you bear that name. For it is time for judgment to begin with God’s household; and if it begins with us, what will the outcome be for those who do not obey the gospel of God? And,

“If it is hard for the righteous to be saved,
    what will become of the ungodly and the sinner?”

So then, those who suffer according to God’s will should commit themselves to their faithful Creator and continue to do good.

But if we go back to the beginning of the letter, we might find some of the reasons Peter is able to say these things. Peter said God was taking His chosen people and building them into a “spiritual house” (which is how early Jews would have spoken about the Temple). In a similar fashion to Paul, who said that we (plural) are the temple (singular) of the Holy Spirit, Peter claims we are all living stones, chosen and quarried by God to be built into a spiritual house. Central to Peter’s encouragement of the early believers is a belief that the way they persevere and overcome — together — tells a story and shows the world what their God is like. If this is true, then in the midst of the persecution, there is incredible hope — hope that the world might know more clearly the love and faithfulness of God.

I think there are so many things we can learn from this letter and see paralleled in our own culture. I am not saying we live in a culture of persecution. I find the “culture wars” of our day to be a disgusting spit in the face of people who actually know what persecution looks like. Quite simply, we are not a persecuted people, no matter how we perceive the culture around us (and this is not speaking of individuals, but as a people group; specifically American Christians). Our “trials” cannot lay a finger on the things suffered by those early Christians in places like Cappadocia.

And yet, I do believe their example is one that directly applies to so many of the conversations we wrestle with today. As we continue to move away from a Christian world to a “post-Christian” world (something I personally do not mourn in the least), we must consider what our role to play in the world is. How do we tell the story of our Jesus? Do we fight back? Do we stand up for our rights?

Or do we persist in doing good, no matter what the future brings or how the world reacts? Do we overturn the systems of oppression and injustice and choose forgiveness, love, and compassion at our own expense? This is what leads to my final observation.

It’s interesting to consider the life journey and transformation of Peter. The same Peter who wrote this letter had decades before declared he would take his sword and die for his rabbi. He claimed he would never disown him and never forsake him. Then, after learning the humiliating taste of dishonor, Peter experienced the light of hope and resurrection. He experienced forgiveness. Peter finds a new identity leading the church of Christ in a way that looks much different than the road he wanted to choose in the gospels. This is a Peter who has been changed.

I say all of this because there is hope for a guy like me. There is hope for someone like you, as well. We can still choose the way of grace and peace; we can still choose to be changed by a living hope.

GALATIANS: Through the Law

Even though Paul has given the community the authority to speak into his life, ministry, and calling, he is far from rolling over and thinking they are anything more than humans themselves. The ability of Paul to be a mature and well-balanced human being is astounding here. He not only submits to the authority of the church leaders and community of the early church, but he is also adamant about standing for truth and confronting inappropriate behavior when he finds it. Apparently Peter, the great leader of the church, is far from perfect and infallible. Paul tells the Galatians about an encounter he had with Peter in Antioch.

And remember Peter is the guy who had the first experience with these “outsiders” being welcomed into the community of faith. He was the one who had to fight for their place within the world of the gospel and help pave the way for their entrance into the family of God.

When Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood condemned. For before certain men came from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles. But when they arrived, he began to draw back and separate himself from the Gentiles because he was afraid of those who belonged to the circumcision group. The other Jews joined him in his hypocrisy, so that by their hypocrisy even Barnabas was led astray.

The leaders in this early Jesus movement remind me a lot myself at times — full of mistakes and a concern for self. These leaders know what the gospel calls them to do; there are times when they don’t have any problem living up to the call of the gospel. When it is these leaders and the Gentiles, they are gracious and hospitable companions. However, when some of the folks from Judea showed up — those from James and the “circumcision group” — Peter and even Barnabas sought to keep the peace by switching to the traditions and practices of the Torah-observant Jews.

What is often missing from the conversation surrounding this passage is a proper treatment of Jewish halachah, or oral tradition. Halachah is the set of oral interpretations that surround the written law; in a more poetic sense, halachah is “how you walk.” After God gave you commandments, you needed to understand how you would walk these commandments out. The oral tradition provided that framework, but in the new way Jesus is inviting us to live (and even during his own ministry, I believe Jesus made this clear), some of these understandings were going to get in the way of the truth of the gospel. One in particular would be the restrictions of eating with Gentiles. While God never commanded this in Torah, the halachah of the Jewish world had deemed it inappropriate to eat with Gentiles as an issue of ‘cleanliness’ and remaining distinct.

The belief of those in the ‘circumcision group’ was that this distinction needed to remain intact. So Peter and Barnabas find it hard to shake the halachah they had lived with for their entire lives (you can see Peter reference this to Cornelius in Acts 10). But Paul sees this as inconsistent with the gospel of Jesus and he calls them on it.

When I saw that they were not acting in line with the truth of the gospel, I said to Cephas in front of them all, “You are a Jew, yet you live like a Gentile and not like a Jew. How is it, then, that you force Gentiles to follow Jewish customs?”

“Jewish customs” is the reference to halachah. While Peter and Barnabas are not asking the Gentiles to be bound by these commandments (or even the miqsat ma’asay haTorah), they are having a hard time not playing the role of Judean when the “good ol’ boys” come to town. Paul confronts Peter publicly and makes it quite clear he no longer lives by this halachah, so why does he hold people (including Gentiles) to it when the folks from Judea are here? Peter is putting on a show for the Judeans; he’s acting like he is somebody else who believes something other than what he believes.

I believe the NIV is correct in keeping the quotations marks through the rest of the chapter, indicating it is part of Paul’s address to Peter:

“We who are Jews by birth and not sinful Gentiles know that a person is not justified by the works of the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ. So we, too, have put our faith in Christ Jesus that we may be justified by faith in Christ and not by the works of the law, because by the works of the law no one will be justified.”

First, the old NIV (copyright 1984) put “sinful Gentiles” in quotes. I believe this is the correct move, as it helped communicate the nature of the statement. It is not a derogatory dig on Gentiles as being a bunch of sinners. The Jews understood the “nations” of the Old Testament to be the pagan people groups; it was their mission to remain distinct from them and display God to them. The phrase refers to their status as pagans and not their nature (or value) as human beings.

Second, notice Paul’s direct reference to the rabbinic argument surrounding the idea of justification. We have referenced multiple times in this series the debate that existed between the schools of Shammai and Hillel on whether or not a Jew was justified by faith or by the “works of the law.” The “works of the law” are referenced directly in the passage above (ergu nomu in the Greek). We said Shammai believed a person was justified or “declared righteous” (my favorite expression, like Lancaster, is “exonerated”) by following the miqsat ma’asay haTorah (the “works of the law”); Hillel disagreed and said that, just like Abraham, they are justified by faith and simply believing in the promises of God. The New Testament community decided the way of Jesus (almost always) sided with Hillel. Paul reminds Peter of this decision — a decision that those of the “circumcision group” disagreed with.

“But if, in seeking to be justified in Christ, we Jews find ourselves also among the sinners, doesn’t that mean that Christ promotes sin? Absolutely not! If I rebuild what I destroyed, then I really would be a lawbreaker.

Paul mentions that “through the law I died to the law.” What he means by this is NOT that he stopped following the law; this is quite clear by simply examining the other arguments, assumptions, and behaviors of Paul in the New Testament. Paul is still observing Jewish festivals, worshipping at the Temple, and the taking of Nazarite vows. Paul is certainly still living according to kosher law. However, he is also saying it is through Torah itself that he learned he is not justified by following Torah. He agrees with Hillel and states that Torah itself testified to justification by faith. It is through the Law that he died to the need to be justified by the Law. This will be seen when Paul, in the next chapter, uses the books of Genesis and Leviticus to argue for the gospel and justification by faith.

Paul is looking at great leaders like Peter (and Barnabas) and claiming that if they — in these moments, with people who disagree — rebuild what the community of Jesus has worked so hard to tear down, then the gospel would be stripped of its power. If they rebuild what others worked so hard to tear down, then people don’t see the story God has been telling since Genesis. If they rebuild what others worked so hard to tear down, they will actually be lawbreakers — people who are abolishing the teaching of Torah itself!

“For through the law I died to the law so that I might live for God. I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not set aside the grace of God, for if righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing!”

GALATIANS: Right Hand of Fellowship

We left off wondering what the result of Paul’s continued ministry would be. After receiving a call from God, a “revelation from Jesus Christ,” and three years of training in Arabia and Damascus, Paul went and spent time with the key leaders of the early church (Peter and James). After receiving their blessing, Paul was sent out by the church with Barnabas to be about the work of spreading this gospel he received from Jesus. So, what could go wrong? It must have been smooth sailing, right?

Then after fourteen years, I went up again to Jerusalem, this time with Barnabas. I took Titus along also. I went in response to a revelation and, meeting privately with those esteemed as leaders, I presented to them the gospel that I preach among the Gentiles. I wanted to be sure I was not running and had not been running my race in vain. Yet not even Titus, who was with me, was compelled to be circumcised, even though he was a Greek. This matter arose because some false believers had infiltrated our ranks to spy on the freedom we have in Christ Jesus and to make us slaves. We did not give in to them for a moment, so that the truth of the gospel might be preserved for you.

Apparently, their world has some similarities to ours; not surprisingly, there was still a significant amount of opposition to the work Jesus was asking Paul (along with Barnabas and others) to do. Again, Paul emphasizes that letting their loud voices win the day would be a loss for the gospel; so instead of being defeated or giving in, they persevered in their insistence that the good news of what God is doing in the world through Jesus invites all people to the table.

To be sure this was, in fact, how the apostles felt about the ministry of Jesus, Paul and Barnabas — fourteen years later — brought Titus along with them to Jerusalem as a sort of “test case.” They stood him in front of the church, told his story, and asked if he needed to be circumcised (which, means far more than just circumcision itself; the sign of the covenant means you carry the entirety of the Law). The church said no.

As for those who were held in high esteem—whatever they were makes no difference to me; God does not show favoritism—they added nothing to my message. On the contrary, they recognized that I had been entrusted with the task of preaching the gospel to the uncircumcised, just as Peter had been to the circumcised. For God, who was at work in Peter as an apostle to the circumcised, was also at work in me as an apostle to the Gentiles. James, Cephas and John, those esteemed as pillars, gave me and Barnabas the right hand of fellowship when they recognized the grace given to me. They agreed that we should go to the Gentiles, and they to the circumcised. All they asked was that we should continue to remember the poor, the very thing I had been eager to do all along.

Paul continues to say the leaders of the church didn’t even want to make adjustments to his message. They agreed the gospel he was sharing is in fact the announcement of God’s work and kingdom on earth. They reaffirmed and commissioned Paul to do the work of taking this gospel to the Gentiles in the same way Peter led the charge in taking it to the world of the Jews.

Paul says Peter, James, and John gave him the right hand of fellowship, which is another way of saying they accepted him and his message as a part of their covenantal community; he was one of them. This is important above all else because Peter, James, and John are called “pillars” of the church. This is a clear nod to the Jewish midrash which spoke of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as the pillars of the Jewish people. They were the leaders on which the family of God is built on. Paul indicated in the preceding paragraph that their right hand of fellowship was paramount to him, because if he did not receive it, he would have “run his race in vain.” If Paul did not have the blessing of the “Pillars,” he would have stopped his ministry right there.

This triumvirate was functioning as the head of the early church; these three men were the closest to Jesus in his ministry. They walked closer to Jesus than any others, were invited to places nobody else went (e.g., the Mount of Transfiguration, Jesus praying in the garden, etc.), and were privy to rabbinical explanations that they were ultimately responsible to teach to the other disciples. In a Jewish world, they were set to lead the charge. Peter, of course, was head over the entire movement as Jesus’s right-hand man. James, as we know from church history and references in the book of Acts, was the leader of the church in Jerusalem (the Judeans from the south), while John would ultimately become the “Pastor to Asia” and be stationed in Asia to minister to the church there.

I find it fascinating to study how the early church functioned in the midst of disagreement. I believe the New Testament gives us ample evidence to suggest there was even a slight disagreement among the “Pillars.” James, as the leader of the church of Jerusalem, appears to have a belief that all people should be carrying the Law. It was at the Jerusalem Council where James leads the charge in figuring out which laws can be required of the Gentiles. And, of course, we are all familiar with the book of James and his pushback against where this gospel openness could lead. While I see absolutely no contradictions in their teachings, I can certainly feel the presence of James and his desire to make sure the church stays the course throughout the New Testament. It will be “men from James” who are sent to check in on the church. And it will be “false brothers” from Judea (the church in the south) who find it impossible to accept this gospel Paul is preaching.

** NOTE: Some will find it hard to accept that James “the brother of Jesus,” who writes the letter of James, is the same character who is a member of the three disciples who followed Jesus. While many assume the disciples James and John of “the three” are brothers, the sons of Zebedee, this is highly unlikely. It is far more likely that Jesus called Peter, James son of Alphaeus (who would be Jesus’s cousin; his “brother” in the original culture), and John son of Zebedee to be a part of the three. Rabbinically, you would expect nothing else in the leadership of the church other than the three disciples who walked closest to Jesus. The Peter, James, and John who followed Jesus have to be the Peter, James, and John who lead the church. While this is debated rigorously, I believe it is the only position that holds to the inspiration of the Text and an honest rendering of church history.

I find this study fascinating in that it illuminates the very human struggle in the midst of this new movement, the hard process of binding and loosing, and the commitment to value the voice and authority of the community as a voice God uses to guide and direct the steps of the individual. Whether it is James who is having to come to grips with the voice of the Jerusalem Council and trying to lead an entire church of Judeans who disagree with the stance, or Paul who would consider his entire ministry a vain, empty race unless he receives the right hand of fellowship, their commitment to each other should stand as an example to all of us.

GALATIANS: Paul's Gospel

Since we have looked at the context of the situation, which helps us understand the temptation for these Galatians to “turn to a different gospel,” we are now prepared to hear Paul shift his concern to explaining his gospel, where he got his gospel, and whether his gospel has the blessing of the apostles.

I say “his gospel” and not “the gospel,” because that is how Paul will talk about his mission and calling to the world of the Gentiles. In the evangelical world, we have come to know and speak of “the gospel” as a package of theological truths expressed in a particular way that articulates the salvation of mankind. We have previously discussed that the biblical world understood “gospel” to be the announcement of a new kingdom on the scene. While the abstract truth of the gospel might be something to articulate comprehensively, there would also be a lot of expressions of this abstract truth. “Gospel” would refer to any announcement of that kingdom and all of its implications. Paul’s case is that God has given him a unique announcement for a unique part of the world — a unique gospel. This gospel is going to need to be accepted by the apostles and the church at large in order for it to have any authority.

So Paul is going to build a case for the source, founding, and authority of his gospel. He is going to tell the story of how he received it, how he checked it, and how the leadership of the early church agreed that Paul’s gospel is in complete agreement with their understanding of what God is doing in His Kingdom through Jesus.

The first thing Paul wants to do is make clear that the gospel he preaches is not a gospel from a human source.

I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that the gospel I preached is not of human origin. I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it; rather, I received it by revelation from Jesus Christ.

And this is very important and somewhat surprising, because as a Jew, Paul has one of the most impressive pedigrees around. As a student of Gamaliel, one of the most heralded sages of the first century, Paul has the most significant source of authority by who his rabbi was. Paul’s very presence in a room makes him one of the most sought out voices. However, this new gospel was not Gamaliel’s; no, Paul has left his former rabbi and has begun following a new one. This means he will need to undergo some serious training in order to be a teacher under a new yoke. Hear how he explains it:

For you have heard of my previous way of life in Judaism, how intensely I persecuted the church of God and tried to destroy it. I was advancing in Judaism beyond many of my own age among my people and was extremely zealous for the traditions of my fathers. But when God, who set me apart from my mother’s womb and called me by his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son in me so that I might preach him among the Gentiles, my immediate response was not to consult any human being. I did not go up to Jerusalem to see those who were apostles before I was, but I went into Arabia. Later I returned to Damascus.

Paul’s point is this: When I had my life-changing experience with God, I did NOT meet with anybody; I went off and was “trained” by Jesus himself in Arabia and Damascus. And not only does Paul have to learn a new yoke from a new rabbi, but it will be three years before he consults any follower of Jesus.

Then after three years, I went up to Jerusalem to get acquainted with Cephas and stayed with him fifteen days. I saw none of the other apostles—only James, the Lord’s brother. I assure you before God that what I am writing you is no lie.

Then I went to Syria and Cilicia. I was personally unknown to the churches of Judea that are in Christ. They only heard the report: “The man who formerly persecuted us is now preaching the faith he once tried to destroy.” And they praised God because of me.

After three years, Paul finally meets Peter (known as “Cephas” in the Greek) and James, who is the leader of the church in Jerusalem. You may remember the book of Acts and how the church, centered in Jerusalem, is having to wrestle with this new understanding of Peter’s experience and the acceptance of the Gentiles. It is Peter and James who are the leaders of this early church movement (and John, but more on this later). After three years of training, Paul goes to meet with the leadership of this church led by guys who followed Jesus around in the flesh — actual talmidim of Jesus himself. During this time, Paul is relatively unknown by the church, with the exception of a few rumors of his changed life.

The implication (especially when you see this in conjunction with the record of Acts) is that Paul takes his gospel and checks it with the church leadership. When they “praised God because of me [Paul],” the assumption is they heard his gospel and his story and were fine with his ministry.

But what will be the result of Paul’s continued ministry? Does this testimony and the Jerusalem council make everything smooth over that easily?

Jerusalem to Antioch

Of course, if Peter isn’t prepared for this world-altering shift in understanding, the rest of this Jewish movement isn’t ready for it either. Peter’s interactions and behavior with a Gentile, the rumors of his inclusion of such an outsider without first making him a covenantal part of the story, has set off the Church at large.

Peter has to defend his actions and very clearly tell the story. It’s clear that the discussions are not easy, and on some level it’s comforting to know that even the early church had problems. They had problems with doctrines and traditions, they had problems communicating with each other, and they had problems finding a place of agreement. Fortunately, the early church does model for us how to navigate these difficulties and find a place of resolution (more on that later in Acts), but they are certainly as human as we are.

After people tell the story of both his vision and his experience, coupled with his ability to speak as the ringleader of Jesus’s disciples and the movement as a whole, the people there accept the testimony of Peter and have enough humility to be able to rejoice in this plan of God that they previously misunderstood.

Depending on how you read the second half of Acts 11, you may get a more realistic picture. We are told the Church begins to move and scatter from the region of Judea and Samaria and reach into the world of Asia and Asia Minor (modern-day Turkey). The disciples send some leaders north to Antioch in order to provide leadership to this spreading movement as it finds a home in a very Greco-Roman — and largely Gentile — world.

It does become clear that the Church finds a new “center for operations” in Antioch. What is unclear is whether or not there is a tension between the church in the Diaspora and the church in Judea, and how deep that tension runs. I find in most of the conversations we have for basic Bible study, we aren’t even aware of the tensions between New Testament worldviews, but the issue is profoundly significant. Most New Testament scholars are going to identify a deep rift in worldviews between the Jewish church in Jerusalem (the “Judeans”) and the expanding church of Asia and Asia Minor.

Some liberal scholars will even go are far as to say there is a major schism that is never repaired. According to these scholars, the “Jewish Church” of Judea, led by James, does not survive and falls out of existence; the church that remains is the Gentile church that will be largely Roman in nature, shedding it’s Judaism and the Law and moving into a new day and the Christian faith we know so well. But I believe this ignores the biblical Text, and modern scholarship is telling us quite clearly that the church of Asia and Asia Minor was much more Jewish than we anticipated.

However, an attempt to act like there is no tension between the church in Jerusalem and the church in Antioch would be just as ignorant. There are details living within the New Testament writings (which we will certainly look at) that clearly show how these pesky Gentiles make this Jewish-Jesus faith quite difficult, and not everybody agrees on how to deal with it. To understand this context is to understand not just a piece of the New Testament, but the New Testament conversation as a whole. But more on that later…

Peter’s experience with Cornelius is really rocking the boat, and the waters aren’t going to calm down anytime soon.

Unknown by Peter at this point is that God is preparing a special prophet for this new frontier. While people are aware of Saul’s life-changing experience, we will see later (from the book of Galatians) that Saul has been spending significant time working through his own version of “the Gospel.” God is training him and teaching him how to take this announcement of a new Kingdom into a world radically different from the Jewish world of Judea.

When the church moves to Antioch, they send Barnabas to help lead the efforts. Barnabas encourages the believers and helps lay some foundations, but then immediately sets off to find Saul, whom he brings to operational headquarters. The church sends out Barnabas and Saul on their first “mission” to check on the growing movement, spread the gospel, and start planting some healthy faith communities throughout the region.

They set sail for Asia and arrive at their first stop, only to have their plans changed…

Unclean Sheets

In my opinion, the next story in the book of Acts is one of the most misunderstood, misapplied, and critical stories of the book. In order to set up the context for the story, we may find it helpful to remind ourselves of the Jewish nature of the story. I find that far too many Christian readers will see what they call the “Old Testament” as a Jewish story and the “New Testament” as a story predominantly of Gentiles. While we’ve worked very hard to preserve the Jewishness of Jesus in our walk through the gospel accounts, it is even more difficult for us to maintain a Jewish perspective through the record of Acts. I mean, the whole book is a record of the Gentile church, right?

Not exactly.

It would serve us well to stop and realize or remind ourselves that up to this point, the entire story has been Jewish. While there has been plenty of Gentile interaction in the New Testament (this isn’t unique to the New Testament; Gentiles are all over the Tanakh as well), this interaction has always fit within a Jewish worldview and a Jewish context. The story of the Ascension is a story of a Jewish rabbi and his talmidim; the story of Pentecost is a Jewish story of Shavuot (yes, when you stop to consider it, Pentecost was a story about Jews, not Gentiles). The stories about the believers sharing their possessions, breaking bread, and praying together are stories about Jewish believers. The problem with the widows, the stoning of Stephen, and the life-change of Saul is all Jewish.

The story of Cornelius presents the first encounter with a Gentile not being assumed as a Jewish convert, and a Jewish apostle confronted in his worldview about how to interact with a fellowship of the goyim (the Hebrew word for “Gentiles”).

The story begins with a man named Cornelius who lives in Caesarea — which happens to be a VERY Roman city that doesn’t share the values of the Jewish world of Judea and Samaria — and has a love for the God of Israel and a heart of righteousness that gives to the marginalized and shows hospitality. After an incredible God-encounter, he sends for Peter, who happens to be down the road at Joppa.

As the messengers head out for Joppa, we are told about Peter, who is having an encounter of his own. He goes up to the roof of the home to catch a nap and has a vision of a sheet coming down with all kinds of animals. The passage specifically mentions that there are unclean animals included (reptiles and four-footed animals of “all kinds”). A voice speaks to Peter and directs him to kill and eat. Peter objects on the grounds that eating unclean animals is against the Law and he has never done this in all his life. The voice tells Peter not to call unclean what God has made clean.

It’s at this point where biblical interpretation starts to go off the rails for many of us. I have heard numerous times that this is where God decides all food is now clean, and kosher law doesn’t exist anymore. But such an interpretation completely ignores the details of the passage and demonstrates horrific Biblical exegesis.

First, God has not made unclean animals clean; God has very clearly called them unclean. This is why Peter is so confused by the vision. Three times the vision repeats itself and each time Peter insists on being obedient. The reasoning for Peter is clear: “I will not eat something unclean.” The voice says not to call unclean what is clean. Peter’s logic says, “That’s just fine, but that lizard IS unclean and I’m not to eat it.”

Second, we cannot forget the context of the vision. Peter is being prepared by God for a world-shaking encounter with Cornelius; Peter’s world is about to be blown up. To understand the cultural context, we have to understand what was called Jewish halakhah, or the oral traditions and teachings about how to walk out God’s commands. When God gave you Torah, He gave you 613 commands to follow; the problem has always been trying to figure out HOW to follow those 613 commands correctly. In order to help in this process, the Jewish world was working on a canonized oral tradition. This oral tradition stated that since you were trying to avoid contact with unclean things, a Jew should not eat with a Gentile. They are unfamiliar with kosher law and do things all the time that make themselves unclean.

What was often overlooked is the difference between God’s written law and the oral law (halakhah or traditions). To this day, the Jewish faith will see the oral law with similar authority (in fact, in some ultra-Orthodox circles, with MORE authority) as the written law. The Talmud teaches that when Moses came down the mountain with the written law, he also came down the mountain with the oral law. Whether they believe this to be literally true or not is beside the point; the application is that you cannot have written law without oral law.

I think this observation is true on principle and often poorly applied. As we’ve tried to show through the life of Jesus, he often questioned the oral traditions and critiqued them, while always upholding Torah to the letter. Peter finds himself in a world that has declared kosher law, by extension, means the Gentiles are unclean. You can search your Torah as long as you like — God never said such a thing. Nevertheless, at the point of the vision, Peter is very confused, but his encounter with Cornelius is going to fill in the blanks.

People often act like interpreting this passage is an arbitrary and ambiguous thing, but Peter interprets the vision for us! He tells the people in Acts 10 that they are well aware of the Jewish traditions, but he has recently been shown that PEOPLE are not unclean. To be clear, the vision of Peter has nothing to do with food; the vision is about people. The food issue for Peter is quite black and white; certain foods are clean, certain foods are unclean. But God is telling Peter that people are not unclean and he needs to see them as such.

Now, I know some astute readers are thinking, “Hey! Wait a minute! Are you telling me I should be eating kosher?” Wait on that specific answer, but the question itself is brilliant, because that question is what so much of the New Testament is about.

Certainly, the world of the apostles began to shake that day, as God starts to chip away at their assumptions and blow apart old wineskins so He could restore a world He has always been trying to reach. He had told Abraham at the beginning of the story He was looking for a partner to bless all nations. The story of the conquest put His people at the crossroads of the earth so they could bring shalom to chaos in the midst of the nations. The prophets spoke again and again of God’s people being a light to the nations and a hope for the goyim.

Sometimes, our oral traditions and our interpretations get in the way of what God is trying to do. When He blows apart our parameters and our insulators, our whole world begins to shake. But a shaking world of religious uncertainty is often the beginning of a revolution of redemption and the liberation of captives.

Really?!

Acts 5 brings us to one of the most disturbing stories in the account of Acts. It’s the story of Ananias and Sapphira and what appears to be a moment where God breaks out of character and loses His mind. I’ll admit that this story is disturbing to me, as well, and I feel as though it should be. (I would direct you back to some of the tension I felt in the story of the conquest; much of it is true here, too.)

And again, there are a few things that make me pause to be sure I’m stripping my assumptions out of my approach to the story. What does the Text say and what does it NOT say? For example, God’s voice is strangely silent in this story, while Peter does an awful lot of talking. While I’m not necessarily suggesting Peter is out of line or out of God’s will in his actions, it does seem strangely reminiscent of the story of Elijah and the chutzpah he demonstrates in his declaration that it won’t rain.

But such a suggestion may be a stretch, so let’s assume God is in fact behind the words of Peter’s condemnation. It would be wise of us to notice this isn’t the first time we’ve seen an action like this in the narrative of God.

Of course, it would also be wise to notice these stories are so out of character for God that it causes us to ask serious questions. This is not the default posture of God toward His people. When stories like these show up, they remind us it is by far the exception and not the rule. They also remind us God is not a character interested in fitting into any of our tight and tidy boxes we’ve created for Him.

I can count the stories that come to mind on one hand. I think of names like Nadab, Abihu, and Uzzah as examples. Let’s deal with a few of these. If this is not the default posture of God and such an exception to the rule, then why the exception? Hearing stories like these causes the reader to throw up their hands and cry, “Really?! Doesn’t that seem like a bit much?”

One of the first stories like this we run into is an odd story in the book of Leviticus (chapter 10) where two of Aaron’s sons try to offer “common” fire before the LORD. (This is the correct Hebrew translation; many translations of the Text will use “profane” here, and then translate the same Hebrew word as “common” only a few verses later.) Apparently the issue is Nadab and Abihu were not doing the work of discerning the “common” from the “holy” — the secular from the sacred. This is one of the first lessons God is trying to teach His brand new priests. Nadab and Abihu fail to take things seriously and God responds by setting a standard.

The entire mission of God will depend on His priests being able to teach the larger “kingdom of priests” (Israel) how to discern light from darkness in the world around them. If they fail to learn this lesson — if the story of God is corrupted before it even gets off the ground…

And that seems to be the crux of these stories. God’s reactions, which seem so out of character, come because these are critical moments in the history of His people. If the mission is lost before the first step is even taken, the result will not be the redemption of the world and restoration of mishpat, but continued disorder and chaos.

The next story is found in Numbers 15. After the story of the Golden Calf, the giving of the Law at Sinai, and the construction of the Tabernacle (which was a mobile reminder of the creation/Sabbath story), one of the first stories we are told is of a nameless character who refuses to observe the Sabbath. The community brings in the offender, not knowing how to handle the offense, and God hands down a judgment of capital punishment. Again, at a critical juncture for His people, God is serious about this Sabbath business. He’s setting a standard of holiness.

Again, later in the story, after the conquest of the city of Jericho, Achan and his family are stoned to death after refusing to follow the instructions of total dedication to the LORD. And again, the story comes at the beginning of a critical chapter in the history of God’s people.

In the book of Acts, I see the story of Ananias and Sapphira mirroring those stories in big ways.

As in the story of Nadab and Abihu, God just built a new Temple (the people of God).

As in the story of the Sabbath-breaker of Numbers 15, God just put the law in the hearts of His people in a Pentecost story that retold the story of Sinai.

As in the story of Achan, God is leading His people into a completely new kind of conquest.

And in come priests who don’t want to take it seriously. Here come people who aren’t going to tell the truth about the promises of God. They say they want to give it all to God, but they hide some of what’s rightfully His under their tents.

I guess I’m not really sure how to end this post. I have no eloquent line to make this all seem poetic.

But I do think we dabble in the mission of God. I think the curse of our brand of American Christianity is that we like to say one thing, while we do another. And I’m glad that in my life, I haven’t experienced the exception of the rule, because I certainly know I’m guilty of these offenses myself.

I want to realize God takes His mission to put the world back together very seriously. May God have the mercy to continue to teach us where we need to grow up and burn away the garbage in our hearts. May we be coachable students who have wide eyes, sitting on the edge of our chairs with attentive humility, ready to learn with a reverent awe for the work of God.

Far too often, I’ve been the slouching student in the back of the room staring at the clock.

HOLY WEEK: Peter's Denial

We left the last post hanging on the question of whether or not Judas was the only betrayer. I ask that question because I think the story demands we see the tension of another betrayer.

After running from the Sanhedrin’s arrest on the Mount of Olives, John uses his connections with someone, presumably a servant in the High Priest’s household, to get them onto the private grounds of Jesus’s trial. As we’ve mentioned before, it should be noted that Jesus is not standing a public trial in front of the formal Sanhedrin, but is instead being tried informally (and unjustly) by the mafia-style Sanhedrin, meeting at the High Priest’s house. This is clear from the Text.

We are told that Peter is in the courtyard, hanging out with those who are warming themselves by the fire while all the commotion is happening. It’s impressive to consider that John and Peter sneak onto the grounds of this house once we realize they are standing in the home of the “godfather” figure of the corrupt priesthood. As Peter tries to keep a low profile (we have no idea what happens to John), Jesus is persecuted and tried throughout the evening.

As Peter is standing near the fire, he is confronted more than once about his identity; according to one gospel account, he even tries to leave the group and relocate and is still confronted about who he is. Eventually, exactly as Jesus predicted, Peter denies his association with the rabbi on trial inside, and we are told he meets the gaze of Jesus himself as the rooster crows. In an eerie moment of the story, Peter rushes out of the courtyard to his home and proceeds to weep bitterly for what he has done.

Not many of us catch the gravity of what Peter has just done. For a talmid to publicly disassociate with the rabbi is unheard of in rabbinical discipleship — the truest form of a slap to his teacher’s face. In fact, on a lot of levels, if you read this story in context, it is tempting to think Peter’s denial is a much deeper betrayal than that of Judas. Judas made his error while being misguided in his understanding of Jesus’s mission, while Peter refuses to associate with the man at all.

One can see the significance of this moment by watching Jesus’s interaction with Peter in the gospel of John. After the crucifixion, Peter and some of the disciples have gone home and started working. Peter understands that his time as a disciple is done; he has forsaken the rabbi, and this is a cardinal offense.

This is also how the others would have seen it. It is interesting to realize that without the account of John’s gospel, we would know very little about the life of Peter (outside of the book of Acts). All three synoptic gospels allow Peter to be characterized by his worst moment, without ever mentioning his name again. It is only Peter’s best friend, John, who gives us insight into the personal and intimate reinstatement of Peter as a disciple — and as the ring-leader of the the havurah.

Consider this passage from the ending of the gospel of Mark:

But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’ ”

Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.

Go tell the disciples… and Peter.

If the angel doesn’t specify Peter, the women will leave him out, because Peter isn’t a disciple anymore.

Peter has blown it. He made the ultimate mistake.

You don’t come back from denying your rabbi.

And yet, the authors of the gospels are adamant throughout that Peter is not the betrayer — Judas is. I think one of the reasons the gospel writers keep pointing this out is because a typical first-century reader (especially a Jewish reader) is not going to identify Judas as the betrayer, but Peter.

So what is it about Peter and Judas that makes Judas “the one who betrayed Jesus”?

I would suggest it is the way their story ends. They both make huge mistakes. One of them misjudges who their teacher is and what he’s up to in the world. The other disassociates and denies even the slightest connection to their rabbi. Both are wrong. 

But one chooses to let his story end there. And one chooses to let himself be reinstated.

I have NO desire for this to become a teaching about suicide. I am trying to speak to the larger, poetic nuances of the story itself. I am trying to speak to the meta-narrative arc of your story and mine — how it fits within God’s bigger story. I have far too many close friends who struggle with clinical depression and battle against suicide. Throwing rocks at those who struggle with such things would be a betrayal of the very story we are reading. And projecting anything other than that onto my words would be inaccurate. I am not making grandiose statements about the choice of suicide or their eternal destination. Not even in the slightest.

But this is a story about hope.

The only true betrayal of Jesus and what he stood for would be to believe there is no tomorrow — to believe there is no coming back from this.

Judas decides his mistakes cannot be overcome. Judas decides his story will end here. Judas decides there is no coming back.

Judas, the one who betrayed Jesus.

But Jesus’s entire ministry has been and always will be about the God of Second Chances. And the God of Third Chances. And the God of Endless Grace and Bottomless Hope.

Peter is willing to walk on a beach with Jesus and face his greatest fears. Peter is willing to stare down his greatest insecurities. Peter is willing to trust that when his rabbi says he’s still worth saving and still fit to feed his sheep — he means it.

And Peter is willing to trust Jesus to give him a new tomorrow.

This story has always been a story about new tomorrows. This story has always been about allowing God to write incredible endings. This story has always been an invitation to trust that God says you have value and acceptance and worth.

This story has always been a reminder that you aren’t defined by your biggest mistakes, your deepest insecurities, or your worst fears.

Your rabbi says that a new tomorrow is accessible for you today. Will you trust him?

She Giggled (part two)

Continued from the last post...

O YOU OF LITTLE FAITH

There is a story in the gospels we all know quite well. It’s the story of Peter walking on the water. It’s an amazing story that fascinates us to no end. Our western minds are blown away as we consider the possibility of a man pursuing Jesus out onto the waves of the Sea of Galilee, performing such a miraculous feat to mirror that of his rabbi. It’s almost too much for us to believe. And then, just as we’re beginning to become skeptical, Peter meets all of the worldly expectations and succumbs to the failure we’ve all been wishing he would defeat as our representative. He wavers, he fails, and he sinks.

I’ve seen the look in too many people’s eyes as they read that story. It’s this look of hopeful disbelief, followed by a “that’s what I thought would happen” expression on their face (even if they’ve read the story a thousand times, I will see this expression or hear this tone). We then listen as Jesus scolds Peter’s faith — while we all readily put ourselves into Peter’s shoes and share his scolding — and we nod.

But there is so much more taking place in this story. Much has been taught about this story already, so I don’t want to be accused of plagiarizing anything. Ray Vander Laan had an excellent treatment of this subject in That the World May Know, a series put out by Focus on the Family (DVD 6, “In the Dust of the Rabbi,” Zondervan). Rob Bell treated the subject very well in Velvet Elvis (Zondervan, 2005). And another great and concise source of reference for this story can be found in the NOOMA video entitled Dust (flannel.org), among many others. I could not recommend these resources enough (or any others from these teachers, for that matter).

The first-century concept of discipleship was such that the most “successful” thing you could do in the Jewish culture, the thing they valued the most, was the study of Torah. One of the pinnacle experiences of the Jewish school system was being given the opportunity to become a talmid — or as we say it, a disciple.

If you thought you had what it takes as a student of the Torah, you would apply for discipleship under a rabbi. One of the greatest honors a boy could receive would be the acceptance of a rabbi to be his talmid. If a rabbi chose you as a disciple, he was in essence saying to you, “I believe you have what it takes to become just like me.” It was a great honor. So, the path of a disciple was a path of memorizing the rabbi’s teachings, taking on the rabbi’s set of interpretations, and — most importantly — becoming just like the rabbi.

This meant you spent all day, every day, trying to mimic the thoughts, actions, and teachings of your teacher. Some Jewish scholars say they have seen a rabbi proceed into a restroom and in his wake are ten or twelve young disciples.

You want to be just like your rabbi.

If your rabbi does it — you do it.

And you know that you can do it — because if you could not have done it, the rabbi would never have called you. The rabbi’s call is his affirmation in your ability and potential.

Peter finds himself in a boat that night with the other disciples and they end up encountering Jesus, who happens to be walking on the water. If Jesus is walking on the water, what does Peter want to do? He wants to be just like his rabbi.

“Lord, if it’s really you, call me out to you on the water.”

“Come.”

And Peter does. He walks on the water. It’s an incredible story. Peter is a true disciple.

And then Peter sinks. But why does Peter sink? The answer for many of us is that Peter loses faith; he sees the wind and the waves and he loses faith. This is correct, but as Bell asks: whom does he lose faith in? Jesus?

Jesus is not sinking. Jesus is doing just fine.

Does Peter lose faith in Jesus’s ability to help him walk on water?

Or, does Peter lose faith in himself?

Jesus rescues Peter, pulls him into the boat, and then asks, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” Is this actually a rabbinical scolding of Peter’s failure to accomplish his task? Or is this question of Jesus actually driving at his belief in Peter?

“Peter, if you didn’t have what it takes to walk on water, I never would have called you out. You had everything you needed to do this! I believe in you, Peter! You can do whatever I call you to do. I will never ask you to do something you cannot do.”

Listen to what Bell says in Velvet Elvis:

So at the end of his time with his disciples, Jesus has some final words for them. He tells them to go to the ends of the earth and make more disciples. And then he leaves. He promises to send his Spirit to guide them and give them power, but Jesus himself leaves the future of the movement in their hands. And he doesn’t stick around to make sure they don’t screw it up. He’s gone. He trusts that they can actually do it. 

God has an incredibly high view of people. God believes that people are capable of amazing things.

I have been told that I need to believe in Jesus. Which is a good thing. But what I am learning is that Jesus believes in me.

I have been told that I need to have faith in God. Which is a good thing. But what I am learning is that God has faith in me. 

The rabbi thinks we can be like him.

TO HAVE THE ABILITY TO GIGGLE

I often watch my children and wonder when it was that I lost faith in myself.

Now, I’m not talking about a narcissistic faith that seems to elevate my standing in God’s created order and lacks humility. I’m certainly not trying to promote some humanistic worldview that seems to assert that the answer to our ills somehow lies within us. I truly and earnestly believe the hope for all of this world’s brokenness lies in the power of the resurrected Christ and the reality of Jesus.

But I’m talking about the faith in myself that recognizes I’m made in the image of God — the kind of faith that might actually be willing to believe there must be something worth loving and worth saving if God was willing to save it through the story of the cross.

I wonder, as I watch my children, how it was that my innocence was somehow connected with my confidence. (Boy, there’s another chapter or two waiting to be written, eh?)

Jesus tells me that if I were to watch children for a little while, it would probably do me some good — that if I cannot change and become like little children, the Kingdom will be out of my reach.

One of the things that I’m noticing about children is they have incredible faith in themselves. They know Dad is there and they know Mom is there and they know they are loved and they just want to play and smile and laugh and tumble.

It seems like later on in life, we begin to question all of those things.

Is Dad really there for me? Am I really worth loving? Can I really do this?

And we try to do the things we know in our hearts we were created to do. We step out of the boat and we begin to walk, but we know the wind and the waves are out there somewhere, just waiting to sabotage our one fleeting moment of weak courage. We try and we sink.

And we’re not surprised, really, are we?

We knew it would happen just like this. There’s no way we could ever walk on water. So we grab for our life preserver and we climb back into the boat and we hold our gaze on the floor and we take the scolding we knew we had coming. O me of little faith. O me the big doubter. It’s just another failed attempt to live out what God intends for my life. When will I ever learn? I should just get used to this and stay in the boat next time; it will save me the humiliation and the pain and the failure. It’s much safer and nicer here in the boat.

Yeah. Next time, I won’t be so silly.

I picture Jesus grabbing me by the chin and jerking my head up, waiting for my gaze to meet his. And with a divine sparkle in his eye, he looks into my soul — the soul he knows intimately because he personally knit it together — and says, “You can do this.”

I go back in my mind and remember my daughter on that slope.

Twenty times. Thirty times.

Ten minutes later, we have finally traversed the twelve feet that leads to the top of the slope. And she laughs and she giggles and she prances and waddles along the now-level ground and she is thrilled to be at the top and to run and play with ease.

Of course, she was happy to be at the bottom of the slope, too.

I’ve come to a new realization: I want to learn how to giggle.

Now, I would never suggest we trivialize sin for even a moment. I’m not saying that failure is somehow okay and God doesn’t care about our success. I am not one of the Jesus followers who seems to whip God’s grace around like it’s a “Get Out of Jail Free” card from the Monopoly game of real life. In fact, I’ve noticed it’s the very fact that I take my sin so seriously that I end up being incapacitated.

But there’s something here I’m supposed to learn about my daughter.

There’s something about that slope in the park that’s bringing me closer to the Kingdom of Heaven.

I’m tired of being immobilized by my failures. I’m tired of being the guy who knows there’s no way he can pull this off. I’m tired of having a laundry list of excuses. I’m tired of letting this stinking slope get the better of me. I’m tired of wondering whether or not my Father is there for me. I’m tired of trying to decide if I’m really worth being loved. I’m tired of worrying about what the world wants from me and expects from me and thinks of me and says about me.

And I can’t just snap my fingers and make the slope go away. My problems and my hiccups and my sins are things I’m going to have to deal with. I’m going to have to get over the problems that seem to keep me down. The Spirit of God is trying to complete the work within me that He started a long time ago. I have some falling to do, and I have plenty of getting up to do. And I have a salvation that needs to be “worked out with fear and trembling” and it’s going to take some effort.

But I wonder if God would rather sit in a boat and say, “You of little faith…”

Or if He’d rather sit on a park bench and watch His children learn how to walk. I wonder if He could actually sit back and enjoy Himself if we could learn how to fall and get up and fall and get up and keep believing and keep getting back up and keep refusing to give up because we’re going to make it up this slope and we’re just so glad to be with Dad and to be loved and to know that we’re okay.

I know that I love to watch my daughter learn new things and not be stopped by her failures.

I love to watch her giggle.

I want to learn how to giggle.